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stormhearty · 9 months ago

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Pairings: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Triggers: pregnancy trope, longing, mention of death, thoughts of suicide, blood, baby’s death, open-ended ending

Summary: Hiraeth definition: “homesickness, longing, nostalgia and a wistful desire for something irretrievably lost.” It had been several years since your passing, one that he cursed the Mother and the Gods for. Now he wanders the world, endless and lost, waiting for the day you would whisper in his ears to come home — home to you.

Note: From this request! Thank you @soulsansang (I cannot tag you for the life of me), for sending this request! I fought every urge to connect this to my Seer!Reader fics. The idea of hiraeth fit perfectly with a mourning Azriel; however, I needed something else. Needed an Azriel who was mourning not because of his actions, but due to unforeseen circumstances that fate seemed to have placed him in. I’m sorry for the “pregnancy trope”, I didn’t think I would be writing this one like this. If you do not like that trope, I completely understand and I respect you not reading this. But I do hope you enjoy, and I hope it fills the angst and sadness that you had requested!

“Azriel~!”

He looked over his shoulder, his name echoing in his ears, as he stepped out of his apartment and into the pouring rain. Dull hazel eyes stared at the gray skies as the rain poured down, relentless and unforgiving.

It had been days since this rain had started, and it seemed as if it would never stop. It was torrent, heavy with the mix of strong that howled through the empty alleyways. Valeris was almost like an abandoned city — its inhabitants were locked indoors due to the storm that shook its walls.

Azriel’s form shuddered, the wetness seeping into his clothes. He barely wore something that would keep him warm in such icy weather — a simple black jacket, a long-sleeved tee hidden underneath, and black jeans. His leather shoes were soaked in the rain as he stepped into another puddle, not caring that the wetness soaked into his feet.

He walked through the deserted city, only a few who braved the torrential storm were running through the streets. Those out looked at the Spymaster with confusion and worry, but none voiced them out loud — he wouldn’t have listened anyway.

He had one destination — and he would make it there — despite the storm.

Stepping across the Sindra River, the cobblestone bridge was overrun by the river below. Waters crashed upon slowly decaying rocks, splashing over the sides and onto the bridge. Traversing it might seem impossible for any normal Fae, but for Azriel, it was easy.

He stepped onto the bridge, not minding how the cold waters of the river splashed onto him. He paused, at the arch of the bridge, leaning over the stoney rail to look at those rapid waters that raced down the riverbend. They crashed and crescented over rocks, splashing against everything and anything that stood in its way — and the downpour only amplified the river’s maelstrom.

Azriel looked into the waters below him, barely making out his reflection in them. He blinked out the water that tricked into his eyes, and when he looked back down into his reflection — instead he found a familiar figure — hair blowing in the raging wind, eyes looking up at him, hand reached out as if to tempt him into those frigid cold waters below him.

It was tempting, to say the least, the call to be submerged into the depths of the river, to feel the icy liquid deep into his skin — and make the river his grave.

He couldn't help it — the image was like a siren with its sailors, tempting them to their end. Leaning across the cobblestone rail, he leaned down — down into the depths of the water. Azriel had every mindset, every want to drown in that very river.

However, he felt his body pause, as if a tiny hand tugged on his shoulder — a child’s laugh echoing in his ears.

His body snapped up, his head whipping over his shoulder, frantically looking around, only to stop. Eyes noticed a fallen blue-violet on the drenched cobblestone. Azriel felt his body go rigid at the flower, remembering what it had meant. He turned around and knelt, shaky hands reaching down to pick up the soaked flower. He felt his eyes prickle with tears as he turned it in his hand, before bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss on the petals, standing up and pocketing it.

Dull hues stared at the river below him, noticing his reflection once more — and not the mirage that tempted him to death. A frown tugged on the edge of his blue-tinged lips before making his way across the bridge once more, the call of death barely whispering in his ears.

He turned, his feet bringing him off paved grounds into a mud-soaked one. The mud squished underneath his feet. He weaved through familiar trees, and as he delved further into the forest the canopy above him blocked the gray skies above, the pitter-patter of rain on soil lessening. There, underneath the canopy, Azriel shook his wings out — the rain that had drenched his wings flying off in droplets. He raised a hand, running through soak locks, pushing them back away from his face. He fixed his jacket, dusting off the moisture from its soaked fabric before he continued walking.

Hazel hues saw the familiar clearing, watching as the downpour continued to drench the soil in its never-ending attack. He stood at the edge of the clearing, hues staring up at the sky once more. He silently cursed the Mother and the Gods above for this rain — all he wanted was to see the clear skies for once.

Azriel stepped into the clearing, the rain drenching his clothes once more — not that he minded anyway.

He stepped into the middle of the clearing where a lone headstone stood. A simple one, nothing to extravagant. Azriel felt his heart race in his chest as he got closer to the headstone.

Azriel kneeled in front of the headstone, a tearful gaze as he read the words that were etched onto the stone: Here lies (Y/N), the wonderful wife of Azriel. Mother of their unborn child. May the Mother and Gods bring her safe passage to the Havens.

It had been two years since he had to bury your body, along with your unborn child.

The Mother was cruel to him.

You and Azriel had been married for over three centuries — his life was full of color, full of happiness and full of love. You were everything to Azriel. He would miss you when he went to missions, kiss you silly when he got home from said missions; he would spend lazy time with you, your head on his lap or vice versa — just spending time with each other. And for those three centuries, both of you had tried for a child, but because Fae menstrual cycles were so sporadic, it had been difficult.

But two years ago, your miracle baby happened.

“Azriel!”

Azriel turned around after shutting the door to your apartment, only to catch your body that flung towards his way.

“Hey love,” he greeted you, a chuckle escaping his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, looking down and noticing how your head tucked into his chest. He could feel your excitement vibrate through your body and he couldn't help but wonder what had gotten you so happy.

But at that moment, he just leaned down and pressed a kiss on the crown of your head, watching your head tilt up to look at him, your eyes shining.

“What is it?” he hummed out with a raised brow.

He watched as you bit your lower lip, fighting the smile that tugged at the edge of your lips.

“You know how I have been feeling unwell the past few weeks…” you had started off.

Azriel hummed out, shifting you in his arms so that you were at his side, his arm wrapped around your waist before leading you into the kitchen. He maneuvered you around, grasping your waist and lifting you with ease onto the countertop next to the stove.

“Azriel!!” You shrieked in surprise, your hands grasping his shoulders to stretch yourself.

He smirks up at you, settling himself between your legs, “Now what were you saying, love?”

He watched you huff softly before continuing your story, “Well I went to Madja earlier today and I told her of my symptoms—-”

“Nausea, headaches, bloating…” he listed off.

Azriel knew your symptoms, it had worried him to the max. Both of you didn't know what had happened — he was worried about some sort of poisoning… he thought of the worst-case scenarios. And you had to be the one to calm him down from those spiraling thoughts.

You hummed and nodded your head, “Well… it looks like you didn't have to be so worried about that poisoning scenario, my love…” you whispered as you leaned down to press your forehead against his.

He felt your hands slide down his shoulders, down his arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Azriel always loved how you touched him — there was no hesitancy in the way you held him, touched him — whether it he sexual or intimate. You had always initiated touching him and now, he can't live without your hands or body near his own.

He felt your hands grip his own, sliding then to your lower abdomen, pressing his hands against the soft skin.

“… I’m pregnant, Azzie…”

Your words were a whisper and Azriel felt his eyes widen at the words that had left your lips. He stared up at you and watched as your eyes sparkle light the night sky at your confession.

Hazel hues looked up at you before sliding down your body to where your hand lay over his own. A wide smile tugged on his lips before he slipped his hands away from your own, cupping your cheeks and kissing you.

He poured everything into that kiss — all his love for you and this unborn child.

When his lungs screamed for air, he was content with pressing kisses on your skin while you giggled, feeling your hands run through his hair.

“We’ll be having a child…” he whispered in disbelief.

He heard you let out a hum, feeling your head nod, “Yes we are… after centuries… our beautiful child…”

Every word that you whispered was full of happiness, adoration, and excitement. He knew, from hearing you speak, that you'd be a wonderful mother… one that would dote on that child.

He was elated — after centuries of both of you trying, watching your family build their own little families — Azriel was worried that both of you would never be blessed with a child. Yet now, the Mother seemed to rain her fortune on the both of you.

But deep within him, worry festered like mold, slowly growing. He worried about the complications — he heard about it with Rhysand and Feyre, Nesta and Cassian. And he worried for you — and all he could pray to the Mother that you would be spared from it.

“What color should the baby’s room be?”

Azriel hummed and raised a brow, turning his head to gaze at you. He fought back a smile — he had found you so adorable. You had waddled, your belly large protruding your tiny stature. Your hand tucked in the crook of his elbow protectively.

Azriel had ensured you were in good hands during your pregnancy; and that he would always prioritize your health and safety. He would never let you go out without him, either himself or his shadows. He always had a hand on you — whether it be around your waist or, like now, your hand tucked into his elbow.

Your features glowed despite the exhaustion he knew you felt — you had looked so beautiful during your whole pregnancy and Azriel worshiped you like the Goddess you were to him.

He watched as your gaze went up to him, your head tilting slightly at the look he gave you. Azriel shook his head, “You know I'd be biased if you asked me, love…” he answered.

Azriel would choose blue, even if it was a girl or a boy, his siphon colors would be that room’s color.

He watched as you rolled your eyes, and felt your hand pat his forearm, “Why am I not surprised that, out of all the colors, you’d choose your siphon?”

The two of you walked into the paint shop, the doorbell ringing above you. You were greeted by a Fae, one who was shocked and nervous to meet the Spymaster and his wife.

Azriel patted your hand and slipped your hand from his elbow, “Go ahead my loves… I'll be here…” He watched you smile before following the Fae to the color room, and he watched with adoration.

“You can't leave me, (Y/N)…” he sobbed, grasping your flaccid hand in his, pressing a kiss on cold skin.

The room was deathly still, his sobs echoing in the loud shared room.

You had gone into labor hours ago, and that labor… was difficult on your weak body. The babe, as Madja had warned you and Azriel all those months ago, had taken a toll on your body. You had been sick and bedridden for most of the pregnancy — Madja had stressed for you to terminate the pregnancy — it was either you or the baby.

Azriel had fought for you to terminate the pregnancy; begged and cried you to.

He could live without the unborn child but without you?

Never.

He watched you cry, begged him to let you keep the babe — he listened to your bargains, and promises; he listened to you cry in the night whispering to the baby all the while rubbing your stomach.

He watched everything… but he couldn't lose you.

But you had been stubborn, wanting to keep the pregnancy — pushing it to term — despite the consequences of it.

And so when you went into labor, the amount of blood you lost… was too much for Madja to replenish with her powers. The baby that was born was already too blue to try to bring back alive. Azriel was by your side the whole labor, watching you push your body to the brink — all for the child.

He felt your pulse slow underneath his fingertips, his hazel eyes frantically trying to find yours as he watched them roll backwards.

“No…No!” he yelled, dropping your hand onto the mattress and cupping your cheeks, “My love… (Y/N)…” he whispered, leaning in to press his forehead against yours, trying to pull you from the call of death.

Azriel watched you smile up at him, your eyes focusing on him, crescenting as you looked up at him, “…Azzie…” you whispered.

He fought back tears as he nodded his head, “Hey, my love, yes, I’m here… I’m here…”

“I’m sorry…”

It was as if you knew… this would be the outcome of your decision.

“No… Don’t be sorry… Please don’t… Just… Please don’t leave me… You can’t leave me…”

He watched as your eyes roll again and he brought your face closer to his own, watching them focus on him again, “…I don’t want to… But, I’m so tired Az…”

Azriel felt a heart wrenching sob escape his throat. His thumb caressed your pulse point, feeling it slow more. He looked up at his High Lord and the Healer and both of them looked at him with a somber look.

A shake from his High Lord gave his answer.

The tears finally fell, as he looked back at you — and you back up at him. He watched your brows furrow in confusion as you stared at him.

All he did was shake his head, leaning down to press one final kiss on your lips.

“Sleep… My love… if you’re tired. I’ll wait for you to wake up…”

He felt you take one last breath, a smile tugging on your lips as you whispered, “I love you, Az…”

Azriel felt your body go limp in the bed, your head roll back and your pulse stop completely. He watched your eyes dull, that smile still on your features.

His body shook, and tears never ended as he pulled your body into his arms, cradling your head as he let out a cry, pressing his face into the crook of your neck — the final time he’d ever feel you against him.

Azriel never thought heart break would be so painful.

He stared at the tombstone, pulling out of his thoughts and memories to reach down and caress the marble stone.

“… Hi my love…” he greeted you, like usual, “It’s raining again… It seems that Valeris is in a typhoon of rain recently…”

Azriel sat himself down on the muddy ground, not caring if the mud and rain soaked through his clothes again.

He had sat there, talking to you about his day, what had happened recently with the family, what was going on with Valeris and Prythian in general. He talked for hours until he felt his voice go sore and his body shake due to the cold from the rain, but he didn’t leave… not until the skies turned dark.

Azriel laid himself down on the patch of dirt in front of your grave, laying on his back as he stared up at the sky. It seemed the rain ceased and the beautiful starry skies of Valeris peaked through the rain clouds.

He watched the stars twinkle, before a shooting star blazed through the sky before another one — much smaller — followed it.

“…Was that you, (Y/N)?” he whispered, thinking that those two fallen stars were you and the child, reaching out to him from the Havens above.

Azriel had been searching for signs, for the past two years of any sign of you in the Havens. Looking for signs that you were calling for him — looking for him. All he wanted to know was that you were out there.

And that shooting star was it.

He smiled and closed his eyes, “I’m coming back home to you…”

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #acotar angst #azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel acotar #( .inbox request : when you call me home )#( .inbox request )

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mrs-prentiss · 2 months ago

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Emily Prentiss x OC (Valerie Karter) Story

Emily’s Secret Life

Info : This is a WLW fan fiction it is OC based, I am writing the OC Valerie as a biracial (black and white woman) below is how I see her but you as the reader can change it to your liking!

Part One : Emily Prentiss x Valerie Karter

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“Emily Prentiss, as I live and breathe, miss me?” The voice was sultry and low as heels clacked into the bullpen. The woman turned heads for sure; even Penelope dragged her eyes across the woman's frame. She was decked head to toe in designer wear: nice-fitting black slacks, and a deep red blouse rolled up at the elbows. She had some buttons undone, showing a lace-fitting bra. It was apparent she had power and so much confidence.

The woman walked up the small steps and stood beside Emily in front of the railing that overlooked the team. She smiled innocently as the gray-haired woman introduced her. “This is Valerie Karter. She’s a, um-.. old friend. She’ll be helping us on a few cases to lighten our load. She knows how to do everything you do, including Penelope's technical analyst work. She's flexible and can help in every area.” She praised her as she spoke, and it caused Valeries’ eyes to wander across her figure in an old “friend's” way.

“ Praise me more…I love it,” Valerie whispered with a breathy chuckle. She turned to address Emily’s team fully. “Consider me your assistant and personal helper. Anywhere you need me, I’m yours. I have a few meetings outside of the FBI I’ll be handling every few days, but other than that, I’m all yours”. She could practically see the questions rolling off of their minds. Who was she? How did she know Emily? Where did she come from? What did she do for work exactly? How good was she at her job? More importantly, was she married? Straight? Gay? Kids? They needed to know.

Their questions came out rapidly: “What do you do?” - “Meetings with who? - “How do you know Emily?”. She couldn’t help but laugh upon hearing the questions. In the corner of her eye, Emily stood straight, ready to redirect their questions in almost a protective manner. She shifted on her feet slightly and decided to answer them all at one time: “I’m what people call a flex worker. I’m flexible in everything I do, and I work wherever I’m needed. CIA? FBI? Presidential help? Undercover? You name it, I've done it. I have meetings with classified people, sorry. Emily and I met when she worked in Interpol before returning to be your Chief. One more question, Penelope?” she said clearly as she crossed her arms

Penelope took her chance and spat out a question, “I have two more; how good are you? Why did you come to the BAU?” She arched an eyebrow at the colorful woman’s boldness and smiled. Penelope was cute and very different at that. “I’m so good that I was asked to come here several times before this and denied them every time. Why the BAU? You guys are a mess that, unfortunately, I’m here to clean up.” Emily cut in with a sharp clear of her throat. The woman's grey hair framed her face nicely, and it didn’t go unnoticed as Valereie stared at her admirably. “Valerie and I have some things to discuss in my office. In the meantime, you guys have case files that need to be finished.”

—

Upon entering Emily’s office, she heard Emily closing the door behind her and the lock clicking in a not-so-subtle manner. “You didn’t need to make an entrance, Val. They’re going to catch on,” Emily deadpanned. Emily studied Valerie as she walked around her office, inspecting the items and trinkets. “No photos of me? How disheartening, dear; what exactly will they catch on to? That you’re a closet Lesbian, Emily? Even you didn’t catch on soon enough, I’m not worried about them,” Valerie quipped with a grin.

“You are an asshole, you know that Val? I am not a closet- okay, so what if I am? Fuck off, I should’ve let you stay in Italy.” Emily snarked as she crossed her arms and sat in her chair, watching Valerie sit across from her. Valerie shrugged slightly as she leaned backward against the chair. “I told you no, I was comfortable in Italy. Working, might I add, and you begged me.”

“There was no begging,” Emily said factually as she looked away from her. Valerie let out a short laugh and leaned forward, taunting Emily's voice. “Really? It was something like please, Vally, please come to Quantico. I need your help. I need my girl—YOUR GIRL? WHAT DOES SHE MEAN YOUR GIRL?!?!” Both the women jumped as Penelope stood in the doorway and sharply closed the door behind her.

“Penelope….” Emily started with caution as she stood up from her chair, but instead, she was cut off by Penelope again. “No, no excuses about how you can’t tell me or that it’s nothing, and she meant friend. What did she mean? Do you not love me? Why do we have secrets? I have your cat!” Penelope was far off the rails as she ranted and went on a tangent about wanting to know. While Penelope spiraled, Emily stood beside Valerie, who also stood up; the grey-haired woman had a hand on Valerie's back, and she cleared her throat. “Penelope. I do love you, and I am going to tell you. Valerie is my wife.”

“Thanks for taking her cat; by the way, I am terribly allergic.” Valerie slid the comment in there with a shit-eating grin. She looked at Emily with a mischievous smile and a adoring look in her eyes.

Penelope stood there with gaped looking at the two women as if they were completely insane. She really couldn’t believe that one of her closest friends was married, and not only that but she was married to a woman. “Wait..Wife! You’re married!” A few seconds passed when Emily went to speak and Penelope cute her off

“Ah Ah No! You..You’re gay? No you’ve been with men ever since I’ve met you. Oh my gosh are you a closet lesbian? Oh that’s so cute! Here Here pretend to come out to me I’ll act surprised” Penelope said in a snarky tone as she placed her hands on her hips and eyed Emily trying to act intimidating.

Emilys eyes flickered between her wife’s who laughed softly and Penelopes who narrowed slightly “Oh you’re being serious..okay ah—Um Penelope I’m a lesbian and this is my wife Valerie” she said slowly. Penelope just so happened to be the calmest and nicest one on the team, which made her the scariest at the same time. So as soon as the words left Emily’s mouth, Emily kept speaking to ensure Penelope didn’t try to choke her with arts and crafts “Sit down, we’ll explain everything”

#emilyprentissxoc #criminal minds #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x oc

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bordysbae · 2 years ago

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Ethan and "that's the prettiest fan i've ever seen"

“unfamiliar faces”

ethan edwards x fem reader

word count: 0.8k

you decided to go to your first college hockey game since your friends have been begging you to come. you know a little about how hockey works, but you also know that umich goes crazy at hockey games. you arrive in a umich hoodie and a pair of jeans, your friends wearing similar outfits as well. instantly you’re met with tons of people in both student section and everywhere else in the stadium. when people say umich is a sports school, they really mean it.

“im so excited! i love hockey games” your friend valerie exclaims. “no you just love hockey boys” your other friend angelina retorts. “both of you love hockey boys, you guys kept telling me about how ‘hot luke hughes and ethan edwards’ are” you chuckle, making both the girls laugh. “you’ll be saying the same thing when they get out on the ice” angelina says. you guys were about 3 rows up from the ice, and you couldn’t really see if the hype over the hockey boys was real. eventually the game starts and you realize that hockey isn’t so boring after all.

during the game ethan couldn’t help but notice a new face in the student section. not that he pays too much attention to the crowd during games, but the hockey games don’t get as many people as the other sports, so there’s usually the same crowd at every game. “mark, did you see that new girl in the crowd?” ethan asks during intermission. “no? what girl, why would i know who’s never been to a game before” “well i’ve seen her friends before, and i’ve never seen her. she’s three rows up from the ice. i’ll point her out when we’re both on the bench” “yeah okay whatever man” mark chuckles, earning an elbow in the rib from ethan. eventually ethan gets the chance to point you out to mark, “look her right there!” “oh yeah she is cute. i don’t know how you’ll end up talking to her though” mark chuckles before getting onto the ice.

after the game, val and angelina need to use the restroom, so you stand outside of the door waiting for them. as you’re waiting you hear someone calling out to you, “girl with the y/h/c hair, gray hoodie!” you look up and see a very tall boy frantically making his way over to you. “um, am i in trouble?” you chuckle nervously. “no no no don’t worry. my friend thinks you’re really pretty, he plays on the hockey team. i’m injured so i didn’t play today, so he asked me to come find you. i know this might sound strange but could you come with me so i can sneak you in the back to talk with him?” the boy asks awkwardly. “oh um, yeah sure i need to grab my friends first though” “alright go right ahead” he says as you enter the bathroom. you see your friends washing their hands and you frantically try to explain what’s going on, and they start freaking out. “i told you ethan was checking you out!” val exclaims, as you three quickly exit the bathroom. “oh my god that’s luke hughes!” angelina loudly whispers as you three approach the tall curly headed boy.

he leads you guys to a hallway that has a locked door, and he swipes his athlete badge across the censor. “alright cmon in, oh and by the way i’m luke, in case you didn’t know” he smiles as he pulls back the door, gesturing you guys to go in first. “i’m y/n, this is val and that’s angelina” you say with a smile. as you’re walking in you see a brunette boy standing at the other end of the hallway, leaning against the wall, his hockey bag is on the floor by his feet. “eddy i found your mystery woman!” luke chuckles as all four of you meet halfway with who you now know as ‘eddy.’ “thanks bud, but uh could we have some alone time actually?” ethan asks and luke nods, taking both val and angelina farther down the hall. “hi, im ethan. i’ve never seen you at a game before and i thought you were really pretty” ethan says shyly, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “oh that’s so sweet! and yeah this was my first hockey game. how’d you know i was new?” “i usually see the same reoccurring faces at the games, hockey isn’t really the biggest sport at michigan.” ethan chuckles. “yeah that’s true. you know, my friends kept claiming that they saw you looking at me but i thought they were crazy. i guess they were right” you smile. “yeah i guess they were. could i get your number? i’d love to take you out sometime.” he smiles, making your cheeks turn pinkish. “of course!” you say grabbing your phone from your back pocket. ethan types in his number and you do the same on his phone. “i’ll text you” he says, his heart racing. “bye ethan” you smile, your heart racing as well. maybe hockey games aren’t so bad after all.

#i hate this i’m sorry #this is cringe tbh but whatever #ethan edwards #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards imagine #ethan edwards blurb #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #michigan hockey #umich hockey #luke hughes

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devils-dares · 2 years ago

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Sunday Morning

summary: a soft, sweet sunday morning!

pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader

warnings: fluff, dancing, copious amounts of physical affection and kisses, one allusion to smut

wordcount: 643

a/n: fair warning, i wrote this in like twenty-ish minutes total so it's probably not the best HOWEVER i love it.

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The smell of waffles flooded your nose as you stepped out of the bedroom in nothing but Matt’s t-shirt, which goes down to your mid-thighs, and some underwear. He’s humming some tune in the kitchen, gray sweats slung low on his hips as he whisks the batter.

“Good morning.” You say, and are met with a bright smile.

“G’morning, I’m making breakfast.”

“Yeah I can smell it.” He laughs and you smile. Walking over to him, you rest your head on his bare chest, one of his hands resting on your lower back as the other pours the batter into the waffle maker with incredible control.

He puts the empty batter bowl down, focusing all his attention on you now. His hands move up and down your back after creeping underneath the shirt. The calloused skin warms your back, thumbs gently digging into any tight spots.

“Always so soft.” He hums, chin dipping down so his lips can kiss your neck. His hands move to your hips, attempting to hold you tight to lift you onto the counter, but your hisses stop him.

“What is it?” He asks, genuine concern written across his face.

“You weren’t exactly gentle when you came home last night, Matty.” You giggle, face turning red from remembering how he came home, shedding his suit down the stairs as he practically growled out your name.

Your hand reached up to the crook of your neck, skin slightly raw from where his stubble dragged across it last night. He feels where your hand is and kisses you softly there.

“I was a bit rough, hm?” You laugh as his fingers tickle your sides, and his lips curl up into a grin against your skin. He presses up against you, the two of you impossibly close with his hands wound around your back.

“Hi.” You say, hands running through Matt’s hair which makes him yawn.

“Hi.” He says, pulling back to smile at you before peppering kisses all over your face. You laugh and he laughs with you, finally kissing your smiling lips. A ding separates the two of you, signaling the waffles were finished.

“Waffle time.” You say longingly. He shakes his head at you, getting the butter and syrup.

-----

After breakfast, the two of you are standing in the kitchen, telling jokes and giggling like children.

“I,” he starts mischievously, “have an idea.” He walks over to the box sitting on the side table near the window, pulling out a record.

“What are you doing?” You ask, laughing as he places the vinyl on the record player with a flourish.

“I’m asking you,” Valerie by Amy Winehouse starts playing, “to dance with me.”

“You cannot be serious right now.”

“Deadly.” He takes your hand and pulls you into the open space in front of the bedroom door. With one hand holding your own and a hand on your waist, he spins you around, swaying with the upbeat music. The sound of your laughs ring out over the music as he swings you around, planting a kiss on you when he brings you up from what you imagined looked like an overly-dramatic dip.

The two of you start singing along, out of breath voices trying their damndest to keep up with the song. By the time it ends, you two are gasping for air.

“That was amazing.” You say.

“Anything for you. I love hearing you laugh.” He says, wiping away a thin layer of sweat from his forehead and then brushing your hair out of your face.

“I love you.” You say, squealing in surprise when he picks you up by the waist and spins you once more.

“And I love you so much.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you to infinity.”

“That’s a cheap copout.” He shrugs.

“It works.” You smile, kissing him again.

“That it does.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x male!reader #matt murdock x male reader #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #daredevil #marvel

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weshney · 11 months ago

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Portal Panic Chapter 18

The Big Kahuna

Danny Phantom x Boku no Hero Academia

Ao3 | FFn | Youtube Audiobook

---------

"I guess I should start with the big kahuna. I'm not from this dimension."

Truth.

Oh.

"Where I'm from, all humans are quirkless, and ghosts are the ones with superpowers."

Truth. Truth.

Oh shit.

This was not AT ALL how Nezu had expected this conversation to start.

---------

Artwork this chapter!

Original line art by @mha-stuff-i-guess found here, colored by me~!

Whole artwork by @xxxnightcorequeenxxx found here!

Tags:

Mystery, Angst and Humor, Misunderstandings, No Romance, Friendship, Swearing, Slow Build, Rare Characters, Author Regrets Nothing, Except When The Characters Push Me Around And Give Me More Work, Like 5 Different Major Interwoven Plots At This Point

College Age Danny Fenton (20), Danny Fenton Gets a Hug, Or Three, Mostly From the Same Person But It's Fine, Danny's Fenton's Clones Are Little Shits, But Just to Him, Meddling Clockwork (Danny Phantom), Ghost Obsessions But They're Really Just Hyper-Fixation, Valerie Gray Jack & Maddie Fenton Know Danny's Secret, Supportive Jazz Jack and Maddie Fenton, dyslexic Jack Fenton, Phantom Planet Who?, no beta reader we die like danny

Mineta Minoru Doesn't Exist, Pre-Overhaul Arc (My Hero Academia), Well Kind Of, Midoriya Inko is a Ray of Sunshine, Bakugou Katsuki Needs a Hug, Eventual Happy Ending, Kirishima Eijirou is a Good Friend, One Main OC Needed For PlotTM, Protective Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, All Might's Trying Not To Have Heart Attack Buuuut, Retired Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Loosely Follows BNHA Canon, But in the Background

#portal panic #danny phantom #my hero academia #dp crossover #bnha #dp x bnha #mha fanart #bnha fanart

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gabbi-gabz-a-lot · 4 months ago

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haey so for my fellow niche shippers out there i made playlist.

So if anyone was wanting a Playlist dedicated to Future Valerie Gray and Evil Future Danny from Dany Phantom: The Ultimate Enemy, here ya go:

yes its 18 hrs long and i am a perfectly well adjusted 30yr old why do you ask?

also imma shamelessly plug my fic here. I'm in the process of making a drabble series based on the playlist which can be read here:

PS.

I'm also in the process of writing a real fic with these two that I'll post sometime in the future. With beta readers and everything (woo fancy) but that's still a ways off. (i might post a sneak peak at some point. if yall are interested)

#dp dark gray #dark danny #dan phantom #valerie dp #valerie gray #playlist #fanfic #shout out to me and the 5 other freaks that are into this shit #dark gray

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corn-fanfiction · 2 months ago

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Barker (Valery Legasov x Reader) pt 3

Cw: mentions of dead dogs

A/N: what if I said I was crazy what then

Fic under cut

A little over a year later and you were back in Pripyat. The consequences of this short lived colony was lost on most, and on those who know, it was merely swept aside. Any fates tied to the nuclear undoing of that night in April are sealed in the concrete, the sand, the boron- the graphite and the air around them. There was no one left to care who already don't, or who cannot.

It was a late night of drinking and reading for you. Once again at the hotel, you ended up ignoring your book in favor of staring out the window at a starless night. You saw easily the fountain courtyard where you and Legasov had walked with the dogs. You'd cried when you heard about their systematic execution, though you understood the ordinance. No longer little barkers littering the streets. No one left to place small hopes on.

A knock at the door and you started. You had to blink and rub your eyes from how they've glazed over. You replaced your glasses and opened your hotel door to none other than Legasov himself. He stood straight in that way he did, like he was bracing for something.

"Oh," you said quietly, then cleared the lack of speaking from your throat. "Good evening, Comrade Legasov."

It hadn't been long, but it'd been long enough since you'd seen him that to call him Valery felt inappropriate. He noticed this, or noticed something, and looked at the floor.

"Eh, yes, evening. I was wondering if..." But he looked down the hall before he finished his sentence. You tapped the doorframe and bit the inside of your cheek in indecision.

"Would you like to come inside?" You offered, the strain of unease apparent in your voice. If there had been cause for paranoia at the start of all this, then that had increased tenfold to this moment in time. Legasov nodded and you let him in, closing and locking the door behind him. You pressed your eye to the peephole and waited to see if anyone passed down the hall. No one did.

"Do you think they still have the rooms bugged?" You asked as you tore yourself from the door. Legasov had made himself comfortable on the sofa and held his head in one hand.

"They do or they don't. It doesn't matter. No one's listening for tomorrow."

You watched him in silence. He lit a cigarette. He was already graying and his skin was developing deeper marks. He had been closer than the rest of you, save Boris, so of course it would show faster. That didn't ease the ache of your heart any.

Grabbing a bottle of liquor and two glasses, you joined him on the sofa. You set up the glasses carefully and poured you both a hearty amount. You nudged the glass his way when he didn't immediately go for it.

"To the workers of the world," you said in a half-hearted toast, trying to coax even a smile from him. He didn't give one, but drank anyway. You took a sip.

"I've spoken to Ulana," he said after his drink. You licked your lips dry and replaced your glass slowly.

"Oh?"

"I assume you read about Vienna."

"I did."

He couldn't look at you. You wanted to make him look at you, but you didn't. And he didn't say anything else.

"What are you wanting me to say?" You asked in earnest. He tilted his head towards you.

"Anything. Condemn me or put me at ease. Tell me what you would've done."

The desperation forced its way through his words and you understood then. He pressed his hands between his knees and stared at the carpet. You cleared your throat.

"Any one of those would be dishonest."

Your response was intriguing enough that he finally looked at you with those eyes wide with curiosity.

"Even the last?"

"How could I possibly know what I would've done? I didn't have to do it. I can perhaps say what the right thing would've been, but even then... What does it matter?"

He rolled something invisible between his flat hands. "It matters."

You watched him. "You're going to change your testimony."

"Khomyuk thinks I should."

"And Boris?"

Valery chuckled. "You think I've brought this to him?"

"I don't know what to think. About any of this. Are you hoping to get the same answer from me and have a majority rule? So that you won't have to go to Boris?"

The look in his eyes was one of hurt and you hated that you caused it, but there was a sudden and quiet anger that had grown in you.

"I didn't mean-"

"Yes, I was angry when I read what you said in Vienna, because we sacrificed, we still sacrifice so much to learn the truth. Lives that were lost- our lives. But I also can't preach righteousness because I'm not you. Not even in that moment but ever. There's a reason it was you and not any one of us. So no, I won't condemn you but I won't free you of it, either. And if you ask me what I would do tomorrow, I'd tell you to leave because you know, you know I can't say."

Tears welled in your eyes and you forced another drink down your throat. Valery watched you in silence before he inevitably did the same. After a moment, he cleared his throat. You were both doing that a lot.

"But if it were you?"

You found yourself laughing at that, even if it was twinged with cruelty. "I'd tell them the truth, tell them all to go to hell, then damn the state in the same breath. How's that?"

Suddenly you were craving a cigarette so you took his that had been sitting half forgotten in an ashtray on the table. You inhaled deeply and cradled your head.

"But that's why it's not me, isn't it?" You murmured and blew the smoke.

"I'm a coward," he said quietly. You lifted your head.

"Maybe. Maybe not. What are you afraid of?"

"Being shot is at the forefront."

"Sounds reasonable enough."

"You, Ulana, and Boris suffering similar fates."

"Not ideal," you took another drag and passed the cigarette back to Valery. "But?"

He breathed, allowed the smoke to leave his lips lazily as he set his head back against the wall. He looked at you.

"What's a bullet to a dead world?"

You matched his position but pulled your legs up onto the sofa.

"Whatever the right decision is...I think that's the one you'll make tomorrow."

Valery nodded, his eyes wandering to the window over your shoulder. He rubbed his mouth.

"I miss the dogs."

"Me too."

"Do you still follow Khomyuk?"

You smiled a little at that. "Less so, now. Mostly for security's sake; we don't want any prying eyes and ears to get the wrong idea. But after being here, some doors opened up, so to speak."

"Well, there had to be some good."

You shook your head and took the cigarette back.

"Not in lies. Never in lies."

"You tell on yourself."

You nodded at him. "As do you. The question is, what's to be done?"

You smoked, passed it back. He smoked, stubbed it out in the ashtray.

"Tell them the truth. Prevent this from happening again."

"Or try to, at least."

"Well now, don't make me doubt."

The lighthearted nature the conversation was taking caused you both to smile. You rubbed your eyes. "Sorry. I'm just tired. Ready to be finished but knowing it never really will be."

"Especially..."

"Yes. What future are you sacrificing?"

It was a bold question, to say the least, but it didn't seem to shock Valery too much. Perhaps coming from you, it read differently. Perhaps he simply didn't care much anymore.

"My career. My friends."

His eyes found yours and did not leave.

"Irreplicable, but not irreplaceable."

"No," he shook his head. "Speaking the naked truth of it tomorrow but then being forced into silence for the remainder of my life, no matter how short it will be, is punishment enough. Never to speak it to those who understand it best, and can do the best with it..."

You put a hand on the arm that was propped upon the back of the sofa.

"Try not to overthink it. What you conjure up in your head is of no consequence to the truth. It can't be until you know."

"One could say the same for hoping."

Your hand slid to his and fingers found fingers.

"Well...then let us have the small hopes. I was thinking of those dogs earlier- the hope had to go somewhere, didn't it?"

"Space, science, and for what? To say we did and we can?"

"Isn't that what it's about?"

"I don't know. If I ever knew, I don't anymore."

"Well, we know the truth, and we know the right thing, don't we. To save as many lives as possible. If it's not about achievement, it has to be about advancement. To move forward."

Valery was now worrying his hand across his chin in a move fueled by unadulterated anxiety.

"I wish you could share this burden. That I could help you carry it. I will be there. It's the greatest measure I can offer, little as it is."

He squeezed your hand.

"No," he mumbled into the hand that graced his face. "It's just enough. Thank you." After a brief moment of silence he spoke again. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Life after this. You have more ahead of you, after all."

The thought saddened you. Not the life you would probably have, but that he assumed he wouldn't.

"I'm not sure, to be perfectly honest. More work, maybe settling down, but..." You chuckled in spite of yourself. "I run. I chase and I don't know if I'm meant for that sort of life."

"You could be."

"And you don't think you could be?"

Valery sighed. "I'm afraid it may be too late for me. Besides, I don't want to find someone only to leave them behind soon."

You watched him in silence. He smiled with every word the smile of someone speaking in full emotional honesty. A smile of acceptance, even if it was bitter.

"If it was something you wanted," he said. "It would be a shame not to try. And I, for one, think that some individual out there would be more than lucky to encounter you."

You blushed furiously and fiddled with your glasses, took a drink, did most but look at him.

"For what it's worth, and I mean this, I consider myself lucky to have encountered you," you said.

You knew, you both knew, that anything in this room was going nowhere. It had the appearance of impracticality, but how much of that was true? What was practical anymore

And him. Valery could not believe that time and time again you treated him with so much vulnerability and warmth, not to mention the physical affection when no one was looking. You had so much to do and he... he didn't have much ahead of him, did he? Especially not now. He was content with his cat and his career. He had only entertained this sort of emotion when he was younger. He'd settled with himself that he was awkward, generally bad at conversation, not very interesting- and you were none of those things.

A yawn seized you and broke the moment. Valery sat up on the couch and pulled his hand from yours.

"It's getting late, and I've kept you enough," he said, and stood before you could potentially argue. Though, what would you say? That you didn't want him to leave because you would miss him, and that come tomorrow, you may never see each other again?

He walked to the door and you followed. No, you couldn't keep him. Not without making things complicated beyond repair. Still, you held his arm as his hand grasped the door handle.

"Valery," you said softly. He turned to you. Hesitantly, with a knot in your stomach, you reached up and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "You are a brilliant man, and a good one. No matter what happens after tomorrow, I want you to remember that."

If he heard you after the kiss, you couldn't say. He simply stared at you, mouth agape. For a moment you feared you'd overstepped, which you certainly did, but that the affections weren't returned in the slightest. He closed his mouth finally, and looked at the floor.

"I- thank you," he said. He nodded to himself. "Yes."

You both smiled.

"Well, goodnight," you said. He opened the door.

"Goodnight."

#fanfiction #chernobyl hbo #valery legasov #ulana khomyuk #hal still has jared harris brainrot #jared harris #boris shcherbina

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pettyprocrastination · 4 years ago

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Rip Out Our Seams and Stitch Us Together

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Valerie Lord x Black!Fem!Reader

Chapter Five

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Profanity, mirror sex, choking, kind of face-fucking? a touch of voyeurism, oral-male receiving, penetrative sex, Mean Maxwell fuckin’ lmao, office sex, angry sex, how in God’s name did we get here I am horrible at writing smut so i just want to say i’m SORRY.

Chapter Summary: You take the measurements for the richest family in D.C, Valerie is surprised by her how quickly her son has taken a shining to you and Maxwell has a late night at the office.

Tag List: @captainsamwlsn @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @cinewhore @this-cat-is-dea @holographic-carmen @honestlystop @favoriteff-allcelebs @teaofpeach

Chapters: 1/2/3/4/

“The Lords are coming by tomorrow.” Cassandra looked up from the book open at the register.

“But Mrs.Lord was just in yesterday.” She told you.

“Not just her this time.” You finished off the seam on the ground in front of you as you spoke. “All of them are coming in, her husband and son, the whole gang of rich folk will be here.”

Ever since Valerie stepped into your shop late at night four weeks ago, she made herself a common visitor. Oftentimes she’d waltz in, plop herself down onto a chair and begin to complain about Maxwell’s secretary with the horrid voice or one of her friends who was less of a friend and more of a pain in the ass.

You didn’t know how becoming the friend of a heiress meant her throwing herself into your lap everyday to gossip about other rich people but hey, you weren’t complaining. She was pretty good company when the dust settled.

Three days ago she had called your store, and told you she, Maxwell, and Alastair would be coming in to get measurements taken so you could get the mock-up of their outfits done with their approval to move on to the finished version.

Before she could say anything else you had asked about her son.

“What does he like?”

“What?”

“What’s he like?” You asked, as you spoke your hand picked up the needle once more and began to hem the dress in your lap. “You know, DuckTales, Transformers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I’ve got some stuff I always bring out when kids come into the shop but I don’t know how rich kids work. Do I just hand him money and call him sir?”

“Ha ha.” She droned. “You know if life as a seamstress doesn’t work out, you should pursue a career in comedy, you’d flourish.”

“Aw Val, I couldn’t!” You cooed. “You’d miss me too much.”

You heard her scoff on the other line. From across the store Cass looked at you like you’d sprouted a second head.

“Nonetheless.” She said slowly. “Alastair isn’t into traditional children’s activities. He enjoys chess with his tutors, reading, and playing the cello.”

You fought the urge to ask if these were things he liked to do or things his parents wanted him to do.

Maybe rich kids were just built differently.

“I’m just calling to tell you certain adjustments must be made for my son.” She explained, in a tone so formal you hadn’t heard it since you first met her.

“Uh sure.” You sat up, concerned. “What do you need?”

“Certain textures make him extremely uncomfortable for clothing, so be aware that the lining will have to be a soft, smoother material.”

You sat back, observing the swatches already laid out in the backroom. You could grab a few more of softer materials for him to feel and see which one he liked the most. You already assumed as such, since he’s a kid and you remembered how much you hated wearing your church dress because of how itchy it was. “ Anything else need to be done?”

“He can get overstimulated if places are too loud or crowded at times, but since your store hardly has any customers in it.” You could hear the smirk on her face over the phone and groaned. “I doubt that will be a problem.”

“It’s my pleasure to be of your assistance.” You snipped. A moment of silence passed between the pair of you. “But uh, seriously. Don’t worry about it. I’ve made clothes for kids and people with touch aversions before. No sweat.”

“Thank you.” She breathed out. “Really Stitches, I appreciate it.”

At her praise your lips curled into a soft smile. “It’s no problem Val. One question though.”

“Yes?”

“Who the hell names their kid Alastair?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that Stitches, I’ll see you tomorrow.” A dial tone met your ears and you called out to Cassandra.

“Do we have a chess board in the back?”

---

Valerie walked into her son’s room, clearing her throat so both him and his tutor looked up at her.

“Alastair honey, can I talk to you for a moment?” The boy, only eight, nodded and closed his workbook before standing. The tutor however, shot a hand out to grab her son’s shoulder.

“Mrs. Lord.” The tutor, a man graying at the temples who wore ties so bland she’d rather wear a nose, shot her a condescending smile. “I thought we agreed on not interrupting Alastair’s lessons. It’s bad for his focus.”

“Mr. Lanston.” She shot back in the same sickly sweet tone as she tapped a manicured nail against the wall. “Who’s house is this?”

The man swallowed. “Mr.Lor-”

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head side to side as if scolding a dog. “For a tutor you seem to be quite fond of giving out the wrong answers. So I will ask you again, whose house is this?”

The tutor shrunk back. “Yours.”

“Correct. And who is it that you work for?”

“You, Mrs.Lord.” He said meekly.

“Correct again! Now since this is my house and it is my son you are teaching, I will speak to him if I please. And if you try and insult my son’s intellect by saying a simple chat with his mother will throw him off course, I will throw you out onto the street. Do you understand me?”

The man’s mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water.

“I asked you a question Mr.Lanston.” Her hand tapped against the Cartier watch on her wrist expectantly. “I expect an answer back.”

“Of course Mrs.Lord.” He stammered out, before turning to her son who just barely came to his hip. “I’m so sorry Mr.Lord.”

“That’s okay.” He answered simply, before taking his mother's hand in his and walking out of the room.

Alastair Lord was eight years old, had his mother’s bright blue eyes and his father’s dark brown hair (Maxwell visited a hairstylist regularly but would never admit it). He had already skipped a grade but his parents insisted on keeping track of his studies, even during the summer. Maxwell did it in an attempt to feel less guilty about being stuck at work all day instead of being with his son, Valerie did it so nobody would ever get the chance to use her son’s intellect as a weapon against his own standing.

The Lords didn’t agree on much. But one thing they did agree on was that they loved their son more than anything in the world.

“Do you still want to go to the gala with us in September?” She asked him. Her son’s eyes flicked out to the large glass window that proudly displayed their immaculate lawn, a bird flew along the clear pane before flying up and out of sight. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll go.” He said simply. He squeezed his mother’s hand in his with a small smile. “I like going to those fancy parties, you always wear pretty dresses.” He frowned, looking down at the floor for a moment. “I don’t like it when those old ladies try to touch my hair and kiss my cheek though.”

Alastair hated physical affection from those he didn’t know. The last business party of Maxwell’s he went to, a man’s wife tried to give him what she thought was a friendly kiss on the cheek because he was “such a darling little boy!”. Alastair ripped himself away from her in a panic, to which she then got offended and insisted to speak with his mother about his “awful manners.”

When Maxwell came to find his son clinging to his mother’s leg with tears in his eyes, he promptly had the couple thrown out and cut off business ties with the woman’s husband on account of her awful manners.

From then on Alastair’s parents made sure he knew that if he was uncomfortable with a situation, he was to tell them and they would put an end to it immediately.

“Your father and I are going to go see a seamstress to get measurements done for the gala. Would you come with us so we can get a suit made for you as well?”

Alastair looked up at his mother, blue eyes shining and ultimately passive at her question.

“Sure.”

------

It was late at night when he came into his son’s room. Alastair was already in bed, nuzzled under his sheets and head resting against his pillow. Maxwell gently rapped his knuckles against the door before entering, his son’s eyes blinked open. It was always a shock how much they looked like Valerie's.

“How’s the tutoring going?” Maxwell already knew the answer, Alastair excelled in every subject, but he simply wanted to hear his son speak to him.

“Good.” His son replied. “Mr.Lanston said if I keep studying hard I might be able to skip another grade.”

Maxwell sat on the edge of his bed. “Would you like to skip another grade?”

Alastair was already a grade ahead, his teachers would message his parents about how well behaved and smart he was. But Alastair hardly ever spoke about his own experiences at school, about his friends or anything other than his classes.

“I don’t know.” the boy shifted for a moment, furrowing his brows in frustration and it was moments like this that he truly did look like his mother. “Mr.Lanston says it’s good for me to stay ahead of other but-” He looked off into the window of his room, a small sliver of moonlight peeking through the blue curtains. “Fifth grade sounds kind of fun, I heard the history teacher is really interesting and takes us on fun field trips.”

Part of Maxwell, the part still drilled into his head by his mother, nagged that he was sending the boy to that school to learn not go on ridiculous field trips. The other part of him, the part that shone when Alastair called him dad, felt guilt when he saw how apprehensive his son was in telling him how he felt.

Maxwell smiled, reached out to ruffle his son’s hair that was damn near a carbon copy of his own (before he got it dyed of course). “Then you’ll stay right where you are champ.”

“Thanks dad.”

The older lord frowned, before sternly pointing a finger at his son. “That’s Mr.Dad to you, young man.”

His son promptly groaned and threw his blanket over his face. “That joke still isn’t funny!” Even at his disgust, Maxwell could hear his son’s muffled giggles through the blanket and smiled.

“Humor is subjective, son.” Maxwell stood up from the bed, knees popping loudly as he did. Jesus, he was getting old. “Goodnight Alastair.”

Maxwell was already out of his son’s room and halfway down the hall when a tiny voice peeped out.

“Goodnight dad.”

-----

“So what exactly does his son like?” Cassandra stood at the register, head laying in the palm of her hand as she leaned against the counter. The back room had been set full with different fabrics for them to see and either confirm or reject. Which in the classic Lord fashion meant they will either toss it at you with a stiff “this will do” or tell you it’s the ugliest thing in the world.

You sighed. “Apparently he likes to read, play chess and the cello.” You looked toward the old checkers board set out and shrugged. “That was the closest thing I had so lets hope he isn’t as stuck up as his father or dramatic as his mother.”

“Speaaaaking of which.” Cassandra looked up with an excited grin. “You and Mrs.Lord are like, best friends now right?”

You thought about all the times she paraded into your store before throwing herself into the nearest chair (or your lap) before complaining about her day like a soap opera star.

“Well I wouldn’t say best friends, but we’ve certainly gotten closer.”

“What’s she like? Has she taken you shopping? Have you seen her house? Is she as mean as everybody says she is?”

You pulled back for a moment, thinking. “She’s nice for a rich lady, no we haven’t gone shopping and I don’t think we ever will, I haven’t seen her house which once again I don’t think will ever happen, and honestly she insults me a lot but I think it’s her way of showing affection at this point.”

Cassandra giggled. “Like a cat?”

You thought about a cat- a fickle creature that will hiss and scratch in one second, and then demand all of your attention right after.

“You know what? That’s actually a pretty spot on comparison.”

The jingle of a bell met your ears before a stern voice sounded out.

“My god do you people not know what a broom is?”

You turned around, watching Maxwell enter your store with a crinkled nose.

“I know what a broom is well enough rich boy, why don’t I go get one so I can shove it up your-”

Cassandra cleared her throat loudly before motioning to the tiny child at Maxwell’s side.

“Oh, uh-” You realized the boy must've just seen you threaten his father. “Hey little dude. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.” The boy responded. Alastair’s voice was just as tiny as he was. He had his mother’s eyes and father’s nose, but his hair was so dark it made you wonder which one of his parents bleached their hair.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, mam.”

Prim posture, perfect manners, not a single hair out of place. He struck you less as a kid and more as a robot but you bit your tongue before smiling back.

“No need for fancy titles with me, little lord. You can call me Stitches.”

Alastair wrinkled his nose, a gesture that made him look so much like his father you wanted to laugh. “That’s a weird name.”

Valerie tutted at her son, blue eyes cast down in disappointment. “Alastair! Don’t be rude.”

“He isn’t wrong.” Maxwell waved off his wife’s scolding of their son. “Besides, I believe we came here to get actual work done on whatever horrid outfits you're making for the gala?”

“Of course.” You turned on your heel, leading them to the backroom where multiple mirrors lined the wall. “I’d hate to take up too much of your time. You’re a busy man after all, I’m sure you’d rather be off making your secretary cry or something equally as important.”

Maxwell rolled his eyes and shucked off his jacket, ignoring the twinge of annoyance he felt at even the mention of his secretary, someone you didn’t even know grated him so horribly.

“Well we can’t all run rotten, hole-in-the-wall shops like this that just beg to be robbed.” He turned a sly eye to you with his nose tilted up. “Some of us have standards after all.”

You smiled. “I suppose you're right about that one Mr.Lord, I doubt my skills will live up to your expectations.” You wrapped the measuring tape around his bicep, using it to tug him so close his powerful facade melted into one of shock.

“And yet-” Your voice curled in his ear like a tempting call, your eyes so focused on taking note of the measurement of his arm Maxwell hoped you didn’t hear his breath catch.

“-here you are.”

Valerie looked up from the fabric swatches in her hand to notice the way Maxwell stared at you while you were blissfully unaware. It was hungry, surprised and oh so desperate. The same way she looked at you.

All while you busied yourself with his measurements, unaware of the inner workings between the billionaire and his wife.

Valerie was pulled from her head when her son handed her a swatch of fabric, a royal blue in color and soft knit against her skin.

“This one is nice.”

She smiled at her son. Out of the corner of her eye she saw you wrap the tape measure around her husband’s chest. She reached down to playfully tug on the collar of his shirt, also a deep royal blue.

“You’ll look lovely in it sweetheart.”

The conversation between you and his father was not nearly as loving.

“Do you have to play such obnoxious music?”

You didn’t bother to look up at Maxwell when he snipped back, you simply focused on the tape in your hands and the measurement of his chest which only made him even angrier.

Obnoxious, what a perfect word to describe you.

The shirts, the tattoos, everything about you was just so...loud.

His eyes flicked forward when he felt your fingers ghost over his chest. Mirrors lined each wall, most likely so your customers could see what the clothes looked like on them from each angle. But as you leaned down to measure his inseam, his thoughts went other places.

Places they definitely shouldn’t have with his wife and son in the same room.

“Do you have to wear such disgusting cologne?”

Maybe it was your attitude, such defiance nobody openly showed him in fear of losing their job, or the fact that you were so different than the tucked in, prim-and-proper future trophy wives he fucked, or maybe it was simply the fact that your ass looked phenomenal in those jeans, but Maxwell couldn’t help but imagine fucking you in front of those mirrors.

He wondered if you’d be loud, head thrown back and calling out his name as he fucked into you without mercy, without care. Maybe you’d be shy, you were so stubborn after all. Perhaps you’d bite your lip, trying to keep your noises stifled so you didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how good he made you feel. Maxwell wouldn’t allow that of course, he’d never admit it but he liked having his ego stroked almost as much as his cock. He wouldn’t hesitate to grab your jaw, forcing you to look forward at yourself in the mirrors.

‘We’re the only ones here.’ His breath fanning out over your neck would make you shudder as you stared at your reflection just as he did. Seeing the way your tits bounced with each thrust and the ways your legs trembled and shook like those of a newborn. His pride swelled at the notion that if his arm wasn’t wrapped tight around your waist and gripping you close, you would’ve fallen to the floor by now.

‘Let me hear you.’ He grunted into your neck as your whimpers got louder until you were all but shouting his name. ‘Good girl.’

“It’s revolting really.”

The sinful painting in his mind was torn to shreds when your haughty voice cut through it like a hot blade.

He blinked owlishly, you stood in front of him, tape measure no longer against him but thrown over your shoulder while you crossed your arms.

“What?”

“Your cologne.” You explained with a smirk. “It’s like trying to take measurements in a chemical factory. A little goes a long way Maxwell.” You gave him a sarcastic pat on the shoulder, one he was too distracted to push off because the way his name rolled off your lips.

You had never said his name before.

As quick as the interaction was, you turned to Valerie and Alastair, both sitting at the table behind you. You smiled and held a welcoming hand out.

“You ready little man?”

Alastair looked at his mother, who nodded her head and he slid off his chair to hop onto the pedestal his father previously stood on top of. His father took a seat next to his wife who said nothing.

They both watched their son raise his arms as you held up the tape measure to him with a smile, you were saying something to him, most likely about school or his summer break. Valerie appreciated when you asked her about his interests to make a connection, but knew that was less than likely. Alastair wasn’t one to make connections, something she wondered if he got from his father by instinct or something that was drilled into him by his grandmother.

Before she had been banned from coming to their house.

“I’ll be working late tonight.” Maxwell told his wife. He knew she didn’t really care, their marriage was ten years of working late nights. Telling her at this point was just a courtesy.

“Will your secretary be working as well?”

Maxwell noted the sly dig toward Delilah, but didn’t care enough about the woman to defend her.

“If she wasn’t I wouldn't have hired her.”

Valerie ignored her husband in favor of the scene in front of her. She watched as you held the tape to her son’s leg, nodding your head as he spoke at length while you took his measurements. To say his mother was surprised would be an understatement, he hardly talked to his parents. Let alone people he’s only just met.

Maybe something about you just brought out that side of the Lords.

“Alrighty, you're all good Alastair.” The youngest Lord hopped off the little step and you looked toward his mother with a jut of your chin. “You're up, Val.”

Maxwell looked toward his wife with a raised brow, mouthing her nickname in confusion. She was too busy taking your hand as you stepped onto the pedestal to notice.

“So-” You wrapped the tape measure around her waist, mindful not to let your hands linger. “-how the hell did you two make such a sweet kid like Alastair?”

Valerie smiled at your reflection and ignored the way her heart jumped when you pulled the measuring tape just beneath the swell of her chest. “I’m not sure if that was an insult on my parenting or my personality.”

“Oh definitely an insult on your personality, without a doubt.” You responded seriously, but the tilt of your lips lent it to a gentle tease. “You must be doing something right because that kid is better behaved than you and your husband.” You looked up for a moment and she held her breath.

“Or should I be giving this praise to some poor underpaid nanny you torture?”

Valerie scoffed. “Oh please, Miriam is hardly underpaid and she doesn’t do a damn thing right. I don’t know why we keep her around these days.”

You snorted. “Miriam?” The tape measure pressed to the side of her hip as you measured down her leg. “God, you people really tic every box off the one percent checklist, don’t you?”

Valerie hummed, painted lips curls into a smile. “We try our best dear.”

You stood up straight, hands moving behind her to wrap the tape around her chest with an awkward cough. Even as you willed all your focus on the numbers of her measurement you couldn't help but feel your face grow hot.

“How unlady-like.” She murmured, you didn’t look up to meet her gaze but the smug tone in her voice gave it away. “At least buy me dinner, Stitches.”

You chuckled and spared a glance up.

What a fucking mistake that was.

Blue eyes stared you down like you have been presented on a silver platter and the richest woman in D.C. wanted nothing more than to devour you right where you stood.

“Something tells me I wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

“I’m sure I can make an exception.”

You realized Valerie was alot like the sun, you couldn’t look at her for too long without needing to look away.

You stepped back to write her measurements down and put your hands together.

“I think you folks are good to go.”

You just hoped you wouldn’t end up burned.

Maxwell stood up and scoffed. “About damn time, some of us have real work to do instead of twiddling our thumbs and sewing little dresses.” As he walked by, his eyes flicked over yours in a poisonous glare and his shoulder knocked against yours with his son following behind him like a little carbon copy.

You looked toward his wife, who looked just as surprised by the worsening of her husband’s mood.

“You’re one lucky woman Mrs.Lord.”

“Believe me I know.” She leaned forward to whisper with a wink. “But I know a few things that’ll brighten him up no problem.”

You scrunched up your face and pushed out every image that surged into your mind at her implication. “Okay gross, didn’t need to know that but thank you.”

“Always my pleasure Stitches.”

The door shut behind Valerie as she walked out to their car, throwing one last wink over her shoulder before sliding into the backseat next to her son while her husband slammed the passenger seat door behind them.

“Well-” Cassandra looked over at you with a surprised expression. She must've noticed the fact that Maxwell had seemed to be pissier than usual, you did as well but assumed it was because of some deal that went sour at work or some type of rich people shit you couldn’t even fathom. “-his son seemed nice.”

“Yeah.” Their car turned a corner and disappeared from your line of sight. “They aren’t exactly the fucking Brady Bunch though.”

------

“Daniels-” Maxwell adjusted his collar in the rear-view mirror as he spoke. “-swing by the office. I need to go over some papers for a meeting I have tomorrow. Then take Valerie and Alastair home.”

“Of course sir.”

The driver turned left.

“Mom?”

Valerie looked to the boy at her side. “Yes sweetheart?”

“Can I come with you the next time you see the seamstress?” Valerie looked toward the passengers seat, where her husband sat just as shocked as her.

“You want to go see Stitches?” Maxwell asked. “Again?”

His son nodded, too young to realize how surprised his parents were by his answer.

“She’s funny and nice and she doesn’t talk down to me like other people do.” Alastair looked up at his mother, nervous at her lack of response. “Is that okay?”

That seemed to snap Valerie into action. She smiled and took her son’s hand in her with a loving pat. “Of course sweetheart, Stitches would love to have you around.”

The car came to a halt in front of the Chimtech Consortium building, which stood tall, even against the grit and grime of the busy city streets

Maxwell stepped out of the car before ducking his head into the window. “I’ll be home late tonight champ, alright?”

Alastair held no disappointment nor resentment to his father for the time he spent at work but it didn’t make Maxwell feel like any less of a shit father.

“Okay dad.”

Valerie leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, leaving a red lipstick stain in her wake. “I’ll see you tonight darling.”

Maxwell smiled. “Don’t stay up too late waiting for me dear.” He took a step back, watching the car drive out of the sight of his building before he frowned and wiped the lipstick off his cheek, which in turn left a red mark on his jacket sleeve.

“Damn that woman.”

The moment he entered the lobby, people seemed to pause before greeting him, none of which he gave a response to. It wasn’t until the elevator door shut that he took a deep breath.

Breathe Maxwell, you’ll run yourself ragged this way.

A tiny titter behind him made him realize he wasn’t alone in the elevator. Out of the corner of his eye he could see brown leather shoes that he’d wouldn’t be caught dead in.

“What’s your name son?”

The boy gaped for a moment before he found his voice. “Michael, sir.”

The door opened with a soft Ding! And Maxwell stepped out before turning to face the young man.

Wiry frame, tall, yet hunched over out of pure insecurity and refusing to meet Maxwell’s eye.

He was definitely an intern.

“Well then Mikey-” Maxwell noticed the way his head snapped up as he spoke. “Get me a coffee and bring it to my office, just the way I like it.”

The intern squeaked out a quick “of course sir!” before the doors shut on him.

Maxwell wondered how long it would take for ‘Mikey’ to realize he never told him how he liked his coffee or where his office actually was.

He turned sharply around a corner, taking note in the sea of cubicles he passed, every employee pausing to whisper and watch him march past without speaking. The sound of marketing calls dissipated as he grew farther away from the flurry of lower rank workers. Huddled cubicles were replaced with sleek halls and grand windows showcasing the city view. When his eyes landed on the dark brown door at the end of the hall he nearly wept.

Sweet sanctuary.

His hand had just curled around the silver door knob, the final obstacle between him and sweet sweet isolation when a shrill voice broke out.

“Oh!” Delilah squeaked, jumping up from her chair with surprise. “Mr.Lord, you're here!”

She definitely should’ve noticed that he had gotten here earlier, given that she was his fucking secretary.

“That I am Delilah.” Maxwell answered gruffly, eyes flicking over to the stack of papers on her desk that she would no doubt forget to file. “I do run this company after all.” Before she could respond with some ass-kissing compliment, he walked into his office and shut the door behind him.

Maxwell rolled his shoulders back, undoing the blue tie around his neck as he sank into his office chair with a groan. He spent more time in that chair than his own bed at this point.

Truth be told there wasn’t much that needed to be done at work today that couldn’t be done tomorrow. He had no meetings for another three days and he’d worked himself ragged the past few days to play catch up, now he was more than ahead of the game. He simply needed to be alone, to clear his head a bit.

But try as he may, he couldn’t calm the rambling stream of his consciousness no matter how hard he fought. When he opened his eyes again and spared a glance at the clock on his desk, he realized thirty minutes had passed since he first sat down.

Maxwell groaned, threading his fingers in his hair and pulling in frustration.

Why can’t you get the fuck out of his head?

That bratty attitude combined with your god awful sense of style should've made you repugnant, somebody he couldn’t stand the sight of and didn’t see as anything worth the metaphorical shit under his eight hundred dollar shoes. Yet here he sat, hunched over in his office plagued with your voice saying his name like a challenge over and over in his head like some sick chant.

Maxwell ran a hand through his hair, setting each strand into place before he pressed the button on his desk and spoke with authority.

“Delilah, could you meet me in my office?”

Only a few seconds later, she came scurrying into his office with poorly hidden excitement.

“Yes sir?” That was one thing he hated about her.

The fucking voice.

It wasn’t her voice on it’s own, but it was the way she made her voice sound. She made sure to always talk softly, forcing herself up to a higher octave to sound sweet and submissive like a flute when she really sounded like somebody stepping on the tail of a cat.

But her boss wasn’t interested in her voice to begin with.

He pushed his chair out from under his desk by a fraction and unbuckled his belt.

“Knees.”

She was quick to find her way between his legs with a sultry smile.

“Did you miss me?”

Maxwell scoffed. “Hardly. Now do something useful with that mouth before I start looking at new hires to take your place.”

The smile disappeared and she looked down, uttering out a small “Yes Mr.Lord” before she took his cock into his mouth. Maxwell let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in, head falling back with a relaxed hum. His eyes shut as his mind, always his enemy, began to paint a picture he had been longing for all day.

You sat on your knees between his legs, moaning while you ran your tongue along the underside of his cock.

You seemed like the type to tease, he didn’t doubt that. But he enjoyed teasing just fine, as long as he was the one doing it. Maybe in the form of a toy nestled between your legs while he held a remote, turning it on and off with no pattern just to see you whine and buck your hips like a bitch in heat.

His hand knotted itself in your hair and pushed you further down on his cock with a grunt.

“That’s it.” You whined as your head bobbed up and down, tongue hot against his veins while the coil in his stomach wound tighter and tighter every time you moved. “You take it so well, just like that.”

A nervous knock sounded against his door. Maxwell’s eyes snapped open before they narrowed into angry slits.

Christ, he just couldn’t catch a break today.

Delilah let out a muffled squeak and pushed herself off of Maxwell’s cock before his hand pressed down on the back of her head and bucked his hips against her open mouth.

“You make a noise or move an inch off of my dick-” His voice was even and ultimately unbothered as he spoke to her. “-and you're fucking fired.”

Delilah made a whimpered garble against him, he assumed it meant ‘Yes sir.’

“Come in.”

The door creaked open and in walked the same intern from the elevator, just this time with a Styrofoam cup in his trembling hand.

Son of a bitch, the kid actually did it.

“Well color me surprised Mikey, you came through.”

The boy set the coffee on his desk, completely unaware of the woman crouched under the desk, deepthroating the seemingly unbothered man sitting before him.

Maxwell took the coffee into his hand, taking a tentative sip before his face scrunched up. Just as he did, Delilah gagged loudly against him, causing Michael’s eyes to go wide as he looked around for the source of the sound.

God he hated black coffee.

“A touch too bitter for my taste, but gold star for effort kid.” Maxwell's hand snaked under the table to push Delilah's head down another inch or two. Her nose was now nestled against the hem of his dress shirt, and he could feel her struggling to maintain the position by the way her throat flexed around his cock.

Good. Maybe that would shut her up.

“Next time try a dash of nutmeg.”

“Nutmeg?”

“Yes, nutmeg. It’s a nice wake-up in the morning. But for now that will be all.” Maxwell motioned to the door, to which the boy nodded and bowed his head like some servant.

“Of course, have a good day sir.”

“You too kid. Make sure to shut the door behind you.”

The intern all but sprinted out, Maxwell felt his pride swell knowing even after he complimented the intern, he was still scared shitless of him. The moment his door clicked shut, he gripped his slobbering secretary’s hair by the root and wrenched her off his dick, leaving her to sputter and cough with tears in her eyes.

“I suggest you make yourself useful, Miss Harris.” Maxwell slid his jacket off his shoulders and onto the chair behind him. He pulled a condom out of his pocket with a frown that never seemed to leave when she was in his presence.

“That poor intern already knows where my office is and how I like my coffee, you might be out of a job soon enough.”

Delilah wiped the spit from her mouth and grinned. She stood on shaky legs in those horrendous kitten heels before pulling up her skirt and bending over his desk.

“You could never fire me sir.” She groaned, gripping the desk like a lifeline when Maxwell entered her and began to thrust without giving her time to adjust to his size. “You’d miss me too much.”

Maxwell, still buried inside her, scoffed. “And what exactly would I miss Delilah? The cold coffee? The missed memos? Or you coming in late and thinking I don’t notice?” With each question he thrust in and out, in and out, a harsh unforgiving tempo that his secretary should be used to by now.

She arched her back with a squeaking moan. “No, you’d miss this pussy. Nobody fucks you like I do Sir.” The final string keeping Maxwell together, the one that everybody seemed to tug and pluck all day finally snapped when Delilah her next words.

“Not even your bitch of a wife.”

Maxwell’s hips halted their assault against Delilah’s freckled skin, his eyes narrowed as he stared down at the back of her head, the pregnant pause filled the air that made Delilah realize right as the words passed her lips she had fucked up.

She gasped when his hand wrapped tight around her throat and pulled her up off the desk and against his chest.

“Talk about my wife again, go ahead.” Maxwell growled out, Delilah opened her mouth but no sound came out as his fingers squeezed tighter and tighter around her throat until her face went from pale white to bright red, the cold metal of his wedding band cut into the soft skin of her neck, the pain hopefully proving to be an effective teacher . “I fucking dare you, you even mention Valerie one more fucking time and you’ll wish you never pulled your lazy ass through that door to apply for this goddamn job. You understand me?”

When he loosened his grip she nodded rapidly, taking in a shuddering breath. She looked over her shoulder at him, legs trembling and a pout on her swollen lips.

“I’m sorry.” She croaked out, voice hoarse from his dick and only made worse by his temper. His hand slid up her back before pushing her down on the desk where her body slammed down on the hard wood.

“I don’t care.”

Maxwell slid out of her before ramming back into her dripping cunt with zero grace, continuing to do so as his hands gripped her hips hard enough that he would surely leave behind bruises come the next day.

He thought about the way the same bruises would look on your hips.

Your neck.

Fuck, your chest.

Hearing you moan his name like a plea, a chant to God but Maxwell was one being worshiped. All the bite you showed him at work would melt away when he slid inside you with a groan. His fingers digging into the plush give of your ass while pounding into your sweet pussy that gripped him like a fucking vice.

“You love it.” He spoke through gritted teeth, hair unkempt and falling in front of his eyes. “You fucking love it don’t you?”

You nodded numbly, gripping onto the table and just barely managing a weak moan. Maxwell’s hand came down on your ass in a stinging slap that made you shout. He didn’t care who outside his office heard you, Christ himself could be standing outside and that wouldn’t be enough to pull him from you.

“You speak when-” Maxwell groaned, doubling over your body and rutting into you like an animal. “You speak when you're fucking spoken to.”

Your back arched as his voice growled out against your neck. “I love it.” You fingers dragged against his mahogany desk that shook with each thrust. “I love it so fucking much.”

“I fucking know you do.” His hips stuttered against yours, hot waves of pleasure threatening to crash over him with every thrust, every bounce of your curls and every sweet coo of your voice. “You were made for just my cock, just for me. Weren’t you?”

“Just for you.” You panted. Your knees knocked together as he pushed you into the desk more with each selfish thrust of his cock. “All yours max, only yours.”

Maxwell’s hand slammed down on the table next to Delilah’s head as he came with a low groan. Delilah, feeling her own high slowly retreating, whined.

“Max please.” She begged. “I’m so close please just-” she squeaked at the feeling of her boss pulling out of her in record time as he cleaned himself up.

“How many times to I have to fucking tell you, address me as Mr.Lord or Sir-” his eyes cut down at her trembling form. “-or don’t bother speaking at all.”

Delilah pushed herself off his desk with a weak nod.

“Yes Mr.Lord.”

“Send a reminder to that archaeologist for this Friday.” Maxwell had already fastened his belt and taken seat at his desk once more, plucking the now disarrayed papers off the cool surface and shuffling them into a neat pile in his hands. He read them while he walked over to the bookshelf raised on the wall

“She seems like a ditz and I want to make sure this meeting doesn’t fall through.”

Delilah frowned, tilting her head to the side. A gesture some men may find charming if they were ten years younger and didn't run a fucking company that this idiot woman worked for.

“Archaeologist?”

“The mousy one that works at the museum.” He reminded her. “If you don’t remember at this point, that’s your own fault for only paying attention to the things I say when you’re on my dick.” Without looking up from the papers in his hand, Maxwell waved a hand in the direction of his office door.

“That will be all.”

Delilah bowed her head, whether to hide the bright blush on her face or angry tears, he didn’t know. And quite frankly?

He didn’t care.

He was already focused on the papers he skimmed, deals and mergers that could break other companies while making him a richer man.

At least that’s what he told himself while your voice was playing in his head like a broken record.

Angry, brown eyes left the paper to stare at an unopened bottle of whiskey on the shelf that stared back at him.

A wedding gift.

The irony of it all wasn’t lost on him as he forwent a glass and drank straight from the bottle in hopes of drowning all thoughts of you.

The bottle was halfway empty when he gave up.

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord x valerie lord x reader #valerie lord #valerie lord x reader #ww 1984 #ww1984 #WW84 #wonder woman 1984 #ROOSASUT

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laketaj24 · 5 years ago

Text

Easy

●●Author’s Note: This was requested! I love me some fluffy Tommy. Taglist and Requests are open! I hope you enjoy

●●Pairings: Reader x Tommy

●●Requested: If you’re still taking requests, can you please write a Tommy one, about your relationship being an unrequited one, he’s always chased after you but you were more into him for the sex, and when he finds out you’re pregnant he feels as though he’s finally “locked you in” - ANON

“Well, there you have it, you’re pregnant.” The doctor looked up at you. The judgment painted on through his furrowed brow and the sucking of his teeth. But he daren’t say anything, everyone in this small place knew. You were the woman Tommy Shelby fancied.

“Well.” You cleared your throat. “That’s news.” But in a way it wasn’t, Tommy never took the time to pull out of you and it was there blatantly spelled out, eh wanted you barefoot and pregnant. He had said it many times, you just didn’t want that from him. The reason was first he was Tommy Shelby. Women swooned after him, but at all times there was for certain a warrant for his death somewhere. What if it happened? What if he died and you were left with the baby? You’d seen the turmoil women affiliated with the Shelby’s endured. You didn’t want it.

“Here is a pamphlet.” He handed you the beige paper. “I suggest at least two hours of fresh air and remember that you are eating for two. Full course meals and plenty of rest, no more alcohol if you can handle it.”

“How many months?”

“You are about three months. Nothing to worry about, I am sure Mr. Shelby will treat you well.” He said. He read your worry as you slipped into your jacket and took your purse. “I would like to see you next month, make an appointment with the secretary and no more corsets.” He pointed to your dress. “Good day.”

You made the next appointment and as you walked the streets of Birmingham a chill rested through your body. You watched as the children played on the cobbled roads. Their laughter made you grow sick, you were to be a mother. You barely took care of yourself.

You headed into the apartment. He was there. You knew before you even entered the sitting area. He left his coat hanging from the hook, along with his hat and glasses. He entered the place oftentimes to be away from it all. You didn’t mind most days but this day, peace would have been nice.

“I called for you,” Thomas said. He stood from the couch. “Your job stated that you had an appointment and was gone for the day. You’re not well?” he questioned.

“I was feeling sick. I am better. Jesus Tommy,” You rolled your eyes. “You could give me a break sometimes.” You smiled. You placed your coat on the back of the chair and walked over to the brandy. You wanted one glass, just a one swig to warm you from the bleak winter’s chill of outside. But you restrained. “Would you like a drink Tommy?”

“I would not.” He cleared his throat. “I came by to make sure you were well. It is not like you to get sick.”

“I don’t need you checking up on me. I do just fine on me own.” You sat down on the couch and slid out of your shoes.

“I did not ask you all that.” He kissed your cheek lightly and sat across from you. He wanted to talk to you about more. You didn’t know that for sure but everything in him screamed excitement. His eyes were lit, the beautiful sky gray they turned on some days danced with happiness. “I also wanted to let you know that, I plan to open an office in London. I like how you conduct your business. Would you work for me?”

“Absolutely not, I will not be one of the women you bend over desk and fuck.” You hissed. “I already have a reputation being tied to you. The Shelby name gets your far, but also gets fear from people.”

“Fear is power.”

“Nice to see your thinking.” You rolled your eyes and then shook your head. “I am not working for you.”

“Fine.” He sat back. “I have no idea why I cannot seem to let you go. You’re not nice. You barely let me sleepover and you just piss me off every time I am around you. But here I am, begging for you to be with me… again.”

Your heart strummed. “Perhaps we are not meant to be. Perhaps I have told you this what seems like one hundred times. One hundred different times Tommy Shelby and you still fucking bloody knock me up.” You yelled. “and now it seems you have your wish because no matter where I go… I am Shelby scarred.”

“What?” He leaned forward; his hands were clutched together placed on his lips. “Say that again.”

“I am pregnant.” You tried to ignore the brilliant smile on his face. Your nerves weren’t ready to swoon for him during this time. You wanted to scream at him and make him make promises you were not sure he could keep. But he still smiled and somehow the happiness bled over to you.

“This is good news.”

“This is shit.”

“How can you say that?”

“We are not married.”

“Do you want to be?” He asked. There was a tiny gleam of hope. “I would gladly marry you. I have told you ample of times that I love you. Will you?”

“Let’s just stick to being parents.” You laughed. The tears stung your eyes. “This is going to be hard.”

“It’s already easy to love you, it’ll be just as easy to love our child.” He gripped your hand. “you’ll have no worries.”

“I hope not.” You admitted as you listened to the words our child bounce around your head.

●●●Taglist: @taytayize123 @honestsycrets @supernaturalvikingwhore @dvndelionn @queenmissfit @cltex84 @didiiscool11 @therealcalicali @readsalot73@allaboardthereadingrailroad @vikingsbifrost @rhys108 @savismith @tephi101 @khiraeth @queenbeeta @danceyreagan @geekandbooknerd @feyrearcheron44 @sparklemichele @tiredxsurvivor @tiff-valerie @ainatirb-j @areubeingserved @brujademente @igotshinee

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #laketa j writes #laketaj24

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 5 years ago

Text

Glad To Take Care Of You

Characters: Matthew Gray Gubler x Reader

Word Count: 2,164

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You get so wasted that you don’t recognize your own boyfriend.

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me.

This is the December 7th fic for my 25 days of RPF Christmas with the prompt: “You’re drunk. I’m driving you home.”

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

The bar you and your friends are in is packed and crowded. Sweaty bodies grind on each other to make room for virtually everyone in the place. The bar is swarmed with people requesting the new drink that’s got everyone raging: spiked eggnog. Luckily, you and your friends got there early so you were one of the first ones to get this popular drink. Bars all across town are serving it, and you just can’t get enough of it. To start off, you’re having a light drink since you want to ease yourself into the hard stuff instead of just going for it right away.

The same thing can’t be said for your friend Tiffany, who is already wasted and grinding on a guy she just met on the dance floor. He’s got his hands on her hips, but you can tell from your seat at the bar that he’s trying to lift the ends of her dress. He doesn’t look threatening, but in today’s society, you never know who you’re dealing with. Tiffany has always been the tough one of the group, so you weren’t worried about him taking advantage of her. She’ll knock him on his ass, wasted or not, if his touches weren’t wanted.

“Look at Tiffany go. Man, I wish I could get that,” Valerie sighs longingly.

“You’re single! Mingle it up!” you encourage.

“Oh yeah, what man wouldn’t want a single mother of three who barely sleeps and whose boys are rowdier than any other kid I’ve seen?” she scoffs.

“You’ll find a man who wants that sooner or later.”

“And what about you? Does your boyfriend want that for you? Or does he know you’re bar hopping with your closest friends?”

“Yeah, he knows. He’s the one who suggested I do this. It’s been a while since I’ve been out with you girls, and I guess he sensed that I needed the break. He would have been with us, but he’s filming late. Apparently, there was some technical problem a few weeks ago, and they’re filming what they couldn’t before.”

“I wish I had an actor boyfriend,” your other friend, Darcy huffs.

“Don’t tell Darren that,” you laugh.

Darren has been Darcy’s boyfriend for over two years, so you know her comment was only playful. This night has only just begun, but you’re already having such a good time. As you drink your alcoholic beverage, you can feel your purse slap against your leg which only reminds you of what’s inside. Matthew trusts you no matter where you go, who you’re with, or what you do. He has no reason to behave otherwise. However, he doesn’t trust others around you and gave you a taser for protection. Since you’re going to be drinking this entire night, you’re afraid of electrocuting yourself, but you keep it inside your purse just in case. Maybe playing an FBI agent for 15 years has gone to his head, but you love how much he cares about you.

“We should hop to the next bar. This one is getting kind of lame,” Olivia, your absolute best friend, shrugs.

“What and leave Tiffany here by herself?” you ask.

“She looks like she doesn’t need us anymore,” Valerie points out, motioning to your other friends. Tiffany has her tongue down the man she’s been dancing on all night.

After telling her you’ll be leaving to the next bar, you and your other three friends headed to a club nearby. Much like the previous establishment, they were serving eggnog that is just a tad stronger than you’re used to. The music is loud, everyone is dancing and having a good time. There are so many clubs on the strip you’re walking on, but Darcy knows the bartender very well. They’ve been friends since high school, so that means discounted drinks for everyone.

It’s not a good idea to have discounted drinks, especially since Darcy is a lightweight. She likes to mix her hard and soft alcohol, which means she’s fucked up almost every single time. You keep telling her how much missing alcohol is bad, but she never listens. Her friend keeps supplying the drinks, and you and your friends keep drinking them. You’re not wasted yet, but if you keep drinking like this, you will be.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Darcy groans.

Her bartender friend seems to know the drill because she’s pulling out a large bucket and handing it to Darcy. She takes it and throws up in it. Her head does not leave the bucket for the next ten minutes. Darren is out of town for the next two weeks, so the only way she’s getting home is through a cab that you’ve already called. By the time they got here, Darcy has calmed down quite a bit. Throwing up is her body’s way of telling her to stop. The only thing that will help her now is a tall glass of water and a fuckton of ibuprofen. The cab is paid for by you, and you’re helping her into the back seat.

“3684 W Highland St. Gate code 8494,” you told the driver.

“You got it.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Darcy mumbles.

“You’re welcome. Take medicine, drink water, and get some sleep,” you instruct before the driver pulls away.

Two down, three to go—if you’re counting yourself. Darcy is the only person who knows the bartender week, so it’s time to move into the next bar/club for some new experiences and tasteful alcohol. Olivia is drunker than she realizes because as soon as you enter the place, she’s tripping over her own two feet trying to get to the bar. She doesn’t throw up when she’s done like Darcy, she dances… and sings… and gropes.

The music is pounding through your skull, but you enjoy whatever content the DJ is spitting. Olivia is downing shots one after the other, and you and Valerie are watching with open mouths. She finishes with a satisfying “ahh” before sliding off her stool.

“Olivia are you okay?” you ask.

“Never better,” she grins and wobbles across the dance floor.

As soon as she’s swarmed by other people, she begins dancing in the worst way possible. Your comparison is much like Jessica Day on New Girl and the way she dances freely without giving a shit about anyone else’s opinions. Or like Amy Santiago from Brooklyn Nine-Nine. It’s funny to watch, but that dancing will soon turn into groping if you don’t do something about it soon. You take out your phone and dial her husband’s number so he can come and pick her up.

“Hello?” he sleepily asks.

“Hi, I just want to tell you that your wife is currently trying to dance on some dude who is clearly interested in another woman. I think she’s had too much to drink.”

“I’ll be there soon. Text me the address. Thanks, Y/N,” he grumbles and hangs up.

When he arrived not long after, Olivia jumped into his arms with a happy squeal. It was nice to see her get loose, and you decide it’s the best option for you too. Instead of drinking eggnog all night, you went for the much harder stuff. It was just down to you and Valerie, who keeps checking her phone every few seconds.

The next place you two go-to is another bar, but it’s much quieter than the first. The music is still loud, but you’re able to hear what Valerie has to say from where you’re sitting at the bar.

“Wow, you’re really packing it,” she comments when you down your third drink at this bar. It’s safe to say you’re pretty wasted at this point.

“Whoa, there are three of you,” you giggle. Darcy throws up, Olivia dances and gropes, you love to giggle. Your body’s way of telling you it’s enough is when you giggle so much that you pass out from the energy spent doing that small action.

“I hope you’re having fun,” she smiles, and her phone rings. She gets up and leaves the area to answer it and comes back ten minutes last with a frown on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I got a call from my babysitter. One of my kids is sick and is calling for me. I really should get home to deal with this.”

“Yeah, go, take care of your little babies,” you chuckle and get up with her.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Me? Okay? I’ll be fine! The nights not over!” you giggle as you follow her out of the bar.

“Do you want me to call Matthew to pick you up?”

“Who?”

“That’s a yes,” she whispers to herself. “Well, I have to go. You have fun, okay?”

“Yes! Fly like the wind my little butterfly!” you giggle.

You two separate with her getting in her car, and you stumble on down the street. Luckily, it’s that time of year/night when barely no one is out on the street. You’re all alone which is dangerous, especially with your state of mind. You don’t know how much time has passed, but when you look to your left, you see a car driving slowly next to you with its windows down. You hiccup and stumble over to the car which has now stopped.

“Hey, Valerie called me. You’re a bit drunk, are you?” Matthew says with a smile.

“I don’t know who you are. Leave me alone,” you slur and leave his car. Matthew follows slowly next to you since he doesn’t want to lose you.

“Y/N get in the car please!” he calls out. People are passing by and giving him weird looks, and he refuses to look like a creep. “Don’t worry, she’s my girlfriend! Everything is okay!”

“I have a boyfriend, you know,” you stop and face Matthew.

“You’re drunk, I’m driving you home. Get in the car, Y/N.”

“I have a boyfriend, and he’s going to be mad if I get into another man’s car. He’ll beat you up really good, and you’ll be crying and wishing you never talked to me in the first place!” you mumble and begin walking away. Matthew parks the car with a smile and gets out, jogging over to you. It’s sweet that even in your state, you’re still thinking about him.

“There’s a warm bed waiting for you at home,” Matthew coaxes and puts his arm around your shoulders. It doesn’t take much for him to steer you in the direction of the car. You’re stumbling over small pebbles in your way, and Matthew holds you up every time you wobble.

“I like a warm bed,” you whisper.

“Yeah, and there’s a warm blanket just ready for you snuggle the whole night,” he chuckles. He helps you into the passenger side and reaches over you to buckle your seatbelt. You giggle for no reason, and he smiles in retaliation. He loves the sound of your laugh whether you’re drunk or not. It’s so pure and innocent that he just can’t get enough. He rounds the car to the driver’s side, gets in, starts her up, and pulls away from the curb.

“You know, my boyfriend is going to be worried when I don’t show up,” you say.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! And you’re going to be in big trouble, mister, if you don’t return me to him! He’s too great to worry about me,” you start to get emotional. Matthew can’t stop smiling, but lets you continue.

“He’s nice, and funny, and so handsome. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone as handsome as he is. He doesn’t deserve you taking me away for your own selfish reasons! I love him so much,” you whimper emotionally.

“I love you too,” he grins widely.

The drive to your shared house is short, but you’re fast asleep by the time he parks in the driveway. He gets out and goes to your side, opens the door and unlocks your seatbelt. You’re so wasted you don’t even wake from this. Usually, you’re a light sleeper, but not when you drink. He hooks his right arm underneath your knees and supports your back with his left one. He carries you inside the house and to your shared bedroom. When he got the call from Valerie, he made sure that everything is set up for your arrival. Painkillers and water on the nightstand, the fan on, the blanket warmed from the dryer, and your pillows fluffed. He lays you in bed and began stripping you of your clothes. You like sleeping in just your underwear, so it wasn’t hard for him to get you into that state.

He doesn’t mind taking care of you when you’re like this since you’re rarely like this. You deserved a night out with your best friends, and he’s glad to be the one to take care of you through the massive hangover you’re going to have tomorrow. After all, you’re the one he truly loves.

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@adlerorzel-blog @kendall-michele @megsyrae @bitchwhytho @kt-bug3 @tc5322 @practicallylivesonline @cynbx @cobrakai1967 @reid-187 @mbmrocks @inspired-is-gone @skylarraker @idkbutspencer @yellowbadgergirl @onceuponthenightmares @yeet-the-nugget @izzythefanfreak @very-lonely-august @sammy-jo1977 @nomajdetective

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lapetiteaquavita · 5 years ago

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Rainy autumn evening

Why

Persuaded by @my-dyatlov, I publish my first oneshot in English that I write some time ago. Probably full of errors but I have never written that long work in English, so you must forgive me. I hope it got lost in Tumblr trash (even if @kriegsverlobte it's said it's niy that bad 😳)

Ship: Valery Legasov x reader (yeah 🙈)

Genre: Fluff

It was raining. Drop by drop. Thousands of them were falling on the Moscow’s ground, streets and sidewalks. Water was everywhere making everything wet and as cold as cold were souls of men in charge in Soviet Union. Gray shade of sky was similar to the grayness of city. Except few kitschy decorated buildings painted with flashy colours, most of them were nothing but concrete blocks. Skyscrapers were, are and will be inseparable elements of Moscow’s panorama. Finally, they are the symbols of Soviet power and strength. Many of people hated this city for its corruption, demoralisation or failing ideals of communism but yet you loved this city. Or to be more precisely, you loved a man who was living here for most of his life and this man was Valery Legasov.

He had been holding an umbrella for you until you finally fixed your shoes’ buckles. They can be very disturbing, especially when you wear heels during downpour. Neither you, nor Valery wanted you to die by slipping on the puddle.

When everything was done, you two took another walk in the park that was near to his workplace — The Kurchatov Institute. You have always admired his knowledge about all of these physics and chemistry stuff. It is not that you knew nothing about it, because from the day you’ve met you learned a lot, but Valery was always your ideal of scientist — truthful and with passion for his job.

Green leaves on the trees were replaced by colourful ones — red and yellow. Is it coincidence that in Soviet Union there wasn’t any rotten, brown leaves? That there were only these shades that reminded about the mighty state?

"Do you know why we can see these beautiful red leaves?", asked Valery, stopping next to tree which leaves were in shade of Soviet Union flag.

"Because this is how our brain interprets waves of visible light that are long from 650 to 780 nanometres, am I right?", you answered with a bit of doubts in voice.

"Yes, of course. You are absolutely right!". You could see a little smile was appearing on his face at that moment. He was glad that you tried to understand his job by learning the basics of physics and then these more complicated things. You were sacrificing your free time, after a work as a nurse, to discover all of these theorems and being with him from the moment he came back home after hard day of work in the Institute. Valery couldn't imagine more loyal wife than you.

After a while he continued his walk and you followed him because you didn't want to get wet. Especially that you were wearing a blue polka dot dress Valery bought you last year as a birthday gift. You always appreciated his presents, no matter what they were. He could give you (but he wouldn’t since it’s dangerous) fragment of pure uranium and you would be still pleased. Let’s be honest, Valery was the best present that fate could give you and he was the only thing that matter in your life.

As you were walking along concrete pathway it has started to rain heavier and heavier but wind wasn’t much more lighter. Leaves were dancing above the ground like they weren’t scared of the terrible weather.

“Moy dorogoy, maybe we should go home?”, you suggested. Sound made by wind hurt your ears and was one of the sounds you hate, so you immediately decided about coming back home forgetting about grocery shopping you had to do.

“Yes, I think it’s fantastic idea”, Valery agreed with you even if water wasn’t the most dangerous matter in his life. But he knew that you could get cold and sick and it would real catastrophe for him. That's why he hadn't been waiting any longer, he just started to run with you towards your shared flat. It wasn't big, it wasn't small, just average and yet, it was your kingdom where you were a queen of the greatest king — your lovely Valera.

After rushing through few gray, sorrowful streets you finally reached door of your home and you couldn't be any happier. You, as well as Valery, thought your run would never stop. And even when you two were under plain red umbrella, your clothes were wet as ground outside.

"Chert", Valery cursed when he was undressing his jacket. "Even my shirt is damp, amazing". Irony in his last word was very intense. Maybe he wasn't that type of man who need his clothes to be impeccable, but he still liked them neat and dry.

"Love, don't worry", you gave him a kiss on his cold cheek. "They will dry. Now we have other problems"

"Like?", he asked worried.

"We need to get warm", you said while smile was appearing on your face. "I don't want my darling to be sick".

"Me neither. So what? A bath?" Valery suggested.

"A bath". And then, you two went to the bathroom where white tiles decorated the walls. All damp clothes, that you had on yourselves, were thrown into the basket. While you were washing your makeup off, Valery filled the bathtub with hot water. Sweet scent of strawberry shower gel from East Germany was floating in the air. That created ideal conditions for you two to relax. Normally you didn't bath in that luxury but Valery thought about making this evening more special, as a little gratitude for all your kindness and caring heart you showed him. Even after years, he still couldn't understand why you chosen him, meaning nothing scientist, among a lot of better other men. You also didn't understand that, you just loved him with all your heart.

You loved the warm that radiated from his body every time you hugged him. Also at that moment when you were sitting in the bath with him, you didn't care about washing yourself. You just wanted to cuddle with your lovely Valera. To listen his heartbeat that always calmed you. To just be with him. And all of that happened. You couldn't imagine better man than him.

After a while of sitting without any motion, just letting you to lie on his chest, he started to play with a flock of your hair. He always done that in peaceful moments like this. Valery, if he could, he would lie with you next to him for whole eternity. For him nothing could compare with this. Even promotion on a General Secretary position wouldn't be that satisfying as being with you, watching you smile and hearing your laughter. Sometimes he felt like a young boy who fell in love for a first time, but he didn't care. You were the only one person that kept him on the Earth.

But water was getting more and more cold. When you had got goosebumps he decided to get you out of the tub, dry with a towel and wrap in warm, soft bathrobe since you forgot to bring a pyjama for you.

"Lyubimaya, I will make a tea for us. Wait here patiently for me", he said as he had put you off gently on the bedsheets and then put on his pants to not walk around house naked. You just watched his leaving figure to the kitchen where samovar with fantastic tea stood. This one kind of black tea, that Valery was always buying, was your number one. Any other didn't taste that good, any other didn't remind you about love of your life who after few moments brung you a cup of tea as black as graphite is. But you didn't have will to stand up and drink. Actually you were sailing away to the land of dreams. Dreams of your dearest man.

When Valery noticed that you were nearly sleeping, he just lay down next to you and embraced in tight and warm hug as he wanted to protect you from evil. You were the most valuable person in his life and didn't want to lose you.

"Ya lyublyu tebya, Valera", you had said before falling asleep with a little smile on your face.

"Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu".

#chernobyl hbo #chernobyl #valery #valery legasov #legasov #begone #valery legasov x reader #chernobyl fanfic

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plumppeachprincess · 6 years ago

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Tagged by: @micorx (give them a big follow they cool af)

1. Nicknames: Abbi, Princess, Peachy pop, Mr. Bubs

2. Zodiac Sign: Leo

3. Height: 5′4"

4. Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

5. Last Thing I googled: Icelandic: How to romance a viking

6. Favourite Musicians: Panic!at the disco, Studio Killers, Billie Eilish, (I'm gonna fucking say it) Hatsune Miku there I said it

7. Song Stuck in My Head: Bury a friend by Billie Eilish

8. Following Now: 96

9. Followers: 872 in this blog

10. Do I Get Asks?: On this blog? Nah.

11. Amount of Sleep?: Depends on the day. Mostly 2-4 hours a night.

12. Lucky Number: 69 (eyyy lmao)

13. What I’m Wearing: Peach covered panties and a gray tshirt that reads "I'm all about naps" cause when your mom buys you a shirt you wear that shirt.

14. Dream Job: Cosmetologist working in theater and Broadway for makeup and hair. Or a cryptozoologist!

15. Dream Trip: Maybe going to New York with a lot of money or going back home and taking my sister wherever she wants and spoiling her.

16. Favourite food: Not gonna lie I fucking live for bbq. Ribs, chicken, yum. But I equally LOVE chili and honey and pb sandwiches.

17. Instruments: Piano (hardly), mostly just vocals for anyone who needs a low voice lmao.

18. Languages: English, latin, small amounts of Japanese (basics, better at reading than speaking), limited Spanish, and limited French.

19. Favourite song: At the moment??? A little wicked by Valerie Boussard

20. Random Fact: I started writing for odder fandoms back in the day and now write canon character x readers to fight the stigma it is cringy and encourage self shipping!

21. Aesthetic: Fruits, cozy cottages, busy city streets, rainy afternoons with peeks of sunshine, heavily forested places with water, clowns.

Imma tag: @thelittlestbull, @whoaimhellatrash, @monstergoreguts, @realityinspace, aaaaand anyone else I cant remember off the top of my head.

#princess talks #About me

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weshney · 1 year ago

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Portal Panic Chapter 17

And A Partridge In A Pear Tree

Danny Phantom x Boku no Hero Academia

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Ao3 | FFn | Youtube Audiobook

Tags:

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A white shape suddenly zipped from the portal, and it was barely a second before Danny’s own monochrome blur overtook it. A series of barked coos, loose feathers and panicked flapping exploded from Danny’s hands as he held onto the mysterious creature. Frowning, a miniature ecto-shield formed around the open portal, effectively closing its door. It didn’t matter though, because not a moment later, the rift evaporated.

“What’cha got there, Danny-boy?” Mr. Fenton chirped, stepping away from a laptop that was connected via USB to a monstrous server beneath it.

“Uh—smoothie?”

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And then there was that damn Chisaki. Just the icing on this shit cake. If the Shie Hassakai expected the League to bow down and lick the dirt from their boots, they had another thing coming.

While it was obvious the yakuza were on to something big—whatever they’d shot Compress with was definitely worth stealing—there had to be a way to take advantage of that beaked bastard without ceding power.

Shigaraki’s red eyes passed unseeing over another row of games, until they suddenly sharpened on a dramatic cover art. Protagonists from several different franchises stood together, working to battle against a sea of Nohearts.

A wide smile pulled at cracked lips, splitting one and causing it to bleed; but he barely noticed.

Of course.

Why didn’t he think of it before?

A crossover.

#danny phantom #boku no hero acedamia #portal panic #dp x bnha #dp fanfiction #crossover #my hero academia #dp fanfic #dp x mha #dp crossover #fanfiction #fanfic

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crankpendletonplays-blog · 8 years ago

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Bad Things- Jughead Jones

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: Just glimpses in to Jughead and Reader’s relationship. Heavily based off of the song “Bad Things” by Camila Cabello and Machine gun Kelly because I'm a total slut for that bop

Warnings: SIN SIN SIN SIN SO MUCH SIN IM A SINNER, Swearing, implied smut, actual descriptive smut like guys this is kinda intense.

I DID IT OKAY I SINNED FOR Y’ALL

(Disclaimer: If you are uncomfortable with Jughead Jones smut then Do.Not.Read. This is literal actual smut intended for the Riverdale Tv Show version of Jughead Jones portrayed by Cole Sprouse, as all my other fics are. If you are offended or do not like this kind of stuff, then just keep scrolling. This is requested by my followers and I won’t deny it or not do it simply because a few other people don't like it.)

___________________________________________-

“Am I outta my head, am I outta my mind? If you only knew the bad things I like.”

It was the little things about him that always had me craving him. The veins along his wrists, when his jaw was clenched. The little hints of curls that poked out of his gray beanie, almost as if they were begging to see the light of day. The frame of his body was probably my favorite part. I had never been attracted to buff men, particularly guys like my friend Archie Andrews. He was a whole different story though. He was tall and lean, almost comparing to the body of a track runner, but his body was still toned in all of the right places, and he was certainly strong enough to carry me up my stairs to my bedroom. Jughead Jones made me think the most sinful things, and I couldn't ever stop. I'm just lucky that the feeling is mutual.

"Y/n?Did you just hear a thing I said?" My best friend Veronica looked at me expectantly, her eyebrows raised and looking frustrated with me. Truthfully, I hadn't heard a thing she said. I was too busy focusing my attention on something more...interesting.

Jughead Jones had started out as a friend. That's how they all did, right? We had four classes together, and mutual friends, so of course, we grew incredibly close over time.Eventually, it became something more The boy stared back at me, his blue eyes piercing through mine and in to my head, almost reading my thoughts. I saw as he mouthed a simple word "tonight" and I gave him a slight nod, biting my lip in response.

"Sorry V, she's too focused on her loverboy." Archie taunted me, passing by us and to his friend, knocking shoulders with him. Jughead blushed slightly, not moving from his position on the lockers, his arms crossed over him. I could fix that.

I strutted over, my hips moving a little more than they usually do. Jughead uncrossed his arms and they immediately went to my waist once I reached him, pulling me in to his body that was still against the lockers. I leaned up, pressing my lips to his quickly before the bell rang. I broke apart from my boyfriend, my hand sliding down his shirt slowly. I pulled away, winking at him before strutting off. I didn't even have to turn around to know his eyes were on me, watching my every step.

“No matter what you say, no matter what you do, I only wanna do bad things to you.”

Jughead and I had been together for a good six months before we got in to our first fight. He always had his nose shoved in to his laptop, and I got no attention from him anymore, and I was angry. I had waited a while for him to notice, and he never did, so I took matters in to my own hands.

My boyfriend sat at a stool in my kitchen, his hands in his hair and his laptop in front of him, His beanie long forgotten on the counter. If I wasn't so pissed at him, I might have offered to release some of that tension, but I wasn't in a giving mood that day. I slammed the laptop shut, my eyes glaring at him. Jughead looked up at me with a confused look.

"Forsythe, do you remember why I invited you over?" I asked him, my eyebrow cocked while I waited to his answer. His mouth opened slightly, trying to string together something and drawing up a blank. I scoffed, shaking my head and walking away.

"Baby, wait-" Jughead hopped off the stool, following me out of the room.

"Jughead, I asked you to come over because I wanted to spend time with you!! Not so I could watch you on your laptop the whole time! I just want some of you to myself!is that too much?"

"You know how important this novel is to me, y/n-"

" I know that! But I should be more important!" I shouted. I didn't care if I sounded selfish. I was pissed.

" Of course you're more important! What kind of question is that?!" Jughead looked at me like I was ridiculous and I shook my head.

"Really? Because sometimes it feels like you would choose that book over me if it came down to it." I crossed my arms, my foot tapping against the hardwood floor. Jughead's face fell, and the anger on his face was replaced with a sad look.

"That is not true, that is not true at all, I would always choose you." Jughead closed the gap between us, his arms wrapping around my waist. I pushed him away slightly, my hands on his chest.

"Prove it." I spoke bravely, my tone of voice becoming different.

Everything happened relatively quickly from there.Jughead's hands went around my back, lifting me so my legs were wrapped around his waist, and his fingers wrapping around the backs of my thighs. His mouth was on mine and I felt my back hit the wall. Jughead's lips went to my neck, sucking harshly at the skin until purple bruises adorned it. My hands went to his sweater, almost ripping the fabric just to get it off of him.

" My room," I panted, my hands tangled in Jughead's hair while he sucked harshly at the collarbone peeking out of my tank top. He adjusted my body that was wrapped around his before making his way to the stairs, carrying me up them. I felt my back hit my mattress and Jughead was on top of me, his legs on either side of my waist and his hands already under my shirt. His had already been tossed over a chair in my room.

I flipped us over so I was on top,grinding my lower body in to his. Jughead let out a low groan, his head tilting upwards at the contact. My hands made quick work unbuckling his belt, pulling it off of him quickly and unbuttoning his jeans. Jughead looked at me impressed.

"No matter how many times you do that, I'm still pretty shocked at your skillwork." Jughead's arms went behind his head, a smirk now on his face.

"Don't get too comfortable." I taunted, my hands going behind my back.

I unclasped my bra, tossing it across my room somewhere. Jughead sat up quickly, his mouth already on my chest, littering my body with hickeys. He flipped us over again so he was in control, and pressed open mouth kisses down my stomach to my hips, his fingers curling under my sweatpants and dragging the waistband down and off of me. My breath hitched in my throat when I felt his lips on my thigh, leaving light little kisses up them until his mouth was over the fabric of my underwear. My back arched off the mattress at the feeling, my fingers gripping the sheets until my knuckles turned white. Jughead hooked two of his digits in to the side of my underwear, pulling them slowly down my thighs.

"Jug... Jug please." I begged, not really in the mood to take things slow. Jughead pulled the fabric down the rest of my legs, and they went flinging in an unknown direction of the bedroom.Jughead's head dipped down, and I was breathing intensely, my hands going to his hair and tangling in to the strands, gripping tightly.

“We're both wild, and the nights young, and you're my drug.”

Parties weren't Jughead's thing, but Cheryl was in fact now a part of our gang, and it was only fair to at least make an appearance. So, on Saturday night, I was getting dressed and ready to go to her party. I wore a simple blue dress a gold belt with a bow around my waist, and some black ankle boots. Veronica and Betty laid on my bed, chatting amongst the two of them while I finished my makeup. I was finishing my lipstick when Archie and Jughead walked in to my door, both of them surprisingly having smiles on their faces.

Jughead made his way towards me immediately, pressing a kiss to my temple and standing behind me, his arms wrapping loosely around my shoulders. I looked at him through my vanity mirror, blowing a kiss at him, and he blushed and rolled his eyes.

"Are you almost ready y/n?" Betty sighed exasperatedly. She say up from the bed, smoothing out her romper, and Veronica wrapped her an arm around her waist, leaning her head against her girlfriends shoulder

"Oh, Bets, let the poor girl take her time. It's always classier to be fashionably late." Veronica pressed a kiss to the shell of Betty's ear and her face went red.

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We arrived on time to the party and everyone split up, Betty and Veronica dancing, Archie talking to Valerie, and my back to Jughead's chest as we sunk in to a corner of the room, to have some privacy. His arms were around my waist, holding my tightly to his body while he pressed kisses to my neck, whispering incredibly sinful things about what he would be doing to me right this minute had we not been at Cheryl's house.

I know that Jughead would have rather been at my house tonight, cuddled in to each other on my couch watching a movie, or just talking and being in each other's presence, or even trying out some of the things he had been whispering to me. I felt a little sympathetic for him, but I knew just the way to cheer him up.

I turned around, my hands slipping in to his, and I pulled him towards the middle of the room. An upbeat song was playing and everybody was dancing and jumping around. Jughead huffed, not wanting to go, but I knew he wouldn't resist if I tried hard enough.

I finally got him to the middle of the room, my hands lacing with his, my back pressed against his chest as my hips swayed back and forth to the music. I could feel Jughead was tense, so I gave him a little incentive by pushing my lower body in to his slightly, and I heard his breath shudder a bit before he was moving his body against mine and his lips were on my neck.

"we should go back to your place."Jughead whispered, his lips brushing against my skin. I tilted my neck so he could have easier access, taking his hands in mine and running them down the sides of my body. With the way his body was moving against mine, and all the things he had been sharing with me earlier, it would be an understatement to say I was worked up. I grabbed his hand again, weaving through the crowds and shouting a goodbye to Betty and Veronica before starting the trek to my house. Jughead and I walked hand in hand, slowing down every once in a while to kiss each other.

"When we get home, you're in for it."

"Oh, I know."

“And you keep me in with those hips, while my teeth sink in those lips, while your body's giving me life, and you suffocate in my kiss.”

"Fuck, Forsythe." I hissed, my nails digging in to his back. My hips moved slowly down on to his length, my fingers moving up his back and in to his hair. His hands were wrapped around my body, his lips biting harshly at my shoulder. When I felt my body adjust to him, I rose my hips before sinking back down on to him again.Jughead captured my lips with his, his teeth biting gently in to my bottom lip. We lazily kissed as I moved up and down slowly, my walls tightening around him slightly. Jughead held me as close to his body as he could, our chests pressed together.

I was on cloud 9 every time I was intimate with Jug. Everything about him was breath taking, and he was so beautiful when he was like this: his lips slightly parted, his curly hair matted down and sticking to his forehead, and his body shining from the warmth of our bodies colliding.

I started to move my hips a little faster, grinding down on to Jughead's hips. Jughead buried his face in to the crook of my neck, and his arms wrapped around me even tighter, if that was possible. I used whatever energy I had left to move my hips faster, bringing Jughead and I both to the edge. I could feel the warmth in the pit of my stomach, warning me that I was close.

"F-fuck, Forsythe,I-"

"I know, baby." Jughead began to meet his hips with mine on every thrust, one arm unwrapping from around my body to press the pad of his finger to my clit. I gasped at the sensation, my nails scratching against his back harder.

"Shit, shit, I-I'm-" I cut myself off, not having enough breath to finish my sentence. I felt my stomach tighten and then I was cumming on Jughead's dick, a quiet moan escaping my lips. I kept thrusting against him, riding out my high while he chases his, soon I was being hit with overstimulation, but I powered through it, bouncing against Jughead as fast as I could.

"Fuck, fuck, shit, I'm gonna-" strings of curse words escaped Jughead's lips as he flipped us over, pounding in to me as hard as he could. His lips went around on of my nipples, sucking harshly, and his fingers rubbed quickly and forcefully against my clit, drawing out another orgasm from me.

Before I knew it, I was cumming again, this time Jughead following as he came inside me. Jughead's body collapsed on top of mine, not before pulling out of me slowly. My hands tangled themselves in his hair and his arms went back around my body, his head laying against my chest. I could feel his heart race against my own beating heart, and I looked down at my beautiful boyfriend, as I smiled.He was all mine.

“The way we love, is so unique, and when we touch, I'm shivering.”

I woke up to the light shining from my bedroom window, the rays of sun peeking through my curtains and casting rays of light along the sleeping bodies of Jughead and I. The night before had been our one year anniversary, and he "spent the night", Which resulted in to this morning, the both of us naked in my bed. Jughead was already awake, his fingers tracing along my arms.Goosebumps ran along my skin at the feeling of his touch, leaning up to give him a kiss.

"Good morning, sunshine." Jughead mumbled against my lips. I giggled as his fingers went to my sides, tickling me the slightest bit.

"Good morning, handsome." I smiled down at him, my eyes practically in the shapes of hearts. I loved this boy to death. He was the most perfect thing I had ever found in this world.

"How are you feeling?" He asked me, his fingers stopping so his arms could wrap around my back. He pulled our bodies tighter together.

"I'm great." I told him, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. Jughead's face scrunched up slightly and I giggle again, my hands cupping his cheeks.

"I love you, so much. So, so, soso much." I started pressing kisses all over his face and I felt it scrunch up again before catching my lips with his. Jughead wasn't a super affectionate person in public, so I loved these moments I had with him, hidden away under my covers, where it was just the two of us.

“And no one has to get it, just you and me.”

"I swear to god, you two are the most sickeningly cute couple in..in... In god knows what!" Veronica threw her hands up dramatically before slamming them down on to the table at the booth. She looked at the two of us, who sat across from each other. Jughead and I didn't break our eye contact, still looking at each other and smiling brightly.

"Come on, V.It's cute. They're cute." Betty defended, sitting across from her girlfriend.

“ I know, but look at them! All they do is stare at each other like its the morning after their first time." Veronica scoffed before pausing for a second. Her mouth opened in shock before she whispered loudly.

"You guys fucked!" Jughead and I broke apart at that, looking at Veronica with wide eyes. I was about to shake my head when Jughead interrupted.

"We've been fucking, V. Catch up." Ronnie and Betty's mouth fell open simultaneously at the confidence in Jughead's voice.He leaned back in the booth and turned his attention back to me, cheekily winking at me. My cheeks grew hot as I looked back at my best friends, mouths still open in shock.

"You guys, you, you're-" Ronnie stammered, looking back and forth at each other. Jughead and I started laughing at Ronnie's reaction, and she sputtered.

"I don't get your relationship. I seriously don't." Ronnie slumped in her seat, her chin resting in the palm of her hand.

"Cheer up, V. It's y/n and Jughead. Nobody gets it except them." Jughead and I had already tuned out Betty though, our attention going back to each other. Nobody had to understand our relationship, because it wasn't theirs. It was ours, And it was perfect.

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