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virginreprise · 1 day ago

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✧ ˚ 　 · 　　 . B L U E M O O N ✩ M O T E L

jackson!joel miller x reader ✧˖ * °

✧. ┊ ⁭ddlg dynamics, smut, fluff, edging, mean and soft joel, so basically joel, squirting, daddy kink, unspecified age gap, dirty talk, established relationship, just more of my depravity pretty much

✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　° words: 3.9k

─── ⋆⋅. AO3 .⋅⋆ ──

“C’mon, baby, don’t cry.”

There’s a hand down your face, another dancing along the skin of your stomach and pressing against the flesh—calming the heaving breaths that come with the tears.

Both legs are shaking with the exertion, your lips trembling as you rub your thighs together in a desperate attempt to tip yourself over the edge. To finally give yourself relief from the nauseatingly painful ache that leaks between your legs—seeping into the crevasses of your brain and rendering yourself a dumb, whimpering mess at the faux sympathy and shaking determination of the object of your desecration.

“Joel,” you whisper, throat too sore from where his cock had been inside it previously to open your mouth more than an inch. “D-daddy.”

“Shhhh, babydoll, s’okay.”

Through your blurred eyes, you can see his smirk, the undeniable pride that lingers in the pits of every bruise on his body; every scar that disappears when he has you so desperate.

“It’s not,” you manage to whine. “Daddy, please, it hurts.”

All he does is laugh, kissing uncharacteristically softly along your body—a distinct difference from the harsh treatment of your poor, abused cunt he had been toying with for the past hour. Sweat was glistening along your skin, naked as the day you were born save for the frilly little socks on your feet he had insisted you keep on in case your toes were to become cold. Couldn’t have that.

No, Joel’s little angel baby could not have cold feet. That level of discomfort was far too much for the man to allow. It was perfectly fine to have your clit rubbed raw and swollen, however. That was a pain you needed for your own peace of mind.

“I know it does,” he muttered with little sympathy, thumb running over your nipple—a jolt at the sensation and Joel’s smirk widening at the discovery. “Oh, honey, you’re so sensitive, ain’t ya?”

You peel your eyes open to scowl at him, the condition he’s worked you up to making you so irritable you could hardly care if he was disappointed in your attitude.

“Yes!” you whine, hand clawing at his shirt—the object of your desires hovering above you, still fully clothed whilst you lay naked and sweating. “Daddy, please, I haven’t been bad!”

It was the truth. Joel knew it too. You’d been his perfect girl all these weeks he’d been busy helping control the dangerous amount of infected that had been hoarding the mountains surrounding Jackson. Long days and late nights, a tired and consequently irritable Joel coming home to a sweet and obedient you that didn’t cry, barely even flinched when he snapped at you that time you’d been rambling about your day and he wasn’t in the mood to find it endearing. You’d just quietly apologised and then crawled onto the floor to take your place at his feet—arm wrapping around his leg and face nuzzling into his thigh.

He’d apologised the next morning and kissed you all over, more forgiving than he was now: hovered over you and pulling away every time you felt the coil tighten and threaten to snap.

“I know you have,” he said matter-of-factly. “And daddy’s very proud of you but this isn’t a punishment, baby. I’m rewardin’ you.”

“No you’re not-”

“Hey, now,” he scolded, gripping the hands that fisted at his shirt, wrapping his fingers around your wrists and pushing them against your chest; holding you hostage as he explained himself. “Don’t interrupt me or I ain’t ever lettin’ you finish.”

You pouted, still defiant as ever but decided forgivingly to hear him out, mumbling a half-hearted apology and letting him speak.

“I ain’t tryna make you feel bad, baby, daddy would never wanna do that to you. ‘Specially with how good you’ve been and I know it don’t feel too good right now but the payoff is gonna be somethin’ special, I promise you.” The grip of your wrists began to loosen at your quizzical brow, the contempt replaced with confusion.

“But how-”

“Shh, honey.” He shook his head softly, bringing your hands to his lips and placing kisses along the knuckles. “You have to trust me. You do trust me, don’t ya?”

You nodded enthusiastically, never one to deny the notion that you trusted him implicitly—he had your whole life and, despite his questioning, he would never doubt your devotion.

“Then just let daddy take care of you, okay?” he mumbled against your collarbone, fingers sliding along your skin to nestle between your thighs again, stroking and pinching at your poor cunt once more—clit twitching as he played you with the expert precision that years of experience had gifted to him. Those goddamn hands that had your cheeks heating every time they touched softly along your skin; the most innocent of caresses sending you blazing hot. Skin marred.

Heaving breaths came from your chest when he slipped his fingers inside your wet hole, slick running down your legs and creating a damp spot on the sheets. A stain that you would apologise for and he would clean, promising you that he didn’t care. That this house was as much yours as it was his now.

It had been a quick transition: the way you began to permeate his space. Angel hairbrush on his dresser, panties hanging from the corner of the headboard and the smell of roses lingering in the bathroom steam. He kept you locked in the house that echoed deafeningly before you came traipsing through the front door—the adoration he had for you growing until there was nothing left except the sweltering, burning love that sparked the wood walls and encouraged the smoke that threatened to flame.

You loved him; that much you knew. You loved the way that he took care of you, understood the grievances and the strife, understood the need to let go of yourself, to revert to that childlike personality you had lost years before you should’ve. The stunted childhood—lost to the corners of your nostalgic memory of what it was to be carefree. He let you not care. There was no responsibility, there in his arms. Your head was not full with the thoughts that came so dark in those hours of solitude that kept the blood pumping and your heart screaming.

All you had to do was be loved by him; he made it so easy with the way he spoke to you. The way he loved you.

“That’s my good girl.” The praise was dragged from him by a choked moan, his fingers curling, thumb playing with your clit and lips along your neck—bruising and marking. Time, as a moving thing, slowly began to soften his paranoia, and those blooming purple splotches along your neck and breasts, nipped along your thighs, were something to be proud of. Something that he looked at from the corner of his eye, smiling softly into his drink when Annie from the bakery worried over you—thinking naively that the marks were injuries from patrols you had been banned from long ago. Smouldering from afar as you tried to explain and then cowering when he would see Tommy’s disproving glare and Maria’s distaste grow stronger than usual.

Marks that he created again in the sweat of his bed, with you whining and begging him for release.

“Please, Daddy,” you sniffled, stomach tightening again—so easy to build you up after he’d deprived you so many times already. “Can’t take much more…”

“Oh, my little girl.” There was a certain lilt to his tone as he cooed, an intentional quickening of his fingers that told you, even in your blissed-out state, that this was not the time. That he would pull away as soon as he felt you clamping around him and panting in the wake of your desperation.

“Daddy,” you cried again, tears streaming into your temples, trailing along your scalp and making you shiver with the contrasting cooling of your blazing hot skin. “P-please don't.”

“Don’t what, baby?” You groaned at his question, sobs falling at his laugh. “C’mon, angel, tell Daddy what you want. Don’t leave me wonderin’.”

Your words were coming out in unintelligible babbles as the fire raged deep in your belly, spreading to your hips and forcing them to buck as they burnt—blisters appearing along your skin as you tried to ask him if you could come, tried to tell him how much you needed it, contemplating uttering that fateful word from your lips that guaranteed your safety. Cry in his arms for a bit and then smile as he softened and gave you exactly what you wanted.

“C-come, Daddy,” you managed to whimper, ready to scream when he replied.

“Say again, honey. Didn’t quite catch that.”

You gripped at the sheets, sweating all over, feet too hot with the socks adorning them and cried into the pillows as he pushed you right to the edge of the cliff, holding you gracefully over the lip, keeping you teetering—stomach spinning. You begged him to let you go, to kick your legs out from under you and let you feel the sweet release.

“Need to come, p-p-please.” For a moment, you thought you had him, clit tingling, palms sweating, chest heaving, ready to finally jump, and then as quickly as the hope had come, it was squandered as he pulled his hand away from your legs, and began shushing your cries—sobs fully encapsulating you as he took you in his arms and kissed over your face.

“Breathe, angel, it’s okay,” he murmured into your hair, careful not to press his full weight into you as he pulled your chest to his and kissed the tip of your nose, each cheek, your forehead and then your lips—a choreographed worship that had become the biggest comfort to you in the times where he denied you everything you wanted.

“Daddy…” you said through the sobs. “Why?”

“It’s okay,” he muttered, dodging your question with no grace and all brute force. “It’ll be worth it, babygirl, I promise. Daddy promises, yeah?”

You shook your head defiantly, expressing as best as you could your irritation with him—a mood that he would let slide for now because he knew fully that you didn’t deserve what he was inflicting on you. You had been so good, the bestest of girls for him whilst he battled the long days and harsh conditions—staying as sweet as possible and knowing him well enough that being a brat purely because he wasn’t giving you enough attention, was not one of the ways to make him feel better.

You had been good—his perfect girl. You deserved to come as many times as you comfortably could, and you deserved his love and affection—the softest of touches and the sweetest of nothings.

But, he needed an outlet. He needed somewhere to put all the irritation and the gruelling mental battles—all the way inside you. He needed to punish you for his own peace of mind but still give you the sweet reward he was hoping to pull from you.

“Listen to me,” he said sternly, looking you straight in your bleary eyes as you clung to the broad expanse of his back, adding to the maps of scars along the muscle with the unconscious press of your nails into his skin. “Daddy isn’t being mean, baby. I promise. I need you to trust me on this one and if you don’t, you tell me, okay? You know I ain’t gonna be mad.”

And just like that Joel was there. Joel Miller, who treated everyone he cared about like they were fine china, was shining into the hedonism that darkened the bedroom. It softened your resolve, blessed by the beauty of every complexity that made up the man above you. So you nodded, the harshness of his eyes disappearing, the hint of a smile crossing his wrinkled brow and a promise sealed as he kissed you.

“Okay,” you murmured, pussy still on fire, eyes still flaming with adoration and depraved desire. “I trust you.”

The smile you got was an expression reserved only for these moments, times when he wasn’t being the stubborn, stoic man that you used to be so terrified of. The softness that he kept just for you—a woman that had captured him completely and made him feel revitalised by the innocence of your youth and the genuineness of your affections.

A woman that he would watch squirm under the heat of his beckoning fingers as they slipped inside you once more, a determination in his eyes that smouldered and flickered until you were shuddering against the feeling—hips bucking into his hand, eyes fluttering closed as the tears pressed into your hairline, lingering in the corners of your eyes and spilling when your legs began to shake.

“Daddy,” you whined, unable to think of anything but that goddamn word—the name that had completely changed your life on the barren plains of a cracked America, the solace of his arms and the comfort of the wondrous space he had provided for you. The safety.

“Lean into it, babydoll,” he murmured over the squelch coming from in between your legs. “Relax for me…breathe.”

His words soothed the burns, salve of his love stinging along the blisters and you let out a sharp exhale, chest slowing to a steady in and out. You braced yourself with a hand on his clothed back, whining at the feeling of fabric against his shoulders and trailing your fingers towards the hem of his shirt and tugging.

The emptiness you felt when he pulled his fingers from you to rip his shirt from his body was almost unbearable, mumbling a high-pitched beg as your ears rang and your head went fuzzy. If you were just a little more conscious, you would’ve smiled at the unbelievable way he seemed to read you, his fingers slipping and thrusting as soon as the cotton hit the floor and his skin was against yours.

“Better?” he muttered against your skin, a short laugh falling from his lips when you nodded eagerly and pulled him closer to you—desperate to feel him against you. You always were. You knew you were in trouble when he fucked you with his clothes on, the man knowing how much you adored feeling the heat of him against you, sweat against sweat, bodies completely entangled. You craved it. You breathed it. You devoted your life to the feeling of his body pressed against you and his forehead against yours as he breathed in every expelled depravity.

It was building there again, clamping around his fingers, slick dripping and eyes squeezing shut as he pressed kisses all over your face—wherever his lips could reach. Devotion squeezed inside the domination, an overpowering feeling overcoming you as he began intentionally stroking at that damned spot inside you that he found with the same precision he killed—bloodied hands blooming inside you, scraping against the sponge and pressing his free palm against your stomach.

The added pressure, the thumb against your clit had your brain ascending to euphoria, madness clawing at you as you tugged him closer; whimpering and shaking.

“There we go,” he said proudly. “We found it, huh? I can feel you squeezing me. Gonna cut off my damn circulation.”

“I’m sorry,” you cried pathetically, only recognising the scolding tone of his voice and not the jest that it was meant to be taken as, your hazy mind distracting you from yourself—pulling your body from its resting place and draping you amongst the clouds in heaven. A paradisiacal lunacy overcoming the sensibilities and leaving you in his hold. Trusting completely.

“Don’t be sorry, sweet girl. Just focus on that feeling for me,” he requested, fingers still stroking, feeling still growing and transitioning. Something new. “It feel different?” he asked as if he were reading your thoughts. Half the time you believed that he really could see inside your mind and when you muttered a broken ‘yes,’ he nodded along with you, muttering praises that were laced with a fascination with your body’s workings—the mechanisms that brought you to such a brink.

“Feels like-,” you heaved, moans deepening, fingers digging into his shoulders, marring the skin with sensual flagellation and scarring him with your love and desperation.

“Like you’re gonna pee?” He finished for you and you nodded in confirmation, his fingers working double time now, pressing against your stomach as this foreign feeling brewed inside you—indescribably terrifying and equally enthralling.

“D-don’t…can’t,” you babbled and a reassuring kiss was placed to the tip of your nose.

“It’s okay, baby, just lean into it. Let yourself feel it, you ain’t gonna piss on me, I promise.”

His strokes were so intentional, each swipe built to make you feel something so beautifully incandescent and sinful. His hand was flat against your stomach, his fingers guiding your hips upwards as he reached deep inside you, pulling cries from your mouth you had never heard before, thankful for the thickness of the walls and the security of his comforting words as he took everything from you. Swallowed every moan, every tear, every devotional that echoed along the four walls, seeped into the crevasses of the mattress and stained the sheets with a connection that could not be scrubbed from the fabric.

“Feels- Daddy, it feels-”

“I know, honey, I know.”

You begin to shake, thighs twitching and head spinning. Fingers scissoring inside you, a shit-eating grin on his face that you could only just make out through your tear-streaked vision and a gust of wind passing through your hair, sending it flying into the night as you reach the edge of the sea cliff and gazed at the crashing waves.

It happened quicker than expected, more sudden than even Joel had anticipated when you begin to seize and go hurtling over the edge, gushing around his fingers, feeling the wetness spray all over him—all over the sheets that become soaked with the essence of you.

“Fuck,” Joel whispered, enamoured with the way you arch and sing for him, trying to keep his own arousal at bay as you cry in his arms. “There we go,” he murmurs, coming back to himself as he feels you clinging to him; needing him close to you. “That's my precious girl…exactly what daddy wanted.”

You’re jerking and writhing when he finally pulls away, dragging the slickness up through your folds, your legs closing around his hand when he brushes against your clit.

“N-n-no, daddy,” you beg. “No more.”

He laughs at the juxtaposition, the exhaustion that had replaced your desperation to come, the sensations that had overcome you: leaving you braindead. A state that he knew should not be taken lightly.

“Oh, my baby,” he muttered. “You were perfect.”

Your eyes were slow to open, his praise basking you in a light glow, illuminating the depths of your soul and replacing the broken pieces that he had just left strewn across the bed.

“What…” you breathed out, legs squeezing together and a light moan gracing the room at the oversensitivity. “What did I just do?”

“You just squirted, honey. Been wantin’ to try that with ya for a while now.” He said it so casually, like he hadn’t just given you an orgasm that rivalled every other release you’d had in your life—coerced by an hour of edging and begging; your body exploding into a diabolical rapture that replayed in your mind as he stroked your hair from your face. “Daddy’s so proud of you, baby.”

You just whined in response, tugging him as close as possible, letting him rest on his side of the bed and pull you on top of him. You clung to him like he was your life source, breaths still steadying, cunt still tingling and three mumbled words on your lips that had been uttered so many times now you could hardly even remember your life before you adored him so ardently.

“Love you, Daddy.” You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent, happy with his hands all over you and his chest against yours. “Missed you so much.”

He knew what you were referring to, he knew that you had needed his undivided attention—edged or not—for some time now. He hadn’t been as good to you as he’d wanted to be, quick fucks slowly replacing the languid strokes by the fireplace and the whispered words of devotion against the wall; it had been tough on the both of you. All those hours spent in the snow; ugly, malnourished, infected lunging for him when he took a wrong step, fighting with all his might to survive. For you and the prospects that clouded your union.

“I know, babygirl, I missed you too,” he confessed, pressing his cheek into the side of your head, lips pressing feather-light into your hair and his arms tight around your waist. He would not let you go. Could not bear it if you were to slip from his hold. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere now. You know I’ve got the next few weeks off. Gonna spend all of it with my girl. Gonna keep you fucked and fed, how bout that.”

You giggled and shook your head, squeezing him tight and pulling your face from your hiding place to look him in the eyes.

“Sounds perfect, Daddy.”

He looked up at you, eyes scanning your face with a smile that lightened his old features, your hands cupping his cheeks and smoothing along the wrinkles around his eyes. And he let you touch him, let you admire his pretty eyes and strong jaw. All man and not mild. Strong and sturdy. Looking to protect you from the horrors that he daredn’t speak of, from the judgements of others until he’d convinced you that keeping you locked away was normal. That your contributions to the community was keeping him happy.

A beat, silence permeating the tranquility and then you: managing to fluster the Adonis that lay underneath you.

“You’re so handsome, Daddy,” you muttered. “The most handsome daddy ever.”

Joel stared with poorly contained adoration, a smile playing at his lips, a glint in his eyes as he mirrored your movements and took your face in his hands. Thumbs stroked your cheekbones, playing at the softness of your lips and then trailing down the bridge of your nose.

“And you’re the prettiest little babydoll I’ve ever seen,” he said softly. “My bestest girl.”

Your cheeks grew hot, his praise and compliments that came far too often, always leaving you a grinning, sweating mess and you hid yourself in his chest, feeling the vibrations of his laugh as you rested your ear against his heartbeat and brought your thumb to your lips.

You’d stay there forever if you could, naked, not afraid of the consequences of your vulnerability. Just completely safe in his arms, loved by a man who was so full of care he was bursting at the seams with a desire to protect someone. To protect you. And with a mumbled “I love you,” on his lips, a squeeze of your waist as he rolled onto his side, taking you with him, you understand what it felt like to be loved completely. To have every semblance of your being desired and wanted.

If he ever left, you would have no idea how to reconcile the grief—how to cope with the loss of someone who gave you everything.

So, you lay there and didn’t think about the next time he’d be on patrol. You lay there, in his arms, not thinking of the possibilities. He promised he would always come back to you.

He would always come back.

i have no idea what this is. i'm so tired i can't even be bothered to write this note. i wrote this in the past few hours and its now five in the fucking morning and i can barely see. please appreciate my effort.

#virginreprise™#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us 2 #joel tlou

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written-and-readen · 2 days ago

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Would You Fall in Love With Me Again

Sunday x reader

Summary: Sunday returns home after many years, changed but still your husband

a/n: Based on Would You Fall in Love With Me Again from Epic the Musical. It’s such a beautiful song and I highly recommend listening to it (although it’s honestly even better with the context of the whole musical because it’s the last song).

The large double doors of your bedroom loom before Sunday. He knows you are waiting just past them, but his hand hesitates to grab the handle and walk through them. It has been several years since he’s been on Penacony. After his involvement with the Order, he couldn’t bear to face you. His decision to journey with the Astral Express to find himself and rediscover the dream he had to make people happy followed a letter left on the bed he had once shared with you. It was a letter that promised he would return someday.

Despite all the time that has passed Sunday still wears his wedding ring on the hand currently outstretched towards the door. Would you still be waiting for him? He wouldn’t blame you if you moved on. Would you still love him? The idea that you might not recognize him scares him stiff. You’ve remained at the forefront of his mind while he was gone, but he could have become a stranger to you in that time as well.

Still, there’s only one way to find out, and he made a promise after all, so Sunday pulls the door open and enters. You’re standing by the tall windows, looking out over the Golden Hour. It’s a view he used to enjoy sharing with you late at night. The views from the Express’ windows could never compare, part of that being a significant lack of you there.

Your eyes are drawn by the intrusion and meet Sunday’s as he steps in. He takes you in as the light from the Dreamscape surrounds your form with a soft glow. It’s almost ethereal, and Sunday suddenly feels his heart lurching in his chest like it wants to jump out and fly to that whom it belongs to.

“Sunday?” You walk slowly towards him. He catches your eyes studying him. Once you stand before him, your hands move to lightly brush the hair out of his face as you take him in just like you used to do every morning. “Are you real? This isn’t a dream?”

“It’s me.”

“You look different.” Sunday leans into your touch as your hand grazes his cheek. “There’s a light in your eyes that wasn’t there before.” He lets out a shaky breath.

“I’m not the same man you once knew. I’ve changed a lot since I left, but-” Only when he looks directly into your eyes do you notice the tears beginning to form, “Would you fall in love with me again? Even though I’m different?”

Your hands take his, running your thumb over the golden ring he wears. Glancing down, his eyes widen as he sees an identical ring still adorning your finger.

“Do you remember when you gave it to me?” You say upon noticing the recognition in his eyes.

“It was in this room,” Sunday recalls. “We were in bed, and you said you wanted to marry me. I had bought the ring weeks ago but only then did I feel brave enough to give it to you. The way your eyes lit up outshone even the Golden Hour.” Your hand tilts his face up to meet yours again, a smile gracing your features.

“Only my husband would remember that,” You choke up as tears fill your eyes as well. “I never fell out of love with you, Sunday. I’m glad you’re home. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Sunday lets the tears freely stream down his face as he pulls you into his arms. Your hands on his back bring him just as close, if not closer, as his previous fear is released with his sobs. After spending years in the cold reaches of space, he revels in your warmth. It feels right. It feels like home.

“I can’t wait to hear about everything you’ve been up to.” Your hands reach up to brush the residue of tears from his cheeks. And so, Sunday sits side by side with you on the edge of the bed as he tells you all of his adventures throughout the galaxy.

#written by ray #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr sunday #sunday x reader

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cognitiveoverload · 23 hours ago

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Bambi (Spencer Reid x reader)

summary: You joined the BAU to prepare for an upcoming role, but your time with the team gives you a new career path and a new lover.

note: It's short, but that's how far I wanted to take this now. Takes place before 11x01.

“Special Agent Bambi stole my coffee 😩”

This is a message meant for your best friend, but Derek sadly leans over your shoulder just in time to catch it. You only notice when you hear his laughter in your ear, and soon you see him sitting on the edge of the desk in front of you. “I saw Spencer with a cup of coffee that had your name on it. Oh, if only someone told him you called him Bambi,” he says with a teasing grin.

Mortified, you open your mouth to protest, or rather to beg him to keep this to himself, but no word leaves your throat. Maybe a deal could work, maybe you could offer something he wants, and considering he mentioned his girlfriend loves your work, that could be the key to your secret’s safety. So, with a sweet smile, you put your phone on the desk and fold your arms as you look at him.

Derek instinctively mirrors your movement, watching you with a slightly raised eyebrow. “I’ll take you and Savannah to a fancy restaurant on an evening that’s good for the both of you, and she can join me on the first days of shooting when we finally get there,” you offer.

“All of this to stop me from telling the kid?” When you nod, he lets out a thoughtful hum. “Damn it, you know that’s an offer I can’t turn down. I’ll keep your secret.”

“What secret?”

You see as the agent in front of you whistles quietly, then walks past you as if there was nothing to see. The question came from Penelope, who stands right next to the very man you’ve exchanged a few words about. At first, you open your mouth to respond, but then you realize there’s no way you could improvise without being busted by them. Telling part of the truth could be useful, though.

So, without much hesitation, you put an award-winning smile on your face and point in the direction where Derek went. “I invited Savannah to the set of the movie,” you explain. You quickly realize there has to be a continuation for this sentence, otherwise you would have to start explaining yourself. “I was thinking about a girls’ weekend if you’re in too.”

Penelope claps her hands in excitement as she looks at Spencer. “I might not even return to you,” she jokes with a wide smile. “It’s so exciting, of course I’m in!”

When she hugs you, you immediately become enveloped in that warm aura of hers, the one everyone on the team mentioned after you arrived. You’ve only been with the team for three weeks in preparation for a new role, but surprisingly, they all welcomed you kindly despite being short of a few people, and even among them, Penelope was the one who grew the closest to you in a matter of days.

While each and every one of them became important to you for a different reason, it’s Spencer you can’t quite place anywhere. He’s so different from the guys you are used to, and you can’t decide if this oddity is the reason why you don’t know what to think about him. A part of you thinks he’s an adorable dork, which brings out your protective side, while another believes he’s charming and handsome, the kind of guy you want to do certain things with behind closed doors.

You’re like a Victorian man when he sees a woman’s ankle, you can’t help yourself when he’s around. It’s hard to recall the last time you were so desperate for someone’s attention, maybe it was back in high school, but you’re not sure.

Behind her, Spencer takes a sip of coffee from the paper cup, and your eyes meet as you let go of Penelope and take a step back. He doesn’t say anything, and the silence is deafening, but you wait, secretly hoping he would change his mind and tell you something, even if it’s nothing more than some random fact about movies. But he remains silent, and eventually he moves to sit behind his desk without sparing you a second look.

Penelope also leaves, and since you don’t have paperwork to do like the others, you pull out the book that’s part of your curriculum and continue reading it, highlighting the pages where you find interesting details with a narrow post-it. It was Spencer and Dave who wrote you a list of books you could learn a lot from, and they both promised to talk with you about them once you finished reading them.

You have no idea how much time passed exactly, but your quiet reading session is interrupted by the announcement that there’s a new case and briefing starts now in the conference room. You pick up your phone and head after the rest of the team, sitting in the back as usual to be out of the way, but to your surprise, Spencer decides to sit next to you this time. When you turn to him with a surprised look, he flashes a smile at you, then takes another sip of the coffee cup with your name visible to you.

As most cases they work on, these were also gruesome murders, and the more details you hear, the harder you grip your thighs to bear it. But then you feel a hand cover yours, slowly but confidently lacing your fingers. You know whose hand it is, yet you don’t dare to look his way, you don’t feel like taking his attention away from the case that’s being presented. He joins the conversation every now and then, but whenever there’s a break, you can feel his eyes on you.

The team’s dismissed, and you’re heading to the plane that takes off half an hour later. The plane where Spencer once again opts to sit next to you, although this time he finally talks to you. “It gets better with time,” he notes quietly, flashing a small smile at you. You return it, but before you can say anything, he goes on. “I know that you were asking about joining the academy to become one of us.”

The surprised look you give him is followed by a groan. “Penelope?” you wonder, and he nods in response. “It’s just… I love acting, don’t get me wrong, but this would actually mean something, you know?”

“But are you ready to work on such cases every day?”

You lean your head back as you consider what to say to that. The idea of joining the FBI came to you a week ago, after you entered the rented apartment you stayed in following an emotionally tough case. At first, you briefly considered quitting this little crash-course before it could leave a permanent scar on you, but then you realized that at the end of the day, it was all about saving lives. And this made you wonder if there was anything acting helped you achieve aside from promoting good causes.

Preaching about the importance of fighting for the environment, or children’s rights didn’t mean people would actually do something too. But a job at the FBI? That would have results. You could put bad guys behind bars, even if it wouldn’t be so cheerful all the time. Considering you were in your late twenties, maybe you still had enough time to make such a big career change.

With a sigh, you turn your head to look at him. “You said it yourself, it gets better with time,” you reply, but a doubtful look crosses his face. “Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I want to see if I would be good enough,” you tell him.

Spencer turns in his seat, watching you with a barely visible smile at first. “You’ll need an intensive course,” he points out as he reaches out, once again lacing your fingers. “How about this? We meet outside of work and go through some old cases. I’ll teach you everything you need to know about profiling.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure you need your free time, I wouldn’t want you to–” But he doesn’t let you finish, instead he ignores the curious eyes watching the two of you and leans in to give you a soft kiss. “Oh,” you say when he pulls back.

“You don’t even notice how many times you stare at me, do you?” he asks with a teasing smile, his hand moving to your cheek. “And please, don’t call me Bambi behind my back.”

With wide eyes, you stand up and turn around to find a certain member of the team that’s gonna be kicked in the ass for sure. “Derek, god dammit!” you yell, but before you could go there to confront him, Spencer takes your hand and gently pulls you back into the seat. You flash an apologetic smile at him, then rest your head on his shoulder as you think about how things would be for the two of you now.

Maybe with him on your side, it will be easier to handle these cases.

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 3 days ago

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Good Luck, Babe! (8)- You'd Have To Stop The World

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Inspired by the song 'Good Luck, Babe!' by Chappell Roan

Summary: Returning to Westview after twelve years away causes you to look back on your secret love affair with Wanda, to remember the intimate moments you shared together before her refusal to accept her true self drove the two of you apart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart alone.

What happens when you reunite with the woman you've been trying so hard to forget, forced to watch her suffer in an unhappy marriage that was slowly drowning her, still too scared to confront her true feelings?

Chapter 8- 8.6k Words

Good Luck, Babe! Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 7

A/N: Hey… So it’s been a while, huh? I’m sorry! Life has been super hectic these last few months and my mental health has been all over the place (which I have finally got a therapist to help me with!) So between two jobs, being in full time education and being depressed, it’s been pretty hard to consistently write or stay motivated but I’m sorta back? Only very briefly as it’s the holidays and my exams once again start again at the end of January and don’t finish pretty much till June. My plan for this fic is that this is the official final chapter of the story but I’m planning a sort of epilogue/extra chapter that I’ll add more info about in the end notes. Once again, I’m so sorry for leaving you all on a cliff-hanger (that was pretty evil of me)

But hopefully this makes it up to you <3 I love you all!

—

An empty feeling consumed your chest with every heavy step you took to the avenue your house was on, your hand gripping the dog lead harder than necessary as your eyes inevitably spotted the familiar red car that had pulled up into the drive next to yours, a gnawing feeling picking away at your mind. It had been just over a couple agonising weeks since the…incident with Wanda, a little while since you felt your heart crack once more, crumbling into hundreds of pieces that you felt would never be able to be put back together again, the constant replaying of the event in your mind further ensuring you wouldn’t heal from the memory. The agony that expressed itself in her choked sobs and broken, tearful gaze haunted you, it wedged an unfathomable ache in your soul that seemed unescapable, everything seeming to remind you of the woman you so desperately needed to remove from your thoughts.

You sighed in an irritated manner as you sensed where your thoughts were heading as you approached yours, and consequently, Wanda’s house, your head shaking subtly to try and rid you of the sight of her green gazing into yours, every swirl of her enticing green losing that glimmer of happiness you adored so much as you murmured the words ‘I can’t’. It was draining, constantly being reminded of how your love was never meant to be, how things would never end up like the stories you’d dream of, willing the characters who were clearly destined to be together to push past that final barrier that was blocking their happiness, you just wanted it to stop. You needed it to stop.

Before you could drift further down that detrimental path, the sound of two energetic boys calling your name gripped your attention, a smile genuinely gracing your lips at their emphatic tones, their contagious smiles and laughter meeting your ears as you passed the bottom of their drive. You avoided looking further up the path as they approached you, not wanting to feel another wave of conflict course through you, your gaze staying focussed on the way Billy instantly ran towards Lucky, deciding he wanted to say hi to the bundle of fluff he loved so much.

“Y/n!” Tommy called excitedly, his tone hopeful as he continued, his little form standing in front of you, looking up at you with a cheerful and innocent smile, his enthusiasm to speak to you causing the corner of your lips to tug that little bit wider. “Can we please come over to play today?” He pleaded, eager to come over and show you how he had improved his kickups, now able to do fifteen in a row, as it had been a while since you allowed them over, not wanting to endure the unnecessary contact with Wanda.

At his hopeful and bright tone, you felt your heart melt at his and his brother’s actions, Billy fussing over Lucky who sat by him, the dog growing extremely fond of the brown haired boy as he enjoyed his company when they’d come over. It was natural for the two of them to occupy each other, Billy’s hand running through golden fur as he would read a comic whilst Tommy and yourself caused chaos, a small tug pulling on the strings of your heart as you didn’t want to deny the twins of the fun they had in your garden, but a harsher, more prominent tug reminded you of their mother, feeling her intense green gaze at you.

To say things were tense between you would be an understatement, Wanda’s entire being longing for you, to talk to you and try and clear things up, express the emotions she had spent years burying as she couldn’t physically hold it in any longer, but it was clear you didn’t want to even try, deciding the only way you were going to be able to move on was by leaving the other woman behind. You needed to move on, to forget the way she sparked joy into your life and in doing so, you reluctantly ignored her, deciding that it would somehow be easier for you to simply avoid her than face her and your thoughts once more.

Without even looking up, you could tell she had that pleading glint in her eyes, hoping you’d spare her even a mere glance as you crouched to the boy’s level, letting your hand ruffle Tommy’s hair in that teasing and playful manner that always made him giggle, an apologetic smile gracing your features.

“I’m sorry but I’ve got more boring adult stuff to do tonight,” you murmur softly, your face signalling your sorrow for disappointing them as you witness the excitement slowly crumble away from the twins, Tommy’s shoulders slumping a little.

“But you had that last week,” he argued, your gaze drifting to Billy who was smiling down at Lucky, the dog tilting its head back to stare up at the boy with his tongue sticking out, the golden retriever’s usual goofy manner making him laugh.

“I know, I’m sorry,” your tone comforting as you fix his hair briefly after messing it up. “Blame my boss for giving me homework,” you tease, the boy’s eyes almost widening in fear at the idea of still being given homework in adulthood, amusing you briefly before you continue, wanting to cheer them both up a little. “I promise you can come over soon, I miss beating you at football,” you playfully murmur, pushing his shoulder teasingly as a glint of determination appears in Tommy’s eyes, a small laugh escaping Billy as he knew you always somehow lost the football matches, potentially due to letting the smaller boys win but not telling them that. “Now go on to your parents, I’ve got to go and be an adult now,” you joked, as you stood back up, making a show of getting up, pretending as though you were that old it hurt your knees and back, further amusing them and bringing smiles back onto their faces.

“Bye Lucky,” Billy said with more enthusiasm before muttering a short goodbye to you, making you shake your head playfully as it was clear how much more he loved the dog than you, something you could understand as Lucky was such a good companion.

Your eyes followed the way Tommy ran after his brother after saying bye to you, something you regretted almost instantly as you saw Wanda greet them, her hand cradling each of their heads in a motherly manner before letting them run off inside, her head turning to look at you, as though she felt your eyes on her.

The brief eye contact made you freeze momentarily, conflicted at how to feel as the world around you seemed to fade away, the only things you were able to focus on being the way your heart started to pound in your chest and her intense green seeming to grip your attention. Staring into her gaze that held a glint of pain but also hope made you wonder whether Wanda felt this immense guilt you did when she avoided you when you first came back, your heart feeling as though it was being split into two. Despite everything, you wanted to comfort her, no matter what could happen between you both you always longed to protect and care for her and it always hurt, especially as you knew you were the reason she was hurting now, the situation between you two forever resembling two stars that never wanted to align. On the other hand, you knew you didn’t have it in you to soothe her pain, deciding to try and savour the last remnants of your heart, finding it would somehow be easier to push her away than deal with the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to overpower you.

“Y/n please can we-” Wanda tried, desperation clearly lacing her tone as she took a pleading step forwards, wanting to, needing to talk to you, to try and clear the air and help navigate the feelings that were slowly suffocating her, trapping her in a place of despair.

Before she could finish her sentence, you sighed, shoulders slumping visibly for her to see, her brows drawing together as a pained expression took over her face as you stayed silent, merely offering her one last apologetic and equally broken look before turning away, walking towards your house and leaving her alone once more, a prominent ache forming in her chest.

“Please,” she whispered more to herself as you hesitated by your door, lowering your head whilst you paused before twisting your key in the lock, shutting yourself away from the other woman as her boys called for her, a despondent feeling consuming her whilst she had to force a smile to her lips, trying to put the mask back on for her family.

***

The sound of distant chatter met Wanda’s ears as she manoeuvred around the kitchen, starting to prepare dinner for everyone whilst her mind wandered elsewhere, inevitably drifting to thoughts involving you.

It was maddening to the other woman, the way you managed to consume her thoughts so regularly, how it seemed the world would have to stop for the longing in her heart for you to diminish, every fibre in her being longing for you, your presence, your laughter, simply you. You were the only thing that made her feel as though she was alive, that there was a purpose as to why her heart was beating in her chest, fluttering and melting at your actions. She hated how so many years had to pass for her to realise that she should never have tried to deny her feelings for you, to stop the love that wanted to bloom in her chest as she would gaze at you in your truck, a genuine look of happiness etched onto her features as she got lost in the moment, unbothered by the rest of the world and what she thought she had to be. She just wanted to be herself and in your presence was the only place she ever felt like she was safe enough. Even when you sat with her on your sofa that devastating night she felt safe, she felt more passion and affection in those sparing moments than over the years without you, an emptiness that brewed inside her craving your care to reminded her of how colourful life could be, like it was when you were both young, naïve and free adults with only one thought in your minds, each other.

It was apparent things would never change as you still consumed each other's thoughts, the love being replaced by haunting memories however, Wanda’s lips trembling slightly as she tried to get a grip on the emotions threatening to drown her, to force her into a spiral she didn’t want to experience. The years of pretending, lying to and berating herself fuelled her pain as she desperately tried to not let those thoughts control her once again, unable to survive in that mindset any longer, just wanting to accept that she was still normal, even if her heart wanted someone different, someone that she was told was wrong and corrupt. She wasn’t a freak, she wasn’t, she was just a victim of love was what Wanda repeated in her head, only reminding her of more confusing thoughts swarming around her head.

She loved you, she could finally say it to herself, but it was clear it wouldn’t matter as you avoided her, reluctant to cause any more pain as your feelings seemed to pass by each other at the wrong time, never quite clicking. It caused a different kind of hollow emptiness to settle in her chest, her mind dragging her down a painful trail of thoughts as she replayed that night in her mind, clinging onto anything that could offer some sort of relief to the agonising pain digging into her heart.

Cruelly, her thoughts remember the feeling of your delicate touch burning into her skin as you cupped her cheek, offering some sort of comfort to her after rejection and heartache flooded through her, gripping her heart in a manner that stripped her breath away, scared at the overwhelming feeling of pain. She could almost feel the lump that had formed in her throat, the way her lips trembled, tears spilling from her eyes as she sank into your body, desperately trying to relish in your comfort but succumbing to the agony that ripped through her chest, her soul.

The memory made her want to break down into tears once again, to let the avalanche of anxiety crash through her, knocking her over every time she managed to try and get back up but a small glimmer of hope floated through her mind, offering her a life line to cling onto.

She vividly remembers the way both of you leaned in, that intoxicating look in your eyes as you let your gaze drift to her lips, a longing look evident in them which only made it even more confusing for Wanda. She could see it in you, she was sure of it, you still loved her even after anything, it was something that tormented you forever as you said, confessing to her that you ‘had always been’ in love with her. You wanted it to work, even now. Why couldn’t things just work out? She was ready to tell you everything, to accept who she was but it wouldn’t matter, even if it was clear both of you felt the same way, your souls drawn together, it never seemed right.

Why couldn’t she just accept herself sooner? Why didn’t she realise loving you was worth any risk? Why was everything so confusing? She just wants to be able to think straight.

“Mom?” Tommy called suddenly, snapping Wanda out of her thoughts as she lifted her hand to wipe the stray tear that had spilt down her cheek, using all her courage to force a smile onto her face for the boys to see as they trudged into the kitchen, bored expressions on their faces. “Can you come and play with us please? Dad said he had a work call to take again,” he grumbles as both Billy and Tommy slump onto the stools by the kitchen island, their heads in their hands as they stare at the back of their mother, oblivious to the conflict swarming around her head.

At his words, anger seeped into Wanda’s mind as she let out a sigh, not wanting even more emotions to rage in her head at her husband's incompetence and inability to actually be a father for once, more memories from that night and the past few days filling her mind. After that argument that left her crying outside, Wanda had finally reached her tipping point, her heart unable to take anymore misery from the man, to waste any more years of her life pretending that she loved him, that she even cared for him. There was nothing left to savour between them and the last few days had only cemented the idea in her head to leave, to try and find someone else that would love her or show her some sort of affection, someone like you- No, not you, you were making that clear.

“I’m sorry but I’m a little busy Dorogoy, I’m trying to make Paprikash for dinner,” Wanda softly replies, making sure neither of the boys could sense the irritation that had brewed in her, their faces brightening at the mention of one of their favourite dishes though. Turning around to face them, she saw the disappointment briefly in their eyes from the usual dismissal from Vision, her heart clenching a little as they desperately wanted to play with someone, some joy filling them at the idea of food though, an idea entering Wanda’s mind. “Do you two want to help me make it?” She asked them, a gentle and motherly smile gracing her lips as they nodded eagerly, excited to try something new as they jumped off the seats to stand by her side, love blooming in her chest. Despite her negative feelings towards their father, the one thing she’d forever be grateful to him about was the two boys they brought into the world, her hands going to Billy’s shoulders as she instructed him on what to do, Tommy waiting to be told his job, both of them bickering on who was sous chef number one and who was sous chef number two.

Their playful chatter quickly filled the room, drowning Wanda’s incessant thoughts out of her mind as she supervised and made most of the dinner, letting the boys do simple tasks such as washing the vegetables and eventually trusting them to chop them, keeping her eyes on Tommy specifically though as he easily got distracted, the older woman not wanting him to accidentally hurt himself. It was almost as though all the emotions that were weighing her down were about to be forgotten, her boy’s making things more bearable, reminding her to enjoy the moment with them whilst a genuine smile stretched across her lips as the twins glanced up at her with a sheepish look, having knocked something off the countertop. Flour sprinkled across the floor at their mistake, simply earning a raised eyebrow from Wanda, their mother not even needing words to tell the twins it was their responsibility to clean the mess up when the sound of Vision’s laughter started echoing through to the kitchen, bringing a frown to Wanda’s face as well as the twins, the two of them looking up at her expectantly.

“Keep your eyes on the timer for me please,” she murmurs to the boys who had started to grab something to clean the floor with, their faces pulling into a brief confused look, “Shout me when there’s two minutes left, I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Once the two of them nodded, she made her way into the living room to find their father, a sudden blinding rage consuming at the sight of him laid back in the armchair chatting on his phone, his smile wide as he chuckled to the person on the other end of the call, seemingly unaware of how selfish his actions were.

“God Tony, you should have seen the way Banner’s face dropped when I told him he inputted the numbers wrong,” Vision huffed out, amused at what had happened at work, his blue eyes flickering over at the movement in the corner of his eyes, drifting up Wanda’s body before meeting her green and the unimpressed and irritated look in them, a sigh escaping him which only amplified the annoyance building in her. “I’ll call you back Tony,” he muttered, having enough decency to end his conversation after meeting the look in his wife’s eyes.

“How was your work call?” Wanda coldly asked, her arms crossing over her chest as her head tilted slightly, looking down on the man who simply moved his hand to his temple, contemplating his answers as he let out a huff.

“Wanda, I’ve had a long week let’s not-” He tries, as he always does, but Wanda refuses to accept his blatant excuses, cutting him off.

“You have a ‘long week’ every week,” she dismisses, unbothered if she came across as careless or inconsiderate as she had finally had enough of his bullshit, needing to call him out and let it sit with him. “The boys were so excited to actually spend some time with you earlier, to play with their father but let me guess, talking to Tony and others was more important to you?” She states rather bluntly, his fingers moving to the bridge of his nose as he reluctantly listens to her. “Do you have any idea how much it upsets them?” Wanda asks, this time with a softer tone, trying to express the sadness it causes in their children at his constant false promises.

“Does it upset them? Or are they just upset that they haven’t gone over to Y/n’s house instead?” He questions, taking Wanda aback at the mention of you, all the thoughts from earlier flooding through her mind along with a new trail of thoughts at the annoyance in his tone. “Why can’t they just go over to her house? It’s better for everyone, they can have fun with her and I can have some quiet for once,” he mutters, earning a scoff from Wanda, her head shaking as she bites on her tongue, not wanting to start a screaming match with him tonight.

How did it ever come to this?

Before she can say a snarky remark or a bitter comment, they both hear Billy come into the living room to find Wanda, a confused and worried look appearing in his eyes making Wanda’s heart clench, her body instantly moving to comfort the boy, giving him a reassuring look before ushering him back into the kitchen, turning back to face her husband one last time, letting her thoughts clear before saying one last thing to him.

“Don’t be surprised at what happens next,” is all she says, defeated as she stares at him, trying to remember how part of her did love him at one point, only briefly as her heart only ever truly belonged to you before she turns away from him, making her way towards where her boys were, fingers finding her phone in her pocket, needing to search through her contacts for an old friend, ready to make her decision final.

It was over between them.

***

Grabbing the essentials for Lucky, you tossed the bag full of the necessities into the back of your truck, chuckling under your breath at the sight of the bundle of fluff sitting next to your feet, eager to come with you on your small journey as his tail wagged, tongue comically hanging out of his mouth.

The sun made his golden fur appear all the more angelic and adorable as you whistled for him to jump into the front seat of the vehicle, the window rolled down all the way as you quickly ran back up to check the front door was securely locked, ready to drive over to the lake to clear your mind from the thoughts that had been gnawing away at you over the last few days specifically.

You were just about to climb into the driver’s seat when you heard your name called by a familiar yet unfamiliar voice, a baffled look appearing on your face as you turned around to face the female voice, recognition appearing on your face along with confusion.

“Jen?” You eventually managed out as you stood by your car in a puzzled manner, a sense of happiness filling you at seeing an old friend from school, remembering all the crazy and entertaining science lessons the two of you shared next to each other, briefly remembering the way you nearly set part of the science lab on fire accidentally. It was still her fault in your opinion, but you weren't going to bring that up now after so many years.

“Y/n? Oh my god it really is you,” Jennifer Walter chuckled out as she approached you, walking over from Wanda’s house which you immediately noticed, not mentioning it though as you decided it wasn’t your business, despite how much it intrigued you.

“Yeah, wow it’s been a long time,” you sigh out, a little unsure of what to say as it was so surprising to see her, “What are you doing here? Wait, no, sorry, how are you first?” Your politeness earnt a smile in response as you leaned against your truck to talk to her casually, Lucky moving over to the driver’s seat and poking his head out near yours, further amusing you both.

“Good, I’ve just finished talking to Wanda about a…work thing,” she started, piquing your interest as you acted as though the words didn’t affect you that much, “So I’m currently back on business.” You nodded along to her words, listening attentively, “I need to go and check in to the hotel now though so is there any chance we could meet up another time and catch up?” Her tone was a little flustered as she looked at her watch, realising the time making you chuckle as she always seemed to be so busy, a look of concentration etched onto her face as she worked out her timings for her plans, running a little behind.

“Yeah, that’d be lovely, you still have my number right? Just message me and we’ll sort something out,” you reply, watching as she smiles gratefully at you, taking a step back as she needed to be leaving, having a work call to take at her hotel.

“Perfect! It was really nice to see you again,” She rushes out before ushering a quick goodbye at the sight of her taxi pulling up, your hand raising to wave her goodbye as you turn to get into your truck, now ready to leave to venture to the lake. Before you left though, you couldn’t help but let your gaze wander over to the Maximoff house, trying to wrack your brain as to what career Jennifer would likely have gone into and figure out what they were doing, a strange, undecipherable feeling wrapping around your heart tightly. Shaking your head slightly, you tried to rid the thoughts from your mind, deciding you needed to stop thinking about her to move on, your mind focussing on reversing out of the drive and the adorable look on Lucky’s face.

***

The gentle sound of paws on the wooden surface of the dock caught your attention as you stared ahead at the vast stretch of water, the way the soft blue from the sky reflected delicately in each ripple of the lake, the gentle hues of green from surrounding bushes also adding to the picturesque setting you relaxed in, Lucky joining your side. Water dripped from his darkened fur, the golden tufts on his chin soaking wet as he held the tennis ball in his mouth next to you, tail wagging with enthusiasm as he impatiently waited for you to throw it again, his calm but also joyful demeanour always comforting to you.

With a smile on your face, you pushed yourself up onto your feet to throw the ball properly for the dog, taking the soaking ball and using all your strength to toss it as far into the lake as you could, watching as he leapt off the dock and splashed into the water, paddling over to chase the desired item.

Flopping back down onto the wood, you let your eyes flutter shut, trying to listen to the peaceful atmosphere and the world of nature around you, birds occasionally chirping, the splashing from Lucky, and the wind gently rustling the bushes around you to distract your thoughts but it was inevitable that enticing green would consume your mind.

Everything simply hurt. You felt broken once again, your heart felt as though it was bleeding anguish into your veins with everything you did, every choice you made as it never seemed to be the right one, it always ended up in pain and suffering that somehow seemed to have layers, finding new ways to torment you.

There was the initial pain from that night which plagued your mind, an incomprehensible amount of guilt flooding through you for destroying you both in ways you couldn’t describe, for being scared. You tried to justify your reasons, to convince yourself that you were protecting yourself for once, for trying to do something that would help you rather than others as you never seemed to care enough about yourself, a flaw that always came back to terrorise you. You were tired of always being the fool, the one who always ended up being broken or knocked down, so you tried to spare yourself the misery but it seemed that no matter what you would end up suffering, life forever playing a cruel joke on you.

You hated how pain also bloomed slowly, like a rose unfolding its petals, taking over your consciousness one thorn at a time as other agonising thoughts pestered you, making you question everything. You resented the guilt for hurting her, for supposedly being there to comfort her and making things worse, for avoiding her and leaving her to imagine the worst like you did when you returned. You loathed how yet, after everything, you still had hope for something, anything with her.

An annoyed sigh spilt from your lips as your hands moved to your eyes, anxiety trickling down your spine at your stupidity as your thoughts wandered down the wrong path, unable to stop yourself. That was your issue when it involved Wanda, no matter what you couldn’t stop your love for her, it was inescapable, you couldn’t get away from the memory of you both leaning in, her eyes conveying something different, something more. It was a look you had wanted to see every time she was with you, every time you spent intimately together in your truck, on this very dock, in the lake swimming with each other and pulling one another closer, it was all you ever wanted, to be looked at with love, and you threw it all away because your heart was too weak.

No, you didn’t throw anything away, there was nothing there. You had to believe this, believe that there was no chance of anything as you couldn’t carry on living like this, tortured by love for eternity. You were wrong, you had to be, you had to move on, that’s why you pulled back. It was the right thing to do, even if it hurt her, the two of you had to stop whatever this was between you, you had to let go.

Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as you desperately tried to build the courage up once again to let her go, to spend the time restitching your heart together at the gaping wound that would be left there, but you struggled to do so, drained from all the conflicting and confusing thoughts that had gnawed away at your sanity already.

Why couldn’t it just stop?

Almost on cue to save you from your inner turmoil, Lucky reappeared at your side with the tennis ball, the item plopping to the wood and rolling towards you as the dog panted, almost smiling at you and oblivious to how much comfort he provided you with, your fingers threading through his wet fur. You were just about to murmur something to the dog playfully, a weak smile growing on your lips as your thoughts still pressed heavily on your mind, when a sudden bark left his lips, his head snapping over to the side, causing your eyes to follow his alert gaze.

Nerves instantly consumed your body at the sight of a familiar figure at the end of the path, Wanda’s face twisting into shock and confusion whilst her body halted, a tension immediately filling the air as you both held the gaze, unsure of what to do.

Wanda had only come here to clear her mind after speaking to Jennifer regarding her situation with Vision, usually coming up to the Lake to either remember the happy memories that filled her mind and warmed her heart of your time together or to simply lose herself in the tranquillity of nature, not wanting to think. She didn’t expect to see you or that conflicted look engraved on her face that pulled on the strings of her heart, her face softening as neither of you wanted to make the first move.

When it became too much, your eyes getting lost in the swirls of green you’d forever remember, you turned your head away rather abruptly to break the gaze, moving your hand to cover your face for a moment, desperately trying to gather yourself together.

What was she doing here? You couldn’t take it. You didn’t want to end up getting hurt again, to feel your heart break anymore. You wouldn’t survive. You needed to get out of there.

Pushing yourself to your feet a little unsteadily, your fingers twitched subconsciously by your side as you felt anxiety and panic clawing its way up your throat in a manner you hated, your mind filling with claustrophobic thoughts as you called for Lucky to follow you, wanting to escape. You felt vulnerable under her gaze like this, something you struggled with as this was why you constantly cared for others more than yourself, you couldn’t face your own feelings, you couldn’t face reality and truly let the sorrows of your life sink in, pulling you under.

At the distress on your face, Wanda wanted to comfort you, to pull you into her arms and let the warmth of your connection settle you both but she knew that wasn’t the right thing to do, her own heart splitting into two as she couldn’t decide what to do. This was her chance, her chance to tell you everything, to confess, but the look on your face implied that you couldn’t handle it, your body gradually getting closer to hers, to pass her by, to leave her alone again. It was in the brief eye contact that you made as you somehow managed to keep moving without breaking down that Wanda saw a glint of something in your eyes, dread consuming her at the broken expression on your face as you looked at her, conveying without words that this would be the last time you saw her. It flooded memories of the day you left her the first time, that same glimmer appearing in your eyes making Wanda react, her hand reaching out for yours, not quite letting you let go just yet.

“Y/n wait, please,” she pleaded, desperation dripping from her shaky tone, the feeling of her finger tips wrapping around your arm sending sparks through your body, almost making you gasp at the intensity of it. “Please can we talk?” She tries, but all you can do is stare at where she holds you, another memory flooding your mind.

“Wanda wait,” you rush out as the other woman walks towards the end of the dock, ready to get into your truck for you to take her home, the stars shining bright above you both, the moon reflecting off the lake. The two of you had spent all day together, getting lost in the moment, unable to stop laughing and feel that gentle warmth envelope your chest in that tender manner every time you locked eyes, a nervousness building in you for the whole day as you planned to confess everything to her.

Your hand reached out to hers, gently grasping her wrist, halting her and encouraging her to turn around to face you, her green filled with confusion but also curiosity, her smile casual and affectionate as you search for words.

“I…You make me feel…um,” you stammer out, unsure of how to phrase it as the countless scenarios that played in your head started to merge together, causing you to feel lost as you tried to navigate your heart, gazing into her eyes and letting her soothe you, taking a deep breath. Her brows furrow at your words, the gentle glow of the moon illuminating her features, giving her this angelic and radiant look as you lost yourself in her beauty, awestruck by her and unable to form any words. Instead of stumbling over your words again, you try a different approach, slowly moving your hand up to her face to tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, a blush forming on her cheeks as she hesitates, your movements slowing as you gauge her reaction.

When she doesn’t pull away or give you any indication to stop, you step closer to her, giving her all the time she needed to tell you to stop, to not cross that line but she doesn’t, letting you lean in closer to her till your lips ghost one another, needing that last little bit of encouragement to kiss her for the first time.

If only you had known that kiss meant something different to her.

“I can’t,” is all you can croak out, voice raw with emotion and it shocked Wanda to see you so vulnerable, usually able to be the more composed one out of the two of you, signalling to her how heartbroken you truly were, her green expressing the guilt and regret filling her for being part of your pain. “It’s just going to hurt me, I-I can’t take it anymore,” you continue, regrettably meeting her gaze and conveying all of your emotions in a single look, almost stealing Wanda’s breath away at the intensity of it.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispers, voice delicate but wavering at the emotions flooding through her, her mouth opening and closing as she hesitates, trying to read your expression as you simply gaze at her. “I don’t,” she reiterates, trying to reassure you as you pull your hand away from her, teetering on the edge of making the decision to walk away, to leave her in the past for good. “I just…” she starts, trailing off as she lets her gaze flicker down to how your feet shuffle slightly, seeming to want to move, prompting her to confess, needing to tell you at least once, even if it was too late. “I love you.”

The world around you faded away instantly at her words, leaving you to focus solely on her, the way hope but also desperation filled her features, an anxious look glimmering in them as she waited to you react but you couldn’t, you just froze to the spot, unable to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that crashed through you, clouding your judgement.

You were supposed to be walking away from her, letting her go and moving on. You were supposed to be accepting that it was over, not letting yourself cling onto false hope, to let yourself believe again. It hadn’t ended well before, who’s to say it would work this time? Yet you still couldn’t will yourself to leave, unable to resist her as you had craved to hear those words spill from her lips for most of your life, the words replaying in your mind like a drug.

“I love you, I always have,” Wanda continues, sensing your confliction as you still, eyes flickering away from her momentarily before back to her green, looking for the honesty and sincerity lacing each delicate swirl you fell for in the first place, “I’m sorry it took me so long to say. I…I was just scared to say it, to admit it to myself that I was but I can’t keep pretending that you don’t mean everything to me. It’s always been you, I’m sorry for never seeing that.”

At her confession, you think your heart has actually physically split into two, a broken sigh escaping you as the overwhelming feelings crash down on you like a tidal wave, sweeping you under and submerging you into despair and desperation, confused about everything that was happening inside your chest and head.

Love and happiness consumed part of you, wrapping tenderly around your heart that pounded in your chest, trying to soothe you as the words gradually settled in your mind, sinking in and amplifying the hope that was building within you at every second that passed by. Your eyes held her nervous gaze, meeting the honesty, care and affection that overflowed from her green, desperately trying to convey every single ounce of love she had for you, a love that defies descriptions at how intense it was. She loved you, it was something you had waited over a decade to hear, to ring around in your head as relief tried to bloom through you, to console you and help a smile stretch across your lips but a shadow of fear crept over your mind, clouding your judgement momentarily.

Doubts picked away at every single thought you had, over analysing her words as fear ran down your spine uncomfortably, briefly appearing in your eyes making the other woman’s brows furrow, confused as to how hope swiftly diminished in your gaze, turning to something more haunting. How did you know she was telling the truth? That she wouldn’t run away as soon as those thoughts came back to terrorise her, to destroy her. You didn’t want to be something disposable again, you wanted to be the person she came home to, the person who made her feel as though the world would fade away whilst you were together, to make happiness flood through with merely a glance, you wanted to be her lover.

At your silence, dread starts to amplify the uneasy feeling in Wanda as she pressingly tries to figure out your thoughts, to untangle the onslaught of emotions flashing across your features.

“Please say something,” she begs, the fear in her voice evident as she desperately hopes that you would say something, anything to her. She didn’t care if you screamed at her, broke her heart again and confirmed that she was too late, she just wanted something, the lack of response somehow worse than anything else.

“How…How do I know you aren’t going to change your mind?” Eventually, the words leave your lips, tone hesitant and broken as you want her to answer you honestly, needing her response to help you make your final decision of whether you were going to leave. You were giving her one last chance, unable to deny her as always.

“I won’t,” she replies without hesitation, getting her determination and point across as she reaches her hand out for yours subconsciously, wanting to assure you she meant everything she was saying, the words coming from the deepest parts of her. “I’m never going to make that mistake again,” she continues, searching your gaze as you listen attentively. “I’m.. I’m divorcing Vision,” she sighs out, your eyes widening momentarily, the words filling you with a sudden hope, part of you actually believing that this could be the moment where you finally click, your feelings not clashing but finally becoming in tune with one another. “I never wanted to be with him, I just thought it’s what I had to do, what everyone wanted from me,” she whispers out, finally getting it off her chest, causing your features to soften as you knew how far her internalised homophobia festered, so hearing her actually say the words ignited something in you, the fear dissipating from your veins. She’d finally admitted it.

“Do you remember Jennifer Walter?” She asks, wanting to give you proof that her decision was made, that she wasn’t going to turn her back on you anymore. At her words, your brows instantly furrow, confused as to why she had named your old friend, letting her continue as you manage to nod in response, “She’s a lawyer now, she’s helping me get the divorce started,” the words making the earlier meeting with Jennifer make sense, realisation etched onto your features as green continue to gaze at you, one of her hands sliding into yours, the touch electric as both of you seem to instantly relax a little at the contact, warmth spreading through your hands.

“That’s why she was at your house,” you murmur out to simply voice your thoughts, the pads of your fingers brushing one another tenderly, the feeling natural despite how long it had been, your gaze flickering down to the sight, savouring the peace it brought you before lifting your gaze back up to see her nod her head. The confirmation seems to trigger something in you, the fact she was actually changing, actively trying to become the person she had always wanted to be, brewed something deep inside you, easing your nerves slightly which was mirrored in the way you searched her green. The fact you don’t reject her touches gives Wanda hope along with the glint in your eyes, the nerves seeming to settle as an intimate atmosphere wraps around the two of you like an embrace, twelve years of longing expressed in simple looks.

“I know I don’t deserve it but please give me one last chance,” she pleads, your fingers interlocking, mirroring how your souls seemed to entwine, a small sigh leaving you after, despite all the thoughts begging you to leave, you knew you were still going to follow your heart. It always belonged to her. “I want to try properly this time, I want to make this work. I want us to work,” she murmurs and you can feel yourself being freed from most of your insecurities and the fear holding you back, a soft smile gradually stretching across your lips as relief consumes you entirely.

“Promise me you wont hurt me again,” you whisper softly, lifting your free hand to cup her cheek, her eyes glossing over in consolation as she melts into your touch, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

“I promise, I never wanted to hurt you, I just… It took me too long to realise you were all I ever wanted, the only person I wanted to love,” Wanda confesses, cherishing the way your hand feels against her skin, the sheer amount of comfort it provided to you both, the warmth that flooded through you both at the electric touch, the fact that such a simple action could arise such emotions stirring something in her. This was all she ever wanted, to feel loved, to feel loved by you again. “I want to make up for everything, to love you the way I've always dreamed of loving you. Please tell me I’m not too late.”

“You certainly took your time,” you whispered in a slight tease, attempting to ease the moment as it was emotionally intense, a small chuckle escaping her, making you remember how much you had missed that noise as it blessed your ears, your finger delicately brushing over her red tinted cheek, admiring the woman. “My heart has always been yours Wanda, I’ve never stopped loving you,” you confess in an intimate murmur, a sudden happiness enveloping you as you smile at her, realising that finally you had both confessed your feelings, the yearning you had both endured building up for this exact moment, clouding your mind with the thought of her.

Your eyes flickered down to her lips, her eyes mimicking the action and gazing longingly at yours, the feeling of your fingers caressing her skin intoxicating, the way your gaze flicker up to have one last intimate gaze addictive, you couldn’t get enough of each other. Without even realising it, the two of you leaned in closer, your head tilting marginally as your lips ghost hers, ready to slot over them and let years of passion consume you both, memories of the many kisses you had shared filtering through your mind as you try to savour the moment.

Inevitably, your lips met into a tender, loving and passionate kiss, the action saying more than a thousand words but most importantly the three that mattered- I love you. It was breath taking, the intimacy of the kiss as your lips pressed against once another, igniting sparks within each other as the melody of your love played a song of tenderness and affection in your hearts, letting peace wash over you both. It was a kiss that felt like more than simply mending your broken bond, an embrace that healed and reconciled the two of you, it was the start of something new, something to base a new relationship off and cherish as you looked to the future, wanting to tackle it together.

“I love you,” Wanda whispered against your lips at the two of you parted, foreheads leaning against each other as you felt her gentle breaths tickle your face, your eyes fluttered shut as you took in everything you could about the moment, her hand in yours, body pressed against you, lips brushing yours as she uttered the words that filled your mind.

“Say it again,” you sigh out, wanting to and needing to hear her say it again, and again, and again as you were addicted to the sound of those words spilling from her lips, almost as much as you were intoxicated by the way her lips perfectly met yours.

“I. Love. You,” she punctuated every word with a kiss that somehow was filled with more care, more affection as she continued to pour everything she felt towards you into the intimate moment, drowning you both in happiness as your souls intertwined, your bodied forever pulled to one another. “It’s always been you, only you,” Wanda murmurs as you both pull back once more, your eyes gently fluttering open to meet her enticing gaze, the shades of green almost making you fall for her all over again.

Smiles tugged at both of your lips as you lost yourselves in each other, your features softening before you press a kiss to her forehead, letting everything finally sink in your mind whilst you embraced like lovers.

You knew that your love wasn’t easy, it hadn't been so far and there were bound to be times when it was rough again, but it was a battle you were ready to fight for, even if it was against the world. Distance, time and the fears you both shared had already halted your story together but you fought bravely, tirelessly for it because you knew that your love was worth every struggle.

It always would be.

She always would be.

—

I want to apologise once more for the delay in getting this chapter out but I hope it was worth it as they finally got their happy ending <3

I hope you have enjoyed their story as much as I have and I really hope this ending was alright for everyone as I really struggled with it (both planning and writing)

I want to thank you all for your support on this fic and my others as I can’t express how much you all mean to me, especially this year as it has personally been so difficult for me. I will forever be grateful to you all and I hope you know it!

This is sadly the end of the official story but my plan is to write an epilogue style final chapter which would involve smut (as I know that’s what most people want) but it’s up to you guys on which you’d rather it be!

1- A smut chapter of their first time after getting back together.

2- A smut chapter a few months after Wanda has finally divorced Vision and the Reader and Wanda both live together now (I’ll send the twins to Pietro’s don’t worry)

Please leave any thoughts/comments/votes <3

Ao3- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger

Wattpad- LovePersevering2

Tumblr- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger3000

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notlongtolove · 2 days ago

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the earth was made for lovers

they say paris is the city of love. quantico, virginia? not so much. a smattering of cafés, the occasional pop-up museum if the season feels generous. it’s all routine, really, carved out of the ordinary.

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

genre: fluff

content: day in the life of bau!reader and bf spencer on a day off, just domestic fluff... spencer reid best bf ever agenda

word count: 2.3k

note: not even gonna lie this has almost nothing to do with the linked poem other than it being romance related i just read that line and my brain ran wild with it n e ways happy end of year everyone <3

a line: It’s where you met a boy too kind for his own good, love spilling from him at the edges.

Oh the Earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain, For sighing, and gentle whispering, and unity made of twain. - emily dickinson

They say Paris is the city of love. Quantico, Virginia? Not so much. A smattering of cafés, the occasional pop-up museum if the season feels generous. It’s all routine, really, carved out of the ordinary.

Even the way you and Spencer met was decidedly unremarkable. A simple, predictable statistic—Work. No serendipitous meeting in a dusty bookshop or a fateful grab for the last box of cereal. Just proximity, shared interests, and time. Not exactly the makings of a Nicholas Sparks screenplay.

Your first date—if you could even call it that—A stakeout for the Reynolds case, which, in Spencer’s mind, seamlessly doubled as an outing, though you’d argued against it. It eventually evolved into coffee at a quiet café, a stroll through the park, and a chaste kiss on your doorstep. The weeks that followed had brought more kisses, more quiet moments, till it all became wonderfully familiar.

Now, you’re walking hand in hand, the crisp sound of leaves crunching beneath your steps.

“We should go to Venice this summer,” you say, your fingers laced with his.

“Venice?” he echoes, tilting his head.

“Mhm. The city of love,” you muse fondly.

“That’s Paris, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, for the unimaginative and basic. Think prosecco on gondolas, Spence.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow, amused. “Did you get a pay raise I didn’t hear about?”

You turn to meet him with a deadpan stare, leaning back against the cold metal pole of the bus stop. Spencer shifts, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against his chest instead. To anyone else, it’s a sweet, tender, gesture of affection. And it is, mostly. But you of all people know Spencer likes having you close just as much as he likes keeping you from resting against questionable surfaces.

“Kidding honey,” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head. “Just let’s run it by Hotch before we start packing hm?”

A breeze cuts through the air, eliciting a shiver from you. Without missing a beat, Spencer shrugs off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders. If this had been your third date, you might have flushed, awkwardly protesting that you didn’t need it. But after two years, you’ve come to learn that Spencer Reid’s stubbornness rivals his intelligence when it comes to taking care of you. So you accept it without a word.

You accept the scarf, too, when he wraps it around your neck, tucking the ends neatly beneath the lapels of his coat. Your willing acceptance earns you a kiss on the tip of your nose, followed by one to your lips, soft and lingering.

When the bus arrives, you board first—always. There’s one seat left but you decline it, offering it to someone else instead. You’re both content standing, his arm steady as it holds the rail, yours slipping around his waist. You lean into him ever so slightly, your head resting just below his shoulder.

“Aw, we should’ve stopped by the bakery,” you sigh, eyes looking longingly out the window as the bus takes a slow turn past it.

Spencer leans across you, his hand already pressing the stop button. “We can walk back,” he says, his tone casual, though he doesn’t miss the way your eyes brighten instantly.

The bus comes to a gentle halt eventually, and his hand finds yours as you step off together. The sidewalk is narrow, but Spencer doesn’t seem to mind. Up ahead, the intersection is quiet, and with no cars in sight, he instinctively steps onto the road, letting you take the sidewalk to yourself, his hand never leaving yours.

As you walk, your hand dips into your bag, fingers sifting through an assortment of small objects before pulling out a wired earpiece. With one hand, you do your best to unravel it, then hand one side to Spencer.

“S’not that long of a walk, honey,” Spencer says, though he takes his side of the earpiece anyway.

“I know,” you reply, slipping the other side into your ear. “But the weather’s so nice.”

“Says the one in two coats and my scarf.” You nudge him lightly, elbow brushing his arm as you move to select a song from your shared playlist. Spencer nods approvingly when a Turnover song starts playing. “I like this one.”

“Me too,” you murmur, letting out a contented sigh as you slip your phone back into your bag, your hands swinging gently between you. Spencer considers telling you about Turnover’s musical evolution—their shift away from emo and punk rock roots. But the thought fades when he sees you quietly humming along, smiling to himself at the sight.

The aroma of fresh pastries wafts toward you from a block away, the bakery coming into view soon after. Your steps quicken instinctively, with Spencer keeping pace. “Inside or outside?” He asks as you approach.

Normally, you’d both opt for the cozy outdoor seating, but the earlier chill has thickened, and the sky is now overcast with a looming promise of rain. You sigh dramatically as you begin to coil the earpiece in your hand, “Don’t think we have much of a choice, honey.” Spencer meets your exaggerated pout with an equally exaggerated sad smile before pulling the door open for you.

It’s quiet inside, save for the soft clinking of cutlery from a table where two elderly women chat over tea. Spencer moves behind you, helping you shrug out of his coat and scarf before draping them neatly over the back of a chair. You make your way to the counter, eyes scanning the rows of baked goods lined up.

“Three for $10 on cupcakes today,” the cashier offers warmly.

“Ooh, one chocolate please,” you say, without hesitation. Spencer’s favourite.

“And one blueberry,” Spencer says. Your favourite, of course.

His eyes flick to you, a subtle tilt of his head, and you know exactly what he’s waiting for. Banana—a close second on your list, almost guaranteed to make the cut.

You pause, pretending to deliberate, “We’ll take a red velvet,” you declare finally, and Spencer’s lips quirk upward. His other favorite.

After a small debate over who’s paying—Spencer, of course; he’d sooner recite the entirety of The Canterbury Tales backward than let you pay while he’s around—you shuffle back to your table, cupcakes in your hand and the faintest hint of triumph in his grin.

“You know where else has really good cupcakes?” you say as you set the box down between you, already digging in.

He arches a brow, “Enlighten me.”

“Venice.”

Spencer snorts, barely stifling a laugh. “Ah yes, Venice, La Serenissima, renowned across the globe for its cupcakes.”

“You mock me Spencer Reid, but seriously,” you say with indignation, wagging your finger at him for emphasis. “I was looking at flights last night and—”

“You were looking at flights?” he cuts in, leaning across the table. His hand brushes your cheek, his thumb gently swiping away a smudge of blueberry frosting you hadn't noticed. You shift, instinctively leaning into his touch.

“They’ve got some really good deals right now,” you press on, undeterred, as you tear your blueberry cupcake neatly in half, holding out the piece to him.

“I mean, I guess we could,” Spencer says thoughtfully, handing you half of his chocolate cupcake in return.

“Really?” Your face lights up.

“But,” he adds, pausing for effect as he takes a bite, “we’d have to talk to Hotch first.”

You huff theatrically as you make a point of finishing the rest of your cupcake in one exaggerated bite.

Not long after, the cupcakes are gone, their crumbs swept aside, and the first light drizzle begins to spatter against the bakery window. Spencer is quick to help you into your coat, though this time you insist you don’t need his as well. He eyes you, clearly skeptical before relents and shrugs on his own coat.

“Not that cold anymore,” you insist, but he doesn’t let you fight him when he wraps his scarf around your neck, tucking it in once more. You can’t help but smile at the gesture.

Having Spencer Reid as a boyfriend means being perpetually over-prepared for every scenario, a fact proven moments later when you pull an umbrella from your bag—the very one he had slipped in earlier that morning.

Outside, the rain is light but persistent, it’s raindrops dotting the pavement in tiny patterns. You wait under the awning as Spencer opens the umbrella, holding his arm out for you to take. Truthfully, you are cold, colder than you’d like to admit, but you know Spencer too well. Whenever you share an umbrella, he always overcompensates, always angling it just so to keep you entirely dry. By the time you get home, one side of his coat is perpetually a shade darker, soaked from the rain, while you remain dry to the touch.

You hook your arm through his, leaning into him as you walk.

“So, you’ll talk to Hotch on Monday?” you prompt, glancing up at him with a hopeful smile.

“Me? You’re the one itching to cruise around on gondolas.”

“Yeah, but he likes you more,” you counter, “you’ve known him for ages,” drawing out the last word dramatically.

“You joined the team four months after me.”

“Please?” You know full well he’s already on the verge of giving in.

“Fine,” he sighs, relenting, though the smile on his lips betrays him.

You press a delighted kiss to his shoulder. “Best boyfriend ever.”

The walk home is peaceful, the quiet only broken by one brief moment of excitement when you swore you saw a kitten dart under the hood of a parked car. Spencer humoured you, standing and holding the umbrella patiently over you as you crouched to peek under the vehicle, only to find nothing but shadows.

At your building, he shakes the umbrella off before closing it, careful not to drip water on the lobby floor. You trail behind him up the stairs, your pace slowed by the stiffness of your boots. By the time you reach your door, you’re already leaning against the frame, tugging fruitlessly at the zipper on one of them.

“I can’t wait until we’re in Venice and out of this shitty weather,” you huff, fiddling with the stubborn zip.

Spencer chuckles softly, bemused. “Uh-huh,” he says, kneeling without a second thought. His fingers find the zipper, pulling it smoothly downward in one practised motion. “Up,” he prompts, tapping your ankle lightly. You shift your weight, lifting your foot so he can slide the boot off. The moment it’s free, his hands move to the other boot, tugging at the zipper while you steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder.

“You’d think for $80, they’d have mastered the art of waterproof footwear,” he quips, straightening up and setting your boots neatly by the door. His coat follows a moment later, draped on the hook in your living room.

The opening is too good to pass up. “You know where they make the best boots?”

Spencer glances at you, already catching on, “Touché darling”. He shakes his head in amused resignation. “Tea?” he offers, moving toward the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

“Yes, please,” you reply, kicking off your socks and padding after him. You hop onto the counter, your favourite perch, and swing your legs idly as he sets the kettle on the stove.

“Venice actually has surprisingly good tea,” he says, pulling open the cabinet to grab the mugs—yours with a faint crack along the rim that you refuse to part with, (despite his repeated, that’s really dangerous, honey, warnings) and his, adorned with a fading illustration of the periodic table.

“You’re joking,” you laugh as he sets the mugs on the counter beside you before his arms cage you in, one on either side.

“I’m serious, the first Western record of tea? Venice. Everybody knows Italy’s famous for its coffee, but tea has its place too.”

You hum in faux contemplation as your arms loop around his neck. “How very fascinating,” you reply, punctuating your words with light kisses along his jaw. You can feel him smile against your cheek as he continues his impromptu lecture, but his words falter when your hands slide up to brush the damp curls from his forehead.

His lips find the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses that send you into a fit of giggles. “Spence,” you squeal, half-protesting as he nuzzles into your skin, his stubble tickling in just the right way. In your laughter, your arm brushes the counter, sending your mug tumbling to the floor with a sharp crash.

Both of you startle at the sound, Spencer’s reflexes kicking in as he immediately pulls you closer. “Shit. I’m sorry, honey.” Spencer’s eyes dart from you to the shattered ceramic on the floor. “Are you hurt?”

“M’fine,” you assure him, shaking your head. “Are you?”

He exhales, relieved, brushing his hands gently over your legs checking as if to make sure. “I’m fine, too. Just... don’t move, okay? It’s really sharp.”

You glance down at the scattered remains of your beloved mug, shoulders sagging slightly, the disappointment evident.

Spencer’s hand finds yours again, squeezing lightly as he flashes you a soft, reassuring smile. “S’okay, baby. You know where else they make really good mugs?” And you’re in a fit of laughter again.

Unfortunately, as it turns out, Hotch isn’t exactly thrilled about any PTO requests longer than two weeks—especially when it means losing two of his agents, and for an entire summer at that.

So, the summer doesn’t take you far after all. There’s no lovelock bridge, no prosecco sipped by moonlit canals. But there are cramped buses with too few seats, where you’d rather stand pressed together than sit apart. There are rain-soaked evenings, huddled close under an umbrella that never quite does its job of keeping both of you dry—though you’d argue that’s more on Spencer.

Quantico, Virginia, might not be the Eiffel Tower or a gondola gliding along a Venetian canal, but it is where Spencer first held your hand in a coffee breakroom after a scolding that left you blinking back tears, where you spent an entire evening sorting his books into new shelves after you got your own place together.

All in all, you’ve come to find that you quite like it here. It’s where you met a boy too kind for his own good, love spilling from him at the edges.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: humming by turnover pretty boy by the neighbourhood

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x bau!reader

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lucy90712 · 17 hours ago

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Finding out you’re pregnant

A/n: Happy new year guys. As promised for the new year this is the start of a pregnancy mini series. New parts will be out when I can get them done hope you enjoy ~ Lucy

Gavi:

Over the past week or so I haven't been feeling right I've felt nauseous most days and just overall not myself. I have also missed my period which only really points to one thing but I don't want to believe it. Pablo and I are still so young sure we've been together for nearly 3 years now but having kids isn't something we've talked about much. We both want them but it was always an in the future thing so for it to maybe be happening now has me panicking. I know I should take a test to find out for sure but I'm scared because once I know the result it becomes real and if I'm pregnant I have to tell Pablo.

Today though I feel like I can't put it off anymore I have to find out and deal with the consequences whatever they are. I can't do it alone though so I went out and got a test as Mikky is coming over with Miles and I figured she'd be a good person to have around when I find out as she's been through it all. When she arrived I told her how I'd been feeling and my plan and she was encouraging me straight away telling me that everything would be fine. After I took the test she waited with me and even looked at the result first as I was too scared even though I already knew what it would be. Once my suspicions were confirmed and I knew I was pregnant the conversation turned to how to tell Pablo, Mikky suggested doing something simple like just giving him the test in a box so that's what we set up.

When Pablo finally got home Mikky left leaving just the two of us. Being alone with him I felt so nervous I mean what is he going to think he doesn't often get mad at me but I can see this being one of the rare times he does. Surely he doesn't want to be tied down by a baby when his career is just starting out I know he wants to enjoy being young but I don't know if he can do that for much longer.

"Are you ok you've been extra quiet ever since I got home" Pablo said

"I'm fine but I have something for you" I said handing him the box

"You're pregnant" he whispered clearly shocked

"Yeah I am and I know we said we weren't ready for kids so I'm sorry and I get if you want nothing to do with me now" I rambled

"Hey it's ok I'm actually really excited we're starting our own family sure it's sooner than I imagined but I can't wait to see this baby grow" he said giving me a kiss which made me feel a lot better

Pedri:

Pedri and I have talked about having kids. Starting a family is something we both want but neither of us are quite ready yet or at least we weren't but now we might have to be. I've been feeling quite sick the last few days and straight away my mind went to the day Pedri and I weren't as careful as we usually are which of course has come back to haunt us. I wanted to ignore it and at least wait for my period to be late but Pedri wanted to know now and I'm not going to say no.

To find out we needed a test as I don't keep them on hand as we are always careful so I don't keep tests for emergencies but maybe I should. Pedri wanted to come in the store with me but he also didn't want us to be seen and for someone to put our business all over social media. So it was just me who went in wearing sunglasses and a mask so no one recognised me either. It was so nerve wracking buying the test especially when the cashier wished me luck I felt like a teenager sneaking around behind their parents back. On the drive home Pedri held my hand the entire way trying to help calm me down which was a sweet gesture but it didn't really help.

Back in the comfort of our own home I went straight to the downstairs bathroom to take the test. Pedri stood with me as we waited the 5 minutes for the results his arms were around my waist and my head rested on his chest as I thought about what the result might mean for us. It all feels like a lot but having Pedri there made me feel a lot better as it felt like we were truly in this together. The timer I set scared the both of us as we were in our own little world but quickly we were brought back to reality. As I went to flip the test my hands were shaking so Pedri put his hand on top of mine and we flipped the test together. Two very obvious lines stared back at us both which I thought would make me feel nervous but I was actually overwhelmed with excitement.

"I can't believe it I'm actually so excited" Pedri said

"Me too I thought I'd be more scared but I'm actually so happy" I said

"Clearly we were ready to take this step and just needed the push to realise it" he said

Jude:

Jude has always said he doesn't want kids and I was on board with that as having kids isn't something I've ever been crazy about. It isn't something I ever ruled out completely as you know people can change their minds but in my mind that was at least 5-10 years in the future if ever. Recently though I've just felt off like somethings not right so when my period was a few days late my mind went straight to the worst case scenario. Any normal person would probably tell their partner and they would figure it out together but I'm terrified to tell Jude in case he leaves me as he has made it very clear multiple times that having kids isn't something he wants.

This fear is exactly why I went and got a test and took it on my own without anyone knowing. I could've talked to one of my friends but I didn't want anyone to possibly let it slip to Jude as I need to be the one to tell him. Of course the result was exactly as I feared it would be I was very much pregnant. I cried for hours after I found out as I knew I had to tell Jude and deal with whatever the consequences will be which will probably end with me doing this alone when Jude ultimately decides to leave me. Realistically I should've told him that day to get it over with but I couldn't handle it mentally so I put it off.

It has now been over a week and I am still hiding this big secret from Jude, I have wanted to tell him I really have but the right moment hasn't come up yet. He is starting to get a bit suspicious though as he keeps asking me if I'm ok and giving me weird looks when I say I'm fine. As I've waited so long I've built up this moment so much that I'm so scared for it to actually happen.

"Hi love how are you?" Jude asked as he arrived home from training

"I'm good how was your day?" I asked back

"What's up with you I can tell you are keeping something from me please just tell me what it is whatever's wrong we can figure it out together" he nearly begged

"Please don't be mad but I'm pregnant" I finally blurted out

"Wow that's not what I was expecting" he said

"I'm sorry just please don't leave me" I cried

"I'm not going to leave you I promise I just wasn't expecting that I know I said I didn't want kids but for some reason I feel different with you I'm ready to step up and for us to do this together I'm actually kind of excited" he said

"I love you" was all I managed to say

"I love you more" he said

Joao:

Joao and I have been together for a few years and engaged for a year now and after moving to London we had a discussion about our future together and ultimately we decided that both of us were ready to take the next step and start a family. Even though we said we were ready we agreed that we didn't want to rush the process at least not right now so we wanted to take a more casual approach. I stopped taking my birth control but I haven't been tracking my cycle or doing anything special as I'm under the impression that it will happen when it happens.

Over the past few weeks I've been feeling really ill I just have no energy and I have been feeling nauseous most days. To start with I just got on with my life as I thought it was just a little cold or something but as time has gone on and I've not got any better I realised it must be something more. Joao made me call off work the past few days to rest and see if that makes me feel any better but that hasn't helped either. After another day of barely leaving our bed Joao suggested I take a pregnancy test just to be sure as then if it's not that he will definitely make me go to the doctors.

Luckily I have pregnancy tests in the bathroom for situations like this so Joao helped me out of bed and I took the test with him waiting for me right outside. I sat the test on my bedside table and we just waited. Joao had me sat in his lap on the edge of the bed stroking my hair but we sat in silence while I thought about whether I could actually be pregnant. It hasn't been long at all since I stopped taking my birth control and I didn't think it would happen this quickly but if it did that would be really exciting. The 5 minute timer Joao set passed rather quickly and suddenly it was time to learn if our lives will be changed forever or if I'm just really run down.

"I'm pregnant" I said not quite believing what the test in my hand read

"I can't believe it who knew it would happen so quickly" Joao said

"I know we haven't even been trying properly" I said

"At least we know why you have been feeling so awful now" Joao laughed

Ruben:

Ruben and I have been trying for a baby for almost a year now. To start with we were trying more casually but then I started tracking my cycle and we did things properly but that didn't work either. We have tried every tip and trick and still no positive pregnancy test. There has been times that I've had symptoms like nausea and I've even been late on my period a few times but still every month I'm greeted with a negative test. It's been hard as I want nothing more than to start a family with Ruben and I just feel so useless that I can't get pregnant like every other woman I know can.

Again this month I've had some symptoms like being extra tired and not liking food I usually love but I don't want to get my hopes up as I've been in this position before and only been let down. It's always difficult not to get a bit excited at the prospect of finally being pregnant but I don't think I can handle another disappointment at least not night now. The amount of times I have wanted to just give up have only increased especially recently, this whole process is just making me feel awful and I don't know if it is worth it especially right now.

Ruben wants me to take a test again and I can see why but I've been putting it off to avoid the disappointment. I promised him that today I would take a test but we agreed that if it was negative that we'd take a break from trying and I wouldn't take another test for a while just to protect my mental health. Of course Ruben came back from training super excited but I just can't get myself to feel the same way. Despite that I still took the test and just gave it to Ruben as I simply don't want to see the one line I've become accustomed to seeing.

"I-it's positive" Ruben chocked out a few minutes later

"What?" I questioned

"It's positive we're going to have a baby" Ruben said handing me the test so I could see for myself

He wasn't wrong there was two clear lines on the test. Neither of us could stop the tears from flowing as Ruben picked me up and spun me round which made me feel quite sick but I couldn’t care less I was just so happy this nightmare has finally ended with the result we wanted.

#gavi imagine #gavi #gavi x reader #pedri imagine #pedri x reader #pedri #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #joao felix x reader #joao felix imagine #joao felix #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias #football imagine

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littledreamer9211 · 1 day ago

Text

The bet.

A/N: Hi. This has been bugging me for weeks and I just needed to get it out. There will be a part two. Once I write it. This is barely edited or proof read but its getting late and I can barely see so I'm going to bed. Let me know what you think. If you hate it...lie to me. I'm fragile.

CW: Angst. I'm an angsty gal, what can I say. Swearing. I'm Scottish - it just comes naturally. I don't think i've missed anything but let me know if I have.

~~~~~

Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x female reader. No use of Y/N.

Word count: 3716. Sorry. I like to ramble.

~~~~~

Voices drifted in from the garden through the open kitchen window, full of joy and banter. It still blew your mind at how quickly you could identify his voice in a crowd. Listening to it now as it laughed and replied with a witty comment to Benny’s latest, good hearted insult. You couldn’t hear exactly what was being said but the laughs that came in reply, you knew were at Benny’s expense.

Walking out the join the gathering with your arms full of more beers for the cooler, they were quickly taken from you with a kiss on your cheek and a playful wink. Frankie. Ever the gentleman and the love of your life. You hadn’t even seen him move from his chair to meet you before you could struggle any further with the goods in your arms. “There she is and just in time.” Benny moved to help Frankie open the cooler and take a cold one out as you turned to smile at the small group sitting on your lawn around the fire. “Glad to know what you love more Benny.” You laughed as you joined the group, allowing Frankie to gently pull you down on to his lap as he sat back in his vacated seat. His arms wrapped around your waist and his face nuzzled into your neck as he placed a gentle kiss below your jaw. “Hey you know I love you and if it wasn’t for Frankie, I’d have been the one you married,” “Watch it.” Frankie growled playfully, his face not even leaving your neck to speak. “but alas I’m left to deal with my second favourite girl…beer.” Benny shot you a wink, not even phased by the growling man underneath you. “Easy there Catfish. We all know Benny never stood a chance after you waked into the bar that night.” Pope smiled as he remembered the look on his friends face that night. Will laughed and slapped his brothers shoulder as he walked by to grab another beer. Benny just huffed and mumbled incoherent words as he took another sip from the bottle in his hands, shooting his brother daggers before rolling his eyes. “Mine.” Was all Frankie mumbled into your ear as he squeezed your waist. You hummed in agreement and turned to place a soft kiss on his lips.

Your heart skipped and a small smile of amusement lit up your face when you thought about that night. Almost 4 years ago and it still felt like it was yesterday. You had been in a local dive bar your best friend had dragged you to after your latest tinder date couldn’t even be bothered to show up at the cafe you had agreed on. Crying to her down the phone about giving up on love and men altogether, you were ready to go home and drown your sorrows in strawberry cheesecake ice cream. Thankfully she had refused to let you wallow in self-pity and rerouted you to the dive bar that you must have drove past a million times before but never noticed. She promised that unless you wanted to go home with the town drunk or old Jesse-two-teeth then you would most definitely be having a girls night. Unbeknownst to you both, a certain group of men would be meeting in town that night to raise a glass on the anniversary of their friend Tom’s death. By the time they began to appear in the bar, you were 4 rounds of tequila in and singing your heart out to Lady GaGa that you had managed to sweet talk the bartender into playing. First to walk in were the Miller brothers. After ordering their first round and finding a table at the back of the bar, they watched the in-house entertainment that was you two, whilst they waited on the others.

By the time Pope and Frankie arrived, you had managed to talk Jesse-two-teeth into a slow dance whilst your best friend did her best Coyote Ugly impression on the bar top. The raised eyebrows and amused head shakes were all they gave up as they ordered the next round and met the brothers at their booth. It wasn’t too long after that that you were first approached. The Miller boys bought your next round and Will hit it off straight away with your friend. The two of them whispering and giggling for the rest of the night. You were happy to talk with Benny and while you could admit that he was a very attractive man, he just wasn’t your type. It didn’t stop him from trying though. But once you slurred out your awful date story and drank a glass of water at Benny’s insistence he realised it wouldn’t be going anywhere and was happy to keep you entertained whilst his brother got to know your friend…better. Once the two of them returned from their ‘bathroom break’ the boys took you over to their booth to meet their friends. As soon as Frankie raised his eyes to meet you, from the shadow of his cap, you were a goner. It was like all the air had been stolen from your lungs and all you could see where his beautiful, dark, sad eyes. Of course you played it cool - well when you tell the story thats how it comes out, Frankie’s version is of course very different. And although he managed to charm your number out of you, it took him 3 weeks to get you to agree to go out with him. That first date lasted almost 3 days. The two of you just clicked straight away and have pretty much been together ever since. It took Frankie a year to propose and the small courthouse wedding took place 2 weeks later. And here you are, sitting in your back garden with your favourite boys and the love of your life. The spark between Will and your best friend was quick to fizzle out but they remained friendly enough that it didn’t make gatherings uncomfortable.

With their jobs taking them all over the world, it wasn’t often that they could all be in the same place at the same time, so nights like tonight were precious. You snuggled into Frankie as the night went on, stealing his body heat as the warmth of the day disappeared with the setting of the sun.

As the beers continued to go down well, the conversations jumped from topic to topic. The current one being Benny’s latest dating drama. “…she was insane. Like sexy insane but not the keep around kind if you know what I mean.” Scoffs of laughter came from around the fire as we listened to his latest ‘sexcapades’ as Frankie would call them. “Damn Benny, how do you always manage to find the craziest woman in every town?” Pope shook his head as he laughed and downed the last of his beer. Benny shrugged his shoulders, a smile the size of the Cheshire cats took over his face. “We can’t all be Frankie and win the bet for the best girl in town, can we?” As Benny’s words left his mouth it was like someone poured ice water over the group. Will, who had been slouching in his chair almost asleep was now clearing his throat and shifting his eyes between his brother and you warily. Pope had choked on his beer and was thumping his chest to clear it as he growled at Benny under his breath. And Frankie…it was like he had stopped breathing. The grip he had on your waist was almost painful now as he whipped his head over to look at Benny. Benny looked at the group, confused by their reactions when nobody laughed and you watched in slow motion as he seemed to realise what he had said.

You? You burst out laughing. What a ridiculous but very Benny thing to say. It didn’t even make sense. When you realised that you were the only one laughing, something clicked in your head. What had Benny said? Something about a bet. What bet? “What are you waffling on about now Benny?” You tried to sit up to get a better look at his face but the vice grip Frankie had on you meant you were going nowhere. “Frankie. Baby, let go a bit. You’re cutting off the circulation to my legs!” But Frankie didn’t move. Turning your head to try and make eye contact with him, you noticed the absolute death glare he was shooting to the youngest in the group. “What did you mean Benny? What bet?” Your eyes flicked between them all as your brain started to click onto something being wrong. “What bet Frankie? What does he mean?” “Frankie, man. I’m sorry. I’ve had too much beer. I didn’t realise she didn’t know-” Benny moved to come closer to you and Frankie but was stopped by his brothers hand on his shoulder. Will shook his head and motioned towards the gate. “I’ll take him home.” Was all Will said as he made to steer his brother towards the trucks in the drive.

“What? No, don’t go Benny,” You managed to shake Frankie’s hands from you and made it stand in front of the blonde brothers before they could take anymore steps out of the garden. “Boy’s whats wrong? What bet?” “Let them go mi amor. Benny’s just had too much to drink, doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Frankie was standing on the other side of the fire pit, his hands flexing down by his side. Pope had moved to stand at his left side. The light from the fire highlighting the stress in both their faces. “If it’s nothing bad then tell me what it means Frankie.” Your hands flew up with frustration and landed on your hips. “Will? Pope? Someone tell me what the fuck just happened.” All four men couldn’t look at you. Benny’s head was so far down that you would have to get on your knees to make eye contact with him. Will’s never left Frankie, he’d moved into protective big brother mode. Pope’s eyes were closed, his fingers grasping at the bridge of his nose in frustration. And Frankie’s killer look had never left Benny. Like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

In the silence, your brain started to tick over what had just happened. What was it that Benny had said? Frankie had won a bet for the best girl in town? Me? Frankie had won some bet to get me? “What bet Frankie?” Nobody moved. Nobody said a word. If someone was to walk in on the scene right now it would be like something out of an old cowboy western, enemies waiting for the first twitch to snatch out their pistols and make sure they’re the ones to shoot first. Keeping your eyes on Frankie, “Boys…go home.” Came out of your mouth. The tone was deathly calm. Frankie knew that tone straight away and it was the only thing that was able to make him finally move his eyes from Benny and connect with yours. It was then that you saw the shift in his features. From livid to terrified. You didn’t break eye contact with your husband as you heard the other men as the muttered and moved towards the garden gate, towards their trucks. With a final, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start anything,” from Benny, it was just you and Frankie left. Eventually you heard the start of their engines and the roaring as they took off out of the driveway.

You watched as Frankie made to move towards you but before he could take more than a step, you turned on your heels and headed into the house. Shivers raced throughout your body but you had a feeling it was more than just the cooling night air. As you crossed the threshold you heard a faint “fuck” from Frankie before his footsteps followed you.

You needed something to do with your hands whilst your mind was whirring so you grabbed the tea towel and started to dry the already dry dinner plates from the side of the sink. On your third plate you felt Frankie’s hands rest on your hips and his head rest between your shoulders. Your head drops forward, eyes closed as you gently discard the towel and plate in your hand. Your hands move to grip his, his black wedding band digging into your palm with the force of your grip. “Speak to me Frankie.” Your whisper breaks the air and you think he’s not going to answer until you hear him let out a long, defeated sigh. Twisting in his arms, your hands move to cup his face whilst your eyes search his. He looks so sad. “Please.” He moves one hand to push his cap up and run his fingers over his scalp before putting it back in place. “Fucking Benny.” He grumbled whilst moving to lean against the island counter opposite you. The move felt like he had put miles between you. Wrapping your own arms around yourself as a form of protection, from what you didn’t know, as you waited for him to say anything else.

“It’s stupid. Nothing really. I don’t know why he’s got to bring up such stupid shit when he starts drinking.” You remained silent, letting him work out what he needed to say. “I honestly forgot all about it. It means nothing.” He crossed his arms as he leant against the counter top but his foot tapped against the tiles in an angry/frustrated rhythm. Your silence only seemed to make his foot tapping worse. “Do you remember the night we met? In that grotty bar in town?” He waited for your nod of acknowledgment before continuing. “It was a pretty rough night for us. It was the first time we’d seen each other again since Tom…”

He’d never gone into too much detail of what went on during that mission but you knew enough to put the pieces together and come to the conclusion that it certainly didn’t go the way they had planned even before Tom was killed. “We thought going to that bar would be best, nobody goes there. We didn’t need anyone to see us drinking our sorrows away like that.” His hand moved to rub at the back of his neck as the sound of his phone ringing in his pocket distracted him. Pulling the device out with a sigh, he looked at the caller ID.

Without answering, he threw the device across the kitchen, not caring where it landed or the damage it would cause. As it soared through the air, you could just make out Benny’s face before it disappeared and became silent.

“Give it a rest man.” He grumbled before focussing back on you. His brow furrowed when he finally realised the closed off stance you were stood in. Eyes focussed on your crossed arms, he continued, “You were like the light at the end of the tunnel. A breeze of fresh air that I didn’t know I needed until I saw you dancing with that toothless, old goat at the bar.” A faint smile lifted his mouth as he reminisced. “I knew straight away that I needed you. As soon as I walked in I knew that I needed to make you mine some how. But Benny…” The smile wiped from his face as he thought about his ‘brother’. “Benny had his eye on you too. And you know what a little shit he can be. Especially when he can sense any hint of competition.”

He was right. Benny was so competitive that you had learned very quickly over the last couple of years to never go against him unless you knew for certain that you could win and even then he wasn’t against cheating in some way. It was all in good fun but not worth the hassle if you were being honest.

Benny having his eye on you was knew information though. You had been victim to his endless flirting more than once and you wont lie, you liked the flirty banter. It was never more than that though, after all you had Frankie. You never needed more than him.

“Well we weren’t much more sober than you were. And what started as a joking comment from Pope was blown into a Benny bet.” “A Benny bet?” Your voice came out much more fragile than you had wanted. You had a feeling you knew where this was going but prayed to anyone who would listen that you were wrong.

Frankie looked sheepish as he shrugged his shoulders, his hands sliding into the front pockets of his jeans. “Yeah. He wanted to make a bet about who could get the girl first. Get you first.” You nodded in understanding as you felt your heart freezing. This was going exactly where you didn’t want it to go. “Thats when he and Will made their way over to you. He was trying to woo you.” He shook his head with a soft snort. “When he realised that you weren’t interested he was going to forget about the bet but then he brought you over to the table.” He stopped for a moment and just stared at you, his throat bobbed as he thought about his next words. “When he saw I was smitten and you were too but were trying to play it cool as you would say, he wanted to change the bet. He knew he was going to lose and he couldn’t have that.”

“For fuck sake Frankie.” Your hands moved to run through your hair as you tipped your head back and whispered your words at the ceiling. You could feel your insecurities raising their heads. Insecurities that hadn’t been around for years, since Frankie had broke down your walls and taught you to trust again.

“I’m so sorry baby. I wanted to tell you from the beginning but I…I guess I got scared.” He moved to stand directly in front of you. His arms caging you in against the counter. He knew better than to touch you right now but he needed to be close to you.

“You know…if you had told me all of this from the beginning? I probably would have found it funny,” You shrugged your shoulders to seem indifferent but he knew you better than that and his close proximity allowed him to see your bottom lip quiver just slightly. “But now? It feels like our whole marriage is based on a lie. Was I just a joke to you Frankie?”

His head whipped back in shock. “No baby, never!” His words came out firm but you couldn’t hear them. Your head was being overrun by old demons. “Hey…” He tried to catch your eye but instead you moved his arm and slipped out. You moved to the other side of the island counter, needing the space between you so you could think. All he could do was watch, his mouth pursed and eyebrows crunched.

“What were the stakes?” Voice breaking, you cleared your throat and tried again. “How much did I win you in your precious bet?” “Don’t do that. You know you mean the world to me. You are my life-” He tried to lean across the counter and catch your hands but you were faster and took a step back. “-baby.” “What. Did. You. Win. Frankie.” You took a breath between each word to stop yourself from crying. It came out as more of a statement than a question.

“He - We changed the bet.” His hand rubbed across the stubble on his chin, his black wedding band almost mocking you. “He wanted to bet that…god I hate myself right now.” He was actually crying now. It must be bad. “It’s Benny. He wanted to bet that I couldn’t get you to sleep with me before the second date.”

A knife. There must be a knife that somehow ended up embedded in your chest as you suddenly couldn’t breathe. Your gasp must have been louder than you thought because before you could blink, he was around that counter with his hands on your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears you didn’t realise had started to fall.

“W-we slept together on the first date Frankie.” Your voice came out broken and it only made him cry harder. “I know baby. I know.” Your hands came up to wrap around his wrists. You squeezed them before slowly pulling them off. You knew he could stop you if he wanted to but thankfully he cooperated. “So did you win?” Running your hands under your eyes to dry the tears, you stared at him expectantly. “P-please don’t do this. It wasn’t like that. Our first time was-“ “A fucking joke apparently.” You burst out. You could feel the heartbreak being overtaken by pure rage. “Mi amor. Please.” He took a step towards you again but you put your hand up to stop him. Shaking your head.

“Damn you Fransisco Morales.” The finger you pointed in his face as you spat out the words stopped him dead in his tracks. “What did you fucking win? The least you can do right now is tell me what it is I’m apparently worth to you.” With his hands on his hips, he looked down at the floor before daring to look at you again. “Please listen to me for just a minute. It wasn’t like-“

“FRANKIE!” You had never shouted his name like that before. You don’t think you have ever shouted at anyone like that before.

Your breathing was ragged as you watched him. He looked over to the window, sniffing as he mumbled something under his breath. “Wha-“ “200.” It felt like he stared right into your soul as he spoke. “$200. Thats what I would have won.”

You nodded your head as if to say thank you, then without a word turned and walked calmly and silently to your bedroom and locked the door behind you.

You didn’t even flinch when you heard what you assume was your nice dinner plates smashing against the kitchen floor.

#pedro pascal #frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #francisco morales x reader

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asph-phell3 · 2 days ago

Text

So what are we now?.. like lovers?

⠀⠀× Oh my g! I think I can finally have motivation ⠀⠀⠀⠀to write, I feel amazing right now.

⠀⠀× The reader I used kinda sounds a bit ⠀⠀⠀⠀nonchalant because I love sun x moon ⠀⠀⠀⠀dynamics. Sorry ><

⠀⠀× Reader does not have a stated job, their job will ⠀⠀⠀⠀remain ambiguous; takes place in tulpar

⠀⠀⠀Today was tiring, like the rest of the previous days. Jimmy was always asking for you to do this, do that, and do those! Like at this point, it's getting really exhausting even for you. After doing the job that Jimmy assigned you again, you felt like rest was at your door. The urge to crawl into your quarters and sleep for weeks on end was engraved on your mind; somehow you couldn't bring yourself to actually rest despite being so tired. Maybe you were getting used to getting less and lesser sleep now.

⠀⠀⠀You sat at the common room, dazed as you stare at the floor. Your mind projecting random shit for you so that you wouldn't fall asleep or something— the train of memories just ended when you felt something move next to you. Oh, it was Daisuke.

⠀⠀⠀You didn't really interact with other than much, on the flip side, it was mostly Daisuke doing the talking and you just replied with some nods and short phrases but you did listen to him. I'm sure he wouldn't take it as an offense if you found him weird (technically) but still, it feels comforting to talk to him. Out of everyone in the freighter, Daisuke seems the most approachable and friendliest!

⠀⠀⠀Some problems were just starting to bubble up as Jimmy bosses you around, mentally and physically exhausting you to your limit; it was obvious from the look of your face after all. Daisuke looked at you with a big fat hint of worry, the way he stared felt more to you. You just can't seem to point it out, and it's not like you'll say it out loud either.

⠀⠀⠀“..You good? Just asking since you seem tired as fuck.“ Said the sunshine. You just sighed, not knowing how to process your troubles that's mixing in with your exhausted form. “Absolutely deadbeat.“ was your reply. You can't even fathom to reply properly from the overwhelming ache in your body.

⠀⠀⠀“Ooh, how about you go to my room?“ He said. It was a weird thing to ask when both have separate quarters, and not like there was a reason for you to not accept. Not that you'll decline, the company you've wanted has been itching for a while. “Eh, sure why not.“

⠀⠀⠀There in you are in Daisuke's room. Daisuke was just ranting per usual about anything really: his gameboy, Swansea and his work, past events back on earth. The way he talks was slowly getting to you, something about him talking gives you comfort.

⠀⠀⠀“You know, you're really pretty like the Oirase Gorge back in Japan!“ Daisuke just blurted out. It was obvious that blatant that Daisuke often speaks before he thinks— You were a bit confused, not knowing much spots in Japan nor were you the geographic type. You also felt flustered, mostly focusing on the "you're so pretty!" part. Somehow it got to you, why did it get to you?

⠀⠀⠀“Ah- Uh, alright.. I'm sure that place is pretty!“ You tried to strive in confidence while you were breaking down from the embarrassment, you've never been complimented like this before. Somehow you find it endearing. Daisuke doesn't seem to notice the undertone of his words, he just continued on with his compliments with you. Pointing every aspect of you in an endearing way.

⠀⠀⠀Somehow, and I mean SOMEHOW. Somehow, the little complimenting propaganda Daisuke was doing? Oh it ended up turning into a damn ass confession that's what! Now you don't know how to respond; you need to say yes, yet the words aren't processing in your head which led you to just stay as solid as a statue...

⠀⠀⠀“Oh- Oh shit, yeah! Yeah.. I like you too!“ You blurted out, it was more a spur in the moment. It was like that was your automatically reply— Dare I say the ending was just you getting pounced on by your new boyfriend!

omg excuse me for being a lazy on the ending. I'm actually like tired asf!!! Hope this can satisfy you IM CRYING 💔💔

#mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing #✮ glory's scroll #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke x reader #fluff #IDEK #this trope is cute!!

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jollyhunter · 3 days ago

Text

Beau!Dean x hunter!reader - The Broken Circle

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! ♡

Characters: (mostly) Beau Arlen / (flashbacks, for now) Dean Winchester x hunter!reader, also Denise and Cassie AU: "Supernatural" x "Big Sky" crossover, set after S15 of SPN

One Shot (???)

Warnings: - Major MC death mentioned (end of SPN spoiler), implied panic attack, angst and just buckets of tears (I'm coping with a certain someone's death here) - No use of Y/N - English is not my native language

Words: ~4,050

Setup: "Winchester" - That's the name you applied with at the police department, when you started a new life in Big Sky, Montana, 4 years ago. It's your deceased husband's name. Or rather, meant-to-be husband, since Dean died 2 weeks before he got to propose to you. Today you return from your one month time-out. But a lot has changed since you went to visit Sam; You've got a new sheriff.

And he's the same man you thought you'd never see again.

The Broken Circle

Cold.

In one word, that's your last memory of when you gingerly cupped Dean’s face. How your tender fingers caressed his bruised cheeks and wiped away the dirt from his battered skin. Shakily combed out the rubble from his damp brown hair and scrubbed the dry blood off his fingers.

The last time you squeezed Dean's lifeless hand before it slipped from your trembling fingers. Cold and busted lips scraped against yours when you gently kissed him goodbye for the last time in this life.

...Or so you hoped. Who knew what heaven had in stock for you two.

You just wished you could have been there, in that damn barn. Been with him in his last minutes. Could have held his hand next to Sam. Could have told him how much you loved him. Reassure him that you'd give up the hunting life like you both had planned. That you'd try and live a good life for him... and that you were sure you'd see each other again.

But instead you had to take leave of Dean's lifeless body. Hollow. Drained of everything that made him the man you loved and had planned to spend the rest of your life with.

Dean gave his life for so many innocent people – hell, for the entire world. But he never got to have his own life. Never got to live it the way he wished to.

It just seemed so damn unfair. You had so much planned for your future. Have yourself some rug rats, a dog maybe, a house, a garden with those ridiculous white picket fences. You’d live a cherry pie life once you’d leave the hunting life behind you.

Or so you liked to picture it in your heads. On those rare, peaceful nights where you'd rest in each others arms like an old couple. His fingers combing your hair while your thumb carefully stroked his battered knuckles. Whispers of daring dreams filling the silence.

But reality was cold. Bloody. Like an animal put down. With a last effort, put to rest on his bed in the bunker by Sam and you.

This image will haunt you for the rest of your life, you know it. It already did for the past 5 years. If only you could have —

"Winchester?"

You blink rapidly, your mind thrown off for a moment when you snap out of your spiraling thoughts.

Denise waves with a paper in front of you to get your attention back. "She was mutilated. And it wasn't a bear. Her heart had been cut out."

"Jesus," Cassie breathes with a look of shock and disgust, shifting uncomfortably next to you.

"Yeah," Denise's face grimaces into a painful one. Her eyes are darting from Cassie, down to the report and back up to your still slightly absent gaze. "What do you make of it, Winchester?"

"Sounds like a werewolf." Damn it. The words slipped your lips before you could fully snap out of your memories. “I mean, sounds like a bit far-fetched but I’ll let Sheriff Tubbs know.” You force a wry smile when you grab the piece of paper from Denise’s hands, ready to head out of this messed up conversation.

“Sheriff Arlen,” Cassie calls after you and you stop in your tracks to look back at them with arched eyebrows.

“Sheriff who?” You inquire with a puzzled look. How the hell could you have missed this much in just one month off duty?

“Sheriff Beau Arlen,” Cassie repeats and Denise quickly adds with a teasing hum, “And his ass is just- mmmh-” she makes a chef’s kiss hand gesture while Cassie rolls her eyes with an amused chuckle.

You let out a huff in mock-annoyance but can’t help the faint grin on your face. Maybe, one day you’d dare to befriend them. Maybe, whenever you’d feel ready for letting people into your life again. But not today.

Ready to pick up your work at the police department, your eyes immediately land on the new name on what used to be Sheriff Tubbs office. ‘Sheriff Beau Arlen’ is written in an arched, golden text across the door’s glass.

You raise a sceptical eyebrow at the name. “Beau” you spit out the name under your breath, already feeling a distaste for this new sheriff.

In your defence, it wasn’t personal. It is just in your nature to feel sceptical towards anything new, especially people. Perhaps you gave up your hunting life. But any hunter will tell you between a swig of whiskey and a loaded shotgun that you’ll never lose your hunter instincts, no matter how hard you try. That’s not how it works. You don’t end this business by walking out the door.

It ends you.

In some way you were like trained bloodhounds. Always one chase away of your next kill. Unable to ignore the smell of blood. You were painfully aware of that fact. You could never live a fully normal life without the occasional hunch or a nervous look over your shoulder.

But you’d learned to accept it and make the best of it.

Here you can still help people. Save people. And once in a while nudge the sheriff into the right direction when you suspected something more than a suicide. Or you’d discreetly plant anti-possession charms on people when you had a hunch that demons were involved in a case.

Yet Sam believes you had retired fully from hunting like he did. And you liked to belief so, too. But on some days you weren’t so sure whether you even wanted to.

In some twisted way, hunting will always connect you with Dean. And at the same time it pains you, like a slow poison. Because you know it’s what he hated and never wanted for you.

And what took him from you.

It is a walk on a tight rope, really.

With a little huff of defiance you push the door to the sheriff’s office open. Your eyes dart around the empty room as you lean slightly forward, “Sheriff Arlen?”

Nothing. Oh well. With a quick glance over your shoulder you decide to take the chance and just drop off the report. You step inside, your fingers tracing the edge of the paper as your mind is instinctively drawn back to the case. I’ll have to look into this… bloody werewolf —

“Ah, Deputy Winchester, ain’t it?”

You freeze in mid motion.

And so does time. The paper slowly slides from between your trembling fingers and flutters to the floor. The unmistakable voice jolting through your mind and body like a lightning bolt. Your breath is caught in your throat, your mind and body paralysed.

The world holds its breath.

This is impossible.

“...Winchester, innit?” he repeats as he steps into the office and casually walks up to you, a wide smile spread across his face.

It can’t – NO.

You don’t dare to turn around.

Not that your body would be capable of any movement anyway. Every muscle is tense, your spine’s gone completely rigid. And your heart’s hammering against your ribs like it’ll crack your chest open from the inside.

You stand there like a deer caught in headlights. Headlights of a ‘67 Chevy Impala called Baby.

It has to be my imagination.

“Ya got somethin’ for me there? Oh-” You feel his elbow briefly brush your side as he bends down to pick up the paper next to your foot.

You don’t move an inch and stare ahead.

He straightens up again and steps around you to place it down on his desk. When he finally moves into your view and turns around to face you with his warm smile – your heart stops.

Emerald green eyes look back at you. Deep and sparkling green oceans. Alive.

Your brain freezes. Your mind scrambling for an explanation but failing to come up with anything.

This can’t be.

After a moment of tense silence, the tremors of your bottom lip make way for what your mind refuses to believe in.

“Dean?”

His name slips you in a mere breathless murmur. Afraid that whatever this is, will shatter the moment you dare to breath again.

Beau raises a brow. “Dean?”

He repeats the name with such nonchalance, such valuelessness, like it’s just some random clerk who he’s got no business with. As if that name didn’t mean the world to you once. Still would. Still does.

But the way his name dropped from his lips…

It clogs your airways. And the question mark at the end was him ramming a dagger into your heart and twisting it, without him even realising.

“Uh, no ain’t that.” He gently shakes his head and his lips melt into a cheeky smile as if that would make his next words any less painful.

“I’m Beau.”

Silence. Once again you feel like the air’s sucked out of your lungs. Like someone had pushed you off a cliff.

Someone who is an imposter of your deceased husband.

Beau. Your jaw clenches. And the name bounces off your mind. Your initial reaction being immediate rejection. No, you’re not... Beau.

Your eyes flicker across the man in front of you.

He might look quite… changed. He’s got a beard, neatly trimmed even. His hair is longer and… soft. Gone was the rugged and calloused man you loved. But it is still him. His eyes with their hidden secrets lingering behind those intense glinting, emerald green pools. His bow legs you’d recognize out of a hundred. His voice, his features, his – everything. Everything on him seems much softer but still… in your eyes, it’s Dean. No doubt.

“Why are ya lookin’ like you saw a ghost?” Beau questions with a tilt of his head, leaning back against the edge of his desk.

His voice snaps you out of your intense gaze. Your mouth opens, but no words make it past your quivering lips. All words drowned out in a flood of a million questions. Your focus drifts off, your eyes darting around the office like you’re expecting Gabriel to pop up any second and laugh at you.

But the room stays reduced to the two of you.

You feel like you’re on a tipping point.

Hands clenched, one subtly moves back to your hidden silver dagger – you do what you were trained to do in situations like these; Your mind grips for the lifeline and kicks into hunter mode. You rattle off the list of possible monsters; Shapeshifter? Ghoul? Am I dreaming? Is it some sick game of a trickster God? —

“Darlin’? You alright?” he asks, his voice now more concerned. You look terrified. As pale as a sheet, the blood drained from your face. Close to a panic attack, he guesses by your rapid breaths. Beau reaches out with his hand, gently patting your arm to get your attention. “Hey… Easy, just breathe.”

At his touch you jolt and finally snap out of your state of shock. The hand hovering over the concealed weapon falters. His worried eyes lock with yours.

The life-line snaps. Your mind tips over. Enough to make your stomach twist and turn, about to throw up. With only one shared look, everything’s back; The pain, the poignant grief, the cold skin under your fingertips, Dean’s lifeless expression, emerald eyes gone dull, the stench of decay, of old blood and dirt and his burning flesh and-- it all crashes down on you. All the emotions and memories you had buried in the depths of your mind, now laid open.

Fresh and hungry. Slowly swallowing you whole. Again.

“I- I don’t feel so… good – sorry,” you sputter, your hand clutching your chest in an effort to keep it together. The same second you spin around on your heels and storm out of the office without looking back once.

Beau. His mere presence was suffocating.

You remember the moment you and Sam cleaned up Dean’s lifeless body. How your fingers brushed against a folded paper, carefully tucked away in his jacket’s inside pocket.

Sam’s face had contorted the moment you pulled it out. Clearly, he had known what secret the paper held and before you got to question his knowing look, he suddenly got up. While walking out, he said he’d give you some time alone with his brother.

Once you unfolded the notepaper halfway, your breath stopped. Your eyes slowly shifted from one scribbled word to the next, each of them hitting harder than the next, each of them taking more of your breath. You swallowed past the lump in your throat when the realization of what you’d been holding in your hand slowly set in.

They were notes of Dean. Notes for your upcoming anniversary in two weeks.

You unfolded the rest of it and your eyes widened. The paper began to crumple in your shaking hands while wet stains swallowed some of his jotted down keywords. When your burning eyes reached the last four words, it had felt like whatever was left of your broken heart had just been ripped out entirely.

The raw emotions rolled down your cheeks, your tears mixing with his last unspoken words…

“Will you marry me?”

Beau was left back staring at the slammed door in bewilderment and a little stunned. After a moment, he sighs and pushes off the desk to follow after you.

“Winchester!” He calls down the corridor, watching you stumble out the front door into the outside. He jogs after you, slightly panting, while his eyes dart around the parking lot in search for you.

The rain crashes down on him the moment he steps outside. His head briefly tilts up to face the grey sky with an annoyed groan. The raindrops are pattering against his creased forehead, running down his cheeks to pool at the tip of his beard.

But then he hears a muffled sniffle next to him. Strands of his soaked hair fall into his face when he whirls his head around, spotting you leaned against the wall.

“No- no – it can’t be you – Damn it – it can’t…” you mutter under your rapid breaths, somehow trying to fight your scrunched up, stinging eyes with words of common sense. Your chest feels constricted. Your heart’s hammering in your ears and your breath’s clipped, feeling like you might faint any moment of lack of oxygen.

Leaning back against the wet wall for some support, your mind’s on the brink of a breakdown. There’s no explanation for this. This can’t be happening.

Beau suddenly appears in front of you and before you get to react, he places a hand on your shoulder. You flinch but don’t pull away. His hand feels heavy against your soaked jacket, grounding, gentle – but casual, like you would with a stranger. You are strangers.

“Hey, hey take it easy. You’re gonna give yourself a panic attack. You’ll be okay.” He says as he crouches down to your level. He glances over your trembling body and how your eyes try to avoid his, your expression like you’d just witnessed a murder in slow-motion.

“Look at me, deep breaths.” Beau speaks in a firmer, yet gentle tone, trying to break through your panicked state.

When you refuse to look up, he tilts his head down to meet your eyes behind some soaked stray hair that sticks to your skin. He pushes them out of your face, his intense gaze searching your contorted face for some form of hint for what’s got you so spooked.

He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. While his soothing words just keep coming, his voice now a lower whisper as he’s desperately trying to understand what is going on in that head of yours, “Hey, c’mon… talk to me, Winchester…”

Your eyes are burning from the tears that have been building up until now. Eyelashes heavy and clumped together by the droplets of the rain. And his intense eyes staring into yours, the very same eyes you fell in love with over 10 years ago, do nothing to ease your pain.

You try to tear your gaze away from his, but find yourself caught in them. It’s like you’re staring into a beautiful forest after years of living in a desert. They pull you in, and you feel like you are right back where you’d always longed to be. Home.

But a home that isn’t yours any more. The soul behind those eyes looks familiar and yet unfamiliar at the same time. You thought you’d never see those eyes again – but those very same eyes hold no memory of you.

The same question keeps repeating in your head, ripping at your heart and soul like a Hellhound.

Dean… is this you?

His voice cuts through your thoughts like a soft knife. “Take deep breaths darlin’, it’s oka-”

“Please- just-” you cut him short, a painful, shaky breath rippling through your voice, “Just stop talking.” Beau’s voice is like a dagger to your heart, twisting it whenever he speaks up. Mocking your memories with that uncanny tone of his.

I’m just tired. You hear Dean’s voice in your head and just like him, you wished you didn’t feel a damn thing.

Beau raises a brow and tilts his head forward, studying your face. For a moment he opens his mouth about to speak again, but when he sees you flinch, he forces himself to shut it closed.

His jaw’s clenched from fighting the urge to talk and feeling a bit overwhelmed with the entire situation. Not knowing where to go with himself or what to do without making things worse. He isn’t sure what it is, but something about you tugs at his heart in a way he can’t quite understand. But he quickly dismisses it, for now.

His eyes snap up to the sky when the rain starts to increase. Heavy drops splatter off the both of you, coaxing a single tear to let go of the corner of your eye. It was like the sky cried for you. Eyes that parched exactly 5 years ago.

Without a word he moves closer, gently wrapping his free arm around your waist. But you stop him before his palm touches your side. Your hand's shaking as it clings to his wrist like a lifeline.

Beau’s eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t comment on it. His expression grows pensive and his eyebrows slightly furrow, watching your trembling form. Your chest's heaving heavily, like you’re struggling for air. And your eyes are out of focus, like they're reliving some nightmare.

He suddenly feels a strong protectiveness - decides to hold himself back, though, afraid he might make things worse. But it pains him terribly to see you this way, even if he might not know you, yet.

You don’t say anything. Unable to form the right words as nothing could express the storm of contradicting emotions you are trapped in. The wavering grip on his arm is clenching and unclenching subtly as if unsure whether you want to push him away or pull him in.

“Sorry,” you finally croak between shuddering breaths, unsure what you were even apologizing for, “I’m sorry…”

Why were you apologizing? A strange feeling settles in his guts, one of this being a lot bigger than he could comprehend.

Next moment you know, you’re pulled into a tight hug. Both his arms wrapping around you to pull you close and hold you together.

At first you stiffen. Standing there like a fragile, shaking tree. Your arms pressed against your sides, unable to comprehend any more what is happening.

But he keeps you in his embrace, murmuring soothing words, muffled by your hair and the heavy rain. You lift your head slightly, just enough for your wavering eyes to meet his again.

That’s when the realization hits you. He looks so whole. So unbroken. His skin and his hair was smooth and tender beneath that thin layer of rain. He lacks any form of scar, any edges or any memory of the horrors you and he had faced and committed. Your heart twists; This isn’t what a scarred hunter looks like. And at the same time you feel your heart sink at the next conclusion… Beau would have been Dean’s idea of a perfect life, without ever having been born into the hunting business.

And it makes you wonder whether he was granted that alternate life.

Beau feels your trembling body against him and how your gaze is searching his face for something he doesn't know. Why are you looking at him like that? A lump forms in his throat. His hand gently caresses your back in a circle motion, while his other keeps stroking your hair.

“It’s alright, s’okay. You’re okay.” Beau says in a soothing, comforting tone and he tugs you a little closer, allowing you to rest against him.

Your wet hair falls into your face once more when your head drops to his chest. You both stay still, the only sound being the pitter-patter from the raindrops against the hood of his truck and the puddles around you. Your ragged breath’s nearly drowned out by the rain. The world seems to have shrunk to the beat of his heart softly thudding against your ear.

And that breaks the dam. Tears it down as the floods of emotions search their way out. Your shoulders rise and buckle against his chest. The tears finally break free, streaming down your face, mixing with the rain soaking your clothings. Your body wracked with sobs – raw, desperate, painful. Liberating.

You begin to shake uncontrollably, the sobs growing more and more powerful. They start to rack through every fibre of your body. Your legs grow unsteady beneath you, daring to crumble from the weight of every emotion you had buried in the past 5 years released and unloading all at once.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll stay right here as long as ya need me to. C’mere…” He reassures you, and pulls you even closer. His chin comes to rest on top of your head, his facial hair brushing against your scalp and his warm breath wafting down at you. “Just let it out… you’re gonna be okay… you’re not alone, ‘kay?”

You clutch at his jacket tightly, holding onto him like you’re drowning. Like you’re afraid he might be a dream after all. Might disappear from your grasp at any moment. Everything spills out of you, incoherent words bubbling from your wet lips. “Y-y-you’re alive- you’re alive- a-alive- I missed you so much, Dean- so so much-”

Beau can’t exactly make out the words that are tumbling from your mouth, but he can feel you shaking against him terribly. He quickly takes his big jacket off to drape it over you, to try and keep the rain and cold off you.

His heart tightens at the sight of your curled-up body, clinging to him while shivering badly and breaking apart in his arms. He slowly begins to speak again, a hint of an encouraging smile on his face, “Hey, ‘m gonna pick ya up. Ya ain’t gonna stand that cold and rain. Ya’ll get sick.” He then places his arms on your back and under your thighs, before lifting you up off the ground in one smooth motion.

He holds you close against his chest, wrapping his jacket over you for extra warmth. The rain patters against the concrete floor while his boots splash through the puddles, carrying you over to his truck.

You don’t protest as your body was giving in at this point. Like a run down shed in a storm.

Your fingers slowly going numb from the death grip, the wet and cold. You choke on your sobs while the tears keep rolling down your reddened cheeks.

But from joy.

You don’t know whether he is Dean or not. Whether this is real or you finally lost it.

But in this very moment you didn’t care.

You let yourself drift back to the happiest place in your mind. One you hadn’t dared to visit for many years. Locked up and keys buried along your husband. Deep down in your broken heart.

When you close your eyes and press the side of your face against his chest, you can hear his heart pounding. When he speaks, you hear Dean’s voice above you, soft and peaceful.

And you feel his body through the drenched pieces of clothings between you.

He feels warm. Warm.

A/N: it was meant to be a drabble IT WAS MEANT TO BE A DRABBLE

I'M NOT CRYIN'- OKAY FINE I'm still coping with his death - I haven't even watched it since I'm still catching up with the seasons. GAWD I HTE THIS - I JUST NEEDED CLOSURE DAMN IT

Anyway, I just had to get this story off my chest before next year. I don’t know yet whether it deserves more parts but do let me know if you think so!

Tags:

@aylacavebear

#how do i even tag this #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen fanfiction #beau arlen x you #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #spn x reader #spn reader insert #big sky fanfiction #spn crossover #spn x big sky #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic

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madhatterbri · 2 days ago

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Tag Team | D.P. Part 2

Summary: Thanks for taking my request for Tag Team! :D Hope u don’t mind a pt 2? Reader is confronted by an interviewer followed by TJD about what just happened. Reader freaks out & runs off. A week later, Damian wants to talk about it but tells him she only did it in the heat of the moment. The incident reignites the feud b/w Priest & TJD, with the reader accidentally getting herself in awkward situations w/ Priest that causes each member to lose. There’s a moment where reader almost kisses Priest again only to be saved by Liv & Raquel.

Requested by: Anonymous

Happy Monday Night RAW, babes. 🫶

Damian Priest Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Taglist: @theworldofotps @smallestsnarkestgirl @mrsarcherofinfamy @terrortwinunicorn @brideofinfamy @miss-kuki-nz @hotwheels1108 @new-zealand-chic @magicalbuttertarts @eringobragh420 @missbmc94 @surdelcielo @hodgepodge-musings

"Y/N! Y/N!" Cathy Kelley called for her. Y/N stopped and looked at her. She couldn't believe all this was happening right now. Her mind was still buzzing from the kiss, and now she had to do an interview. They weren't going to ask about the match. It was all going to be about the kiss.

The kiss. The kiss that made her mind foggy, toes curl, and lips tingle.

"Yeah? What?" She asked uncharacteristically rude. Her head buried in her hands. She couldn't believe she kissed him. He was her group's biggest rival and she just kissed him in front of the WWE Universe, cameras, and the entire world. All she wanted to do was hide under her covers in the hotel room and cry.

"Congratulations on your win against Ludwig and Tiffany. Do you have any comments about what happened after the match?"

Before she could answer, Judgment Day appeared before her. She could see a mixture of confusion and anger. Guilt ran through her body. They were going to make Priest pay for this for sure. Wait, she doesn't care about Damian getting his ass kicked. He deserved it.

"Damian kissed me. Wrestling is just an emotional sport, and our feelings sometimes get thrown in the mix. I'm willing to forget all about this and put the past behind me," she answered.

"Uhm, he kissed you? Cause it certainly looked like you kissed him," Cathy pointed out. Much to Y/N's dismay, her group nodded in agreement.

"Just leave me alone," she told her and walked away.

A week passed by, and it was a hell of a week. The comments were brutal. Fans started to blame her if Judgment Day were to fall to their demise. The kiss reignited the feud between Damian and Judgment Day. The worst part came just before RAW went live.

"Are we going to talk about what happened last week?" Damian asked.

"Tiffany has been a thorn in my side, and now she'll shut up for a while. There is nothing to talk about,"

"What about when you kissed me?" He asked.

"Heat of the moment. I got to see my biggest rival lose to me. I would have kissed anyone. Hell, I would have kissed Otis if he was my tag partner,"

Y/N stopped when she saw Otis look at her. He gave her a wink and blew a kiss at her. Damian laughed and looked away.

"Whatever you say, Y/N. I guess the cameras added when you looked excited about it too,"

"It was just a kiss. I'm not a teenage boy," she snapped, yet the wrestler was long gone. She pulled her hair and sighed loudly.

General Manager Adam Pierce was enjoying this moment. He booked several matches for Judgment Day. With their hatred for Damian, he was sure to interrupt his matches and he did so.

Damian intervened with Finn and JD's match while they were defending their tag team titles. JD, the genius that he is, pushed Y/N to Damian to protect himself. The archer of infamy was pressed against her. They stared into each other's eyes before Finn called her name and brought her back to her senses. She pushed him away and went to help them retain their titles. They lost them.

The second match was another tag team match. Carlito and Dom were going against his deadbeat dad and another member of the LWO. Damian started to beat up Dom. Y/N and Carlito tried to stop him.

"Can't you kiss him again or something to get him to stop?" Carlito asked.

"He kissed me," Y/N insisted.

Damian stopped beating up Dom and walked to her. She took a couple of steps back and gulped. "I kissed you? I kissed you? Really? Let's watch the tape again,"

The bell suddenly sounded. Carlito and Dom lost the match since they were counted out. Y/N couldn't believe it. She cost her group another match.

The last match was a Liv versus Rhea. Raquel was at ringside while Y/N was on commentary. The match was going clean until Raquel started to intervene. Damian walked down the ramp. Raquel scurried away, yelling at Y/N to stop her boyfriend.

Y/N stood up from the commentator table. She placed her headset down and walked in front of him. Her hand was placed on his chest to stop him. Damian looked down at her hand and her.

"Leave my friends alone! You made your point. Enough!" She told him.

He smirked and moved towards her. Her hand rose up his sweaty chest to around his neck. Her eyes stared at his annoyingly soft and good kissing lips. "Fine, but only if you tell me you don't think about the kiss or kissing me again,"

Her eyes widened briefly. "Fine, easy, I don't. It was the heat of the moment,"

"My eyes are up here, Y/N,"

She looked at his eyes. "I know that. You are just so freaking tall that I have to strain my neck to see your eyes and God you are punchable as you are kissable!"

She leaned up to kiss him again. Two hands suddenly grabbed the back of her arms. She turned to see Liv and Raquel pulling her away from him. She saw the look of disappointment in his eyes. He wanted this as bad as she did.

"That's disgusting!" Liv screeched. "God! Do we need a water bottle for you, Y/N?"

#fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction #damian priest #damian x reader #damian priest x reader #damian priest x y/n #damian priest x female reader

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 day ago

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first of the year

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'midnight'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated e | 783 words | no cw | tags: established relationship, sexual frustration, frottage, multiple orgasms

🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆

Eddie stares at the ceiling. Blinks. Breathes in. Holds it. Breathes out.

Steve’s fingers curl into a fist against Eddie’s chest as he lets out a soft snore.

It’s the first year he isn’t out partying for New Year’s Eve. Steve asked if he wanted to find a babysitter and go out with him, and he insisted he didn’t. He has no reason to go out now that he has this family and this life.

And he means it. He’s settled. He’s happy.

He’s fucking losing his mind.

It’s 11:54 at night on New Year’s Eve and he’s in bed with the love of his life while their daughter sleeps in her room down the hall and in the morning he’ll wake up and make pancakes while Steve makes coffee and they’ll go skate at the rink that’s basically their second home. It’s 11:54 at night on New Year’s Eve and they let Rory stay up past her bedtime, but she didn’t make it to midnight, so he carried her to bed and kissed her forehead. It’s 11:54 at night on New Year’s Eve and Steve was already asleep by the time he got back to their bed.

He isn’t even getting a midnight kiss from his future husband.

It’s silly to feel even a little upset. He’s got years and years of midnight kisses ahead of him.

Steve’s leg kicks over his own and his thigh rubs against his boxers, tugging them tight against his dick. Eddie barely bites back a moan.

They’ve been so busy with the holidays, having Robin and Chrissy and Wayne over for a couple days, taking Rory to private lessons, preparing for the chaos the new year will bring almost immediately. They haven’t had any intimate time for nearly two weeks.

Oh. That’s why Eddie’s so on edge.

Maybe if he can adjust Steve enough, he can get a hand on his rapidly hardening cock, get himself off so he can fall asleep. If he just…shifts…

“‘S wrong?” Steve mumbles sleepily, raspy voice making Eddie still completely.

He knows better than to fake sleeping. Steve’s already awake, probably already feels his hard length against his thigh.

“Ah,” he says before Eddie can come up with something, anything. “Need me to help you?”

Jesus, yeah. Eddie’s never needed anything more. But he’s pretty sure it’s gonna take one or two tiny movements of Steve’s leg to get him there.

“Won’t need much,” Eddie admits.

Steve sits up and leans on an elbow, looking down at Eddie who’s started sweating at some point in the last minute. Maybe he’s been working himself up longer than he realized.

”Use my leg,” Steve says as he brings it up an inch, presses down for a second to show that it’s in the perfect spot. “Were you gonna get off while I slept?”

Eddie shakes his head, whimpers as he ruts up against Steve’s thigh. He’s leaking. It would be embarrassing if anything they ever did together could be embarrassing.

“You weren’t gonna try to sneak your hand in your boxers?” Steve tights his muscle, smirks when Eddie ruts faster. “Is this better?”

“Mhm, so much better,” Eddie gasps as he feels his stomach tighten. “Fuck, like that.”

“You’re doing all the work, baby. I’m just watchin’.”

That sends Eddie right over the edge. He almost can’t believe how good it feels, something this simple. Something where he is doing all the work.

“Fuck,” he says again, trembling through it, feeling too warm, but shivering under Steve’s gaze. “I needed that.”

“I know.” Steve leans down to kiss his lips, softer than he expects. “Sorry we haven’t had time. I feel like I’ve been neglecting you.”

“No, it’s-” he’s cut off by the sound of fireworks going off outside, and he remembers that they aren’t too far from where the city’s midnight show is. “Is that gonna wake Rory up?”

“Nah. She’s used to the city noises,” Steve’s hand drifts down to Eddie’s waistband, grimacing at how wet it is. “Probably should get cleaned up.”

“Or…” Eddie grabs Steve’s wrist, squeezes. “We could make more of a mess first.”

Steve huffs a laugh as he lets his head fall to Eddie’s chest for a moment.

“Happy New Year, baby.”

“Is that a yes?” Eddie asks.

“It’s always a yes,” Steve kisses his chest and lifts his head up. “Get these off.”

“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” Eddie says as he strips off his boxers.

The sound of the fireworks drowns out some of their moans, but Steve’s gentle ‘I love you’ is still loud enough to echo in Eddie’s head as he comes for the second time that night.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie holiday drabbles #steddie events #steve harrington x eddie munson #bear hugs universe #midnight

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basset-babe · 2 days ago

Text

five times: the fourth.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: emotinal distress, tears, vulnerability

word count: 6.1k+

a/n: can't believe i'm writing this to a t. swift song lol let's just say miss y/n is in her lover girl era (as she always has been duh!) apologies for the loooong delay, here is the fourth! enjoy! ciao raga!

five times series: the first. the one point five. the second. the third. the three point five. the fourth. at last.

pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

the fourth.

A gentle knock echoed at the door as Grandmama stood at the threshold of my study. "I shall be with you shortly, Your Grace. I merely need to finalize these accounts for our subjects," I replied softly my nose buried deep in papers, my voice perhaps subdued as I tallied the month's expenses.

"Y/N dear, I am merely here to check on your well-being," she remarked, gracefully lowering herself onto the velvet chair by my desk. The soft rustle of her gown accompanied the taps of her cane with her movement. "This laborious work should be left to our stewards. The task of accounting is their duty, after all. I have compensated them generously, for I can no longer endure the perplexity of these numbers," she continued waving her hand, and her tone a blend of authority and genteel exasperation. The flickering candles' light cast a warm glow across the room, highlighting the rich wood paneling and the intricate embroidery of her attire.

I chuckled softly at her remark and looked up from my work. "I understand, Grandmama. While we do employ capable estate managers, surely it is prudent to review our accounts ourselves from time to time," I responded, but gave her a quizzical look as she is dressed for the night. "But I see you are dressed quite elegantly. Is there an occasion I am unaware of? Am I amiss of something?"

Grandmama's eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief as she responded. "Ah, my dear, have you forgotten? The Bridgerton Masquerade Ball is tonight. I rather suspected you might need a reminder," she said, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she adjusted the folds of her gown. "It appears you have been quite forgetful of late, given how much you’ve been gallivanting about recently."

I scoffed as I placed my quill down. "Me? Gallivanting? Whatever gives you the idea that I have been gallivanting, Your Grace?"

"You may be the season's paragon, Y/N, but you are my blood, and I know you well," Grandmama replied, rising with a regal air, her cane tapping the wooden floor of the study with a soft but firm rhythm. "And you are under my roof. Best to remember that nothing escapes my notice in my own home."

I felt a flush of embarrassment rise to my cheeks. Her knowing gaze left me momentarily speechless as she stood to close the door.

"Dear, you may not consider me one to meddle or delve into the ton’s gossip sheet—Whistledone or whatever it is called, I do not pay mind—I am quite aware of the mention it made of you and your suitor, Mr. Bridgerton, on the past week." she said tinged with concern. She sat on the nearest couch and motioned I join her by sitting beside. "Amazingly, it has blown over. You know how the ton moves from one gossip to another but I couldn't not help but wonder how you are doing."

"Grandmama, how did you really know?" I moved towards her, the weight of last week's events pressing heavily upon me. Her calm demeanor offered a comforting invitation to discuss what I wished to forget but could not.

"Ah, Deborah told me. Our servants talk, you know."

"This is all part of the courting, isn't it? The season is not yet concluded, yet none of the other suitors compare to the connection I feel with Benedict, Grandmama." Some steamy connection by ivy tendrils we have then, I thought.

Her Grace regarded me with a gentle but concerned expression, her voice carrying the weight of years of experience and care. "My dear, courtship is a wondrous journey filled with emotions that can sweep one off their feet. Your connection with Benedict is undoubtedly special, and I can see the joy it brings you." She paused, a hint of sadness touching her eyes. "But remember, my darling, our world can be both beautiful and unforgiving. While love is a treasure, marriage brings not only joy but also stability and the assurance of a secure future."

Her hand gently rested on mine, a gesture of comfort and guidance. "The ton's expectations and the passing of time are relentless. I hope you find someone who cherishes you and our family's legacy as much as Benedict seems to do. Your happiness and our honor depend on it. Unfortunately, we both are all but women."

"Grandmama," I began, my voice almost amiss on what to say, "I know the importance of our family’s legacy, and I am grateful for your guidance. But I can't ignore the small voice within me that longs for something more than just duty."

"Benedict is… admirable, and perhaps he does see you for who you are," Grandmama says softly, her gaze piercing as ever. "But I wonder—can he truly grasp the dreams that live inside you, the ones that defy the walls society builds around us? Or would those dreams wither in a life governed solely by duty and honor?"

With that, she turns toward the door, her graceful movements echoing her own years of mastering the role she now urges me to consider. I watch her, words slipping from my grasp, feeling almost foolish as I stand there in silence. I know her intentions are good; she has always devoted herself to guiding me, preparing me to inherit our family legacy. After all, she is my Grandmama, a Viscountess—and a formidable one at that.

Pausing briefly at the doorway, she casts me one last knowing glance. "Well, then," she says, her voice light yet layered with meaning, "do make haste if you intend to be charmed by any particular prince at tonight’s ball. I daresay the heir to your heart might be waiting… if only you’re brave enough to seize him."

And with that, she sweeps out, leaving me alone with the delicate ache of her words—an ache that lingers as I consider just what I desire beyond the expectations of our world. Her departure stirs something restless within me, a longing that stretches beyond gilded halls and fine silk gowns, reaching for something I cannot quite name.

But I do know this: tonight, at the masquerade ball, I owe a certain prince charming at least one dance, or all the dances of the night.

The carriage rattled gently as it wound its way through the cobblestone streets, its lanterns casting flickering shadows on the elegant facades of London’s finest houses. I leaned back against the plush seat, my gloved hands clutching the sapphire-encrusted mask Grandmama had insisted I wear. Her words lingered in my mind, an intricate web of wisdom and caution.

Was she right? Could Benedict truly grasp the essence of my dreams, the ones that extended far beyond the season’s fleeting amusements and whispered promises?

The thought clung to me like ivy as the carriage slowed, its wheels crunching softly over the gravel of the Bridgerton estate. From the windows, I could see the golden glow spilling from the ballroom’s tall windows, accompanied by the faint strains of music.

“You’ve arrived, milady,” the footman announced as he opened the door. I smoothed the folds of my gown, its deep sapphire fabric shimmering like a calm sea under moonlight, and took his offered hand to step down.

The scene was dazzling, even from the courtyard. Carriages lined the drive, and figures adorned in silks and masks ascended the grand staircase in pairs and clusters. Laughter mingled with anticipation in the crisp night air, and my heartbeat quickened.

I adjusted my mask as I reached the top of the steps, the intricate design both concealing and amplifying my identity. Tonight, I could be someone else, if only for a moment. Someone bold, someone unencumbered by the weight of my family’s legacy.

The footman at the entrance nodded, his white-gloved hand pulling open the door to reveal a world of light and color. The ballroom was alive with movement, the guests spinning like constellations against a backdrop of gilded grandeur. Chandelier crystals glittered like stars, and the scent of roses and honeyed wine lingered in the air.

I stepped inside, my entrance drawing a few curious glances that quickly melted into polite nods. My late arrival had not gone unnoticed, but the anonymity of the masquerade granted me a somewhat reprieve.

Across the room, I spotted Grandmama near the far wall, her crimson gown a beacon amidst the swirling crowd. Her discerning gaze met mine for a brief moment, and though she did not approach, her slight nod spoke volumes. It was a moonlit night, and the crisp air of London's season hummed with anticipation. The Bridgerton estate had outdone itself, hosting a grand masquerade ball to celebrate the close of yet another bustling social season. The manor glared with golden light, spilling from tall windows, and masked guests moved like wraiths of silk and jewels across the polished floors. The air buzzed with murmurs and laughter, and the melodic strains of a string quartet.

As I descended the marble steps into the heart of the ballroom, a hush seemed to ripple through the crowd. It was subtle, a shift in the air that only those attuned to the nuances of the ton would notice. The Season’s Paragon, as they so often called me, had arrived.

I felt the weight of their gazes—curious, admiring, envious—all fixed upon me. The soft rustle of my gown against the polished floor was the only sound I registered amidst the symphony of murmurs and the faint strains of the orchestra. The sapphire hue of my dress, paired with the glittering mask, seemed to catch the light in just the right way, casting a glow that matched the chandeliers above.

Whispers followed me like shadows.

"Is that Lady Y/N?"

"She always knows how to make an entrance, doesn’t she?"

"Late, but worth the wait," another murmured, their voice tinged with awe.

I held my head high, my mask granting me the confidence to ignore the flutter of nerves in my chest. Tonight, I was not just the dutiful granddaughter or the heiress to a noble title—I was a mystery, a dream wrapped in silk and jewels.

At the base of the stairs, a figure stepped forward. His tall frame was unmistakable, his presence commanding despite the anonymity of his own mask. Benedict Bridgerton. His gaze locked onto mine, and I swore the air between us grew warmer, charged with an electricity neither of us could deny.

"Lady Y/N," he greeted, his voice a low timbre that sent a shiver down my spine. He bowed slightly, the movement elegant and deliberate. "Fashionably late, as always. You have the uncanny ability to steal the room’s attention, even when you try not to."

"And yet, Mr. Bridgerton, I find myself wondering if you waited just long enough to see it," I replied, a playful lilt to my tone.

His lips curved into a smile, one that reached his eyes. "You wound me, my lady. Would you deny me the pleasure of the first dance after such a dramatic entrance?"

The orchestra struck up a waltz, the perfect cue for his outstretched hand. I hesitated for only a moment before placing my gloved hand in his. His grip was firm yet gentle, and as he led me to the center of the floor, the crowd parted like waves for us, their murmurs fading into the background.

The music swelled, and we began to move. Benedict’s hand rested lightly at my waist, guiding me effortlessly through the steps. The world around us blurred, the other dancers mere apparitions as our movements synchronized in perfect harmony.

"You’ve been avoiding me," he said softly, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

"I’ve been busy," I replied, though the words sounded hollow even to my own ears.

"Busy," Benedict repeated, a bitter edge creeping into his tone, though his lips curved into a faint, rueful smile. "I suppose that’s one way to phrase it. But tell me, Lady Y/N, is it the kind of busy that fills your day… or the kind that keeps your heart at bay?"

His words hung in the air between us, the waltz carrying us effortlessly across the floor. His hand on my waist tightened just enough for me to notice, a silent plea he couldn’t quite mask.

"You presume too much," I replied, keeping my voice light and measured, though I refused to meet his gaze directly. The truth there—his yearning, his ache—was too much, and I dared not confront it here, under the eyes of the entire ton.

"You think me a fool," he murmured, his breath warm against my cheek as he leaned in closer under the guise of guiding our dance. "But I see it in your eyes, Lady Y/N. You feel it too. What we shared that night—after the party—it wasn’t fleeting. It wasn’t nothing."

The memory of that night rushed back unbidden: the laughter and daring beneath ivy-covered arches, the sharp taste of wine and sweeter whispers in the shadows, his hand brushing mine in a way that left my skin alight with a thrill I hadn’t felt before—or since.

"And what would you have me do, Mr. Bridgerton?" I asked, my voice laced with feigned indifference. "Shout my secrets to the rafters? Proclaim to all that I—," I caught myself, pulling back from the edge of an admission I wasn’t ready to make. Instead, I tilted my head, my lips curving into a soft, disarming smile. "You misunderstand me, sir. Whatever you think you know of me… you do not."

He faltered for a beat, his step out of sync with the music, but quickly recovered. His jaw clenched, and I felt his frustration simmering beneath his otherwise composed exterior.

"You’re wrong," he said after a moment, his voice strained with an emotion I could not name. "I know you better than you think. Better, perhaps, than you know yourself."

The final strains of the waltz swelled, and with it, the tension between us reached its breaking point. As the applause of the crowd erupted, I curtsied, the movement graceful and deliberate, before he could press me further.

"Thank you for the dance, Mr. Bridgerton," I said, my tone polite but distant, an unspoken barrier erected between us.

"Lady Y/N, wait," he said, reaching out as if to stop me, his voice now raw and almost pleading. "There’s something I must ask you—something I’ve carried since that night…"

But I didn’t give him the chance. "Another time, perhaps," I interjected smoothly, retreating a step with a faint smile. "I find I am in need of some air."

Before he could protest, I turned on my heel and glided toward the terrace doors, the cool promise of the garden beckoning me away from his questions, his gaze, his unrelenting presence.

The night air was crisp against my skin as I stepped into the garden, the distant murmur of the ballroom fading into a hushed symphony of rustling leaves and the gentle trickle of a fountain. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my gloved hands gripping the stone balustrade as I gazed into the moonlit expanse.

The wisterias surrounded me like cascading waves of lavender, their delicate blooms swaying in the cool breeze. I sank onto the bench at the center of the hedge maze, my chest tightening with each unsteady breath. My gloves, damp from the heat of my frustration, slipped from my fingers onto the ground. I didn’t bother picking them up. Instead, I reached for my mask, undoing its clasp with trembling hands, and set it beside me as tears finally spilled over.

I tried to steady myself, inhaling deeply and exhaling shakily, but the ache inside me only seemed to grow stronger. My thoughts swirled, tangled like the vines above me. I couldn’t ignore the pull Benedict had on me any longer, no matter how hard I had tried. It was maddening. Every time I pushed him away, every time I told myself I could avoid him, the universe conspired to prove me wrong.

My heart felt like it might burst from my chest, the weight of it all pressing down on me. How could he stir something in me that I didn’t even understand? It wasn’t fair.

“Y/N.”

I froze, my name a soft plea carried on the night air.

I looked up, startled. Through blurry eyes, I saw him standing there, framed by the moonlight and the wisterias. His expression twisted something deep inside me—concern, longing, and something I couldn’t quite place.

Before I could gather my words, he was in front of me. He knelt down, his hands reaching for mine, but then he did something that undid me completely—he pulled me into his arms.

His warmth enveloped me, and the tears I had fought so hard to control came pouring out. My sobs shook me, muffled against his shoulder, and his arms only tightened around me as if to shield me from the world.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice gentle, yet filled with a quiet strength that seemed to wrap around me like a comforting embrace. “I’m here with you, and I won’t leave you, I promise.”

I clung to him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his coat. For a moment, I allowed myself to rest in his embrace, to feel the steadiness of his heartbeat against mine. But the storm inside me refused to quiet.

I pulled back slightly, enough to look at him. “Could you truly grasp the essence of my dreams, Benedict?” My voice trembled as I spoke. “The ones that extend far beyond the season’s fleeting amusements and whispered promises?”

His brows furrowed, and he looked at me with a tenderness that made my breath hitch. “Tell me,” he said softly. “Let me understand.”

I hesitated, searching his face for any sign of ridicule or dismissal, but all I found was a quiet intensity. Taking a shuddering breath, I let the words spill out.

“I can’t live a life bound by society’s expectations,” I admitted. “I don’t want to be confined to the role of a dutiful wife, expected only to bear heirs and keep a perfect household. That can’t be all there is for me. I need more, Benedict. I want more. I want to be more.”

Tears welled in my eyes again, and I turned my head away, ashamed of the vulnerability I’d just laid bare. “I don’t know if you could ever understand that,” I whispered.

To my surprise, he gently cupped my face, his touch warm and steady as he turned me back to him. His thumb brushed away a tear, and he leaned closer, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my heart stutter.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and sure, “I would never ask you to give up your dreams. Whatever it is you desire, whatever you want to become, I want to be the one who stands beside you, not the one who holds you back.”

I stared at him, his words sinking into the cracks of my guarded heart.

“You are so much more than what society expects,” he continued. “And if that means defying every rule to let the world see you for who you truly are, then I’ll defy them with you. Every step of the way.”

A soft sob escaped me, this one born of something other than despair. I reached up, my hand resting against his cheek, feeling the warmth of him under my touch. “Benedict…” I whispered, my voice breaking.

“I mean it,” he said, leaning into my hand. “Whatever it takes. You’re not alone in this.”

His words hung in the air like a charged current, his eyes never leaving mine as I absorbed the weight of what he was offering. The moonlight bathed him in a soft glow, making him look almost ethereal—yet it was his sincerity that struck me with full force.

“Marry me,” Benedict’s voice was quiet but filled with an urgency that left me breathless. He cupped my face more firmly, his touch tender yet desperate, as if the words had been long buried in his heart, waiting for the right moment.

I blinked, unable to process what I had just heard. "Marry you?" My voice was a whisper, torn between disbelief and an ache I hadn’t known how to name until now.

He nodded, his expression unwavering. “Yes. Marry me, Y/N.”

I took a shaky breath, my chest tightening. "But... Benedict, you don't understand. I—"

He interrupted, his gaze deepening, searching mine for the truth behind my hesitation. "I do understand. More than you think. You are not just a duty, or a responsibility, or a future mother of heirs. You're more than that, and I will show you a life beyond the confines of this society. A life where we are not defined by titles or traditions but by the love we choose to share."

I looked at him, still stunned by his words, his declaration. How could he, the second son of the Bridgerton family, one of the most influential houses in London, be asking me to step away from all that? I was nothing more than a girl with dreams too vast for the world to contain. I couldn't fathom a future where I wasn't bound by duty—duty to my family, to society, to expectations.

“You—You’re not the perfect cut of the ton either,” I whispered, my voice trembling with confusion. “Why would you choose this life? To be tied to someone like me, someone who defies the very order of things?”

Benedict’s lips curled into a small, understanding smile. “Because I’m not perfect,” he said, his voice full of warmth and certainty. “And neither are you, Y/N. But I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I love you, truly. Not because you fit some mold or role society has set for you. I love you for the woman you are—brave, passionate, and unapologetically yourself. More than duty, more than heirs, more than any expectation of this world.”

I stood frozen, my heart thundering in my chest. Could I believe him? Could I step into a world that was not constrained by the suffocating rules of society? A world where Benedict was willing to offer me his love—freely, unconditionally?

He reached out and gently took my hand in his, his thumb tracing over the delicate skin of my wrist as he looked into my eyes, unwavering. “Y/N, marry me. And let me show you a life where we are free to live as we choose. A life where you are more than just a dutiful wife. You are the woman I love. The woman I will fight for.”

Tears welled up in my eyes again, but this time, they were different. They weren’t born of fear or confusion, but of hope, of a possibility I had never dared to imagine. Could I really leave behind everything I had known, everything I had been taught to accept, and walk beside him into a future of our own making?

“Benedict…” I whispered again, my voice trembling with something deeper now—emotion, desire, and the pull of a future that seemed too perfect to be true.

His fingers gently cupped my chin, bringing me closer to him as his lips hovered just above mine. "Marry me, Y/N. I promise you, it will be a life beyond your wildest dreams. A life we build together, without the restrictions of duty, of society’s gaze. I will give you everything I have."

I looked up at him, my heart in my throat. Could I take this leap? Could I trust him with my dreams, with my heart?

For the first time in my life, I felt the weight of all the impossible choices fade, replaced by the pull of a love that felt like freedom.

“Yes,” I whispered, the word slipping from my lips like a prayer. “Yes, I will marry you.”

The moment the words left my mouth, he smiled, his face lighting up with a joy that mirrored my own. He leaned in, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that was soft, yet full of promises too vast for words. In that kiss, I felt everything—the weight of the world lifting, the chains of expectation falling away, and the undeniable truth that no matter what the future held, we would face it together, free.

Benedict pulled away slightly, his smile softening as he looked down at me. His thumb brushed against my cheek, wiping away the last of the tears that had slipped from my eyes, leaving a gentle warmth in its wake. I felt as if I had just woken from some long, foggy dream, but his presence anchored me firmly in reality.

“You know,” he said, his voice teasing but still filled with that underlying warmth, “as much as I would love to stay here with you, I’m afraid someone might notice we’ve been gone a little too long.”

I blinked, the seriousness of the moment dissipating like fog in the morning sun. “Oh, goodness. You’re right,” I replied, suddenly feeling aware of the late hour, the whispered chatter inside the ballroom that I knew must be continuing without us. A small laugh escaped my lips, light and almost a bit incredulous. “What would they think of us? Disappearing into the maze in the middle of the night?”

Benedict grinned, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and affection. “They’d think we were off having some forbidden tryst, of course.” He winked. “And I’m sure some of the older chaperones would have a lot to say about that.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound of it carrying through the night air, easing away the tension that had lingered in my chest. The weight of everything—of dreams, of responsibilities—seemed lighter now, like a distant memory. Benedict had a way of grounding me, of bringing me back to the moment, and this was one of those rare moments when the chaos of the world outside felt far removed from us.

“Well, we certainly wouldn’t want to give anyone any ideas,” I said, my lips curving into a playful smile.

Benedict's eyes softened again, his hand brushing against mine. “Of course not,” he said with mock seriousness. “But, truly, before anyone thinks we’ve become completely lost in here, I think it’s time to rejoin the festivities.” He looked around, almost as though the garden itself was a labyrinth of endless possibility, and then returned his gaze to me, his voice low and full of affection. “Though, I’d much rather stay here with you. But duty calls, doesn’t it?”

“Always,” I replied with a mock sigh, suddenly feeling a little lighter. His easy way of handling everything, his ability to turn the most serious of moments into something that didn’t feel so heavy, was something I found myself increasingly drawn to.

He took my hand, guiding me gently to my feet. “Come now, before someone notices we’ve been gone for too long. Let’s slip back inside before anyone becomes too suspicious.”

I nodded, allowing him to pull me along as we made our way out of the maze, the soft scent of wisteria still lingering in the cool night air. As we neared the garden’s edge, the lights from the ballroom grew brighter, and the sounds of laughter and music filled the air once again.

We paused for a moment, standing just beyond the hedge, our hands still intertwined. Benedict turned to me, his smile warm and full of promise.

“You know, the moment we step back in there, I’ll have to return to being that dashing, perfect gentleman everyone expects me to be,” he said, his voice light and teasing. “But right now, in this moment, it’s just us. And that’s all that matters.”

I chuckled softly, squeezing his hand. “Let’s keep it our little secret, shall we? The world inside can wait.”

“Agreed,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Now, let’s go before your Grandmama sends someone to find you. I believe she has a particular fondness for making sure you never miss the next waltz.”

I laughed again, a full, genuine sound that felt like music in my own chest. “You know, I think you may be right,” I said. “Let’s not give her any reason to worry about her wayward granddaughter.”

Together, we emerged from the maze, our laughter still echoing softly through the night, as the path ahead opened up into the grand, glittering ballroom. For a moment, it felt as though the world had paused—just for us.

But as we entered the ballroom, the illusion of time caught up with us, and with a final, lingering glance, Benedict let go of my hand, the flickering lights and polished floors once again drawing us back into the well-practiced dance of the ton.

Yet, something had changed. A shift, subtle yet undeniable. For the first time in a long while, I felt as though the masks we wore were no longer just a way to hide our true selves, but perhaps the first step toward revealing something far more real, far more powerful than any of us had known before.

The ballroom was in full swing, the grand chandeliers casting a warm glow over the guests as the music swelled and twirled, just like the dancers on the floor. The air was thick with conversation and laughter, the weight of the evening’s festivities almost palpable. My Grandmama was engaged in lively conversation with the Dowager Viscountess, Lady Violet Bridgerton, as we stood near the drinks table, offering polite nods and smiles to various acquaintances who came and went.

“Lady Y/N, my dear,” Grandmama’s voice broke through the chatter, drawing my attention. “The last dance of the season is fast approaching. You simply must accept a few more dances tonight to close out the evening, and, of course, the season.”

I stifled a sigh, but I knew better than to argue. It was tradition, after all. And though I wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of dancing with every eligible bachelor in the room, I knew it was expected. I gave Grandmama a reassuring smile, nodding in agreement.

“Of course, Grandmama,” I replied, my voice a touch too bright, as though I hadn’t just spent the evening contemplating everything that had transpired between me and Benedict in the hedge maze. “I’ll be sure to take part in the dances. It wouldn’t do to disappoint anyone, would it?”

She chuckled softly, her sharp gaze sweeping over the ballroom as if already measuring the gentlemen who would soon approach. “Good girl. You’re much too proper for your own good, but I do hope you’ll choose a dance partner wisely.” Her eyes flickered briefly over the room, as if weighing her options.

I, however, had already begun to scan my own dance card in my hand, taking it out and glancing at the names already written across the night’s list. As I scanned the page, I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, my heart fluttering slightly at the sight.

Benedict. Benedict. Benedict. His name was written on every single line. My gaze lingered on the flowing script, feeling an odd sense of warmth bubble up in my chest. It was both absurd and endearing that he had taken the liberty of filling out my entire card. A few quiet chuckles escaped me as I lifted my gaze to meet his across the ballroom.

As if on cue, Benedict’s eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, the entire room seemed to fade away. The crowded dance floor, the lively chatter, the twinkling lights—all of it dissolved, leaving just the two of us locked in a gaze that spoke volumes without a single word being exchanged.

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes, before nodding to me in acknowledgment. I could feel my pulse quicken, and for a moment, the absurdity of the situation—a card entirely filled with his name—seemed to wrap itself around me like a cocoon, softening the edges of everything else.

After a moment, Benedict began to make his way across the room, cutting through the sea of people with an easy confidence that somehow drew every eye. I couldn’t help but smile softly to myself as I watched him approach, his stride purposeful yet somehow still casual.

The ladies, including Grandmama and the Dowager Viscountess, watched him with a certain knowing air, no doubt having seen many a flirtation and polite request for a dance in their time. I could sense their amusement, though they said nothing aloud.

When Benedict reached us, he stopped just in front of me, his eyes flickering down to my dance card before meeting my gaze once more.

“I do believe I’ve taken the liberty of filling in every line of your card for the evening, my lady,” he said, his voice soft but teasing, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was rather hoping you might allow me the honor of the last dance of the night.”

I raised an eyebrow, the corner of my mouth twitching into a smile. “You seem to have been rather ambitious in your choices, Mr. Bridgerton,” I replied, my voice light, though I felt my heart flutter at the prospect of a final dance with him. “But I suppose it’s only fitting, isn’t it? You’ve already danced your way across my card without even asking.”

Benedict laughed softly, a rich sound that filled the space between us. “Well, I couldn’t very well leave it to chance, could I?” he said, his grin widening as he glanced at the amused looks of the other ladies in the group. “So, will you grant me the last dance of the night, Lady Y/N?”

My gaze flickered down to my card again, then back to him. There was no escaping it now, not that I wanted to. His presence, his warmth, had become an undeniable part of the evening, as though fate itself had decided we belonged in each other’s orbit for just a little longer.

With a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, I gave in. “I suppose it’s already been decided,” I said with a teasing smile. “You may have the last dance, Mr. Bridgerton.”

His smile widened at my acceptance, and without missing a beat, he offered me his arm. “Then, it’s a promise.”

I accepted his arm, the weight of the evening and all its emotions fading away in that simple gesture. The music swelled again, the air light and filled with promise. The moment I had been dreading—the end of the season—suddenly didn’t seem so dreadful after all.

The last dance of the night arrived with a soft swell of music, the orchestra’s strings and woodwinds weaving a melody that seemed to capture the very spirit of the evening. Benedict’s hand found mine, steady and warm, as he led me onto the floor, the crowd parting just enough to allow us a space among the final few dancers.

The soft glow of the chandelier above bathed us in golden light, the flickering shadows from the flames reflecting in his eyes. Our steps were fluid, effortless, as though we had danced this same dance a hundred times before, though it was only the second time our bodies had moved together like this. Benedict’s hand rested at the small of my back, his touch gentle but certain, guiding me with a confidence that made me feel as though the world outside the ballroom no longer existed.

I could feel the subtle sway of his movements, the rhythm of his heart beating in time with mine. He didn’t speak, not yet, but there was a quiet understanding between us, a connection that seemed to transcend the formality of the dance and go deeper—into something more personal, more fragile, than anything I had ever known.

As we glided across the floor, I found my breath in rhythm with his, each step carrying me further into the moment, away from the expectations of society, away from the responsibilities of my family, away from the constraints I had long believed I must carry. The dance had become a metaphor for everything I had feared and hoped for—freedom and belonging, duty and desire, all wrapped into a single movement, a single step.

For the briefest moment, I forgot about the future, about the weight of family legacy and expectations. I forgot about the mask I had worn all evening, the one I had placed so carefully on my face. In his presence, there was no need for pretense. It was just him and me, two souls caught in the fleeting moment of something pure.

And yet, even as we danced, my heart fluttered with the memory of the words Benedict had spoken not long before, his proposal hanging between us like an unspoken vow. “Marry me,” he had said, his voice steady but full of emotion. And I, without hesitation, had said yes. It wasn’t a decision made out of duty, but out of something deeper, something undeniable that had been growing between us since that first secret meeting at the party. I knew then that I didn’t just want him—I needed him, just as he seemed to need me.

As the final notes of the music echoed through the room, Benedict pulled me closer, his arms strong and secure around me. We finished the dance with a slow, graceful spin, our eyes locking in a silent promise. The crowd clapped, but the applause felt distant, almost irrelevant. All that mattered in that moment was the quiet between us, the shared understanding, the knowledge that the season had come to an end, but perhaps, this was only the beginning of something far more significant.

When the music stopped, Benedict didn’t immediately release me. Instead, he held me for just a moment longer, his face a mix of affection and determination.

"Until next time," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.

I nodded, my heart racing, but my smile soft, certain. "Until next time."

As the crowd resumed its chatter and the last notes of the orchestra faded, we walked together off the dance floor, our steps in sync, neither of us yet ready to face what lay ahead—but knowing, with the smallest flicker of hope, that whatever the future held, we would meet it side by side.

And so, the evening closed, the final dance of the season over, but the possibilities of what came next lingering in the air like a soft, sweet promise.

taglist: @novausstuff // @pussyslayerhd // @amoosarte // @jupitervenusearthmars // @shonteriasunshine // @melsunshine // @bollzinurmouth // @kneelforloki // @reiluvr // @eddiiiieeee // @wishyoudaskme // @caspianobsessed

again, please do send me a message or comment down if you would like to be added on the succeeding taglists for the five times series! thanks loves <3!

#benedict bridgerton x you #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #x reader #fem reader #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton/reader #fic #bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton oneshot #fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x y/n

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zylokv · 3 days ago

Text

FLASH FROM THE PAST — myoui mina

❝ you're my spouse on paper, however you're not my responsibility.❞

synopsis — a new page in mina's book.

word count ! — 4.6k

— myoui mina x reader !

notice — heavily inspired by @neoplatinum and a bit of queen of tears.

disclaimer ! — this story is a work of fiction. the portrayal of characters, events, and relationships does not reflect the real lives or personalities of any individuals mentioned. themes of infidelity and emotional conflict are explored, but the intention is not to glamorize toxic behavior.

series masterlist !

part three !

the office clock ticks in the background, the steady rhythm drowned out by your pounding heartbeat. you're supposed to be focused—drafting reports, sorting case files—but all you can think about is her. myoui mina. your wife, your undoing.

it's ridiculous how she’s consumed you lately. taking breaks isn’t something you’d normally do, but now they’re essential. you’re slipping out of your office chair, phone in hand, scrolling through photos of her like a lovesick fool. the shot from last week—the one where she’s in a flowy sundress, laughing at something momo said—has you biting the inside of your cheek.

and then there’s the voice message. you play it for the fifth time, mina’s soft giggle filling the space, followed by her saying, “don’t forget to come home early, okay? i’m making dinner… wear the shirt i like.” a mundane request, but the way she says it? you’re practically out the door already.

when you do make it back home, you’re greeted by the sight of mina curled up on the couch, a ridiculously oversized sweater hanging off one shoulder. her hair’s still damp from a shower, framing her bare face in a way that makes your chest tighten. she looks up, spots you, and smiles like you’ve just made her whole day.

“you’re home early,” she says, teasing but pleased.

“couldn’t stay away,” you reply honestly, setting your bag down.

the warmth of the moment lingers, but as the night progresses, a familiar chatter fills the living room. momo has stopped by, lounging in a chair with her legs tucked under her, while sana sits cross-legged on the floor with a glass of wine.

“so,” momo starts, leaning forward with a sly grin. “when are you two finally giving us an heir?”

mina rolls her eyes but doesn’t hide the faint smile tugging at her lips. “you’re too nosy for your own good.”

“i’m just saying!” momo defends herself, laughing. “it’s been how long now? the world is waiting.”

you chuckle lightly, keeping your focus on the drink in your hand. sana, however, remains silent, swirling her wine. her gaze occasionally flickers to you, sharp and calculating.

“and what about you?” momo turns her attention to you. “don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

you clear your throat, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes. “it’s… a discussion for another time.”

“boring,” momo groans dramatically.

“or maybe they’re just not ready,” sana interjects suddenly, her tone laced with something biting. “not everyone is cut out for responsibilities like that.”

her words are a sharp jab, and you glance at her, meeting her challenging gaze. “and what exactly are you implying, sana?”

she tilts her head, feigning innocence. “nothing. just an observation.”

mina notices the tension and places a calming hand on your arm. “don’t mind her. she’s been like this all day.”

you sigh, deciding not to take the bait. but before the conversation can shift, sana speaks again. “besides, it’s not like they don’t have other ways to… distract themselves,” she adds with a smirk.

your jaw tightens, and for a moment, you consider snapping back, but you catch the look in mina’s eyes—a quiet plea to let it go. instead, you stand, excusing yourself to refill your drink.

later, as the evening winds down and momo and sana leave, you settle into bed with your laptop perched on your lap and a glass of wine on the nightstand. mina joins you, crawling across the mattress with her sweater slipping to reveal more of her shoulder.

“working again?” she pouts, resting her chin on your shoulder.

“don't worry i'll take a leave soon” you reply, though your focus is more on her than the screen.

“you’re so boring sometimes,” she teases, tugging your laptop away and placing it on the nightstand.

“mina,” you protest weakly, but she’s already climbing into your lap, her mischievous smile impossible to resist.

“you should take more breaks,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck. “you’re always so tense…”

her lips trail along your jawline, and her hands find your shoulders, kneading the tension away. you let out a soft sigh, your head tilting slightly to allow her more access.

“you’re impossible,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around her.

“and yet, you’re addicted to me,” she whispers, a playful glint in her eye.

-----

the cafe is unusually quiet for a weekday, a soft hum of conversations and clinking cups filling the air. you're here on an errand, grabbing coffee for mina during her photoshoot break. a barista calls your name, and you step forward to collect the tray of drinks, careful not to spill anything.

as you turn to leave, the sharp click of heels catches your attention a split second too late. someone collides into you, and one of the coffee cups wobbles precariously before you manage to stabilize it.

“watch it!” a voice snaps, cutting through the ambient chatter.

you look up and immediately recognize the woman glaring at you. minatozaki sana. she’s clad head-to-toe in prada, her fitted top and heels giving her an air of effortless elegance. but her expression is far from pleasant.

“my apologies,” you say evenly, keeping your tone polite. “i didn’t see you.”

she scoffs, brushing off invisible dust from her shoulders. “of course you didn’t. typical.”

your patience wavers, but you bite back the urge to retort. instead, you offer a tight smile. “it was an accident. no need to be rude.”

“you’ve got some nerve,” she mutters, adjusting herself. “mina really married... you?” she adds, her tone dripping with disdain.

your grip on the coffee tray tightens. “is there a problem with that?” you ask, your voice calm but edged.

“just surprised, that’s all,” she says with a smirk, folding her arms. “i mean, look at you.”

you take a deep breath, deciding against escalating the tension. “well, it’s a good thing mina’s opinion matters more than yours.”

her eyes narrow, and she opens her mouth to retort, but in her haste to take a step back, her heel catches on the edge of the rug. she stumbles, landing ungracefully on the floor.

“are you okay?” you ask instinctively, setting the tray on a nearby table and reaching out to help her up.

“don’t touch me,” she snaps, brushing my hands off as she stands, but there’s a flicker of embarrassment in her eyes.

despite her attitude, you shrug off your coat, offering it to her. “here. in case you need it.”

her expression shifts. her eyes linger on the coat, her earlier hostility giving way to something else entirely—a strange, almost haunted look. “where... where did you get this?” she asks, her voice softer now, nearly hesitant.

“what?” you blink, confused by the sudden change in demeanor.

“the coat,” she repeats, her fingers brushing the fabric lightly, as if it holds some unspoken significance. “where did you get it?”

you hesitate, caught off guard. “it was a gift. why?”

she doesn’t answer, her gaze distant as if she’s lost in thought.

you sigh, pulling the coat back over your arm. “look, if you’re done being rude, I have somewhere to be.”

her lips part as if to say something, but she stops herself, her usual sharpness dulled. you shake your head, deciding you’ve had enough of the strange encounter. without another word, you pick up the coffee tray and walk away, leaving her standing there, silent and still.

----- the soft glow of the tv screen illuminates the living room as you lounge on the couch, legs stretched out, a half-empty glass of wine on the coffee table. it’s one of those rare evenings where work doesn’t loom over you, and for once, you’re completely at ease. some action movie plays in the background, but you’re only half paying attention.

mina’s footsteps pad softly into the room, and you glance over to see her standing in the doorway. she’s wearing one of your oversized sweaters, her hair slightly messy, and there’s a sleepy look in her eyes.

“you’re still awake?” you ask, sitting up a little.

“couldn’t sleep,” she says, making her way to you. without waiting for an invitation, she climbs onto the couch, sliding into your lap and nestling herself against your chest. her hands rest lightly on your shoulders, and she leans her head against you with a content sigh.

“movie good?” she mumbles, her voice muffled by the fabric of your shirt.

“not really,” you reply honestly, wrapping an arm around her waist. “better now, though.”

she lets out a soft laugh, shifting to look up at you. “you’re so cheesy sometimes.”

“and you love it,” you counter with a grin.

her lips twitch upward, but then she frowns slightly, shifting again. “i’m craving something.”

you raise an eyebrow. “what do you need?”

“ice cream. with pickles, eggs and maybe some donuts.” she pauses, her cheeks faintly pink.

you blink, caught off guard by the combination. “uh, sure. anything else?”

she hesitates, biting her lip before murmuring, “maybe some medicine. i’ve been feeling nauseous all day.”

you tilt your head, concern flickering across your face. “nauseous? you okay?”

“it’s nothing,” she says quickly, waving her hand as if to dismiss your worries. “probably just something i ate.”

you nod, though the answer doesn’t quite sit right with you. “okay. i’ll get everything you want.”

as you start to stand, she clings tighter, her arms wrapping around you. “don’t leave just yet,” she says softly. “just a minute.”

you settle back down, letting her burrow against you. her warmth seeps into your skin, and for a moment, you forget about anything outside this room. eventually, she pulls back just enough to meet your eyes.

“thank you,” she whispers, her gaze sincere. before you can reply, she leans up, pressing her lips to yours in a slow, lingering kiss. it’s gentle but firm, and when she pulls away, her cheeks are flushed.

“okay,” she says finally, sliding off your lap with a small, reluctant sigh. “you can go now.”

you grab your jacket, still feeling the warmth of her kiss on your lips. “i’ll be back soon.”

before you can leave, her voice stops you. “thanks, baby,” she murmurs softly. then, almost as an afterthought, she adds, “oh, and maybe get some ginger tea. it helps with the throwing up.”

you freeze for a moment, turning back to her. “throwing up?”

she shrugs nonchalantly. “just a little earlier. it’s fine now.”

you nod, still a little concerned, but you don’t dwell on it. “okay. i’ll grab that too.”

as you step out into the cool night air, a nagging thought lingers in the back of your mind. but you shake it off, focusing instead on the list of cravings waiting to be satisfied.

----- the soft chime of the donut shop’s bell greets you as you step inside, rubbing your hands together to ward off the cold. the warmth and smell of freshly baked goods wrap around you like a comforting blanket, and you glance at the short line ahead of you, mentally rehearsing mina’s list. ice cream, pickles, chips, tea, donuts... and medicine.

the person in front of you fumbles with their wallet, murmuring apologies as the cashier waits. you sigh, feeling the minutes drag on. it’s late, and all you want is to get back to mina.

“sorry, it seems like my card’s not working,” the person says nervously.

without a second thought, you step forward. “i’ll cover it.”

they look at you in surprise. “oh, no, that’s not—”

“really, it’s fine,” you cut in, already tapping your card.

“thank you,” they say sincerely, turning to face you fully—and that’s when you recognize momo, her face partly obscured by a cap pulled low over her forehead. beside her, sana stands in a sleek jacket and jeans, her cap tilted to hide her eyes but not enough to conceal her pouty lips.

“oh!” momo exclaims, her expression lighting up. “it’s you!”

“momo,” you reply politely, though inwardly you’re already counting down the seconds until you can leave.

“what are you doing here?” she asks, grabbing her bag of donuts and coffee.

you gesture to your own bag. “mina's been having cravings. what about you two?”

“needed something to fix this hangover,” momo says with a sheepish laugh, holding up her coffee. “me and sana had a drink.”

sana remains quiet, her gaze fixed on you. it’s an odd mix of hesitance and something softer, almost like she’s studying you. her usual hostility seems absent, replaced by a lingering stare that makes you shift uncomfortably.

“are you okay?” momo asks, nudging sana’s arm.

“huh?” sana blinks, finally tearing her eyes away.

“you’re staring,” momo says bluntly, her tone laced with teasing but underpinned by curiosity. she looks between you and sana, her brow furrowing slightly.

“just... thinking,” sana mutters, brushing past the comment.

but momo doesn’t let it go. her eyes narrow slightly as she watches sana, and then realization dawns. her gaze flicks back to you, then to sana again, her lips pressing into a tight line.

oh no, momo thinks. she’s looking at them the way mina does.

the thought sends a shiver down her spine. she forces a grin, quickly steering the conversation back to safer ground. “well, anyway! thank you for the donuts, super generous of you.”

“not a big deal,” you say with a polite smile. “i should get going, though. have a good night.”

you grab your bag of donuts, making your way back into the chilly night.

when you finally step through the door at home, tired but glad to be back, mina’s waiting for you on the couch. her arms are crossed, her pout deep enough to rival a child denied candy.

“you’re late,” she says, her voice tinged with annoyance.

“sorry,” you reply, setting the bags down and kicking off your shoes. “i ran into momo.”

mina’s eyes narrow. “momo? she’s such a chatterbox. i swear she needs her lips taped shut sometimes.”

you laugh softly, moving to sit beside her. she immediately snuggles into your side, her earlier irritation melting away as she tucks her head against your shoulder.

“don’t let her keep you too long next time,” she murmurs, her fingers trailing lightly over your arm. “you’re mine, not hers.”

“always,” you reply, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. -----

the gala is dazzling, as always—crystal chandeliers casting soft light over the sea of designer gowns and sharp tuxedos. you’re by mina’s side, as you always are, holding a glass of champagne you barely touch. tonight, mina seems a little off, though she’s masterfully concealing it. you catch her wrinkling her nose when a waiter passes with a platter of hors d'oeuvres, her usual grace faltering for just a second.

“you okay?” you ask under your breath, leaning closer.

mina nods with a faint smile. “i’m fine,” she murmurs, though her complexion is a shade paler than usual.

as the night goes on, mina’s behavior becomes harder to ignore. she barely touches her wine, turning it over in her hand more for show than anything else. her responses in conversations with other attendees are clipped, distracted.

you’re talking with a client when you notice mina excusing herself to the restroom for the third time. concern gnaws at you, but before you can follow, someone else beats you to it: mina’s mother.

you keep an eye on them from across the room as they step aside for a hushed conversation. mina’s mother’s face is unreadable at first, but then her eyes widen slightly, her lips parting in a small, startled smile.

the room buzzes on around you, oblivious, but you can’t help feeling the weight of something significant.

when mina returns to your side, she looks almost sheepish. her mother isn’t far behind, a knowing gleam in her eye as she approaches with a champagne flute in hand.

“my, you’re glowing tonight, mina,” her mother says casually, though her gaze flickers to you with thinly veiled amusement. “i wonder why.”

mina stiffens slightly, but she recovers quickly, offering a polite smile. “mother,” she says warningly.

her mother raises an eyebrow. “what? it’s a perfectly normal observation.” then, as if she can’t help herself, she adds, “but it does make one wonder—nausea, avoiding wine... are we expecting an announcement soon?”

you nearly choke on your drink, turning to look at mina, who flushes a deep pink.

“mother, please,” she hisses, though there’s no real anger in her tone—only embarrassment.

the implication hits you like a freight train, and your voice comes out quieter than you intend. “mina... are you?”

she bites her lip, glancing between you and her mother before finally sighing, shoulders slumping. “i was going to tell you tonight,” she admits softly, her hand coming to rest instinctively on her stomach.

the world seems to blur at the edges, narrowing to just her, just this moment. without thinking, you reach for her free hand, your heart racing as warmth floods your chest.

but before you can say anything, mina tugs you closer with surprising urgency. she wraps her arms around your neck, her lips capturing yours in a kiss so heated and full of emotion that the room feels like it’s spinning.

it’s the kind of kiss that leaves no room for misinterpretation—possessive, unrestrained, and entirely mina. you hear a few gasps from the crowd, but all you can focus on is her.

when she finally pulls back, her dark eyes meet yours, shining with something fierce and tender all at once. “don’t just stand there,” she murmurs, her voice low enough for only you to hear. “you’re supposed to be happy.”

“happy doesn’t even cover it,” you reply breathlessly, grinning so wide it feels like your face might split.

mina’s mother watches the exchange, her expression softening into something almost reverent. “well, I must say,” she interjects, her tone warm with pride, “it seems I raised a remarkable daughter—and she chose wisely.”

mina glances at her mother, a rare flush creeping up her neck, but she stands tall, her fingers laced with yours.

“let them talk,” she whispers to you.

you kiss her again, this time slower, savoring the moment. as murmurs ripple through the crowd, you realize it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. all that matters is the incredible woman in your arms and the life you’re about to build together. -----

the drive to the myoui estate is serene, the car slicing through sprawling countryside landscapes as the sun dips below the horizon. you glance at mina, who’s casually scrolling through her phone, her expression unreadable.

“your father is going to be thrilled,” you say softly, trying to ease the tension.

mina doesn’t look up, but the corners of her lips twitch upward. “he better be. it’s not every day he get news like this.”

when the car finally pulls up to the estate, you can’t help but gape. manor feels like an understatement—this is a castle. towering spires, ivy creeping along stone walls, and an expansive driveway lined with hedges shaped so perfectly it’s almost intimidating.

the butler is waiting at the door, bowing as you and mina step out. his composed demeanor falters only slightly as he speaks.

“welcome. your parents are in the living room, but... we also have guests.”

mina pauses mid-step, glancing at the butler. “guests? who?”

“ms. minatozaki and mr. bambam, as well as miss hirai,” he answers.

your heart skips a beat at the names. mina’s face doesn’t change much, but you can tell she’s caught off guard.

“family friends,” she murmurs, more to herself than to you.

as you follow her inside, you’re struck by the sheer grandeur of the place. the high ceilings, gold-framed portraits, and glittering chandeliers seem straight out of a period drama. you’ve been to lavish homes before—your family isn’t exactly poor—but this is on a different level.

you catch yourself staring too long at an ornate staircase, and mina’s amused voice breaks through your awe. “it’s just a house.”

“a house,” you echo, raising a brow. “right.”

when you reach the living room, the air changes. mina’s father is the first to approach, his face splitting into a grin as he strides toward you.

“there’s my in-law!” he booms, pulling you into a hearty hug before stepping back to clap you on the shoulder. “congratulations! fantastic news!”

mina stands stiffly beside you, but her father’s enthusiasm is infectious. you manage a smile, nodding. “thank you, sir.”

“call me dad!” he insists, laughing loudly.

before you can respond, a high-pitched cheer cuts through the room. momo is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, her excitement impossible to contain.

“oh my god, this is amazing! a baby?! i can’t believe it!” she gushes, her voice as bright as her wide grin.

meanwhile, sana sits elegantly on a velvet armchair, composed as ever, though her sharp gaze flickers to you. her expression is unreadable, but there’s something about the way she’s watching you—something that makes your chest tighten.

bambam, lounging casually beside her, seems more interested in mina. his eyes sweep over her with a lingering intensity that doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

mina’s father guides you toward the center of the room, keeping a firm hand on your shoulder. “you two sit down. we need to celebrate properly!”

as you take a seat, you’re acutely aware of the dynamics in the room. momo is practically buzzing, sana is as poised as a cat waiting to pounce, and bambam leans back with a lazy smirk, his eyes still on your wife. mina, ever the picture of grace, places a hand on your arm. her grip is light, but it’s enough to ground you amidst the tension.

“i didn't expect them,” you whisper to mina, attempting to lighten the mood.

“don’t worry,” she murmurs back, her tone calm.

sana’s smile is sharp as she leans forward slightly, her gaze cutting between you and mina. “congratulations,” she says smoothly, her voice carrying an edge you can’t quite place.

bambam, on the other hand, doesn’t even look at you. his eyes are solely on mina as he offers a casual, “congrats, mina. you must be thrilled.”

the room feels stifling for a moment. you shift awkwardly, acutely aware of the dynamic.

“thank you,” you manage to say, though the words feel flat.

sana’s gaze flickers to mina briefly, her smile never faltering. “you’re lucky, aren’t you?”

before you can respond, mina squeezes your arm gently, a subtle reassurance that doesn’t go unnoticed. -----

the myoui mansion is as quiet as it can be for its size, but sleep still evades you. tossing and turning in the grand bed had grown frustrating, so you decided on a walk, hoping the crisp night air would tire you out.

you chuckle softly to yourself as you step into the sprawling garden, muttering, “just your average lawyer, walking through an estate like a wandering ghost.”

but as you round the koi pond, you stop in your tracks. sana is there, sitting near the edge of the pond. the soft lantern light casts an ethereal glow on her, and for a moment, you’re struck by the sight. she’s not her usual composed and sharp-tongued self. her shoulders are slightly hunched, and her gaze is distant, locked on the rippling water.

you hesitate but decide to approach, your footsteps intentionally quiet on the gravel path. sana hears you before you speak, her eyes flickering toward you. she doesn’t bristle or sneer as you half expect; instead, she offers a small, neutral nod.

“couldn’t sleep,” you admit, gesturing to the spot next to her. “thought i’d try counting koi instead of sheep. mind if i join?”

sana huffs a soft laugh at your attempt at humor but nods again.

you sit carefully, the cool stone bench chilling you through your clothes. for a moment, you glance at the fish, their slow, fluid movements mesmerizing under the lantern light.

“so,” you start after a pause, your tone casual but curious, “why are you always so... mean to me?”

she turns to you, her lips quirking slightly. “straight to the point, huh?”

“i can’t help it,” you say, leaning back and giving her a sidelong glance. “it’s been bugging me.”

sana looks back at the pond, exhaling through her nose. “it’s not you,” she says after a beat, her voice quiet but firm. “it’s something personal.”

you blink, caught off guard. “oh. so... you don’t hate me?”

she shakes her head, her expression softening. “no. you’re alright.”

you grin, a bit sheepishly. “could’ve fooled me.”

she smirks but says nothing, and for a while, you both watch the koi in companionable silence. then, a thought strikes you, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “do you... like mina?”

sana freezes for a second, then bursts out laughing, the sound so unexpected and genuine that you find yourself staring at her, dumbfounded.

“what?” she says between chuckles, wiping at her eyes. “no, absolutely not.”

“hey, it’s a valid question!” you protest, but you’re smiling too, her laughter surprisingly infectious.

sana shakes her head, the corners of her mouth still twitching upward. “you’re ridiculous. no, that’s not the reason.”

“then what is it?” you ask, emboldened by her lighthearted response.

“wouldn’t you like to know,” she teases, her tone lilting.

you roll your eyes playfully, and the two of you lapse back into a comfortable silence, the air between you noticeably lighter. but then sana turns to you, her gaze lingering longer than usual.

“since you asked me something,” she starts, her voice quieter now, “mind if i ask you something?”

you nod, curious.

“were you in japan, the myoui town about four years ago?” she asks, her expression unreadable.

you blink, thrown off by the question. “uh, yeah, i think so. i’ve been there a few times. why?”

sana looks away, her lips pressing into a thin line as if debating whether to say more. “just wondering,” she finally says, brushing it off with a casual shrug.

but then she glances at you again, a subtle shift in her expression. her eyes soften, and the faintest smile tugs at her lips—not the sharp, sarcastic one you’re used to, but something quieter, almost fond.

“you’re interesting, you know that?” she says out of nowhere, her tone lighter, almost teasing.

“me?” you blink, startled. “how?”

“just are,” she says with a small shrug, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. she leans back, propping herself up on her hands, and gazes at the pond again. “maybe i’ve been too hard on you.”

you chuckle nervously, not quite sure how to respond. “uh... thanks? i think?”

she laughs softly, shaking her head. “don’t let it get to your head.”

the two of you lapse into another comfortable silence, but this time, it feels different—easier, warmer somehow. sana seems more at ease, even leaning slightly closer to you as the conversation drifts to lighter topics. you share a few jokes, her laughter surprisingly genuine, and the moments stretch on longer than you’d anticipated.

eventually, sana glances at you again, her smile lingering. she nods faintly, almost to herself, as if confirming something only she understands.

“you’re not so bad,” she says softly, her gaze lingering on you a moment longer before looking back at the water.

you don’t know what to say to that, so you just nod, the corners of your mouth tugging up despite yourself.

as the night deepens, you find yourself forgetting why you were ever nervous around sana. there’s something disarming about this side of her—more human, less guarded—and for the first time, it feels like you’re really seeing her.

“you know,” sana says suddenly, her tone lighter again, “i think i like this version of you. less formal, more... real.”

“well, don’t get used to it,” you tease, standing up and stretching. “i’ve got an image to uphold.”

she laughs again, the sound carrying softly through the garden.

as you head back inside, the memory of her smile lingers, and you can’t help but wonder what exactly shifted between the two of you tonight.

----- end of part three a/n — honestly eat up bro, happy birthday to my girl sana she gets a scene here baby!!! we're like 40% there guys but i still have something to uncover.

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echoingbirdsofprey · 3 days ago

Text

Delicate (Jake's Version)

23 - Jake's First Navy Cross

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: Explicit (MDNI!)

Warnings: none really just my brain being crazy and having so much inspiration. The next chapter though is gonna be some wild smut.

A/N: Welcome to my not sick not. I feel sort of normal, no more body aches thank god, but still have a cough. As always likes, comments, and reblogs are super appreciated! We need Jake in his dress blues more often. Hehehe.

Tags: @mrsevans90 @djs8891 @gpsmississippihippie @barnesboo1967 @dizzybee03

The Navy Birthday Ball. Something that Samantha attended every year because it was her father who made the speech and presented awards. She always sat front row with her mother, Mark and Alex. This year was going to be a bit different. She knew they were doing a special dedication to her father. Mark and Alex were not going. Sam was not sitting with her mother. She was sitting with Jake.

Jake did not go every year. In fact, he hadn’t been in the past three years because he’d been deployed on two and the last year he just didn’t want to dress up and go. This year though he was obligated to go. He needed to be there for Sam, and he was getting a Navy Cross Medal.

Jake had seen the doctor earlier in the day and got the okay to have his sling off completely. The physical therapy had been going smoothly. He was still struggling with the actual therapist though. He was decently compliant with Ryker’s questions, but Ryker knew not to pry too much. He'd been through a similar experience. He knew Jake would open up eventually, or he wouldn't heal. Jake needed to heal, if not for himself, for Samantha.

Sam on the other hand...Jake had opened up more to Sam than he intended. And being that vulnerable with her seemed to make the nightmares worse. He had awoken for a week straight, every night, screaming, thrashing, when he didn’t have to. He’d be drenched in sweat, shivering and shaking, and every night Sam was right there, holding onto him as tight as she could, trying her best to calm him. He felt like a fucking child, being held and rocked back to sleep, half the time sobbing into her chest or holding her entirely too tight.

One of those mornings he had woken up four times and Sam with him. When they both looked in the mirror, they had bags under their eyes, and they both looked fucking haggered. Jake pressed a kiss to her neck and wound his arms around her waist, when Sam winced. She glanced down at where his arm was, peeling it from her sticky skin. There was a bruise there. Jake examined it, realizing it could only be from him.

“Fuck, Sam. I’m so...I’m...sorry...sorry...fuck...” He stuttered and Sam immediately took him in her arms. He wanted to collapse on the floor and die, but she wouldn't let him.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. I told you to hold me as tight as you needed.” She murmured against his chest. His eyes held so much sorrow, so much worry, and as he blinked rapidly, his jaw working with uncertainty, she couldn’t do much else but be a steady presence. She knew he wouldn’t accept it, but she really was unbothered by the bruise. She had spoken with Margie about when Ryker came home and what that was like. Margie had her fair share of accidental bruises from Ryker whacking her in the middle of the night while he was fighting demons in his sleep. The mind was a powerful thing when it thought it needed to defend itself.

Jake's was fighting for it's fucking life. It didn't need to, but his brain didn't know that. When a wad of squishy, wet, tissue controls the advanced electronics for a suit of meat and muscle made to hunt and kill, there's bound to be some fuckery. Especially when that suit of meat has had some bad experiences.

Jake fully understood that people got captured and tortured when it came to war, but deep down, person to person, he didn't understand how someone could do that and not feel awful about it. He knew they didn't feel bad about what they did to him. The blood on the floor, his broken bones, and the conditions they kept him told him that. His captors were the scum of the earth and Jake might spend the rest of his life trying to figure out why it had been him that ended up there. He knew why, but of all the missions, of all the luck in the world, why did it have to be then and there?

He surmised maybe it had to do with the unbelievable, incredible woman that he came home to. They'd really been put through some hell between Sam losing her father and Jake getting captured. But there was so much good that had come out of it. Jake proposed. That was one thing he never thought he'd do.

Then there were the puppies. Jake had made several new friends and connections with the acquisition of the puppies and they were just another thing that made Sam happy. Or maybe what really made Sam happy was watching Jake learn how to train the puppies and in turn learn a little more about himself in the process. Jake's unfurling of his ego was something that Sam admired to the point that it has changed her mind on having children, though since he'd come home there weren't many instances where they'd gotten the chance to consummate their desires. With his therapy, working with the dogs, beginning to work from his office at the base, Sam's work, and his physical therapy, Jake's libido had taken a hit. Sure, he got pretty damn excited to see Sam but he didn't have an overwhelming need to fuck her every other hour. And in all honesty, Sam was okay with it. She enjoyed the kissing and the touching but she only wanted sex if Jake was feeling up to it and most nights he fell asleep before they could get into it.

Jake had planned the night of the Navy Ball to a T though. They would attend the ball for a few hours, then head home, and Jake was going to take his sweet time with her and make love to her with the intention of going a few rounds. He knew seeing her in a dress would have him riled up anyway. Sam had perfect curves and anytime she wore a dress, the fabric hugged those curves in a way that was so sinful that it left Jake feeling a sudden urge to destroy the beautiful clothing. He never did but the want was there, to rip the fabric from her body and ravage what was underneath. He was sure she would let him do it too.

Jake would be dressed in his finest blues and Sam had picked an evening dress that would have him on his knees later. It was an almost midnight blue, sparkly all over like the night sky, and it had a slit up one thigh. It sat off her one shoulder and most of her upper back was exposed, but she left her hair down and wavy. She picked a set of pretty silver heels that still only brought her just barely eye level with Jake.

“My short queen.” He murmured as he pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of her shoulder from behind. She was standing in the bathroom applying very modest makeup, just eyeliner, and dark blue eye-shadow and a rosy lipstick. She never needed blush because if she stared at Jake long enough, her cheeks would naturally go pink for him. He loved that he had that effect on her. “We should get going.”

She agreed and turned to look at him. “Can't wait to see that Navy Cross on your chest.” She said softly as she stretched up to kiss him. He smirked and brushed his fingers across her cheek, his eyes lingering half lidded on her. He trailed his hand down and picked hers up, the one with her engagement ring on, and pressed a kiss to the back.

“And I can't wait for you to be truly mine, for the rest of our lives.” He said, as he guided her out of the bathroom and into the hallway. He helped her down the stairs, holding her dress up slightly so that she could get down them easier. Maisy and Javy met them at the bottom of the stairs.

“Damn, Sammy. Lookin’ fine.” Javy exclaimed as he pulled Maisy in a little closer. “But not as good as my pretty chica here.”

“That’s a matter of opinion, ‘Yote.” Jake joked and Javy punched him lightly in the arm. “Nah, just kidding. Both of our ladies are gonna be turnin’ heads.”

Jake checked on the dogs one more time, giving them each a soft bone in their crates before shutting the doors. They headed to their trucks and were on the road, ready to make their appearance at the ball in t-minus thirty minutes.

The drive felt short and Sam for whatever reason, was nervous. They met the rest of Dagger Squad outside and everyone was gussied up and gorgeous in their dress blues and formal attire. Nat pulled Sam into a tight hug.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, girl. I would say I wish you were my date, but Bob did ask me first.” She laughed and Sam’s smile reached her eyes and then she looked around for Jake. To her surprise, he was right there, his hands shoved in his pocket, but his eyes admiring her from a few feet away. When she stepped away from Nat, he stepped in and hugged her and then as Bob came up behind her, he shook Jake’s hand.

“Have you seen Rooster yet?” Nat asked, and Jake shook his head.

“Is he here?” Jake stepped away from her and grabbed Sam's hand.

“He’s supposed to be. Callie actually asked him to be her date, but I guess he said no.” Nat said as they all began to head into the hall. They saw Cyclone and Warlock, with their wives, and Maverick was inside already with Penny on his arm, who looked downright stunning in a champagne colored gown. Everyone grabbed drinks first and then made their way to their tables, which were all assigned. Jake took a walk around the table, checking the names at the ten seats. Bob and Nat, Javy and Maisy, Reuben and Mickey who came together as a joke, Sam and himself, and then to his surprise, Rooster and someone named Iris. Maybe Rooster had met someone?

They would find out soon enough. Everyone took their seats, but no Rooster yet. Nat and Sam shared a look as the ceremonies got under way. Cyclone walked up onto the stage and made an opening statement of sorts, talking about how the ball was a time honored tradition every year and that everyone should have fun, but not too much fun, and to be safe. He also made a short statement about Iceman and how much he’s missed by his fellow pilots and colleagues. He presented her mother with a small memorial plaque for his years of service. Sam hadn’t even seen her mother come in. She hadn’t talked to her much either, barely had gone home in the past few months while caring for Jake.

Then Cyclone began another monologue. “As many of you know, being deployed is an honor, but it can also be a curse. You never know if you’ll come home. Your spouse or partner will worry about you the whole time you’re deployed. You never know if a mission is going to go south. When it does, you never know if you’re coming out of it or not. That’s what we sign up for. And we do it for all different reasons, but mostly because we love our country and the freedom we enjoy here.” Cyclone's eyes settle on Jake and he continues. “There are some of us who go above and beyond, displaying valor beyond what is required. And for that, for a sacrifice such as the one that Lieutenant Commander Jacob ‘Hangman’ Seresin made for his fellow pilots, we award medals of honor. Jake, please step forward.”

Jake stood, his heart pounding in his chest. There was roaring applause and he leaned down to kiss Sam before he headed up to the stage. Warlock and a few other higher up officers stood on the stage, holding their hands out for Jake to shake. When he stepped over to Cyclone, he shook his hand, and then Cyclone pinned the Navy Cross on his jacket just above his other mini service medals.

“I present this Navy Cross Medal to Lieutenant Commander Jacob Seresin, for his extraordinary heroism and valor in air combat to save his fellow pilots. Without his sacrifice, the mission outcome would’ve looked much different. We thank you for your service, Jacob.” Cyclone said as the photographer snapped some pictures. Jake thanked him and headed back to his seat. Sam kissed him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, giving him a perfect view of her perfect breasts nearly spilling from her dress.

“My handsome and brave pilot.” She said, her lips brushing against the shell of his ear. It sent a shiver down his spine and he glanced around at the rest of the table. No one was paying any attention as their dinner had arrived in front of them. They were chatting and laughing and all Jake could think of was how fucking beautiful Sam looked in her dress. He thought he might be a little more excited to have his medal, but maybe he was just comfortable without his sling again. Jake leaned over as their food was placed in front of them.

“I don’t wanna rush you but...” Sam could damn near feel the smirk on his lips and she could hear it in his voice.

“You don’t wanna celebrate your medal? She asked and he nodded.

“Of course I do, but not with all these people. It's my damn medal.” Jake said, taking a few bites of his food. Sam placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed. She was going to fuck around and Jake was counting on her finding out the consequences in just a couple short hours. About halfway through dinner, Rooster and his lady friend made their appearance. He introduced her to everyone and they sat down, the waitress coming over to serve them dinner.

“Traffic from the airport was hell.” He said, glancing at Jake. “Hangman. You look good.”

“Ah, I am good, Rooster. I’m very good. I heard you were in Virginia the past month. How was that?” Jake asked and Rooster took a sip of the wine that had come with dinner. Jake observed him for a few moments. Rooster’s eyes flicked over to Sam every once in a while, while his date looked just as stunning, and he barely gave her a second look the whole dinner. Jake thought it was an interesting dynamic. Was it a stab at Sam, thinking he could get a girl who looked just as pretty as Sam and make her jealous? Or was it just what it looked like, that Rooster had elected to bring a date whom he didn’t know very well and they were just in that awkward new stage of their relationship where they weren’t sure how to be around people in public and together yet. Either way Jake thought it was interesting.

“It was good. Met Iris here. She works on base at Oceana as a nurse. We went to her base’s ball a couple days ago when I got back from deployment. She wanted to come out to Cali and come to ours and meet everyone and I guess I couldn’t say no.” Rooster explained and Jake pursed his lips. Interesting, Jake thought, very interesting. So Jake was right, they were in the beginning of their relationship, but it was clear that Rooster was rushing it. Iris seemed uncomfortable with everyone but as the dinner continued she seemed to loosen up a bit. Rooster got up at some point to go to the bathroom and Sam leaned over to talk to Iris.

“Hi. I’m Sam. I’m an old friend of Bradley’s. Hopefully you’re enjoying yourself?” She asked and Iris nodded.

“Yeah. It’s nice to meet everyone. I briefly met Pete.” Jake’s brow furrowed and then he realized she meant Maverick. She clearly didn’t use callsigns much.

“Are you staying for a bit?” Sam asked and Iris nodded.

“Yeah. I got leave for Christmas and so did Bradley, so we’re going to stay here through New Year’s and then head back to Oceana. We’ll stop in Michigan on the way back to see my family.”

“Oh, you’re from Michigan? Must be cold in the winter.” Sam said.

“Yeah. As soon as I could get out I did. I was so happy to get stationed in Virginia. So much better winters.” Iris said. “Where are you from, Sam?”

“I’m from here. My father just passed away but he’d been stationed here for most of his career.” Sam said.

“Oh so you’re not in the Navy?” Iris asked.

“No, Jake, my fiance is. My father was the Fleet Commander for the past ten years so the Navy’s in my blood I’m just not in it.” Sam patted Jake on the shoulder and he smiled warmly at Iris, just as Rooster sat back down.

“Getting to know Hangman?” He asked, placing his hand on her shoulder. Jake chuckled.

“No, our ladies were actually bonding, Roos.” Jake said and Rooster shot him a small smile. There was an awkward tension between them that Sam could feel, but she had gathered that the rest of the table didn't feel it or they were trying to ignore it altogether. Jake figured everyone was just trying to be cordial and friendly. Jake glanced over at Sam and seeing that she had finished her food, he smirked. He wiggled his brows and she shook her head.

“Can we go now?” He asked, leaning in to whisper it in her ear.

“You wanna leave that bad?” She giggled as his lips brushed against her neck. His hands went for her thigh, running up the slit in her dress.

“Yes. I do. Did you want dessert?” He asked, kissing her firmly on the lips then.

“Kind of.” She whimpered and his eyes darkened as he drew back slightly to lock eyes with her.

“Too bad. I’ve got dessert at home for you, babygirl.” He growled. Sam’s mouth dropped open and the bush that Jake loved so much crept across her cheeks. She cleared her throat and used his shoulder to help herself stand up.

“Jake and I are going to head home. It was nice to see everyone. Nice to meet you Iris.” She announced to the table and Jake smiled wide and nodded to everyone as he stood. His fellow pilots all said their goodbyes and Rooster just gave Jake a passing glance. He fixed his jacket and then his hand connected with Sam’s lower back as they headed toward the door. They passed couples here and there in the hall as they left, some making out, some sharing drinks, some laughing and dancing.

Jake could only focus on Sam thought as they stepped into the cool night air. He helped her into the truck and she immediately removed her heels, throwing them on the floor at her feet. Jake started the truck, the engine rumbling to life. He glanced over at her and then shifted the truck into drive and pulled out of the spot. Jake could make the half hour drive into twenty minutes if there was no traffic.

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x oc #top gun hangman #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #glen powell

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ikkyfics · 1 day ago

Note

This is my first time requesting so I'm a little nervous!

Could you maybe write for Dave with a partner that has insomnia and really struggles with sleeping?

For example he would sometimes wake up at like 4 am and just see her on her phone wide awake?

Thank you if you decide to write this! Also please don't push yourself and take care! :)

Until You Sleep

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: When he entered, the steaming cup in his hand, you looked up at him, surprised. “Dave, you didn’t have to...” “I did, actually,” he interrupted with a soft smile. “Here. There’s nothing better than lavender tea to help you relax. Trust me, I researched everything about this.”

Warnings: none! just

A/N: dear, i really hope you like this <333 it was a really cute request to write, please also take care

Masterlist

Dave had noticed you. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been paying attention before, but in the past few weeks, something felt different. You had been quieter, your eyes a little glazed, as if they were constantly tired. There were faint, but persistent dark circles that he had noticed while you bent over your college books or during the rare mornings when he woke up before you. It was as if insomnia had stolen some of the sparkle he loved so much about you, and that worried him more than he could express.

That night, Dave woke up suddenly. He wasn’t even sure what had woken him, but he instinctively turned to your side of the bed. You were there, still lying down, but something was wrong. Your silhouette, lit only by the faint blue light from your phone, was still, except for the soft movement of your fingers on the screen.

He blinked a few times, his messy dark curls falling over his forehead as he propped himself up on an elbow to get a better look. The first thing he noticed was the loose shirt you were wearing – one of his, navy blue, with the sleeves rolled up at your wrists. It was a sight that usually made his heart race with happiness, but now it only made him more aware of the fact that something was wrong.

“Hey,” he called, his voice still rough from sleep, but full of a sweetness he reserved only for you. “You couldn’t sleep, huh?”

You froze for a moment, as if you didn’t want him to know, but then sighed and lowered your phone. “I didn’t want to wake you...” your voice came out low, almost apologetic.

Dave leaned in closer, now lying on his side to face you. His blue eyes, even in the dark, had an intensity that made it seem like he could see much more than just your tired face. He reached out a hand to you, his warm fingers brushing against the cool skin of your arm. The touch was gentle, a silent request for you to look at him.

“You’ve seemed so tired lately. I’m worried,” the sincerity in his voice was enough to make you finally meet his gaze.

He slid his fingers down your arm until he was holding your hand, squeezing it lightly. “I know you’re trying to handle this on your own, but... let me help. I don’t like seeing you like this.”

There was something in his tone – a mix of determination and affection – that was so typically Dave. He wasn’t just awake; he was present. Completely focused on you, as if nothing else in the world mattered at that moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling like this?” he asked, his other hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You hesitated for a moment, averting your gaze to the phone still in your hand. Dave’s fingers, warm and firm, traced a gentle pattern on your arm, as if he were trying to convey calm through touch. His question echoed in your mind, simple yet full of meaning. He wasn’t just curious; he wanted to understand, wanted to know how he could help.

“I... didn’t want to bother you,” you murmured, finally responding. Your voice sounded fragile, almost a whisper. “You have so much going on with college, with assignments... It didn’t seem fair.”

Dave shook his head almost immediately, his messy curls moving with him. “That’s not how it works, you know? We’re in this together. If you’re not okay, then I’m not okay. That’s what being together means.”

He squeezed your hand a little tighter, leaning in closer. His eyes were soft, but there was determination in them, a quiet strength that made you want to believe every word he said. “You’ll never be alone in this, okay? No matter what.”

A brief, shy smile appeared at the corner of your lips, but you still seemed hesitant. Dave noticed. He always noticed. Without letting go of your hand, he leaned in closer and placed a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek, just below your eye. It was such a simple gesture, but full of affection that made your chest warm.

“Wait for me here,” he said, his voice low, almost a secret shared between you two. “I’ll be right back.”

Before you could ask what he was doing, he got up. Dave was just in sweatpants, the muscles in his back moving smoothly as he walked to the kitchen. You followed his movement, his messy curls and broad shoulders a reminder of how he had changed since high school. He was stronger now, but still the same Dave – kind, caring, always willing to put you first.

In the kitchen, he moved with careful quietness, trying not to make noise. He opened the small cabinet where you kept the teas and scanned the packages. He had bought those flavors specifically for you, after a long night researching about insomnia. The promises of relaxation and calm were printed on the packages in soft fonts, almost as if they were the solution to everything.

“Chamomile... or maybe lavender?” he murmured to himself, holding both packets for a moment before choosing the lavender one.

While the water heated up, Dave rested his hands on the counter and glanced down the hallway, where he could see the faint light from the lamp illuminating the bedroom. He wanted to do more. He wanted to find a way to lift the weight that seemed to have settled on you, even if it was an invisible weight.

When the kettle whistled, he quickly made the tea, adding a small spoon of honey – just the right amount of sweetness. He made sure it was the right temperature before heading back to the bedroom.

You were still lying there, the phone now resting beside you. When he entered, the steaming cup in his hand, you looked up at him, surprised.

“Dave, you didn’t have to...”

“I did, actually,” he interrupted with a soft smile. He sat down beside you on the bed, holding the cup carefully to avoid spilling it. “Here. There’s nothing better than lavender tea to help you relax. Trust me, I researched everything about this.”

You took the cup, your fingers brushing his for a moment. The warmth of the porcelain matched his expression – so warm, so full of affection.

“You really researched it?”

“Of course I did.” He seemed genuinely proud of himself, the smile on his face growing wider. “And you wouldn’t believe how many forums I read about what works to help someone sleep. Seriously, some people even suggest smelling soaps.”

You chuckled softly, the first time in days, and Dave looked at you as if he had just won the biggest prize in the world.

“That’s so silly,” you said, but you were still smiling.

“It might be, but if it works, I’ll do it.” He leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with that intensity so typical of him. “Anything to see you feel better.”

The silence settled back in, but this time it was different. There was no discomfort, only his presence, solid and comforting, like a safe harbor for the storms brewing in your mind.

Dave watched as you held the cup with both hands, blowing gently on the tea before taking a sip. He didn’t take his eyes off you for a second, as if every small movement you made deserved his full attention. It was that kind of thing that made him special – the way he was completely present, even in the simplest moments.

“Is it good?” he asked, his blue eyes fixed on yours.

You nodded, a small smile forming at the corner of your lips. “It’s perfect. Lavender with honey... you really pay attention to everything.”

“Of course I do,” he responded immediately, with a smile that made your heart warm. “I’m your boyfriend. It’s like... my mission to know what makes you feel good.”

The way he said it was so genuine, so full of affection, that you couldn’t help but smile even wider. He seemed satisfied to see it, as if that small gesture was confirmation that he was on the right path.

While you finished making the tea, Dave adjusted himself beside you on the bed, leaning back against the headboard with the pillow folded behind him. He was closer now, and you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, strong and secure.

“You know,” he started, his voice low, as if sharing a secret, “some people say that ambient sounds help with sleep. Like... rain noises, ocean waves... things like that.”

You tilted your head, curious, as you placed the empty cup on the nightstand. “Did you find that in your late-night research?”

“I did,” he admitted, laughing at himself. “I read a bunch of reports. There are even apps for that, you know? I thought about downloading one, but then I started wondering... what would I do if you said you preferred the sound of a waterfall or something impossible to replicate?”

You laughed softly, and he smiled along with you, as if the sound of your laughter was the answer to all his questions. He extended an arm, gently pulling you closer until your head rested on his chest.

“Well,” you began, your voice slightly muffled, the words vibrating against the firm skin of his chest, “I think I don’t need rain or waterfall sounds.”

“Oh, you don’t?” he asked, lowering his gaze to you.

You shook your head, a near-childlike gesture, as you slipped one arm around his waist, snuggling in closer. “I think I prefer listening to your heartbeat. It’s the most relaxing sound I know.”

Dave was silent for a moment, clearly surprised by your response. Then, his smile widened, lighting up his face in a way that made your chest tighten. He tilted his head slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head, while his hand began gently caressing your back.

“You’re unbearably cute, you know that?” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“You like it,” you replied, with a mischievous smile he didn’t need to see to know it was there.

“I love it,” he corrected, without hesitation. “And I love you. Far more than I can explain.”

Your face was pressed against his chest, and you could hear the steady, constant sound of Dave’s heartbeat. It was a rhythm that brought an almost immediate sense of security, as if the outside world could wait while the two of you remained like this, together.

“It’s beating fast,” you murmured, your voice soft and sleepy, as if it was more of a stray thought than something that needed to be said.

Dave laughed softly, a sound that reverberated through his body and reached you. “It’s your fault, you know?”

“My fault?” You lifted your face just enough to look at him, your brow slightly arched in confusion.

“Of course,” he replied, his blue eyes shining with amusement and something deeper, something more intimate. “You’re here, all cute, wearing my shirt... saying things that make my heart almost jump out of my chest. How do you expect it to stay calm?”

A shy smile appeared on your face, and you looked away, pressing your cheek back against his chest. Before fully resting, you left a delicate kiss there, right where you could feel the accelerated beats. It was such a small gesture, but it carried so much affection that Dave sighed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer, as if wanting to protect you from anything that might disturb you.

“You’re so silly,” he said, but there was a clear smile in his voice. “But, my God, I love this so much.”

You didn’t answer immediately, letting the comfortable silence fill the space between you. It was the kind of silence that didn’t need to be broken because it was full of meaning. The sound of your breaths blended together, and the warmth of his body beside you seemed to dissipate any trace of tension that might still have lingered.

After a few minutes, Dave spoke again, his voice low and soft, as if afraid to break the moment. “I’ll stay awake until you fall asleep.”

“You don’t need to do that,” you replied, your voice slightly muffled against his chest.

“Of course I do,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You’re the most important person in my life. If you can’t sleep, I can’t just ignore that.”

There was a pause, and he took the time to run his fingers through your hair, the movements slow and meticulous. It was a touch you knew he did on purpose because he knew how much it helped relax you.

“Dave...” you began, but your voice faltered slightly.

“Hmm?” He continued with his fingers in your hair, but tilted his head slightly to look at you.

“You make everything feel... easier,” you admitted, your eyes beginning to close as the fatigue finally started to take over. “Even when it feels impossible to sleep... with you, I feel like I can. I love you.”

Dave didn’t answer immediately but left a soft kiss on the top of your head, his warm breath against your hair. “It’s because you don’t have to do anything alone,” he whispered, as if it were a promise. “I’ll always be here, okay? Always.”

The sound of his heartbeat remained steady, and the arms around you were firm and comforting. For the first time in weeks, you felt your eyelids growing heavy for real, and before you could even realize it, sleep finally began to pull you under.

And Dave, as promised, stayed awake, watching you with a soft smile on his lips, as if taking care of you was the only thing in the world that truly mattered.

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