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reidmoony-toast · 4 months ago

Note

could you maybe do like a one shot of Spencer x Supermodel!fem reader? Like she does runways for super popular brands like Versace and Victoria’s Secret?

Radiant. ౨ৎ

Spencer reid x fem supermodel!reader

content: established relationship, no use of y/n, spencer being down bad tbh, fluff

cw: Victoria's Secret show, so underwear yk (but no sexualising or anything)

wc: 2.3k

an: This is so exciting, hi first anon req!! I love you so much! Anyways this idea is amazing and I hope this is what you envisioned <3 This isn't my best work, but I tried 😭 Also I based the outfit off Karolina Kurkova's in a 2003 show, but its set in early season 7 soo forget that!

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“Is that her?” Penelope whispers for the hundredth time.

“No.” He huffs, tired of answering the same question for the past ten minutes.

“Patience, babygirl.” Derek chuckles from Spencer's other side. “He'll tell us when she's here. Maybe not with his words, but definitely with his eyes.” Derek flutters his lashes in Spencer's direction, clearly making fun of him.

“Both of you leave me alone, please?” He pleads, sick of their antics. They haven't stopped talking, and it's putting him on edge. He wants to appreciate today. Appreciate you.

You had been desperately hoping to get this job with Victoria's Secret for months, and you were ecstatic when news of your hire reached you through your manager. You'd been raving excitedly about it ever since, and had begged him to finally come to a show.

He obliged, of course. Partly, because he can't say no to you, and mostly because he has been eager to see you in your element ever since you two had started dating.

Now, he is buzzing in anticipation, which is definitely not helped by Morgan and Garcia's constant remarks.

It wouldn't have been his personal preference to invite them, but you'd insisted, saying it was about time you met Spencer's friends, anyways.

The show continues, scantily clad girls strutting down the catwalk, angel wings attached to their backs and sequins blinding, but still, you were nowhere to be seen. Spencer fidgets, waiting with baited breath.

A figure emerges from the side of the stage, turning to strut down the walkway. He freezes, shooting up in his chair from where he was previously slumped. It was you. Undeniably. He could pick you in a sea of people from a mile off, if it came to it.

His breath hitches. He takes you in.

There you stand, in all of your glory. He can't quite believe what he’s seeing. Sure, you're self-assured in your everyday life, but this is on a whole new level.

You radiate confidence, striding down the catwalk like you own it. Spencer is utterly captivated by this different side of you that he has never seen in person before.

Sure, he's seen endless pictures—and even some videos—of your modelling, as well as the shows that take place in the comfort of your home; when you put on outfits and strut down the long hallway of your apartment, to loud enthusiasm from Spencer.

These particular one-on-one shows usually end in you dressing in progressively more atrocious outfits, until you’re both prone from uncontrollable laughter.

But this. This was real. It all hits him then—that you are a supermodel, that you do this for a living. That this is your life.

His chest swells with immense pride at all you have accomplished. You've worked so hard, built your career from the ground up, and it has paid off. Your dreams have finally come true, and now, you're modelling in a Victoria's Secret show, which he is told (by you, of course) is world-renowned.

“That's her.” Derek concludes smugly, no uncertainty in his tone. Spencer shushes him loudly, eyes fixed solely on you.

You don't falter for a single step as you glide down the stage. You're clad in a sparkly silver bra that glints off the bright lights, sequined mesh sitting below the bra's edge.

A small pair of matching silver underwear sit below your hips, a glittering garter to match. And, of course, the wings. They protrude from your back, spanning above your head, magnificent and ethereal. Spencer thinks you ought to have a halo to match.

The feathered angel wings trail down your back, sweeping across the floor behind you as you make your way to the end of the catwalk.

Garcia and Morgan are saying something across him—most likely about you—but he pays them no mind, not caring for anything else but you, in front of him.

As you near the end of the perilously long stage, Spencer's smile only grows, until he is beaming uncontrollably when you slow to strike your pose.

Spencer and his company have VIP tickets, courtesy of you, so he has an unobstructed view of you, directly in front of where he is sitting.

Your hands rest on your hips as you lock eyes with the sea of cameras frantically snapping pictures.

You look fierce, fiery, and Spencer somehow grins harder.

As your eyes scan the room, they easily lock on Spencer's, not even ten feet away. His eyes are wide, smile larger than life.

His lips move, mouthing words to you that you instantly understand, and you light up, a warm glow from within.

‘I love you’

The luminous smile remains, even when you remember your surroundings. You pose again, grinning all the while and the crowd claps while shutters click incessantly. You pivot, sashaying off, but not before looking back over your shoulder to blow a cheeky kiss in Spencer's direction, winking.

It might just be Spencer's perception, but you seem to shimmer with incandescent light, like your very soul was set aflame with a soft fire. You are radiantly gorgeous—utterly perfect in the eyes of Spencer Reid.

The wink you sent over your shoulder makes him duck his head, face and ears bright red. He is the luckiest man in the world. To have you, all to himself.

He is still grinning, even as you disappear around the corner. Maybe he is biassed (most certainly), but you were by far the most captivating model up there. Your every move seemed effortless—practised and perfected.

You drew the attention of everyone, and you kept it. It felt as if the whole room had held its breath as you passed, too busy watching to remember how to breathe.

Maybe that was just his singular experience. He wouldn't know, and he doesn't particularly care.

As the show wraps up, Garcia and Morgan are raving—about you.

“Spencer, I can't believe she is your girlfriend! She is absolutely stunning!” Penny gushes.

The first statement hurts him a little, like everyone thinks he can't possibly be dating a pretty model—but it's definitely true. The second statement, however, is the truest thing he's ever heard in his 29 years of life.

Spencer chooses not to respond to Penelope, instead heading for the exit. They follow, and Morgan claps him on the back. “You're one lucky man, pretty boy.” He whistles suggestively, and Spencer brushes off his hand, mumbling something under his breath as he is suddenly interested in the craftsmanship of the venue floor.

He found this hard. Blending his work and home life, introducing you to his family. It's not that he's worried they won't like you—that’s impossible, when it comes to you—it's more that he has trouble combining the two sides of his life in his head, given the fact that he is almost two different people in each.

He doesn't bring his work home, and he doesn't bring his home to work—mostly. He does, sometimes (too often), ramble on about you and how downright amazing you are. He's only human, after all.

Mostly, he's scared that it will be a mistake, that the two sides will end up being better off separate, that mixing the two now will have irreparable consequences.

But, you wanted to, so he’s taking the plunge. For you. Always for you.

~☆~

Spencer feels like he shouldn't be here. They're in the very depths of the building; models, designers and beauticians alike flit past them, paying them no mind as they go about their business.

He glances over his shoulder at the ajar door that leads to the dressing rooms every couple of seconds, in case you come through and save him from this place—which is the polar opposite to everything that makes him comfortable.

He's here for you, though, and he would endure this for you. Only for you.

Morgan and Penelope stand a few feet away, at ease and chatting like this is the most normal situation in the world, like they've been backstage at thousands of Victoria's Secret shows.

Just as he's about to go into a nervous breakdown, he sees a flash of movement appear from behind the door.

“Spence!” A shriek sounds as he turns to see you, bounding towards him. You throw your arms around his neck, nuzzling his cheek.

His hands come up to steady you, curling under the hem of your sweater. He feels instantly less overwhelmed, breathing you in like you're the oxygen he needs to live—like he can’t breathe properly when you’re not near.

You're draped in an oversized knit and comfortable track pants that engulf your frame. The irony wasn't lost on him—you were wearing nothing but showy undergarments not even half an hour ago.

He loves that about you. That you aren't entirely defined by your job, that you have a part of your life and sense of self cordoned off; a part that isn't affected by the insane world of modelling. He loves that you can be yourself in so many different ways, that you have all these different facets. Just like a diamond, whose sides are all different, but every single one shines just as brightly all the same.

It inspires him to do the same for himself, to have a true self outside of his chaotic job that takes over most of his life. You’ve helped him see that life can be varied, diverse; that there are so many different things—other than one's job—that can make you feel fulfilled. Content. Happy.

He's happy; truely and vibrantly happy with you. And that is the way he wishes it to stay.

He chuckles amusedly at your strong display of affection. “Hello to you too, lovely.”

You pull back to grin at him, albeit a little sheepishly. “Sorry. I'm just so happy you're actually here.”

His gaze softens impossibly more. “It was long overdue.” He cups your cheeks and leans down to press a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “You were phenomenal.”

You beam, and draw him closer.

The clearing of a throat brings you out of your reverie, out of the world where there is only the two of you.

You pull away, detaching yourself from Spencer, eyes flashing with delight. “Hi!” You wave at a shocked-yet-amused Derek Morgan, and an exuberant Penelope Garcia.

Derek raises his eyebrow at Spencer, probably surprised by how little he cared about your public display of affection. He usually doesn’t even let Garcia hug him unless it’s important. But, like with everything else, you’re different—special. He simply shrugs back.

“You must be the friends Spence has told me so much about.” She reaches out a hand to shake Morgan's hand. “Derek, right?”

Derek smirks, “In the flesh.” He grasps your hand, grip firm. “The show was amazing, by the way.”

“Thank you!” You chirp, brightening further, and Morgan huffs out a laugh.

You pull away, turning to the eclectic women next to him. “And you, must be the famous Penelope.”

You reach out your hand once more, but Garcia has other ideas. She dives in for a hug, bypassing the formalities immediately.

She pulls away abruptly as you squeak in surprise. “Oh- sorry! I'm sorry.” She blurts out. “I'm just so happy to meet you, finally! Reid has told us so much about you, I just couldn't wait any longer!” She grins broadly. “And you're even prettier than he described, which I don't understand how that's humanly possible, because boy genius over there won't stop talking about how gorgeous you-”

“Woah there, baby girl, slow your roll.” Derek interrupts, patting Garcia gently on the shoulder. You stifle a laugh, glancing at Spencer. He ducks his head, avoiding your eye and shuffling from one foot to another as his face turns pink.

“Sorry!” Penelope flushes scarlet red. “Uhm… what I meant was ‘nice to meet you’.” She cringes at her outburst.

“No need to say sorry. It's an absolute pleasure to meet the both of you, Spence speaks so highly of you two.” You beam, and Garcia deflates in relief. Spencer’s arm snakes around your waist and under the hem of your sweater once again, smoothing patterns on your bare skin. You lean into his side, a contented sigh escaping your lips.

“You know, when boy genius here told me he was dating a supermodel, I didn't believe him.” He raises eyebrows, smirking. “But, here you are.”

“In the flesh.” You flash him a grin, parroting back his own words. He lets out a chuckle.

“Why is it so unbelievable?” Spencer complains incredulously.

They all laugh at his words, and he hangs his head, sighing dejectedly. You pat him on the chest in consolation.

All of Spencer’s fears are quickly doused as a lively conversation starts up between you and his friends. He doesn’t know why he worried, like if they met everyone would self-combust. No, this was going fine. More than fine, even.

His breathing slows, sure and steady, and he just watches. Watches you speak animatedly, with a delighted glint in your eye, clearly enjoying Penelope and Derek’s presence. And his friends, his family, seemed to be enjoying her just as much, which he obviously isn’t surprised about, but still fills him with relief. It was okay. It was all going to be perfectly okay.

“How does some dinner sound?” You ask the group, just as Spencer tunes back in.

Penelope claps her hands together, “Yes! I have the perfect place.”

“Sounds good to me.” Derek replies. “If lover boy is coming, of course. I can't wait to tell lover girl, here, all the embarrassing stories at his expense.”

Spencer groans, but follows Garcia as she heads towards the door. You just laugh.

Spencer pinches your side from where you're still tucked under his arm and you yelp. This time, he's the one letting out a quiet chuckle, and you roll your eyes.

“Come on genius, lead the way.” You look up expectedly from under his arm.

“Anything for you.” He simply replies, wrapping himself around you tighter, before guiding the both of you towards the door.

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Thank you for reading, feedback is appriciated x

Tags: @reidology13 @reidmania <3 - Comment to be added!

Masterlist ౨ৎ

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meazalykov · 4 months ago

Text

welcome home

barcelona femeni x alexia putellas x youngadult!reader

summary: you find healing after switching clubs

warnings: swearing, bodyshaming, one mention of bodily fluids, I made up names of imaginary players who don't play for the nwsl club mentioned in this fic!!!, bullying, angst, yes there is a happy ending.

you grew up with your eyes on the stars, and your feet on the ball.

at 15, you felt like the world belonged to you—a place where dreams became your reality. you’d trained hard your whole life to make it to the world stage, and by 16, you were living your dream as one of the youngest members of the 2019 world cup roster for the united states.

the national anthem playing, crowds screaming your name as you made the assist to rose lavelle’s goal—it was everything you’d ever wanted.

all of the happiness and thrill faded away when you joined the kansas city current. when you first stepped into the locker room, you were excited. new teammates, new opportunities—it was everything you’d hoped for.

you wanted to make friends, to be part of a family when it came to being with your first professional club outside of your childhood one.

the moment you walked through those doors, you could feel something off. the eyes on you were sharp, intense, cold.

“what’s up, big foot?” macy had said, the team captain, with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"don't trip over those feet, yeah?" she had laughed, and a few others joined in, but the laughter felt harsh, mocking.

“yeah, we don’t need a kid coming in thinking she’s hot shit,” added jessica, one of the veteran players, her words dripping with sarcasm.

“try not to embarrass us out there.”

you laughed nervously, trying to brush it off as rookie hazing, but the tone was sharper than you expected. you told yourself that it was normal, that it was just their way of breaking the ice.

you couldn't have been more wrong.

practices started to become a war zone. it wasn’t just intense training; it was like they were out to get you. elbows to your back when the coach wasn’t looking, hair pulling, shoes clipped behind your heels to send you stumbling.

once, in a scrimmage, you remember trying to dribble past jessica. the curly-red headed girl came in late with a slide tackle, her studs connecting straight with your shin. you hit the ground hard, gasping for breath, and she stood over you, smirking.

“whoops,” she said, her voice flat and unapologetic. “you should be quicker, portland has fast forwards and you can’t defend them with those legs.”

the coaches didn’t do anything. you’d get up, limp back into position, and hear them say, “come on y/n, toughen up. you’ve got to be ready for contact against portland on thursday.”

they acted like it was all normal, like you were the problem.

in the locker room, it wasn’t any better. they whispered behind your back, cruel comments about your skills, your looks, even your voice.

once, after a tough practice where arianna had practically shoved you into the goalpost, you were struggling to keep your emotions in check as you unlaced your cleats. you heard them in the back of the room, their voices loud and taunting.

“seriously, what does the national team see in her? she’s not even that great,” jessica said, snickering.

“guess they needed a token teenager to fill the roster,” another voice added, followed by laughter.

“she needs to go back to playing with the u18s, kylie you’d do much better than her in the left-back position!”

you bit your lip so hard it bled, staring down at the floor, pretending you didn’t hear them. you never knew what to say. it felt like you couldn’t breathe.

everything you did felt wrong, like you were walking on eggshells every day.

and then came the night that broke you.

it was after that world cup loss to sweden, a moment that already weighed on you like a thousand bricks.

you returned to kansas hoping to throw yourself into training, to prove you could bounce back. but when you entered the locker room, your world came crashing down. your locker was trashed—like a hurricane had blown through.

your training kit was shredded, your cleats filled with some kind of foul-smelling gunk– obviously period blood due to a used tampon found inside of the locker. and scrawled in black marker across the inside door of your locker were the words,

spoiled, selfish, fat bitch!

you stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, hands shaking so violently you couldn’t steady them.

“what... what the fuck is this?” your voice came out a choked whisper.

kamryn, another girl on the team, walked by, a smug grin on her face.

“looks like someone had a bad month,” she said, fake sympathy dripping from her words.

“i hope you can still play tomorrow, stargirl.”

the nickname fans around the world called you, now being used to belittle you.

you couldn’t hold it in anymore. you yelled at them, your voice cracking with rage and desperation, “the fuck? what did i do to any of you? this is fucking insane and you think i am the problem?”

“you walked in here thinking you were better than us. you got handed everything, y/n. you don’t deserve to be here. you’re a little girl playing a big girl’s game.” jessica walked in, scoffing while smirking at the sight of your locker in the dressing room.

you left that night and didn’t stop crying until your eyes were red and swollen. but even then, the coaches did nothing.

they told you to toughen up, to show “mental strength,” as if their approval could patch over what you were going through. and that’s when you realized you had to get out—before this place destroyed you and any love you had for football.

barcelona was the escape you desperately needed. a chance to rebuild, to breathe.

when you landed in spain, everything felt fragile. it didn’t matter that you were now with one of the best clubs in the world.

the trauma from kansas stuck to you like a shadow. you walked into your new locker room, keeping your head down, afraid to say the wrong thing, terrified of the laughter you thought you’d hear.

but it never came.

instead, alexia, the captain, was the first to welcome you. “y/n! niña!!! so nice to finally meet you,” she beamed, pulling you into a hug that felt warm and real.

“i can’t wait to see you play. you’re from the states? we need to introduce you to keira and lucy– they’ve been wanting to meet you but don’t take their banter seriously.”

every day, they chipped away at your fear. little by little.

when you struggled on penalty kicks one time during training, patri stayed back with you after practice.

“okay you got this!!! by the end of this evening, you will never miss a penalty kick again. trust me! yeah? it’ll be fun.” she speaks with a thick catalan accent.

you were hesitant, scared to mess up, but patri never pushed. she was patient, kind. she’d pass the ball back to you and made you do penalty kicks over and over again until you felt comfortable, until your footwork was smooth, and every small achievement she celebrated like it was a goal in the final.

“see? you’ve got this,” she’d say, and you’d feel the corners of your mouth tug into a smile for the first time in what felt like forever.

it was a few weeks into your time with barcelona, but you still felt like an outsider.

even with the kind gestures, the smiles, the support from the team, you were carrying the weight of kansas like a ghost.

you stayed quiet during team meetings, laughed politely but never loudly, and when the others shared jokes or talked about life outside of soccer, you sat on the edges, half-invisible.

alexia had been watching you. she noticed how you shrunk into yourself, how you seemed to fade into the background during conversations.

during drills, your focus was laser-sharp—too sharp, like you were overthinking every touch, every pass. when you were off the ball, your eyes darted around, like you were searching for threats.

you reminded alexia of esmee when she first arrived last season—new, uncertain. but this was different.

there was fear and sadness in your eyes.

one afternoon after training, alexia pulled you aside. the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the pitch, and most of the team had already started heading back to the locker room.

you felt her hand on your shoulder, and you turned, trying to hide the nervousness in your eyes.

“niña,” she said gently, a small smile on her lips. “can we talk?”

you nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. “sure, alexia. what’s up?”

“it’s about you,” she said, her voice steady but soft. “you’ve been… quiet. more quiet than normal. and i get it, you know, being the new girl and all. esmee and kika were shy when they first came, but…” alexia paused, searching your face.

“this feels different. it feels like you’re afraid of us.”

you could feel your chest tighten, the words getting stuck in your throat. you didn’t want to seem weak, didn’t want to burden anyone.

“i’m not... i mean, it’s just—" you stumbled over your words, trying to find the right thing to say, something that wouldn’t make you sound like a mess. “it’s nothing. really.”

alexia didn’t buy it. she shook her head slightly, taking a step closer to you. “i don’t think it’s nothing, y/n. you barely look anyone in the eye, and when someone even brushes by you during training, you flinch like you’re waiting to get hurt. it’s not normal.”

she kept her voice calm, steady, like she was trying to reassure a frightened animal. “listen... if something happened before you got here, you can talk to me. it’s just me right now. no one else.”

you wanted to brush it off, to laugh and say she was overthinking, but the truth clawed its way up, burning your throat. you clenched your fists, staring down at your cleats, trying to focus on anything but alexia's eyes, which felt like they could see right through you.

“it’s… it’s hard to talk about,” you finally admitted, voice cracking on the last word.

“back in kansas, things were... bad. really bad.”

“what do you mean?” alexia’s voice was a whisper, gentle but urging you to continue. she stepped closer, her hand on your shoulder now, warm and steady.

you bit your lip, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill.

“my teammates—they hated me. from the minute i got there, they acted like i was the opponent that happened to sneak into their dressing room. i thought maybe it was just... i don't know, maybe i did something wrong. but no matter what i did, they just got worse. they... they bullied me. on the field, off the field... they’d make comments, call me fat, trash my stuff, physically go after me during practice.” you took a shaky breath, your shoulders trembling.

“they hated me for being good– for being called up to the world cup before some of their veterans did. they said i didn’t deserve the call ups at all, that i was useless. every single day felt like... like a war that i was going to lose.”

alexia’s face hardened, and for a second, you thought you saw anger glistening in her eyes.

“and your coaches?” she asked, voice tight with anger. “they did nothing?”

“they... didn’t care,” you said, shaking your head.

“if anything, they made it worse. told me to toughen up, to get used to it, that it was part of being a pro. so i did. i tried to act like it didn’t bother me. but it did. every day, it did.”

there was a heavy silence. alexia didn’t speak for a moment, letting your words hang in the air. and then, she pulled you into a hug—tight, secure, like she was trying to shield you from all the pain you had gone through.

you stiffened for a second, unaccustomed to the softness, the genuine care, but then melted into it, burying your face in her shoulder.

“you don’t have to go through that alone anymore,” she whispered.

“this is your home now, y/n. we’re your family. i promise you—no one will ever treat you like that again. not while i’m here, and i am going to be here for a very long time.”

you felt the tears slide down your face, but they weren’t tears of pain anymore.

they were relief, a feeling you hadn’t let yourself feel for a long time. when she finally let go, alexia cupped your face, making sure you were looking right into her eyes.

“you are so much more than what they made you feel,” she said firmly, her voice laced with emotion. “and if anyone even tries to make you feel like that again, they’ll have to go through me. through all of us. okay?”

you nodded, a small, shaky smile breaking through. “okay.”

“did you go to anyone on your national team about this?” alexia asked, hoping you did.

“i did. alex was the one who encourage me to move clubs. trinity even promised to smash kansas when they go to washington dc to play against spirit.” you laughed, wiping a stray tear from your face.

she laughed back, squeezing your hands. “we’ve got your back, y/n. always.”

and she meant it. over the coming weeks, you felt the shift.

after that talk, alexia made it a point to check in on you.

the small gestures from the team slowly healed the wounds you didn't think would ever close.

when ingrid left you notes in your locker before every match with scribbled encouragements, kika making it a routine to kiss you on the head when you scored a goal past aitana in training, or when mapi pulled you into a bear hug after a tough game reminding you that she is proud of you– you felt at home.

masterlist

#barcelona femeni #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #fc barcelona #alexia putellas #mapi leon #ingrid engen #kika nazareth #trinity rodman

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ashwhowrites · 2 months ago

Note

Can you do one where Eddie and the reader are in a secret relationship and Eddie wants to make it public but the reader doesn’t and he feels insecure about it but in reality the reader doesn’t want him to get picked on.They get into a big fight but they make up please and thank you 💖💘

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Ending isn't proofread whatsoever

To be ready

Y/N and Eddie agreed to keep their relationship a secret for the beginning. They wanted to date and get to know each other without everyone getting in their business.

Eddie struggled with it once they reached their five month anniversary. He felt like it was long enough and he was ready to express his feelings for her with no shame. Y/N was a little bit more nervous but she agreed, it felt like the right time.

"You ready?" Eddie asked, the smile on his face full of excitment. Her heart warmed knowing how badly he wanted to show her off, and their relationship. This was going to be their first public moment, and the first time he will introduce her to his band.

She gripped his hand, nerves filling her body. "Yes," she smiled, even though she was terrified. All she had to do was meet new people, it couldn't go that bad, right?

He walked them through the back of the bar, a small gig for the band. He walked into the small backroom and she slipped in behind. She saw a group of some boys and girls, all talking.

"Well, look who finally showed up. And not alone," one of the guys said, teasing Eddie. Eddie's face responded in a blush.

"Gareth, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Baby, this is Gareth, one of my best friends."

Y/N released his hand to kindly shake Gareth's hand.

"It's nice to meet you," Gareth replied.

She met the rest of the band, and the band's girlfriends. Or groupies, if she was honest. A few gave her dirty looks and it made her nervous. She couldn't help but notice how opposite she was from them. Their clothes were different, the way they talked and carried themselves.

Once the show started, the boys went on stage and the girls joined the crowd. Y/N was in awe watching her boyfriend perform. She forgot about all the girls, just focused on him. As the show ended, she excused herself to the bathroom.

She headed back out to the crowd. Everyone was spacing out now that the entertainment was done. She spotted the girls from earlier waiting by the back doors, where the band would be. She headed over to join them as they waited.

"How long do you think they've been together?"

"Who knows, but I would've kept her hidden. She is so not his type," the three girls snickered. Y/N frowned as it was clear they were talking about her.

"I know! I'm not sure how she managed to pull that off"

"She must have a great personality"

"Isn't he worried she's going to ruin his whole sexy rockstar look? She'll only bring him down. He should be with someone as attractive as he is"

Y/N felt a lump in her throat. She began to second guess the whole thing. They let a few people know and everything she feared that would happen was happening. Eddie was getting looked down on because of her.

Insecurity and anxiety filled her. She felt much less ready to share their relationship with more people. She was back craving their nights alone in his bed, where no one had thoughts on them. As the girl's laughter began to get louder, she ran out.

She grounded herself against the wall, inhaling the smoke as a few people blew their cigarettes. The door opened and she saw her boyfriend looking around, with worry in his eyes. Once his eyes landed on her, his gaze softened.

"There you are, what's wrong?" he asked, as he got closer he noticed her tears. She sniffled and wiped her face, a fake smile sent his way.

"Nothing! I just needed some air," she said but Eddie gave her a look.

"Fine," she sighed, "I'm second-guessing telling people about us."

"It's been an hour. We have to try longer than that before giving up," he argued. She feared where the conversation would go knowing Eddie had been growing more annoyed as the months went by.

"I know, but those girls...I'm not like them, Eddie."

"No one said you had to be, all you have to do is be yourself. Let's go in, have a drink, and try," he said holding out his hand.

"I don't feel ready for that, Eddie. I'm sorry. I thought I could do this but I can't." She flinched as Eddie's face hardened. He puffed air out of his nose and rubbed a hand over his face.

It was clear he was agitated, and she felt horrible for causing it.

"When will you be?" Eddie snapped, his force harsher than he intended. "Six months? A year?"

"I don't know," she said as she rubbed her temples. She hated the way she felt and how hard everything felt.

"Do you even want to be with me?" he asked, his face falling. His words were much softer, a little more broken.

"Of course I do!" Y/N gasped, moving closer as he cupped his face in her hands.

"Then why can't you tell other people that?" he looked up at the sky as he tried to keep his emotions back. But the familiar feeling of not being good enough was creeping in.

"I can, Eddie. But dating me, telling people, I've been scared people will pick on you. And I was right! Those girls said everything I feared," she explained. She figured her honesty would help him understand but she gulped when he stepped back and removed her hands from his face.

"Y/N, I've been picked on all my life. I don't give a shit about what people have to say, and you shouldn't either," Eddie explained.

"I don't think I can just ignore it!" Y/N exclaimed, "their words have weight. I'm not like you, I can't shove away people's opinions and thoughts about me and us."

"I think we have different mindsets of being in this relationship," Eddie whispered, he feared he couldn't talk louder without a sob breaking through.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm in this relationship to be with you, to love you and be happy with you. The only person I care about is you, the only person's that thoughts matter to me is you. You can't say the same." Y/N panicked at his words. The look in his eyes and the goodbye tone in his voice.

"But I do!" she tried to argue

Eddie laughed bitterly and scoffed. She moved passed the way his reaction snapped her heart in half. "You don't care about me. If you did, you wouldn't be breaking us up."

"YOU ARE!" Y/N yelled, tears building in her eyes.

"I DON'T WANT TO BE A SECRET!" Eddie yelled back. He took a deep breath as he tried to calm himself. "You're worried about how others will treat me because of you? What about you? What about how you're treating me. You know all I want is for us to be together, no secrets and no shame. And you can't get over yourself to give me that."

"I understand I'm hurting you but can't you understand where I'm coming from? I tried Eddie and I realized I need more time, why can't you give me time?" she argued, her tears turning hot and angry.

"I've given you time, way damn more time than I would have ever needed," Eddie sighed. "Once you feel ready, maybe we'll figure it out."

She covered her mouth as she let out a small cry. Her heart pounded as she took in his heartbroken state. "Are we breaking up?" She whimpered.

Eddie nodded as he tucked his lip into his mouth. He put his hands in his pockets as a way of comfort. "Yeah, baby. We are."

Y/N bit her lip to silence her cries as Eddie walked back into the bar. She wanted to run after him and beg for him to stay. But he was right, he deserved someone better.

She blinked back as many tears as she could and walked to the nearest bus station. She sat on the bus, alone and crying, her heart wishing nothing more than to be in Eddie's van with his hand on her thigh.

~~~

With the summer heat, Y/N felt more miserable. She felt suffocated in her room, with too many memories of Eddie. And she couldn't escape outside without a sunburn.

It's been a long month of nothing from Eddie. Which made sense, he wasn't chasing her. She was chasing him. She was the one who had to make the move. She knew the longer she took to figure it out the faster he would run.

As she stared at her ceiling fan, she wondered if any of it was worth it. She's never felt this much pain in her life, and she was the cause of all of it. She had the power to fix it and she was wasting time.

She was getting sick of herself. Hating herself for what she did and continued to do. She missed him, and might even love him.

Eddie tried to seem like the world didn't crash on him. Tried to smile and act like he wasn't falling apart on the inside. But in reality, Eddie couldn't stand being alone. Her scent followed him everywhere and he missed the feeling of her. He missed her hands, her kiss, her body, everything. But he couldn't go back, she needed to come to him. He hoped that she realized her mistake, that this week of silence was her finding out how to come back.

The show ended and Eddie could hear his thoughts again. Not wanting to, he headed to the bar. He sat down on the stool with a heavy sigh and ordered a beer.

"Still pouting about her?"

Eddie turned as a girl's voice talked into his ear. He rolled his eyes as he looked back at his beer.

"Leave me alone,," Eddie sighed. He definitely wasn't in the mood. But she didn't listen. Instead, she dragged the barstool out and took a seat next to him.

"You're too good for her, anyway. She should have been delighted to have you on her arm," the random girl said.

Eddie eyed her weirdly, having no idea how the news of his ex-secret girlfriend began spreading. But he shook it off and went back to his beer. She talked his ear off for around an hour. Eddie was on his fifth beer as he tried to zone out the noise.

Y/N walked into the bar, feeling uneasy as the last time she was here went horribly. She scanned the crowd, her eyes easily finding him, but he wasn't alone.

A girl was seated beside him, way too close for Y/N's comfort. She was perched up, talking in his ear. Y/N's plan was to have a conversation but the jealousy overpowered everything. She was glad to see that Eddie wasn't entertaining the girl.

Eddie felt his body being spun around on his stool in a flash. Sudden arms wrapped around his neck and soft lips on his. He was surprised to see the lips belonged to Y/N. He instantly kissed back, enjoying the force of her lips against his.

She held on to him as if he was going to disappear. Her heart raced when his arms circled around her waist. He spread his legs, allowing her body to stand between them. She moaned as his tongue slipped inside her mouth, making her warm all over.

They pulled away, and Eddie couldn't wipe the smile off of his face.

"What was that?" He asked, he wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or her that made his head feel dizzy.

"I'm ready. And I'm sorry for not being ready when you needed me to be. But I can't imagine my life without you. I love you and I want us to be together, no shame or secrets." Y/N said, she turned her head and saw the girl had vanished. She looked back at him, their bodies tangled.

"I love you too, baby," his lips smashed on hers. Knocking the air out of her lungs, but she liked the way it burned.

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zepskies · 6 months ago

Text

Lost on You - Part 2

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: As you can see, I switched up the posting schedule slightly (check out the series masterlist for new "coming soon" dates). Thank you, guys so much for all the responses on Part 1! I hope you have just as much fun with Part 2. 😉

Word Count: 5.9K

Tags/Warnings: "Lies, lies, lies, yeah." ‘80s references, a new mission (and violence), cattiness, and some more cat and mouse tension.

🎙️ Series Masterlist || YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 2: Foolish Game

“You know, we really are a family here. The whole Payback team,” Crimson Countess said.

Her voice was filled with earnestness as she held the microphone to her ruby red lips with both gloved hands. She smiled and reached out a hand to you.

“But it’s truly my pleasure to welcome Sirena into the fold. It’s about time we got another badass chick on the team, am I right?”

She knew how to play up the packed crowd in the auditorium. They roused with cheers and clapping, and you stepped closer to her in the spotlight.

It wasn’t entirely an act when you gave them (and several cameras) a somewhat shy smile. You’d been on stages almost all your life, but never one like this. You knew you were being seen by the entire country right now.

On Countess’s other side was Soldier Boy and the TNT Twins, while on your side stood Black Noir, Swatto, and Mindstorm keeping himself in the back. Off at the far left of the stage were Arthur and Madelyn Stillwell, both seemingly patient and professional.

“And you look great, hun. I love the new suit,” Countess said, gesturing at you with a playful air.

You smiled a little more and affected some humility. You tried not to adjust the black mask sitting on the bridge of your nose. It felt like a pair of pool goggles.

“Well, a little leather goes a long way,” you joked into your own mic. It earned some laughs from the sea of flashing lights amidst darkness.

Countess laughed, a sultry sound. “I know that’s right.”

“I’m really just so grateful to be here on this incredible stage with you all,” you said, casting a hand at the rest of the team. “I’m just a girl from a dusty little town in Indiana. Seriously. Imagine Smallville, Kansas, but more tumbleweeds.”

Cue more indulgent laughter. The lie was well-rehearsed on your tongue, along with this next bit, as you looked into the closest camera.

“But if you all see some small greatness in me, then I’m honored and ready to serve,” you finished.

Enthusiastic applause met the end of your little speech. You smiled and lowered the mic. Countess nodded in agreement and offered her mic to Soldier Boy next. He stepped up to the center podium and leaned on it like he was John Wayne.

“Well, it’s a good day when another hero joins our ranks. I have a feeling that Sirena,” he paused, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, “Is gonna be a good fit.”

You didn’t like that smile on his face, but instead of letting that show on yours, you gave him a grateful smile. He had the gall to wink at you. Then he handed the mic back to Arthur and stepped back from the podium.

“All right, one more time, you guys. Let’s hear it for Sirena!” Arthur said to the crowd, and they erupted. You accepted the praise with a demure smile and a congenial wave, like you were Princess Diana or something.

The rest of your team gave perfunctory claps as well, but Soldier Boy was the first to head off stage. Countess and the rest of them followed suit, so you did as well. She and Soldier Boy didn’t even share a glance when she stopped off into the women’s restroom. An idea struck you, and you decided to join her.

“Hey, Countess,” you began to say, but she let out a humorless huff.

“What, are you going to follow me into the fucking stall?” she said dryly.

You were momentarily taken aback by her acidity. You blinked, and she turned to give you a bored look.

“I…just wanted to say that I really look up to you,” you said.

“Do you?” she asked, with a slightly mocking smile. Her gaze briefly ran down your form. “Is that why your suit looks like a Dollar Store knockoff of mine?”

Ah…okay, you thought. You saw what this bitch was about. She’d supported you in the public eye, but she didn’t actually want another woman on the team. She’d been a powerhouse for over a decade, and not just her years at Vought.

But for every icon, there’s the threat of becoming an old has-been, you thought.

“Well, you’ve got a point there. I asked for a cape too, but they thought it was a bit too…retro,” you remarked, hinting at a smile as you gestured at her suit, and the long red cape that draped down her back. “But really, I’m a big fan. I actually grew up watching you when I was a kid. I remember that little documentary you did with Vought Geographic. The one with the baby chimps? So cute.”

Countess’s brow twitched, ever so slightly. Both her fake smile and yours remained the same.

She broke first with a roll of her eyes.

“Just stay out of my way,” she said. Her cape brushed your arm as she breezed past you. Your smile remained until she was out of the room. Then you took a deep breath.

Be careful, you reminded yourself. You had to prove that you wouldn’t easily bend to whatever bullshit might get thrown at you, but you were still the rookie here. You had a feeling that this was just the first test of many.

You kept your guard up, even at the afterparty hosted at a nearby hotel. Tessa followed Countess’s lead and gave you fake smiles when you passed by her. Otherwise, she ignored you. Mindstorm was the only one who seemed truly indifferent towards you. (You barely ever saw him out of his room anyway.)

You couldn’t much tell with Black Noir. He’d never taken his helmet off in the few days since you’d met him, but you sensed nothing but vague interest from him. The other three men were more obvious in the way they looked at you.

In fact, you could’ve predicted the way Soldier Boy found you in a slightly quieter corner of the banquet hall. His gait was relaxed and arrogant as he made his way towards you.

He annoyed you on sight, no matter how damn attractive he was. All broad shouldered and brown hair coiffed, his face mostly clean shaven, save for some stubble. With his military green supe suit, the silver decal of an eagle stretched across his broad chest—he certainly looked the part of America’s first hero. Too bad he was also a chauvinistic ass.

But you also had a plan. It had started to form after that first encounter with him in the break room.

You kept your true thoughts off your face as you turned to greet him. He was holding his fifth tumbler of whiskey, and he smelled like it too. You sipped at a glass of red wine.

“Small town girl, huh?” he said, smiling with old-world charm. “I happen to be a city boy.”

“Born and raised in South Detroit?” you teased. “I didn’t take you for a Journey fan.”

“The mean streets of Philly, actually,” he said, with a tip of his imaginary hat. “I may be a Sinatra kind of guy, but I don’t mind a little rock ‘n roll.”

You inclined your head. “Same here. Not that my parents approved. Growing up, I had to hide my Rolling Stones records under the bed.”

That much was true.

“Ah, a little rebel,” he remarked. His gaze roamed down your form, and back up to your eyes, shaded by smokey makeup. “Who knew they made ‘em like you in Indiana.”

Your lips curved. “It’s not just cows and cornfields.”

“Evidently,” he said, taking a swig of his whiskey. “How do you like the big city so far?”

“To be honest, I haven’t had a chance to see much of it yet. This whole thing has been a whirlwind,” you said.

Lie.

The truth was, you were born and raised in Brooklyn. Maybe you had never lived in Manhattan before, but you were no stranger to the city.

Ben not only ate up the lie; he took the bait.

“Maybe I’ll give you a tour of the city one day,” he said. He thumbed at your chin once again with half-gloved fingers.

You tipped your face up to him, and you smiled.

“I’d like that.”

Your first mission with Payback was not at all what you expected.

To start with, you’d expected to do some patrolling, run down some leads, do some investigating. Instead, they had a Surveillance & Security team to do all of that for the team. Plus, they were patched in via the local police scanner of any new crimes in progress.

Arthur had paged you to come to his office. There he told you that you’d actually be going for your first save today. You were excited, until he told you that you’d be on a “team up” with Crimson Countess.

Great, you thought.

She didn’t look happy about it either, when you met her in the lobby downstairs. She gave you another frigid look before she swiftly exited the double doors.

Stay out of my way. You got the message loud and clear.

A black SUV took you two to the Lower West Side, where there was a robbery in progress. The front window of the jewelry story had been shattered, and tens of thousands of dollars in merchandise stolen by two masked men according to the store clerk. He’d been shot in the shoulder before the men took off. The police had yet to find them.

The most unnerving part of this was the cameras that followed you and Countess while you canvassed the area—like catching criminals was some kind of reality show.

“I think I can feel them,” you said, with your fingers on your temples. “They’re headed south through the alley.”

“Which alley?” she asked, waving a hand at the several blocks ahead of you. “And what do you mean you can feel them?”

You shot her a look, endeavoring not to be snarky. “I can sense them.”

Let’s just say, your powers were particularly potent when it came to men. That’s what allowed you to feel the robbers’ energies, set high with adrenaline. They were close.

You pointed the way, and Countess begrudgingly went along with it.

“Follow my lead though,” she said.

You agreed in the moment, but you were filled with maybe too much anticipation and excitement yourself when you turned the corner into the alley without waiting for your companion.

You found yourself staring down the barrel of a gun.

You froze, your breath stilling in your lungs. The safety clicked, and the man holding the weapon quirked his head.

“Haven’t seen you before,” he drawled.

“But you know me. Don’t you, handsome?”

Countess’s fist landed squarely across the man’s jaw. He yelped as the weapon clattered out of his hand. You jumped back as the gun fired, ricochetting off the brick wall. Countess rolled her eyes and tossed a fireball at the next man, who jumped out of his hiding place behind the dumpster. He screamed and dove to the side.

She didn’t wait for him to recover. Grabbing him by the collar with a gloved hand, she threw one hard punch that broke the man’s jaw. You winced at the telltale cracking sound. The other man just held his hands up in surrender, wide-eyed and afraid. You felt his fear radiating off of him. With another swift punch, she knocked him out as well.

You could only stand there with your mouth open in surprise. You managed to close it when Countess turned your way.

“I told you to follow my damn lead,” she said coolly.

The police filtered in shortly after, as did the camera crew. The director sighed at Countess.

“This was supposed to be Sirena’s first save,” he said. Countess turned to him with a sharp look.

“Train her fucking better then,” she snapped.

You chewed the inside of your lip, but you fought not to outwardly show your embarrassment. Why’d they have to partner you with her, for fuck’s sake?

The car ride back to the Tower was just as tense and silent. At least there was a black partition between you two in the backseat and the driver.

Finally, you sighed and tried to offer an olive branch.

“Look, I’m sorry. I just got a bit excited,” you said.

“You almost got yourself killed,” she drawled, not even looking at you as she gazed boredly out the window. “Even that would’ve been a challenge for the PR team.”

Your lips pursed in irritation. Oh, my God. Is she that insecure?

“Countess, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m not trying to replace you. I’m not trying to take anything from you.”

“Except my boyfriend,” she shot back. Finally she turned her head towards you with cool disdain. “You think I didn’t see you flirting with him last night at the afterparty?”

You rolled your eyes, though you hid a sliver of embarrassment. You should’ve known she’d spot that.

“He approached me, okay?” you said. Maybe you were about to let your pettiness to get the best of you, but you couldn’t help it. You smiled slyly. “And from what I hear, I’m the least of your worries. Looks like Ben has quite the appetite.”

The cracks of Countess’s cool façade finally broke through to anger. She glared at you tightly.

“He may have his little toys, but they never last long,” she said pointedly. “The only reason he’s giving you the time of day is because you’re new, and shiny, and full of silicon.”

“And young,” you added with a wink. “Don’t forget young.”

She seethed, and you were almost concerned that she might toss a fireball your way. Mercifully, the car rolled to a stop in the back entrance to the Tower to make it easier to navigate past any paparazzi. You slid out on your side, and you didn’t bother waiting for Countess when you went back inside the Tower.

All the way back up the elevator to your floor, you thought about the way you’d frozen at the sight of the man’s gun. You did have proper combat training. Your dad had paid for the lessons.

“You’re gonna pay us back one day,” as he’d said. “We’re investing in our future, just as much as yours.”

You shook your head and sighed. You should have grabbed the robber’s arm and reached for any flash of skin you could touch to compel him into submission.

The thought continued to unsettle you as you went into the breakroom first for something to eat. You ended up making yourself a sandwich and sat down at the nearby dining table with an unsweetened tea. Swatto happened to fly in for a coke and an old slice of pizza. When he noticed you, his insect-like wings folded back into his back after he landed on the ground.

Out of everyone, his suit looked the most cumbersome with the big shoulder armor and the condom-like mask over half his face. You understood why he wasn’t wearing it now. He was dressed down in an old Ramones shirt and a pair of jeans. He ran his fingers through his short hair and slid into the chair closest to you.

“Hey. How’s it going, beautiful?” he asked, with what was likely meant to be a charming smile.

You were close enough to sense his salacious thoughts. You restrained a sigh. Ordinarily you’d entertain him a bit more, but frankly, he was making a bad day worse and you weren’t in the mood.

So you smiled. While your hand slid over his on the table, you leaned in close to his ear.

“Shoo, fly,” you said. Your words held power as your eyes glowed violet.

Immediately, you felt the way Swatto’s body sat up straighter. With a blankness falling over his face, he got up from the table and left the way he came, forgetting his snacks on the table.

You shook your head and continued eating your sandwich in peace.

A few minutes later, there came an even rarer sighting—Mindstorm snuck into the breakroom next. He glanced at you with wary eyes, like a deer pausing before it took a drink from the pool. When you just stared at him in slight bewilderment, he quickly rucked through the cupboards for a bag of Bugles labeled:

MINDSTORM’S – DO NOT EAT!

As if anyone would want to steal a bag of Bugles.

Just when you opened your mouth to offer him some kind of greeting, Mindstorm quickly ducked out of the room. You blinked in confusion.

“Odd,” you said to yourself. “So very odd.”

“Right?” came a voice behind you. You screamed and nearly jumped out of your skin, but you realized it was only Black Noir, holding a beer.

“Jesus…” You held a hand over your beating heart. It wasn’t the first time he’d snuck up on you like that. Can this guy wear a bell or something?

“Don’t mind him. He’s got a few dozen screws loose,” said Noir.

Unlike the other two, he was fully suited up. However, he took his helmet off and set it on the table so he could drink. You held in a breath, as you were pleasantly surprised to see the face of a handsome black man. It was the first time you’d ever seen him unmasked.

Wonder what else he’s hiding under there, you thought. Your gaze briefly dipped down his chest and strong-looking thighs.

You both chatted over small things at first. According to Noir, Mindstorm’s apartment was completely soundproof, but it didn’t do much good for the guy, since he had a hard time keeping people’s thoughts out of his head. You thought New York City was probably a terrible place for him to live, in that case.

“And you’re smalltown, right?” Noir asked.

You offered a half-smile. “Guilty.”

“Yeah, same here,” he said, raising his beer. “From a nowhere town in Georgia.”

For the first time, you felt slightly bad for keeping up the lie. Noir seemed like a decent guy so far. You clinked your iced tea with his beer.

“Well, Nowhere, it’s nice to find a kindred spirit,” you said.

You two drank for a bit in a comfortable silence, until he turned to you with curiosity in his dark brown eyes as he took you in.

“So, what made you want to join Payback? The pay, or the free shit?” he asked.

You quirked a smile. You decided to give him the easiest answer he’d believe.

“Well, the free shit is a big perk. But…as vapid as it sounds, I wanted to get out of the background, make a name for myself,” you said. Noir nodded.

“Believe me, I get it. Around here, it can be hard to stand out,” he said. His brows knitted together while he stared hard at the table. You watched him, wondering what he meant.

After a beat, he perked up and met your gaze. “You know, I’ve been wanting to pitch a movie idea to Arthur.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, just trying to…you know, find the right words.”

Your expression eased, and you crossed your arms and turned towards him.

“Okay, let’s go then,” you said, waving at him in a bring it on gesture.

Noir’s brows popped up. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, why not?” you said. “Give me your best elevator pitch.”

Black Noir stood up from the table, nearly knocking over his empty beer bottle as he went. You grabbed it so it wouldn’t tip over. You were amused by his slightly flustered state. He set his hands on his hips and couldn’t quite meet your eyes when he started speaking.

“So, I’m thinking it could be like 48 Hours meets Trading Places. Except instead of a wise-cracking criminal or a guy down on his luck, I’m like, a wise-cracking ninja.”

“But ninjas don’t typically talk, do they?” you said. Clearly this guy had a thing for Eddie Murphy. “Aren’t they supposed to be stealthy?”

Noir raised a finger. “Okay, yes, but it’s a comedy. So that’s the ironic part, in a funny way.”

“So you’ll make witty quips before you kill your targets?” you said, holding in a laugh. You brandished an invisible sword. “‘You’re gonna need a new carpet.’ Fshh.”

You mimed a cutting motion, then blood spraying from your neck as you made some mock death throes. Noir stared at you blandly. You bit your lip.

And you were the first one to break with a laugh. The sound was infectious enough to break him too though. Noir couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle along with you.

You were almost too distracted to hear a pair of heavy boots, and sense the male presence at the door. You turned at the flash of green in the corner of your eye.

Of course, the cast wouldn’t be complete without Soldier Boy. Or Ben, as he’d insisted you call him.

His gaze roamed the room with feigned disinterest, but you could tell when he looked over at you and Noir that he wasn’t pleased. He clung to stoicism as he approached your table with his usual gait: calm, controlled, and arrogant.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked with a raise of his brow. “Could hear you all the way down the hall.”

“Just working on a pitch for Noir’s new movie,” you said, though the man in question gave you a hard stare. One that warned you to stop talking.

“Noir’s new movie?” Ben said, with a curl of his lip. He turned to the other man. “Trying to compete with Red Thunder before it’s even out in the box office? That’s not very good form.”

“No, no. Of course not,” said Noir. “Just…throwing some ideas around.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard. Some kind of samurai bullshit,” Ben said dryly. His green-eyed gaze was sharp, however. “Why don’t you stop wasting people’s time on tragic fucking ideas, and find something actually fucking useful to do.”

You watched carefully between the two men. Was there some kind of bad blood here?

Noir’s lips pursed, but despite the spark of anger in his eyes, he kept it all inside when he lowered them. He got up from the table and left without another word, putting on his helmet as he went.

Ben shook his head and drew closer to you. You frowned up at him as you stood and crossed your arms below your breasts.

“Well, that wasn’t very kind,” you remarked.

“This is the real world, sweetheart. He still needs to learn his place on this team,” Ben replied. But then, his charm was back. His face eased into a smile. “I’m glad I found you. It’s time I made good on my promise.”

You tilted your head. “What promise?”

“To take you out,” he said. “Give you a little tour of the city.”

After that little display, you had even less interest to spend any more time with this man than absolutely necessary…

Remember the plan, you reluctantly reminded yourself.

“Come on,” he prodded, extending a hand out to you. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Releasing a breath, you uncrossed your arms and slipped your hand into his.

“Okay. I would appreciate you showing me around,” you said, giving him a smile with some feminine charm of your own.

His lips curved into a grin. He raised your hand up to his lips, and despite yourself, his stubble ignited small tingles across your skin.

“Meet me downstairs in half an hour,” he said.

After taking the time to change out of your supe suit and into something dressier, reapplying your makeup and fixing up your hair, you met Ben downstairs out front. He was waiting for you there on a motorcycle, of all things.

“Really?” you asked, giving the vehicle a dubious look. “I thought you’d be a limo kind of guy.”

“Oh, I am. But today we need speed if we’re going to cover the whole city,” he said with a grin. He revved the engine, and it let out a loud, rumbling sound. It looked like a death trap.

“I don’t know, Ben,” you said, for the first time using his name. You were actually nervous enough to show it.

He chuckled and motioned you over. Reluctantly, you went to him. His hand smoothed down your arm and held your elbow. He peered into your eyes.

“You think I’m going to let you fall on my watch?” he said.

You held his gaze. Eventually, you bit your lower lip, and you accepted his offer of a helmet (even though he was going without one), then his helping hand to climb onto the motorcycle behind him. You tentatively held onto his waist.

“That ain’t gonna cut it, baby doll,” he said. He grabbed your hands and tugged you closer, until your arms wrapped around his middle. You made a small sound of surprise, feeling the solidness of his frame. You had a feeling he was grinning.

“All right, hold on,” he warned, revving the engine once again.

Your teeth clenched with dread. “Please, go slooow—ahhh!”

Ben peeled out of the curved landing in front of Vought Tower with a screech of tires. You gripped onto his jacket like a lifeline and pressed yourself to his back as closely as you could—something you were sure was his intention.

You sensed his amusement, though he at least had the decency not to laugh at you. He merged onto the street and zipped through the layers traffic, heading towards the center of the city.

Ben didn’t just show you the city. He showed you his world.

He first took you to Top of the Rock at Rockefeller Center. Instead of the normal group tour to the observational deck, he had a short chat with management that had them letting you two up to an even higher level, into an exclusive bar. It was apparently so high up that only twenty people could be inside at a time.

You two enjoyed a couple of drinks along with the amazing view of the city, and of Empire State across the way.

“You don’t get views like this in Indiana, do you?” Ben asked.

You nodded indulgently. “You do not.”

Never mind that you had never even been to Indiana. Yet, you had also never seen the city like this either.

“Thank you for taking me out like this,” you said. You reached out and softly touched his hand. You met his eyes with a subtle smile. “I didn’t know what to expect when I got here, but you’ve been really nice to me. Makes me think I can actually belong here.”

He seemed pleased as he sipped his drink, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“What can I say? I’m a nice guy,” he said.

You smiled, affecting demure as you ducked your head. It was an act you’d long ago perfected. Men tended to underestimate you, and you always used that to your advantage.

From there, he took you to clubs you’d never even knew existed, then to a restaurant so old, it still had a dress code. (And it was the best surf and turf you’d ever had in your life.)

When you got to Times Square, however, you were delayed practically an hour by all the fans who wanted Soldier Boy’s autograph. Once the first couple of young women recognized him, even out of his suit, it was all downhill as more and more people got excited by the world’s most famous superhero.

You stood off to the side, watching him be flirtatious to women of all ages, ruffling kids’ hair, and shaking hands with men, and even veterans who thanked him for his service.

You signed a couple of autographs and took some pictures with people yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be recognized as much. You had to be content with waiting for Ben off to the side. Though admittedly, you were getting bored and more than a little annoyed that he was taking so long.

He seemed to realize it when he finally looked your way.

“Hey, Sirena!” he called out to you by your supe name, drawing your attention in front of a few of his fans. He waved you over, and even introduced you to the small crowd still gathered around him. He set a hand on your lower back.

“I’m sure you all know about Sirena, the newest member of our team,” he said. You looked up at him with some measure of gratefulness. Maybe this part of the day was working in your favor even more than you’d thought.

You intentionally leaned closer to him, laying a semi-innocent hand on his arm as you smiled at the others.

“I’m taking some time to show her around,” he continued, glancing down at you. “She’s from a small town, so this city can be pretty daunting. But it’s my home. My favorite place in the world. Especially because I get to see all of you.”

He swept a hand out towards the crowd, and they ate it up with cheers, clapping, and some flirtatious whistling. He shot a wink and a raised finger at that one.

“If you’ll excuse us,” he said, with one last parting hand at the people. He ushered you back onto the motorcycle, and off you went.

He was trying his damndest.

He wore that fake, debonair charm like a second skin as he got you a private tour of the Met, and treated you to rich food and expensive wine. He was showing off his wealth, his fame, and giving you the “best” of him.

However, you had already seen glimpses of the true man underneath the gaudy show. And it was ugly, with an edge of darkness.

You had that thought in the back of your mind, even while you two sat side by side on a ledge. He’d brought you to a spot near the Hudson River, close to an overpass. It wasn’t an area meant for parking (according to the No Parking sign), but he didn’t seem to care.

Neither did you, really. The view was too beautiful, with the large orange sun halfway sunk below the water. It cast shades of yellow and red and purple across the sky, even over the dark waters.

Ben was working on his third hotdog. You were licking your way around a scoop of cookies and cream ice cream on a waffle cone, letting the end of it swirl off your tongue. You resisted a smile, feeling the warmth of his gaze on the side of your face.

“So tell me,” he said, after he finished off his snack. He crumpled his napkin and tossed it somewhere behind him. “I heard you were making a name for yourself as a singer. What made you want to join Payback?”

He was giving you a little too much credit. You’d been making your money by being a background singer for various artists, but your last big break going on Whitney Houston’s latest tour was what finally put you on Vought’s map.

You considered his question with a tilt of your head. Black Noir had asked you the same thing, more or less. You’d given him an easy, predictable answer. With Ben, you edged closer to the truth...or part of it, anyway.

“I don’t just want people to know who I am,” you said. “I want to be remembered for something good. I want to prove it to my family too, that I can do it. …Is that naïve?”

Ben hummed in understanding, though he shot you a certain look.

“Not if you play your cards right,” he said.

His leading tone didn’t surprise you. You slid him a smile.

“And how should I do that?” you asked. You turned to him, setting your finished cone aside. Ben took the opportunity to reach out and draw a line down your cheek with his thumb. He wiped a small smear of chocolate from the corner of your mouth.

He smirked. “By sticking close to me, baby doll.”

You had to admit, his proximity was stirring you more than you liked. He was devastatingly handsome, and he knew it too. With his face inching so close to yours, it was hard for you to remember the things this man had said about you to Arthur, how he clearly didn’t give a fuck about Countess, and even what a dick he'd been to Black Noir.

Not to mention, how he acted all the time, as if the whole world was his.

Just as his lips neared yours, you leaned back. Your eyes met his knowingly.

“You already have someone close to you,” you pointed out. “What about Countess?”

Ben stilled. He sighed, but he didn’t let go of your cheek. He traced your jawline with the sensuous promise of a practiced hand. It made your breath difficult in your lungs, rising into your throat.

“Ah, Donna,” he shook his head. “We’ve been on the rocks for a while now.”

I’m sure, you thought wryly.

“What you and I have, right here, right now,” he said, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your cheek. “It’s special. The moment I saw you, a pure connection.”

Your brows furrowed. Those words triggered some kind of familiarity in you. A pure connection…

Wait, isn’t that a line from one of his movies? you thought. Oh yeah, A Gentleman’s Promise. 1949.

You had to bite your lip to stifle your laughter. This man did not just quote himself.

Ben took your reaction for a different kind of inner conflict, as he continued pressing tantalizing kisses down your neck. You cleared your throat a little, fighting a sigh of pleasure.

Stick to the plan, you thought.

Because he was right. The fastest way for you to get what you wanted was to be close to him, to use his status to your advantage. Timing was everything, however.

You slipped your hands between you two and pressed gently, but firm against his chest.

“Ben,” you implored.

You were grateful that he actually stopped. His lips stilled against your skin, and he pulled away with a frown.

“What?” he said.

You looked up at him through your lashes, before you leaned in, stopping just shy of his lips.

“Maybe I’ll consider your offer when there’s a real place for me by your side,” you said with a smile. Then you backed off.

You gathered yourself and stood, coyly sauntering back to the motorcycle. You’d wait for him there.

Ben turned to watch you go, unwilling to admit he was both equally aroused and irritated. His jaw clenched, then eased.

After a moment, he joined you and drove you back to the Tower in silence. All the while, he couldn’t stop thinking. About your lips, your eyes, your voice, your soft body, your smile, and worst of all, the way you’d denied him. For fuck’s sake, you’d given him an ultimatum.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had that kind of audacity, let alone a woman. He wouldn’t let show, or even admit to himself, how much it affected him. But the same thought kept turning through his mind as the streets of New York passed by in a blur.

Just who the fuck does she think she is?

AN: 😅 Lol Ben's got his work cut out for him. Think he'll be able to figure out her game?

Next Time:

“What’s in it for me then?” he asked, crossing his arms.

You blinked your eyes wider. Really?

“I doubt whatever you’re thinking, Soldier,” you said, a little more snidely than you meant to.

Ben's cocky smile said it all.

Your lips pursed in exasperation. You hadn’t thought you would have to bargain to get him to be nice to a kid.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Clearly you’ve had a long day, so I’ll just get out of your way,” you said, raising your hands in surrender. You turned to leave.

“All right, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he said.

You paused at the door, tossing him an annoyed look over your shoulder.

His smile deepened. “I’ll do it.”

His steps were measured as he approached you. You turned back to face him, albeit warily. As he seemed to like doing, he gently grasped your chin between his fingers.

“I’ll do it for a kiss,” he said.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Series Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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evilminji · 10 months ago

Text

Broadway :3c

And I hear ya. (Insert spooky joke here) There is a sprawling WEB of central hubs, for The Arts. For trade. For getting drunk and having a good time. The Zone is large and it is endless. You'll NEVER reach the far end. It can never reach you.

All things, in gentle sweeping waves, across eternity.

So when folks want to have "a market" or "a movie theater" or "the waterpark"? You gotta PICK a point on the endless map. Figure if you are close or far enough away for others like it, to make it worth the effort to build.

You might even be the first to do it for GALAXIES in any direction! People might fly for WEEKS to come to your place! Move their Lairs to be closer too it. Like dust gathered by gravity, slowly creating planets and stars. A mega Lair. A CITY.

They rise, they fall, the Zone shifts all the while.

But!

Does the dead starlet stop singing? Does getting gunned down, stop the show?? I think NOT! Where is her STAGE? What musicals? What dramas? What operas and tragedies and forms unknown to human kind??! Ballet dancers who CAN defy gravity! Singers who have no NEED for air! The haunting blend of instruments, that could never in life have met! From empires long turned to ASH!

The greatest show in DEATH!

Ember was a world wide hit. Yes, her voice was hypnotic. But that could be FOUGHT. It was SKILL that carried the game. And she was hardly "I was Literally The Greatest My Planet Ever Produced" skilled. She was good, great even. Not "I was Born For Greatness" Excellence.

And like?

.....eventually? Danny's gonna ask after "cultural-y" Culture stuff. Clothes and food. Music and the arts. To help his parents get used to the whole "our son is half-dead" thing. To show he's not some mindless monster now.

And? Ghostwriter? Probably an absolute legend. Does he know where you can find some CULTURE? Oh THANK ZONE! He thought you'd NEVER ask! You unsophisticated-! *fist fight in a library* Still a dick, though. Always and forever.

And just? Imagine Broadway stretched out into a floating city. That never sleeps. Never stops. Shows ever changing. Some on a cycle, some only once. Dream-like. Beautiful. Eye catching.

And yeah, Danny didn't think he LIKED musicals. It was more of a Jazz thing. But? This was important! Gotta get the whole family in the Speeder. We're going to see a play, guys! We'll pick when we get there! Family road trip! Educational! We can make notes!

His parents are trying to be supportive. Big, fixed, strained grins. Trying to pretend to be excited. But they... DO seem reluctantly intrigued? And Jazz is all but vibrating in her seat. It's basically her "before you go away to college" present. And she is THRILLED.

The longer she excitedly speculates? The more into it she gets their folks. This IS gonna be new! Exciting! Never before seen Ghost Culture! Music! As a FAMILY! Think we could find souvenirs? Ooooh, wonder if they sell CDs??!

Then? They GET there. And it's... it's like seeing the Las Vegas strip for the first time, except multiplied into a city. Made of even MORE styles and eras. At angles gravity would never allow.

The air filled with laughter and excitement, people rushing to shows or humming bits of tunes. Street stalls. Fountains. Flowers growing everywhere.

They could stay for months and not even reach a fraction of these buildings. His parents are taking countless photos. His sister squeeling with joy as she races for an information kiosk like they just arrived at Disneyland. He, at least, remembers to lock up the Speeder. Grab their day bags.

When did HE become the responsible one?

The argue over shows. Obviously. Wouldn't be Fenton's otherwise. HE wants to see the alien one. It's from mars! But it's his sister's trip, as his dad points out, so she gets to choose. She picks a musical set during the Fall of Krpton. He's... reluctantly kinda interested. I mean, EVERYBODY likes Superman, right?

It's... it's amazing. Terrible, but amazing. I mean? A coming of age story cut tragically short? Oof. Hello, massively projecting then getting FEELS about it! Yeah, sure, rip my heart out why don't you? He's fine. No, really! Just drowning in his own emotions over here. The refrain of "A Life Well Lived"? *gargling dying whale noises* he's FINE. Not grappling with anything! Go on without him!

Thankfully?

They DO sell CDs.

He... he may end up, kinda, getting a bit of a collection. Going on the weekends, hoping show to show. Wandering to whichever catches his eye in the moment. Buying the CDs for one's he likes. Which? Honestly is a lot of them. Even though there's all sorts of genres and languages. Cause it... it RESONATES you know?

The grief. The anger. The "I have died but I wasn't FINISHED. It isn't FAIR.". And? Something about ghost speak flows so BEAUTIFULLY in song? It's hard to explain. But he... he needs them.

A pair of headphones, a CD, and a clear night sky? Nothing touches it. It's like a trance made of light. Like he can just drift.

The problem? Is the CDs are kinda... Zone made? They're radioactive, for one. Nothing a Fenton CD player can't handle. But... they? Also? Kinda fuckin GLOW? Like... very, very noticeably. And not in a "ha ha, cool glow in the dark paint!" Sorta way.

.........but like FUCK is he leaving his music behind when he goes to college. Gotham will have to deal. It's already a burning shit-nado, it can handle this. Probably. He'll put um in a lead lined box. Actually, speaking OF.... he needs to get a few more of those... *goes back to packing*

Which? Is how? The Bats are treated to some of the most HAUNTING music they've ever heard, belted and crooned from Some Guy's speakers, out an open window, on the "stop for a mid-patrol drink of water and a snack" building. It's one of the intersections of their patrol routes. And THAT? That is some dude listening to a Romani ballad about death and the circus. Now it's a musical about the trenches of an obscure war.

Okay, that was DEFINITELY Kryptonian. Like... coherent Krypto- *Bruce gets a call from Clark on his "work" number DEMANDING to know where that is coming from. Who is that voice Bruce?!* huh.... Well Then.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @spidori @mutable-manifestation @the-witchhunter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #minji's writing #broadway of the Zone au #Danny's music au

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ddejavvu · 3 months ago

Note

i just read your drabble about Darry being sweet on pregnant reader and I love the part where he says he will lift her stomach up if the baby got too heavy 😭 can we pls have another drabble where he does that

send me requests for the outsiders!

It's pretty impossible for you to wash the dishes at this stage of your pregnancy. Your belly provides an immovable barrier between you and the kitchen counter, and leaning over into the sink puts uncomfortable pressure against your stomach that makes you nervous. Not to mention the backache from hunching over- doing the dishes is simply not in your wheelhouse anymore.

That doesn't mean you can't dry them, though. You can take a towel and wipe the water droplets off of the glasses once Darry is done washing, and you can set them neatly on the counter if you can't manage to put them away yourself. You can still contribute to the household, no matter what Darry says.

"Are you out of bed again?" He asks, his voice coming from the bathroom as he exits the shower. He's a little more forward thinking than Sodapop: he brings his clothes into the bathroom so that he doesn't get caught naked by any unexpected visitors, which means that he's wearing a threadbare sleeping tee that's tight around the chest, plaid pajama pants over his lower half.

"I'm just drying the dishes, Dar." You promise, "Nothing strenuous."

"It looks strenuous." He frowns, brows creasing hard as he looks at your posture. Standing while this heavily pregnant is inherently awkward; you have to hunch yourself to maintain your new center of gravity.

"It's not, honey. I'm okay, I promise."

He studies you for a moment, leaning against the counter on his hip. Then he makes his decision, starting forwards over the small kitchen floor. You think he's reaching for the dish you're drying, trying to take it away from you in another endearingly overbearing attempt to relieve you of moving a single muscle. So you turn away from him, clutching the towel and the dish to your chest as if you could ever fight him off if he truly wanted to take it from you. But his hands slide around your waist and beneath your belly, apparently exactly the angle he'd wanted as he slowly, gently lifts your baby's weight off of your back.

You nearly melt into his chest at the feeling of the relief, an audible sigh leaving your mouth as he holds your pregnant belly off of your tired muscles.

"That feel nice?" He guesses, his voice a soft murmur beside your ear as you lean back against him. You should be more considerate; maybe he doesn't want your entire body weight slung against him while he lifts your baby bump, but he's sturdy and strong nevertheless. It doesn't seem to be a struggle for him.

"It feels so nice, Dar." You hum, feeling your tired muscles loosen and sing with relief from their constant strain, "Love it when you do this."

He presses a chaste kiss against your temple, still unmoving despite your whole body sagging against him, "Well I won't be doin' it for much longer. Baby's comin' in two weeks."

"You'll still have to hold her," You muse, "She's gonna hang off of you like a little monkey, Dar."

He chuckles and it shakes you slightly, the warmth of his chest intensified by the sweetness of his laughter, "You think so?"

"I know so." You nod, eyes still closed as you lean against his chest, "She's gonna love you. She'll be a total Daddy's Girl."

"I hope so." He hums, and you know that it's not as casual as it sounds: he's truly worried about his capabilities as a father, and he has been since you'd announced your pregnancy. But you know he'll be a great one, not only from the way that he takes care of his brothers, but by the way his hands already so expertly cup your stomach, cradling your baby before she's even born. You tug his hands closer together beneath your stomach, feeling your baby squirm but not kick in your belly.

"You'll be a great dad," You promise, soaking in the warmth of his touch as you lean back against him. She squirms again, not kicking you in the ribs but instead gently settling against the support his hands offer, "You already are."

#the outsiders x reader #darrel curtis x reader #darry curtis x reader #darry curtis fanfiction #darrel curtis fanfiction #darry curtis imagine #darrel curtis imagine #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders fanfiction

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dead3ve · 4 months ago

Note

Hii, I have a Charlie Dalton x fem!reader request/suggestion. Maybe something like Charlie tries to impress the reader with his rebellious acts, but what really wins her over are his genuine moments of vulnerability or support of his friends 🌸

Charlie Dalton x fem!reader

Summary: The request! And also, the scene where God calls him.

Warnings: The scene after where God calls him, and Charlie gets the paddle :(, no use of y/n, reader referred to as a girl, wears the uniformed skirt.

The reason for the limited number of female students was because the education board wanted a smoother transition process when making Welton Academy a co-ed school.

Did the new girls excite the boys? Yes. Was it any different? Not really.

Within the first few weeks of the school term, Charlie managed to make the prettiest of the girls laugh. Since then, he had become addicted to the sound.

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Mr. Keating had taken the students out of class to recite poetry and play soccer. An interesting mix of activities. Each student would recite a line or two of poetry and then kick the ball. When Charlie reached the front of the line, he took a confident stance, puffed his chest and he yelled his passage of "To indeed be a God!" He then kicked the ball.

He could hear laughter from several people, mainly from his friends. The laugh that was the most noticeable to Charlie was a ringing, girlish giggle. It bubbled from their chest and made Charlies neck warm under its collar. They had been stood behind him the whole time and he didn't notice how pretty they were. He had been craving the sound of their laugh since that lesson.

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The article in the school newsletter had been a popular topic among the student body. Charlie's plan was going exactly the way he wanted it to. All of the students were seated in the assembly hall, and Charlie had the phone prepared and his dialogue ready. The girl Charlie needed to impress was sat behind him around the other new girls.

Mr. Nolan was speaking in his calmy-furious way. Then suddenly, a phone was ringing. The silence turned into confused murmurs and chuckles in the assembly hall.

Charlie turned around in his chair to look at the girl. He sent them a wink and stood, phone in hand. The wink had made their stomach flutter and breath hitch. The girls around them had laughed and hollered at the interaction. But when he stood, the butterflies stopped. The butterflies turned into a nauseous feeling. This wasn't going to end well. That was when they heard Charlie's charismatic voice.

"Welton Academy, Hello?" The girl's knee was bouncing, "Yes, he is. Just a moment." The back of the girl's neck was sweating.

"Mr. Nolan, it's for you." Charlie moved his arms to gesture the phone towards the stern man stood on the stage before the lectern, "It's God. He says we should have more girls at Welton."

The girl's brows drew together as laughter erupted. They turned and looked around at some of the other students. They saw Charlie's friends, Neil and Todd and two redheads. Their postures were shrinking and their faces falling. Hands covering faces in shame.

While the hall was loud in laughter, Charlie sat back down. He turned to look at the girl to see their reaction. His brows also knitted together at their reaction.

There was no smile or laugh.

A frown. An awfully confused, gorgeous frown was what Charlie saw instead.

When Charlie caught their eye, the girl's gaze pulled away and lowered towards their skirted knees. They were considering whether or not the rebellious boy was worth the girl's attraction. They were wondering what he had done to himself and his friends.

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The girl had asked Neil Perry what Charlie had done when they were in the boys' dormitory hallway of Welton. He'd told them about the cave and the poetry.

Then he told them about why he probably pulled this stunt to impress them.

"What?" The girl's brows raised and pulled tightly together. They had grasped Neil's arm, wanting sincerity. "You're joking, right?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Neil spoke with the needed sincerity, "He's liked you for a while now. I'm sorry I had to tell you." A small, apologetic smile was on Neil's lips.

The girl had turned away from Neil and slammed their back against the wall. They'd winded themself, a breath escaping them as they stood in shock.

The boy they liked was trying to impress them. He was trying to impress them by being a dumbass. Their heart fluttered. They turned to look at Neil with red cheeks.

"Do you mind if I stick around until he comes back?" The girl spoke quietly with a red face.

"You're welcome to," Neil gave a sad smile at their red face, "But he might be upset. Facing Nolan..." Neil didn't want to bring up 'the paddle' around the girl.

"Thank you, Neil." They gave him a sad smile back. Then they excused themself to wash their face under a tap. They were flustered from the conversation.

When they were walking back towards the boy's dorms, Charlie was walking slowly down the opposite end of the hallway, he went to turn into his dorm, but Neil began to talk to him in the doorway. The girl could no longer see Charlie, and because Neil said he might be upset they stopped, not wanting to overstep. Whatever was said ended with Neil smiling. That made the girl's heart flutter.

Once Charlie's door had closed with a solid clunk, the girl's feet moved quickly. They had stopped in front of Neil. They were frantic with their questions.

"Is he okay? What did Nolan say? What did Nolan do?" Their voice was growing in volume as they spoke. They were getting nervous. The girl's head was turning between Neil's face and Charlie's closed door.

Neil had to take the girl by the arms to calm them down. "He's going to be fine, okay?" Neil spoke softly, with confident reassurance. "If he's at study hall tonight, one of us will come and get you. You should rest, okay?" This made the girl release a relieved breath.

"Thank you, Neil," The girl pulled away, stepping towards the exit of the boy's dormitories, "If you get to speak to him, tell him I'm worried."

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When Neil and the girl walked into the common room where the boys usually held study hall, they were shocked to find it so quiet. The boys had fallen silent because Mr. Keating was there.

"Phone call from God. If it had been collect, that would have been daring." Mr. Keating finished the sentence with a smile. The boys laughed at his comment.

When Mr. Keating walked out of the common room, silence turned to the girl. The boys dispersed around the room, all the while, the girl stared at Charlie who was sat on a plush, leather recliner. When the girl took some steps towards him. He was looking towards them with hopeful eyes.

"You know that was really stupid, Charlie." The girl spoke quietly with little conviction.

Charlie pulled his gaze away from their face. He couldn't bear to see the disappointment. Charlie looked at the tip of the girl's shoulder instead as he spoke in an apologetic whisper, saying "I thought it would've made it you laugh."

The girl sat on the arm of the couch, facing Charlie. Charlie's gaze failed to meet theirs until they ducked to see his brown eyes. The girl knew he was sorry. Sorry for almost exposing his friends. Maybe even sorry for himself.

"You make me laugh. Just not when you're hurting your friends in the process." Charlie had placed his elbow on the arm of the couch next to the girl's knees in order to cup his face in his hand . He wanted to look at the girl.

"I'm sorry," Charlie was still speaking quietly. Both to preserve his emotional control and to keep the girl by his side, not wanting to scare them off, "It won't happen again." He finished the sentence with one of his winning smiles.

The girl's heart fluttered, and they smiled back. They had to look down at their lap, or else they would have been too overwhelmed by him. That was when they realized there was a bongo drum on the floor by Charlie's recliner. They picked it up and released a breathy chuckle.

"This is what makes me laugh, Charlie." They spoke while looking down at the instrument. They had missed Charlie's story and what the bongo drum was used for, but the girl knew it would have been funny.

Charlie then told them the story of what happened in Nolan's office. He told them about the paddle. Charlie made the girl frown in pity for him and then laugh with joyful tears in their eyes. For the rest of study hall, the two were sat in their own world on the leather recliner. Sudden, girlish jolts of laughter were heard, pulling students away from their books and pens. The boisterous voice of Charlie Dalton was a constant distraction.

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At breakfast the next day, in between staring at the girl and eating from his plate, Charlie was planning on how to ask the girl out on a date.

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#charlie dalton x reader #charlie dalton #dead poets #dead poets society x reader #dead poets society #dead poets fanfic #dps #fem!reader

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thepastdied · 2 years ago

Text

Laughter is the Best Medicine

Not my gif

TW: panic attack.

eddie munson × reader fluff

warning: cuteness

Eddie cheers you up after a panic attack.

Yes, I know Hellfire isn't in the auditorium. Shhh.

Your breathing got faster as you slid your body down the cement wall of the auditorium, throat tightening and your insides twisting around painfully.

Your teacher had called you out in front of the entire class an hour ago, and you'd been holding in your nerves since then. It was agonizing.

Your palms were sweating, face hot, head fuzzy, and you were overwhelmed with nausea.

You huffed out a sob, your shaky hand covering your mouth as you muffled your cries.

You hated yourself for being so sensitive. But waking up and coming to this hell hole was such a chore. Every. Day. You felt like you wanted to throw up every morning, your stomach turning from the moment your eyes snapped open to the loud ringing of your alarm clock. Even worse when you would smell the fresh breakfast your mom made before you slipped out the front door.

Getting to school was one of the hardest parts of your day. The short drive gave you little to no time to prepare yourself for the crowd of students flocking into the school and through the hallways.

The moment you got to class, it was like a sigh of relief. You'd talk with a couple of classmates, and that was all. You didn't feel as anxious anymore and actually felt safe to be sitting down in a room with familiar faces rather than pushing through a crowd.

But here you were, a pathetic mess on the floor of the auditorium. All because a teacher snapped at you for laughing at one of Eddie's jokes.

"What's the stinkiest planet?" Eddie turned around and leaned over your desk, his eyebrows raising in anticipation, eyes sparkling as his full lips pulled into a smirk.

You cringed at him, shaking your head.

"Poopiter." He leaned back and laughed at his own joke. You following suit and got your own ass handed to you for it.

You felt stupid, but it was so embarrassing. More so because it was in front of Eddie, who you were totally crushing on. He was always so sweet to you. The entire class looked at you, scowling and rolling their eyes. You don't know how you'd be able to set foot in that classroom again. You have never gotten yelled at by a teacher.

Your vision blurred as tears poured down your face, ears hot and ringing, body shivering. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you hyperventilated. It hurt.

Your nimble fingers picked at the frayed thread of your ripped jeans, tears rolling down the bridge of your nose and landing on your thigh as your head bowed down. Your lips quivered before you sobbed again, your hands covering your red face as your throat gurgled from the saliva building in your mouth.

Your head snapped up, the hard push on the auditorium door handle echoing loudly throughout the room.

"Doopy doo dee daaaa.." Eddie quickly passed you as he galloped down the long slope walkway toward the stage. His torn backpack hung loosly on one shoulder and flopped roughly against his back.

You shrunk into yourself, your whole body going hot in embarrassment as you quickly wiped the tears from your face and covered your eyes with your still shaky hands, the knot in your throat growing bigger. You swallowed and took the deepest breath you could before slowly letting it out. And then again. And again.

A sudden smack made you perk your head up, the back of your hand wiping under your nose.

"Shit.." Eddie abruptly stopped and turned around to pick up the pencil case that fell out of his backpack. "Need a new backpack."

You involuntarily sniffled, your eyes going wide as his head shot up in your direction.

"Hey!" He grinned, eyes cheerful as he reached one arm up high and waved his arm as if he were flagging down a ship.

You meekly raised your hand, still paralyzed from your panic attack.

He stared at you for a moment, hand frozen in mid-air before he let it fall to his side, tilting his head quizzically.

"Hey, you okay?" He called across the room.

Your stomach twisted again and your eyes started to burn again. I hate when people ask if you're okay when you are NOT okay.

You chomped down on your lip as it began to quiver, a single tear escaping down your cheek.

"No no no no, don't.. shit shit why did I ask that.. uh-" Eddie cursed as he spun in a circle, frantically looking around and panicking.

He held his breath for a moment as he paused, standing still before shrugging his backpack off his shoulder and letting it fall to the floor.

Eddie slowly walked back up the aisle, hands clasped behind him as he leaned forward to get a better look at you- like he was observing a scared cat.

He stood upright as he saw what a mess you were. Your hair stuck to your wet, red, and puffy face, your sad eyes meeting his soft brown ones.

His ringed hand came up to scratch at his chin, his lips sticking at as he looked around awkwardly. You put your head back down to rest on your knees that you'd been hugging and sniffled again as a tear fell onto your sleeve.

He carefully walked in front of you, his dirty white reeboks almost touching your just as dirty converse. You opened your eyes when you heard him groan as he sat down in front of you, his back leaning against one of the many chairs that covered the room.

Your eyes stayed on his sneakers. You wanted to speak, but you couldn't. The only sounds coming out were sniffles.

Eddie skidded his foot forward, the top of his shoe knocking on the side of yours. You didn't move.

He did it again, but with his other foot. And then started to tap them back and forth to whatever song he was playing in his head.

You momentarily furrowed your eyebrows as you watched his feet and shifted your focus to his arms when he started to fiddle with an imaginary guitar.

You wiped your cheek on your shoulder and huffed out a laugh as he began to rock his head back and forth, eyes closed.

"Wish you could hear this. I'm totally shredding it." He peeked one eye open as he began to hum.

You covered your mouth to cover your giggle, his movements pausing at your reaction and feet remaining on either side of your own.

"Maybe someday?" He placed his hands on the floor and leaned forward in question.

You licked your tear stained lips and used the sleeve of your sweater to wipe both of your eyes, your tears finally stopping.

"At the Hideout?" You croaked, cringing at how hoarse your voice was.

He smiled at you, his eyes big and the corners of his mouth turning downwards in the way that they do.

"Every Tuesday, hun." He winked at you, eyes dazzling.

Your breath caught in your throat and you broke eye contact. Eddie internally panicked for a second until you looked back up and nodded with a weak smile.

His eyes left yours and danced across your face until they trailed down to your hair. He reached forward and ran his fingers along the small braid you had behind your ear.

"Cool." He muttered. "Wanna do mine?" He quirked one eyebrow and grinned as he grabbed a lock of his curls and wiggled it back and forth.

Your throat went dry as you wordlessly nodded.

Fuck.

Eddie excitedly did a little dance and slid his body so your thighs were touching. He held his arm out toward you, a black hair tie snug on his wrist.

Your fingers brushed his skin as you pulled it over his hand and placed it on your lap.

His fingers nervously drummed against his thighs as you raked your hand through his hair, which was surprisingly not as knotted as you thought.

Keyword, as. It was still pretty knotted.

The back of your hand brushed his neck as you began to separate three sections of his hair behind his ear, the same area where yours was. He shivered before coughing and sitting up straighter.

He hummed a bit, and soon his head started to lightly bob back and forth as he did before.

"Eddie! You made me mess up." You pouted as his soft curls slipped from your fingers and the braid quickly unraveled.

He laughed, shoulders shaking as he held his hands up and apologized.

You scoffed and shook your head before starting over again, still struggling to keep a grip on his impossibly soft hair.

"Can you talk to me about it?" He whispered after a long moment of silence.

You paused just for a second. You didn't feel that anxiety creep back up, but you didn't want to cry again.

"Want you to tell me what's wrong, sweetheart."

You sighed. So you told him why you were upset.

"Jesus.. I totally forgot about that." He looked down at the floor in deep thought before placing his hand on your ankle.

"You know that the whole class probably forgot, too. Ya know? Tomorrow it will be just like any other day. Mrs. O'Donnell won't even remember either, probably. She yells at me all the time. Would probably confuse that whole situation with me, honestly." His big stupidly pretty eyes bored into yours, sincerity written all over his face.

"If she ever brings it up - which she won't by the way, I'll tell her that it was me. She won't think twice about it." He shrugged.

You released his hair and put your hands on your lap, wringing your fingers together before you began to pick at your nails. You felt that sting in your eyes again, but you held it this time. You were still embarrassed because it was in front of him. His eyes flicked down before he pursed his lips and shook his head, bangs swiping his forehand.

"Don't do that.." He muttered as he moved his hand from your ankle to your wrist, thumb rubbing circles into the soft skin there.

He trailed his index finger up your palm slowly, way too slowly, before intertwining his fingers with yours. A small blush creeped across his cheeks when your fingers tightened around his.

"For the record," He paused for a moment when your eyes met his through your eyelashes. He bit onto his top lip, bottom lip sticking out as he bashfully placed his face against his shoulder to itch his jaw. "You're still pretty even when you cry."

"Oh my god.." You laughed as you covered your face when the hand he wasn't holding.

His timid smile quickly disappeared into a dopey grin.

"I got another joke, sweetheart." He pulled your hand onto his lap as he sat up straighter and shook the stray curls from his face.

You nodded for him to continue, your hand now covering your mouth as you chewed your lip shyly.

"Do you want to hear a joke about pizza?" His face went serious.

You both were quiet for a few heartbeats before a laugh bubbled in his throat. He strained his mouth, jaw tensing as he tried to conceal his laugh.

"What is it?" You smiled as you nudged him with your shoe.

"Never mind, it's too cheesy." He burst out laughing, letting all the laughter he held for the last minute into the auditorium as he threw his head back.

It was the stupidest joke, and that's why you laughed, your hand shoving his shoulder as he hunched forward and knocked into you.

"That is so stupid." You sputtered, mainly giggling at his overreaction.

He nodded his head, wiping a non existent tear dramatically from under his eye.

"Wheeeew. That was a knee slapper." He chuckled again, shaking his head at the absurdity.

His stray laughs came to a steady stop as he looked at your hand still clasped around his, your thumb playing with one of his rings.

"Seeing how you like my jokes, I was thinking.. maybe we could uh-.. I mean, if you are on the same page as me- like we could -" He stumbled with his words before the door swung open and a group of boys and one girl slid into the room.

The both of you scrambled away from eachother before they could see the close proximity you'd been in.

Eddie clumsily made his way to his feet as you did and rubbed his sweaty hands on the rough denim covering his thighs.

"Go out with me. Pizza. Tonight." Eddie blurted out, his voice cracking.

You blinked a few times and shifted on your feet.

"U-uh.. yeah, sure!" You mentally slapped yourself.

He slowly nodded and jumped on the balls of his feet as his eyes flicked between you and the boys that made their way to the stage.

He stepped forward, his hands frantically moving around in his pockets before he pulled out a piece of candy. He wrinkled his nose at the flavor before placing it in your hand and closing your fingers tightly around it.

"So you don't forget. You'll see it and be like 'Oh! Eddie! Sweet, sweet Eddie!' and then you'll remember our date. Tonight." He placed one hand on the wall and coolly leaned against it. "You got a number, sweets?"

You sheepishly nodded before pulling a pen out of your jacket pocket, rolling his sleeve up to write your phone number across his wrist.

His wild curls covered his eyes, but you can see his shit eating grin as he, what you assumed, watched as you wrote on his skin.

You clicked the pen closed before he quickly grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, placing a good smacker on the back of your hand.

You giggled as he stepped away from you, still holding your hand as your arms stretched out.

"See you later, darlin'." He winked at you as he made a clicking sound with his mouth before he trotted back down the aisle toward his friends, swooping his backpack up in the process.

You sighed dreamily as you watched him climb the stairs and flop down on the chair that looked like a throne.

Fuck, you were lucky.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson hurt/comfort #soft!eddie #shy!eddie munson #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blog #eddie munson x reader blurb

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allmoshnobrain · 9 months ago

Note

ok hear me out 7) possessive sex with 80s james where he's kinda inexperienced with his own feelings so he gets really jealous bc some other guy has been flirting with you and just gives you the most possessive sex ever with lots of love bites and hickeys instead of communicating and you end up having to ask what's gotten into him and reassuring him in the end

tysm for the request, lovely! hope you like it <3

from this prompt list │requests are open! send yours here

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

james hetfield x reader │ word count: 2,6k

But James was also freaked out — what if you found someone cooler than him? Someone who wasn't as awkwardly shy as he was — I mean, he had waited a whole year before he mustered up the guts to ask you out. Dwelling on this wasn't doing him any favors; he needed some way to convince himself you weren't gonna ditch him, not for some dumb sound tech, not for anybody.

✦ on this fic: NSFW!!!, james hefield x female!reader, +18, language, romance, mxf sex, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex, a bit of cockwarming at the end if you squint

Hanging out with Metallica had its perks, one of them being that you got to kick it backstage before and after their gigs. Those nights with the guys were always a blast, packed with music, drinks, and laughter. It was rad seeing how much they loved playing and watching their success grow in the Bay Area metal scene.

Another cool thing was getting to hang around your boyfriend, James. You hadn't been together for too long; after almost a year of crushing on each other, you had finally made it official just a month before. Of course, Lars, Kirk, and Cliff were already in the loop — they greeted the news with smiles and a playful "well, finally!" from Lars. But you weren't exactly shouting it from the rooftops, even though it wasn't hard to notice how James was always by your side, cracking silly jokes and flashing those easy smiles that showed just how much he adored you.

You grinned as the guys finished up yet another gig. The crowd that night had been wild, probably one of the craziest yet, leaving everyone pumped to celebrate. The band made their way backstage, chatting and laughing up a storm, and you trailed along, feeling James hook his pinkie with yours, a sweet gesture you were still getting used to.

"You good?" he asked, and you nodded. "Just gonna hop in the shower real quick, then we'll kick off the party, alright? Back in a jiffy."

You watched as James, Lars, Kirk, and Cliff headed towards the showers, a little smile dancing on your lips before you decided to snag a beer while you waited for them to return.

"Hey, can you grab one for me too?" you heard, glancing up to see one of the sound crew guys grinning at you as you fetched your beer from the fridge. You couldn't quite recall his name, but you remembered seeing him around backstage, always chatting mostly with Kirk and Cliff.

"Oh, sure thing. Here you go," you handed him the beer you were holding, reaching back into the fridge for another one for yourself.

"So, you liked the gig?" he asked with a grin.

"Absolutely, it was killer!" you replied, a smile spreading across your face. Metallica's shows always got you pumped; you just loved seeing your boyfriend and the boys tearing it up on stage. "How about you?"

"Yeah, yeah, it was cool. But I'm always more into the after-parties," he said, edging a bit closer with a smile, and you blinked, a bit confused. "Y'know, the drinks, the fun, the pretty girls..."

Oh. Was he hitting on you? Well, that was unexpected. You blushed, caught off guard, trying to figure out how to politely tell him that not only were you already taken — you were taken by James, and you knew he wouldn't be too thrilled to see someone from his crew making moves on his girl.

"Oh. I, uh, I'm sorry, but I'm..." you began, but your attention was quickly drawn elsewhere when you locked eyes with James, his blue gaze fixed on you from across the room. You smiled at him, unaware of the slight frown creasing his brow, a hint of annoyance in his expression. "Excuse me," you said, darting off to James.

"Hey, babe," he grumbled, pulling you close and wrapping an arm around your waist. "Having a good time?"

"Not really. It's kinda dull without you," you replied, giggling as he leaned in and planted a kiss on your lips.

James was usually pretty low-key about showing his affection, but seeing some other guy blatantly trying to hit on you had stirred up more insecurity than he cared to admit. He didn't really know how to handle it — everything was still so fresh, how you could make his heart skip a beat with just a grin, how he would always find himself wanting to be around you, but also how he'd feel that knot in his stomach whenever he caught someone else checking you out with that look in their eyes.

You were his. He'd wanted you to be his for so damn long, and now that he finally had you, he was determined not to let anything mess it up. But James was also freaked out — what if you found someone cooler than him? Someone who wasn't as awkwardly shy as he was — I mean, he had waited a whole year before he mustered up the guts to ask you out. Dwelling on this wasn't doing him any favors; he needed some way to convince himself you weren't gonna ditch him, not for some dumb sound tech, not for anybody.

"Come with me," he whispered against your lips, and you giggled as he took your hand, pulling you along through the backstage corridors.

“Where are we headed?” you asked, intrigued, but he didn’t answer. “James!” you laughed as he swung open a door to one of the dressing rooms, pulling you close against him, his lips eager for yours.

"Need you so bad," he groaned, his fingers eagerly tracing over your body. He lifted your shirt, and you gasped as he kissed you again, more fiercely this time, his tongue delving into your mouth, his teeth lightly nibbling at your lower lip. You moaned into the kiss, tangling your fingers in his long blonde hair.

"Jamie..." you breathed out, feeling your cheeks heat up as he unhooked your bra, cupping one of your breasts in his hand and giving your nipple a gentle pinch. He kissed you once more, this time trailing his lips along the tender skin of your neck, and you let out a gasp as he sucked on it, marking you with love bites all over your sensitive skin. You leaned back for a moment to tug his shirt off, giggling when he swooped in to kiss you again.

"Tell me you're mine," he grunted against your lips, lightly nipping at your lower lip before planting kisses on your cheek, your neck, your collarbones. You sighed contentedly, closing your eyes as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, gently sucking and nibbling while his hand caressed your other breast.

“I’m… I’m yours, James, oh…” you panted as he bit down on your nipple, kissing and sucking on your soft skin until he left yet another red mark. He'd never been this intense before, a wild possessiveness that made you shiver with excitement, but it also made you a little uneasy. Up until now, James had always been gentle with you, like he was afraid of hurting you if he wasn't careful enough. This wasn't his usual vibe; you knew something had to be up. "James," you moaned, trying to ease back a bit, but he just grunted, pulling you closer as he hungrily sought out your lips. "Jamie, hold on," you panted, and this time he paused, looking at you with somewhat unfocused eyes, his lips slightly swollen and his cheeks flushed. "Babe, what's going on?"

"What?" he frowned, a slight anxious smile quirking up his lips. You ran your fingers gently over his face, and he caught your wrist, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. "Do you want me to back off? Don’t you want me?" The way he posed that last question made your heart clench with concern.

"Why wouldn't I?" you whispered. "It's just... Don't get me wrong, I love it, but... You're usually... gentler with me," you blushed, averting your gaze.

“Oh, shit. Did I hurt you?” he asked, concern lacing his voice, and you shook your head no. He let out a relieved sigh.

"I just wanna know what's up," you pressed, and he sighed again, glancing away, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "Did I mess up?"

"Of course not. You're amazing," he assured you, cupping your face in his hands. You smiled, laying your hands on top of his. "It's just... I..." he bit his lip, and you gave his hands a gentle squeeze, urging him on. "I think I'm jealous."

“Jealous?” you echoed, surprised. He grunted.

"I know it sounds dumb. But when I saw Rick hitting on you after the show, I... I couldn't help but wonder if you'd prefer me more if I was just a bit more confident. Like he is," he whispered, avoiding your gaze. You blinked, caught off guard.

"Babe," you whispered, and he met your eyes again, his blue gaze clouded with worry. "You know I'm with you because I like you, right? I don't want anybody else."

He nodded, a wave of relief washing over his face as a small smile crept onto his lips. You returned the smile, wrapping your arms around his neck as you leaned in to kiss him gently.

"I want you," you whispered, pressing yourself against him, and he let out a low groan, drawing you nearer. You blushed, releasing a soft sigh as he trailed kisses along your neck once more, this time with a gentleness that sent delightful shivers down your spine, his lips lingering over your love bites. "I'm all yours, James... Want me to show you?"

“Yes, please,” he mumbled against your neck, and you giggled as he guided you to the couch, settling down while you stood between his legs. You slipped off your skirt, kneeling down between his knees. He unzipped his jeans, lifting his hips a bit to slide off his pants and underwear. You blushed when you caught sight of his hard cock, the tip slick with precum as he wrapped his hand around the base, stroking it slowly.

You watched him touch himself for a bit, your lips parting slightly as you felt your anticipation building, warmth spreading between your legs. You looked up when he took hold of your chin, meeting his blue eyes as he pressed the tip against your lips. You obediently opened your mouth, sucking on him gently as he nudged his hips forward, easing his length inside your mouth. You moaned, tears welling in your eyes as you took a deep breath, doing your best to accommodate him.

He tangled his fingers in your hair, and you gripped his thighs, your nails leaving little marks on his skin. You shut your eyes as he guided your head up and down, taking it slow. You knew James was trying to be gentle, but he was so big it was tough not to choke on his length. He groaned, his other hand finding its way into your hair, gripping it as he rocked his hips. You moaned, breathing through your nose as he thrust into your mouth, and gasped as he pulled back.

“Fuck,” he gasped, and you let out a soft giggle as he lifted your chin, locking eyes with you. You licked your lips slowly, trying to catch your breath as a single tear rolled down your cheek. "C’mere," he moaned, and you stood up, straddling him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You let out a little moan as you felt his tip pressing against the damp fabric of your panties. James gripped your hips, guiding you in slow, circular motions, grinding his cock against your wetness. "You're so wet," he moaned.

"It's all your fault," you whispered, planting slow kisses along his neck. He gripped your ass with one hand, lifting it to slide your panties off. He took hold of his cock, pressing the tip against your clit and rubbing it gently, eliciting a moan from you against his skin.

"Tell me you want me," he whispered, and you moaned as he pressed his cock against your entrance, teasing it in small circles without pushing into you. He groaned your name, and you kissed him, your lips moving languidly against his.

“I want you. Only you, Jamie,” you whispered against his lips, and moaned as he eased into you slowly, guiding your hips down as he filled you up. You felt your pussy tighten around him, panting as you adjusted to his size. “James…”

"You're so gorgeous," he whispered, holding your chin as he kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth leisurely. You moaned before you started to move, slow at first as you felt him stretch you open, his cock filling you completely. He was so damn big you didn't know how you could handle it all, but it felt so, so good. James seemed to be feeling it too; he tilted his head back with a low groan, offering you access to his neck. You kissed him, taking your time as you left your own little marks on his fair skin; if he was gonna mark you as his, you damn well were gonna mark him as yours.

You moved a little faster, moaning as he matched your rhythm, thrusting up into you. Finding a steady pace, your breasts bounced a bit as you rode him, your arms locked around his neck as you pressed your forehead against his, locking eyes as you both moaned, moving as one. You kissed him again, passionately, as you sped up, gently nipping at his lower lip.

"James..." you whispered, and let out a sharp moan when he pressed his thumb against your clit, circling it fast and making your pussy tighten around him. "James, I'm so close..."

"I know. I can feel it," he whispered, a smug grin playing on his lips that made you groan, burying your face in his neck as you blushed. He gripped your hip with one hand while the other teased your clit, and you cried out softly as you rocked your hips faster. "That's it..." he moaned, and you knew he was close too by how tightly he held you, his hips moving against yours harder. "That's it, babe, fuck..."

You whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair while your other hand gripped his arm, his lips moving against yours as he moaned into your mouth. Bringing one hand down to your clit, you felt the slick wetness with your fingertips, gently massaging your sensitive bud in slow circles as you rode James' cock, bouncing up and down while the tension in your body built more and more.

You could feel your peak coming in slow waves, your pussy tightening around James as he moaned and whispered incoherent praises in your ear. Burying your face in his neck, you let out a little cry of pleasure as the tension in your body unraveled, causing you to shake and contract as James picked up the pace, thrusting eagerly as he chased his own release. You moaned shakily as you felt him release his warm load inside you with a grunt, kissing him softly as you gradually stopped moving.

“I’m all yours,” you whispered, running your fingers over his face gently, and he smiled at you, his gaze unfocused as he drew you in for another kiss. "Only yours," you murmured against his lips, and he smiled back.

"I love you so damn much," he said, his voice husky. You grinned, kissing him again and again, soft little kisses that made him sigh contentedly.

"I love you too," you replied, and let out a soft moan as you felt him grow harder, still deep inside you. "Are you seriously getting turned on by me saying I love you?" you giggled.

"Damn right, I am," James chuckled, gripping your hips and moving his own hips slowly. You laughed too, feeling your cheeks flush. "Say it again."

"I love you," you said, feeling a blush spread as you felt his cock grow even harder inside you. "Just you," you whispered, and James grunted as he thrust slowly. "Fuck, James..."

"You ready for round two?" he asked with a smug grin, and you nodded with a giggle before wrapping your arms around his neck, your lips finding his again as he began moving inside you, filling you with that same sense of love and warmth all over again.

#metallica #metallica imagines #metallica headcanon #james hetfield #james hetfield headcanon #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield x you #james hetfield smut #metallica x reader #metallica x you #james hetfield fanfiction #metallica fanfiction #ada writes fanfiction

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niallerspayno · 30 days ago

Text

About Last Night - Part 4

Masterlist

You and Louis continue to navigate the final weeks of your pregnancy, along with the boys being there to support the both of you.

Tags: Louis x pregnant reader, lots of fluff, hospitals and pain

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

...

The energy in the stadium is electric, the cheers of thousands of fans filling the air as the final chords of the closing song fade out. The boys gather at the edge of the stage, sweat glistening on their brows and smiles lighting up their faces. Louis grabs a microphone, his voice cutting through the noise.

“Thank you, Manchester!” he shouts, his grin wide and boyish. “You lot have been absolutely unreal tonight—and this whole tour. We couldn’t do it without you.”

The fans erupt into cheers, and Niall steps forward, his own mic in hand. “Seriously, you’ve been incredible. Best fans in the world!”

Zayn nods and flashes a rare but genuine smile, leaning into his mic. “Yeah, thank you for sticking with us. It means everything.”

Harry cracks a joke about losing half his wardrobe to fans over the years, earning a wave of laughter, and Liam promises new music soon, his tone warm and heartfelt.

Finally, Louis turns to you, his blue eyes sparkling under the stage lights. “And before we wrap this up, there’s someone else who deserves a huge thank you.” He gestures for you to join them, and despite the roaring crowd, you feel a flicker of hesitation.

But Louis reaches out, his hand steady and inviting, and you take it, letting him pull you to his side. The cheers grow louder as he beams at you.

“This one right here,” he says into the mic, his voice filled with pride. “She’s been with us every step of the way this tour, even when it hasn’t been easy. So let’s give it up for her, yeah?”

The crowd responds with a deafening roar, and you can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at the overwhelming support. Taking the mic Louis hands you, you smile at the sea of faces.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” you begin, your voice a little shaky but steadying as you continue. “Not just to the boys but to all of you. You’ve been so patient and understanding while I’ve been figuring out how to navigate... well, everything.” You place a hand on your bump for emphasis, earning a wave of cheers.

Niall steps forward, his grin boyish and full of warmth. “And she’s been a legend, hasn’t she? A total star!”

The crowd erupts into cheers again, and you can’t help but laugh, feeling a wave of affection for him and the others.

“And I promise,” you add with a grin, “next time I’ll be able to give you a hundred percent again.”

Louis takes the mic back, his hand slipping to rest protectively over yours on your belly. His face softens, and his voice drops just enough to make the moment feel intimate, despite the thousands of people watching.

“Next tour’s gonna be a bit different, though,” he says, glancing at you before looking back at the crowd. “Because I’ll be a dad, and she’ll be a mum.”

The audience erupts, the cheers shaking the entire venue. Louis’ words hit you in the chest, a mixture of love and pride blooming in your heart. The other boys beam, patting Louis on the back and giving you knowing smiles.

Harry leans into his mic, winking at the crowd. “We might have to add some lullabies to the setlist.”

Niall chimes in with a cheeky grin. “Or get the baby some earplugs. Loudest kid in the world already, I reckon.”

The laughter from both the band and the crowd is infectious, and Louis pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple as the music swells for the final bow.

Together, with your little one growing between you, you step forward with the boys, hand in hand, ready to close this chapter and start the next.

...

The atmosphere at the bar buzzes with post-concert energy, the perfect blend of exhaustion and triumph fueling the celebration. Glasses clink, and laughter ripples through the room as the boys share stories of the tour, each memory growing more exaggerated and ridiculous with every retelling.

You sit nestled in the corner of the booth, sipping your sparkling water with lime. At 31 weeks pregnant, you’re doing your best to stay engaged, but your body isn’t exactly cooperating. Your back aches, your feet throb, and you can’t help but long for a comfortable bed and quiet.

Louis, ever-attentive, sits beside you, his arm protectively draped over the back of your seat. He’s been glued to your side all evening, stealing glances at you between conversations and checking in every few minutes.

“You sure you’re alright, love?” he asks again, his voice low so only you can hear. His hand gently squeezes your knee.

You give him a tired but genuine smile. “I’m fine, Lou. Just a bit sore and tired, that’s all.”

Louis frowns, not entirely convinced. “Do you want to go back to the hotel? I can make an excuse—”

“Absolutely not,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “This is a big night for us and the boys. I’m not missing it.”

Louis leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Biggest night of my life is sitting right here with me,” he murmurs, his words making your heart ache in the best way.

“Oi, what’s all the whispering about?” Niall interrupts, sliding into the booth across from you with a teasing grin. He holds up his soda. “You and me, non-drinkers’ club. Cheers to sparkling water.”

You laugh and clink your glass against his. “Cheers, Niall. Thanks for joining the club.”

“Only for you, darling,” Niall says dramatically, earning a chuckle from Louis.

A moment later, Liam joins, carrying an extra cushion he swiped from one of the bar’s chairs. “Thought you might need this,” he says, placing it gently behind your back.

You look up at him in surprise, warmth spreading across your face. “Liam, you’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Liam replies with a soft smile. “Figured you might need a bit of extra support. Don’t let him take all the credit,” he adds, nodding toward Louis.

“She never does,” Louis quips, earning a laugh from the table.

Harry saunters over, sliding into the seat beside Niall. “Alright, what’s the verdict? Are we raising the next frontman for the band or a future footballer?”

Louis smirks. “Why not both?”

Zayn follows with a plate of fries, setting them in front of you without a word.

You blink up at him, your face lighting up. “Zayn, you’re officially my favorite tonight.”

“Oi,” Louis protests immediately. “What about me?”

“You’re a close second,” you tease, popping a fry into your mouth as laughter erupts around the table.

The banter continues, the boys all taking turns doting on you in their own way. Even Liam can’t resist, offering to grab you anything else you might need.

As the night progresses, Louis clears his throat, his hand resting on your knee again. He glances at you, a silent question in his eyes. You nod softly, giving him permission.

“Alright, everyone,” Louis announces, his voice cutting through the hum of the bar. “We’ve got some news.”

The table quiets immediately, all eyes on the two of you.

“We’ve decided,” Louis continues, a proud smile tugging at his lips, “that we’re moving in together.”

The room erupts in cheers and congratulations. Niall raises his glass with a wide grin. “About bloody time! You two are a proper team already.”

Liam nods in agreement, his voice sincere. “It makes sense. You’ve already been there for each other through so much. It’s the next step.”

Harry leans back, smirking. “Louis and domestic life—this I’ve gotta see.”

“I’m an excellent cook,” Louis fires back defensively.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “He burns toast.”

Zayn shakes his head, chuckling softly. “Seriously though, that’s great. You two are going to smash it.”

Louis glances at you again, his hand squeezing yours. “We already are, aren’t we?”

Your heart swells as you lean into him, his arm wrapping securely around your shoulders. For the first time in weeks, the exhaustion and aches feel secondary to the overwhelming love and support radiating from the people around you. You look around the table, feeling lucky beyond words.

...

The plane touches down at Heathrow, and the bittersweet weight of the moment sinks in as you and Louis step off the plane. The familiarity of London feels comforting, but the knowledge that this marks the end of the tour leaves your heart heavy.

In the bustling terminal, the band gathers near the baggage carousel. The energy is subdued, the usual chatter replaced with reflective silence. The past months have been a whirlwind, and now it’s time to say goodbye—for now.

Harry is the first to step forward. His arms open wide as he gives you a warm hug, his curls tickling your cheek. “Take care of yourself, yeah? And don’t let Louis boss you around too much.”

“I’m the boss,” you reply with a small laugh, squeezing him tightly.

Harry pulls back, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “That’s what I like to hear. Don’t be a stranger.”

Next is Zayn, who leans in for a hug without much fanfare, but his actions speak volumes. “You’ve done good,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a murmur. “I mean it. You’re family.”

The lump in your throat grows as you nod, unable to form words. His calm presence has been a quiet comfort throughout the tour, and you’ll miss it.

Liam steps up, his kind smile making you feel at ease even as the tears threaten to fall. He pulls you into a firm hug. “You’ve been incredible through all this. You’ve got a lot on your plate, but you’ve handled it better than anyone else could. We’ll be around if you need anything, alright?”

“Thanks, Liam,” you manage to choke out, touched by his sincerity.

He steps back, looking at Louis. “Take care of her, mate. Not that I doubt you will.”

Louis nods, his arm tightening around your waist. “Always.”

Then there’s Niall. Your heart twists as he approaches, his expression a mix of pride and sadness. Niall’s been your rock, from the very start of this journey to now. He steps close, wrapping you in a hug that’s warmer and longer than any of the others.

“Don’t know what I’m gonna do without you,” he murmurs into your ear. “You’ve been my partner in crime, you know that?”

Tears spill over, and you cling to him. “You’re going to be fine, Niall. And you’ll come over all the time, right? You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Damn right I will.” He pulls back, his blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “You’ve got something amazing ahead, though. And I’m so happy for you. Both of you.”

You smile through the tears, wiping at your cheeks. “Thanks, Niall. For everything.”

He steps back, clearing his throat and giving Louis a pointed look. “You better keep her happy, Tommo. Or I’ll be moving in.”

Louis grins, clapping Niall on the back. “Wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.”

With all the goodbyes said, the boys gather their luggage, ready to head off in different directions. They promise to visit often, knowing events, interviews, and their unbreakable bond will keep them connected.

As you watch them walk away, your heart feels heavy but full. Louis leans down to press a kiss to your temple, his hand resting on the small of your back. “You alright, love?”

You nod, smiling up at him despite the tears. “Yeah. Just… a lot to take in.”

He squeezes your hand, his gaze filled with nothing but love. “We’ve got this. Together.”

And with that, you leave the airport, ready to step into the next chapter of your lives.

...

As Louis pulls into the driveway of his home, a warm sense of familiarity washes over you. It’s cozy and welcoming, much like the man sitting beside you. You smile as you glance at him, his face lighting up with pride as he parks the car.

“Welcome home,” he says softly, reaching out to squeeze your hand.

“Thanks,” you reply, feeling a swell of emotion at the idea of this being your shared space. You’re about to grab your bag when Louis holds up a finger.

“Wait. Before we go in, there’s something I should probably tell you.”

Your eyebrows raise in curiosity. “Oh? What’s that?”

Before he can answer, the front door swings open, and you hear a familiar voice call out. “Louis! You’re back!”

Your jaw drops as you see Johannah and Lottie stepping out onto the porch, beaming at the sight of the two of you.

“Johannah? Lottie?” you exclaim, looking to Louis for an explanation.

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Surprise! I may have invited them over for dinner.”

“You could have warned me!” you hiss, though there’s no real heat in your tone.

He chuckles and leans in, whispering, “Thought it’d be nice for them to see you again—and for you to meet them properly, you know, as my girlfriend. And the soon-to-be mother of my child.”

Your heart swells despite the nerves fluttering in your chest. You’ve met Johannah and Lottie before in the context of being a band member, but this is entirely different.

By the time you step out of the car, Johannah is already making her way over. She envelops you in a warm hug, her genuine affection immediately putting you at ease.

“It’s so lovely to see you again,” she says, pulling back to give you a once-over. “And look at you! Absolutely glowing.”

You can’t help but smile, her kindness melting away your nerves. “It’s so nice to see you too, Johannah.”

“And me, obviously,” Lottie pipes up, her grin mischievous as she pulls you into a hug next. “This is such an exciting surprise.”

“It’s definitely a surprise,” you say with a laugh, shooting Louis a playful glare.

Johannah waves you toward the house. “Come on in. We’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

Inside, the dining table is set beautifully, and the delicious smell of a home-cooked meal fills the air. You feel a bit overwhelmed but also incredibly touched by the effort they’ve put in.

As dinner begins, the conversation flows easily. Johannah asks about the pregnancy, her enthusiasm contagious, while Lottie teases Louis mercilessly about finally settling down.

“So, are you ready for all those sleepless nights, big brother?” Lottie quips, smirking over her glass of wine.

Louis rolls his eyes but smiles. “I’ll manage. Not like I’ll be doing it alone.” He places a hand on your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Johannah beams at the two of you. “You’re going to make a wonderful little family. I couldn’t be prouder.”

Her words bring a lump to your throat, and you blink back tears as you look at Louis. He meets your gaze with so much love that you feel your nerves dissipate completely.

By the end of the night, you feel fully embraced by Johannah and Lottie, their warmth and support wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. As they say their goodbyes, Johannah hugs you tightly one more time.

“You’re part of the family now,” she says softly. “Don’t ever forget that.”

As they leave and the house falls quiet, you turn to Louis, unable to hide your smile.

“That was... really nice,” you admit, leaning into him as he wraps his arms around you.

“I told you it would be,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Welcome home, love.”

...

A few days later the sound of the doorbell echoes through the house, and you glance at Louis with a knowing smile as he rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

“Let me guess,” he says, already pushing himself off the couch. “Niall.”

You laugh, nodding as you watch him head to the door. Sure enough, moments later, Louis returns with Niall trailing behind him, holding a small box and a handful of brochures.

“Guess who’s here to be the best uncle ever?” Niall announces, a wide grin on his face as he kicks off his shoes.

“Niall, you already won that title by default,” you tease, standing up to greet him.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t secure my lead,” he counters, leaning down to give you a careful hug before setting the box on the coffee table. “Brought something for the nursery—and these.” He fans out the brochures with a flourish.

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Are those... nursery design ideas?”

“Yup!” Niall says proudly. “Figured you two haven’t started yet, so I’d help get the ball rolling.”

You glance at the brochures and then at Niall, warmth blooming in your chest. “That’s really thoughtful of you. Thank you, Niall.”

He shrugs, but his smile grows softer. “Anything for you guys. Now, open the box!”

You sit down on the couch, Louis taking a seat beside you, as Niall perches on the edge of the coffee table. Carefully, you lift the lid of the box to reveal a beautifully handmade wooden mobile. Small, intricately carved shapes of stars, moons, and clouds dangle delicately from strings, their craftsmanship stunning.

“Oh, Niall,” you breathe, running your fingers over the smooth wood. “This is... it’s perfect.”

Louis reaches over, lifting one of the tiny moons with a reverent look. “Mate, did you make this?”

Niall blushes slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had a little help, but yeah. Thought it might add a nice personal touch to the nursery.”

You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes and quickly wipe them away, smiling at Niall through your emotion. “It’s beautiful. Thank you so much.”

“Oi, don’t cry!” Niall exclaims, half-teasing, half-concerned. “I’m supposed to be helping, not making you emotional.”

“Too late for that,” Louis mutters with a grin, leaning over to kiss your temple.

As you calm yourself, Niall spreads out the brochures on the coffee table, motioning for you and Louis to join him. “Alright, so I’ve got ideas for themes, color palettes, furniture—you name it.”

For the next hour, the three of you pour over the brochures, debating everything from neutral tones to bright pops of color. Niall’s enthusiasm is infectious, and soon, you and Louis are bouncing ideas off him as if he’s an honorary interior designer.

“Okay, so we’re thinking stars and moons as a theme,” Niall says, scribbling notes on a pad he brought along. “Soft blues, creams, and maybe a touch of gold for accents. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” Louis agrees, glancing at you for confirmation.

You nod, feeling excitement bubble up for the first time about putting the nursery together. “I love it. Thank you for this, Niall. Really.”

“Hey, anything for my favourite little family,” he says with a wink. “Now, let’s figure out where to start shopping!”

...

The bedroom is chaos—dresses strewn everywhere, shoes kicked off into random corners, and the vanity cluttered with makeup and jewelry. You’re standing in front of the mirror, glaring at your reflection as your hands tug at the hem of the dress you’ve been trying to make work for the past ten minutes.

Tonight’s event is a big one—a fancy charity gala where you and the boys are expected to make an appearance. You’re thrilled to see everyone again and can’t wait to catch up with Harry, Zayn, Liam, and Niall. It’s been too long since you’ve all been in the same place, laughing and joking like old times.

But instead of being excited about the evening, you’re caught up in the growing frustration of trying to find something—anything—that makes you feel good. At 33 weeks pregnant, nothing seems to fit the way you want, and the insecurity has hit harder than usual with the thought of facing the paparazzi tonight.

“God,” you mutter under your breath, smoothing your hands over the fabric clinging to your growing belly. “I look like a whale.”

From the doorway, Louis’ voice cuts in, light and teasing but laced with warmth. “Now, now, love. Don’t be insulting my gorgeous girlfriend like that.”

You spin to see him leaning casually against the doorframe, and your heart skips a beat. He looks devastatingly good in a tailored black suit, the crisp white shirt underneath unbuttoned just enough to hint at his collarbone. The sight of him, all sharp angles and boyish charm, takes the edge off your frustration for a moment.

But then you remember your reflection, and the frown returns. “Louis, I’m serious. Look at me! Nothing fits right, and I just look... huge.”

He steps into the room, his hands in his pockets, his eyes soft as they sweep over you. “You don’t look huge. You look like the absolute goddess that you are.”

You roll your eyes, unable to stop the bitter laugh that escapes. “Don’t start with that ‘glowing’ nonsense again.”

“Alright,” he says, grinning as he walks up to you. “How about this: You look hot.” His voice drops on the last word, and the heat in his tone makes your cheeks flush.

“Louis...”

“No, really,” he interrupts, his hands gently gripping your waist as he pulls you closer. His thumbs rub soft circles against your sides. “Do you know what it does to me, seeing you like this? These curves—” He lets his hands drift over your hips and down to the swell of your belly, his voice turning low and full of mischief. “—every last one of them. You’re even more irresistible than usual.”

Your breath hitches, your earlier frustration melting under his gaze. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Nope,” he says, popping the p with a cheeky grin. “I’m saying it because it’s true. You’re carrying our baby, love. You’re the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen. And if you weren’t so annoyed at this dress, I’d probably have to pin you against the wall right now and show you just how much I mean it.”

You laugh despite yourself, swatting his chest lightly. “Louis!”

“What?” he says, his grin turning softer as he cups your cheek. “It’s the truth. You’re gorgeous, and I’m the luckiest man alive.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and tears well up in your eyes. “You really think so?”

“Always,” he promises, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. It’s soft and lingering, filled with the kind of reassurance that settles deep in your heart.

When he pulls back, he tugs at the dress slightly. “This one’s perfect, by the way. You’re going to steal the show tonight.”

You glance back at the mirror, and for the first time all evening, you see what he sees—a woman who’s radiant, strong, and glowing with life.

“Okay,” you whisper, nodding. “Let’s do this.”

“That’s my girl.” He steps back, offering you his arm. “And don’t worry, love—I’ll be by your side the whole time. If any of those photographers so much as look at you wrong, they’ll have to answer to me.”

You laugh as you loop your arm through his, already feeling lighter. “I think I might actually be excited now. I can’t wait to see the boys.”

“They can’t wait to see you either,” Louis says as he leads you out. “Though I’ll have to remind them to keep their hands off—you’re mine, after all.”

The cheeky wink he throws your way has you rolling your eyes, but the smile that spreads across your face is undeniable. As the two of you head out, your heart feels full, and for the first time all evening, you’re not thinking about how you look—you’re just thinking about how loved you feel.

...

The event is in full swing by the time you and Louis step out of the car, hand in hand. The red carpet is dazzling under the flashes of the cameras, and though the noise and chaos of it all make your nerves twinge, Louis’ steady grip keeps you grounded.

“You ready for this, love?” he murmurs, leaning close as you approach the entrance.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you reply, squeezing his hand.

The moment you step into the venue, a wave of warmth washes over you. Familiar faces greet you—celebrities, industry professionals, and longtime supporters of the charity the event is for. The boys are already scattered around, chatting and laughing with guests, but they immediately light up when they see you.

“There she is!” Niall grins, making his way over with a drink in hand. “How’s my favorite mum-to-be?”

“Excited to see all of you,” you say with a smile, accepting his gentle hug.

“You’re glowing,” Harry comments as he approaches, his charm dialed up as always. “And Louis, mate, look at you—ever the doting partner.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Louis quips, a proud smile spreading across his face.

Zayn and Liam join the group shortly after, their greetings just as warm. It feels like coming home, surrounded by the boys’ easy banter and genuine affection. For the first time in what feels like weeks, you’re not thinking about how tired or sore you are—you’re just enjoying the moment.

Throughout the evening, you catch up with old friends and acquaintances. There’s laughter, heartfelt congratulations, and even a few playful jabs at Louis, who takes it all in stride with his usual humor.

“You two are going to be amazing parents,” Rita Ora says with a warm smile. “And if your kid has even half the personality you both do, the world’s in for a treat.”

The words make you blush, and Louis beams, pulling you a little closer. “We’ll do our best,” he says.

But as the night wears on, the energy in the room shifts. The press and paparazzi start to linger closer, their questions and cameras becoming more invasive. You try to brush it off, but the constant attention starts to grate on your nerves.

“Over here, Louis! How’s fatherhood treating you?”

“Y/N, what are you most nervous about with the baby on the way?”

The questions come rapid-fire, and while Louis does his best to shield you, the noise and flashing lights start to feel suffocating.

It’s Niall who notices first. “Alright, that’s enough,” he says firmly, stepping in front of you. “Give her some space, yeah?”

Harry and Liam are quick to follow, their presence forming a protective barrier around you.

“She’s here to enjoy the night, not be interrogated,” Zayn adds, his voice calm but sharp enough to cut through the chaos.

Louis’ hand never leaves yours as he turns to the crowd, his tone steady but laced with warning. “You’ve got your photos. Now, back off.”

The collective effort of all the boys is enough to send the press retreating, and you breathe a sigh of relief as the noise dies down.

“You alright, love?” Louis asks, his concern evident as he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah,” you say, offering a small smile. “Thanks to all of you.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Niall says, flashing you a reassuring grin.

“And we’ll always be,” Harry adds, his hand resting briefly on your shoulder.

The rest of the evening passes more smoothly, the boys making sure to stay close and keep things light. By the time you’re heading home, you feel a renewed sense of gratitude—not just for Louis, but for the incredible group of men you’re lucky enough to call family.

...

The living room is filled with tension as you pace back and forth, your frustration bubbling over with every step. Everything feels wrong today. Your back is aching, your feet are swollen, and every piece of furniture you attempt to sit on seems determined to make you uncomfortable.

Louis, perched on the armrest of the couch, watches you with cautious concern. “Love, you’re wearing a path in the carpet. Why don’t you take a breather?”

You whip around, your glare sharp enough to make him straighten up. “A breather? Louis, I’ve been sitting and breathing for months. That’s all I can do anymore because of this!” You motion to your belly, which feels impossibly large and heavy.

Louis raises his hands in mock surrender, his tone soft and steady. “Alright, I get it. You’re uncomfortable. But snapping at me isn’t going to make it better.”

“Oh, don’t you dare start with the rational advice,” you snap back, planting your hands on your hips. “This is your fault, you know. You’re the one who got me into this mess!”

Louis blinks, and then, to your utter annoyance, he laughs. “I seem to recall you being pretty enthusiastic about it at the time.”

“That’s not the point!” you grumble, turning away from him. “I’m tired, and miserable, and I still have over a month to go. And everything we’ve bought for the baby is scattered in bags—we haven’t even started the nursery yet!”

At that, Louis gets to his feet, his teasing demeanor giving way to something softer. He steps behind you, his hands settling on your shoulders. “You’re right. We’ve been so busy, and you’ve been dealing with so much. But how about this—we’ll tackle the nursery today?”

You glance over your shoulder, skepticism written all over your face. “How? We’ve barely got a plan.”

“Well,” he says, grinning as he pulls out his phone, “I might’ve already texted Niall to come over. Figured he’d be good for some nursery shopping. You know how he loves planning things.”

Your frustration falters, replaced by a mix of surprise and relief. “You invited Niall?”

“Of course,” Louis says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “He’s been asking about when we’re getting started. Thought he might cheer you up a bit too.”

Before you can respond, there’s a knock at the door, followed by the familiar sound of Niall’s voice. “Alright, lovebirds, open up! Let’s get to work!”

Louis smirks and nudges you toward the door. “See? He’s already fired up. You can direct the two of us while we carry the heavy stuff.”

When you open the door, Niall greets you with a warm grin and a small stack of baby catalogues tucked under his arm. “Got some ideas for you,” he says, stepping inside. “Thought we could hit the shops, grab some furniture, maybe a few cute decorations.”

The sight of him, so eager and supportive, melts the last of your irritation. “Thanks, Niall. I could really use the help.”

“Anything for you,” he says with a wink, then glances down at your belly. “And for this little one too. Let’s make their room amazing, yeah?”

With Niall’s infectious enthusiasm and Louis’s steady encouragement, the day starts to look a little brighter. You feel a spark of excitement as you all head out, ready to take on the task together. Maybe things aren’t so bad after all.

…

The nursery has become ground zero for chaos. What started with Louis and Niall quickly spiraled when Niall decided to text the rest of the boys, and now your small house is filled with One Direction in full, uncoordinated action.

Zayn is unpacking boxes at lightning speed, scattering items across the floor with no apparent organization. Harry is flipping through wall color samples and making dramatic pitches about the “calming energy of sage green,” while Liam has somehow become the self-designated foreman, holding a clipboard he found somewhere and jotting down “essential steps.”

You stand in the doorway, arms crossed, watching the whirlwind with a mixture of amusement and mounting irritation. “Are any of you actually doing something productive, or are you just here to make my life harder?”

“Oi, we’re helping!” Niall protests, holding up a tiny set of baby booties like a trophy. “Look at these—they’re adorable!”

“Yeah, well, the baby can’t wear them if we don’t have a proper dresser to put them in,” you snap, pointing to the unopened flatpack still leaning against the wall.

“Got it!” Louis says, stepping up and grabbing the box. “Zayn, give me a hand with this.”

“Why me?” Zayn grumbles, but he joins Louis anyway.

As they start fumbling with the assembly instructions, Harry sidles up to you with a charming grin. “You know, love, you should sit down. Stress isn’t good for you or the baby.”

“Don’t ‘love’ me right now,” you say, leveling a glare at him. “I’m pregnant, not fragile. And maybe I wouldn’t be so stressed if you all weren’t treating this like a circus!”

Harry holds up his hands in surrender, his grin never faltering. “Noted.”

From the corner, Liam clears his throat. “Alright, team, let’s focus. We’ve got a crib to assemble, a dresser to build, and a lot of decorations to hang. Let’s divide and conquer.”

The boys spring into action—or rather, varying levels of action. Niall and Harry are surprisingly efficient at assembling the crib, though they keep breaking into fits of laughter. Louis and Zayn bicker over which screws go where for the dresser, and Liam is busy taping up a diagram of the “ideal layout” on the wall.

You sit down in the corner with a sigh, your irritation ebbing slightly as you watch their antics. Despite the chaos, there’s something endearing about how hard they’re all trying.

Niall looks up and catches your eye. “You alright over there?”

“I’m fine,” you mutter, though your tone is softer now.

“Good,” he says with a wink. “Because this room’s going to be perfect, just you wait.”

By the time the afternoon rolls around, the nursery is actually starting to take shape. The crib is standing proudly in the corner, the dresser is fully assembled (though slightly wonky), and the walls are adorned with a mix of shelves, photos, and baby-themed decorations.

You find yourself smiling as you inspect their work. “Not bad,” you admit grudgingly.

“Not bad?” Louis repeats, pretending to be offended. “Love, this is a masterpiece!”

“It is,” you say, and this time, your smile reaches your eyes. “Thanks, guys. I mean it.”

The boys beam at you, their camaraderie making your chest feel a little lighter. For the first time in weeks, you feel like everything might actually be okay.

…

At 36 weeks pregnant you’re standing in the living room, rubbing your lower back and silently cursing how heavy and tired you feel. Louis has been oddly insistent about keeping you distracted all morning, encouraging you to take a long bath and pick out something comfortable to wear for what he cryptically called “a little outing later.”

But as you waddle into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, you hear a sudden burst of noise behind you.

“Surprise!”

You freeze, turning slowly to find the living room filled with familiar faces. Louis is at the forefront, grinning from ear to ear, and behind him are Niall, Zayn, Harry, and Liam, all looking ridiculously pleased with themselves. But it doesn’t stop there—Louis’ mum, Johanna, is there too, along with his sisters, and even a few of your mutual friends. The house is decorated with pastel-colored balloons and banners that read “Welcome Baby Tomlinson!”

Your hands fly to your mouth as a flood of emotions rushes over you. “What is this?”

“It’s your baby shower, love!” Louis announces, stepping forward to press a kiss to your temple. “Figured you deserved to be spoiled a bit.”

“More like a lot,” Niall says, pointing to the dining table, which is groaning under the weight of gifts, snacks, and a massive cake shaped like a baby bottle.

“You’re all insane,” you mutter, but your voice wobbles with gratitude.

“Insanely good at keeping secrets,” Harry teases, handing you a mocktail garnished with fruit.

The next couple of hours fly by in a blur of laughter, games, and heartfelt moments. The boys take every opportunity to dote on you, fetching your drinks, snacks, and even a cushion for your back when you sit down to open presents.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here,” you say, carefully tearing into a brightly wrapped box while everyone watches. Inside, there’s a tiny blue onesie with the words “I Get My Charm from Daddy” printed across the front.

Louis grins proudly. “That’s from me. Accurate, isn’t it?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help laughing. “Of course it is.”

Zayn’s gift is next—a beautifully illustrated baby book that’s both sentimental and stylish. “Thought it’d be nice to keep track of all the little moments,” he says casually, though you catch the warmth in his smile.

Niall presents you with a custom plush bear that has ‘Baby Tomlinson’ embroidered on the paw. “Figured I’d get a head start on being the favorite uncle,” he says with a wink.

“Don’t start that war, mate,” Liam warns with a chuckle, handing over his gift—a baby carrier that looks both practical and impossibly sleek.

Harry, ever the joker, gives you a pair of baby sunglasses. “Because no child of yours and Louis’ is going to leave the house without style.”

The highlight of the day, though, comes when Johanna stands to make a little speech. “I just want to say how proud I am of you both,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re going to be amazing parents, and I can’t wait to meet my newest grandbaby.”

Her words bring tears to your eyes, and when she pulls you into a warm hug, you cling to her tightly.

As the afternoon winds down, you find yourself leaning against Louis on the couch, surrounded by laughter and love. He kisses your temple and whispers, “Happy?”

“More than happy,” you murmur, your hand resting on your belly as the baby gives a little kick in response. “Thank you for this, Lou. It means everything.”

“Anything for you,” he says softly, and the sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell.

…

The house is finally quiet, the baby shower a beautiful but exhausting memory. You’re lying in bed, your head nestled against Louis’ chest as his fingers trace soothing patterns over your belly. The day’s excitement has left you both drained but content, his soft kisses to your hair a gentle lullaby as you drift toward sleep.

But a sharp, tight sensation grips your abdomen, pulling you out of your haze. Your breath catches, and you sit up suddenly, clutching your belly.

“Louis,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Something’s wrong.”

He’s instantly alert, sitting up beside you and flipping on the bedside lamp. His blue eyes search yours, his expression calm but concerned. “What is it, love? Are you in pain?”

You nod, wincing as another wave of tightness washes over you. “It’s—it hurts. I think it might be contractions?”

His face softens with understanding, and he places a steadying hand on your arm. “Alright, take a deep breath. It might be Braxton Hicks, yeah? Practice contractions. Remember, the midwife said they could happen.”

“This doesn’t feel like practice!” you cry, gripping his hand as another cramp rolls through.

“I know, darling, I know,” he murmurs, shifting closer. “Let me help. Come on, let’s get you in a warm bath. It’ll help relax those muscles.”

You nod hesitantly, and he helps you to your feet, steadying you with a supportive arm around your waist. In the bathroom, he quickly fills the tub with warm water, his hands working efficiently but gently as he adds a bit of lavender bubble bath to soothe you further.

“Come on, love,” he says, helping you step in. The warmth engulfs you immediately, easing the tightness in your belly and the tension in your back.

“Better?” he asks, kneeling beside the tub, his hand slipping into the water to gently massage your leg.

“A little,” you admit, leaning back against the edge and closing your eyes as the heat works its magic.

Louis doesn’t leave your side for a second. He rests on the edge of the tub, his hand skimming soft, lazy patterns over your wet skin. He presses kisses to your shoulder, his lips lingering as though trying to will the pain away.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he whispers, his voice warm and full of awe.

You open one eye, giving him a tired but wry smile. “I don’t feel very amazing right now.”

“Well, you are,” he insists, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your knee. “You’re carrying our little one, love. That’s nothing short of magic.”

The cramps begin to subside as the water soothes your body, and his tender care melts away the fear that had gripped you.

When the water starts to cool, Louis helps you out of the bath, wrapping you in a soft towel and guiding you back to bed. He dries you off with gentle precision, then helps you into one of his oversized shirts, which feels like a warm hug against your skin.

“Let’s get you comfy,” he murmurs, tucking you into bed and slipping in beside you. His arms wrap around you instantly, pulling you close so you’re nestled against his chest.

His hand finds your belly again, and he begins to draw those lazy patterns once more, his touch soothing and grounding. He peppers kisses along your hairline and murmurs sweet reassurances into your ear.

“You’re doing so well, love,” he says softly. “I’ll be here every step of the way. You and me, yeah?”

Tears well up in your eyes at his tenderness. “You’re too good to me, Louis.”

“Not possible,” he replies, grinning as he presses a lingering kiss to your lips.

The combination of his warmth, the bath, and his calming presence lulls you into a much-needed sleep. Even as you drift off, you feel his hand on your belly, steady and protective, like an unspoken promise that no matter what, you’ll face it together.

…

A week later the clock strikes two in the morning when you’re jolted awake. The sharp pain in your lower abdomen pulls you from a restless sleep, and you sit up with a gasp, clutching your belly.

You try to breathe through it, thinking it’s just another Braxton Hicks contraction, but the pain intensifies quickly, coming in waves. The rhythm is different—this isn’t like anything you’ve felt before.

You glance over at Louis, who’s still sound asleep beside you. His peaceful expression gives way to your growing panic. You take a deep breath, trying to remain calm, but the contractions hit again, stronger this time.

“Louis,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

He doesn’t stir. You try again, louder. “Louis!”

This time, he bolts awake, eyes wide as he sees the panic in your face. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice full of concern.

“I think… I think it’s happening,” you manage to say between breaths, gripping the edge of the bed as another contraction hits.

Louis’ eyes widen, and without missing a beat, he jumps out of bed, already grabbing his phone to call for help. “Alright, love, breathe. We’ve got this, okay? Just breathe.”

You nod, though it’s hard to focus with the waves of pain coursing through you. “Louis, it hurts,” you gasp, pressing your hands to your belly, but it doesn’t seem to help.

He comes back to the bed, kneeling in front of you. “I know it hurts, love. Just keep breathing with me, alright? Focus on my voice.” He places a hand on your back, rubbing it gently. “I’m right here. We’re going to get through this.”

You try to focus on him, on his soothing words, but it’s hard. The contractions are coming faster now, and you can’t seem to catch your breath.

“Louis,” you whimper, “I need to go to the hospital. It’s really happening, isn’t it?”

He looks at you with determination, his voice calm but firm. “It is, love. We’re heading there now. I’m gonna call everyone, okay? Just focus on me. You’re doing amazing.”

He helps you to your feet, steadying you as another contraction hits. You lean into him, your breath shaky as the pain pulses through you.

The next few minutes are a blur—Louis calling Niall, telling him to head to the hospital, getting you dressed, making sure everything is in the car, and keeping his eyes on you the entire time.

As he helps you out the door, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “We’re so close, love. You’re so strong. I’m so proud of you.”

You try to smile, but another contraction grips you, and you bite your lip to keep from crying out.

“Just keep breathing, love,” Louis says, his voice low and comforting. “We’re almost there.”

The drive to the hospital feels like it takes forever. Louis keeps talking to you, his voice steady, telling you how amazing you’re doing. You focus on his voice, on his hand holding yours, doing everything you can to ignore the overwhelming pain.

By the time you arrive at the hospital, the contractions are constant, one after another, no more than a minute apart. You’re sweating, your face flushed, but Louis never lets go of your hand.

He’s right beside you as you’re checked in, his hand on the small of your back as he rubs soothing circles to calm you.

The nurses lead you to a delivery room, where everything starts to blur together. There’s the constant beeping of monitors, the bustling of the staff around you, and Louis’ voice, always in your ear, grounding you.

“You’re doing amazing, love,” Louis says again, bending down to kiss your forehead. “You’re so strong. I can see it.”

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as the pain increases, but you’re too focused on getting through it to cry. The room feels small, the air thick with tension, but there’s a sense of comfort in Louis’ presence.

After what feels like hours of agony, the doctor finally says it’s time.

“You’re doing great,” the doctor reassures, giving Louis a nod. “We’re just going to take it one step at a time. You’ve got this.”

Louis kisses your forehead once more, his hand holding yours tightly. “I love you, so much. I’ll be right here the whole time.”

With his words, you push through the pain, ready to meet the little one who’s been growing inside you for all these months.

As the contractions intensify, you grip Louis’ hand harder, feeling like your body is being torn apart with every wave of pain. The pressure is unbearable, but Louis is right there, steadying you with his calm presence. His hand is firm around yours, his voice never wavering as he speaks soothingly.

“You’re doing amazing, love. Just breathe. I’m right here, okay? You’ve got this,” he reassures you, his face a mixture of love and concern, his eyes locked on yours with unwavering intensity.

The pain is all-consuming, but you focus on Louis’ words, his warmth, his touch. Every breath feels like it takes everything you have, but you know you’re not alone. Then, just as the pressure becomes too much to bear, Niall bursts into the room, his face lighting up at the sight of you.

“You’re doing great!” he says, his voice full of encouragement as he comes to stand beside Louis. His presence offers a little relief, a welcome distraction from the pain.

Louis gives Niall a quick nod, but his focus never leaves you. “Just breathe, love. We’re almost there. You’ve got this.”

The next contraction hits hard, and you squeeze both their hands, digging your nails into their palms as the room spins with the intensity of it all. Louis whispers words of love and support in your ear, trying to ground you. But it’s so much, so overwhelming, the pain, the anticipation, the excitement.

“I can’t do this,” you breathe out, tears streaming down your face, your chest heaving with each breath.

“You are doing this,” Louis insists, his voice fierce with love. “We’re almost there. You’re about to meet our little boy.”

That one word—boy—takes your breath away, filling you with a new burst of strength. Your baby. Your son. The thought of holding him in your arms keeps you going.

With a cry of effort, you push through the next wave of contractions, your body straining against the pain. Louis is right beside you, his hand in yours, Niall standing next to him, both of them encouraging you through it.

“Just one more push, love,” Louis says, his voice barely a whisper, but it’s all you can hear. His forehead presses against yours, his hand stroking your hair, his words like a promise. “You’re so close. I’m so proud of you.”

Another contraction comes, and you push with everything you have left. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but the relief that comes afterward is indescribable. You feel the shift, the pressure releasing, and then you hear it.

The sound of your baby crying fills the room, and your heart stops for a moment. The tears well in your eyes as you look up at Louis. “We did it,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

Louis’s face is lit up with awe and love. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then looks down at you, his voice full of emotion. “We have a son, love. Our beautiful boy.”

The nurse gently places the tiny baby on your chest, and you can’t help but gasp as you look at his tiny face, his little hands. He’s perfect in every way.

Niall steps forward, his voice shaky with emotion. “He’s beautiful,” he says, his smile wide and full of joy. “Congrats, guys. He’s a little champion.”

Louis leans down, brushing his lips against your temple, his hand resting softly on the small of your back. “I love you both so much,” he whispers. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive.”

You look down at your baby, tears streaming down your face as you hold him close. Louis is beside you, his hand in yours, and you both gaze down at your son, a love more overwhelming than you ever thought possible swelling in your chest. This is your family now. And in this moment, you couldn’t be happier.

…

A little while later, the door to the room opens gently, and one by one, the rest of the boys filter in, their faces lighting up as they take in the sight before them. You and Louis are lying together, exhausted but content, with your tiny son nestled between you. He’s already asleep, his little hands curled into tiny fists, his face serene and perfect.

Harry is the first to speak, his voice soft and full of wonder. “Mate,” he says, his eyes glistening with emotion, “he’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Zayn steps forward, his usual calm demeanor giving way to pure awe. “He looks just like you, Louis,” he murmurs, a gentle smile on his lips as he leans closer to get a better look at the baby. “This is incredible.”

Liam looks at you both with pride in his eyes, a grin spreading across his face. “Congratulations, you two. He’s going to be so loved. He’s got an amazing family.”

Niall stands just a little behind the others, his eyes wide with excitement. “I can’t believe it,” he says, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. “You guys are parents. This little guy’s going to be spoiled with love from all of us.”

Louis, still beaming, glances over at you, his eyes soft and full of love. “It’s the first One Direction baby,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “He’s going to be loved by all of us—by his uncles, his mum, his dad.” His voice breaks for a moment, and he looks down at his son, shaking his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe he’s here.”

“You’re going to be an amazing dad, Louis,” Harry says with a grin, giving him a playful nudge. “And you, too,” he adds, turning to you. “You’re gonna be the best mum ever.”

The boys gather around the bed, their attention completely captivated by the tiny little life you and Louis created. There’s a lightness in the room now, a quiet joy as they all take turns peeking at the baby, their voices filled with excitement, pride, and the unspoken bond they all share with him already.

“You’ve all got to teach him all the good stuff,” Niall says, his eyes twinkling. “Like how to play guitar, of course.”

“And all the best football teams,” Zayn adds, winking at Louis. “We’ve got to teach him everything we know.”

Louis chuckles softly, his gaze never leaving his son. “He’s going to grow up surrounded by love. I can already tell he’s going to have all the best role models.”

Liam places a hand on Louis’ shoulder, his expression sincere. “He’s going to be one lucky kid, with all of you around him.”

You watch the scene unfold, your heart swelling as you realize just how much love is in the room for your baby. Your son. Your beautiful boy is already surrounded by a family who will protect him, guide him, and love him with everything they have.

And in this moment, you know that your little one is going to grow up with a support system unlike any other, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Louis kisses your forehead, his hand resting on the back of your head, pulling you gently against him. “We did good, didn’t we?” he murmurs. You nod, feeling every ounce of joy and love in your heart. You did good. Together, you made something incredible. And as the boys laugh and chat around you, you know this is just the beginning of an incredible journey for your family.

…

Author’s note: I hope you guys enjoyed this mini series!

#louis tomlinson x pregnant reader #louis tomlinson x y/n #louis tomlinson x reader #louis tomlinson x you #louis tomlinson fanfiction #one direction fan fiction

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slippytapeworms · 7 months ago

Text

2D -> Falling In Love With You

warnings : none

scenario :

plastic beach definitely wasn't 2d's favourite place in the world since murdoc had forced him here. but what made it bearable was that you were here along with him.

you had recently joined the gorillaz crew as an artist, helping to design new album covers and stage setups. that's one of the many things that enticed 2d about you. from the moment you arrived, 2d found himself drawn to your presence, your laughter, and the way you saw beauty in the chaos around you.

it was a sunny morning at plastic beach, the gentle waves lapping against the shore and the sound of seagulls in the distance. 2d was sitting on the edge of the pier, his feet dangling over the water. his usually spaced out eyes searching for something, or rather, someone.

as he sat there, he just looked back down at the water. his bare feet dangled just out of reach from the water. he wasn't paying attention when he heard footsteps coming closer to him, just small pitter patter to be heard.

2d looked back and saw you. as you walked down the pier toward him, 2d's heart skipped a beat. he tried to act natural, threading his fingers through his blue hair and giving you a lopsided grin.

you return the smile and sit down beside him, your shoulder brushing against his. "what's on your mind?" you ask.

the male shrugs. "just thinkin' bout some new songs... you know gettin' inspired by the view." you don't miss the glance he makes your way, his cheeks warm. "you're good at that, y'know. inspiration."

you laugh, a sound that makes 2d's heart flutter every single time. "thanks. you should give yourself more credit. you help me with my inspiration too, in fact you're my main source of inspiration..."

your words just make him flush and he just nods silently.

⟨ time skip ⟩

over the next few days, you notice 2d's behaviour changing. he would bring you small gifts. seashells he had found on the sand, a medium sized fairy light jar he made himself. he had also given you a drawing he had made. little did you know that he had drawn a visual representation of the sound waves from a recording of him saying 'i love you'.

2d would often seek you out, sitting close to you during meals or joining you during your works around the island.

one afternoon, while you were painting a mural on one of the walls, 2d approached you with a shy smile. "is there something i could help you with?"

as you thought, an idea popped into your head. "i'm glad you asked that, can you stand here?" you positioned him so that his back was flat against the wall. 2d blushed and flusteredly just let you push him up against the wall.

you take out the paint brush and dip it in the paint. "you can relax, just stand there." he nods, his usual aloofness disappearing in a pinch as he relaxes at your words.

2d just watched as you started painting around his silhouette. he adored how you were so considerate to not get any paint on him. he just couldn't help all the butterflies rising in his stomach as he stays still.

goddamn how could you be so considerate and delicate with him? so understanding. you looked at him like he really and truly mattered.

when you were done tracing around his whole being with paint, 2d keeps still. you laugh at the cute, aloof expression on his face and instinctively ruffle his hair. you were just making him a puddle of affection and fuzzy feelings for you.

that's it, he was in love with you.

i'n still fairly new to the gorillaz lore so please don't get mad if i make a mistake of the timeline please !

#2d #2d x reader #gorillaz #gorillaz x reader #fanfic #scenario #Spotify

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 1 year ago

Note

You know how small children, especially toddlers who just started walking and talking could be, so I'm curious how the turtles would handle their oldest kidd at this age especially since they never got to interact and take care of kids before this. From my personal experience, toddlers can be either innocent and cute little angels or annoying devils who bother everyone in public if they don't get what they want

First Steps or Words (Fluff)

Bayverse!Turtles x reader

A/N: I’m not fully sure what you mean with toddlers just having learned to walk and talk, as kids typically take their first step or say their first word during the infant stage, but it could very well be my limited English that is getting in the way here😅 Anyway, in my internship I work with kids in the age group of 3 - 5, so I agree and disagree. Kids have a limited knowledge, both of themselves and their surroundings. Oftentimes they don’t think of how their actions can affect others, which is then my job to help them understand, and at the same time help them verbalize their emotions in a better way. But boy, sometimes the last thing you need is 4 year old that’s crying over something so simple as a toy, even though to them it's their whole world at that moment😭 Enough of that, time for some cute stuff💙❤️💜🧡

Warnings: I already had baby fever before this, so I don’t know if you guys will get it too😭💚

Leonardo:

Never had Leo thought he would get to experience something like this. You and him in your shared bedroom, relaxing after a long day of working, with little baby Romeo smiling and giggling in the bed, kicking around in his little onesie. Your son had been a giggling delight all day, making all sorts of sounds from his play pen, almost distracting you, Leo and the first of the turtles in your work, building to extend the lair so that there would be space for your growing family.

Recently, Romeo had learned of a new sound to make, showing it off proudly with or without a crowd to watch or hear him. Pressing his lips together with his tongue poking out, Romeo would blow out air, creating what sounded like a fart noise, with bubbles of spit forming where the air came out.

This was nothing new to you, having seen many human babies do things like that, either on the internet or in real life. You didn’t find it any less cute however, you had just known that Romeo would start doing it at some point. Leo however, was totally mesmerized. He had never seen nor heard a baby make noises like that, even though he watched hundreds of baby videos after the day he learned you were pregnant. But nothing prepared Leo for how fast it was going. In less than a year, Romeo had gotten from this little emobile green bean with big staring eyes, to this little bundle of loud noises and kicking limbs. Leo’s heart swelled, and as he watched Romeo kick around on your shared bed as you and Leo was cleaning up for the night, Leo couldn’t stop himself from hovering over your son, nuzzling his beak against his little stomach, causing the young boy to let out a high pitch scream of laughter. Leo lifted his head from Romeo’s stomach, looking down at his smiling son as he pressed his lips together around his tongue, kicking his legs as he made the noise he had been making for the last few days.

“Bbrrrrrrr”, Romeo let out, small bubbles forming around his mouth, making it impossible for Leo not to smile.

“Bbbrrrrrrrr”, Leo said back to your son, the small child laughing at his mimicking, reaching out for him, his small hands touching Leo’s face.

“Is daddy being silly?”, you asked in a baby voice, smiling with a chuckle as Romeo continued his small sounds, only for Leo to say them back to him. Romeo let out a high pitched shriek with a big smile, holding on to Leo’s face as his bright small eyes started at him. You wouldn’t help but smile as you watched the two of them, feeling warm throughout your body. It was wonderful to see Leo be so calm and loose around his child. He was truly at peace. “I think daddy’s being silly”, you teased, causing Leo to poke his tongue out at you as Romeo rambled on.

“No, daddy is having fun”, he said, turning his attention back towards the rambling Romeo.

“Brrrr, ba, babababa, dadadadada”.

You and Leo stared at each other in shock. Did you hear right? Did Romeo just say what you thought he said? All of your questions were soon answered when Romeo reached out for Leo once more, continuing his newly learned word.

“Dadadada”.

“That’s right!”, Leo exclaimed, picking up the happily screaming Romeo. “I’m dada! I’m your dada! Did you hear that mama?! He said dada!”

Raphael:

There was nothing more entertaining than watching Joan crawl around the floor, trying to get from one place to another, closely following behind either you or Raph as you walked around the lair. With her small arms and legs and what you could only describe as a happy battle cry, she tried to keep you the best she could, soon gaining very strong leg muscles that could push her around the floor with ease. It was just a matter of time before she would start walking, and Raph was more than ready for that.

Everyday, Raph watched Joan intently, waiting for the moment she would start walking around on her small legs. He was fully intended to see her first steps, especially after having heard Leo complain more than once that he wasn’t home to watch his own son’s first steps. Raph wouldn’t make the same mistake. He would be there with a front row view when his first born started walking. But so far, she had only been crawling or sitting on her but, screaming loudly before following people around.

But Raph never once gave up hope, continuing to watch Joan each and every day, for the moment she would start carrying herself around on only two limbs. Which was one of the many reasons why he now sat on your shared bedroom floor on Joan’s playmate, with the young child between his legs, hoping that she would support herself on him and start walking. You sat on the bed, watching them with a smile, feeling your heart swell as Raph baby talked with your daughter.

You could have stayed there and watched them for hours, had your parents not called, asking about the next time they could come and visit you and Raph, and see their adorable little granddaughter. Therefore you stood up with your mother on the phone, heading towards the living area, in order to hear the other turtles and their partners, if they were okay with your parents coming over that following weekend.

And just like any other time, when either you or Raph stood up around little Joan, she looked in your direction, let out a high pitch sound before following you, supporting herself on Raph’s legs. Raph held his breath, waiting for the moment Joan would let go, and follow without anything supporting her. But as soon as she let go of Raph, she fell to her knees and started crawling for the door.

Raph chuckled, only slightly disappointed that Joan didn’t walk, but highly amused by her determination. “Don’t worry sweetpea”, he said. “Mommy will be back in just a moment”.

Joan sat back on her butt, looking at Raph for a moment with her fingers in her mouth, before she let out another sound, crawling back towards him. Or that was what Raph thought she was going to do. As she placed her hands on the ground, just like she usually did when she crawled, she did not start to move forward. Instead she used them to push herself off the ground, before wopling on her own two feet.

Raph let out the biggest shriek you had never heard, making you stop and turn in the living area, your mother still on the phone. Flailing around on the ground with his arms open, as if to tell her to come to him, Raph called out for you. “Babe! She’s walking! (Y/N)! She’s walking!”

You almost fell back into the room at the sound of Raph’s shriek, almost forgetting about your mother on the phone, not hearing her concerned questions, fearing that the roof was falling down on top of Raph and Joan. So did you for a moment, not registering the words Raph had yelled, but the sight of Joan taking small hesitant steps towards Raph was almost enough to make you fall to your knees with your arms open as well.

“Mom!”, you yelled into the phone, turning on the camera so she could follow along. “She’s walking! Joan’s walking!”, you continued to yell, capturing the moment Joan walked straight into Raph’s arms with a bright smile.

Donatello:

Have you ever seen a baby get mad, when they can’t do the things people around them can? Well, that was Galileo when it came to walking. Watching his parents, uncles, ants, grandparents and cousins walk, while he was stuck on the floor was enough to make him angry, supporting himself on everything, trying his best to walk on his own. But it was the same story every time. As soon as Gali let go of whatever he was holding onto, he fell to the ground with a sad and angry expression. He wanted to walk!

You and Donnie did your best, lending him a helping hand whenever he wanted to walk, feeling pure happiness when you saw the big smile upon his face and heard his loud happy noises. But there were times where you couldn’t help him, or walk him in circles around the living area for hours. But Gali wanted that. He wanted to walk so bad, almost to the point where he got hysterical when he was tired. So you and Donnie did what you could do and helped him practice, enjoying his laughter and smile and how it brightened your world up.

One day, you and Donnie found yourselves sitting in the middle of the living area, sitting on the floor in front of each other with your legs out scratched. You held Gali’s hands in yours, his infectious laughter making both you and Donnie break out in bright smiles as you watched your son stand on his wobbly legs, holding onto you in order to stay up.

“Come on, Gali”, you said, fighting not to break into another fit of laughter. “Go over to daddy”.

You slowly guided Gali forward with the help of your arms, Gali laughing all the way, even as Donnie took his hands from yours, helping him all the way into his embrace.

“Hey, big boy!”, Donnie smiled, causing Gali to throw his head back in further laughter. It was adorable. Donnie held Gali close in a hug, looking at his hysterically laughing son, taking off his own glasses in order to rub his eyes, that had glossed over in tears due to his own laughter. “I’ll never get enough of this!”

“Imagine how much he will laugh when he can walk on his own”, you said, massaging your cheeks as they started to hurt from all that laughing.

“I can’t wait to find out”, Donnie said, turning Gali back towards you, holding him by the sides. Still smiling wide, Gali looked back over his shoulder, smiling at Donnie, a little bit of drool running from the side of his mouth. “Go to mommy, Gali. It’s mommy’s turn”.

Gali started laughing again, his legs giving out under him, letting him fall down into Donnie’s lap. However Gali kept laughing, causing Donnie to hide his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking from his own chuckles.

Gali stopped laughing, and grabbed onto Donnie’s arm, pulling himself up on his feet. Donnie quickly recovered, ready to hold on to his son once more, only to find that Gali had already taken a few steps away from him, still holding onto his arm. And then Gali let go. Both you and Donnie expected him to fall to the ground, followed by loud crying, but that did not happen. Instead Gali continued to walk towards you, laughing and screaming happily as he did so, before almost falling into your arms, you and Donnie staring at each other in shock.

“Gali’s walking!”, Donnie exclaimed, as if he did not fully believe it.

“He is”, you said, letting go of your young son, only for him to walk back to Donnie with more happy screaming.

“You’re walking!”, Donnie yelled excitedly, lifting Gali up for a bear hug, the young boy screaming and laughing all the way.

Michelangelo:

Nothing could beat mornings like this. You and Mikey in the kitchen with Sunny in her high chair, eating alone together before the rest of the family woke up. Who would have thought that you and Mikey ever would become morning people? Well, neither you nor Mikey, but then you gave birth to a daughter that tended to rise with the sun every day, and there was nothing that would make her go back to sleep. But both of you had to admit it was nice, sitting just you three in the kitchen, engaging Sunny in small conversation, her small sounds and her finger that kept pointing everywhere with curiosity, without the rest of the family around. It wasn’t because you didn’t want the others around, no not all, but because when Mikey’s brothers and their partners woke up, then so did their toddlers. And as much as you loved your nephews and niece, it was nice with some time only for your little family, enjoying your early breakfast together.

Once all of you had finished eating, you would stay in the kitchen for a moment, waiting for the rest of the lair to wake up. During those moments, Mikey tended to take Sunny out of her highchair and set her on his lap, letting her play with his hands, the tails of his bandana, or whatever caught her wandering attention that morning. And today it was his thumb, her small fingers holding onto it as she made all the sounds she could think of.

“Mmmmm”, Sunny hummed, her small hands grabbing onto Mikey’s thumb, before putting it into her mouth with a small grin. “Mmmmmm”.

“Do you think she’s about to say her first word?”, Mikey asked, wiggling his thumb a little, making Sunny giggle. “I think she’ll say her first word today”.

“Yesterday you thought she was going to say her first word”, you smiled, chuckling at the drool that dripped from her mouth.

“Mmmmmm”, she continued, her bright blue eyes looking up at her father.

“What’s that?”, he asked, bouncing his leg slightly, making her giggle once again. “Are you about to say mommy?”

You rolled your eyes. For the past few weeks, Mikey had tried and tried his best, wanting Sunny’s first words to be your parental title. And why exactly? Well, because Mikey thought you deserved it. You gave birth to her, so at least her first words could be mommy.

“Mikey, she isn’t going to say mommy”, you said with a smile, shaking your head at your husband.

“Bet”, Mikey said, lifting Sunny up so that she was standing on his thigh with both his hands under her arms. “Come on, Sunshine, say mommy”.

“Mmmmmm”.

“Mikey”, you said in a teasing warning.

“Mmmmmm”, Sunny continued.

“Nono babe, she almost got it”, he said, his eyes never leaving her small face. “Come on, Sunny, say mommy. I know you can do it”.

“Mmmmm”, she said one more time, and then, suddenly. “Mikey!”

Mikey stared at Sunny in confusion while you broke out in laughter, Sunny giggling in the way she always did.

“No, no, Sunshine”, Mikey said with a chuckle of disbelief. “I’m daddy, not Mikey”.

“Mikey!”, she said with a big and bright smile, giggling even more at his confused expression. This was definitely not what he had expected, nor did he fully know how to react. But for a long time afterwards, no one was allowed to call him Mikey, until Sunny started calling him daddy.

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brainddeadd · 3 months ago

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Halloween Party

The New Jersey Devils' Halloween party was destined to be anything but normal. You knew that from the moment you walked into the venue—a rented-out lounge decked with fake cobwebs, jack-o-lanterns, and strobe lights—only to be tackled by a very enthusiastic Jack Hughes in full Spider-Man gear.

“Y/N!” Jack yells, wrapping you in a bear hug and lifting you off the ground. “You made it!”

“Put me down, Spidey,” you laugh, squirming in his grip.

Jack grins under his mask but finally sets you down, brushing invisible dust off your costume. “What even are you supposed to be?” he asks, squinting at your outfit.

“I’m a vampire,” you say, flashing the plastic fangs you barely managed to keep in.

“Cute.” Jack winks, slinging an arm around your shoulder just as Nico Hischier—dressed as a very convincing pirate—walks up, giving both of you a fond, exasperated look.

The lounge is packed with players, staff, and their partners—everyone dressed to the nines in goofy, spooky, or downright ridiculous costumes. Luke Hughes stands by the snack table, inspecting a bowl of candy with the kind of concentration you usually only see him use on the ice. He’s rocking a cowboy hat, boots, and a vest that’s way too small for his frame.

Dawson Mercer, meanwhile, has gone all-in with a werewolf costume, complete with fluffy ears and a tail that keeps smacking people as he walks by.

“I swear to God, Dawson,” you mutter, swatting at the tail when it brushes your arm again. “Control that thing.”

“It has a mind of its own!” Dawson defends himself with a mischievous grin.

As the night progresses, the chaos only multiplies.

Nico keeps trying to convince everyone to join him for a game of beer pong, insisting that pirates have an unfair advantage because they’re “naturally gifted at throwing things.” You’re not entirely sure that’s historically accurate, but no one argues with him.

Jack somehow convinces half the team to start a limbo competition—using a hockey stick, of course. Luke crushes it, his height somehow not being a disadvantage for once, though he nearly trips over his boots at the end.

Dawson, in typical Dawson fashion, sneaks up behind you at one point with a fake severed hand, pressing it to your shoulder.

You jump and swat him again. “You’re asking for a punch, Mercer.”

“Worth it,” he laughs, scampering off before you can retaliate.

The highlight of the night is, without a doubt, the costume contest.

You watch as Nico steps onto the makeshift stage, adjusting his pirate hat dramatically. “Arr, mateys,” he says, clearly enjoying himself way too much. “Who dares challenge the captain?”

Jack boos from the crowd. “Your hat’s crooked, Captain Fraud!”

“At least I didn’t dress as Spider-Man for the third year in a row!” Nico fires back, making everyone roar with laughter.

Luke takes the stage next, tipping his cowboy hat. He pulls out a toy gun from his holster and blows on the barrel dramatically, earning a mix of cheers and teasing catcalls from the crowd.

When it’s your turn, the boys start cheering before you even reach the stage.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” Jack chants, getting the whole room to join in.

You roll your eyes but strike a dramatic vampire pose, hissing playfully at the crowd. Nico, Jack, Luke, and Dawson lose it, clapping like you’ve just scored the winning goal in a playoff game.

“Best costume ever,” Dawson declares loudly, like a proud big brother.

After the contest wraps up (Nico wins because, as Jack puts it, “the pirate hat has plot armor”), the team settles into smaller groups, chatting and dancing to the Halloween playlist someone threw together.

Jack stays glued to your side for most of the night, making sure no one gives you too much grief—though he’s not above throwing in a little teasing himself. “You’re lucky you have us,” he jokes. “Otherwise, these guys would eat you alive.”

Nico walks by, overhearing. “We’re protecting you from them,” he says, tilting his head toward the crowd of rowdy teammates. “Not the other way around.”

You laugh, but you know it’s true. These boys are chaos incarnate, but they’re also fiercely protective. And if that means surviving a Halloween party filled with ridiculous costumes, bad jokes, and limbo competitions—well, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The night winds down with Jack flopping onto the couch beside you, half-asleep but still grinning like a kid. “You have fun, Y/N?”

You smile, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Yeah. Thanks for dragging me here.”

Jack gives your shoulder a gentle nudge. “Anytime, little sis.”

Nico, Luke, and Dawson join you shortly after, each collapsing into the nearest seat. The five of you sit there, surrounded by the aftermath of the party—empty cups, candy wrappers, and a whole lot of memories.

And as you glance around at your chaotic, overprotective teammates, you realize there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

#° braindead writes #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fanfic #nico hischier imagines #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes fanfic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes fanfic #dawson mercer x reader #dawson mercer imagines #dawson mercer fanfic #new jersey devils x reader #fic: baby devil

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itsphoenix0724 · 1 year ago

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Tickle My Strings (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Azriel becomes a regular guest at your performances, and when you take a trip back to your house, you find the two of you have a lot more in common than you thought.

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex, creepy interaction with a drunk man

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: Hey everyone!! I hope you've all been well! We hit 100 followers which is really exciting! I can't believe 100 of you like my work enough to follow and I really appreciate it because sometimes I'm still convinced everything I write is awful lol. I wanted to take my time and write something I was really proud of for you guys. This work is heavily inspired by Annapatsu's cover of "Why Don't You Do Right" which I linked so give it a listen for the vibes! This is set about 50 years before Feyre and all the UTM stuff. I hope you enjoy and as always constructive criticism is welcome!

After all these centuries, Azriel still doesn’t know why he allows himself to be dragged to Rita’s every weekend.

He never particularly enjoyed clubbing.

Rhys and Cassian always found some female to entertain them for the night. They teased Az relentlessly because he hardly ever went home with anyone.

He figured most of them were too scared to approach his brooding form in whatever corner he hunkered down in.

However, they always convinced him to attend. And though he hated to admit it, spending time with his family was always pleasant.

The excuse Mor had used to get him to attend this time was the promise of a new live performer. Recently, Rita’s started offering a cabaret night every Friday, and she insisted on dragging the whole Inner Circle every week.

So that was how Azriel found himself crammed into their regular booth, surrounded by the dim lighting and a drink in his hand.

Twinkling notes played on the piano as a bright light shined on you overhead. You had to have had some kind of magic because once you stood up the piano kept playing.

You took a breath in and your voice flooded the space around the bar. It traveled to Azriel’s ears like smoke weaving through the trees. He figured you had to be part siren as you wandered through the crowd, still singing the enchanting song. His eyes tracked you as you plucked a rose from one of the table's centerpieces, singing into it as you stalked through the booths.

You finally stopped at the Inner Circle’s section and your eyes locked with Azriel’s from across the table. He saw the mischief light in your eyes as you hopped up on the table in front of him, and used the rose you were holding to tickle his nose before your voice dropped into a more sensual part of the song.

He could see Cassian and Rhys out of the corner of his eye each sporting shit-eating grins as you sang to him.

Azriel was trying very hard not to stare at your chest, which happened to be directly eye-level with him, before you lifted his chin with one hand and tucked the rose behind his ear.

Hopping down from the table, you swayed your hips with ease, stalked back to the stage like a jungle cat, and sent the Shadowsinger one last wink over your shoulder. Azriel’s whole face was on fire, cheeks as red as one of Cassian’s siphons, as he stared open-mouthed at your form on the stage. Mor finally snapped him out of it, reaching over to snap his jaw shut as his brothers burst into laughter from his other side. Your song ended, and the whole bar shook with applause. He can see you send him a dazzling smile before you disappear behind the curtain.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was your fourth performance and every time you got off the stage you still felt the rush of adrenaline.

You began to notice regulars coming to see you, you can’t deny it did stroke your ego that the High Lord’s table had returned for you every Friday.

Slumping in the small dressing room chair, you finally let your perfect posture drop after holding it for so long on stage.

You sigh in relief as you pull the pins holding your hair in the updo, and wipe away the leftover makeup you applied for the stage. Changing out of the skin-tight dress and into a loose sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder with a pair of fleece-lined leggings you packed your bag to go home.

Ducking out of the Staff door at Rita’s you started making your way towards your small apartment.

You didn’t live on the best side of the City. It wasn’t a slum, but being a singer was hard and you didn’t make the most money from the gigs you’ve managed to pick up.

Rita’s was by far the best-paying job you got yet even if it was on the other side of town. You had plans to eventually move into the Rainbow, Velaris’s infamous artist district, but that was still a long way away and your little apartment would do for now.

Plus you liked all the strays that hung around your building because you wouldn’t get so lonely.

You had successfully made it most of the way back to your apartment before you heard a whistle call behind you. You tried to ignore it, pushing on through the final stretch to your apartment.

“Hey, Beautiful! Where you going huh?” The drunk voice called closer behind you and you felt the chill deep in your bones. Your steps hurried across the cobblestones, but you heard heavier footsteps chasing you. You were about to round the corner when you felt an arm catch the corner of your elbow. “Hey, slow down don’t run away.” The smell of stale liquor wafts your senses as you struggle to stop from gagging.

“Leave me alone,” you snarl, and attempt to yank your arm out of his grip. He holds strong and tries to pull you back into his chest. You struggle for a moment before you feel something snake around your leg and another figure materializes out of the shadows.

“I believe she asked you to leave her alone,” The other voice ran through your ears like black silk. Like death itself.

You can see the imposing figure over the shoulder of the drunk male. Two massive wings tower over the already massive figure. Your savior steps out of the shadows, and that’s when you recognize him.

The High Lord’s friend. The male you teased during your first performance. The Spymaster of the Night Court.

“Hey man,” the drunk male stumbled through a 180, turning around to face the Spymaster. You saw his body tense and he dropped the death grip on your elbow immediately. You saw Azriel smile at the fear on the other man’s face, nodding his head in the other direction. The male scrambled back down the alleyway he came from and you saw Azriel smile at his retreating form before calmly and slowly approaching you.

“Are you alright,” his voice now is nothing like the way he spoke to other male earlier. It was softer now, almost gentle. He used the same tone you used to try to coax the scared stray cats that live behind your apartment. Azriel’s hands were tucked into his pockets, and it looked like he was trying to hide behind the fringe of his hair to make himself look as small as possible.

“I am now, thanks to you.” You offered him a small smile, and he took that as an encouragement to move a little closer to you. “I saw you at the show tonight. Were you following me?” You raise an eyebrow at him, and you can see the light pink tint rise to his golden cheeks.

“I wanted to talk to you after your performance, so I waited for you to leave. I couldn’t work up the courage, but I noticed you heading towards a more dangerous area of the city and I wanted to make sure you got home safe,” the red on his cheeks turned an even brighter fire red, and you could see his hands shifting around in his pockets. “I’m realizing now that that sounds extremely creepy, I’m so sorry, I’ll leave you to your night.” He nods at you and whips around to walk the other way down the street. You see him stretch his glorious wings to take off into the sky.

“Wait!” you call out just in time. Azriel turns his head back around and you hurry to close the distance between the two of you. You stop in front of him and Az shoves his hands back into his jacket pockets. Standing this close he’s so tall you have to crane your neck to look up at him. “While I don’t appreciate being followed, you did save my ass back there. Would you mind walking me the rest of the way home? I can make you a cup of tea as a thank you, and I don’t trust there won’t be more creeps out at this time of night.” Azriel considers for a moment before dipping his head at you, motioning with his pocketed hand for you to keep walking. The two of you walk in comfortable silence the rest of the way back to your apartment building. When you reach the front door, you unlock it and gesture for him to make his way inside.

Your apartment was a bit small. It only had two main sections, a combined living room and kitchen, and your bedroom and bathroom. You noticed Azriel tuck his wings close to his body, and you suppose it wouldn’t be the most comfortable fit for him.

You did really have a lot of stuff crammed into quite a small space.

The kitchen was overfilling with herbs and pots and pans, and the living room was overrun by plants and your piano. You could barely squeeze in the small sofa and overflowing bookshelf due to the amount of space it took up.

Even if the amount of space was questionable you still liked to think you made the space feel like home.

“So, I realized I’ve not properly introduced myself.” Azriel’s voice called again as you ducked and weaved through your kitchen. “I’m Azriel by the way, but you can call me Az if you like” You almost snorted as you dug your kettle out from the drawer underneath the sink and filled it up with water.

“I know who you are.” was your reply, and you saw Azriel’s cheeks flush again. For the fearsome shadow singer of Velaris, he sure is easy to fluster. He looks a little uncomfortable so you do your best to offer him a comforting smile before you tell him your name. He repeats your name back to you in a tone that makes your heart skip a beat. “Anyway,” you clear your throat. “I’ll fish out the rest of the stuff for tea, feel free to make yourself at home.” Az sends you a small smile before moving to wander around in your living room.

“Um,” Az stutters for a second, grabbing your attention from where you were digging for sugar. “I believe someone wants in.” His voice sounds slightly amused, and you walk over to see what he’s looking at. Sure enough, you spot the straggly black cat perched on your fire escape looking as grumpy as he always does.

“Oh, that would be Winston,” You reach around Azriel to yank the old window open and Winston the cat struts inside the apartment like he pays the rent here. He rubs through your leg once before sitting infront of the hearth, glaring up at the two of you.

“Is he yours?” He eyes the cat with a bit of unease, and you shake your head before laughing slightly. Wrestling the window shut you turn around coming chest to chest with the Spymaster. You can feel the slight flush rise to your cheeks as Azriels stumbles to get out of your way, his wings almost knocking over one of your plants in the process. You walk to the kitchen, the stray following hot on your heels as you fill a bowl of milk. The old cat purrs in approval as he jumps up on the counter to enjoy the treat.

“He’s not mine, not really.” You scratch behind the cat’s ears affectionately. “This building has a lot of strays, and I leave food out for them most of the time. Winston’s a bit of a grumpy asshole, but he’s very sweet once he warms up to you.” You shoot Azriel a bashful smile before you resume plundering your kitchen, now in search of some tea leaves. You hear Azriel let out a laugh, and it sounds like music to your ears. Finishing the two mugs of tea, and collecting a small tray of sugar and honey you and Az make your way over to the couch. With a wave of your hand, you light the fireplace. The two of you get comfortable on the couch and you dump a spoonful of sugar in your tea before mixing it in. You watch in horror as Azriel dumps what can only be considered an absurd amount of sugar into his tea. “Dear god, how can you even drink that?” a laugh bubbles out of your chest, and he laughs too stirring the contents of his cup.

“I have a preference for sweet things,” He leans back on the couch truly finally making himself comfortable. You both fall into an easy rhythm, and before you know it you’ve been chatting curled on your couch for hours. You’re on the last mug of tea the pot could hold, and the clock tucked on your side table reads well past one in the morning. “I do have a question for you though,” he raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip. You take a moment to admire him in the candlelight of your apartment. You think he might be the most beautiful male you’ve ever seen, features reminding you of the marble statues you’ve seen carved at the rainbow. You nod your head at him in encouragement to ask his question, resting your mug on your lap to give him your full attention. “What kind of magic is this,” He gestures to the fireplace, and you understand where he’s coming from.

“Well my great great grandmother was a witch.” you see his eyebrows shoot to his hairline and he leans forward to listen more intently. “I don’t have any world-shaking power or anything, but I can do small things like object manipulation. Light the fire, turn out the candles before bed, stir a mug of tea.” You twirl your finger for emphasis and the spoon resting in Azriel’s mug starts to spin before you drop your hand and it rests back against the rim. The wonderstruck look on his face encourages you to explain further. “The piano took me a while longer to learn. I have to keep the back of my mind constantly focused on the notes, so it can be a bit hard to concentrate on singing sometimes. But, it’s worth it because I love interacting with people during my shows. It just makes the performance that much more special for me and the crowd I’m performing for.” You realize you may have been rambling and you send him an embarrassed smile.

“I think that’s wonderful.” Azriel offers you in a whisper and you feel like a flock of wild birds is threatening to break free of their cage in your stomach. His eyes are so intense, the gold almost entirely drowns out the other colors under the candlelight. You almost wish you had been blessed with the ability to paint instead of sing. You could spend hours trying to get the color right and you still don’t think you’d ever be able to capture it accurately. You find yourselves drifting closer to each other and you swear he can hear your heart thudding against your ribs like a metronome. He’s so close you can smell him, night-chilled mist and cedar, you see his eyes dart down to your lips and you tilt your chin up in permission. Your eyes just slip shut when you feel a sudden pressure on your lap. You and Azriel both jump in surprise as you find Winston sitting there with his owlish eyes fixed on you. Dumbfounded, you snap out of your previous trance as he yowls for attention. You rub your tired eyes with the back of one hand before scratching behind his ears with the other. The cat lets out a contented purr and Azriel playfully shakes his head in disbelief.

“I should probably get this cleaned up.” You rise from the couch and you almost swear Az’s hand reaches for you as you get up. Winston, thoroughly disgruntled, moves to the seat next to Azriel.

“I can help you if you like,” He stands up, almost bumping into you as you gather the empty mugs. He attempts to take the tray before you bat his hands away and scoop it up. He is your guest after all.

“I got it don’t worry.” You shoot him a sweet smile, and he nods at you before he takes to wandering around your living room again. You rinse both of the mugs carefully and scrub out the teapot. Looking into your living room you see the cat sprawled in the middle of your couch and Az peering at the titles on your bookshelf. You hum to yourself as you continue to scrub the dishes, you want to do it now before it leaves residue stuck to the bottom of the dishes. You see Azriel move over to your piano and almost absentmindedly play a few notes along to the tune you were humming. You abandon the dishes and silently step through the living room in a way that could rival the Spymaster, as he continues to mess around with the piano. “It seems you’ve been holding out on me.” Azriel jumps away from the piano with an almost guilty look on his face.

“My mother taught me how to play,” He sends you a sad smile as you move to stand next to him. “I wasn’t allowed to see her often, but she would teach me a few things when she could.” His eyes drift down to his scarred hand on the keys, and he flexes and opens his hand with a conflicted expression on his face. You reach down to cover his hand with your own and squeeze, the keys make an ugly sound with the pressure but you’re only distantly aware of it. Azriel stares at your hands for a moment before his eyes drift back to your face, darting to your lips again. Once more, you dip your chin in agreement. Azriel’s other hand gently cups your cheek for a moment as he admires you. The rough texture is a contrast against the smooth skin of your face, and you can feel the drag as he moves his hand down to cup your chin.

He waits for one moment, two, before your eyes flutter shut and he surges forward to press his lips to yours. Your hands shoot to the silky black hair and wind through the strands curling at the back of his neck before tugging lightly. This seems to urge Azriel on and he wraps his free arm around your hip like a vice before dragging you closer. You can taste the tea on his lips, and something else you can only assume is uniquely Az. He’s kissing you like he would rather have you than oxygen, and you find yourself echoing that sentiment.

You don’t think you could stop kissing him even if the moon came crashing down from the night sky.

You nip at his bottom lip, and you’re rewarded with a loan groan from deep in his throat. He urges you back against the piano, and you lean your hands down to brace yourself against the keys. The noise it makes grates against your ears, but you’re too enthralled with Azriel to care as he hoists you on top of the instrument. The crash must’ve scared the cat because you can distantly hear four paws hit the floor before padding into the dark sanctuary of your bedroom. You find your way to Az’s hair again and this time you pull a little harder, one of his hands finds the curve of your ass and squeezes. His tongue sweeps over your bottom lip, and it feels like he’s trying to swallow the whine you couldn't bite back. His mouth moves to brush kisses over your jawline, and when his teeth graze over your pulse point your hips cant up in answer.

It almost feels like a song, your two bodies moving perfectly together, pushing and pulling in perfect harmony. Kicking your piano bench back, Azriel advances again pushing you to lean fully on the piano as he kisses down your body and kneels before you on the floor. He wastes no time, yanking down your pants and underwear in one go. He licks one strong stripe up your center before letting out a moan that echoes through your apartment and dives in again. You start to get dizzy as you writhe against the piano, pulling his hair, drunk with pleasure.

It’s then that you notice a pattern of what he’s doing.

A line up, a line down, a stripe across. A zigzagged line. A line up, a curve, a diagonal line. Another straight line before his tongue swirls around your clit. A straight line across and a curve around. Another straight line, and then the pattern repeats itself.

It takes your hazy mind a second to realize what he’s doing, but when you do you flush from the tips of your ears down to your toes. You rise onto your elbows, eyes shooting open to find Azriel staring right at you with a smug look in his eyes.

That cocky bastard was spelling his fucking name.

That fact alone almost makes you finish on his tongue as you collapse back against the instrument. The smooth surface is a welcome chill against your steadily climbing body temperature. You feel one finger rise to circle your entrance. He’s playing with you like a toy, teasing but not giving you what you want.

“Look at me,” he growls into the air, one finger plunging in and curling to find the sweet spot inside of you. You try, but your eyes fall open and closed as he abuses that position, he even looks amused at your weak attempts to concentrate. “I’m not going to let you finish unless you can look at me while you do it,” His rough voice feels like velvet dragging over your skin. “Come on beautiful I know you can,” your eyelids feel like they weigh one thousand pounds, but you need to come right now or you might explode. It takes all your effort to pry your eyes open and look him straight in the eye. He pays you with another finger inside of you and drops his head back down to your core. Somehow, you keep your eyes on him the whole time, and he lifts his head briefly to mutter a “Good fucking girl” against your thigh.

That’s what sends you over the edge, burning hot ecstasy shoots through your whole body as you hurtle into oblivion. Your legs are shaking when he rises, and his hand rubs a soothing circle into the meat of your hip. He leans down to press gentle kisses into your neck as you recover.

“Can you go another round?” He whispers into your ear, perfectly content to give you pleasure and get nothing in return. He could deal with the painful hard-on in his pants later. You nod your head with enthusiasm and Azriel almost sags in relief. Your hands find the laces on his pants and rip as you leave a trail of lovebites down his neck. You hold him in your hand as you pump it up and down. His head lulls back as you run your thumb over his tip. You guide him into you slowly, and he lets you adjust as he sinks in inch by glorious inch. He waits for a moment when he’s fully seated inside of you, and he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky before he starts to move. He picks up the pace, pulling almost all the way out before slamming the full length of him back in.

You can feel yourself start to build to a second high, and Azriel can feel the way you're clamping around him. He reaches a hand around to rub tight circles against your clit and one of your legs rises to the keys, making another loud crash of notes so that Az can get a better angle. You drag Azriel closer to you and he hits the sweet spot inside of you again that makes you scream causing your nails to run down his back, leaving angry red marks in your wake. You finish for the second time like a blazing symphony, the rushing in your ears so loud your surroundings are almost entirely gone. Azriel follows you soon after that, his whole body tenses, and the moan he releases may very well be imprinted on your brain forever. The two of you sit there- hot, sweaty, and panting- as you stare at each other. Azriel gently helps you down from the piano and you thank him before offering to let him stay the night. He enthusiastically obliges and you fall asleep with his arm thrown around your waist.

You wake the next morning to an empty bed and the smell of bacon coming from your kitchen. Padding out of your bedroom you are greeted with the glorious sight of a shirtless Azriel over your stove, and a pleased-looking Winston perched on the counter next to him.

“What are you making?” You circle your arms around Azriel’s waist and he tenses before relaxing into your touch.

“Just some eggs and bacon. I was going to surprise you in bed, I hope you don’t mind I raided your kitchen” You smile into his back, pressing a kiss to the strong cord of muscle that runs along his shoulder. Before scratching the cat behind his ears.

“Not at all, I see you’ve made friends this morning.” You raise your eyebrow at Az and he shoots you and the cat an amused expression.

“I had to bribe him with a piece of bacon,” this sends you both tumbling into a fit of laughter. After that, you two eat breakfast mostly in comfortable silence, and Azriel gets dressed before leaving with a promise to take you out properly next Saturday.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As Azriel arrived at the training ring the first thing he heard was Cassian’s bark “You’re late!” before he threw himself into training. He had sparred with Cassian and with Rhys, and the Verlaris sun was making him sweat buckets. Excusing himself for a water break he peeled off the soaked shirt, tossing it to the chaise usually occupied by Mor. He distantly heard Cas and Rhys stop fighting but he paid it no mind until he heard Rhysand’s voice call behind him.

“So that’s why you were late to training this morning,” Rhys sounded amused and he turned around to find both of his brothers staring at him with cocky smiles on their faces. It was then that Azriel remembered you had scratched down his back the night before. He had been so lost in pleasure that he hadn’t even felt it, but apparently, it had left a mark.

“Was it the singer? I bet it was the singer.” came Cassian’s unneeded input. Evidently, the way Azriel ducked his head to hide the flush smile and the aversion of their gazes was answer enough for them.

He didn’t care about his brothers’ teasing. He would take being teased for 100 more years if it meant he got to see you again this weekend.

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