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reidmarieprentiss · 3 months ago

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Wasteland, Baby!

Summary: We learn a little about reader's past, Spencer tries (and succeeds) to get back in her good graces. Happy ending!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, fluff

Warnings/Includes: bad past relationships, past cheating, pregnancy (not reader), getting broken up with, divorced parents, past hooking up with strangers, alcohol consumption, mentions of being drunk, mild depression, time jumps, penelope garcia being the best person alive, derek morgan saving the day

Word count: 10.3k

a/n: final installment of Too Sweet!! i know they're a mess but i love these twooo might give them some blurbs in the future <33 thank you so much to everyone reading! your comments and interactions seriously motivate me to write sooo much faster and make my heart burst!!

main masterlist

part one part two

Flashback…

You sat there, the rim of your glass resting against your lips as you drained the last of your drink. The burn of the alcohol was distant, almost nonexistent—just like everything else these days. The numbness had long since taken over, seeping into every part of your life, leaving you cold and detached. You chased sensations, tried to force yourself to feel something, anything, but nothing worked. Not the new piercings that adorned your skin, not the tattoo etched into your flesh, not even the alcohol that should have brought warmth, or the rage rooms where you shattered objects in a futile attempt to break through the void.

Work had once been your refuge, a security blanket that made you feel capable and strong. Military intelligence had given you purpose, a clear path forward. But now even that had become a nightmare, as Jackson had managed to ruin yet another thing you loved. The betrayal cut deep, but even that pain had dulled, leaving only a hollow ache in its place.

“Y/N… you should go home,” the bartender, Drew, said with a shake of their head. They had seen you here night after night, watching as you spiraled deeper into whatever darkness had taken hold of you.

“I don’t have a home anymore,” you slurred, the words bitter on your tongue. The thought of the apartment you had shared with Jackson twisted like a knife in your gut. He was there right now, with his fiance—your replacement. All your things were still there while you slept in a cheap motel that barely felt real. He got the apartment, the girl, the job, and all you got was a long bar tab.

Drew’s expression softened with pity, but before they could say anything, a deep, smooth voice cut through the haze.

“Hey, beautiful, you can come home with me,” the stranger called out, his tone dripping with confidence. His voice was like honey, dark and rich, promising the kind of escape you craved.

You looked up, eyes narrowing as you focused on him—tall, broad shoulders, a chiseled jawline, and eyes that gleamed with something dangerous, something alluring. He was exactly what you needed: a distraction, a thrill, something to make you forget for just a little while.

And thus began the one thing that finally brought feeling back into your world.

You pushed the glass aside and slid off the barstool, unsteady but determined. The stranger’s smirk grew as you approached him, his hand reaching out to guide you out of the bar. The warmth of his touch was electric, a spark in the darkness that reminded you that you were still alive, still capable of feeling—if only for tonight.

You didn’t know his name, and you didn’t care. All that mattered was the fire he ignited within you, the way his presence chased away the numbness that had plagued you for so long. It was reckless, it was dangerous, but it was exactly what you needed. The emptiness was too much to bear, and if he could fill it, even for just a moment, you were willing to take that chance.

As you left the bar, wrapped in the stranger’s arm, the world blurred around you. For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t consumed by the void. The thrill, the anticipation—it was enough to make you feel alive again, even if it was fleeting.

—

Present

The team was gathered around the round table, JJ had just finished briefing everyone, her voice steady as she laid out the grim details. As the discussion continued, Emily’s brow furrowed as she reviewed the case file in front of her, something sparking a memory.

“This reminds me of the Atlanta case… Hotch, do you know what department Y/N is in? I want to ask her a question about that case file,” Emily said, her eyes still scanning the paperwork.

Hotch’s expression remained neutral as he answered. “She’s not here right now. You can get the file from the archives if you need.”

Penelope immediately picked up on the shift in tone. Her concern was evident as she asked, “Where is she?”

Hotch didn’t hesitate, his response professional and matter-of-fact. “I wasn’t made aware of the specifics. She’s on a leave of absence.”

Emily looked up, her curiosity piqued. “Do you know how long she’ll be gone?”

Hotch’s gaze was steady as he replied, “I do not. Why don’t you call her if you’re concerned? But let’s stay focused. This isn’t pertinent to the case at hand.”

The room fell into a brief, awkward silence, the unspoken questions lingering in the air. The team exchanged glances, sensing that there was more to the story, but knowing better than to press further. Hotch’s tone made it clear that they needed to get back to the task at hand, and so they did, though the concern for your absence lingered in the back of their minds.

—

“Spencer,” Penelope’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the break room, startling him.

“Ah! You scared me, Garcia,” Spencer exclaimed, nearly dropping his mug.

She didn’t smile or laugh at his reaction, her expression unusually serious as she approached him. “How did it feel?” she asked pointedly, her voice carrying a sharp edge.

Spencer blinked, confused. “What?”

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” she taunted, using the same words he had cruelly thrown at you.

Realization dawned on Spencer, and a wave of anxiety washed over him. “Penelope, what are you talking about?” he stammered, already dreading where this conversation was headed.

Penelope’s eyes narrowed, her tone full of disappointment. “I heard you, Spencer. I held Y/N as she cried. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but that was a nasty scene. And I am seriously disappointed in you.”

Spencer winced, guilt twisting his insides. “I know… I messed up.”

“No kidding,” Penelope shot back, crossing her arms. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The truth was, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. He had been so caught up in his own anger and hurt that he hadn’t considered the consequences of his actions.

“Well, you’d better figure it out,” Penelope said firmly. “Because this isn’t like you, Spencer. You’re better than this, and she deserves better than what you did.”

Spencer nodded, feeling the weight of her words. He knew she was right, and the guilt gnawed at him, but he was at a loss for how to make things right. As Penelope turned to leave, he was left standing there, staring into his now-cold cup of coffee, wondering how he could possibly begin to fix the mess he had made.

—

Flashback…

“Hey, hey, are you alright?” an unfamiliar voice asked, cutting through the quiet of your tearful moment.

You sniffled, wiping your nose before looking up to see a stranger standing in front of you. “Yeah, thanks,” you mumbled, trying to pull yourself together.

“I’m Jackson,” the man introduced himself with a soft smile, gesturing toward the bench you were sitting on. “Can I sit?”

You hesitated for a moment, but then shrugged, scooting over slightly. “I guess.”

Jackson took a seat beside you, giving you space but not too much. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked gently.

You eyed him suspiciously, your guard still up. “Is this a thing for you? Talking to crying girls on benches?”

He looked genuinely taken aback, holding up his hands defensively. “What? No, of course not. You just… you’re so pretty, too pretty to cry.”

You shot him a skeptical look, raising an eyebrow. He laughed, the sound warm and easy. “That was really bad, huh?”

“Yeah, it was really bad.” You deadpanned, expression unchanging.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it worse.” Jackson cringed, his face morphing into one of mild embarrassment and regret.

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but giggle a little. “No, no. It’s… it’s fine.” You heaved a big sigh, the weight of your emotions still heavy on your chest. “My, um, my partner… they just dumped me.”

Jackson’s expression softened with sympathy. “Oh, I’m so sorry. How long were you together?”

“Three years,” you replied, your voice shaky. “We started dating right out of high school.”

“Wow,” he said, clearly surprised. “And they just… ended it?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, the pain of the breakup still fresh.

Jackson hesitated for a moment before offering, “Do you need a hug?”

You narrowed your eyes playfully, trying to lighten the mood despite your sadness. “Depends… are you going to kill me?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Promise I won’t hurt you.”

You gave a small nod, and before you knew it, Jackson wrapped his arms around you in a comforting embrace. It was unexpected, but in that moment, it was exactly what you needed.

—

Present

“Hey, Hotch,” Spencer called out, picking up his pace to catch up to his unit chief as they walked through the hallway.

Hotch turned his head slightly, acknowledging Spencer as he fell in step beside him. “What’s up?”

“Do you happen to know when Agent Y/L/N will be back?” Spencer asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

Hotch glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “No, I don’t.”

“Alright, thanks,” Spencer replied, nodding as he looked down, feeling a bit deflated.

But Hotch wasn’t one to let things go so easily. “Why are you asking?” he inquired, his tone measured.

Spencer hesitated, searching for a reasonable explanation. “Just… have a question for her.”

Hotch gave him a considering look. “Get her number from Penelope. I’m sure she can answer any question you have that way.”

“Yeah…” Spencer trailed off, clearly not thrilled with the suggestion. He knew he could easily get your contact information, but after everything that had happened, the idea of reaching out to you directly felt daunting. Still, he gave Hotch a small nod of acknowledgment before the unit chief walked away, leaving Spencer to wrestle with the uncertainty gnawing at him.

—

Spencer knocked lightly on Penelope’s door frame, his nerves evident in the way he hesitated before speaking. “Garcia, can I come in?”

“I’m mad at you,” Penelope replied, not looking up from her computer, her tone sharp. “Enter at your own risk.”

Spencer nodded but stepped inside anyway, taking a cautious seat across from her desk. “Could you give me Y/N’s number?”

“Absolutely not,” Penelope said immediately, her voice firm. “You’ve done enough to that poor girl.”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably. “I thought you wanted me to fix things?”

“I do,” Penelope said, finally turning to face him. “But getting her number from someone else is tacky.”

“What should I do then?” Spencer asked, genuinely at a loss.

Penelope eyed him for a moment, considering. “I don’t know, Spencer. You could go to her apartment, make a grand gesture.”

“Okay… but why would I make a grand gesture? Can’t I just say sorry?”

Penelope sighed, her frustration clear. “Did you see the same woman I did? She was broken, Spencer. Whatever is going on between you two cannot be solved by a simple ‘sorry.’”

Spencer sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I tell you something in confidence, Garcia?”

Penelope narrowed her eyes but nodded. Despite her anger, she would never betray his trust. “I suppose.”

Spencer took a deep breath, the words coming out more slowly than he intended. “Y/N and I… well, we were intimate after the Doctor Who convention.”

“I knew it!” Penelope exclaimed, her eyes widening.

“What? How?” Spencer asked, startled.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, waving off his question. “Continue.”

“Alright… Well, it was an amazing night. The whole day, really. We got along so well. But then when I woke up, in her apartment, mind you, I was alone with just a note asking me to lock the door. And then she showed up here acting like she didn’t know who I was.”

Penelope’s expression softened slightly, her earlier anger giving way to understanding. “Spencer… that explains a lot.”

“I don’t know what I did wrong,” Spencer admitted, his voice quiet. “I don’t know why she left or why she’s been avoiding me. And then I just got so angry, and I took it out on her… I know I shouldn’t have, but I was hurt.”

Penelope leaned back in her chair, considering his words. “Spencer, it sounds like you both have a lot of unresolved feelings. But if you want to fix this, you need to do more than just apologize. You need to show her that you care, that you’re willing to put in the effort to make things right.”

Spencer nodded slowly, taking in her advice. “I just… I don’t know where to start.”

Penelope offered him a small, sympathetic smile. “Start by being honest with her. Tell her how you feel, what you’ve been going through. And if you really want to make it right, maybe that grand gesture isn’t such a bad idea after all.”

Spencer nodded again, this time with more determination. “Okay. I’ll figure something out.”

Penelope watched him leave, a hint of hope in her heart that maybe, just maybe, Spencer could make things right with you—if he was willing to put in the effort.

—

You were curled up on your couch, surrounded by a sea of crumpled tissues, the remnants of countless tearful nights. Your eyes were puffy and red, evidence of the endless crying sessions that had consumed your days since you took a leave of absence from work. In your hands, you held a photo album, the pages heavy with memories that now felt more like burdens than treasures.

The album had been a gift from Jackson’s mom for your fifth anniversary, a thoughtful compilation of your relationship’s most cherished moments. At the time, you had been so sure it was a precursor to something bigger, something life-changing. You had even found the ring hidden away in Jackson’s things, and your heart had soared with the hope that he was going to propose. But that hope had been cruelly dashed when you learned the truth—that ring wasn’t for you. It was for Jessica, the girl he’d been sleeping with on the side, the girl who had taken your place in his life.

The betrayal was like a knife in your chest, twisting deeper with every memory you revisited. Each photo, each smiling face, felt like a lie now. You had loved him, trusted him, and in return, he had shattered you. It wasn’t just the loss of Jackson that haunted you, though. There was Margo too, the one who had left you first, making you doubt your worth, your ability to be loved, leading you into the arms of Jackson. Literally. And then there was Spencer.

You had tried so hard to keep Spencer at arm’s length, to protect yourself from another heartbreak. But despite your best efforts, he had weaseled his way into your heart. You had let your guard down, just a little, and in return, he had crushed you, just like everyone else. At least Spencer had been quick about it, you thought bitterly. Over and done with in a single, devastating blow.

Your chief had been kind enough to grant you a leave of absence, requiring little explanation. You were a diligent worker, always going above and beyond, and in their words, you deserved a break. But this break had turned into something else—a time to mourn, to dissect everything that had gone wrong in your life. You replayed every failed relationship in your mind, trying to figure out where you had gone wrong, why you were always the one left behind.

But the answers didn’t come, only more tears and more heartache. The memories in the photo album blurred as your eyes filled with fresh tears. You had thought Jackson was the one, that you were finally going to have the life you’d always dreamed of. But now, that dream was gone, replaced by the harsh reality that you were alone, yet again.

And Spencer… you couldn’t deny the sting of that particular wound. You had pushed him away, trying to protect yourself, but in the end, it hadn’t mattered. He had hurt you anyway, and now you were left wondering if you would ever truly be able to trust someone again.

As you sat there on your couch, surrounded by the remnants of your broken heart, you couldn’t help but wonder if things would ever get better. Or if this was just the way it would always be—endlessly hoping, endlessly disappointed.

—

A knock on the door pulled you from the haze of your crying-induced slumber. You blinked, disoriented and groggy, not expecting anyone. At first, you tried to ignore it, assuming it was just a delivery person or maybe a neighbor. But the knocking persisted, growing more insistent. With a groan, you rolled off the couch, reluctantly dragging yourself to the door. You swung it open, puffy face and all, prepared to shoo away whoever was there.

Instead, you were met with the concerned face of Penelope Garcia. “Oh honey, come here,” she said, her voice soft and full of warmth as she immediately pulled you into a much-needed hug.

The floodgates opened again, and you found yourself crying into her shoulder, the weight of everything pouring out of you. Penelope held you tightly, rubbing your back and murmuring soothing words as you let it all out. Once you had cried yourself dry, she gently guided you back to the couch, making sure you were comfortable before she began tidying up the mess of tissues and empty mugs scattered around.

Penelope busied herself in the kitchen, making you a cup of tea, the comforting sounds of her movements a balm to your frayed nerves. When she returned, she handed you the warm mug and sat beside you, her hand resting on your knee in a gesture of quiet support.

“Pen… you really didn’t have to do all of this,” you said, your voice hoarse from all the crying.

“I know I don’t have to,” she replied, her tone firm but kind. “I want to.”

You managed a small, grateful smile. “Thank you. You’re a really good friend.”

Penelope smiled back, squeezing your knee. “I’m always here for you, sweetie. Do you want to tell me what’s got you in such a mess?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Me,” you said, the words tinged with self-deprecation. “I’m the problem.”

“I know that’s not true,” Penelope countered gently. She picked up the photo album from the coffee table, the one you had been staring at for hours. “Who is this?”

And so, for the next few hours, you told Penelope everything. You started from the beginning, recounting the pain of your parents’ divorce and how it had shaped your views on love and trust. You told her about your first relationship with Margo, how it had ended so abruptly and left you feeling lost. You explained how Jackson had swooped in that same day, picking up the pieces, only to shatter you even more five years later when he cheated on you and ruined the life you had built together.

You confessed how, after Jackson, you had spiraled, sleeping with random people just to feel something, anything. The emptiness had consumed you until you met Spencer, and for the first time in a long while, you had actually felt something real. But even that had ended in heartbreak, leaving you more confused and hurt than ever before.

Penelope listened intently, never interrupting, just letting you get it all out. When you finally finished, you felt drained but also a little lighter, as if sharing your burden had eased some of the weight on your shoulders.

Penelope looked at you with compassion in her eyes. “You’ve been through so much, Y/N. It’s no wonder you’re feeling like this. But you’re not alone, okay? You have people who care about you, who want to help you through this.”

You nodded, feeling the truth in her words. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could get better. And with Penelope by your side, you knew you didn’t have to face it all alone.

—

Spencer was struggling, caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions that he couldn’t quite reconcile. He knew what he had done wasn’t okay—it was uncalled for, cruel even. But despite that knowledge, there was a part of him that felt vindicated. After all, you had hurt him first. In his mind, that gave him a reason, however flimsy, to lash out.

He knew it was an extremely childish and lame excuse, but he was grasping for straws, trying to justify his actions to himself. The rational part of him recognized that his behavior had been immature and unprofessional, but the wounded part of him clung to the idea that you deserved it. You had made him feel abandoned and discarded, so why shouldn’t he make you feel the same?

But as much as he tried to convince himself that he was in the right, the guilt lingered. Spencer had always prided himself on being better than this—better than petty revenge, better than letting his emotions get the best of him. And yet, here he was, refusing to apologize, holding onto his hurt like a shield to protect himself from the vulnerability that had already been exposed.

The truth was, Spencer didn’t want to apologize. Not yet. Because apologizing meant admitting that he had overreacted, that he had let his feelings dictate his actions in a way that was unbecoming of him. It meant acknowledging that he had hurt you, just as you had hurt him, and that scared him. It was easier to stay angry, to keep the wall up between you, than to face the messy emotions lying beneath the surface.

But deep down, he knew that this wasn’t sustainable. He couldn’t keep holding onto his grudge, not if he wanted to move forward. The tension was eating away at him, and no matter how much he tried to justify his actions, the truth was undeniable: you both had hurt each other, and the only way to heal was to confront it head-on.

Yet, for now, Spencer was stuck in limbo, torn between the desire to hold onto his pride and the nagging realization that he needed to make things right.

—

The atmosphere on the jet was warm and filled with camaraderie as the team reminisced about their time together, particularly the time they had spent with you while JJ was on maternity leave.

“JJ, you would have loved her,” Derek said, a nostalgic smile on his face as he recalled your time on the team.

“I did get to meet her briefly before I went on leave!” JJ replied happily. “She was so sweet. I’m glad she was a good fit while I was gone.”

“Yeah, of course, we’re all so happy you’re back,” Emily added, gazing lovingly at JJ. “But if you need a break, you know who to send!”

Spencer sat quietly at the back of the jet, watching his teammates share fond memories of you as they traveled home from their first case with JJ back on the team. Everyone seemed to miss your positive attitude and bright presence—especially Spencer. Not that he was going to admit that, not even to himself.

During a video chat with Penelope, Derek’s curiosity got the better of him. “Garcia, you went and saw her this week, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I did,” Penelope confirmed, though her voice held a note of hesitation.

“Oh! How is she?” Emily asked excitedly.

Penelope paused, trying to tread carefully. “Um, she’s holding up,” she said, not wanting to give too much away but also not wanting to lie.

“Did something happen?” Derek asked, concern etched on his face. He had grown to care about you and was worried about what might be going on.

“Just some… personal things. She’ll be okay,” Penelope assured them, though her words did little to ease the tension.

Hotch, always the pragmatist, jumped in. “Did she say when she’ll be back? Emily and Spencer expressed interest in her help on previous cases.”

Everyone’s attention shifted to Spencer at that remark, surprised by Hotch’s comment. As far as they knew, Spencer wasn’t exactly your biggest fan. What they didn’t realize was that Spencer had asked Hotch about you in private, hoping for answers he didn’t want to admit he was seeking.

“No, she didn’t mention when she’ll be back to work,” Penelope replied, trying to sound casual.

The conversation eventually moved on, but Spencer stayed quiet, lost in his own thoughts. The knowledge that you weren’t doing well gnawed at him. Guilt tightened its grip on his heart. God, I’m an asshole, he thought bitterly.

Back at Quantico, Derek wasted no time. He cornered Spencer as soon as they got off the jet. “Reid, can I talk to you for a sec?” Derek’s tone left no room for refusal.

“Yeah, what’s up, Morgan?” Spencer replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Walk with me,” Derek said, leading the way to the break room, which was thankfully empty at that time of the evening. Once they were inside, Derek didn’t waste any time. “Do you remember telling me nothing was going on between you and Y/N?”

Spencer gulped, his throat suddenly dry as he realized where this conversation was headed. He could feel Derek’s eyes boring into him, the weight of his scrutiny heavy. “Uh-huh,” Spencer managed to get out, his voice tense.

Derek didn’t miss a beat, his expression unwavering as he leaned in slightly, his tone flat and unyielding. “I call bullshit.”

Spencer’s heart rate kicked up a notch, his mind scrambling for a way out of this. “Wh—what do you mean?” he stammered, trying to keep his composure even as his anxiety began to spike.

Derek crossed his arms, his gaze steady and unflinching. “You’re being weird, Reid. More so than usual.”

Spencer could feel the heat rising in his face, a flush of embarrassment mixed with frustration. He rolled his eyes, attempting to deflect with a weak jab. “Thanks,” he muttered, though he knew it wouldn’t be enough to throw Derek off the scent.

But Derek wasn’t letting it go, and Spencer knew he was cornered. The truth was about to come out, whether he was ready for it or not.

“I just mean that you’ve been moody, distant, grumpy. You snap at people, question Hotch. Anytime Y/N’s name is brought up, you get all twitchy, and you think we don’t notice, but we do. What happened, man?”

Spencer sighed, knowing he was caught. Stupid profilers. He realized there was no use trying to hide it anymore. Maybe if he confided in someone else, he could get some advice. Garcia was too biased, after all.

“Well, uh… we slept together before she started.”

“Whoa. Didn’t see that coming,” Derek admitted, clearly taken aback.

“Yeah. And she… she ditched me in the morning. In her own apartment. Never heard from her again until she showed up here.”

“Shit, man, really?”

“Mhm. I was so mad at her. She was acting like nothing happened, like she didn’t know me. So when we got that assignment in the club, I saw my opportunity, and I took it.”

Derek’s expression grew serious. “What did you do, Reid?”

“I… I used her,” Spencer confessed, his voice small.

Derek’s eyes widened in shock as he processed what Spencer had just revealed. “What? How?” Derek asked, his voice laced with disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend that Spencer, of all people, had done something so out of character.

Spencer swallowed hard, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. “That night… after the club… I went to her hotel room, and we… slept together. Again,” he admitted, his voice faltering slightly. “But this time… I left her.”

Derek stared at Spencer, the silence heavy between them. When he finally spoke, his tone was filled with disappointment. “That’s cold, man,” Derek said, shaking his head slowly, the disapproval clear in his voice. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing—this wasn’t the Spencer Reid he knew.

“I know,” Spencer replied quietly, his guilt evident. He looked down, unable to meet Derek’s gaze, the shame of his actions gnawing at him. He had crossed a line, and he knew it.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Derek pressed.

Spencer nodded, his shame overwhelming. “When we got back here, everyone was gone—at least, I thought they were—except Y/N. And I—I went up to her and said some nasty things. Letting her know I did it on purpose.”

“Reid… who are you?” Derek asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“I don’t know!” Spencer admitted, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’ve never felt like this before, and I feel so terrible. I don’t know how to fix it.”

Derek stared at Spencer, disbelief etched across his features. "Can you fix it? That’s fucked up, man."

Spencer’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. “Yeah, I’m not sure,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret and self-loathing. He couldn’t meet Derek’s gaze, the shame too overwhelming.

Derek sighed, his mind working to piece together the situation. “You said someone else was there?” he asked, his tone cautious as he tried to understand the full scope of what had happened.

“Penelope,” Spencer confirmed, the word coming out almost as a sigh.

Derek’s eyes widened slightly. “And she didn’t tell me? I’m gonna have to spank her,” he muttered, shaking his head, though his voice lacked its usual playfulness.

“She told me to fix things,” Spencer continued, his voice trembling slightly. “I guess Y/N was a mess.”

“I bet she was,” Derek said, his tone softening with a mixture of sympathy for you and disappointment in Spencer.

“But I don’t know how,” Spencer admitted, his frustration evident. He was desperate to make things right, but he was lost, unsure of where to even begin.

Derek’s expression grew stern, his disappointment clear. “Honestly, Reid, you’re on your own with this one. I’d love to help, but… I’m really disappointed in you.” His words were blunt, but they needed to be. Spencer had crossed a line, and Derek wasn’t going to sugarcoat that.

Spencer nodded, tears finally spilling over as he realized just how badly he had screwed things up.

Derek’s expression softened slightly. “I still love you, and I want you to make it better, but I wouldn’t blame her for not forgiving you.”

“I know,” Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible as he grappled with the weight of his actions.

—

After Penelope’s visit, you really tried to pull yourself together. Knowing that you had a friend who was willing to show up, help, and listen just because they cared was enough to get you off the couch. It was a reminder that you weren’t as alone as you felt, that there were people who genuinely cared about your well-being. That realization gave you the strength to take the first steps toward healing.

You began by slowly cleaning your apartment, reclaiming your space from the chaos that had taken over. The simple act of tidying up felt like a small victory, a sign that you were starting to regain control. You indulged in some much-needed self-care—long baths, good food, and moments of quiet reflection. It was during these moments of solitude that you finally allowed yourself to confront the emotions you had been avoiding.

In the end, you came to a few important realizations. Yes, you did like Spencer more than you had anticipated, more than you had wanted to admit to yourself. But he had hurt you, and that pain couldn’t be ignored. You wondered if you could ever trust him again, and whether you were willing to take that risk. After much contemplation, you decided that it was time to be the bigger person. You needed to apologize to Spencer, to acknowledge your part in the situation, and to put it all behind you so that you could move forward—both professionally and personally.

However, the thought of facing Spencer in person was daunting. It felt like too much, too fast. You had already done more personal growth in the past few days than you had in years, and you weren’t quite ready for that kind of confrontation. So, you chose the next best route: writing a letter. It was a way to express yourself honestly without the pressure of a face-to-face conversation.

You took a deep breath and began to write.

Spencer—

Clearly, we have let things get too far, and we are both to blame for that. I’m sorry that I initially approached you and started things up between us. And I am sorry for leaving you that morning; I was so used to avoiding intimacy that when I felt a spark with you, I ran instead of confronting it. That was my mistake, and you did not deserve that.

I was unaware that you had felt something as well. Had I known, I would have talked to you sooner instead of facing you with pure professionalism.

As for our last case, let’s just forget about it and put it behind us. I want to be able to work together in the future and not hold any grudges if that is okay with you.

I hope you can forgive me. I’m sorry, Spencer.

Y/N

You read the letter over a few times, making sure it said everything you needed it to. It wasn’t perfect, but it was honest, and that was what mattered. You hoped that by reaching out, you could begin to mend the rift between you and Spencer, even if it was just enough to work together without the weight of the past hanging over you.

With the letter finished, you carefully folded it and placed it in an envelope. As you sealed it, you felt a small sense of relief. Whatever happened next, at least you had taken the first step. The rest was up to Spencer.

—

Returning to work the next week, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. The time off had done you some good, giving you the space to process everything that had happened and to refocus on what mattered. You were ready to dive back into the work that you loved, ready to face whatever challenges came your way—bad guys and all.

But before you could truly settle in, there was one task you needed to take care of. You arrived at the office extra early, the halls still quiet and the lights dim. You moved through the bullpen with a sense of stealth, hoping to avoid any of your early-rising colleagues. The letter to Spencer was safely tucked into your bag, and you were determined to drop it off on his desk without anyone noticing.

You approached his workspace, heart pounding slightly as you pulled the envelope out and set it down. You took a moment to look around, ensuring you were alone, before placing it neatly on top of the stack of papers already waiting for him. The envelope stood out against the manila folders, a small but significant gesture.

You didn’t know how or if you’d hear back from Spencer. Part of you wondered if he’d read it and simply brush it aside, or if he’d respond in some way. But regardless of the outcome, you felt a sense of closure just knowing that you had reached out, that you had done your part to clear the air. Whatever happened next was in his hands.

With the letter delivered, you headed to your own desk, ready to start the day. There was work to be done, cases to solve, and while the tension with Spencer might still linger, you were determined not to let it hold you back. For now, you would focus on what you did best—being a valuable member of the team and making a difference in the world.

—

Spencer walked into work as usual, his routine in full swing as he slung his bag over the back of his chair. But something on his desk caught his eye—a white envelope with his name written on it in a familiar handwriting. He froze, recognition dawning on him. It looked just like the writing on the note you’d left him that morning at your apartment.

His heart pounded as he quickly opened the envelope, unfolding the letter inside. As he read your words, a sinking feeling settled in his stomach. You thought you were to blame? Spencer’s guilt surged, hitting him like a tidal wave. He had been angry and hurt when you left him, but now, realizing how much pain he had caused you in return, he felt even more like an asshole than before. This wouldn’t do at all. Spencer couldn’t stand the thought of you carrying the blame for what had happened between you two.

He knew he had to find you—now. He needed to make things right.

Without wasting another second, Spencer made a beeline for Penelope’s lair. He found her surrounded by her monitors, fingers flying over the keys.

“Garcia,” he began, trying to catch his breath, “do you know what department Y/N is in? I need to talk to her, apologize.”

Penelope turned to him, eyebrows raised skeptically. “Counterterrorism.”

“Thank you!” Spencer replied, already turning on his heel to head toward the elevator.

He punched the button for your floor, his nerves growing with each passing second. The setup was similar to their own, and it didn’t take him long to find the cluster of desks where you were stationed. He spotted someone he recognized—Jordan—and hurried over.

“Jordan, is Y/N here?” Spencer asked, trying not to sound too frantic.

“Uh, hello to you too, Spencer. Yeah, she’s in her office,” Jordan replied with a bemused smile.

“Thanks!” Spencer said quickly, making his way to the office with your name on the door. He paused outside, taking a deep breath to steady himself before knocking.

“Come in,” he heard your voice call from inside.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, feeling a rush of emotions as you looked up from your desk. Your eyes widened slightly in surprise before your expression quickly shifted to one of neutral professionalism.

“Hello, Doctor Reid. Can I help you?” you asked kindly, though there was a distance in your tone that made Spencer’s heart sink.

“You should have never apologized to me,” Spencer blurted out, unable to hold back.

You blinked, confused. “I’m sorry?”

“No, no, I mean—I should be the one apologizing,” Spencer clarified, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I was the jerk. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Spencer…” you began, but he could see the weariness in your eyes. “It’s over. Let’s let the past be the past.”

“No!” Spencer’s voice was more forceful than he intended, and he took a step closer to your desk. “I don’t want to push it aside. I want to talk about it. I want to fix things between us.”

You seemed taken aback by his intensity. “Why?”

“Because I care about you. I like you,” Spencer admitted, his voice softening as he finally voiced what he had been keeping inside.

“Oh,” was all you managed to say, your own emotions conflicting.

“Yeah,” Spencer let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I was kind of hoping you’d say you liked me too.”

You hesitated, glancing down at the papers on your desk before looking back up at him. “Oh, well, um, can we talk? After work? I’m really busy right now,” you said, your tone apologetic.

Spencer felt a pang of defeat, the familiar sting of rejection threatening to surface again. But he nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. “Yeah, do you want to come to mine?”

“No,” you shook your head gently. “How about we just talk here? Can you come back around 6?”

“Okay,” Spencer agreed, though the sinking feeling in his chest didn’t quite go away as he turned to leave your office.

As he walked back to his own floor, he couldn’t help but worry about what the conversation would bring. But he knew one thing for certain—he wasn’t going to let this chance to fix things between you slip through his fingers. Not again.

—

When Spencer returned to the bullpen, he immediately noticed Derek standing in the doorway to Penelope’s office. The two of them seemed deep in conversation, their body language tense. Spencer’s gut told him they were talking about him—he could feel it. The atmosphere had shifted, and when Derek glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of Spencer, his suspicions were confirmed.

Spencer knew he couldn’t avoid this, so he gathered what little pride he had left and walked over to them, trying to appear more composed than he felt.

“Baby girl here tells me you went to see Y/N?” Derek asked the moment Spencer stepped inside the office, his tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Yeah, I tried to apologize,” Spencer admitted, his voice lacking its usual confidence.

“Tried?” Penelope’s voice was softer than it had been earlier, her concern for both of you evident.

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She left me a note this morning. It was on my desk when I got here. She took responsibility for everything that happened, asked if we could forgive and forget. I felt so awful because I’m the one who made a mess of everything. So I went to go tell her that, but she asked me to come back after work because she’s busy.”

Penelope exchanged a glance with Derek, her expression softening further. “And how did that make you feel?” she asked gently.

“Defeated, I guess,” Spencer replied, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I wanted to fix things right away, but it feels like I just keep making things worse.”

Derek crossed his arms, his gaze steady on Spencer. “You’ve got to understand, man, she’s probably just as conflicted as you are. Maybe even more. This isn’t going to be a quick fix.”

Penelope nodded in agreement. “She’s trying to process everything too, Spencer. Give her the time she needs, and don’t push too hard. But don’t give up either. If you really want to make things right, show her that you’re willing to do the work.”

Spencer nodded slowly, taking in their advice. He knew they were right, but the waiting, the uncertainty—it was eating at him. Still, he couldn’t force this. He had to be patient, had to respect your boundaries. He just hoped that when the time came, you’d be willing to let him in again.

—

The clock felt like it was crawling at a snail's pace to Spencer. He watched as the seconds ticked by for what felt like hours—though it was really just minutes, probably. To you, though, time was slipping away faster than it ever had before. You were dreading this conversation. You had hoped the two of you could put this all behind you, maybe be friends one day, and then, maybe—just maybe—something more. But you knew that if you talked to him right now, one look into those big, beautiful brown eyes and you’d melt faster than Derek when Penelope called his name.

But alas, you had already agreed to talk, and those puppy eyes had already got you. Honestly, you were just proud of yourself for having the resolve to ask him to come back later instead of jumping over the desk and into his arms the second he said he liked you.

Your thoughts were still spiraling when that much-anticipated knock on your office door came. You cleared your throat, trying to steady yourself, before calling out, “Come in.”

—

Flashback…

“Come in,” you called out, your voice light and unassuming as a knock sounded on your office door.

“Hey,” Jackson’s head appeared in the doorway, his expression hesitant.

“Oh, hey babe,” you perked up at the sight of him, but something about his demeanor immediately put you on edge.

“Can we talk?” he asked, stepping inside with an uneasy shift in his posture.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied, your smile fading as you sensed that something was off. “What’s up?”

“Uh, so there’s not a great way to tell you this…” he started, his voice trailing off, filled with uncertainty.

Your stomach twisted with sudden anxiety. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. For now,” he answered, but there was no comfort in his tone.

“Jackson, spit it out,” you demanded, losing patience as the tension built.

“I got someone pregnant.”

Your entire world stopped. The air around you seemed to thicken, your ears buzzing like they were filled with water, your lungs constricting as if you were drowning on dry land. The words didn’t make sense, not at first. Not until they slammed into you with full force.

“Who?” you managed to choke out, though a part of you already feared the answer.

“Jessica.”

“My best friend, Jessica?” The disbelief in your voice was palpable, a desperate hope clinging to the idea that this might be some horrible joke.

“That one, yup,” he confirmed, his voice lacking any hint of remorse.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Please tell me this is a joke and you’re going to propose instead,” you pleaded, your voice rising as anger and heartbreak collided.

“What? No, Y/N, I’m being serious.”

“Then why did I find a fucking engagement ring in your sock drawer?” you demanded, your anger boiling over as your heart cracked in two.

“Why were you in my sock drawer?” he deflected, his tone defensive.

“I was doing laundry! Answer me, Jackson!”

“I’m going to ask Jessica to marry me,” he said, his words hitting you like a sledgehammer.

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of the betrayal. “Is it because she’s pregnant… or do you love her?” you asked, your voice trembling. You weren’t sure you wanted to know, but you needed the truth.

“I—I love her,” he admitted, his voice weak.

“How long?” you asked, your voice eerily calm as the tears began to stream down your face. The numbness was already setting in, the shock taking over, leaving your gaze blank and distant. Jackson had never seen you like this in all the years you’d been together, not even when he first found you on that bench.

“What?” he stammered, thrown by your sudden composure.

“How long have you been sleeping with her?” you repeated, the question sharp and cold.

“A few months,” he confessed, his voice barely audible.

“Get out,” you ordered, your voice devoid of emotion.

“Y/N—”

“Get the fuck out, Jackson!” you shouted, the rage finally breaking through the numbness.

Jackson hesitated, guilt flashing in his eyes. “Um, before I go—and I will—you need to move out.”

The final blow. The nail in the coffin. You couldn’t believe the audacity, the cruelty. “I hope you both live a very unhappy and unfulfilling life,” you spat, your voice dripping with venom.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he offered weakly, but the apology was hollow, meaningless.

You turned away from him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing any more of your pain. Jackson left without another word, leaving you alone with the shattered remnants of what you thought was your future.

—

Present

Spencer walked in, closing the door softly behind him before turning to face you. “Hi,” he breathed out, his voice carrying a mix of nervousness and resolve.

“Hi, Spencer,” you replied, your tone equally cautious but warm.

“How was your day?” he asked, clearly trying to ease into the conversation that both of you knew was coming.

“Agonizing, thanks. And yours?” you responded, a hint of humor lacing your words despite the tension.

“Just about the same,” he admitted with a small, rueful smile. “I’m sorry about that too. Should we just lay it all out? No more tiptoeing around?”

“Probably,” you agreed, feeling the weight of the conversation ahead settle in your chest.

“Okay,” Spencer said, taking a deep breath as he prepared to speak. “I can go first if it’s easier.” You nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

“Um, I don’t date much. Or sleep around, ever, really. So spending that night with you was important to me. Especially because it was with you,” he said earnestly, his eyes meeting yours with sincerity. “I really enjoyed the time we spent together—the convention, the bar, your place, all of it. I was so, so hurt when you were gone the next morning. It took me weeks to make peace with the fact that you’d left without a word. And then you showed up to my work, the new girl, and acted like nothing ever happened. While I understand now why you did that, it still stung—a lot.”

Spencer paused, taking a breath as if to steady himself. You opened your mouth to respond, but he shook his head, signaling that he wasn’t finished yet.

“But even when you were pushing our time together aside, you were so kind and helpful, so good at your job… it sucked,” he laughed lightly, though there was an edge of bitterness to it. “Because I wanted to hate you so badly, but I don’t know how anyone ever could hate you.” Your eyes welled up with tears at his words—he had no idea how much that simple sentence meant to you.

“Then you noticed little things about me,” Spencer continued, his voice softer now. “You drove when we were paired, you never grabbed my hands, you didn’t force me to talk to you… you were so considerate. When we had that assignment to play a couple at the club, I was so upset because that’s all I wanted—I wanted you to be my girlfriend, I wanted it to be real. But it wasn’t,” he smiled sadly, his eyes reflecting the regret he felt. “And afterwards, when I was feeling sorry for myself, I decided it was your fault we weren’t together, and that I wanted to hurt you back.”

Spencer looked down, fidgeting with his hands as he searched for the right words. You waited, sensing that this was the hardest part for him to admit.

“That was the meanest, cruelest, most immature thing I have ever done. And I am so, so sorry,” he said, his voice trembling with genuine remorse. “I understand if you don’t forgive me, but I just need you to know how amazing you are, and how none of my actions are at all a reflection of you or how I feel about you.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. You could see how much it had taken for him to come here and lay it all out, to admit his wrongs and ask for forgiveness. And as much as the hurt still lingered, you could see that he was sincere, that he truly regretted what he had done.

—

Flashback…

“Y/N! Y/N, please! Just hear me out!” Jackson’s voice was desperate as he called after you, his footsteps quickening as he tried to catch up.

You stopped in your tracks, spinning around to face him, your glare so hot it could have burned him alive. “Jackson! Enough!” you seethed, the fury in your voice cutting through the air like a knife.

“Please… I need to explain,” he pleaded, his eyes wide with panic.

“Explain what?” you snapped. “You cheated with my best friend, got her pregnant, and dumped me. What more is there?”

His face crumpled as he tried to find the right words. “I still love you,” he blurted out, his voice trembling with emotion.

“Go fuck yourself. Or Jessica. I really don’t care,” you retorted, your voice dripping with disdain.

“No, baby, please—”

“Do not call me that,” you cut him off, your tone icy.

“Okay,” he muttered, stepping back with his hands up in surrender. “Just, please?”

You crossed your arms, staring him down. “Fine. Two minutes.”

Jackson blinked, caught off guard by the time limit. “How am I supposed to tell you everything in two minutes?” he asked, panic rising in his voice.

“Time’s ticking, troglodyte,” you shot back, your patience wearing thin.

“What’s that? Wait, no, don’t answer that,” he stammered, realizing he was wasting precious seconds. “Okay, well, I just… I’m so insecure, and I was worried you didn’t like me anymore, and Jessica made me feel good about myself—”

“Bullshit,” you interrupted, your eyes narrowing.

“No, no, it’s true,” he insisted, his voice wavering.

“You’re saying it’s my fault you cheated?” you asked, your voice deadly calm.

“No! You were so busy, and I needed attention,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush.

“So it’s my fault,” you repeated, your anger simmering beneath the surface.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, his voice rising in desperation. “Please, stop interrupting me. We got into this routine that made every day feel so mundane. We never did anything exciting anymore, and Jessica was new and thrilling, and—”

“Time’s up,” you interrupted, your voice cold and final. “Bye.”

“Y/N—” he started, reaching out as if to stop you, but you were already walking away, your footsteps resolute as you disappeared down the crowded sidewalk.

Jackson stood there, his hand falling limply to his side as he watched you vanish into the throng of people. He knew, in that moment, that he had lost you for good.

—

Present

“You wanted me to be your girlfriend?” you asked, your voice small and uncertain.

Spencer looked up, startled by the calmness in your tone. There was no anger, no bitterness—just a quiet curiosity. “Yeah, I really did,” he admitted, his heart racing.

“You don’t anymore?” you asked, your eyes searching his face for an answer.

“Huh?” Spencer blinked, caught off guard by the question.

“You said ‘wanted’ and ‘did,’” you explained, your voice wavering slightly. “I’m just wondering if the feelings stopped.”

Realization dawned on him, and he quickly shook his head. “No, they didn’t.” Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest as he took a bold leap, hoping it was worth the risk.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as Spencer watched you, his nerves on edge. “Listen, Spencer…” you began, and his heart sank as he braced himself for the rejection he feared was coming. He dropped his gaze, the weight of your words pressing down on him. “I have a lot of baggage. I’m basically damaged goods,” you laughed sadly, the sound tinged with self-doubt. “I haven’t been someone’s girlfriend in a long time. I don’t know that I would be any good at it.”

Spencer nodded, feeling the final sting of rejection sink in. He understood, or at least he thought he did. But then your words started to process, and something didn’t add up. “Wait,” he said, his head snapping up as he noticed the small smile playing on your lips. “What are you saying?”

You met his gaze, the warmth in your eyes catching him off guard. “I’m saying, if you’re willing to be patient with me, I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat, disbelief and joy swirling together as he processed what you were saying. A smile slowly spread across his face, the weight he’d been carrying for weeks suddenly lifting. “Are you serious?” he asked, his voice filled with hope.

You nodded, your smile widening. “Yeah, I’m serious.”

In that moment, Spencer felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time—pure, unfiltered happiness. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as it found yours. “I’ll be patient,” he promised, his voice soft but firm. “I’ll be whatever you need.”

You squeezed his hand, a sense of relief washing over you as the tension between you finally began to melt away. For the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe, just maybe, this could work.

“What if all my baggage is too heavy?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly with lingering doubts.

Spencer’s expression softened as he looked at you, his eyes filled with understanding. “Y/N, I’ve been kidnapped, drugged, addicted to said drugs, and tortured. I don’t think anything you say will scare me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh through the mild tears that had formed over the course of the conversation. His words, though dark, were comforting in their own way. “Thank you, Spencer.”

“Are you sure you can handle me?” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Not at all,” you shook your head, your laughter mixing with his. “But I’d rather be with you than without.”

Spencer’s heart swelled at your words, and without thinking, he leaned over your desk and kissed you. This kiss was different from all the ones you’d shared before—it wasn’t driven by lust or desperation, but by care, passion, and something that felt a lot like love.

When he finally pulled back, he couldn’t help but smile at the dazed look on your face, your lips still parted slightly in surprise. “One more thing,” he added, his voice light but a little sheepish.

“Mhm,” you managed, still a bit breathless as you looked up at him.

“Penelope and Derek know everything… sorry. They’re pissed at me.” Spencer laughed a bit at himself.

You blinked, then smiled. “Penelope already knew, babe,” you reassured him. “I’ll make sure they know everything’s good.”

Spencer let out a relieved sigh, grateful for your understanding. “Thank you,” he said softly, his hand gently brushing your cheek.

You leaned into his touch, the weight of your worries finally beginning to lift. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you wouldn’t have to face them alone—not anymore.

—

Three years later

“Y/N?” The sound of your name caused you to spin around from where you were examining flowers with Spencer.

“Jackson?” The shock in your voice was unmistakable as you registered the familiar face.

“Oh my god, wow!” Jackson exclaimed, stepping closer with a broad smile. “It’s so good to see you! How have you been?” He moved in for a hug, but you kept your hands on the flowers, avoiding the embrace.

He quickly took the hint, stepping back awkwardly. “Uh, good. You?” you asked, your tone polite but distant.

“I’m great, yeah! Still working on base. What are you up to?” Jackson’s voice held a note of forced cheerfulness, as if trying to bridge the years that had passed.

“FBI,” you replied simply.

“Wow! That’s amazing! What do you do—” Jackson began, but his question was abruptly cut off as Spencer approached, holding a different set of flowers and unaware of who Jackson was.

“Darling, what do you think of these?” Spencer asked, holding up the bouquet for you to see, his tone casual and affectionate.

“Those are beautiful, baby,” you replied with a warm smile, feeling a sense of calm wash over you as you turned your attention back to Spencer.

Jackson cleared his throat, drawing your focus back to him. “Who’s this?” he asked, clearly caught off guard by the presence of another man.

“Oh!” You had honestly forgotten he was still there. “This is my fiancé,” you said, a note of pride in your voice as you gestured to Spencer.

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” Spencer introduced himself, nodding politely but with a friendly demeanor.

“Oh, hi. Uh, Jackson,” he replied, awkwardly extending his hand, which Spencer smiled at and lifted his in a wave as a response.

There was a tense silence, filled only by the ambient noise of the flower shop. Jackson looked like he had more to say, but the words seemed to elude him. Meanwhile, you felt nothing but gratitude for the life you had built with Spencer—one filled with love, trust, and a future that Jackson no longer had any part of.

“Are you guys, uh, looking at flowers for your wedding?” Jackson asked, his voice a little hesitant as he glanced between you and Spencer.

“Yeah, we wanted to pick everything together,” you replied, smiling up at your very handsome fiancé. The warmth in your voice was undeniable, and it wasn’t lost on Jackson.

“And you?” Spencer asked politely, still unsure of who this man was but trying to be courteous.

“Oh, uh, these are ‘I’m sorry’ flowers for my girlfriend,” Jackson laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

“Jessica?” you asked before you could stop yourself. At the mention of her name, Spencer’s expression shifted, finally catching on to who Jackson was.

“No, hah, we broke up a long time ago,” Jackson admitted, the awkwardness between the three of you growing palpable.

“Ah, well, I hope your child is doing well,” you said, your tone polite but distant. You nodded to Jackson before turning back to Spencer, gently tugging him by your laced fingers as you both walked away, trying to stifle the giggles that threatened to escape.

Once you were out of earshot, Spencer leaned in, a mischievous grin on his face. “Was that your ex?”

“Mhm,” you confirmed, grinning back at him.

“What a charmer,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You laughed, the tension from the unexpected encounter melting away. “You know, I’m really glad it’s you I’m marrying.”

“Me too,” Spencer replied, squeezing your hand affectionately as you both walked out of the shop, leaving the past firmly behind you.

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justliketoreadsowhat · 4 months ago

Text

Captured ☁︎︎

☁︎︎𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬

☁︎︎𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐞, 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭

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

“𝐃𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬?“

“𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞“

“𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐦.. 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?“ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤, 𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡.

With summer almost coming to an end, it was only right to sneak in a few more side quests before your two worlds became obstructed with sports & school. Overtime you and Paige learned to never take these moments for granted, as she would soon be making her way to the WNBA, where things would never be the same.

“Bought a camera and don’t even know how to work it” Drew snickered, watching her older sister struggle to his amusement. “I told you to keep the instructions”

Side eyeing Drew she bantered “I don’t need instructions and I definitely don’t need to listen to a 10-year-old”

The two were indefinitely the same people in different fonts, but nevertheless, the core memories being created made up for everything else that happened in between.

"I'm sure you'll get some good pictures once the lights dim a little bit. besides the scenery is way too nice for the camera to give it enough justice" you appealed to the view, sitting in the row watching the players move swiftly to hit the ball to the opposite side of the net.

"Yeah you have a point, I jus wanna have these moments to keep with me" admitting to her thoughts slipping out from her mouth. Paige loved experiencing new things, cherishing them with the people that she loved. Most importantly, you.

"I get it, we can go get them printed out afterward" The suggestion molded your mind into the memory of when you first met Paige. Her room was filled with polaroids and old cameos adorned with her friends and family. She talked for hours about what happened during each one, as she wrote dates on the back in case her memory became clouded.

A smug look grew upon her face and she examined your expression, she knew you all too well. it became like a 2nd nature to her to notice when you were in a thinking daze. "You should let me take some more of you, I'm having withdrawals"

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion "Wha- Paige you took pictures of me when we went to Aaliyah's game"

She scoffed at your allegation "That was over a month ago!" Truth be told she was a true lover girl at heart, she could never get enough of you. Religiously keeping small pictures in the back of her phone case to keep you close to her heart even though you were miles away.

"Okay okay fine, but you need to take some of yourself too, you look beautiful” admiring the way her ponytail fell perfectly down her back as two strands framed her face.

"Sooo...we all just forgot about me? I would like some cool flicks too" Drew asserted, removing the camera from Paige's hands quickly changing the settings.

"We'd never forget about you Drewski" you laughed as you watched him hold up the camera extremely close to his sister's face.

"Say cheeseee" he dragged, the sound of the camera clicking, clashing with the bright flash blinding everyone in sight.

"Shit I'm gonna go blind" Paige muttered rubbing her now sensitve eyes.

"You're already blind P"

"Ayee that was a good one" Drew lit up with excitement, reaching across to shake hands in agreement.

"Alright now nobody's getting pictures since you two think it's so funny" Her protest grew weak as an announcement over the intercom haltered the crowds' attention.

"No Flash Photography Please, Thank You"

"You sure you don't need those instructions?"

"Just let me live bro" she groaned placing the camera back around her neck. “They’re definitely gonna fine me now”

“S’okay, it’ll all be worth it”

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬.

#paige bueckers #paige x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #fanfic

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bisexual-horror-fan · 11 months ago

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"The Best Gift He Can Give." Mickey Altieri X AFAB! Reader.

Okay, so the amazing and fantastic @mrsaltieri-real had a birthday a while ago, and I wrote this as a gift. I edited it to make it reader insert friendly and now I am sharing it with all of you! I hope you all enjoy it.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 5.4K. Mickey Altieri X AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Your Boyfriend David Fucking Sucks. Your Boyfriend Cheats On You. Apologies To Dudes Named David Who Don't Suck. Stalking. Breaking And Entering. Murder. Blood. Gore. Violence. Making Out. Grinding. Vaginal Fingering. Eating Out. Eating Ass. Hair Pulling. Spanking. Praise. Degredation. Rimming. Vaginal Sex. Cream Pie. Confessions Of Feelings.

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There are people in this world who do not deserve anything. They don’t deserve kindness, or understanding, they don’t deserve friends, they don’t even deserve to breathe. One such asshole was your boyfriend, David. You don’t even know why he is your boyfriend, honestly you’ve had friends ask, and you are never sure much what to say. He treats you terribly, he is mean to you, rude, constantly picks fights, and it isn’t like you can say, “Well at least the sex is good-”

Because it is very much not. You’d been together for four years, and it had never been good.

Mickey didn’t know about that, though. All he knew to start is that you were cute, and he liked how you looked, the rest started to become revealed to him through watching you over time. He remembers the first afternoon he started to pick up on that very clearly. He was in the library, one table over, trying to do some actual work, sure he wasn’t paying for his degree, but he couldn’t exactly flunk out either, and he overheard an interaction, “Do you have to turn your pages so loud?”

Your head snaps up, looking over to him, Mickey’s own eyes flick up, but his head doesn’t raise, brows furrow in question mirroring yours as you ask, “Excuse me?”

“You are turning the pages of your book really loudly-” He drew out your name, focused on it, and that made your expression turn from somewhat annoyed confusion to outright disgust, a roll of your eyes. “Fuck off David.”

His tone made Mickey’s skin crawl, “Sooo mature, this is a library, can’t you keep it down and show some class?”

Mickey had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping, who the fuck was this guy, and why was he so comfortable talking to you like that? He thought boyfriends were supposed to be fucking nice to their girlfriends, and here he was treating you like he hated you, as if you were shit on the bottom of his shoe.

That was not the only time he saw you being treated so shamefully by David, either. Seems whenever he overheard, walked by, you were being talked down to by him or already mid-fight.

Worse still he would complain about what you wore deriding any skin you wanted to show, and what you were into, he’d overheard him belittling your love of movies too. “How the fuck can you do that shit?”

“Do what shit, David?” You sighed, and he asked, “What the same fucking movies over and over, don’t you ever get bored?”

Your reply comes out almost bored, edging on annoyed, “Those same movies over and over are definitely more interesting than talking to you so-”

“Woooow, is that any way to talk to me?” He’d ask, and Mickey would think to himself that you should treat him a Hell of a lot worse for how he acts.

You and Mickey had been friends in secret for a while, it had been a very quiet affair, mostly because David would be threatened and jealous, something that bugged Mickey, but he was just glad for the time spent with you and to get to know you. Small moments carved out whenever that prick wasn’t around became absurdly meaningful.

One day he found you alone on a park bench on campus and seemingly very upset, he couldn’t leave you like that, your boyfriend isn’t around and so he comes forward until he is close enough to ask, “Hey uh, you good?”

Head raises, and you sniff, hands rushing to wipe at your nose and mouth, you nod shakily, mouth dry as you say, “Yeah, totally, so, so good.”

He lets himself smile this kind of sad smile as he sits down beside you, humming out, “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Leave it alone.” You sigh, and he presses, “No way, there has to be a reason you’re this upset and I wanna know.”

You slump back further into the bench, averting your gaze as you confess, “You caught me, M’ not good at all. I just found out that my boyfriend fucking cheated on me.”

Immediate anger flares as does genuine concern for you, both emotions taking hold makes his eyebrows raise and his hand reach out to touch your elbow, your attention snaps back to him. Your eyes meet, and he says, “You can talk to me.”

“What is there to talk about?” It’s said very quietly, and his grip on you tightens by a fraction as he encourages, “Plenty. It isn’t healthy to keep this shit bottled up, what he did was fucked, talk to me about it.”

You haven’t opened up in such a long time but right now, something in his eyes beckons you and the urge overtakes, you feel safe and think, maybe you should open up. Your stomach is churning, and you think, what harm could it do? You start to tell him, a verbal torrent that once it began it was impossible to stop, as you vent about David and the series of horrible things he had put you through in your relationship. He listens, and only when you stop for breath does he say, “You don’t deserve to be treated like this, you could do so much better than an asshole like him.”

A small shrug as you brush him off, “It’s easier to stay in this relationship because it’s all I’ve ever known. Even if I broke things off with him, he’d never really let me go.”

“What do you mean he wouldn’t let you go?” His question isn’t entirely unexpected, but you still struggle for a moment to respond, “I dunno, I just…I know he would put up a massive fight, and I couldn’t ever just make a clean break. He wouldn’t let that happen.”

He licks his lips tentatively, an almost nervous action, “He…He doesn’t own you. Hon, you know that, right?”

You looked over at Mickey and said quietly, unconvincingly, “I know that.”

He wasn’t sold. He hated the look in your eyes right now. Not only that, but he tried to break the tension and asked, “Is the sex that good or-?”

You laughed, head tipping back, genuine smile crossing your face, you shake your head as you catch your breath and tell him, “God no, it’s terrible! So vanilla, nothing but missionary, he never even eats me out.” You exhale and expound further, “He expects me to blow him too.”

“Fuck off no way.” His reaction pulled another laugh out of you, and he insists, “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.” You sighed. He speaks with conviction, anger but not at you, never at you, more frustration at your situation and how you seemingly have just accepted it. “Why the fuck do you put up with this asshole? Seems like you are doing all the giving with no take.”

A shrug as you tell him, refusing to look at him any longer, “I’ve grown used to it, it’s been just so long of the same thing, you know?”

That was fucking bullshit. Sunk cost fallacy much? Clearly you were never going to get out from under this jerk’s thumb on your own, so he was going to do something about this. It would take some work, but you were more than worth it. He started to stalk him, determined to get real dirt on him, he learns his routine and becomes far too acquainted with even the most basic and mundane things about your boyfriend.

It doesn’t take him long, around a month in is when Mickey catches David in the act of cheating, he was fucking some girl from his film class.

It was infuriating! Here he has you, a total fucking catch, and he doesn’t appreciate you, mistreats you, and cheats on you on top of all that. What a complete piece of fucking trash.

He has every intention of telling you when he has the adequate proof-

Wait.

What if he tells you and you still stay? You seemed so downtrodden, what if not even this is enough to convince you to leave? Fuck, that would be terrible, but he couldn’t let that hold him back.

He just needed to stay on task, stay focused, and this could work out. He clung closer, tried to be around you more and provide more support, but that, as it turns out, only made it harder. Having to be confronted so frequently with the damage he was doing to you, how sad you were, it made him hurt in kind. He really fucking cared about you.

On top of all of this, his presence is apparently putting more pressure on your relationship. He comes across you and David having a loud and public altercation a few days later, as he gets closer he realizes it is about him.

“You can’t tell me what to do!” You insist, and David bites back, “Oh, can’t I?”

“No! You can’t! What is the problem anyway?” You try to implore, and he isn’t having it, “I don’t like him! No, scratch that, I fucking hate him. You shouldn’t be talking to any guy, I don’t want you to even look in his direction-”

“You are so ridiculous-”

He can’t stay. He can’t listen to this. Furthermore, he can’t stand idly by any longer. He is going to do something about this.

Breaking into David’s place was easy, taking his time is what was difficult. He eases into his bedroom, costume on, knife already in his hand, and comes up to the bed. You were back at your own place, far away and hopefully peacefully sleeping, blissfully unaware of just what he was about to do for you, of the devotion he has and was about to display.

He wanted to spit in the fucker’s face for what he did to you, more than that he wanted to main and mutilate him, wanted to inflict as much physical pain onto him as he inflicted mental pain onto you. He reached down, he ripped the blanket back, and with one smooth motion he stabbed the sharp blade into David’s stomach.

The reaction was immediate, his eyes snapping open, mouth open in a soundless scream as it seems all the air leaves him, hands flying to his stomach trying to clutch at the blade but stopping short, afraid to touch the intrusion. He ripped the knife out and then stabbed it back in, immediately. He twists, David inhaled as much as he could but then breathed out, hiccuping on the air, it becomes a complete bloodbath. Mickey cuts, he stabs, he hurts him as he can’t hold back, and David chokes out, “Why?”

Mickey laughs, this cold and calculating kind of laugh before he takes the mask off, and then he starts to talk, “You are a pathetic excuse for a man, a worthless piece of trash-”

The knife is ripped out and brought back down harder than before, the steel scrapes bone, and he sobs, “-you don’t deserve someone like her, you know that, right? You’ve been mistreating her for way too long.”

The metal wrenched free and then drove deeply inward again, the next sound of pain is a short gasp, Mickey tells him further, “That is why I am doing this, I am going to step in and take over.”

David looked so pitiful, tears down his cheek, bloodstained and movements slowing, weakening. Mickey leaned down and told him lowly,“I’m going to make her feel so, SO much better than you ever did.”

He is unrecognizable. Organs are laying all around him, cuts on his face making it, so his identity is basically gone, partially skinned in places. He wished he could have taken the time to skin him alive, fillet him like a fucking fish, but even that would be too good for him. He is sure that he has drained him of about half of his blood, the mattress is soaked, heavy and thick, there is a squelching sound when Mickey gets off the bed. The blood has soaked through the robe, it is staining his shirt and jeans he is positive of it, the handle of the knife is slick, he can feel coagulated blood that has gathered between his fingers, the clots are slippery and almost black.

There is one place he wants to be and it’s with you.

He goes to your place.

It is obscenely late when you open the door, you are in your pyjamas, you look fucking gorgeous to him.

“Mickey?” You rub over your eyes, suppressing a yawn, you ask, “What are you doing here?”

He pushes past you, comes inside as he starts to talk, “I had to come see you, I just did something amazing tonight-”

You close the door, he is talking quickly, a mile a minute, excited, manic. “I was thinking about what told me about David and I just got so fucking inspired, you know? So I decided I just had to do it, so I did but, darling, you need to tell me, what else didn’t he do for you?”

“What he didn’t do?” You repeat, softer, confused, and he nods, brows raised and eyes alight, mischievous, “Yes, tell me all the things he doesn’t do for you.”

It is then that you take him in awake enough to register, and notice what he is wearing. A black robe, almost plastered to his body, your eyes flit downwards, and you see that it’s shiny in a particular way that tattles on it being wet, but wet with what? Eyes catch red droplets on the ground coming off of the frayed edged of the black fabric, your gaze shoots back up. You smell the iron, and you see the small flecks of red on his face, and so the question tumbles out, “What is with the robe and is that fucking blood?”

This half smile on his face and a cock of his head as he tells you as if it couldn’t be more obvious, “I just killed David. For you sweetheart.”

You don’t feel angry or upset, to your complete surprise, you feel an insane and immense sense of relief that David is gone. You no longer have to put up with him.

A sharp inhale as the feeling sinks in, you let it wash over you, not fighting it, letting it soak into your bones. Another question spills out as you ask, “What did you do to him?”

His grin is so wide you worry it hurts his face.

“I snuck into his apartment, broke in with no issue, I crept into his bedroom and I stabbed a knife-” He brought one foot up, boot rested on the chair at your desk, hauling up the robe, careful not to get blood on more than he had already his hand grasps the hand of the knife. He unsheathes it from the holster that was strapped to his leg, his foot comes back down, he is holding the knife up, you can see the dried blood all over the blade and his hand, he continues to expound, “-this knife, into his stomach.”

He mimics the motion, smile still pulling his features tight, “He gasped and struggled, it was pathetic. I ran him through over and over, the sound was wet, the blood gushed.”

A sigh crosses his lips, he is looking down at the blade, turning it over in his hands. You, too, are fixated on the glinting metal as it moves from one hand to the next. He keeps talking. “You’d think sound would be a concern. That he’d be screaming his fucking head off, right?”

You look up, he is staring at your face, expectant, you respond to the question, a shaky nod. He continues on, a point of his knife, “Wrong. When you stab someone right, it sucks all the air out of their lungs.” The images his is giving fills your head, of David lying there, bleeding and as Mickey put it, pathetic. He is still expounding. “I was relentless, kept stabbing him, he had no chance to catch his breath. You can’t scream if you can’t breathe.”

You listen enthralled as he describes how he cut flesh from bone, how chunks fell away, digging fingers into open wounds, manually separating cartilage and skin and muscle apart just because he could. He speaks of how much blood he drained and by the end of it you were breathing much harder as was he. Almost no space between the pair of you.

He is looking in your eyes, and he speaks, “I ask again, what did he never do for you?”

You can’t help it, inquiring, “Why do you want to know so bad?”

“Because sweetheart-” He sets the knife down on your desk, his hand reaches out to take yours, tacky with partially dried crimson, and he says, “-baby, darling, I want to make you feel all the things you’ve missed out on the past few years.”

You are as explicit in describing what you’d been missing as he was when describing the violence he did to David.

“He never made me cum with his mouth, his dick, not even his fingers. I haven’t felt a hot tongue on my clit in fucking years.” You start, a deep inhale before you force it out, speak in hushed tones, “He only ever fucked me in missionary, he never put a hand on my throat and choked me, never pulled my hair, he never praised me, fuck, Mick, he never even degraded me.”

You sigh now, “Never spanked me, never ate my ass, God do I want someone to eat my ass and above all else, he never overstimulated me-”

He cut you off. His mouth crashing into yours after far too long, he kisses you deeply, and you fall into it, into him. A moan into his mouth, hands reach out, fingers tangle in the sleeves, they feel damp, you flex your fingers, you squeeze, beads of blood squeeze through your fingers. Your tongue runs over his bottom lip, and you revel in the taste of him. Christ it was never like this with David, a simple kiss with Mickey was serving to do you in, the graze of his lips against yours, of his tongue brushing yours was sending sparks throughout you.

Feet stumble back, you pull him with you, keep him near, unwilling to break the connection you’ve made and yet you do, a quiet mumbling of, “Get this fucking robe off-”, pulling on his sleeves for further emphasis. The contact is broken for him to listen and obey, he pulls the robe off and drops it onto the floor, the blood has soaked through to his t-shirt he was wearing, and again you are confronted with what he did. He killed David for you, the evidence of his care for you, of his total devotion is splattered all over him, plastering his shirt to him, soaked into thin fabric.

This time, you are pulling him back to you, greedy and needy as you do so. Mouths meet again as you are moving backward, the back of your knees hit the edge of your mattress, and you let yourself fall, tugging him down with you.

His leg slots between yours as his lips descend on yours again, you sink further into the mattress as he, in turn, sinks into you, melting into the contact, his leg presses closer, knee is tighter to you and that makes you inhale sharply. That sets something off in him.

One of his hands moves, threads in your hair, and he tugs, it forcefully breaks the kiss and pulls a moan from you at the delicious rush of pain. His mouth moves, presses over your jaw, down your throat, and he makes your hips move on their own, grinding against him, desperate for more already. A squirm of your hips as you drag your clothed slit against his solid thigh, and the wash of pleasure makes you have to suppress a shudder, a whining moan held back as well as you bite your bottom lip.

He notices immediately, pulling back from your neck, another tug of your hair, and he makes you look at him, “None of that shit, I don’t fucking care how late it is, I don’t care if every son of a bitch on this entire floor files a noise complaint, I want to hear you, no holding back.”

You are stunned, speechless, your hips shift, and you are drenched, underwear plastered to you and one of his hands locks onto your throat, he squeezes and says, “I’m not hearing you say yes.”

You just cannot believe everything you’ve ever wanted has fallen into your lap, you choke out, “Yes, yes, please, fucking yes-”

He shuts you up with another kiss and that is how things seriously escalate, both of you rushing to undress each other. You hadn’t been wearing much to sleep, the tank top and shorts were removed, his shirt and shoes are off now, and he stops. You are looking up at him, admiring him the same way he is you, even with almost all his clothing removed there is still the mark of the crime he committed, blood left on his torso after leaking through his shirt, splatters on his arms, the small flecks on his face. He is looking at you like you are a full meal with nothing more in his way than damp lace, “Fucking Christ-”

He sighs, his fingers trace the curve of your breast before he fully takes it in his hand, he looks helpless in regard to what he wants to do, he follows the impulse, he leans down, and his mouth latches onto one of your nipples. His tongue circles and you sigh, arching up into him.

His teeth graze as one of his hands slips between your thighs, he only gets one pass of his fingers over the wet material before he decides that isn’t good enough. Fingers hook in the thin garment, and he pulls, he hopes you didn’t give a shit about them because he cannot be bothered to remove them properly, he pulls until it rips and throws it aside. No chance of you complaining because his fingers are on you, strong digits press to you bare for the first time.

Your eyes roll back with a soft, “Oh my fucking God-” which Mickey absolutely eats up as he starts to move, fingers trace slowly, dipping low, catching some mess and dragging it up, using it as lube to rub your clit.

The increase in pleasure was immediate, your body slowly starts to tense as the feeling digs into your bones, you fully give in to what he is doing to you.

“Do you know how much I’ve poured over this?” He asks, and you say quietly, “No.”

“So many nights.” He confesses, his fingers pick up the pace, tight circles rubbed, and he tells you more, “I’d think about this, about having you under me, about doing-” Two fingers ease inside of you, and he moans like it’s his pleasure, breathing out, “-this.”

“You feel better than I ever thought you could, so fucking wet, so soft.” He groans, and you arch closer, his palm presses nearer, he moves and works with you, fingers curling into that sweet spot and hand grinding over your clit. You listen, and you feel, minutes later, very quickly between his hushed words and expert touch you are shivering and telling him, “M’ close Mickey-”

“Fuck yes, do it.” The firm command makes it impossible to stop, you tip over and cum. It feels phenomenal, it’s been ages since anyone has done this, showed this level of care and investment in your enjoyment. He doesn’t relent, keeps his pace steady and consistent, and draws out every bit of feeling he can from your high.

He doesn’t let you rest, your body sinks back into the mattress, you are panting, and he slides his fingers out of you and right into his mouth. Not only that, but he tastes you for the first time and moans from the salt and tang of you coating his tongue.

“You taste better than anything I’ve ever put in my mouth.” He slips down your body, drags of his lips lighting further fire in you until he settles between your thighs, his mouth latches onto your still very sensitive clit and your thighs clamp around his head immediately. Your hand shoots down, fingers in his stupidly attractive hair, and you moan loudly, just as he wants you to.

He was ravenously hungry but still taking his time with this, he forces himself to slow down just a touch, he knows you haven’t had this in years thanks to that douchebag of an ex-boyfriend. He laps at your leaking slit, from hole all the way up to your throbbing clit, he swirls his tongue around the boarders once, twice, three times before passing over it again, making you gasp out his name.

Mickey luxuriates in the act and does his best to ensure that you do as well, sucks with purpose and is quickly rocketing you to another orgasm, you can barely string together a sentence to warn him of that, but he knows, fingers twist further in his hair, and you pull with a cry of his name, in another two short minutes you are cumming again, it’s stronger than the first, you are louder than you were last time, but he continues. He doesn’t stop on your come down, he just slows, goes lighter, his licks are running up the length of you, between your lips and on top of your twitching bud, over and over, methodical, and you can’t stop shaking.

Somehow through the haze of pleasure you manage to speak, calling out to him, “Mi-Mickey, oh my fucking God-”

He lifts his mouth, you expect him to give you a breather or to give some pithy response that will turn you on further and make you leak more, but instead his hands are on your hips, he tilts them up and his tongue dives lower. His tongue circles over your asshole, and you actually sob, shocked and broken from the sudden stab of ecstasy that hits your gut, your hand leaving his hair, instead gripping at the sheets. You can’t stop from squirming, which makes his job harder, you hear something that sounds akin to a mildly annoyed growl.

One of his hands lifts off your hip, and he lands a firm smack on your ass as he grits out, “Stop squirming so much babe, let me make you feel good.”

He gets back to it and your head is thrown back against the pillows, you try, you really do, but his tongue flicks just so and your body bucks. He instead flips you over onto your stomach roughly manhandling you, one hand pulling your hips up, and he dives back in tongue first. He eats your ass with passionate fervour, whenever you buck too much he reminds you to behave with another hit to your ass cheek. His hand that wasn’t on your hip slides under, and he circles your clit with fast and clever fingers.

The sharp slaps of pain and combined with him being tongue deep in your ass and rubbing your clit makes you cum embarrassingly fast yet again and harder still, legs trembling so much you almost fall on your face, with an ample gush onto his chin while sobbing his name into the pillow.

When you stopped shaking he came up, another smack to your ass, his chest to your back as he leans down and praises right in your ear, “Oh good fucking girl.”

You start to babble out into the damp pillowcase, “Mi-Mickey, ‘lease, fuck me, need you-”

He hums, and you hear his belt open, finally getting his pants open, he inhales sharply in relief, the pressure easing from him opening his pants. The rest of his clothes are discarded, and he pauses. His hand on your sore ass, right on the spot he kept hitting over and over, his thumb traces down, spreading your lips, over your hole, and he sighs, “I have been dying to get inside this cunt.”

He lines up, he pushes his hips forward and sinks deep inside you, in one swift and smooth motion. The moan you share is like music, beautiful, melodic, passionate collaboration. His hand goes into your hair, he fucks you like that, face down ass up, he starts a quick pace initially, rough, needy and you love it. His body is covering yours as he breathes into your ear, “You feel incredible, oh my God-” His head tips back with a loud moan, he drives into you over and over, “-fucking stunning too, you are so gorgeous.”

It has been entirely too long since you’ve been fucked in any position other than missionary. The sensation, his weight on your back, the sound of skin on skin, his breath in your ear, it’s fucking perfection. You rock back with him, meet him in the middle, you were giving back, showing just how desperately you want him in kind makes Mickey let out this sound, caught between a groan and something more possessive, not explicitly words, but it hits you low in your gut.

He starts to slow down, takes a little more time, and you are moaning louder and louder, you are so worked up, so sensitive, you feel alive and electric. On one level it feels like you can feel every ridge and vein of him and on another like you can’t determine up from down, completely drunk on feeling.

You completely lose track of how many times you get off that night, the pace will switch on a whim, from hard pounding and him calling you every name in the book to more easy and sensual, a writhing joint movement instead of an aggressive pounding.

You ride him, grind one out on top of him while he cradles your breasts, thumbs passing over your nipples as he calls you a beautiful fucked out angel.

He fucks you spooning, hand around you and between your thighs, strumming your clit with one hand, the other locked on your throat as he is fucking in and out.

The only thing that seems to make it stop is you literally sobbing for it to. Your cheeks are wet, you are babbling his name and the word stop, you have one leg over his shoulder and the other is pinned down near your knee by him. His stamina was impressive, he’d already cum once when you were riding him, had filled you up, but instead of that stopping it, he just flipped you over, still hard, and kept fucking going, his own cum providing even more lube.

That was a while ago, you could tell that he was near again, sweat down the side of his face, movements of his hips sloppy, panting your name over and over. You know you can’t again, you are too fried, too overstimulated and finally, just as the soreness is starting to teeter on the other side of being more unpleasant and painful than pleasurable he holds deep and cums again.

You feel totally boneless, your arms feel heavy as you wrap them around him loosely, his head dips down and rests on your shoulder, you are just trying to catch your breath.

He gets his back faster than you.

He is still inside of you when he comes back up, fingers push some of your hair aside as he looks down into your eyes. Your chest is still rising and falling rapidly as he confesses, for what must be the third time tonight, telling you, “I fucking care about you.”

A strong belief that is nothing but the truth hits, “You deserve way better than him, I wish I could have met you sooner so you could have had those years back of someone who actually gives a shit about you instead of that asshole.”

You want this, want him, damned what that says about you or your morals, you don’t care as you tell him, “Fuck that selfish cunt, forget about him, let’s just make up for lost time.”

He has every intention of doing just that.

#Mickey Altieri x reader #Ghostface x reader #Slasher x reader #BHF writing #HERE IT IS #ENJOY

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slutouttanowhere · 6 months ago

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WIP Week

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Black!reader

Warnings: use of the word “cunt.” Oral(m) &(f) receiving.

a/n: welp it’s about that time again isn’t it? I’ve found an unfinished smut/fic burried under piles of google docs, and since I’m never gonna finish it I decided to share with you all and show you what could have been. Recently a lot of these wips have been Drew one shots to be honest because I just have sooo many ideas flowing for him all the time I hop around a lot. Anywho, I hope you all can still enjoy this in some shape or form. *I did not design the divider down below* Follow me, and check out my pinned post for more.

Drew teaches you how to grip it.

“Please.” You begged, since Sheamus adorned Drew with his family heirlooms, he’s been bringing it to the ring with him ever since. Angela, his large, long, shining silver sword. The way he’d stalk down to the ring with it gripped in his big hands, you’d stand at the apron, and watch him adoringly as he stands center ring with Angela held high above his head.

“For the tenth time, no. I am not letting you swing the sword, it’s too dangerous, and you’re too small to hold it properly.” He said sternly, a pensive expression on his face; he knew how adorable you’d look with such a large weapon, but he didn’t want to take the chance.

You blew a raspberry, “buzzkill.” You pouted and fell back onto him on the sofa, your hair flopping in his face. Drew rolled his eyes. He was reading but your little stunt knocked it out of his book out of his hands. He knew you were only bugging him about it so much today because you became obscenely obnoxious when you were bored. Hunter had given you two a plethora of off days, but as Drew puts it, you’re a ‘busy body.’ He had to come up with new, interesting ways to entertain you, or else you would become like this. He was used to your childlike behavior, your goofiness is one of the things that attracted him to you. From far away your laughter could be heard, and that gorgeous smile of yours would light up a room. He embraced your popularity, and learned to share you with your co-workers as you were everyone’s best friend.

“If I show you how to swing the bloody sword will you stop nagging?” He sighed finally caving, his hands held onto your thighs as he pulled you onto his lap. The grin on your face grew, you knew you’d get your way eventually. He could never resist the sad face, and pouty lips.

“Really? Like right now?” You rapped your arms around your shoulders, a look of adoration passed over his face. He couldn’t fight his own smile, he tapped your skin with his hands playfully.

“Yes really. Now, to the garage!” Drew shouted, without hesitation you hopped up, and ran off.

The garage wasn’t super huge, but it was big enough to swing a sword, that’s all that really mattered. Drew held onto the hilt with a firm grip, standing in just his jeans, and socks, he grinned at the look on your face. A mix of excitement, and amazement rolled into one. It’s not like you haven’t seen it before, but that doesn’t make it any less of a spectacle. Drew approached you, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he began to circle you playfully. His eyes traveled up and down your curvy body. By the time his eyes got to your breast, he just then realized you weren’t wearing a bra underneath his t-shirt. He swallowed, ‘focus Drew, if you don’t give her what she wants right now, she’ll never let it go.’ He thought to himself. “So you wanna learn sword wielding aye?” His accent slipping into a heavier tone, he spoke slowly, and you hung onto his every word. Captivated by Drew, as usual.

“Well darlin, the first thing you must learn…is how to grip it.” He came to a halt directly behind you, your eyes closed as you let Drew’s immersive presence engulf you. His fingers pulled your hair back behind your shoulder, pressing his lips to your ear as he spoke; his breath tickled you. “Are you gonna be a good girl, and listen to all my instructions?”

You shook your head vigorously, “yes Sir.” You felt his warm soft lips press to the shell of your ear

He brought his arms around you carefully, he held the sword in one hand, and with the other he grasped onto your wrist. “This end of the sword is called the hilt, it is important you hold onto it with a firm grasp.” You weren't sure if he was touching you like this on purpose, or if Drew really is that gentle. Probably a bit of both. He took your hand and replaced it where he was, he held onto you to make sure you wouldn’t accidentally drop it. “Squeeze me tighter, hmm, just like that.” He purred, then pressed himself against you closer, naturally your body leaned into him, and caused you to forget all about the sword. “That’s it, good girl.” He hummed directly into your ear, his beard tickled your skin, and he followed that with a kiss. You bit your lip trying to suppress the moan that threatened to leave your lips when you felt your nipples tighten.

“Now take this hand, and place it here.” He took your other hand and placed it a little lower than the other. Drew stood behind you, both his arms wrapped around yours, and his hands still ghosting your hands. No longer interested in this medieval weapon, you grind your ass against him.

There was a long pause, for a moment you wondered if he was still there, so you turned your head. You barely got a chance to turn before Drew’s large hand grabbed you by the back of the head, “did I say you could move?” His voice now gruff, and his breathing a little ragged. Your back straightened up, not daring to make one move, his fingers caressed your bare thighs. He took his time making his way up to your hips, when he didn’t feel the cotton fabric that would be your underwear, he chuckled deeply. “No bra…no panties, well you’re in for a world of trouble princess.” He held onto you, his hands coming around the front of you to cup your breast underneath your shirt. His lips pressed to your neck, for a second your grip loosened on the hilt, “you better not drop that sword.” He warned through kisses, his fingers pinched, and tugged on your nipples.

“Ah, fuck.” You hissed through your teeth, that stinging pain traveled between your thighs stirring an aching sensation in your core. He slid his fingers down your soft tummy, your hips moved in circles in anticipation; with his unoccupied hand he quickly undid his jeans, and pressed your ass against him.

“You see what you do to me sweetheart, now how are we going to fix this little problem of mine?” He pushed his fingers between your pillow like thighs drawing another whimper out of you.

“I’ve got three holes for a reason Drew, pick one.” You answered eagerly, he chuckled darkly.

“Oh dear, I think you just signed up for a promise you can’t keep.”

“Try me.” You dared, which you knew was a bad choice, but Drew’s smart mouth had a way of rubbing off on you.

“She’s bold today! Just because you’ve held that sword doesn’t make you battle ready, princess. Since you’ve got so much to say, how about we shut you up, because I’m about to fill your throat full of cock, and cum.” He growled out, taking the sword from your hands, and carefully putting it back in its place, then he turned to you. Of course you were standing there looking all wide eyed and innocent as if you didn’t just threaten a wild jungle cat. He pointed towards the garage door that led back into the house, “walk.” Without hesitation you walked back into the house, you took a seat back on the sofa.

Drew came in behind you, “look at you getting comfortable, you know what?” He paused his words coming to stand directly in front of where you sat on the couch, your thighs crossed one over the other. “Actually you’re gonna need that sweetheart, because you’re gonna be in one position for a long time.” As he spoke he pulled his jeans down the rest of the way, and kicked them aside now only standing in his boxer briefs. The man was a sight to behold, he was perfect; tall, thick with muscles, and a handsome face that made you weak in the knees.

With his finger he beckoned you forward with his index finger, “c’mon closer princess, that’s right to the arm of the sofa.” Slowly you crawled to the edge, and propped yourself up on the arm of the couch. Drew met you halfway, one hand gripping himself over the cotton of his underwear, and the other reached out to pat you on the head. You kept your eyes on the hardened erection pressing against his boxers, your tongue darted out to wet your lips.

“Damn, it’s been a while since your cock has been in my mouth.” You moaned out, your hands already reaching for him, and hooking around the elastic waist.

Drew chuckled darkly as he watched your eyes light with desire, you pulled the large tee shirt over your head and tossed it aside. Your naked body on full display, his hands cupped your full breast, and let the weight of them in his palms. His thumbs caressing your nipples, the ghost-like touch was all you needed for them to become painfully tight. “Fuck I need those big tits of yours in my mouth.” Drew groaned, suddenly changing his mind he came to sit next to you, and wrapped one arm around your waist. He slouched down into the couch a little to meet you eye, to breast. His tongue flicked your small brown bud, then sucked it deeply into his mouth.

His gaze found yours as he moved on to the next one showing it the same attention. He switched back and forth between both before he stuffed his face between your cleavage, and inhaled your scent. He peppered kisses across your skin one last time before he let you go so you could readjust. You sat on your knees, reached into his underwear, and grasped his erection. He felt warm in your hands, you pumped him once, twice, then three times. Pre cum dropped from his tip, you tilted your head back to Drew, and planted a kiss on his lips before you swiped his mushroom tip with your tongue. A soft moan fell from his lips, his hand gingerly sliding up, and down your back.

You lowered half your body onto his lap, his muscular thighs becoming your pillow, and your ass perched up in the air. His fingers came to rest on your ass as you slowly slid him into your mouth, he slid his fingers over your slick cunt. His thumb rubbed circles around your clit, with his free hand he held your hair in his hand to keep it out of your eyes. You took him as deep into your throat as your anatomy would allow. The tip of him hit your uvula causing you to gag, but that didn’t stop you. You kept swallowing him till tears sprung from your eyes, “always so fucking greedy for my cock huh?” Drew pushed one finger into you, and then a second. You tightened around him, the hill of his hand pressing against your clit causing you to throb deliciously, and ultimately distracting you.

Finally pulling your lips away from him, you turned your head up to Drew, who’s eyes were lidded. Overtaken by lust he couldn’t be bothered with the saying, or doing anything properly. “Shit that feels so good, can I cum please?” You begged out of breath, wordlessly he pulled away from you, and at first thought you did something wrong. He got up, and pulled you with him. He bent you over the arm of the couch, his hands grasping your booty cheeks in both hands and spread you wide.

#drew mcintyre #drew mcintyre oneshot #drew mcintyre x reader #black!reader #reader insert #writing wip #—tokio #wip week

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tiredly101 · 2 years ago

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Sinner’s Ways

Pairing: Wally Darling x Oracle fallen angel!Male reader

Summary: An angel is what you were drawn as but as soon as you discovered the truth about the fact that you were a cartoon character you became a fallen angel before Wally did.

Illustrated Au, maybe fallen angel au?, Picture is not mine and is ver bad quality too

M/n always knew deep down that his neighborhood, Welcome Home, wasn't like others. He learned this with the fact that his visions where always trying to show him something that wasn’t clear, it was blurry , as if the destiny had decided to take the day off. He didn’t like it, he normally saw very normal stuff that he could have guessed without any trouble but today was different. Everything was different.

M/n was walking with Wally, chatting about nothing and everything at the same time when his eyes went white. Wally would have thought nothing of it but when he saw M/n fall on the ground shaking, skin turning paler, cold sweating and how his beautiful white wings turned from their usual soft shade to one completely black and his halo. His halo broke right in front of Wally’s eyes, the beautiful golden halo was now a white halo whose broken pieces were still there, almost as if they were a glitch.

M/n opens his eyes seeing a screen looking back at him, a little kid was staring through the tv but when he tried to move a pen started to control his movements, it made him talk, made him dance, made him fly, all for that little kid. He was then in a piece of paper while a man drew his usual smile on his face while his shocked eyes were being erased by another to be replaced with a more calm expression.

“There, he is the most pretty cartoon character I have drawn in a while,” said a man while cheering to himself, M/n tried to move but he was stuck in that position. Holding a bouquet of flowers while smiling softly and looking calm, he wanted to cry or scream but he couldn’t.

M/n’s eyes turned back to normal and he was scared. He didn’t understand what he saw and wanted a way out, Wally poked at him worryingly but all M/n saw was a pair of horns and a sharp red tail floating over Wally’s head, instead of those beautiful black eyes of his they were in a bright red with a slit and in red letters were the words written “Yours truly, your demon” which left M/n speechless while trying to understand what was happening. Home’s eyes seemed to stare directly at him instead of around the neighborhood, they were concentrating as if trying to make him forget what he saw.

“I… I need to go,” said M/n while struggling to get up and before Wally could help him up or even ask what happened M/n started running towards the woods. He didn’t have any location but the wind was knocked out of his lungs when he saw it right there clear as day a division. A division where the colors of Welcome Home where mixed with the colors of the world where he saw the man draw him.

Edit: So I know I promised Part 2 but I have decided that this is a very good one shot sooo if I ever do a part two I will let you know!

Tag list:

@ghosteezofvispast

#welcome home #wally darling x male reader #wally darling x reader #Tiredly Jackie writes

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eddiemxnsonlvr · 1 year ago

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Sooo here’s the Keegan smut 😻

Btw I got the very first bit from someone on tiktok that does ai’s based off of tiktok sounds because I didn’t know how to start it 😭

SUNGLASSES AND KISSES

Keegan Russ x fem! Reader

Warnings: smut!!, some fluff, oral (fem receiving), p in v, slight breeding kink, keegan being very in love with reader 😼, PRAISE PRAISE PRAISE

(No y/n used)

MINORS DNI ⚠️

—————————————-

You and Keegan were hanging out like you normally do after missions. He was messing around with sunglasses and you had just left him to it, turning your back for a second to grab something off the table when you heard his voice from behind you.

"you know the best part about wearing sunglasses is?"

"what?" you replied, turning around to see him bent over staring at your ass.

"no one can see what you're looking at" Keegan spoke with a giggle, biting his lip playfully. (I meant this part only btw)

“Keegan I swear to god!” you laugh.

He snickered softly, tossing the sunglasses into your face and lightly swatting your ass.

"got you!" he said, walking back over to you with a sly expression on his face.

You laugh and smack his shoulder lightly.

He grinned as he caught your hit and wrapped his arms around your waist. He leaned in close, whispering in your ear.

"I thought you liked it when I was bold" he teased, pushing his hips into yours playfully.

You giggle, “I do”

He kissed the side of your neck, his lips grazing your skin as he nipped lightly. His hands ran up and down your back, pulling you into him.

"You know I can never resist you like this" he murmured in your ear, his voice breathy as his mouth moved closer to your ear.

"you're just too damn irresistible" he whispered, brushing his lips against your neck again.

You giggle.

He kissed your neck again, this time leaving his lips pressed against your skin as he drew his head back slightly. He let out a soft groan as he nipped at your neck again, his eyes closing as he licked the spot he had bit at, and you whimper.

"you know, I think I'm addicted to you" he said in between breaths, nuzzling against your neck and rubbing his cheek against your skin.

“Yeah?” You say with a grin.

He kissed down your neck, trailing his way down to your collarbone. His hands traced your sides before coming to a stop at your hips, squeezing them and pulling you closer.

"Yeah." he whispered. "You're like my drug, I can't get enough of you."

As he finished speaking, he nuzzled against your neck again and bit at your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to lick it.

“fuckin’ hell” you moan.

Keegan groaned softly, slowly pulling his head back. He pushed his hips against yours again, his eyes falling shut as he nuzzled up against your neck.

"I know you want me as bad as I want you." he said, kissing your jaw.

You nod eagerly.

He nipped at your neck, sucking gently as he bit at your skin. His hands wandered upwards, moving to your face as he tilted your head to the side.

"show me how much you want me" he whispered, looking into your eyes.

His hands trailed to your shoulders, squeezing gently as he brought his lips towards yours.

“How?” you whine.

He pressed his body against yours, rubbing his hips against yours to get closer. His lips hovered close to yours like he was deciding whether or not to kiss you. His right hand slipped up your back, his thumb brushing against your neck.

"Tell me" he whispered. "tell me how bad you want me to fuck you."

“Fuck,” you moan. “Need you so bad Keegan. Please. Need it.”

“Good girl.” He says with a smirk and presses his lips to yours as you put your hands in his hair. “Fuck you’re so hot.” He groans when you pull at his hair.

“Shit, Keegan.. I need you so bad.” You moan pulling at his shirt.

“Fuck baby.” He groans and picks you up and wraps your legs around his waist and begins walking to the bed. “I love you.” You moan as he lays you down.

“I love you too baby,” He groans as he pushes your dress up to bunch up on your waist, to reveal your panties. “So fuckin’ hot.”

You whine and buck your hips up, “Patience baby.” He grins then slowly pulls your underwear down and off you.

“Please Keegan!” You whine.

“Fuck look at you honey,” he groans and looks at your glistening cunt and uses his thumb to look at your clit. “fuckin’ soaking already.”

“Need you,” You whine then cry out as he places his mouth on your clit. “Fuck.” You moan as he begins eating you out like a starved man. (Lawddd)

“Tastes so fucking good,” he moans against your cunt, “so fuckin’ wet f’ me.” He then inserts two fingers into you.

You moan out as he begins fucking you with his fingers as he sloppily sucks your clit. “So fucking pretty baby.” He moans as he bucks his hips against the bed while looking up at you with half lidded eyes.

“Keegan,” you moan and pull at his hair pushing his mouth closer to your cunt.

“So needy,” he smirks and begins sucking harder at your clit.

You buck your hips up against his face as he quickens his fingers, “Shit- ’m gonna come.” You moan.

“C’mon pretty girl,” he sucks harder, “come f’ me.”

You then clench your thighs around his head as you come with a moan your eyes rolling back. As you come he continues sucking your clit to help you ride down your orgasm. “Fuck you look so pretty when you come.” He moans.

“Please fuck me Keegan,” you whine as you look at him, “need your cock so bad.”

He groans at that and quickly pulls off his shirt and pants, “I can never say no to you, can I?”

You sit up with a fucked out smirk and palm him through his boxers, “I didn’t think you wanted to.” He Bucks his hips against your hand as you touch him.

“I- fuck,” he whimpers.

You grin and pull away, as you take off your dress you look at him with a smirk.

“Shit,” he groans under his breath as he sees your breasts. “So fucking pretty.”

You grin and pull down his boxers, “fuck me.”

He groans pulling off his boxers and quickly pushes you down on the bed and grabs your thighs pushing them closer to your chest, “you don’t even know what you do to me.”

You moan as he rubs the tip of his cock against your slit, “I- fuck!”

He slowly begins pushing himself into you as he moans, “so fucking tight,” he whimpers as he bottoms out, “it’s like this pussy was made f’ me.”

You whine when he stops moving, “please keegan- fuck.”

He moans then pulls his hips back and slams into you, he looks down and groans at the sight of your connecting bodies “fuck! So fucking perfect f’ me,” he whimpers and begins thrusting into you.

You moan and pull his face towards you and kiss him, “please Keegan, need more” you whine between kisses.

He moans against your lips and quickens his pace as he puts his thumb on your clit, “so fucking good,” he groans and rubs circles on your clit with his thumb, “pussy sucks me in so well.”

(I just want y’all to know I’m a virgin so I’m just goin off of what I’ve read and p*rn 🙂)

You moan as you wrap your thighs around his waist, “I love you,” you whine and kiss his neck, “you fuck me so good.”

He moans and begins moving his thumb faster as he quickens his pace, “i love you too, my pretty girl.” He moves his head down and sucks on your nipple, “my gorgeous girl, look at you taken my cock so well.”

You moan as you tangle your hand in his hair, your legs shaking from pleasure. “please, ‘m so close.”

“Fuck baby,” he groans and moves his hips faster, “come f’ me.”

You come with a loud cry as your legs shake, “shit good girl,” he moans as his thrusts begin to get sloppier, “‘m gonna gonna come in this pretty pussy. Gonna fill you with my babies, hm? Gonna make you all swollen and filled up.” He whimpers.

“Need your come Keegan,” You moan as you get closer to coming again. “Need you to fill me up.”

“shit shit shit” He comes with a whimper as he bites your shoulder, and you cry out as you reach your third release of the night while he fucks his come into you.

“Did so good f’ me.” He say softly as he kisses the bite mark on your shoulder and slowly pulls out. “You were so good.”

You whine out of overstimulation as he pulls out of you, and look at him with half lidded eyes, “love you.” You say quietly as you look at him with a fucked out look.

“My pretty girl,” he smiles and picks you up bring you to the bathroom, “let’s get you cleaned up hm?”

You nod tiredly as you put your face against his neck.

“I really wore my pretty girl out didnt I?” He smirks as he places you on the bathroom counter and grabs a washcloth and wets it.

“I love you,” you smile.

“I love you too baby.” He smiles softly and begins carefully wiping up the mess between your legs. (AFTER CARE YALL)

“Let’s get you into a bath, yeah?” When you nod in agreement, he smiles and walks over to the bathtub turning the faucet on and making sure it isn’t too hot.

“I’m so glad I’m getting married to you.” You giggle as you watch him then look at the engagement ring on your finger. (YIPPEE)

“I wouldn’t pick anyone else,” he smiles and kisses your forehead when he gets back in front of you. “My perfect girl.” He smiles then picks you up putting you in the bath, “I love you.”

You smile at him as he gets in the bath behind you.

“I love you too.”

(THE END, SORRY IF ITS BAD I’VE NEVER WRITTEN SMUT BEFORE 😃👍)

@hesnotyourslol HERE YOU GO ML

Lmk if this is good and maybe I’ll write more 😍

#keegan smut #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ smut #cod mw2 #cod smut

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nitunio · 7 months ago

Note

tsukumo ryo for the character ask meme :3

Thanks for the askkkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and when i thought that i wont see this name in my ask box.....

Ryo Tsukumo (by unpopular but much appreciated demand)

BINGOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

joking JOKING

BINGOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

In all honesty. When I first watched Third Beat I was so jawdropped by him and what he's doing and it made me irrationally scared to the point where I forgot about taking screenshots (i usually do so for future reference). and a month after I still caught myself thinking back to i7 because to me it was just another anime but HE was one of the characters that made me stay. He made me want to know what happens next So Much that I spent hours on wikis and websites searching more info on how to access more stories besides the anime. I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT HIM

and when I continued thinking back to him I found myself with the following thoughts: "evil. so hot." and "wow. he's like. proper disgusting. im intrigued!!!!" and by lords. when i first drew him on emotion it felt like an electricity jolt to my brain. I was never the same since. and I went back to rewatch Third Beat. and I read third part and fourth part and.

It's always a stage play and he's performing for everyone. If nobody's paying attention to him, he will point all lights to himself. But not in that way, pay attention in a different way. Love him, like him... If nobody likes him, then everybody shouldn't. If he is bad, then he should be the worst. If he wants something, he will get it. There are so many cracks within his fragile ego facade. And the only ones for him, the only ones he could peel this wrapping for, even if for a bit, are Riku and Momo. (and ZOOL in pt6)

I project onto him and make many headcanons because I can relate to a lot of his characteristics that CAN BE VERY MUCH MISSED BY THE AUDIENCE WITH HOW QUICK AND SUBTLE THEY ARE. or maybe im just catching myself in the "he's just like me fr" and starting to make things up You never really know with this sort of stuff.

There are two Ryous for me -- the bastard evil guy I want to impale and the Canonly Childhood Traumatised and coping with it in the worst ways possible (which is a recurring theme for characters in i7). I do feel like he gets a lot of hate because people (rightfully so) don't wish to delve deeper into his character because he serves as a good plot device even in his "irredeemably evil" state. I think that another layer of "sinister" gets placed on top considering that He Can Get Worse. it's always possible with the kinds of situations that a lack of regulation and help can bring and He Did Get Worse (ex: balcony scene)

The bastard evil guy is a good flavour of Ryou too because of the situations he can put others in. He's silly, unpredictable, evil, remorseless, sadistic, and absolutely unhinged. hes probably good in bed because of that but please disregard this whole sentence right now. everyone else is wrong and right about him because of how little we get of his screentime that is really about himself but THERE IS SOOO MUCH SO MUCH.

re: aesthetic, gender, design. awooga. 2/3 of my fave colours (orangeish yellow and purple), fave hairstyle (middle part), fave eyes (dead inside), fave frame (look at his back!) I WANT TO STEAL HIS GENDER. I LOVE THE murderous aesthetic I love the playhouse wife aesthetic i love the "i want to be the spoiled child" thing hes got going on . i love his outfits i love his expressions i love his moves i love HIS DESIGN. I FUCK WITH IT SO HARD PLATONICALLY WJAT AM I SAYING AT THIS POINT

Anyways. that was like. a fraction of my thoughts i just scrolled back up and realised ive been torturing you with my elder-scroll worth of text wall

#nitunio.txt #nitu i7 ramble #ryo tsukumo #good lord #ask games #im not reading all that back what i wrote is what i wrote #if i wrote something bad assume i didnt write it #i enjoy him

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loopeyfluff · 10 months ago

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OHHHH MEEE FRIEIKCING GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

YOU!!! YOU DID IT!!! YOU CAPTURED THE SCENE SO WELLL WAHGGHAHA I LOVE THAT SCENE SO MUCH AND U DID IT SOOOO MUCH JUSTICE GAHHH!!! You used screentones sooo well in every panel, it really enhanced the look of the whole thing so much!!! I especially love how the screen tones look in page 4,,, arueghghe. I know we collectively bemoaned over how hard it was to adapt fics, but when Gyro writes

"Warm and content"

I FEEL THAT EXPRESsED SO CLEARLY AND SO WELL THAT IT STRIKES MY SOUL WITH ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD. AND ALSO I CAN FEEL HOW MUCH ZORO LVOVES LUFFY IN THIS PANEL CAUSE ITS FROM HIS POV. LIKE. OMFG LUFFY LOOKS POSITIVELY DREAMY!!!

nono Im getting ahead of myself let me go in order u _ u

first of all, brilliant open. when trying to adapt a scene, its sooo hard sometimes to pick where to start drawing!! cause like,,, omg i wanna draw this entire scene but i wud literally die... I think u not only chose a great part to start this whole comic off with, but the whole mystique behind the line

“I never ask you for anything, you know,” he says, not taking his eyes off the barren valley below. It’s easier that way.

is conveyed really well with how u paneled zoro's eyes outta sight! (pretty ironic with how zoros eyes are the only things described XD) << but srsly, artistically what a great decision >:3c AND ALSO you're so good at drawing luffy being the most unserious goofy lil guy ever even in the most serious of situations and I'm so glad that u never stop delivering thanku sm OTL

I wud love to squish his cheeks he looks so stupid!!!!

I actually rlly like how u layout the second panel too, with how u position the speechbubbles? IDK I get really nervous sometimes with putting speech bubbles in places cause I hate covering things up and also gahhh you also need to consider the best way to position things so people read em in orderrr,,, but u did a real gud job there, all that important action is definitely very visible in frame >:) GET SMACKED

oh and yeah, to save time so this doesnt become 2 monstrous of a cute lil adaption project, ofc ya gotta cut out some small tid bits like luffy humming thoughtfully or him snickering against zoro's palm, but all of that personality of goofy luffy is translated so well with,,, how goofy loofy u draw him XD So what im sayin is, i think u were real efficient and thoughtful with how you adapted these things :)))

and GAHHH THE ATMOSPHERE CHANGE !!! AND THE WAY U DREW ZOROS HAND LOWERING TO HIS LAP HERE, IT LOOKS SO GENTLE LIKE HES CARESSING LUFFYS FACE TOO. GAHHHH!!! I just, I ADORE THE FRAMING OF THOSE 3 PAGES!!! it really feels like its just the two of them in this vast world, nothing else to disturb em. its very calming.

Luffy stills, anyway, though—because of course he understands. And when Zoro lowers his hands to his lap, Luffy has chewed and swallowed, quieted to listen. Content to lean against his shoulder in the sunshine, staring out at the horizon to wait while Zoro straightens out the pieces of what he wants to say into something like order. Because even though they can talk without speaking, sometimes the important things need to be said out loud—made just a little more real.

Its true, that these types of lengthy paragraph descriptions cant be translated over to an art adaption without losing the explanations behind it all, but the way you captured the atmosphere of it all, is really, really breathtaking.

AHAHHAHA THE OUR DREAMS AT DUSK HAPPY MEMORY BUBBLES!!!!! Thats actually such a clever way to incorporate them into the fic I ADORE how you used them here!!! GAHHH

Zoro leans back on his palms—curls his fingers in the grass and imagines it’s Sunny’s deck against his skin. For a moment, he misses home.

IM ACTUALLY FREAKING OUTTT WAHHH THATS SOOOO CLEVER!!! I CANT THINK OF A BETTER WAY YOU COULDVE ADAPTED THIS WOWOWOWWW!!! UHFDSUHFGSDFSADFRASDFGSDFSDUHFSD IM GOING TO GO EXPLODE INTO A BAJILLION HAPPY BUBBLES RN GAHHHH

my heart actually physically clenched- and it still clenches every time i read over pages 3 and 4,,, i think i had to put down my phone for a bit and like,,,, cover my mouth with a hand cause it was just too cute for my soul,,, omfg,,,,, ahahah u trlly did just dedicate a whole page FULL of panels, methodically showing luffy falling back and stretching zoro into a real goofy smile XD I love how you paced this, because page 4 hits so much harder with all that gentle set up!! Seeing luffy lay all cutely on zoros lap,,,

and Zoro can’t help it—he snorts out a tender kind of laugh

Yeah I wouldnt be able to help it either man!!!

Anyways, its actually really interesting to see how you paced this comic because like, its a great adaption of course!! BRILLIANT!!! but it works sooo well as a stand alone comic too, even if you havent read the source material. The line about luffy beaming isn't super emphasized in Gyro's writing, it's more of a one off comment backed up by all the other lines of luffy being cute in this scene. But the way you've paced it out, the reader has to really get HIT IN THE FACE by the energy friggin BLASTED OUT FROM HIS SUNSHINE BOY SMILE.

In the original fic, Gyro doesn't need to necessarily emphasize that cause we've been seeing how much zoro treasures luffy from all the way at the start of the fic!!! but I feel like just as a standalone comic, you establish just how precious luffy is from the impact of those panels on the fourth page. and this allows for the final heartbreaking lines that zoro says on the last page to really really stand out and hit just that much harder...

no notes here... this is a good zoro ^^^

And Luffy goes utterly still while Zoro breathes.

YO I SEE HOW THE SECOND PANEL DARKENS THERE. AHHHHHHH ATMOSPHERE CHANGE!!!! ahahah, but I would just like to stop again and say that oughghgh this comic is so so dreamy!!! I love the lil sparks that you put across all the panels on this page, it makes all the panels flow together even more smoothly. It like,,, quickens up the pace of reading I feel? I could draw an entire lil Sin Cos lookin ass chart with how well I feel you control the reading pace in this comic man. gahhh anyways this is a funny stupid exciting moment, FAST READ, and then we slow down the pace again as zoro finally expresses the words weighed on his chest...

QUICK SIDENOTE, the font u use for the LICK sfx conveys just how positively disgusting zoro is i love it. omfg.

osfsfjfajdsfsdfiaiwfjfsfsdksijisggfdsfdsgdfgie. i dont. i dont think i can convey how lovely i think the last page is in proper words. i just. im tearing up just looking at it. When I read that scene in Gyro's fic, my heart broke, and the fact that you've done such an amazing job of adapting it,,, MY HEART IS BURSTING WITH JOY!!! AND ITS NOT EVEN MY FIC XD!!!!

Amazing job man :))) you knocked it outta the park!!!! (seriously tho I think u've peaked with ur screentone usage in this comic cause woaawhhhh it looks so stunning,,,)

Fanart for a snippet of my most favorite heartbreaking moment from swordsmans's fic bone-breaker ospreys mate for life (rated E)

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parkitaco · 2 years ago

Note

isn't it so pretty to think there was some invisible string tying you to me for either elmax or byler

oooh omg ok i'm gonna cheat and do BOTH bc i've never written elmax before but this song also just has byler written all over it sooo

---

byler version

---

"Why did you ask, anyway?"

Mike blinks, rolling over and rubbing his eyes. "Huh?"

Will is lying on his back in the dark, staring up at the ceiling with a contemplative expression. His eyes flick to Mike's, just briefly, and he smiles a little. "Sorry, were you asleep?"

"I- yeah, it's the middle of the night, of course I was asleep."

"It's not even eleven-thirty."

"You know what I mean." Mike shoves his face into Will's side, flinging an arm across his torso and tugging him closer. "I'm tired. I biked all the way here in the dark."

"Yeah, to see me," Will says, sounding all too pleased with himself. "So here I am. Answer my question."

"Will, it's so late," Mike complains, voice muffled where it's pressed against Will's t-shirt.

"Eleven-thirty, Michael," Will repeats, unimpressed.

Mike groans, removing his face from Will's side in favor of glaring at him. "Okay, William. Why did I ask what?"

"If I wanted to be your friend."

Mike blinks down at him, propping himself up on one arm and watching Will's eyes trace over his face. "You want to know the reason why I asked a question when I was five years old?"

"Hey, you said it was the best thing you'd ever done! Don't act like you don't remember."

Through his groggy haze, Mike can't help but be a little endeared by the annoyed quirk of Will's eyebrows, the smirk resting faintly over his lips and the pillow creases on his skin. He dips down to kiss Will's forehead quickly, brushing a thumb over Will's jaw. "I told you," he murmurs, face hovering right over Will's. "I was all alone. You were alone too, so I just... asked."

"I couldn't have been the only one who was alone, though," Will presses. "Why me?"

Mike remembers that day so clearly. He'd spent the better part of the morning pouting and trying not to cry, secluded to a quiet corner of the classroom and wishing he didn't have to do this, that he could keep playing Uno in his basement with Nancy forever even if she was turning into a bit of a brat, lately, that he could be exempt from the ridiculous notion of hanging out with people his age, or whatever. He also remembers that all of those feelings were, ultimately, bullshit, because in reality, before Will Byers became a part of his life, Mike was terribly lonely.

So recess had come, and he'd decided he might as well take action. He'd scanned the playground, looking for people like him, people that were alone or that were wearing the same color as him or who just looked nice, even. He wasn't trying to be terribly picky. He'd seen at least five other lonely kids, sitting in the dirt or holed up on the slide or playing with their own toys in the corner. None of them seemed right. They were all too loud or too quiet or too annoying or too weird, even if Mike was and still is, in fact, weird.

Then he'd spotted the swings, and the boy on them, and when he'd tried to ration away why he couldn't go up at talk to him, tried to give in to his fear and stay quiet and lonely forever, he'd drawn a blank. He couldn't think of a reason why this boy - this boy in an old yellow t-shirt with a bowl cut like Mike's who was gazing at the clouds like they genuinely interested him - wouldn't be a good person to talk to.

So he'd gone up, and he'd been terrified, but he'd asked. And Will had said yes, and that had been that. Friends forever, or something along those lines, and somewhere in the ten years since Mike had fallen in love with him, and that too had been scary but when he tried to rationalize it, he once again drew a blank because - at the end of the day, it just made sense. Of course he would fall in love with Will. He had no reason not to.

"I... I guess it just made sense," Mike whispers now, meeting Will's eyes in the dark and quiet of his room. "I couldn't think of a reason not to."

Will smiles, brilliant in the night, and traces a finger over Mike's collarbone. "So it wasn't love at first sight, then?" he teases.

"Love at first sight isn't real," Mike says with conviction - his breakup with El had been proof of that. "But there was- a connection, I think. Like there was this- string, a bond or something, that drew me to you, and I chose to follow it. To tie the knot."

He expects Will to, like, laugh or mock his word choice or something, but Will is dead serious when he replies, "I'm glad you did."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I don't believe in love at first sight either, but I think that- it's just. Pretty, I guess. To think that there was something there, like you chose to take the first step and then from there on out we were just wrapped up in each other."

Mike grins, dipping down to kiss Will gently, warm and solid against him in the dark. "I'd happily stay wrapped up in you forever," he says softly, resting his forehead against Will's. "Even if you're an asshole who wakes me up in the middle of the night to ask about destiny."

"That is not what I asked I-"

"Will, I'm just teasing you."

Will huffs, breath warm against Mike's face, and Mike can't resist kissing him again, quickly. Will melts into it despite himself, arms around Mike's waist. "String, huh?" he murmurs.

"Sure. Or whatever else you want to call it."

"I like that just fine," Will decides, shoving his face into Mike's neck and relaxing into him, and they drift off to sleep, all wrapped up in each other.

---

elmax version

---

El doesn't know a lot about fate, or God or any premise of inevitability. She understands the concept well enough - Mike won't shut up about it, actually - he and Will tease each other about it when they think no one is listening, about swingsets and choices and unbreakable bonds, and El never really knows what exactly they're referring to but she knows it means that they love each other, and that they feel that this was inevitable.

She's not sure how she feels about that concept - it's fine for them, maybe, because they have this grand love story or whatever (at least according to Will, who rambles to her about Mike an awful lot, even if she kind of enjoys listening just because of the way his face lights up) but after having so many choices stripped away from her as a child, El isn't so sure she loves the idea of some cosmic deity deciding things for her. She'd rather take control of her own narrative.

That being said, she does get the part about being in love, and not wanting to ever conceive of a reality in which she isn't, and in that regard she supposes it's fine.

"Why do you think we became friends?" El asks now, rolling over on her bed and letting her head hang off the end, looking at Max upside-down.

Max glances up from the magazine she's been idly flipping through, a small smirk on her face. "We're not just friends, you know," she says, like she always does, and El scrunches her nose at her.

"You know what I mean," she retorts, which is true - unlike most people, Max always knows what El is trying to get across without having to hear all the words, always smiling and nodding along and supplying a word when El can't think of it, not trying to play dumb like Mike used to or interrupt like Will has a nasty habit of doing, or blink at her hesitantly and vaguely concerned like Joyce, well-meaning as she is, usually does.

Max flips the magazine shut, rising up on her elbows to kiss El's nose from her upside down vantage point, and El giggles. "We became friends because you're an incredible person and I liked you."

El widens her eyes. "We did not used to like each other, though."

"That's because you thought I was trying to steal Mike from you, which is laughable because I think I'd rather die than steal Mike from anyone, and had I been around before all that I would have told you to stop watching so many shitty soap operas."

El frowns. "I like soaps. They are romantic."

"They are, but they also instilled a weird jealousy complex in you that was totally unnecessary, so." Max smiles, tapping El's nose lightly with a finger. "Also, I never had a problem with you. I thought you were, like, ridiculously cool."

"Cool," El echoes, smiling. She likes that word - it feels strange in her mouth, but Max says it like a compliment and Max, as sarcastic and derisive as she can be, never says anything she doesn't mean. "I think you are cool, too."

"Thanks, babe."

Max goes back to her magazine, and El stares at the opposite wall as the blood rushes to her head, contemplating.

"Max?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you believe in fate?"

Max actively considers it for a moment - something she doesn't do for many people - before answering, "I don't know. I believe in connection, I think. Like a- spark, that you can have with someone, that, like, draws you to them, but I think we still have control over what we do with it. Does that make sense?"

El turns it over in her brain, lifting a hand and making the pencils spread across her desk float up into the air and bounce around the room. Max watches with the same vaguely awed look she always does, grinning. El grins back.

"'Spark'?" She asks, tapping one of the pencils against the ceiling. "Like a fire?"

Max laughs, sitting up properly and holding out a hand. El drops a pen into her hand, and she reaches out and begins tracing a pattern over El's exposed shoulder with it. "No, not literally," she says, hair tickling El's neck as she leans closer. "It's just, like. A pull. Like there's a string connecting you, and you can choose to pull them closer with it or just leave it how it is. Or cut it, I guess, but that's kind of bleak." She sits back, admiring her artwork on El's skin, and El cranes her neck to look. She can just barely make out a set of flowers and a small heart doodled there, and she smiles. Max would never claim to be an artist, but she certainly isn't a bad one.

"And you felt that? With me?" she asks, refocusing her gaze on her girlfriend.

"Sure I did," Max says, like it's obvious. "The first time I saw you you were wearing that black getup with the eyeshadow and everything and you looked so cool, and I don't believe in love at first sight or anything but I felt something, you know? And then you totally wrote me off which- hey, don't look at me like that, I didn't say I was mad!- you brushed me off and I was like wow, okay, she can take care of herself, great. And then I decided that I would win you over."

El smirks, flipping around and resting her arms on the edge of the mattress to gaze down at Max properly. "Win me over," she repeats.

"Convince you to love me," Max teases, and El reaches out a hand to brush a strand of hair out of her face.

"You are very easy to love," El murmurs as Max tilts her face to rest against her hand. "You do not think you are, but you say nice things without even trying."

"Yeah, well, 'course I'm nice to you," Max grumbles, kissing the side of El's palm. "I love you."

El grins teasingly. "I love you too. I am glad you did not choose to cut the string."

"Okay, it was a flawed metaphor, I get it-"

---

#hooo boy this took a while but i had so much fun!! i love writing elmax i decided #might have to write a full length fic for them someday #we shall see #byler #elumax

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askinkiskarma · 1 year ago

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I have been meaning to read your work (that i heard incredible things about) for sooo long and i'm so happy i got the chance to today!!! You are incredible, and i am so so blown away by your writing. But anyway, let me stop talking and get to my annotations, and i hope you will enjoy my ramblings hahahha

The dichotomy of emotion that swirled in your chest was a frustrating ache; a blight against the happiness of the occasion.

Umm one sentence in and the writing took me out, I need a second. Wow, if this is what the whole fic’s going to be like, I’m not surviving this

Neteyam had returned to the clan even more striking now that he had grown into a man, with the toned musculature of a warriors’ body that made even the most reserved of women think unchaste things. You were guilty of this too.

OH, I am definitely guilty of this

“Tsahìk, I think the yalnabark tincture is done brewing. I’ve taken it off the fire for now or the mixture might scorch at the bottom.” You called out assuredly. If there was one thing in life you knew you were good at, it was the art of healing.”

Almost like the next Tsa’hik???

“You are thinking so loudly I can hear your thoughts.” Mo’at hummed, her lips forming a wry grin.

No cause this is 100% me

His assessing gaze only lasted several moments before the comfortable warmth of his usual expression returned. His voice was benevolent when he spoke, “No one is going to die trying anything. We will go at your pace. I may push you at times, but if it gets too much, you are at every right to voice this to me.”

He’s so sweet, my heart :(((

You watched as he extended a hand out to you and you placed your hand in his to shake it, only to feel him raise the back of it to his lips instead in a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

I just melted, no biggie

“Seyla, look at me.” Neteyam implored you, and it was only the sheer tenderness in his tone that made you brave enough to obey. Your breath was stolen from you as you met his striking eyes and his expression was full of compassion, “You’re not weak for finding it difficult to end a life. Your calling is to heal, to restore life even in the direst of circumstances when all seems lost. There is great strength in that. Empathy is not weakness. You have a big heart and I don’t want to hear you call yourself weak ever again.”

He’s so so sweet and compassionate, I’m falling apart at the seams, I love him so much and you write him so so well, I will be gushing about your writing a lot, but wow, it is phenomenal, you are so so gifted, I am so intimidated hahahah

You were not even aware of it at first, that your heart no longer beat inside the confines of your chest. Then one day as Neteyam had graced you with another one of his magnetic smiles, you realised that your heart now beat in the hold of his hands. He had swindled it from you without you even knowing it and now it was too late to get it back.

Wow, that is so beautiful. I have no words, I am not eloquent enough to tell you how incredible you are, but I hope my poor attempts come across as intended, because I am so so impressed.

Um, how do you make Neteyam’s hot body sound so poetic, I ask you???

Great Mother, you loved him. You were in love with him.

Yes, I do. Yes, I am.

Neteyam drew back then, his face mere inches from yours. He nuzzled your nose lightly, “May I kiss you?”

We Stan a consent king

Several emotions flitted their way across Neteyam’s face; surprise, compassion and then satisfaction. With a wayward smirk, he purred, “Our daytimes may be spent apart now, but our evenings, well, we’ll have to fill those, won’t we? I’m looking forward to getting to know my betrothed in a more personal manner.”

uMM YESS PLSSS

Neteyam surged forward to kiss you again, more forcefully this time, and your head craned backward under the pleasurable plundering of his mouth. You moaned lightly and when a mistimed re-angling of your head caused your teeth to clack against his, you pulled away self-consciously with an apology, “Sorry, I’m new to this. Looks like you’re still going to have to teach me, karyu.”

…. oh, I’m sure he’s more than happy to teach you ;)

He punctuated his words with a searing, open-mouthed kiss to the column of your neck and the suction he applied there made your toes curl into the plush moss beneath you.

I say this all the time, but me and neteyam when???

incredible, spectacular, jaw-dropping writing, can't wait to read part 2!!!

"Show Me & Teach Me"

Neteyam Sully / female Omatikaya reader

Summary: You were an inconsequential member of the Omatikaya clan who had failed your rites of passage once already. You were born to heal, not hunt or fight. So, why had the tsahìk designated Neteyam of all people to take over your training? What business did the future olo’eyktan have mentoring you? But it was too late now. You should have known better than to fall in love with your mentor. You had known this day would come; the day when your success would mean losing his company. You should have clung on tighter to your heart while you still had it…

Content: Angst & fluff, pining, protective Neteyam, romance, Neteyam is your mentor, teacher-student chemistry, eventual happy ending, slight age-gap fetish, older man-younger woman.

Word count: 6.5k

Notes: This is my first ever Tumblr fic post! I've posted previously on AO3, Wattpad and FF.net, but I discovered this wonderful fandom on Tumblr recently and you've inspired me! Shout out to these bloggers whose work and writing I've been avidly browsing recently - @cinetrix, @andraga12, @pandoraslxna, @lanasblood and @draiochtwrites Special thanks to @cinetrix for her fabulous Neteyam renders. SO. BLOODY. GORGEOUS. This is also my first attempt at a Neteyam/Reader style of writing, so I hope I've done it justice. I personally don't like the usage of 'Y/N', so the reader's name in this is Seyla. The name is not used often, but there are a few points where it has been used for stylistic/emotional effect in the dialogue. Cross-posted also on AO3 - Show Me & Teach Me Other works available - VividInk AO3

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

The dichotomy of emotion that swirled in your chest was a frustrating ache; a blight against the happiness of the occasion. Today was a happy day, and yet the unwelcome despondency you felt stubbornly insisted on battling with your elation at having finally completed your rites of passage. You had completed Iknimaya to tame your own ikran last week, and yesterday you had completed your uniltaron (dream hunt).

You were officially a woman now, born again as one of the Omatikaya, and tonight the entire clan was celebrating you and your other successful peers. Your peers who are all a few years younger than you are… The pessimistic part of your brain unhelpfully supplied.

The swallow of saliva down your throat was tight at the thought and you mentally attempted to bat away the negativity. So what if you were a late bloomer? What mattered was that you had succeeded now, and you had one person in particular to thank for that.

Neteyam…

His name breathed like a soothing balm over your fraught mind, but before your thoughts could carry you further away from the jovial festivity that surrounded you, the call of your name jolted you from your contemplation.

“Seyla! Come and join us! Tonight isn’t for sitting, it’s for dancing!”

Twisting your torso where you were seated to meet the mirthful eyes of another girl across the bonfire, you gave her a small grin in response and shook your head. Nope, you were not much of a dancer. You were skilled with your hands; at weaving; at beading, and at healing – especially healing -, but the rest of you was as uncoordinated as they came. This was one of the reasons it had taken you longer than most to achieve your rites.

You raised your voice to ensure it would carry over the percussion drumbeats of the music and the crackle and spit of the fire, “No thanks! You go on, Pania! I can’t dance, and I’m happy being merry over here with my drink!” The vessel of bittersweet alcohol in your hand was brought to your lips once more to prove your point and though Pania pouted, she acquiesced and returned to her frolicking.

Shyness had been your constant companion your entire life. You had never liked being the centre of attention, had always been content to just blend into the background where it was safe and constant. Happy though you were tonight at your success, no amount of cajoling would to persuade you to join the mosh pit of revelry around the bonfire. You preferred your quiet contemplation, observing and finding joy in others’ bliss while they enjoyed the celebration around you.

With another sip of your drink, you sighed to yourself as the liquid burned a path down your throat.

As always, your gaze wandered through the sea of swaying and jaunting bodies, seeking out the strapping frame of the man you had become familiar with recently. You had grown fond of him over the many moons you had spent under his tutelage, far too fond, you realised. It was not long before you found him, mingling amongst a group of the other mentors.

Neteyam was laughing heartily among them, nursing his own vessel of alcohol. His smile was dashing, and his laughter was like music to your ears, warming the cockles of your heart and setting it aflame. You felt your own lips pull into a diffident smile of your own at the sight of him. He was so beautiful; both inside as well as out.

You remembered being mortified at first when he had been assigned as your replacement mentor. It had happened not long after his family had returned to the clan following the Long War.

The return of Toruk Makto and his family had been greatly celebrated; the return of their beloved olo’eyktan and the return of Neteyam as his successor. Neteyam had always been handsome, even in his youth. You recalled the silly girlhood crush you had harboured for him, a boy several years older than yourself who took not much notice of you, although he had always been kind in the few interactions you had shared.

So, imagine your horror when tsahìk Mo’at had pronounced that Neteyam would take over training you for your second attempt at your rites. Great. Just what you needed; more self-conscious pressure…

You had not done well under Rini’s instruction. Rini was one of the best young warriors in the clan, but she had found your lack of confidence frustrating and your timid nature more annoying than endearing. She had been impatient and exasperated as a result, the entire ordeal culminating in the shame of your first unsuccessful attempt at Iknimaya. You had not been injured, but you had failed because none of the ikran had challenged you and you had made no further attempt to tame one.

The decision for Neteyam to replace Rini had shocked you and it had made no sense. Even thinking back now, it still made no sense. Great Mother, why would anyone devote the time of the future olo’eyktan to the training of an inconsequential young woman?

Nevertheless, Mo’at’s decision had proven to be beneficial to your learning. You put it down to Neteyam more so than yourself. You were still the same old you; bashful, uncertain and reluctant to cause things harm, even if it was hunting wild game for the clan’s sustenance. Neteyam just had a way about him; he was unassuming and patient, and he had made you feel at ease with him.

The lively swell of the music around you faded into the background as your thoughts consumed you once more. The memory of your first meeting with Neteyam floated into the forefront of your mind…

*** FLASHBACK ***

Mo’at reappeared from around the partition in the healers’ hut, crouching down to test the consistency of the tincture in the pot by stirring it gently with a wooden ladle. The viscous fluid bubbled gently and you knew it would cool eventually to form the thick salve you were used to slathering on cuts and wounds.

The tsahìk sniffed the wafting fumes before settling appraising gold eyes on you. She smiled and the expression made the corners of her eyes and mouth crinkle with warmth, “Well done, child. It’s the perfect consistency.”

Beaming at the praise you received, you settled the pot to the side to cool and began gathering your things to clean up for the day. Eclipse was fast approaching and the light of day was fading fast. Quietly, you wondered to yourself why you could not just carry on as you were, learning from Mo’at and assisting her with the sick and injured from day to day.

You were born to help people; to heal them and give them comfort in difficult times. Hunting and learning to spar with knives and spears were the farthest things away from your proficiencies.

“You are thinking so loudly I can hear your thoughts.” Mo’at hummed, her lips forming a wry grin.

“I just don’t understand why I have to train and pass Iknimaya. I’ll never be a hunter or a warrior. Can’t I just learn from you and be a healer for the rest of my life?”

Mo’at fixed you with an astute gaze and she narrowed her eyes at you, “You can and will be a great healer, Seyla. But Iknimaya is a rite of passage that all Omatikaya individuals must pass. You need to tame an ikran or how will you travel? You’ll never fly otherwise and you are too grown now to be a pillion passenger on another’s ikran.”

With a resigned huff, you slung your pouch across your torso, preparing to depart for the evening when Mo’at called out to you again.

“Just stay back for a while today. I told Neteyam to meet you here at eclipse. I figured it would be good for the two of you to reacquaint yourselves with each other a bit before you he starts your training tomorrow.”

Self-conscious flutters erupted in your belly.

Of course, you knew you would be spending a lot of time with Neteyam in the coming while since he would be mentoring you, but the timid part of you had thought you would not need to deal with your nerves around this until tomorrow. You did what was requested of you nonetheless.

Neteyam was prompt, stepping into the healers’ hut within moments of eclipse’s onset. Your heart had been racing steadily behind your sternum in anxious anticipation, but the sight of him made it skip a few beats. Eywa help you, he was so attractive… How were you ever going to be able to concentrate on your learnings being mentored by him?

You immediately rose to your feet from where you were knelt out of respect at his arrival. Dipping your knees slightly and with a bow of your head, you greeted him, “Oel ngati kameie, Neteyam. My name is-”

Neteyam interrupted you before you could finish, “Seyla. Yes, I know. I remember you.”

Your head snapped up in surprise at his words. His smile was kind and his eyes gentle as he regarded you and you blinked, lost for words, for several moments before you found them again, “Oh, you do? We never really spoke much.”

You were six years his junior. Too young to have been in any of the social circles Neteyam had made his way around in. Any interactions you had shared were fleeting and often just greetings in passing. He was as good as the crown prince of the clan, so naturally you had known who he was. It would not have been unfair though to assume, especially with your quiet nature, that he did not notice you.

A jovial grin danced across Neteyam’s lips, the tips of his canines peaking charmingly out from his behind his upper lip, “The girl with the pretty braids. Though I see you don’t wear them as long anymore.”

The peal of laughter that bubbled up from within you was involuntary, sparked by pure delight at the realisation that he did indeed remember you. You had worn your hair much longer as a girl, your tresses trailing in luscious locks down to your hips. Your hair had been one of the beautiful things about you, and you and your mother had spent countless hours crafting new beads and braiding them into your hair in intricate styles. The length had unfortunately become inconvenient as you grew older, so the ends of your braids were now lopped shorter to brush the small of your back.

A flush heated your cheeks under his scrutiny and your laughter died down. Clearing your throat clumsily, you nodded, “Yeah, that’s me.”

A hoarse chortle emanated from behind you and you remembered Mo’at was still present. Her husky voice piped up, her eyes twinkling with some enigmatic reason in their depths, “You need to look after this one, Neteyam. Her hands work miracles with the ill and injured. She is gifted with healing, both physical and spiritual. And you of all people should understand how exceptional that is.”

The tsahìk’s words were high praise and you felt the flush on your face intensify. Her words reminded you suddenly of the reason for your meeting with Neteyam in the first place though, and you quickly added, “I will work hard as your trainee. I’m not particularly athletic or strong, but I’ll always try my best. I don’t wait to fail again and I don’t want to bring you shame as my mentor, so I’ll pass my rites or die trying.”

Neteyam appeared taken aback by the candour with which you spoke and the severity of your tone. He gave a slow cock of his head to the side, his eyes calculating while you fought hard not to squirm at his silent assessment.

Neteyam’s words were a reassurance and the thundering of your heart began to subside. Mustering up what little dregs of courage you possessed from within yourself, you lifted your head to peer into his eyes and found them void of any judgement. Their green-gold depths were open and sincere, and you perceived also a silent promise of security in them.

The lump forming in your throat hindered you from finding your word, however, and your response to Neteyam was a mute nod.

He spoke again then, the baritone of his voice rumbling delightfully through you, “I swear to you as your mentor that I will keep you safe. Your safety is my priority and you will have the protection of my body too if need be.”

Neteyam’s masculine pledge of security made parts of you squeeze in feminine appreciation, and you berated yourself internally for letting his appeal distract you.

You watched as he extended a hand out to you and you placed your hand in his to shake it, only to feel him raise the back of it to his lips instead in a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

*** FLASHBACK END ***

A stray ember spat from the bonfire and sailed through the air towards you. You hissed and slapped at your arm where the ember made blistering contact with your bare skin. The heat of the fire suddenly felt stifling and you got to your feet, intent on heading somewhere quieter where you could be alone with your thoughts.

Great Mother, you missed him already. You were going to miss him so much.

Feminine laughter reached you and the points of your ears swivelled in that direction, your eyes following suit a moment later. You spotted one of the female warriors, Penina, giggling while she clasped on to Neteyam’s forearm as the troupe of warriors continued in their conversation. She raised herself onto the balls of her feet to whisper something in his ear before she pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. Neteyam turned his head and gave Penina a sly smile in response.

You turned away quickly, not wanting to witness anything more. You should have clung on tighter to your heart while you still had it.

A sharp stab of sadness pricked in your chest and you silently chastised yourself for being so foolish. Neteyam was the future olo’eyktan for goodness sake. He had his pick of the females and he could court who he liked. You had known this day would come; the day when your success would mean losing his company.

Looking around you, you saw that everyone else was engrossed in their carousing and it allowed you slip away unhindered. Padding towards the appealing tranquillity of the woodland glade that surrounded the clan’s new Hometree, you found yourself a patch of soft moss amongst the bioluminescent eyaye ferns and settled yourself there.

Taking deep breaths through your nostrils, you closed your eyes and surrendered yourself to the sounds of the night; the soft pattering of water from the nearby cascades; the chirruping of insects and the occasional calls of a troop of syaksyuk in the lush canopy overhead. Beating back the soreness in your heart, you willed yourself to pray to the Great Mother, to be grateful and thankful for your achievement.

However, your mind did not appear to want to co-operate and the painful image of Penina kissing Neteyam’s cheek flashed through your consciousness again.

Being mentored by Neteyam was both your greatest blessing and your greatest curse.

After that first meeting with Neteyam, you had only gone from strength to strength under his guidance. He was a kind but firm tutor who held an unwavering belief in your abilities, despite the fact that you did not share that same confidence. He pushed you to your limits, but never beyond them and like any good mentor, he knew when to reward you with praise and when to be more critical.

You should have known you were a lost cause from the moment he had sworn to protect you during that first meeting. You should have been more careful. You should have guarded your heart with the constant reminder that he was not yours and never would be no matter how much you felt drawn to him during your lessons.

*** FLASHBACK ***

Neteyam stood at your back, his stance almost a mirror of yours as he adjusted your shooting form; legs positioned firmly apart, back straight with a strong core, bowstring drawn as you took aim at the target in the distance between the thick trunks of the trees. Your aim and accuracy had strengthened considerably in the weeks training under Neteyam. Tomorrow, you would attempt again the first rite of making a clean kill.

It was difficult to concentrate when you could feel the heat of his body radiating off him and feel his warm breaths tickling the point of one of your ears. The heat of one of his hands seared against the skin of your hip as he steadied you and the fingertips of his other hand supported the wrist of your bow arm. Unable to take your eyes off the target to confirm your suspicion for yourself, you also swore to the Great Mother that the tuft of his tail was delicately caressing the calf of your back leg.

“Whenever you’re ready, loose the arrow.” Neteyam whispered, and the purr of his voice sent a shudder through you that you hoped he did not notice.

Target in focus, you narrowed your eyes and when the instinctive urge hit, you let your arrow fly. It hurtled through the trees to embed itself dead centre of the mounted target amongst your previous attempts. The thrill of success washed through you once more and you gave a little skip on the spot in celebration.

“Seysonìltsan (well done)!” Neteyam cheered, looping an arm around your waist and pressing his cheek to yours in an affectionate nuzzle that made your face and neck flush, “You’re all set for tomorrow. You’re going to be just fine.”

Your initial joy at your success with target practice soon clouded over when you contemplated the final part of making a clean kill: A dagger through the creature’s heart to return its soul to Eywa; the part that you had failed to complete on your own during your first attempt. Rini had been forced to end the creature’s life for you.

The sound of the yerik’s pained, bleating cries still haunted your ears to this day. You had felt rotten being responsible for the arrow that had impaled its side. You had not wanted to cause it anymore pain…

Sensing the change in your mood, Neteyam ran a gentle hand down your side, “Hey, come back to me. What are you thinking about?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, ears twitching, your nervous eyes flitted to his, “Did Rini tell you why I failed this rite last time?”

A frown marred his handsome face and he shook his head, his concern evident as he snaked an arm around your shoulders to pull you against his side.

The soothing strokes of his thumb against your upper arm coaxed you to continue, “My arrow’s aim was true and I managed to impale the yerik. But I couldn’t end its life with my dagger. I don’t like to hurt things. It was in pain and all I wanted to do was make the pain stop. Of course, the pain would’ve stopped once I ended its life but the thought of stabbing it was too much for me to bear. Rini had to do it in the end. I was too weak to.”

Your last words were uttered with all the dejection that you felt and the tears of your shame stung in your downcast eyes. Something so simple, so natural in the cycle of life that all creatures shared in the Great Mother, and you could not do it. You were weak.

You felt warm fingers grasp your chin gently and your face was tilted up to meet Neteyam’s. Your eyes remained shuttered, however, and you cursed the two fat tears that squeezed their way from behind your closed lids to roll down your cheeks.

Swiping your tears from your face with the back of one hand, you sniffled softly and nodded. But your chin wobbled along with your voice as you posed your question, “What if I can’t do it tomorrow? What if I fail again?”

“Then I’ll guide your hand and we’ll do it together. And after you’ve completed your rites, you’ll never have to hunt again if you don’t want to.”

*** FLASHBACK END ***

And he had guided your hand in the end.

Neteyam’s bigger hand had enveloped yours to steady its trembling amid the bleating cries of the yerik you had felled, and he had given you the strength, the driving force that you needed, to complete your first rite.

Afterward, your adrenalin and your distress had all come to a head and he had held you in his arms where you were both crouched, comforting you as you cried.

That had been the first of your successful firsts, as you called them, and Neteyam had been there every single step of the way after that. Your first kill; your first climb to Iknimaya where you successfully tamed your ikran; your first flight; your first talioang hunt; and your first Dream Hunt. It was always his eyes that you sought out first at the end of each achievement, and your heart had always soared to find his gaze waiting to receive yours.

Today had been the first day in many moons – almost seven – that you did not arise in the morning and head out to meet Neteyam. You were one of the people now. There was no more training to be had and you had felt the loss of his presence keenly during the day today.

You had thanked Neteyam last night, for all his guidance and perseverance that had led to your success. You had been weary from the exertion of your Dream Hunt, your mind still foggy from the psychoactive effects of the glow worm one had to consume as part of the rite. However, you remembered murmuring your thanks to him and falling asleep against the blissful warmth of his chest as he had carried you home to your family’s alcove.

He must feel it too… You thought to yourself. That magnetism that pushed and pulled between the two of you, surely it was not simply one-sided on your part?

Neteyam had never said anything, had never given any indication to you of wanting to address the bond that had grown between the two of you. All the smiles, the embraces, the tender nuzzles, the deliberate touches and the gentle brushing of his fingers against your skin; all the almost kisses; had you imagined it all? Did your lovesick brain infer more than there actually was to all of it?

“What are you doing here?”

The voice at your back startled you out of your skin and you jumped with an unintentional yelp.

Neteyam’s deep laughter reverberated loudly in the serenity of the glade around you and you turned to swat at the calf of one of his legs, your tail lashing crossly behind you at being alarmed. He moved to settle himself on the moss next to you and you shuffled over to make room for him where the moss was its plushest.

“What have I always told you about watching your back?” Neteyam clucked playfully, reaching out to poke you in the ribs lightly.

You recoiled from the ticklish jab, unable to stop the giggle that escaped you despite the frown you still wore due to his previous action, “I don’t really think anything dangerous will sneak up on me whilst I’m on home-ground. So you’ll forgive me, karyu (teacher), for letting my guard down.”

“You don’t think I’m dangerous?” There was a mischievous glint in Neteyam’s eyes and his tone was cheeky as he regarded you.

Oh, you knew Neteyam could be dangerous with his imposing stature and warriors’ body, corded with powerful muscle that guaranteed brute strength in a wrestling match, and promised carnal delight for a woman caged within his hold in a very different kind of match. The explicit nature of your last thought surprised you and you hoped the furious blush staining your cheeks was not obvious in the dim light of eclipse.

“Seriously though, I know you’re not one for crowds and carousing, but what are you doing hiding out here?” Neteyam queried again, and sincerity coloured his tone this time.

“Everything just got a bit much. And I’m still tired from yesterday, I think. I just wanted somewhere quiet to reflect.” You muttered softly.

The familiar musk of his scent tantalised your nose and you took a discreet inhale, savouring the comfort it brought you while you also tried simultaneously to embed it into the deepest recesses of your memory. You were not going to be around Neteyam much anymore. You had healers’ duties to attend to and he had duties as future clan leader to attend to. That certainly made for quite a lot of distance.

Another twinge of sadness pulled at you and you kept your gaze on your folded knees, unable to look at him. Wanting to deflect and distract yourself from the sombre mood that was threatening to overwhelm you, you parroted his first question back at him, “I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back with the others, enjoying the party? You seemed to be quite engaged with the warriors before.”

“I saw you sneak away and I figured I’d check in with you. This is technically your party after all, to celebrate your rebirth. You sure you don’t want to head back out there? There are quite a few people who want to congratulate you.” Neteyam cajoled.

“Not right now. I’ll come back in a bit. You go on though. I’m OK, you’ve seen that no danger has befallen me.” Your attempt to be jovial fell flat even to your own ears and you felt Neteyam shift beside you, lowering his head to try and catch your eye.

“Seyla, what’s wrong? You’re upset. Has someone said something to you tonight? Hurt you? Tell me what happened and I’ll deal with them.”

Neteyam’s concern and immediate oath to defend you was moving. It was wonderful to know he still cared deeply for you despite the conclusion of your mentor-mentee relationship. His devotion to the people he cared about was one of the many things you loved about him.

Great Mother, you loved him. You were in love with him.

The sentiment threatened to choke you and you swallowed it down painfully. You were determined to keep your composure. You did not want to cry tonight in front of Neteyam, not when it was a night of celebration for you as well as for him as your mentor. You would look like an absolute ingrate and you were not about to admit to him the real reason for your melancholy either.

“Nothing untoward has happened. No one has said anything or done anything.” The words were forced from your throat and you realised with mounting horror that you were failing miserably at trying to sound normal. Your voice was unsteady and unbidden tears were pooling in your eyes.

Neteyam’s brow furrowed uneasily at your apparent distress and he shifted to face you. His large hands encircled each of your upper arms, rubbing gently in an attempt to mollify whatever turmoil you clearly felt but seemed reluctant to tell him of. “Shh it’s alright, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but you know you can tell me anything, right?”

A choked sob left you and you pawed in frustration at your wet eyes, lying through your teeth, “Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m just really tired and out of sorts. That glow worm really did a number on me.” You pushed at his forearms gently, faking a smile and urging him to return to the merriment of the party, “Go, honestly. Don’t let me ruin your evening.”

Neteyam appeared utterly unconvinced, which was testament to how well he had come to know you; how easily he could read you. He fidgeted uncomfortably then and you mused to yourself how uncharacteristic that was of him when he was usually so self-assured.

He took a slow and measured inhale, one of his hands leaving you to scratch nervously at the back of his head, “I actually wanted to talk to you about something. Something important.”

The downturned points of your ears pricked upwards with interest, his last two words piquing your curiosity, “What is it? Is it bad news?”

By Eywa, please let it not be bad news. What could be so important that he needed to speak to you right now?

Neteyam took in your worried expression, your beautiful doe-eyes shiny with emotion, and he chuckled lightly, “No, it’s not bad news. Well, it could be bad news for me, but that depends on your viewpoint on the matter.”

“What do you mean?” You queried and you both watched and felt as he took your smaller hands in his, his fingers squeezing and rubbing your palms gently comfortingly.

Licking his lips and swallowing the knot of nerves in his throat, Neteyam began to explain slowly, “You know my position within the clan as my father’s successor.”

“Yes.”

“You know that I will lead this clan as olo’eyktan when my father’s time in that position ends.”

“Yes.”

“Well, every olo’eyktan needs a tsahìk.”

You blinked perplexedly up at him. His three statements appeared rather matter-of-fact and ‘old news’ to you. It was nothing you did not know and nothing you were not already aware of. You were quite puzzled as to why Neteyam was bringing this up now. “Sorry, I don’t think I’m following you. I know all this already.”

A nervous chuckle left Neteyam then and he ran a hand down his face. He knew he was being cryptic and it was the result of his own nerves that caused him to be so. He could see you had no idea where he was going with this and he took the opportunity to tease one last time, “Have you never wondered why I was assigned as your mentor?”

You perked up at the question. Ah! This question you could relate to, “Yes! I wonder about this all the time actually. There are many other skilled hunters or warriors who could’ve trained me. I don’t understand why they designated you. Surely your skills would’ve been better used elsewhere.”

“It was my grandmother’s decision specifically. As tsahìk, she interprets the will of our Great Mother. She determines the best candidates for the future leaders of this clan.” Neteyam continued, his tone measured and he watched carefully for your reaction while you took in his words, “Seyla, you were her choice of tsakarem (future tsahìk). Of course, it was all dependent on you passing your rites, which is why no one could tell you this fact. Not even me. She assigned me as your mentor not just because of my skills, but because she wanted to see if we would get along.”

“W-What?” Your heart was galloping in your chest, your brain reeling as it tried to process the information you had just been enlightened about.

“It was such a hard secret for me to keep.” Neteyam appeared a little sheepish then and he chortled, bringing both of your hands up to his lips to press several kisses to your knuckles, “Your heart is so pure and you’re so beautiful. I grew fonder and fonder of you the more I got to know you. I wanted you to pass your rites and I knew you would with time if I could build your confidence. Now you have, and I’m so proud of you.”

A sudden burst of clarity struck you as Neteyam’s words began to sink in. Everything that had not made sense before made perfect sense now: The reason the future olo’eyktan of all people had been assigned to mentor you; the reason Neteyam had been so forward with his affection during your training; the reason Mo’at had always been so welcoming towards you learning from her, despite the unofficial mantle you had once held for so long as the ‘flop’ of the clan who may never pass your rites. There had been a bigger picture all along.

“Your grandmother wants me to be your tsahìk?”

Neteyam nodded and he reached out to cup your cheek, “Yes, if you’ll accept the position and accept me as your betrothed.”

Something dazzling white and wonderfully warm pierced through the cloud of your melancholy. You looked at Neteyam’s face, really looked at him and at the future he was presenting you with. You, tsakarem! Neteyam’s betrothed and future mate. You would stand at his side, tsahìk and olo’eyktan…

It was such an about-turn of events from what you felt moments ago that you could hardly believe it. But the sheer joy that burst within your heart was so welcome and in that moment, all was right with the world. It felt like the misshapen pieces of your wounded pride that had taken a beating after your past failures had reshaped themselves and found their place.

Beaming at Neteyam through glassy eyes that were now filling with happy tears, you laughed and the sound was bright in your ears.

Neteyam leaned in to nuzzle your cheek tenderly, his warm breath ghosting across the smooth skin there, “Please say you’ll accept and be mine. You are gifted and blessed by Eywa, and it would be an honour to have you as my tsahìk.”

“Yes. Yes, I accept.” Your giggles were wet and your arms instinctively curled around Neteyam’s neck as he lifted you in his arms to your knees in a triumphant embrace.

Neteyam drew back then, his face mere inches from yours. He nuzzled your nose lightly, “May I kiss you?”

With parted lips and a bashful nod, you absently thought to yourself that you were yet again about to experience another one of your firsts with Neteyam. Your first kiss.

His lips met yours in a tentative meld at first, the moist brush of lips an entirely new sensation to you. Neteyam pressed forward again after, claiming your lips this time in a deliberate sweep of lips and tongue that stole your breath from you and sent a spark of desire coursing through your veins.

Your earlier melancholy seemed lightyears away now in the face of what had just happened, and your heart sighed in contentment at the uplifting of its grief that had come with Neteyam’s declaration.

Not wanting to scare you with his fervent ardour, Neteyam pulled away a little to rest his forehead against yours, “By Eywa, you don’t know how long I have wanted to do that.”

“I see you, Neteyam.”

“I see you, yawntu (beloved).” He returned the sentiment, smiling as he delivered a couple more chaste kisses. He sat back on his haunches then to properly look at you, his expression turning serious then, “Will you tell me why were you upset before? I’m just concerned, that’s all.”

Rolling your lips together in mild embarrassment, you outed the truthful answer to his question, “I was sad that I wouldn’t see you every day anymore. I was missing you. But it seems I don’t need to worry about that anymore.”

The impish grin that Neteyam cast you sent hot shivers down your spine and his eyes glinted with the promise of the best kind of wickedness. He placed slow kisses to your face; one to your chin, one to your mouth and then to each of your eyes before he murmued, “Oh, there is so much that I plan to teach you, yawntu. And we have a lifetime to explore all that.”

He punctuated his words with a searing, open-mouthed kiss to the column of your neck and the suction he applied there made your toes curl into the plush moss beneath you.

With your eyes closed and your mouth slack-jawed from the pleasure his lips were wreaking where he worshipped your neck and chest, you knew without a doubt that today was just the beginning of the first of many firsts with Neteyam.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*** Author's Note:

If you've made it this far, THANK YOU for reading! <3 How did I do with this? It was very tricky to write at points, as I had to be mindful of the POV and the pronoun usage.

Leave me a line with your thoughts! <3 Could you relate to the protagonist in this? Did you feel what she felt? All the angst, her shyness, the fluff at the end...

On a side note, I love Mo'at always playing matchmaker. I always seem to write her with some cheek in her personality.

Want more Neteyam & Seyla? Check out Part II below which has a very steamy spice-extension. ;) Next Chapter: Part II - I Like Your Stars Better

#incredible writing #bestie you have to check it out rn #✨ andra's 3k event #˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ andra's mooties #annalise 💕#ˏˋ andra's fic recommendations ˊˎ

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sidespromptblog · 3 years ago

Text

A Day Trip

Summary: Roman asks Logan on a daytrip, not a date... definitely not a date.

(Just a snippet of a fic I was writing, but I don’t know if I’ll finish it or not.)

“Sooo…” Roman drew the word out slowly, as he stood there awkwardly toing the carpet of Logan’s room. “How are you doing?” He asked, not at all being subtle about what he was trying to ask. “You doing good?” He tried again.

The methodical clattering of the keys on Logan’s keyboard came to an abrupt stop, and Roman looked up from his shoes to see the logical side staring at him. It was a tired, borderline annoyed stare that made Roman feel as if he were a student interrupting a teacher when they had been talking to someone else. Within seconds though, the look was gone, as Logan pinched his nose, and rubbed the spot that his glasses had been resting on.

“I’m fine.” Logan said shortly, that air of annoyance still hanging about him, even if he tried to not show it anymore. “What do you want, Roman?”

For a moment Roman felt offended that Logan just automatically assumed that he wanted something from Logan, just because he was here didn’t mean he just wanted something from Logan. Of all the times that he was here before, this visit could mean anything as far as Logan knew. He could be here because.. because... well… Now that Roman thought about it, he actually didn’t come by here that often just to hang out with Logan. He mostly only stopped by when there was something that he wanted the logical side to fit into Thomas’ schedule, or if there was an idea that he wanted to gauge on how much it would be doable for Thomas in the future.

He never hung out with Logan.

At least not in the same way that he had with Patton or Virgil.

Roman felt a sting slap across his heart at the thought, “I wanted to ask if you cou-”

A rough snort interrupted Roman, and looking back at the side who it had come from Roman felt the tiniest spark of annoyance flaring up inside him. Ordinarily he would have said something, or even snapped back at Logan for assuming what he was going to say would somehow impact the logical side negatively. It took every inch of strength inside him to not do any of that, and to not just immediately give up and walk out like he wanted to do so often when it came to Logan.

Instead he took in a deep breath calming the pride that wanted to rear its head in defense, “I was saying, that I was wondering if I could ask if you could come with me on a day trip.” Roman tersely repeated, trying not to grit his teeth too noticaly as he stood there stiffly. “Please.”

The words on Logan’s computer were abandoned, and logical side only blinked owlishly at him.

“What?” Were the words that finally came out.

This time Roman did roll his eyes, as he crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot impatiently.

“A day trip!” He exclaimed, “You know where you go somewhere for a day and have fun? Like a d-” Not a date, definitely not a date. Roman told himself as he cut himself off before he could speak one more foul word from his mouth. It definitely wasn’t going to be a date, just a fun day… if Logan even agreed to it that was. For all he knew, the logical side would be too busy, especially with how much Remus ruined his plans for Thomas.

Logan merely blinked again, a pretty severe look of surprise coloring his features. “Why me?” He finally asked, before tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy. “Wouldn’t taking someone like Patton or even Virgil be more fun for you?” Logan pondered out loud, curious as to why Roman was even asking him in the first place.

Wasn’t he too…

Boring?

Surely he would be, and surely before the day even finished he would be finished with Logan.

Roman’s foot tapped even louder, as if the creative side was moments away from bouncing his leg so hard that it would go through the floor, and looking up he saw Roman’s pouting face and disgruntled expression. If it was even possible he looked like he was crossing his arms even harder now, as he hunched forward looking very prince-like in that moment.

A rough sigh left Roman, as he smoothed his hand over his face. “Logan…” He began softly, unsure if he should be feeling guilty or angry with himself over the fact that Logan clearly hadn’t expected Roman to want to spend time with him whatsoever. Deep inside he knew that he should have put forth more of an effort to include Logan in things, or to even show that he wanted to spend time with him in the first place. That was on him, and him alone. “I asked you didn’t I?” He asked, waiting for the other side to nod his head or give some kind of confirmation, and when he got it he went on. “If I wanted Patton to come along I would have asked Patton and not you, but I wanted you to come with me. I want you to be able to have some fun too Lo, not just everyone else.”

Logan deserved to have fun… Logan deserved to have a lot of fun! No matter where they were going to go, Roman was downright determined to have this be the case.

Even if it killed him.

“I mean…” Logan obviously fumbled a little bit, as he pushed his hair out of his face, the blue lighting from his computer masking the reddish tint on his cheeks. “Sure.. I.. I guess.” Roman now had his full attention. “Where would we even go?”

Roman smiled, a bright and full smile that radiated warmth.

“Anywhere you want…”

#logan sanders #ts logan #ts logan sanders #roman sanders #ts roman #ts roman sanders #logince #sanders sides #ts side #ts sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #ts sanders sides fanfiction #ts sides fanfiction

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princecharmingwinks · 3 years ago

Note

i cant believe you said you dont write for fandoms!! these are ending up AMAZING! have another fail date for you to make better: we went four-wheel driving over the dunes out bush, we took my car but he drove because he's done the route before. we were the second car in the convoy and because my car is a little smaller than the others it couldnt make it up the last dune! it nearly made it over before sliding back into the sand and ended up half buried! (1/2)

(2/2) the rest of the group had to drag and push us out with planks and chains etc while we were stuck inside because no way in hell i was opening the door to let the sand in! so three wheels in the sand, waiting on our rescue, irl it was a bit awkward but im hoping you'll rewrite a better ending <3

Awww concussed dragon, you are sooo sweet! Thank you! Your unique failed dates are great to work with. Alrighty, let's get into this one! So the pack got big in this one and while most don't have lines, I liked the idea of everyone being there (or almost for anyone I missed haha). I left some of the couple combos up to interpretation so feel free to ship at your leisure.

---

The pack, after much pestering from a certain human/spark, were finally going on their camping trip. The alpha had finally conceded when Stiles had shot him a pout and hopeful eyes. Derek had reluctantly agreed and ignored the snickering of his betas in the corner of the room.

On the morning of the trip, everyone was pairing up into groups of drivers and passengers so no one drove alone and there were less cars.

Derek and Stiles were the last members out of the rebuilt Hale House. Derek had been locking up and Stiles was finishing off some wards to ensure there were no unwanted visitors while they were away. He was still learning to harness his spark but small wards of protection were easy enough. Defensive magic was easier, offensive was another story.

Stiles threw his bag into the back of the jeep and glanced around.

"So, who's joining Roscoe and me?"

Erica snickered, "Derek."

"What?" Stiles and Derek snapped in unison. Well at least Stiles had a punctuation mark, Derek's not so much.

"I'm with Danny, Lydia and Jacks." Kira spoke up. "Scott, Malia, and Isaac are with Allison."

"I'm obviously with my boy." Erica jumped onto Boyd's back, who was used to his girlfriend's antics and easily caught her. "And Theo is meeting us there after picking up Liam from work. Everyone's paired up so that just leaves you two."

Stiles felt his heart flutter but managed to keep his voice even as he spoke, "Alright Alpha My Alpha, let's get going."

Derek didn't say a word as he slid into the passenger seat of the jeep. Everything would be fine.

Everything was not fine. Stiles was definitely going through a quarter life crisis at the realisation most of the pack were in couples. How did he not realise that? When had it become a prerequisite to start dating a pack member? And now it was just Stiles and the alpha. The alpha he had been in love with for years. Great...

"What's wrong?"

Stiles was pulled out of his internal panic by said alpha's soothing voice. Derek had softened over the years, showing care and concern for each member of the pack. He now bought scent-free nail polish for Erica (so the acid smell didn't upset all the were's noses), stocked Isaac's favourite gummybears and even hugged Kira willingly at her university graduation. Derek Hale was a softie.

"I'm fine, nothing wrong here, no sir." Stiles prattled. Even he heard the blatant lies without supernatural healing. He glanced to his side and was greeted by raised eyebrows.

"Ok, so I may have just realised how paired up everyone in the pack really is."

"Except us."

"Yeah," Stiles sighed. "Except us. Do you ever think about that? Like, why you haven't dated anyone since..." He trailed off. Derek didn't have the best track record for his love interests but he hadn't even been on a date for more than 3 years.

Derek looked out the window at the scenary, they were driving into the sand dune part of the journey, and for a moment Stiles thought he wasn't going to answer.

"I've been waiting."

Stiles blinked. Huh?

"For someone so smart, you're really clueless sometimes." Derek huffed, glancing back at Stiles.

"What have you been waiting for?" Stiles dared to ask. They had paused to allow Allison's four-wheel-drive to roll up the last sand dune, waiting for their turn. Roscoe would be the last time to make the climb.

"I thought it was my imagination at first but then you kept coming around and..."

It was Roscoe's turn now and Stiles slowly prepared for the final climb of the dune. He tried to keep focused on the task at hand, allowing Derek to speak his thoughts. You never rushed the alpha when he was being vulnerable.

"I know you kind of like me?" Derek voiced it as a question but all Stiles heard was sirens in his brain. Derek knew? Stiles' foot slid off the peddle and they immediately started rolling backwards, fast.

"Shit! Shit, shit shit." Stiles acted quickly but it wasn't enough. Roscoe descended the sand dune and sank, refusing to move. Sand on either side of them blocked the bottom of their doors. They were officially stuck.

Stiles rested his head on the steering wheel and slowed his breathing. There were multiple crises going on but most had solutions.

The others would work out they hadn't made the climb soon enough or Theo and Liam would find them on their way through. So either way, Roscoe being stuck wasn't a massive deal. The real dilemma was Stiles' outed feelings for Derek.

The same Derek that was eyeing Stiles with concern as he called Kira to request some assist. Stiles heard him hang up before the sound of a door handle being jiggled. He snapped his head up.

"Whoa there sourwolf, there is to be no sand storm in this car, thankyouverymuch." He reached out and tugged the alpha's hand away from the door.

"I figured me getting out and pushing was the preferred option to sitting here with you in a state of panic at my assumption."

Stiles pulled his hand back. "What?"

"Look, we can just forget I ever said anything, alright? I get I'm not the most desirable crush to have. It's probably just familiarity and your sense of loyalty that's fueled your scent around me anyway. Don't worry about it."

Stiles shook his head, "Oh no you don't. You opened that can of worms and I'm no coward." The spark met Derek's gaze. Had he been planning on ignoring his feelings for the alpha? Sure. But was he going to run away from a moment like this? Nope. Stiles Stilinski was a lot of things but after running with wolves and other supernaturals for most of his life, he knew when he needed to tackle something head on.

"Now, before you go down your rabbit hole of I'm-not-good-enough crazy talk, I've got something to say."

Derek nodded like the soft alpha he was and turned to face Stiles more fully.

"You, Derek Alexander Hale, are amazing. A little on the martyr side but that's because you are so protective of your pack. I'd be crazy to not fall in love with you. That's right, love not like. I've been in love with you for years but how was a kid like me going to catch the alpha's eye? I didn't want to ruin our friendship. This," He gestured between them. "This is important to me. I don't want to ruin it."

Derek released a sigh of relief? Stiles couldn't read his eyebrows which was disappointing when he was the most expert at interpreting the alpha's facial expressions.

Then Derek was darting forward and claiming Stiles' lips in a searing kiss. Stiles went with it, almost unbelieving that any of this was happening.

Derek eventually pulled back and rested his forehead against Stiles'.

"Worth the wait." The alpha whispered, grinning, bunny teeth all on display.

"Two way street here. You could've said something too. How long have you liked me?"

Derek blushed and it was only because they were so close that Stiles saw the pink of his cheeks and ears.

"I've always liked you, even if I didn't always show it. But love? I think I've loved you since you woke me up on an elevator floor by punching me. You could have left without me but you didn't."

Stiles pouted, "Since then?"

Derek raised an eyebrow, "What's wrong?"

Stiles pushed Derek back and clumsily crawled across the gear stick to straddle the alpha's lap.

"We could have been having the best sex of my life for years, Derek! Years! We've got a lot of making up to do." Stiles dove in to kiss Derek this time. The alpha happily drew Stiles in closer, curling his arms around the spark's slim waist.

A knock on the window, interrupted their make-out session. Boyd's face appeared with judging eyebrows to rival Derek's.

"Heard you needed a hand." Boyd spoke loudly with a smirk as Derek's hand moved away from Stiles' ass to rest safely on his back.

"What's Erica doing?" Stiles asked, leaning over Derek to squint at the blonde chatting wildly on the phone. Derek focused his hearing.

"Turns out I'm not the only one who was waiting." Derek grinned, "And everyone apparently owes Lydia money."

They did eventually get Roscoe out of the sand dune thanks to the advantages of going camping with multiple supernatural creatures. By the time everyone was settled in the camp and Erica had informed Theo and Liam on the events of the day, Lydia was a very rich woman.

Stiles couldn't complain though. Not when the alpha was snuggled between his legs as Stiles sat on the log and Derek roasted them marshmallows. Apparently no one trusted Stiles near an open flame following the incident with that vampire clan. Stiles combed his fingers through Derek's hair and looked around at the pack. This camping trip was the best idea ever.

Ok so I must confess I do not camp like...ever and have no idea how four-wheel-driving works so please forgive any major errors in that department. I tweaked things a bit from your prompt sorry. I just couldn't imagine Stiles letting anyone else drive Roscoe. Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for popping in!

#sterek #teen wolf #derek hale #stiles stilinski #princecharminganswers #princecharmingwrites

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corysmiles · 3 years ago

Note

Sup! I'm back from Barcelona! Hope you're doing well!

Remember that sbi rust prompt you gave me a month or 2 ago? It is done (not readproff tho so there may be some mistakes) anyway enjoy my grand return!

Edit: did you know 250 paragraphs is the limit lenght to an ask? On an unrelated note I will have to cut this into multiple parts so enjoy this first chapter!

-----

"Whaaat the-"

Wilbur took a step back, mouth agape and watched the figure inside of the dome. A human, identical in the looks, if not for the size of it.

When he went to explore the looming monument that rose from near his house, he expected food or scientific papers, perhaps some gas masks and equipment, not a... giant.

Weren't those things a myth?? Just a silly fictional creature to scare children away, not... not real and THERE, sleeping right in front of him??

The thing was curled up on himself, unable to fit in the 30ft wide sphere if going to its full lenght.

Wilbur was trapped in the walls of flesh.

And to his dismay, he was just in time to witness the creature wake up.

Lazily, they opened their eyes, squinting. They looked at their surroundings, the roof, the walls, the floor.

And the man was able to pinpoint the exact moment their eyes landed on him.

They gasped softly, almost mute. Their eyes widened, and they stood here, studying the punny intrudor for a too long moment. Only after, they spoke, barely above a whisper.

"Uhm... hello."

Wilbur expected the giant to speak, seeing how akin to a human he was, but he didn't expect such a young voice to be held by the.... boy?

"Hey." Wilbur waved, hand as shaking and hesitant as his voice.

"... What's your name?" They spoke.

Wilbur gulped, more on instinct. "Uuh, Wilbur. Who are you? What are you doing here?" He pointed.

They nodded in a hum before looking at the floor below, eyes a bit blurry.

"I...my name is Tommy. And uh... this is where I sleep."

The stare the human kept on the boy was intense, full of disbelief and curiosity. It was uncomfortable.

He shifted a bit. And Wilbur's eyes darted towards the small movements. Ah, right. Humans were hyperaware.

"It's been a while since I met someone around here."

"Yeah, I can imagine that... ever since the nuclear incident, it's been quite the task to find someone." Wilbur explained. What did this being knew exactly?

"Oh... I see." He lowered his head, before letting it rest on the floor, and holy shit he was even bigger than he thought.

He swallowed the lump back down his throat, and sat legs crossed.

The giant, which looked like a teenager now that he got to see his face up close, kept looking at him, expression almost bored.

Then, without much a warning, he lifted his hand and moved it towards the human, who instantly scrumbled away as fast as he could.

"wowowwoowowo- what-"

The hand froze, and when he looked at Tommy, the expression was sad, almost hurt.

Silence filled the room for a minute.

"Sorry" the giant apologized. "I must be quite scary, huh?"

Without much thinking, wilbur nodded. "Um, yeah"

"It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you." He reassured, his voice pathetic. "Can I come closer?"

Wilbur looked at the hand, then at the teen. He took a deep breath before nodding, earning a pleased smile from the blond.

More careful, a hand thrice his size came to him, fingers slowly wrapping themselves around the human. He tensed, unwilling to move an inch despite his mind begging him to get out of here.

He closed his eyes in anticipation, but after a minute of stillness, he felt a rough pressure on his head, ruffling his hairs.

"Wha- what are you doing?" He asked, refusing to open his eyes yet.

Before he got an answer, the mass, which he recognized as a thumb, moved from playing with the hair to caress his skin as gently as possible.

With much hesitation, the human opened his eyes and met the face of the teen, who beared an expression of pure shock and wonder.

As the thumb rubbed against his cheek, he inhaled, shivered.

"You're so small... so fragile..."

His face was washed with a wave of sadness, while Wilbur drew his hand closer to the gun hidden in his jacket.

"How do you feel, wilbur? Do you feel fragile?" His voice was as sad as unreadable.

And at the moment, Wilbur did feel as powerless as a bug stuck in a web. A tall, wide web. Not that he would tell Tommy.

"... Is that a threat?" He asked instead.

"No, I'm just curious." A sort of melancholy couldn't leave the giant's face. "If I were to threaten someone, it would be because they acted like a bitch. You're not a bitch as far as I know."

The curse took Wilbur off guard, and he found himself giggling at the vocabulary. The blong smiled as well.

Then, the thumb moved from the face and slowly descended to cover his chest (entirely)

And....

It felt... like a hug?

How long has it been since Wilbur has been hugged.

The gesture was confusing.

"... why?" He voiced.

"I don't know. I know people like hugs. Makes them feel safe."

He eyed the fingers around him before focusing, wary, on the face.

"What are you planning to do to me?"

"Huh?!" He raised eyebrow and his hands left Wilbur's surrounding in a too quick motion, gesturing in defense. "Nothing!! I just want you to be comfortable. Been a while since I talked to anyone." Without the giant controling his volume, Wilbur had to cover his ear at the sudden booming sound.

He nodded nontheless, still unsure, and the silence drawn out.

"...why did you want to explore the dome?"

For some reason, the echoing voice was quite soothing to the human's ears, now that it was bearable. He took a few steps and put his hand on the part of the dome not blocked by an enormous mass. His finger carressed the copper walls until he was sat.

"I wanted to explore. I don't live very far, and this structure intrigued me. I expected to find some researches, not.... uh..."

Tommy smiled and understood the man without him having to finish. "Yeah. I'm not really something to be expected."

He nodded. "And you've been here for a while?"

"Not so much." The giant responded, "I usually travel from place to place trying to survive, pretty much like everyone else."

"I see..."

"I can try and look out for any paper or stuff if you want, so next time you come, I can hand them over."

Wilbur paused. The idea of returning to the giant made him frown, but the blond did seem to hold no grudges against him.

".... Maybe." He landed on.

And visibly, the teen was elated at the news, his grin growing to his ear and his hands joining in a clap. (As gentle as he could to not make the small man deaf.)

"Welp." He got up, before he got a sugar overdose from seeing that excitment. "I think I'm gonna head back."

"Do you want me to help you get back home?" The other proposed, enthusiast.

"No."

It was quiet for a moment, silence only disturbed by the giant shifting position. It was... unusual. But the enormous teen didn't seem hostile, and if Wilbur could get himself such an ally, he wouldn't take it down.

And so he returned home.

---

2 days later, he returned.

He was surprised as well, but curiosity guided his steps much more than his fears ever since the giant teen revealed himself a potential ally.

He inhaled deeply before climbing the stairs, his feet landing on the metalic ground.

The smile on the teenager's face when he turned around and met the tiny man was as heartwarming as nervewracking.

"YOU'RE BACK!!!" He cheered, and already the human had to cover his ears, the joyous scream deafening. He realized his mistake pretty soon though as he covered his mouth and mumbled, much quieter "Sorry. Hi Wilbur."

"Hello, Tommy." He replied, cautiously removing his hands from his ear. "How have you been?" He started. Usual politeness shouldn't be too awkward.

It took all the self control of the blond to keep his voice quiet enough when he said "I've been fine, thank you." The energy bubbling from him only made Wilbur chuckle.

"Good, good." Wilbur took a few steps towards the blond (or rather his face, since the teen was kind of all around the room) "You seem happy to see me."

Tommy nodded way too quickly and strongly as he confirmed. "Yep! I-" he pained keeping his voice low "-I wasn't sure if you'd really come back. I'm very very very glad you didn't lie. Especially since I have..... THIS!!"

He didn't even bother whispering as his hand came to view, previously hidden behind his back, and coming towards Wilbur in a fist at a racing pace. The brunette couldn't help but flinch back.

Tommy stopped mid-way, realizing his carelessness once more. He whispered an apology and the hand came, much slower this time. (Almost comically slow, but Wilbur wouldn't really complain)

Then, when only at about 6ft away from the man, the hand opened, revealing several piles of papers.

Wilbur's eyes widened. He looked at the blond, confused.

"You said you wanted to look for researches and stuff, sooo I tried finding some. And you were right! There are papers everywhere in here!"

Wilbur looked at the floor which he now realized was almost white from sheets, as well as the several seemingly blank pages stuck on the giant's body, and nodded, repressing a chuckle.

"Yep. Everywhere."

Tommy held back a laugh as well, and Wilbur tried visualizing how this.... god knows how tall being could try opening drawers with his nails barely thin enough to hold the handler, and reading papers the size of a pins on his hands, all while trying to manœuver his body so he wasn't blocking the rest of the building.

He would lie if he said the thought wasn't amusing.

He went for the paper, and without much thinking hopped onto the hand, since the papers were mostly at the center of his palm.

He grabbed a few and sat down, begining reading when he felt a shaky inhale. He looked up to meet the amused eyes of the blond.

"... Seat's comfortable?" He teased, as playful as baffled.

Wilbur frowned, then looked below him and his eyes widened as he registered. He shot straight up.

"Oh-oh oh I'm so sorry- I- I sincerely apologize I-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence as he covered his ears, a wheezed laugh echoing through the entire thing and sending Wilbur shaking from the vibrations.

He found himself laughing as well, barely able to keep up his balance as he stepped out of the hand, a good chunk of paper held between his chest and arms.

The laughs finally died down, the blond disforming his face with his hand trying hard to muffle the sounds. He looked back at the human with what could only be described as adoration. The hand left his face and he chuckled still as he talked.

"Ahh, don't worry about it. I expected you to just take the papers and go, but this? This was funny. Definitely the first time someone sits on my hand like that."

"I-... is it a bad thing?" Wilbur asked, taking slow steps backward while he kept a smile. The last thing he wanted was to upset a giant he was trapped with. Sure, the kid was nice, even though overwhelming, but a wrong gesture could change that first part pretty quickly.

"Nah, I don't mind. If the floor is too cold for your liking, you can sit here."

Wilbur sighed in relief and gave the blond a smile. "Alright. Thanks."

He still chose to sat on the floor, and started reading again. His intuition was right, there was tons of information in here.

He read in silence, only disturbed every once in a while when Tommy asked what was in the sheets. Wilbur explained as easily as possible and kept the details for himself. Tommy was satisfied with the answer he was given, though, so that wasn't a problem.

He was only a quarter through the first pile of paper when he felt something approaching. He froze when a mass, probably a finger, found itself on top of Wilbur's head.

There was a beat of silence when neither moved, and the finger ruffled ever so slightly his hair.

It was a bit awkward, but it wasn't uncomfortable, so he didn't protest.

A soft voice pierced through the silence.

"If I press on your head too hard or hurt you, warn me. You're small so I don't know how much pressure I can apply on you."

"Alright." Wilbur nodded. "You're doing fine right now, I'll tell you if that changes."

The rest of the reading was done with Tommy gently playing with Wilbur's hair or tapping his back in an attempt at a 'massage' (as Tommy called it). It was distracting, but not uncomfortable. At times, even soothing.

It was almost night when Wilbur read most of the first pile. He got up with the paper he read already and looked for an empty drawer.

Fortunately, since Tommy spent 2 days scrambling to get every possible paper out, it wasn't much of a challenge. Below Tommy's angled leg was a furniture. He went and deposited it.

"That should be good." He said as he closed it. He then turned around to meet the blond. "Well, I think it's time for me to go home. I'll be back soon though, this place is VERY interesting."

He forced himself not to fake a gag at Tommy's smile. Urg. So genuine.

"Yeaaayyy" the giant stage-whispered while clapping his hands as softly and quickly as possible. "It's nice having you around. Can I do anything to help you?"

Wilbur brought a hand to his chin and thought for a moment. "If you find an empty book, you can give it to me next time. I'll bring one myself though so you don't have to tear this place upside down to find one." That made Tommy chuckle.

And so, Wilbur returned home once more.

THIS IS SO GOOD MEL OMG!!!

Pls read this it’s amazing and so well done, I love the rust server and this is so good :D

#mcyt gt community #mcyt g/t #t!wilbur #g!tommy #rust server #melissas writing #ITS SO GOOD #READ THIS NOW #THIS IS A THREAT #>:D

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askthekuvaqbrothers · 3 years ago

Note

I know you're still working on other prompts, but here me out... the boys meeting Wenzel and Toni for the first time. :)

“Have you considered schooling?”

Hermes withheld his mumbling, “I've…. Considered.”

Taking a tea break with Gizmo had become a regular occurrence during work, letting the two talk without having to take up more time in the day with official meetings. The town's service provider was a trusted confidant to Hermes, and not just because of patient confidentiality.

He'd already offered so much assistance in the wild world of child raising, and he'd probably continue to as the boys got older. There were just a few suggestions that Hermes couldn't see working. Like that one.

“See, I've tried a little bit of home learning, but only Cletus is taking to it. The other two lose interest quickly, cause disruptions, and before you know it the three are off doing something else."

“Well, a structured environment like a classroom, and peers of similar age, might just be the thing to change their behaviour. There aren’t many children in Kuvaq, but perhaps if they could make friends with one or two others?”

The encounter with Burnert and his daughter Toni came to mind.

“Hmm.”

“Even just as a trial. And they know who to call if there's trouble.”

“Well...”

Gizmo poured him another cup, giving his best reassuring smile. He’d been so trusted in all matters around his sons, but he was also a great personal confidant. It must have been years since he’d been able to have someone he could talk with, intellectually, and trust to understand him.

“I suppose we can try.”

---------

“Yeah we're going to school!!" Rufus bounced around the house, bumping into furniture and his family alike. When he shoved into Cletus’ shoulder, the green-haired boy shoved back.

“I bet you don’t even know what a school is.”

“Maybe so! But it means we're going somewhere new, somewhere outside, right Dad?!”

“That’s right, and because we’re going out, I need you all to be on your best behaviour. Understand?”

They all nodded, each at different levels of enthusiasm, with Argus pointedly looking at the floor.

“Good. Now hold hands, and let's go see what school is like.”

Cletus took Hermes' hand, the old man hunching a little further so he didn’t have to reach too far, while Rufus took his free hand and Argus took the remaining one to stop any wandering fingers.They left their small house and made their way across town, heading out the gates and down towards a smaller walled area which has its own gates, and gate keeper, who greeted them warmly.

“Hello there, would you happen to be the Herald family?”

“Yes, I’m Hermes and these are my sons Cletus, Ruf- Rufus stop that.”

He was swinging his arms wildly, to which Cletus was resisting and Argus was competing against. A measured frown got them to calm the motions.

“Cletus, Rufus and Argus. They’ll be trialing school today.”

“Wonderful! I’m Gary, Kuvaq’s main teacher. Most other kids are here already, so if you’d like to come in.”

Gary pushed open the gates, revealing a large flat and open area that looked to have most hazards removed. A large rectangle was drawn in the centre, while off to the left were rows of tables and chairs placed in front of a large board. Towards the back was a standalone building with a large window and an awning, and to the right was another that had various extensions added onto it. There were several children of varying ages playing within the space, once of which Hermes noticed was Toni, who was with another girl looking at a cactus.

“Were you planning on staying for the lesson Mr Herald?”

“Oh, as much as I’d love to, I must get to work soon. Though if there’s any trouble-”

“Haha, don’t worry, Gizmo has informed me of the situation. I keep flare guns for communication just in case!”

Gray pulled the gun from the waistband of his pants, grinning, before slipping it back into place. He then cupped his hands around his mouth, calling out for the children to gather. Hermes knelt to address his sons.

“Alright, now please, be on your best behaviour-”

Rufus slapped a hand on his mouth.

“Shushushu… shu. You have n’uttn to be worried about!” He slung his arms over his brother's shoulders, dragging them into an unwanted huddle, “We’ll be good!”

With a hopeful smile, Hermes drew them all into a hug, praying that nothing would go wrong.

--------

“This is boooring.”

Gary was going on and on about something, which Rufus could only define as completely uninteresting. They were sitting at the tables with all the other kids, who were also at different levels of interest and very much not. Cletus had his eyes focused forward, but his frown was clearly aimed.

“Maybe to a simpleton like you, I on the other hand-”

“Come on, let's ditch.” Rufus turned enough to begin kicking Argus’s chair, “Hey, hey, hey.”

Cletus rolled his eyes, “He’s asleep.”

They stared at their brother, who looked to be staring ahead, but his mouth was slightly open and a tiny drip of drool was forming.

“Drat, how does he do that? I have to use little sticks to hold mine open!”

“Just still still for once and listen to the teacher.”

Rufus faced the front with a pout, swinging his legs. If he swung them far enough, he could see his toes on the other side of the table. And if he spilled down and stretched his toes, he could nudge the chair in front of him. Which he did.

Several times.

Until the kid who was seated in it spun around and growled at him.

‘Growling? Who does that?’

So obviously he growled back.

“Stop that! You’re being embarrassing.” Cletus hissed.

“Alright class,” Gary clapped his hands, “Now we’re going to pair off to do a task. I will give each group a letter, and you’ll have to think of a word that starts with that letter. Then, you need to figure out a way to have everyone guess the word, without talking!”

Whispers went around the group. Argus’ head fell forward before it snapped back to alert, giving Rufus a giggle, to which Cletus further shushed him.

“Now, the pairs will be-”

-----------

Argus kicked at the dirt, completely ignoring his work partner. He wasn’t interested in whatever they were supposed to be doing, he would much rather be playing with his brothers, or napping. Though he napped best around his brothers so really, he just wanted to be home.

“Hey! Are you even listening?!”

The boy he’d been paired with (‘S... Se..Sick? Sike?’) was around a head taller than him, and really thin, probably making him a few years older. Though that didn’t mean anything really, just that he probably shouldn’t look like he was about to throw a tantrum.

“This a baby task, meant for dumb little babies. Since I’m clearly not the baby here, then you should do all the work.”

Argus regarded him for a moment, then went back to kicking the dirt, gazing around the yard to see what the other two were doing.

“Hey, pay attention when someone talks to you!”

Rufus looked to be enjoying himself, waving wildly at the tiny kid he was with. Cletus was with the girl they’d met the other day, but he didn’t look comfortable-

There was a hand gripping the top of his head.

“Hey! What’s wrong with you?! Can’t do anything without your dumb brothers?”

Argus felt his eye twitch. The hand shook his head from side to side.

“I’m surprised I don’t hear rattling. Though, maybe afterwards I’ll go shake the other two to make sure you're not just sharing one bolt for a brain around.”

He grabbed the offending hand by the wrist in a vice grip, and looked up at the older boy.

“Don’t touch them.”

“Or you’ll what little baby-”

--------

Toni stared at Cletus.

Cletus… struggled to match her gaze.

It was really scrutinising.

He hadn’t even said anything to her yet, but here he was, stuck being judged by the girl who defeated all three of them.

“You really are a drago-”

Her expression became a glare.

“What was that?”

“...nothing.”

“Right.”

It softened again, and thankfully this time she turned her eyes to the sky.

“Sooo, what are we gonna pick?”

Cletus turned the metal square the teacher had given them in hand, until the line beneath the letter was at the bottom.

“We got the letter P.”

“Wow, I’m kinda surprised you knew to do that.”

“Someone in the family needs reading comprehension.”

“P… Hmmm…. Oh! I’ve got the perfect idea!”

“What, you’re not even going to ask for my thoughts?”

“I-” Toni was taken back a little by how offended he immediately looked, “...sure, what’s your idea?”

His smile was very proud, “Well, words are my speciality.”

Reading his fathers growing collection of books was one of his favourite things to do, making him much more versed in the world of words than either of his brothers, something he took great pride in.

“Well, for the letter P there is- plagiarize, prosecution, participate, profound, plutonium… pigeon.”

Toni just stared at him.

“And how exactly would we get people to guess those? I mean, maybe the last one, that would be funny, but the other ones...”

“If they can’t guess them, then we’re clearly too smart for them.”

She sighed.

“No, we’re going to do things my way. You just follow along.”

“Hu? But, you haven’t even said what word you thought of!”

She slung an arm over his shoulders, bringing him in close.

“Do as I say, or you’ll be playing ‘pigeon’, by yourself, in front of allll the other kids.”

He gulped, and nodded.

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

“Hi!”

“H-hi.”

Rufus bent over at a 90 degree angle, staring directly into the face of his work partner.

"You're reeeeally small!"

He almost looked to get smaller when he sighed, which was even funnier. He couldn’t stop the grin covering his face, but he did manage to stick out a hand.

“I’m Rufus!”

He didn’t reach for it right away, adjusting his glasses and checking how far away the teacher was, before he accepted the shake.

“Wenzel.”

His whole arm was rapidly shaken.

“That’s a funny name!”

When he was finally released, Wenzel had to also adjust his hair and coat to straighten himself out. He had no idea what to make of this new kid.

“You look like you’d know a thing or two about funny.”

“Yeah I know all about fun! You wanna play?”

“We should be doing what the teacher asked.”

“Oh, right. What was that again?”

Wenzel tilted his head, watching the other boy curiously. He opened his mouth, but then reconsidered, instead holding up the letter square. Rufus just blinked at it.

“We have to pick a word, remember?”

Recognition, finally, as he waved his arms about, “An eff word!”

“Yes. And it has to be something we can pretend for others to guess.”

“Let’s pick something exciting! With energy!”

“Hmmm, energetic, f… what about fire? Teacher didn't say anything against using sound effects, so maybe-"

Rufus gasped.

"Great idea! It's like I thought of it myself! Or maybe I did, and I beemed it into your head- AH!” He grabbed his little round head, "We're connected Wenzel. With you as my sidekick, I’ll be unstoppable.”

“Sidekick-?!”

“Shush, say no more. I know exactly what you’re thinking now, and yes, it’s a great honor. Now we’ll just need a few things to do the best presentation ever!”

Wenzel wriggled from Rufus’ grip, stepping out of his arms reach for now.

“What ‘things’?”

“Well first I need a g-”

“CHILDREN. THIS IS NOT AN APPROVED SCHOOL ACTIVITY.”

“FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!”

Both boys turned out the sudden shouting, looking to where all the other children were quickly gathering around Gary. Grabbing Wenzels hand, Rufus practically dragged his new friend to the scene, coming up behind their teacher to join the chanting mob.

“ARGH! Make him stop! Make him stop!!”

Gary was trying his hardest to simply push the two children apart, but when it proved useless he had to resort to using both hands to try to pry Argus’ teeth off the other boy's hand. When even that failed, Gary moved one hand to fumble for the flare gun, but had to drop it when Argus shifted his jaw to also bite down on the other invading fingers. Wenzel looked up at Rufus, who didn’t seem to care for the scene.

“Isn’t that your brother? Shouldn’t you do something?

Rufus was wholly focused on the gun on the floor, “Just what the presentation needs.”

“We won’t have a presentation if the teacher is hurt!” When he didn’t look convinced, Wenzel added, “Plus, you’d be showing off how cool you are to the whole class if you step in right now.”

Rufus finally looked at his short friend, then looked around the group. Cletus was watching beside Toni, both talking to each other, not looking like they were going to help out. He sighed, but looked a bit smug about it.

“Guess it all falls to Rufus to save the day.”

He stepped into the scene (while also grabbing the gun and slipping it into his belt pouch), and put himself between his brother and the others.

“Hey. You’re gonna ruin my chance to do a awesome presentation. Stop.”

He pinched Argus’ nose to get his attention. When they locked eyes, Rufus broke out his best pout, the one that alway got Dad to give him an extra snack. He knew that with any luck-

Argus let go, shaking his head to release Rufu’s grip, before spitting blood onto the ground. The boy he’d bit wailed, cradling his hand, and Gary took stock of his own injury, gaze flicking to the brothers in case of more violence. When it looked that Argus was now content with his actions, Gary stood tall to address the class.

“W-well, I hope you all take this as an example of what not to do during class. If you must bite someone, please do it off school property. Now, I’m going to take Sikke to see Gizmo. Argus, please see yourself to the timeout box,” He pointed to a little cage by the nearest building, “And the rest of you, keep working on your presentations until I return. Then we can all show off what amazing words we chose!”

With a grin, Gary left the school yard with Sikke.

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

“I’m so sorry-”

“Please Mr. Herald, all things considered, a little biting should have been expected. A new environment can be stressful and scary to young children. I should have kept a closer eye on how he was reacting to others.”

Hermes wrung his hands, but tried to copy Gary’s smile. Yes, Argus had apparently come within millimetres of taking Sikke’s pinky finger off, but other than that (and a few nicks on Gary’s hand) the boys hadn’t caused any trouble. The school day had been mostly a success.

He’d made the choice to return with Gary after Gizmo had explained the situation, so he could scold Argus while the event was still fresh, and be able to watch Rufus and Cletus’ presentations before they headed home.

As they entered the yard, they found most of the children just playing their own games. When Gary pointed out the timeout box, they did in fact find Argus sitting inside, watching Rufus who was using the cage to climb up onto the building's awning. Wenzel was already on it, trying to help pull him up.

“Okay children! Back to your desks, it’s time to present!”

Once they’d gotten the two off the awning, Hermes collected Argus in his arms and stood where they could watch. Rufus wouldn’t stop squirming in his seat as each pair went up, though it was Toni and Cletus who went before him.

“Just like I said.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Cletus held up the letter square, Toni cleared her throat.

“We got the letter P. Please try to guess our word.”

He squatted down to set the square aside, then curled his arms over his head and stayed in that position. Toni began to mime; acting like she was carrying something, setting it down, moving something up and down, picking the first again, but it was heavier now, then she shuffled next to Cletus and pretended to pour it on him. Cletus then slowly unfurled, until he was standing tall with his arms in the air, face dead serious.

Rufus lost it, almost falling from his seat with laughter.

To his credit, Cletus scowled, but remained in his position. There were 'umm's and 'ahh's around the group, until the girl Toni had been originally playing with raised her hand.

"Plant!"

"You got it An!"

Toni went over and gave her a high-five, while Cletus went back to his seat, head held high. He bopped Rufus on the head for good measure.

"Nice choice of word and wonderful display you two! Okay, the next pair is Wenzel and Rufus."

"Finally!"

He launched from his seat, dashing to the front with Wenzel following as close as his short legs would let him. When they were both facing the class, Wenzel held the letter square as high as he could while Rufus addressed everyone.

"Our letter was Fff! Watch and be amazed at our presentation!"

Hermes shivered.

"Why do I feel like…"

Wenzel began to mime clicking to rocks together.

"Chk, Chk, Chk-"

"BWOOSH!"

Rufus whipped out the flare gun, firing it at the nearby building, where the flare landed and ignited something on the awning. It only took seconds before something else caught, and quickly the whole thing was alight.

Rufus grinned widely.

"GUESS! Go on, GUESS!!"

Gary leapt forward, moving to usher the children away from the growing inferno, while Hermes stood in shock, feeling years slipping off his lifespan. When Argus began tugging at his collar, he got enough sense back to step away.

"I can guess this one. It's fire."

"... Good job. I think that's enough school for now. "

#Deponia #Deponia Rufus #Deponia Cletus #Deponia Argus #Deponia Hermes #Deponia Gizmo #Deponia Toni #Deponia Wenzel #LONG POST #Deponia Fanfiction #Kuvaq Brothers #Deponia AU #PHEW #I should leave this for fresh eyes but also CONTENT

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