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write-tama · 7 months ago

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"hank.. what am i feeling right now?"

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ connor anderson (4k800) x officer!reader

sypnosis ; connor is very interested in an officer who just joined the police force. after being told the news that they would be joining the team, connor just had to make an acquaintance with them. anything to hear their voice.

containing ; use of you/yours and they/them pronouns! connor struggling to process emotions. hank being a proud father.

author’s note ; hihi! havent written for connor in SO long so i thought this was a cute little way of them meeting each other. connor is a

04.12.24 | 1.9k words

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Everyone knew about the infamous RK800.

The last most developed and intelligent android produced by Cyberlife.

A machine built to hunt its prey and to always accomplish his mission.

But now?

A confused man sitting at his desk, elbows on the surface as he ran the fourth diagnostic this morning.

Connor was never really taught how to feel his emotions, considering that he was forced to compress them from the moment he was made. If he were to feel any sort of emotion, it was either to the scrap factory for him or a hard lecture from Amanda.

But Amanda was gone, and androids were free to express any emotion they pleased.

It’s been weeks since Markus hit the headlines for his famous android revolution. He worked with the government extensively to pass bills in order to settle android rights for the country. Connor, on the other hand, continued to work with the DPD as a full-on detective under the supervision of Liutenant Hank Anderson. Hank was more than just a coworker, but a father figure to Connor. And that brought Connor joy, an emotion Connor was well aquainted of.

But not the feeling he was experiencing now.

Connor couldn’t get his mind off a certain someone who had joined the team a bit before the revolution. You had joined a week prior, and honestly, you were kind of regretting it. As android and human tensions rose, you were on duty 24/7. Originally, you were supposed to start easy with basic patrol around a part of a city, but because you were so impatient in doing the “big kid stuff” you found yourself frequently in the middle of the android and human discourse. Your shifts nearly lasted twelve hours, and you would be absolutely exhausted.

Things are different now. Sure, there were still some situations between the two sides, but it was definitely peace compared to literal boycotts. You sat at your desk idly scrolling through your past cases, making sure that all the information was correct and accurate. On the other side of your desk was a tablet full of notes you had taken after some cases you had to deal with. What you didn’t notice was the android detective constantly glancing at you, watching your every move to see if maybe, at some point, you would notice him.

A loud groan echoing from the desk in front of Connor made him jump, immediately turning his attention to his lieutenant taking a seat in his chair. “Fucking hell..” Hank sighed. “Fowler does nothing but my bust my balls these days, huh?” Connor stared at his partner with his hands folded in his lap and eyebrows furrowed.

“Is everything okay, Lieutenant?” Connor asked, tilting his head.

“It’s nothing too serious. Fowler just wants me to take the rookie on our next homicide case. He insisted that they would be a perfect addition to the team or whatever.” Hank groaned. “Now I’m responsible for two of you fucks.”

Connor, admittedly, felt his thirium pump racing. You? As part of the team? It was almost like he could overheat and shutdown momentarily right now. “I think they would be a great addition to the team.” Connor stated, biting back from smiling. “They have an excellent track record of solving cases in an orderly and timely manner, has caught every perpretrator with their undercover skills, and had a reputation back in their training classes as one of the top students.” He explained. Hank looked over as he was slouched in his seat with arms folded across his chest.

“Jesus, Connor, you sound like some creep searching up their name on Google.” Hank scoffed, half smiling. Though this caught Connor a little off— was he being creepy? He didn’t want to leave a bad impression on you, especially now that you're about to meet for the first time. His face scrunched up in anxiety, feeling as if he made a mistake. Hank immediately took notice and sat up. “Ah— I was just joking, Connor. I’m sure you have uh.. Good intentions.” Hank reassured, though he never said he was exactly good at it.

Hank looked over to you, seeing that you were preoccupied with work despite the fact you haven’t been on a case in a few days now. Hank looked at Connor. “Well.. Why don’t you introduce yourself to them.” Hank suggested, nodding his head over to you.

Connor immediately jolted his head up, a little wide-eyed to even suggest such. “O-Of course.” Connor stuttered out. Connor never stuttered, and though Hank was in a mood after his exchange with Fowler, he certainly didn’t leave that unnoticed.

“Did you just stutter?” Hank asked, a little amused. “Are you.. Nervous?”

“Of course not, Lieutenant,” Connor replied as steadily as possible. “I am an android.”

“Connor.”

“Yes?” Connor replied, mindlessly.

“You’re a deviant, for fucks sake.”

“Oh.”

Connor, to avoid anymore embarassment from the man he deemed his father figure, swiftly got up and started to approach you. Hank watched in pure amusement, not even wanting to stop the boy from probably embarassing himself even further, but at least Hank had some faith in him. He is Detroit’s best god damn detective.

“Hello, Officer (l/n). My name is Connor. It is nice to meet you.” Connor said, putting his hand out for a shake. You looked up from your computer screen only to be met with the most chocolate eyes you’ve ever had the privilege of being in the prescence of. He smiled politely, but behind that smile he thanked Elijah that androids could not sweat, otherwise you would’ve felt the claminess of his palm.

You took his hand and shook it firmly. “A pleasure to make your aquaintance. My name is (y/n).” You smiled generously, and wow, did Connor felt like his pump couldn’t get any faster.. He cleared his throat before darting his eyes to the unoccupied chair that sat next to your desk.

“May I?” Connor asked, gesturing towards the seat.

“Of course, I’m not doing much anyway.” You nodded. Connor took a seat, and for some reason, he struggled to even maintain his balance as he sat himself down. He nearly had to think about how to fold his hands before placing them firmly on his laps and looking at you. Thankfully, you barely realized any sort of struggle as you looked away to take a swig of your morning coffee.

“So..” you said, clasping your hands. “Am I in trouble or anything?” you joked. Connor immediately shot his head up, worried he had made the wrong impression.

“Oh, no— I—” Before Connor could sputter out an explanation, you tilted your head a little and started laughing.

“Relax! I was just kidding!” You playfully waved off. Connor’s shoulders immediately relaxed as a breath he didn’t even know he was holding back escaped his lips. You looked at him curiously, a smile still resting on your face.

“I’m sorry. Usually, I am not like this.” He said, shaking his head a little in embarassment. He was always on his A game and constantly prepared. Why were you the reason for this disruption. “I.. Uh..” He couldn’t think of anymore to say. Suddenly, he got a message through his LED.

NEW MESSAGE:

HANK: tell them u think theyre pretty.

Connor blinked a bit, registering the text message. Hank was at a perfect view watching this unfold. The back of your head was visible but he could see all of Connor’s reactions, who desperately tried to maintain a polite smile.

“I think you’re very pretty, (y/n).” Connor complimented.

“Oh— ah—” A subtle blush began to form on your cheeks as your eyes widen a little, not expecting a compliment from a handsome android such as Connor. “Why thank you, Connor. I wasn’t expecting that as our first conversation.” You chuckled a little. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

Thirium was rushing through his circuits and to his cheeks. The faintest color of blue appeared dusted on his face. “Thank you.” He maintained a calm, neutral voice. They stared at each other for a minute, sort of registering the sort of corny first conversation the two of you had.

“Ah.. I almost forgot to mention.” Connor snapped back to reality. “I came here to introduce myself sfter I heard that you were joining our team on our next investigation. It’s good to make an aquaintance with our future team member.” Connor smiled politely.

“Why thank you. I am very excited to work with you and Lieutenant Anderson.” You nodded. “Though I will miss working with Gavin and Chris’ team.”

Ah, that’s right. You used to work with Gavin. It almost left a bad taste in Connor’s mouth knowing that Gavin probably spat some awful opinions about him to you. Though from the looks of it, you were enjoying your conversation with him which eased him.

“I promise we will a provide a welcoming and safe space in our team, and of course, to make sure you don’t come into harms way.” Connor assured. Though he was mainly promising this to you personally. God forbids Connor seeing you get hurt.

“Why thank you, Connor.” You said, tilting your head. Connor was rather intriguing to you— an android acting this way around you. His LED constantly switched between yellow and blue as if he was making sure to process every word you uttered. Yet he was so human— he would scratch the back of his neck, fidget with his fingers, and shuffle a bit in his seat. You would think someone as advanced as him would at least be able to have a composure, but he was different. It was something you admired about him.

“(l/n), in my office!” Captain Fowler called from the balcony of his room. You looked over to Connor before sighing.

“Well, boss is calling me. I’ll talk to you afterwards?” You suggested as you stood from your seat.

“Of course.” Connor replied, shielding his excitement. He stood up from his chair as well. “I’d be happy to talk again, (y/n).”

“Likewise.” You winked. With that, you left your desk and headed straight to Fowler’s office. Connor stood shellshocked. Did you just.. Wink at him?! Connor’s eyes slowly drifted to Hank, who was chuckling heartily. He gave Connor an assuring thumbs up as Connor made his way back to their desks.

“You’d be a shit detective if this is how you acted all the time.” Hank snickered. Connor grinned a little before taking a seat back at his desk.

“I know.” Connor sighed, leaning a little back in his chair. He at you through the glass walls, noticing your upright posture and the way you listened intently to Captain Fowler’s words. He looked over to Hank before thinning his lips.

“Lieutenant?” Connor asked.

“What is it, son?”

“What am I.. Feeling right now?” Connor asked, a little lost on how to explain it. “I can only think about them— only envision them when I close my eyes. I get nervous and its like my programming has reduced to 0s and 1s.” He sighed, hell, even a little frustrated that you had this affect on him.

Hank with a wide smile, shook his head and looked at Connor with a knowing stare. Connor looked up, both lost while desperate for an answer and maybe even a cure. Hank sat up and made sure to look at Connor right in the yes.

“Connor,” Hank sighed, grinning. “Son, that feeling your experiencing is called love. And your plastic ass better get used to it.”

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thank you so much for reading towards the end ! im sorry if its a little messy-- i quickly had to post this before hanging out w some friends but i just wanted to get this out of the way rq! reblogs, replies, and even likes are so so appreciated <3

#detroit become human #connor detroit become human #connor x reader #connor x you #connor rk800 #connor dbh x reader #dbh connor #dbh rk800 #rk800 x reader #dbh #detroit become human fanfics #hank anderson #connor anderson #4k800 #connor 4k800 x reader #dbh 4k800 #4k800 x reader

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writingreadinglurkingandsmirking · 1 year ago

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Hold Me Down (Is This A New Start?) - Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: After a long, hard day of work you just want to go home and go to bed. But, when you get a persistent knock on your door from Rafe fucking Cameron. you know you’re gonna have a long night ahead. Letting him in, after two months of not seeing him, you fully anticipated a screaming match. But, you got something much different than you bargained for—much better too.

CW/TWs: brief angst, brief mentions of Rafe being on house arrest lol, feminine pronouns used, gorgeous/sweet girl/baby/darlin' as nicknames, toxic behavior, canon-adjacent Rafe, mean-ish Rafe, smut, piv sex, oral sex (male receiving), impact play, (not really) lowkey daddy kink, brat reader, dumbification, degradation kink, praise kink, overstimulation, breath play, unprotected sex (be safe I am nawt your mom gn), allusions to a pain kink for sure, mushy gushy sweet ending, not highly edited or reviewed

Words: 8.1k+

Note: 18+ MDNI, really just fucking don’t. I wrote this one in first person because writing in second person irritates my very soul. Uhhhh so this kinda came out of left field and I did nawt plan on writing this but here we are! But such is life! Anyways…back to regularly scheduled programming.

It had been a long day - too long. There was something exceedingly exhausting about living paycheck to paycheck that the average person didn’t understand. There was nothing quite as specific as the exhaustion that you encountered by overworking yourself day after day, week after week, month after month, all for nothing. Because that’s what this all amounted to. Nothing. Nothing extra at the end of the week to take home, nothing to do anything nice with. Just nothing. And nothing sucked the joy out of your day like knowing you’d have to get up the next day and do it all over again.

When I’d finally gotten home from a shift that didn’t end until almost the crack of fucking dawn - a good twelve hours after I was supposed to have gotten off shift - there was not a thing I wanted more than to sleep. Still, even as I sat on my fucking couch, my woes could not end. There was a loud, demanding knock on the door.

The first time I ignored it.

The second time I ignored it.

The third time, an annoyed voice accompanied the knock.

“Baby, open the fucking door,” came the snarl from the other side. I groaned and ran my hands down my face. I really didn’t want to deal with Rafe today. Not like that had ever deterred him before. “Baby, come on. Listen. Please. The cops are fucking trolling around outside. Baby, please open the door.”

I groaned and pulled myself to my feet, opening the apartment door. Standing there, looking at pitiful as ever was Rafe fucking Cameron. The bane of my existence. My more-or-less on-again-off-again boyfriend—though I’d sooner bash my head against the door than admit that. I glared at the ass who had done nothing but make my life harder since he’d entered it. Then, I stepped to the side and let him in. He stepped in and closed the door quickly, locking it behind him. He turned to me and pressed an absent-minded kiss to my forehead before going to sit down on the couch.

“You look like shit, darlin’,” he said. When he even had the decency to look up and notice I was there.

“Thanks,” I said dryly. I looked down at his leg. His ankle monitor looked fucked. “What the fuck did you do this time?”

“Just a little mod,” he said casually. “I needed to get out for a minute.”

“Why did you come here?” I demanded. “Did you stash more fucking coke in my house I swear to fucking God I will kill you. I am not catching a fucking charge for you, asshole.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why would I leave my coke with you knowing that you’d throw it out, baby? That’s just bad business. Besides, darlin’ the cops aren’t outside for me some loser is probably getting caught selling a few doors down again. And hey? It’s a crime to want to see you now, darlin’?” he asked, winking.

“No. But it is a crime to skip out on house arrest, Rafe,” I said blandly. “And I know damn well that you’re not here because you want to see me. I’m just convenient to you like fucking always.”

He rolled his eyes as if I were being the dramatic one. “What’s wrong now, gorgeous?” he drawled. “Always seems like there’s something these days, hmm?”

I clenched my jaw. “Fuck you, Rafe. Get the hell out,” I snapped.

Rafe frowned. Stood again and walked over to me. He placed his hands on my hips, refusing to leave. I, in turn, refused to look at him. “Look at me, darlin’,” he demanded. Reluctantly I did. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t answer. He brushed my hair back from my face and just kept looking at me. “Come on, sweet girl. Tell me…what’s wrong.” He smiled to himself when I still didn’t answer. “You know better than anyone I’m not going to leave until you tell me, baby…so come on…what’s wrong with my sweet girl?”

“Fuck you,” I repeated weakly, pulling out of his arms. I plopped down on my couch, curling into myself and closing my eyes. “Just fucking leave when you see the cops are gone. I can’t be bothered today.” The asshole had the audacity to laugh at my words. “Shut the fuck up, Rafe.”

Dramatically, Rafe sighed and knelt down on the ground in front of me. I felt him grab my knees and pull me to face him. I had no choice but to unfurl, otherwise, I would’ve fallen into him, which I had no interest in doing. So, I leaned back into the couch, trying to ignore the heat of his hand sinking into my cold legs through worn jeans. It was hard to ignore that. Hard to ignore any of him, really. And he knew that. That’s why he only waited through my stubborn silence for a few minutes.

“Come on, baby,” he hummed. “Tell me what’s wrong. I’m sorry I’m a dick, darlin’…you know I care.”

I laughed weakly, eyes still closed. “No. No, you don’t,” I said flatly.

He ignored my words and kept rubbing my legs. “It’s so fucking cold in here, baby,” he commented. “And your legs are freezing. Your heat not working?”

“No, it's working. It’s just too fucking expensive to heat this shitty goddamn apartment and I’m not forking over more money to the cunt landlord,” I said sharply, glaring at him. “Did you suddenly forget what life is like if—” I cut myself off, shaking my head.

He had the audacity to glare back if you could believe it. Then, he slapped my inner thigh. “I told you to call me if you needed help,” he hissed. He slapped my other thigh. “The fuck are you doing? What game are you playing at, baby?”

I pushed him away from me with my foot. “A game where I don’t need to rely on a man who is a fucking wannabe felon,” I snapped.

He rolled his eyes and got to his feet. “Newsflash, baby, you do need me,” he said, sounding way too smug about it.

“Fuck you, Rafe. I need a bullet to the brain more than I need you,” I sneered.

“That’s cute.” He continued on like I didn’t even speak in the first place. “I could give you that, if you want. But that doesn’t change anything about it, darlin’. You need my money, you need my cock, you need my love. You’ve said it yourself that no one gives it to you as good as I do. And I know you haven’t been looking which means you’re still as invested in this as I am. So.” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. “When I tell you if you need my fucking money to heat your stupid apartment because your ass is too stubborn to move in with me…then you fucking call me.”

“You are not my fucking father,” I snapped, pulling out of his tough.. “Like I said. Bullet to the fucking brain before this shit anymore. I’m sick of it.”

“I don’t know. You do call me daddy a lot,” he mocked. He smiled down at me, but there was hardly any warmth to it. “But, oh? You’re so sick of it, hmm? You want to be brainless?” He laughed. “Well, I can make you brainless without having to put a hole in your pretty little head.” He wound his hand tightly in my hair, pulling my face towards his while I sharply inhaled. “And you’ll remember exactly why you’re not done with me, gorgeous.”

I glared at him. “I haven’t seen you in two months. The last time I did see you, you called me a stupid, worthless cunt and told me that you never wanted to see me again. And you think you can just show up here and get me to listen to you?” I demanded. I felt my face heating with my frustration. “Just like that? You think you’re…you think you’re worth me listening to?” I laughed. “Like I said. Fuck you, Rafe. I deserve…I deserve so much better than this. Than you.”

There was a mocking pout on his face. He reached out and grabbed my face again, squeezing my chin. “You think you’re going to find someone better than me?” he asked incredulously. He let out a laugh. “And where do you think you’ll find someone like that?” I didn’t answer. I refused to give him the satisfaction. He chuckled, but then his face went serious. “I’m sorry that I haven’t seen you in months, darlin’. I’m sorry that I said I never wanted to see you again. I was pissed, sweet girl. I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh you never mean it,” I said, the sarcasm’s impact dampened by the tearful sound of my voice.

He moved his hand from my chin to cup my face. I hated myself for it, but I did lean into the touch. “Come on, sweet girl…don’t be like that, baby,” he said. He leaned forward and dropped a kiss to the side of my neck. “You know that I love you.” Another kiss, followed by a short nip. “I’ve been busy, darlin’. That’s all. I’m sorry. I should’ve called, sweet girl. I know that. I’m not mad.”

“You were mad,” I accused, glaring at him.

“I was mad, baby,” he said, deceptively calm. “I was…frustrated that you wouldn’t let me take care of you. I just want what’s best for you. But I’m not mad anymore.”

“Well maybe I’m mad at you,” I retorted, harshness still lessened by the teary voice and the way I leaned into him.

“That’s okay,” he practically cooed. He pressed another kiss to my neck then moved so we were face to face, just a breath between us. He smirked, eyes drifting down to my lips and then back up. “You can be mad at me as long as you want, sweet girl. Just as long as you tell me that you love me.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. “No,” I said stubbornly.

“Come on, sweet girl, please,” Rafe purred, stroking my neck with his hand lazily. “I love you, darlin’.”

“I love you,” I said, voice breaking. My eyes popped open and I felt the tears in them.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t waver, but his eyes did soften. He let out a hum and wiped a tear that slipped. “There’s my sweet girl,” he cooed. He leaned forward and pressed a long, languid kiss to my lips. “Let me make it up to you, baby.” Another long kiss—lazier this time. “Let me apologize for calling you names, baby.” Another kiss. “Remind you that you’re my special, sweet girl.”

I huffed. “Oh so you wanna fuck me and suddenly I’m not a stupid, worthless cunt then?” I spat, voice dripping insecurity.

Rafe rolled his eyes so hard I was shocked that his eyes didn’t stick in the back of his head. “You’re not a stupid, worthless cunt. You’re my sweet girl and you know it,” he drawled. “I was a little fucking high when I said that. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

I gave him a withering glare. “Oh and you’re not high now?” I asked even though I could already tell he wasn’t. He gave me a flat look and I deflated, leaning back, covering my face as I leaned against the arm of the couch. I sniffled. “Okay, I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I didn’t mean it.”

He chuckled dryly and rubbed my leg gently. “It’d be fair if you did,” he drawled. He squeezed my leg. “And it’s fine that it’s not fair, sweet girl. I wasn’t fair. So.” He grabbed my legs and lowered them both to the floor. He gently pried my legs open leaning further into my space, hands dancing up both my thighs now. “How about I be real nice and make it up to you?”

“No,” I said stubbornly, glaring half-heartedly down at him. I felt his hand toy with the waist of my jeans, dancing just over the button. “I don’t want you to.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, unconvinced considering I’d begun to lean into his space more, opening my legs to give him more space to occupy, more space to get closer. “Oh?” he posed, tone almost mocking. “You don’t want to?”

“No,” I corrected, grabbing his hand, putting it back on my hair to silently prompt him to grab it just as he did before. “I don’t want you to be nice.” I glowered at him .”It’s been two months, Rafe. I need…”

He let out a low chuckle, eyes dark with quickly emerging lust. “Fuck, darlin’, tell me…what do you need?” he asked.

I blinked slowly, still looking right into his eyes, intoxicated by him already from such a short time together. “I need you to take care of me like you always do,” I said quietly.

Immediately, his hand wound tightly through my hair and he rose to his feet, forcing me to tilt my head up. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as I looked up at him, my eyes wide and wanting. I bit my lip, eyes trailing slowly down his body, to his belt at my eye level, and then back up. He chuckled again, grinning down at me. He wound his hand a bit tighter in my hair making me let out a squeak as he dragged me just a bit closer to his body.

“You need me to take care of you?” he posed, tone just shy of mocking. “Need me to help turn off that gorgeous fucking brain of yours, baby?” He used his free hand to trail down my cheek, fingers briefly touching my neck and stopping there. “Need me to fuck you stupid, sweet girl?”

Taking a shaky breath, I reached out, hand loosely holding his belt buckle. “Yes,” I said breathlessly.

I reveled in the sudden, sharp sting in my cheek. “Try again,” he warned, voice raspy.

“Yes…please fuck me stupid, daddy,” I said, batting my eyes up at him. “I don’t wanna think anymore.”

“Fuck,” Rafe muttered, his voice raspier still, thick with lust. He chuckled and loosened his hand in my hair before dropping it. He took his shirt off and then knotted a hand back in my hair. “Okay, baby. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of my sweet girl.” He stroked my cheek gently with his free hand before moving it to his belt buckle and undoing it with ease. He then smirked down at me, inclining his head. “Well? Take me out, darlin’.” I glanced down at his open belt but he tutted, tilting my chin back up. “No, baby. Keep your eyes on me.” His request was one that was most easy for me to accommodate considering I felt like I’d die if I looked away from him.

My hands trembled as I reached forward, taking the belt off of him. I was ready to throw it to the side but Rafe held out a hand. Without even questioning it, I placed it in his hand. He then set it to the side and gestured with his head at me to continue. Which, I happily did. I heard him let out a quiet chuckle as I undid the button on his pants and brought down the zipper without breaking eye contact. I almost hastily pulled down the fabric until it sagged the rest of the way down. I raised my eyebrows at Rafe in a silent plea.

“What, baby?” he asked, amused, tightening his grip on my hair. I let out a weak whine and pouted. “What? You gotta tell me what you want, sweet girl. Use your words.”

“I wanna see your cock,” I responded, hooking my hand on the hem of the waistband of his boxers. I tilted my head to the side, jutting my bottom lip out further. “Please, daddy.”

He let out a dark chuckle. “Okay, baby,” he drawled. I hummed, pleased with myself, and looked down, prepared to take his boxers off. But, he tutted, turning my head up with his grip on my hair so I’d meet his eyes again. “Nuh, uh, darlin’. Keep those gorgeous eyes on me still. Don’t you dare even think about looking at my cock yet, baby. Just get it out.”

“But—” I began to complain before being silenced with another warning slap on the cheek making me whine and pull back slightly; not that Rafe let me get very far.

“No but, baby. You listen to me. Be a good girl,” Rafe warned, tone darkening. “You know I want what’s best for you, right, sweet girl?” I nodded through teary eyes, looking back up at him. He cursed under his breath at the sight, tightening and then loosening his hand in my hair once more. “Good girl, baby. Such a good fucking girl. Now, get my cock out. And don’t even look at it.”

I shivered at the order but complied. I reached and used two fingers to gently drag the fabric of the boxers down until they too gave way, falling down past his knees. Using every bit of restraint I had, I kept my eyes locked on his, refusing to look at his dick even as it hung directly in front of my face. Rafe hummed, his free hand moving from his side to wrap around himself, pumping lazily. I swallowed, biting my tongue as a reminder to keep my eyes up. A mocking laugh fell from Rafe’s mouth at the sight and I felt my stomach tighten.

“Oh there’s my good girl,” he cooed. “She can finally fucking listen, huh? So proud of you baby. Little slut that you are, I didn't think you’d be able to do it.” I let out a tiny whimper at his words, feeling a growing, heated pit of arousal low in my stomach. I shifted slightly, just barely able to keep my eyes from falling down. He chuckled again and pursed his lips. “How about you take your clothes off for me baby? Then I’ll let you look all you want at your favorite part of me.”

“All my clothes, daddy?” I checked. He nodded. I all but raced myself to do so. I whipped off the shirt I had on with ease and shimmied out of my jeans easily enough. Sitting there in my bra and panties, Rafe told me to stop and so I paused, looking up at him. “Yes, daddy?”

“Nothing, darlin’…just wanna look at you a minute,” he said, eyes dark with lust. “So fucking pretty, baby. God on fucking high, can’t imagine what I did to deserve such a blessing.”

“Stop,” I dismissed, blushing.

“Nah, baby. You’re a fucking twelve-course meal and I plan to have all of ‘em,” he dismissed, stepping closer and grabbing my chin. “And you aren’t gonna say some dumb shit like that again. We clear, baby?”

“Yes, daddy,” I murmured, feeling his thumb ghost up to trace my bottom lip. My breath hitched in my throat and he seemed to remember himself.

He pulled away and smirked down at me. “Bra and panties off. Let me see that pretty pussy, darlin’. Been missing it so much while I was gone,” he purred. I shivered at his words but peeled them off, shivering at the cold feeling of the air against my nipples and the cool fabric of the couch against my exposed core, quickly growing wet. “Fuck you’re so pretty. Look at you…all this…just for me.” He came closer again—even more this time—and his hand loosely went around my jaw, jerking my head up. “You are just for me, aren’t you baby?” I nodded immediately. He glared, his voice gruffer. “Words, darlin’. Or I might not be inclined to be too nice to you.”

“Yes, daddy,” I said breathlessly, wide-eyed. “All yours. Just for you.” I felt my heart beating rapidly in anticipation of seeing Rafe smile down at me. “Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?” he asked, hand still hooked around my jaw.

“Can I look please?” I asked sweetly, pouting up at him.

His lips quirked into a smirk and he narrowed his eyes looking at me, appraising. “I don’t know, baby. You think I should let you?” he asked.

“Please,” I said, pouting. “I just wan’ you. Want to see you. Wanna have you.”

“Awe with my sweet girl saying all that, well how could I say no?” he drawled, removing his hand from my neck to trail back and join the other in my hair. “Go ahead and look, darlin’. Take as long as you’d like.”

Ever so slowly, I broke my eye contact with Rafe, trailing my gaze down to his dick. Rafe’s confidence even as he stood bare as the day he was born was one of the things that had initially attracted me to him. But, looking at him now, lazily pumping his hand over his cock while he smirked down at me? I don’t think that I’d ever been quite so down bad for him. Which was…concerning, maybe? Pathetic, perhaps? But I didn’t care. At that moment, with his long, thick dick just hovering right in front of me, all I could think about was how badly I wanted him. Of how long I’d wanted him…of how long I’d waited.

“What? I don’t even gotta fuck you to turn that pretty brain off anymore?” he said, voice an alluring growl as he let out a dark sort of chuckle. “Got you so trained to take my dick you don’t even try to fight it, do you sweet girl?”

I shifted at his words, suddenly feeling my core flutter at his words, clenching regrettably—miserably—around nothing. His smirk increased tenfold at that and he stepped closer so that there was practically no space between us, not that there had been much before. Now, his cock stood proudly just next to my face. Again, ever so slowly I raised my eyes to meet his again. And the desperation must’ve been clear in my gaze if the smug, self-satisfied look in his were anything to go by.

“And this was supposed to be for you,” he hummed. “My dumb little baby won’t be able to think for herself and tell me what she wants when I get started, will she?” I let out a pathetic little whimper. “You just need something in that sweet little pussy and your perfect mouth, huh?” His eyes trailed down to my lips, briefly displaying the heated desire he was feeling before moving to meet mine again. “Tell me one thing, darlin’, okay? Think your cute lil’ brain can take that?”

“Yes, daddy,” I said, voice coming out breathy. I squirmed slightly, squeezing my thighs together to avoid doing something like grinding on the couch and making him stop this before it even started.

“I don’t have too much patience before I gotta get in that tight fucking cunt, gorgeous,” he drawled. “So…tell me. You want me to eat that pretty pussy? Or do you want to choke on my cock?” He grinned, sharp-edged and shark-like. “It’s up to you.” An aborted moan came out of me at his words. The answer for me, right now, at least, was obvious. I glanced down at his dick and then back up. “Nuh uh, darlin’. You tell me which one you want.”

“I want you to fuck my throat,” I whined, looking up at him wide-eyed.

Rafe chuckled, hands tightening in my hair. “I’ll give you a pass on not addressing me properly this once because you said something so sweet, darlin’. But don’t do it again,” he said, half-mocking, half-warning. I nodded eagerly. One hand released my hair. He pat my cheek and then held my jaw tightly between two fingers. “That’s my girl.” The possessiveness dripped off his tone. “Now be good for daddy and open that fucking mouth.”

My mouth fell open without much thought after that. He grinned as I left it open, tongue sticking out just the way he liked it. His thumb pressed down on my tongue, head tilting slightly to the side as he looked at me. I moaned at even that simple feeling, my body practically trembling with want for him. But, for a good few long moments, that’s all he did, slowly pressing his thumb more against my tongue. But, after a few moments, he drew it away, using his free hand to lazily pump his cock—still only half-hard—in his hand. I inhaled shakily, eyes looking at his heavy cock, knowing the weight and feel of it without even touching it.

“Mmm,” Rafe said, letting out a leisurely sigh as he jerked himself off in front of me. “You want my dick, sweet girl?” I nodded eagerly, tongue still shamelessly hanging out of my mouth. “You want me to make you choke on my fucking cock, baby?” Again, I nodded and he groaned. “You’re so fucking sexy, darlin’, fuck.” I watched with rapt attention as a bead of pre-cum leaked from the tip of his dick. I heard Rafe chuckle not a moment later. “Holy shit are you drooling, baby? Fuck, you really want this dick, huh? Well, I don’t wanna leave you wanting.”

Rafe used the hand in my hair to bring my head closer and anchor it in place. His other hand still held his dick that he was bringing towards my awaiting mouth. The second I felt the tip of his dick touch my tongue I groaned in appreciation at finally having something, feeling myself growing wetter and wanting. Already, with him not even having touched me yet, I was a mess. Rafe knew it damn well too. He chuckled, slapping his dick against my tongue making me inhale sharply then let out a tiny little whimper.

“Should I stop teasing you baby?” he said, voice measured, even, and entirely unaffected—as if he were in a business meeting and not getting ready to ruin my throat. “Should I make sure you lose your voice tomorrow now?” I nodded as best I could while ensuring that his dick did not fall from my tongue which just made him let out another low groan. “Alright, then, baby. You asked for it. Time for you to put that fucking mouth to work.”

I barely had the time to inhale before I felt Rafe’s heavy member settling against my tongue. I let out a breathy moan, reflexively hollowing out my cheeks and bobbing my head to take him further into my mouth. I moved my hands to touch him and he slapped them away.

“No fucking hands,” he grunted, pulling my hair so I’d look up at him before pushing me down to the hilt of him, nose settling against his pelvis. He cursed and I felt his dick pulse in my mouth as he looked down at me, eyes dark and wanting. “So fucking pretty when I’m stretching your fucking mouth open, baby. Look at you. So fucking good.” My core fluttered again at his words, clenching and unclenching while I felt myself starting to dampen the couch slightly the wetter I got. “Gonna fuck your throat now, darlin’.”

With the minimal warning issued, he thrust heavily, pulling out of my mouth almost entirely before thrusting entirely back in. I forced myself to breathe through my nose, relaxing before something unfortunate could happen like my gag reflex being triggered. I moaned around him, using my tongue as little as I could find myself able to when he started to consistently, aggressively thrust himself to the back of my throat. I whimpered at the feeling, grinding absent-mindedly against the rough fabric of the couch, letting my tongue trace along the vein on the underside of his dick.

Rafe caught sight of my desperate rutting against the couch and he let out a dark, slightly breathless chuckle without interrupting the pace of his thrusting. “God, look at my desperate fucking baby. What, is daddy not taking care of you fast enough? Fuck,” he grunted. “You wanna grind like a desperate, needy, brainless little toy? I should make you fucking get off of my thigh without me touching you?” My choked whine of displeasure at the threat made him let out another mean sort of laugh. “Don’t worry, darlin’. That’s gonna be for later.” I let out another whine at the promise then. “Yeah, baby. Gonna make you get yourself off on my leg and then I’m gonna eat your pussy so good. Gonna make you cum for me at least five times before I stop. I’ll fucking tie you up if I gotta, gorgeous. Gonna make my sweet girl so overstimulated she’s not gonna think ‘bout anything but my fucking cock…my fucking mouth…my fucking hands.” Each word was punctuated by a pointed thrust down my throat. “As if you think about anything else, my dumb little fuckin’ baby, yeah?”

When he pulled out of my mouth entirely, releasing my hair, I reflexively gasped in a breath of air, eyes wide and watering. I looked up at him. But, Rafe was still non-plussed by how fucked out I already was. He wasn’t even pausing, barely breaking even a bead of sweat across his gorgeous, obscenely perfect body. No, instead, he knelt down in front of me, one hand making its way immediately to my pussy and finding my clit like two ends of a magnet attracting to each other. He let out a low tutting sound, shaking his head at me as I bucked my hips against his hand before I could stop myself.

“So fucking sloppy, pretty girl. Is this all for me?” he asked, his voice both teasing and harsh. “Barely even done anything to you, baby. You’re just that much of a needy little fuckin’ slut for me, huh?” I let out a high-pitched keening noise and he hummed, wrapping his hand around my throat to make me focus on him even as he slipped two thick digits inside of me. “You want me, baby?” His voice was husky, rasping and his alluring eyes were locked intently on me.

“Yes, daddy,” I whined, voice weak around the whining and moans that I couldn’t help but release as he finger fucked me into oblivion. Even with so little direct stimulation, I felt my legs starting to tremble and my stomach starting to tighten, coiling and ready to barrel quickly towards release. Rafe could tell too based on the way my pussy was practically trying to swallow his fingers whole. “Please.”

“Please what, sweet girl?” he cooed, pretending like he didn’t already know damn well what I wanted.

“Fuck me,” I begged.

“Oh but you sound so pretty when you’re whining, gorgeous,” he groaned. “And I need you to be nice and fuckin’ ready for me. So I need you to cum for me before I fuck you.” My stomach tightened further just on the edge of sweet, sweet release that I’d been missing the past two months while he was missing on fucking house arrest. “Okay, baby?”

“Okay,” I sobbed, hips trying to buck even as he used his massive hand to direct my hips to keep the rhythm he wanted, the other tightening around the outside of my throat, making my eyes roll.

“Good girl,” he huffed. He paused his speech a moment, his fingers moving even faster, making me choke out a sobbing moan, head falling back until he squeezed my throat again in warning, making me lift my head. He then issued a command. A single word. “Cum.”

And who was I to disobey?

The coil in my stomach exploded into a mirage of light behind my eyes as they rolled back. I felt a slightly shrill shriek erupt from my mouth more than I actually heard myself. And all that I could think of beyond the veil and haze of pleasure was the feeling of Rafe’s hands, his skin so close to me. He supported my body as I slumped against him, both of his hands moving to rest low on my hips.

“Good job, gorgeous. You look so fucking pretty falling apart for me,” he encouraged, his voice an appreciative, warm grumble of affection. His hands ghosted up and down my sides. “You ready for me to fuck you, pretty little thing?”

“Yes, daddy,” I said, letting out a long, shaky sigh. I reached out, hands trailing up the planes of his solid chest, leaning my head on him to listen to his steady, calm heartbeat. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Of course, baby,” he said. I could hear the smugness in his voice but I didn’t care. He leaned me back on the couch and moved to get up. I let out a whine of dissatisfaction and grabbed his hand tightly, pulling him back towards me. He looked amused as he raised a brow. “I have to go get a condom, sweet girl.”

“No,” I said stubbornly.

“No?” he asked.

“Have you been fucking bitches on house arrest?” I asked, bottom lip jutting out.

He reached out, pulling my lip down and looking at it in undisguised intrigue. “No,” he admitted.

“Well, then you haven’t worn a condom with me before. So fuck’s sake, Rafe just fuck me,” I demanded.

Rafe’s eyes had a hardened sort of glee to them. His hand moved before I registered it and my head turned as his palm made contact with my cheek. Again, my core clenched around nothing. This time, I bit back the moan that threatened to escape.

“Who?” he warned, sounding all too happy to remind me of my place.

“Fuck me, daddy,” I reiterated, still with an extreme attitude. “Fuck me, don’t pull out cum in me, I don’t care. Just fuck me, daddy.”

“Drop the attitude,” Rafe said, a final warning.

“No,” I spat, knowing exactly where it would get me. You know, right where I wanted.

Instead of slapping me again as I’d first expected, Rafe tilted my head up with just his pointer finger under my chin, his shark-like smile back again. “Do you want to be punished, baby?” he asked, sounding all too eager. I offered no answer. He used his free hand and slapped me, harder this time. I couldn’t bite back the moan this time, or the way that my hand tried to drift between my legs. He caught my wrist easily to stop me. “Answer me or I’m gonna stop. I’ll walk out the fucking door, darlin’.” My bottom lip quivered at the thought, chest heaving. “Do you want a punishment, baby?”

“Y-yes, daddy,” I admitted after another stubborn moment.

“Well why didn’t you say so, darlin’,” he cooed sarcastically.

In a flurry of movement, Rafe sat on the couch and had me over his knee. My bare, soaked cunt made contact with his hard knee and I choked on a moan at that feeling. I barely had time to register the change in position before he landed his first hit on my ass. I yelped at the feeling, reflexively trying to squirm away from the pain, even as I felt a jolt of pleasure at the feeling. Rafe held my hips in place easily with one hand, keeping me firmly on his lap, and used the other to lay a hard slap against my ass, making me yelp again.

“That feel fucking good baby?” he grunted, slapping me again. I didn’t answer, a sharp, hissing inhale coming from my mouth. Another slap. Another whimper. “You should be fucking thanking me for this, darlin’. Disciplining your unruly fucking ass. Making you my good girl.”

“Thank you, daddy. Thank you, thank you. Please,” I whimpered, reflexively trying to squirm once more when his hand made contact with my ass yet again.

“Please, what, sweet girl? Remind you that you’re fucking mine? Oh, I am gonna, darlin’. This is just part of it,” he ground out. I could feel his rock-hard cock pressed against my side and I was torn between wanting it stuffed in my mouth and my pussy. Both thoughts escaped from my mind entirely as he landed another slap against my ass.

“More,” I ground out through clenched teeth, barely able to resist the urge to grind against his thigh and knee with the desperation that I was feeling.

“Needy little slut, you are, huh?” he asked, amused. His hands stopped their cyclical pattern of slapping my ass to rub the abused flesh for a moment. I felt his hand move between my legs more, teasing my entrance with his fingers. Naturally, I opened my legs for him. He chuckled at that. “Can’t wait to be stuffed with me, can you? Already brain dead to everything but me, aren’t you, sweet girl? You’re just my little plaything right now, aren’t you?” I buried my face in the couch and let out a groan, feeling his hand circling my clit again, lazily, not creating enough friction to do anything.

“Daddy, please,” I whined.

“Don’t worry, pretty little thing. I know just what you need to cum again. I decided I need two from you before I fuck this sweet little fucking pussy,” he grunted. With sudden and almost startling accuracy, Rafe slapped me again. This time, his hand made contact not with my ass but with my pussy, the sharp slap making me gasp and jerk from the pain. I let out a half-aborted scream and rocked back into his palm, panting from surprise. He openly laughed. “You didn’t think I forgot how much you liked that, did you, darlin’? Remember that real fucking well? So I’m gonna take care of this pussy just the way I know you need it.” I let out a breathy moan mixed with a cry as he spanked my clit once more. Again and again and again he did it until I felt like I was dripping sweat on my whole body and my pussy was soaked with my juices—the couch too for that matter. “Fuck me, baby, your pussy is so pretty all puffy like this. She’s just crying for me. You want me so bad your poor fucking brain can’t handle it, can it?” I let out a pathetic little whimper, unable to muster much more. “I tell you what, darlin’. You cum from me slapping this pussy and I’ll fuck you til you pass out if that’s what you want. You wanna do that for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I gasped immediately, hardly even grasping the words just knowing that I wanted the pleasure that had been slowly building to finally reach its fucking crescendo.

“Good girl,” he said before unleashing a series of slaps to my pussy in a pattern that I couldn’t have anticipated if I were in his damn brain myself.

This time, as I tumbled over the edge of pleasure, I wailed, jerking against his hand. I collapsed against Rafe’s leg as the aftershock of the second orgasm washed over me. I gasped for air like I’d been drowning and I felt Rafe’s hand tracing up and down my back lazily. As I caught my breath, he placed a final sharp slap to my pussy making me let out a weak yelp of complaint. Without being too gentle, Rafe maneuvered me off of his lap and over the arm of the couch. He let out an appreciative groan and I lifted my head to look back at him. I was startled to see him lifting the belt. My eyes widened as I felt him wrap it around my wrists, quickly binding me.

“You’re not getting away from me, gorgeous. Not when I finally get to fuck my pussy again. You’re nice and ready for me,” he said, sounding almost absent-minded as he spoke to me. He grunted as he slid into me with a single thrust. When he bottomed out we both let out moans—his low and mine high and keening—and I felt my body shake. “Fuck. When you can feel your legs I’m gonna fuck you so hard in doggy you’re gonna not walk the day after. But right now I just gotta finish the job, baby. Gotta turn your fuckin’ brain off forever.”

With that, he started to purposefully piston his hips, holding my bound wrists behind my back for better leverage. I was nearly boneless, shrieking in pleasure as his hot, throbbing cock stretched me open and brushed against each and every nerve ending just right—at least that was how it felt. How he felt. His thrusts were deep and slow and pointed. I sobbed against the feeling, wanting to rut back into him to make him speed up. But, I couldn’t muster the strength. So I just let him fuck into me at his own pace and I felt myself starting to build towards another bout of pleasure—this bound to be even stronger than before if the stars already behind my eyes were anything to go by.

“Daddy, please,” I sobbed, not knowing if I wanted more or less stimulation, more or less pleasure, from him.

Regardless of what I wanted, Rafe didn’t say anything. He grunted out a noise of acknowledgment that I’d spoken then doubled down in his efforts to make me cum again. And when he wrapped his arm around my throat again, tightening quickly and entirely, it was over. This time, as he forced me to a third orgasm, I was actually sobbing, tears running down my face from the fucked up amount of pain and pleasure entwined in being so overstimulated in such a short period of time—especially after so long away from him.

“There’s my good fucking girl,” Rafe said, voice slightly hoarse as he slowed his thrusts to a stop.

He still hadn’t cum himself, his dick fully pulsing inside of me with how hard he was. I dreaded what that meant, even though I also fully anticipated what I knew would come. He gently undid the belt from around my wrists, releasing me, and then eased himself out of me. He flipped me around on the couch and I looked at him with big watery eyes.

“Please no more,” I said, tears slipping down my cheeks. “It’s too much, please.”

“Come on, darlin’,” he cooed, pressing kisses to my cheeks. “Come on, sweet girl. You can give me one more. Been missing my pussy so much. You know I need one more from her.” Another series of kisses, the last one a long and lingering, filthy one to my lips where his tongue entwined with mine and we both pulled back needing air. “Please, baby. One more for me.”

His hand moved down, gently tracing my clit, making me jolt. Already I was so sensitive, so overstimulated. But, the impossibly sweet and imploring look on his face? The hunger he had for me? It was impossible to deny.

“Okay, daddy,” I agreed, sniffling.

He leaned his forehead against mine, grinning. “That’s my girl,” he said softly.

He hitched my leg up over his hip, settling between my legs on the couch. He used his free hand to grip his cock, looking down at us. He gently slapped the head of his dick against my clit once, twice, a third time until I whined and he chuckled, reaching over to press a short kiss to my lips to shut me up. He ran himself up and down my slit over and over until I was shivering and he saw a tiny dribble of new arousal dripping from me. He let out a low moan of his own and then sank into me in one, hitching my leg up again so he could thrust as deep as humanly possible.

“There you are, gorgeous. There’s my beautiful fucking girl,” Rafe praised, pressing a kiss to each cheek, to my lips, and to my forehead as he steadily thrust into me. “So fucking perfect for me. So fucking good for me, baby.”

“You feel so good, daddy,” I said, eyes rolling back and then curling as he pressed down on the slight bulge in my stomach only present because of him. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Anything for you, baby. Fucking anything,” he grunted. He ground slower against me instead of thrusting for a few moments. “You don’t get to keep me from my pussy anymore, baby. I gotta fucking be with you.”

“Wanna be with you, daddy,” I babbled in agreement.

“Good fucking girl,” he huffed, pressing down on the bulge again making me whimper. I felt his dick pulsate again and I tightened around him habitually making his breath hitch. “You gonna cum for me one more time, baby? I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah, daddy, I’m gonna cum,” I whined. “Please can I cum? Please, please, please?” I begged.

“Fu-fuck yeah,” Rafe stuttered. “Cum with me baby.”

And this time, as I fell across pleasure’s razor edge once more, Rafe fell with me. I felt as he came inside me, hot and deep. My eyes rolled at the feeling, almost addicted to the mere feeling of him being so close and intensely part of me at that moment. I held him without realizing it, nails digging into the skin of his back as I held him against me, ignoring the fact that I was trembling like a leaf.

“So proud of you, my sweet girl. So good for me, gorgeous. Love you so much. So good for me.” Those were the first things I was coherent of hearing again when the whooshing in my ears had faded. They were the sweet praise that Rafe was offering. He went to move—to pull out—but I held him to me still, almost wrapping myself around him like a koala to stop it.

“No,” I denied. “Don’t move yet.”

“Okay, baby,” he agreed. “I won’t pull out. Do you want me to hold you?” I nodded. He carefully moved us. I winced as he adjusted us so that I was sitting up and in his lap because it made him deeper for a moment still but as we settled that faded and I just melted into his chest. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You did so good.” He stroked my skin and hair for a moment. “I gotta get you cleaned up, sweet girl. Get you some water.”

“Not yet,” I denied again, eyes closed as I leaned against him, as much of my skin touching him as possible. “Take care of me in a minute.”

He chuckled. “Oh? You’re gonna let me take care of you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I answered absent-mindedly. “Fine. You can take care of me, Rafe. I’ll stop being stubborn.” I needed his help. He’d been right about that when he showed up, I was adult enough to admit that. And I knew that he loved me. That he meant it from the best place.

“Really?” he asked, disbelieving. “You’re gonna move in with me? Let me take care of you? Just like that? All I had to do was fuck you like that?”

“Yeah. That’s all you had to do,” I agreed, far too exhausted to explain the complex detail of it in truth. I let out a breathless laugh though, a thought occurring to me when I felt a cool bite of metal and plastic on my leg. “Well, as long as you don’t get arrested for busting out of house arrest.” I cracked open my eyes to give him a smile.

“Shut up, I'll be fine,” he muttered. His hands held me closely, tightly, possessively to him. “You don’t get to take it back. I get to take care of you now. To make sure you’re safe. You’re gonna live with me, sweet girl.”

“Okay, Rafe,” I agreed softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek gently. He leaned into the touch and I smiled. “I will.” I leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, laying my forehead against his.

“I love you, baby,” he murmured, so quiet I could barely hear it.

“I love you too,” I replied, just as quiet, just as simple.

He smiled at that, the sight making his eyes go warm and sweet. “Alright, then, gorgeous. Let’s get you cleaned up and get the fuck out of here,” he said. His smile morphed into a cheesy sort of grin—the kind I rarely got to see. “Let’s go home.”

For once, I couldn’t disagree. And I couldn’t help but echo the cheesy smile. “Okay, then, Romeo,” I teased. “Let’s go home.”

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voxsmistress · 7 months ago

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Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part 12

Well my gorgeous little lemon-chops we are finally getting there! My brain was absolutely scrambled trying to think how to write this chapter! I hope you like it? please lemme know <3

Our little Y/n is about to make a deal that will change her entire undead life!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen

Stepping outside the hotel you spy a black car pull up. Hurrying down the steps you are surprised when a sinner gets out the driver’s seat and opens the back door for you with a small bow in your direction. Okay. That’s new. Thanking them you slide in and relax in the lush leather seating. Perhaps having them a little bit wrapped round your finger is a good thing?

Being directed to Vox’s office you admire all the decoration on the way, distracting yourself from the fact you were going to have a meeting with two very powerful Overlords who may – or may not – try and hook you into another deal. Knocking on the oak door you let yourself in when you hear his voice. Okay Y/n you’ve gotta stick to your guns! No offering anything unless you get a better offer. And do NOT get distracted by their flirting! You got this!

Peeking your head round the door you smile at Vox who was sat behind his desk, looking up when you entered, a lazy smile spreads across his face. “Ah my lovely little songbird, finally you made it” he motions to the seat opposite him. You close the door behind you. As you walk over to the chair trying your best not to roll your eyes you huff.

“Vox it was barely half an hour since you texted me to meet you, you’re lucky I didn’t have any better plans” teasing him as you take your seat, he chuckles.

“Better plans than seeing me?” Biting your bottom lip, you let your gaze flicker down his usual suit, admiring how even sat down he commanded power. Catching his darkening expression, you smirk at him.

“Perhaps”.

“Princessa, you wouldn’t be teasing our Voxxie now, would you?” Your undead heart nearly leapt out of your chest, twisting quickly you give an amused Valentino the stink eye. Not funny.

“Bloody Hell Val, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” Having them both snigger at you made the scowl on your face deepen. Where was Velvette when you needed her? She kept them both in line. Most of the time.

“My apologies Y/n, I didn’t mean to scare you so…” one of his hands tilted your chin up so you were looking at him, he himself was leaning down so your faces weren’t so far from each other. The sweet smell of the cigarette smoke that clung to him tickled your nose. “Forgive me?”

Hmm. Flirt. “I suppose so”, laughing when he taps your nose with a smile of his own. Standing back up he walks around the table to perch on the end next to Vox, purposefully shoving documents out of the way annoying the other Demon. Now, having two powerful Demon’s staring at you was just a bit nerve-wracking. Having two powerful Demons staring at you when you know they want something from you was just … a bit scary.

As no one was breaking the silence you decided to: “any who, how did you know where I was?”

“Darling, I always know where you are”, Vox rests his head on his linked hands, studying you. Those clever eyes taking in every detail. If you had less control of yourself, you’d fidget and blush under that gaze. Instead, you squirmed internally while externally smiling.

“Uh huh … you’ve been tracking my phone to show you where my location is, right?” It had been the main question you’d been asking yourself the entire car journey over. Of course he had tagged your phone. Those cameras of his only show so much of Pentagram City and from what Alastor told you, there weren’t any (or any that he knew about) in the Hazbin Hotel. At his lack of answer, you smirk at them. “You do know there is an easier way to find out where I am?”

“How is that?” They ask, Valentino sparking up another cigarette filling the room with that sweet, red smoke. Holding your finger up in a wait motion, you reach into your jacket pocket and pull out your phone. Typing in a number, you hold it up to your ear while crossing your legs as you stare at them both. After a moment a shrill ringing started from the top of the table, Vox looked at it confused for a moment before answering it. “Hello?”

“Hey handsome, so just in case you’re wondering where I am. I am currently sat in your office with two very hot Overlords discussing how they can just ring my mobile and find me like a normal person instead of tracking me like a piece of game. Okay gorgeous – gotta go important things to discuss. Mwah. Kisses”, you tease before hanging up the phone and slipping it back into your pocket. An amused snort distracted you from your stare down with Vox. Valentino was quietly laughing to himself as Vox shoved the phone back on the table with a scowl.

“Oh Vox, our Princessa certainly has a funny bone”, he joked while pinching the bottom of Vox’s screen affectionately. If that had been anyone else, they’d have lost their hand. Sometimes when the Vee’s showed you these different sides to them you could almost believe the sweet gestures that they would give to you – but then you remember who they are and that thought disappears. A little bit. Sometimes.

Vox shook Valentino’s hand off his screen, rolling his eyes he huffed a little. You and Val share an amused look. For a powerful Overlord, he really did pout like a baby. Actually, come to think about it, they all did. What does that make you? The babysitter?

“So … boys, you demanded my presence about an offer you had for me? I’m here and all ears. What is it that you would like to talk about?”

“Yes. Me and Valentino have discussed about offering you a deal to sing at Valentino’s clubs. After seeing the …uh … opposition the other night well - someone who is associated with us needs to be working in the more upper-class joints than you are now.” Surprised by their offer you tilt your head in confusion, this is not what you were expecting.

“You want me to work at Val’s clubs?” You confirm with them.

“Yes.”

“As well as the other clubs I’m currently working for?”

“No”. Vox flicked through his phone. Blinking in shock you look up at the smoking Valentino, a wink was the only answer you got off him.

“Instead of?”

“Yes Songbird. We are willing to offer you more money than the rest of the clubs are offering you combined. Of course, you will get certain benefits and you are welcome to an apartment here in the Tower for security reasons and ease of getting to work, etc”. Ah there it is. The ol’ ball and chain.

“And what are you wanting in return for this rather generous offer?” You lean your elbows on your knees as you focus on the two Overlords.

“Your happiness…?” BUZZZZ Please try again. How stupid do they think you are?

“Uh huh. Wanna give that another go big boy?” Narrowing your eyes at them, you receive amused looks in return.

“Okay. We get your exclusivity to just us. It’s a brand deal; demons and sinners that work for us only work for us,” Val explains through a haze of smoke.

“A brand deal? I hope you aren’t planning on branding my ass with that” you jokingly ask - semi-serious.

“Don’t be so silly, we wouldn’t brand you”, Vox rolls his eyes as Val chuckles.

“Course if you wanted that Princessa, I’m sure we can come to some arrangement”, shaking your head at Valentino you focus back on Vox.

“But it you work for me, Val and Velvette – it’s a complete deal. You help showcase and sell the clothing line and Socials with Velvette, you work in the clubs for Val, and I need a little bit of you here and there for the VoxTek products to promote them. In return you get publicity, a place to live, more money than you’ll know what to do with and power”. Was this sounding a little bit too good to be true to anyone else?

Biting your lip nervously, you lean back in your chair as you eyeball them both: “All in return for?”

Sighing, Vox gets up from his chair and makes his way in front of you. He leans against the table and looks down at you, Valentino was smirking over his shoulder.

“You.” He wafts his hand at you.

Me? What on Hell? You uncross your arms and glare at him while stating: “Me? Thought we went through this; you aren’t having my soul”. Standing from your chair you go to walk away, this was a complete waste of time if that’s all they were after. Sharp fingers gripped your wrist yanking you back the few steps you had made towards the door. With one hand on your wrist, Vox’s other grips your chin gently and lifted it up so you were looking him dead in the eyes. Two other hands grip your waist, the sweet smell of smoke wafted around you as Valentino loomed over your back.

Tutting, Vox smirked, “It’s not your soul we are after sweetheart. We want you”. Confused you try to shake his grip off but he tightened it.

“Me for what?” What on earth could you give them that they didn’t already have?

“To be ours”. Well that stopped you in your tracks.

Possession. Is that what they wanted? “This is new…? Is this like you want me like a new shiny toy that has just come out at the store sorta thing? What when you grow bored of me? I’m just to be tossed aside like the rest of your toys” you bare your fangs in annoyance at them.

“No, we cannot see that happening Princessa, you have three of us to share – trust us, we and you will not be bored. And new? Hardly. We’ve been interested in your ever since we saw you sing one night. You didn’t see us at that club, but we sure saw you, mi amore. Since then we’ve been watching you, waiting and wanting”, breath caught in your throat as Valentino’s fingers stroked up and down your waist. Vox’s caressed your cheek with his thumb while keeping your eyes on his. What was happening?

“So? My little Songbird, what do you say?” He rumbles out, eyes lidded as his gaze flits between your eyes and lips. This has gotta be a dream? Right?

“Can I have a moment to think about this please?” you ask. After they both agree you remove yourself from their arms. Pacing the room, you begin to think through everything without their influence. Contract terms were coming to an end, but not all of them. You needed to complete those deals on your end, or you would end up with less power than you began with. You would not be saddled with a leash because of the Vee’s, you had a way to gain power and you would use it.

Turning to them both, you take a deep breath. Here you go.

“I agree to certain terms. However, I have my own stipulations. I finish out my old contracts while starting the new ones with you. I have deals of my own that I need to complete before starting new ones, you understand that? Also, I can work at other clubs, however they will be vetted by all of us before I take the job. I have a name that I have built up, I do not want to see it go to ruin. With the apartment – I can come and go when and as I please. More so than anything, I am my own person and will always be my own person.” You hold a hand up as they both go to crowd you again. You had to finish this before they managed to influence you again by their presence. Because as much as you could lie to yourself and to others, you were attracted to the Vee’s. If this was a chance to run with a bit of happiness and danger (because undead life was so boring without it) then you were going to sprint with it to the finish line.

“If I am to be yours – then you are just as much mine, and I don’t sleep around. I expect the same. I understand you three have an agreement and I’m happy to be included in that – but that is it”. Lowering your hand, you stand ready to hear what they have to say. The cowardly part of you doesn’t want to look at their faces. But the stubborn bitch in you wanted to make sure they knew you meant every single word you said.

The gigantic smirks on both their faces made your cheeks redden, even more so when they both moved forwards so quickly that you were surrounded by them again. Hand under your chin once more, you raise your eyebrows at the smug Vox as he leans down so that you could feel his breath on your cheeks. Valentino was bending down from behind you, his hands wrapped around your waist pulling you close to his chest as his breath tickled your hair around your ear.

“Deal”, they both whispered. Well fuck!

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hungermakesmonsters · 4 months ago

Text

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Eighteen

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Violence. A lot more violence than usual. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 4.3k

A/N : if you haven't already voted for what you want to see me write next, you've got a day and a half left

MASTER LIST

Chapter Eighteen

It felt like the world was unravelling around him, like he was coming apart at the seams. While he’d said the words hours ago, it wasn’t until that moment that he started to feel the weight of them. He loved you. He loved you in a way that he’d never allowed himself to love anyone else. He loved you in a way that was so deep, so visceral that if he lost you, he knew he’d never recovered.

You were inexorably linked, two halves of one soul. You were everything to him and Billy knew he couldn’t go back to the empty, bleak life he’d been living, no matter how many times he’d tried to convince himself overwise over the last couple of months.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, running a red light to get to Krista’s building. Frank and Madani were talking but, to Billy, it all just sounded like static in his ears.

He couldn’t lose you.

He wouldn’t.

Pulling up, he killed the engine and before anyone could think to speak or question, he was out of the car, clearing the steps to the building two at a time. Frank and Madani had to rush to keep up with him, each still talking, calling after him. But Billy didn’t care about waiting, about figuring out ‘what to do’. No, Billy knew what he was going to do; he was going to make Krista talk, he was going to make her understand why fucking with you had been the worst decision of her life

It was a blur and, for a few minutes he lost himself; he kicked the door open and the next thing he knew, he had his hands around her throat, with Frank yelling at him to calm down.

“Where is she?” The voice that left his lips wasn’t quite his own.

“Gone. I don’t know where,” Krista answered, grinning despite the grip he had on her. “You’ll never find her. Just like you never found Mary.”

Somehow Frank managed to wrench Billy away but Krista didn’t even try to escape. She was enjoying the scene playing out before her, she was taking pleasure in his pain, glad that she’d had some small part in causing it.

“Mary?” It was Madani who spoke, gun drawn, stepping forwards. “Mary Poots?”

“Poor little Mary,” Krista said in a sing-song tone, barely holding back a laugh. “You thought you could replace me with someone so... fragile...”

“You killed Mary Poots?” Madani tried to continue her line of questioning despite the fact that Krista’s attention was fully on Billy.

“Now you’re going to lose the new one,” Krista carried on, all eyes on her. “I’ll take the next one, too. And the one after that. All of them. Every last one, until I’m all you have left.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Billy spat and that drew a laugh from Krista.

“If I am, it’s because of you, because you infected me...” she laughed again. “Or, no, I suppose it was Layla... not that it matters. You fuck up everything you touch, don’t you, Billy?”

“Just tell me where she is!” Billy demanded.

He lunged towards her, but Frank was too quick, too strong, wrapping an arm around him and holding Billy back.

“I don’t know,” she answered, still smiling, seemingly unbothered. “I never asked and he never told. You shouldn’t worry, I’m sure she’ll make a beautiful bride. Her fiance was so happy to finally have her back.”

Billy snapped and snarled, struggling against Frank and against himself, his last shred of control quickly starting to split and fray. He wanted to kill her, wanted to do what he knew he should have done months ago.

“She’s not worth it, Bill,” Frank told him, trying to pull him away.

“You’ve just confessed to murder in front of a Federal Agent,” Madani finally piped up, earning a laugh from Krista, before her attention shifted to Frank and Billy. “If Justin Drake has her and they’re still in the city, we’ll be able to track her down.”

“And what if she’s not still in the city?” Billy snapped. “There’s only a few hours until dawn...”

“We’re going to find her,” Madani answered, her tone sharpening to match his.

“And what about her?” Frank dared to ask, drawing all eyes back to Krista.

“I can send someone to pick her up.”

Krista finally moved, attempting to bolt for the door but, somehow, Billy managed to wrench free of Frank’s grip and lunged for her, knocking into her so hard that they both fell to the ground.

She ripped and tore at him with her nails, sinking her fangs into his shoulder and not letting go until his elbow connected with her face. They rolled, Billy ending up on top before she caught him across the face, clawing at him. She rolled him, straddling him as she landed another hit across his face while Billy’s hands gripped her throat.

By the time Frank pulled her away, they were both bloody and bruised, each bearing the marks of each other’s hatred. She kicked and screamed against Frank’s grip as he pushed her face first into the wall, pinning her there while Madani cuffed her to a radiator.

“You think that’s gonna hold her?” Frank asked, eying Krista as she dropped to the ground.

“It’s all we can do for now,” Madani answered. “We need to move.”

“She needs to die,” Billy snarled.

It felt like his body was vibrating with rage, like the thing inside of him had finally won. But, before he could move, Frank was on him, forcing him backwards, hands shoving him so hard that he knocked the breath from Billy’s lungs.

“You wanna waste time on her while your girl’s out there? You wanna throw her life away and yours just so you can settle a score with this crazy bitch?” He barked in Billy’s face, shoving him again. Billy didn’t have an answer. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now fucking move, this guy isn’t gonna find himself.”

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

It felt like the world had tilted on its axis and gripping the edge of the table was all you could do to keep yourself from falling. It had never made sense why he wanted you, why he’d been so adamant; you weren’t anything special, you weren’t worth anything (certainly not when compared to the amount of money your parents owed him). But, now you finally had answers, it made even less sense.

He was doing this because you looked like a distant relative who you shared only a fraction of your DNA with.

He was doing this because she had denied him, just like you were trying to deny him.

He wanted you to be a vampire, to spend an eternity at his side.

“No.” The word fell from your mouth with a certainty that you didn’t feel.

“You don’t have a choice,” he retorted, already sounding like he was done with your denials and insolence.

“Yes, I do,” you answered back, remembering all the times Billy had told you as much.

You hadn’t believed it at the time, you’d thought that it was just a line, something he was telling you to make you feel better but, now, faced with someone who wanted to remove your choice, your agency, you realised that Billy had been right all along. Lifting your head and sitting a little straighter, you silently promised yourself that you weren’t going to cower before him, you weren’t going to let this sorry excuse for a man decide your future.

“You can do what you want to me. I’ll never be yours,” you told him. “Even if it takes my whole life, I’ll do everything I can to escape you.”

“I don’t know what you think you can -”

“I’m not afraid of you anymore,” you interrupted, not letting him get the upper hand, not letting him treat you like the naive child you had been when you last sat across from him. “You will never get what you want from me.”

Anger flickered across his face and it took him more than a few seconds to tamp it down again. Obviously he hadn’t been expecting such resistance from you.

But then came the laugh, a sound that caused dread to coil in your stomach.

“Like I told you; I’m a patient man and I have an eternity to bend you to my will,” he sai, his voice softer than his expression. “There might be nothing I can do to you anymore, but I already told you that your sister, her children...”

“You won’t hurt them.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because you’ll lose your leverage over me if you do,” you answered, trying to hide the discomfort in your voice, hating that you were gambling with your sister’s safety. “And if you think I’m being difficult now, you’ve got no idea how much worse I can be.”

Drake let out another callous huff of laughter, a twisted smile pulling at his lips.

“You’re right, but there are other ways to hurt you, aren’t there? Other people close to your heart...” he trailed off for a moment, letting his words sink in. “What about William Russo or his little human friend? Karen is it?”

As much as you wanted to remain defiant, the thought of anything happening to Billy made you feel sick to your stomach. You couldn’t let anything happen to him. You wouldn’t.

Before you realised you were doing it, your hand was gripping the knife in front of you.

It took him by surprise when you lunged across the table, aiming the blunt knife towards his chest despite knowing that it wouldn’t be enough to kill him. You didn’t care. The outcome of this didn’t matter; either he would die or you would. Either way, Billy would be safe.

Plates and glasses smashed as you half-fell over the table, tipping his chair back and knocking him to the floor, you on top of him.

His fingers gripped your wrist, stopping you as you tried to bring the knife down, holding the tip only a few inches from his chest.

There was noise all around you and it wasn’t until some time later that you realised it was you, that you were screaming, telling him you were going to kill him, that you wouldn’t stop until he was dead.

The struggle felt like it lasted a lifetime when, in reality, a few seconds after you’d cleared the table, one of his goons had arrived and pulled you off him. Kicking and screaming, you were carried back to your room and thrown inside.

You landed with an awkward thud, pain radiating up your bad arm despite the cast. But, seconds later, you were back on your feet, banging against the door, trying to get out, only to find that you were locked in. But that didn’t stop you from continuing to kick and scream at the door, telling him that you were going to kill him, that the only way he’d stop you was by killing you.

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

After they’d left Josie’s, Frank had text Karen to let her know what was going on and where they were headed. She decided to stick around and keep asking questions around the bar, making sure that nothing had been missed but, after half an hour or so, she decided to call it a night and head home.

She left with your suitcase, having stuffed Bill the Beagle back inside, rolling it along the sidewalk behind her. Her apartment was only a couple of blocks away and, despite the late hour, she’d never felt particularly unsafe walking home from Josie’s.

“Hey, uh, excuse me Miss?” A voice rang out.

Not thinking, Karen stopped and turned, seeing a large man dressed in a dark suit heading towards her.

“Can I help you with something?” She asked, finally noticing the limo parked in front of Josie’s.

It couldn’t be a coincidence; Josie’s wasn’t the sort of place anyone would want to leave a limousine, especially not twice in one night. Karen took a step back, realisation causing her blood to turn ice cold in her veins.

“Yeah, I think that suitcase belongs to a friend of mine,” he answered, slowly stepping towards her.

The moment he started to move, Karen reached into her purse, trying to find her gun but not taking her eyes off of him for even a second.

“Funny,” she answered, “because this case happens to belong to a friend of mine.”

Gun in hand, she lifted it, pointing it straight at him, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. She couldn’t be sure if he was a vampire or not, but she wasn’t going to take any chances, and aimed the gun at his chest. It might not kill him, but it would definitely slow him down.

“Where is she?” Karen demanded.

“It’s none of your concern,” he answered back, daring to take the slightest step but hesitating again when Karen lifted the gun a little higher, aiming for his heart.

“I said, where is she?” She repeated, taking a step of her own.

“She’s with her fiance and if I were you, I’d just hand over the case.”

Karen opened her mouth about to refuse again when he moved, clearing the distance between them with a supernatural speed, knocking the gun from her grasp and into the road. As she moved to grab the suitcase, he struck her with the back of his hand, knocking her off balance and sending her to the pavement.

Karen scrambled for the gun but, by the time she had it, he was almost back at the limo, throwing the case into the passenger side before moving around to the driver's door.

As he started up the engine, Karen noticed a taxi and quickly tried to flag it down. When it didn’t stop, she stepped out into the street in front of it, making it stop for her.

“Follow that limo,” she told the driver as she climbed into the back.

“Listen, lady, I -” the driver started to refuse.

“No, you listen, the piece of shit that owns that limo has kidnapped a friend of mine and I have a gun, so you can either follow that limo and get paid at the end of this, or I’m going to have to take your taxi.”

The threat hung in the air for a few seconds. She could see the driver wearily eyeing her in the rearview, no doubt taking note of the gun in her lap and her split lip.

“Alright, fine, just don’t go doin’ anything crazy,” he muttered before starting after the limo.

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

They were barely outside of Krista’s building when Frank got the call. Billy watched as his friend's expression dropped from one of calm control to absolute rage in less than five seconds. He’d been busy listening to Madani, to all the measures she was putting in place to try and track you down; tracking the limo, credit cards, checking hotel guest lists. It only vaguely occurred to him that it wasn’t until then that he heard your so-called fiance’s name for the first time tonight.

Justin Drake.

Not that it mattered what his name was; he’d be a dead man the moment Billy got his hands on him.

But, for a few seconds, all of that stopped mattering and his attention was fixed on Frank.

“Are you okay?” he demanded of the person on the other end of the call. “Did he hurt you?” There was a pause for an answer that Billy couldn’t quite make out over the sound of traffic. “Where are you? No - no, stay outside and wait for us. We’ll be there in five minutes.”

“What’s going on?” Billy asked the moment Frank ended the call.

“He sent one of his goons after the suitcase. Karen followed him back to the Park View hotel, she thinks that’s where he’s got her.” Frank explained.

A second later Madani was relaying that information on her call, but Billy was already moving for the car, and Frank was quick to follow.

“Wait, I can get back up and -” Madani started, falling into step behind the men.

“We ain’t waiting,” Frank answered.This time it was his turn to be angry. They’d gone near Karen and, now, it was personal for him.

The conversation continued as they got in the car and carried on until they arrived at the hotel; Madani wanted to wait for back-up. Billy and Frank didn’t. It was that simple. They weren’t going to wait.

“You can help us, or you can stay here,” Frank told her, though his attention was immediately focused on Karen the moment he saw her, his blood starting to boil at the sight of her split lip. “We’re killin’ this fucker.”

“Yeah we are,” Billy responded.

Frank gave Karen some quick instructions, telling her to go wait in the car and to stay out of the way. He tried to tell Madani to wait with her but the Homeland Agent refused, trying one last time to convince them to just wait a few more minutes for back-up to arrive. Before she could even finish, Billy was moving past her and heading for the hotel’s entrance.

He moved through the lobby, drawing stares from everyone that looked his way; blood from the wounds that Krista had inflicted was still fresh on his clothes and he looked as if he’d just torn someone apart with his bare hands.

By the time he reached the front desk, there were already two members of the hotel security team standing there.

“I’m Agent Madani with Homeland Security,” she spoke before anyone else had the chance, and before Billy had the opportunity to do anything stupid. “You have a Justin Drake staying here, I need access to his rooms, now.”

“I can’t just -” the receptionist started to answer.

“He has a woman with him up there, doesn’t he?” Madani asked, stepping up to the desk. “A woman that turned up earlier tonight?”

Billy took a step forward, getting ready to take matters into his own hands.

“I can’t reveal -” the receptionist tried again.

“He kidnapped her,” Billy snapped, “and he’s planning on hurting her. So you can either let us in peacefully, or we can make you.”

The security guards moved closer but then, at the sight of Frank stepping forwards, they seemed to shy away.

“We can wait for a warrant, or you can let us in now. Either way, if anything happens, it’ll be on you,” Madani explained. “Call Homeland - hell, call the cops, the FBI, whoever you want. Have us arrested when we’re done. But if anything happens, her blood will be on your hands.”

“And we’ve got Karen Page from The Bulletin sittin’ outside waitin’ for her friend to come out, so I suggest if you don’t wanna be named as complicit in this...” Frank let the threat go unfinished.

The receptionist had turned snow white, her hands trembling as she handed over a keycard and directed them to the elevator. The two hotel security members followed after.

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

You heard the commotion before everything went to hell.

There was a phone call; from what you could gather they had a friend in the FBI who’d gotten wind of a Homeland investigation, and there was about to be a raid on the hotel. They needed to get out of there, as quickly as they could.

“Come on,” he demanded, holding out his hand to you.

“No.”

“I’ve had enough of your games,” he muttered, his voice changing, turning softer. “Now, come with me.”

When he held out his hand again, you took a step towards him, wanting to do exactly as he said.

“N-no,” you said, shaking your head, trying to block him out, trying not to let him sway you.

“Come on, come with me. Right now,” he tried again.

Again you took a step, then another. Something inside of you told you to stop, to fight him, but you couldn’t. All you wanted to do was go with him.

“That’s it, come along and -”

“Boss, they’re in the elevator!”

The sudden disruption was enough to snap you out of it. You stepped back, reestablishing the space between you. You weren’t going to make this easy for him.

“Told you I’d never be yours,” you muttered defiantly, triumphantly.

You both knew that there was no way that Drake was going to get out of this, at least not with you at his side. He’d have to let you go if he wanted to escape.

But you realised all too late what letting go looked like to Justin Drake.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” He asked, starting towards you. “I would have given you everything if only you’d chosen not to act like a tempermental whore. But it’s really no bother. I’m sure when your niece is old enough she’ll be far more amenable, far more grateful for what I have to offer.”

You stepped back as he closed the distance, until you found yourself against the window.

“At least I get to have one last taste,” he muttered darkly.

“No!”

Your arms shot out, trying to push him away, trying to keep him from biting you. But he was bigger than you and infinitely stronger. He pushed you back, held you in place despite your thrashing and screaming. You tried everything you could to stop him from pressing closer and closer, trying to turn away as he bowed his head towards your neck.

“Not so defiant now, are you?”

“Please, no - no!” You screamed and begged, tears streaming down your face.

He bit down. Hard.

Fangs tore through flesh, but rather than lingering to feed, he pulled back, his lips and chin dripping dark with your blood.

It took a moment for you to realise that blood was slowly filling your throat, that he’d left you with more than just a puncture wound.

Your hand lifted as he pulled back and started to walk away, feeling the wound he’d left and the way blood was spurting from it. Lightheadedness quickly over took and you found yourself sliding down the glass and onto the floor. Desperately you reached for the hoodie you’d discarded on the floor when you’d changed for dinner, pressing it against the wound, hoping you’d survive long enough to see Billy one last time.

You weren’t sure what was happening, but you heard gunshots and shouting. Then someone was at your side, her hand holding the hoodie tighter against your wounds and shouting for Billy.

Madani.

(What was Madani doing there?)

“Hold on, help’s on the way,” she told you, but the words barely registered.

You had so many questions but it seemed too late to try and ask them.

But finally - finally - Billy was at your side. Dropping to his knees, his eyes filling with tears at the sight of you.

“B-Billy,” you managed to choke out despite the blood filling your mouth and lungs, “you’re h-here...”

You felt him squeezing your hand, holding you so tight, like he never wanted to let you go. There were tears in his eyes as he looked down at you and you knew exactly what they meant; you were dying. In your efforts to save him the pain of watching you die, you’d brought it about decades early.

“I told you,” he muttered softly, “I’ll never let you go.”

Madani continued to press the cloth against your wound but you could tell from Billy’s face that it wasn’t helping.

“S-sorry,” you tried to mutter, wishing that you had more time, wishing that you could apologise properly.

“Don’t,” he told you, “don’t try to talk. Just - just stay still, stay with me, it’s going to be alright.”

“I l-love -” you couldn’t finish, there was too much blood and you were starting to feel so cold, so tired.

“Hey - hey, hummingbird, keep your eyes on me. It’s going to be okay,” Billy told you, but his voice sounded so far away.

You struggled to hold his gaze, some part of you glad that you’d gotten to see him one last time, but the rest of you hated the agony on his face and the tears streaking down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he told you, squeezing your hand tighter, like he was trying to hold you in this life and not let you slip away. “I love you and - and I’m sorry, I know you’ll hate me but...”

The rest faded into the sound of your own panic, some part of you knowing what he was trying to tell you, knowing what he wanted to do. You tried to shake your head, tried to pull at his hand but you were so weak you could barely move.

You were so far gone that you didn’t hear him screaming and pleading with Frank, nor did you hear Frank’s initial refusal and Billy’s threat to do it himself.

Your eyes went wide when Frank loomed over you, looking at you for a moment, an unspoken apology colouring his features. You tried to speak, trying to say something - though, confronted with your own death, even you weren’t sure what you wanted anymore. But you felt Billy’s hand squeezing yours and some piece of you wanted to hold on, wanted to have his hand in yours for longer than this moment, longer than the six months that you’d had together.

You wanted him.

You wanted the man you loved.

(It wasn’t fair. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t want to leave him.)

But it was too late. Your eyes fell shut and you let out a gurgled breath, and the last thing you heard was Billy’s shouts.

End Note : So, yeah... I have a lot of feelings about this chapter. I know it jumps around and I'm not the greatest at action sequences (I'm working on it). And I know people won't like the ending and so on, but I'm having fun. I'm not sure if next week will be the last part now or if I'll have an epilogue the week after to tie up loose ends. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this and it wasn't a let down! Also I'm sorry if any typos slipped through, I lost a night of writing to go see Deadpool last night..

As ever, thank you so much for your support/reading/liking/reblogging/screaming at me in the comments! Have a great weekend!!

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@countryday @weepingwitchofthewest @broadwaybabe18 @bunnygirlwriter876 @oliviaewl

@rosey1981 @benbarnesprettygurl @rachlovesactors @robertthehoover @ladyblacky

@goldenbeskar @mydarlingnana @strwbrrynd @cheshirecat484 @jvanilly

@ashy-kit @jazzclubprincess @arwensloanebarnes

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #(ob)ts ff #billy russo imagine

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 3 months ago

Text

Faithfully

Fandom: Harry Potter [Marauders Era]

Pairing: James Potter x Female Reader

Characters: James Potter, Female Reader, Harry Potter, Sirius Black

Word Count: 2250

Rating: Teen

Summary: And lovin' a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be.

Tags/ Warnings: Hogwarts, Summer Challenge, Writing Challenge, Song Fic, Band AU, Can be lily if you want, Kissing, Tour, Band Life, Baby Harry potter,

Notes: This is my summer writing challenge 2024. Seven fics over seven days - all will be hp based and song fics.

Summer Challenge 2024 // Song Inspo

‘Do you know when you’ll be home?’ you asked quietly, careful not to wake the baby sleeping soundly on your chest.

‘Dunno,’ James said with a sigh, ‘a day or two? I’m sure we’ve got a gap before our Paris show. Could probably squeeze in a visit.’

‘You don’t have to if it’ll be too much hassle,’ you said, trying to keep your tone light and unbothered. You didn’t want him to have to rush only for him to be home for less than twelve hours but you were missing him.

‘Seeing you two is never too much hassle,’ he said, the smile present in his voice though as you listened down the line you heard the noise of someone coming into the room, a muffled voice, which sounded like Sirius, asking if he was ready or not. You heard him ask for a minute before he put his attention back on you and said, ‘love I have to go.’

‘I know I heard,’ you said, a sigh escaping you before you could stop it.

‘I’ll call after the show I promise,’ he vowed.

‘I know you will,’ you said, ‘you better go. Love you.’

‘Love you more,’ he replied before he hung up leaving you with nothing more than a dial tone. As you placed the receiver down you heard a whimper and looked down to find you baby boy, Harry, looking disgruntled from being jostled about. He’d not opened his eyes though and after a moment of watching him you realised he hadn't woken and so as quietly as you could you climbed out of the chair so you could carry him upstairs to bed.

You put him in his cot as gently as you could, hoping he’d not be able to tell the difference between your touch and the feel of the mattress. Fortunately he continued to sleep leaving you free to leave though you still stood there for a good five minutes so as not to tempt fate. It'd been a nightmare to get him off to sleep tonight though that had been the trend for the last few weeks as the more he missed James the worse his behaviour got. You didn’t blame him. You missed him too. But you knew it was for the best.

You’d been with James since school and you loved him just as much now as you did then. You’d moved in together, gotten married and even had a baby despite being so young. People had told you it was foolish, that you should wait a while, but you didn’t see the point. But now you were starting to wonder if they were right.

Because James was a musician, he and his three friends had formed a band called the marauders at school and had continued to try their hand at it after they’d left in lieu of what your dad would call a ‘proper job’. But they weren’t some kids playing at rockstars. They were good. Phenomenal showman and they'd been signed not long after leaving school. You’d been living the high life. The wife of a rockstar.

Until two little pink lines on a stick had knocked that all of kilter. You loved Harry, more than anything in the world, but he had definitely changed your life. Instead of shows and parties you were now at home with nappies and bottles. You saw James infrequently though he always called whenever he had a chance. It wasn’t even as though you missed staying out till three am or drinking to oblivion. You missed being there, watching your husband give the performance of a lifetime and basking in the high with him. You missed waking up in the same bed, wrapped around one another until you had to drag yourselves to the next venue or tour bus. You missed James being at home with you and Harry, watching how your baby grew into the fabulous little boy he was becoming. You’d only had a few solid months together after he was born before he’d had to leave and though you’d met him for a show here and there or he’d raced home to see you it wasn’t the same.

Quite simply you missed your husband.

You missed him so much that as you climbed into bed, exhausted and sad, you found tears running down your face as you pressed it into his pillow for comfort.

✵✵✵

‘What’s that? Is it a fishy?’ you cooed, moving the toy fish through the water as Harry splashed at it, ‘is it gonna get ya? It’s gonna get ya!’

You moved the fish until it was nestled in his neck making him wobble and giggle as it tickled along his skin.

‘It’s gotcha!’ you laughed as he fumbled to take it off you, his chubby fingers locking around it as he waved it towards your face, ‘is it gonna get mummy?’

You were face to face with him, pressing kisses on his plump cheeks as he clunked your face with the plastic fish, when you heard someone say, ‘well I’d say do you want me to take over but you look as though you’re having far too much fun for me to intervene.’

You whipped around immediately at the voice, finding James stood in the doorway, leaning against it looking bemused. Having not expected him home for another day or so you were stunned but not enough that you couldn’t hurl yourself up off the floor and into his arms which wrapped around you on instinct, the pair of you absorbing every inch of love you could from one another.

‘Hiya,’ he said as you pulled back, his hand on your cheek.

‘Hi,’ you beamed, ‘what you doing home?’

‘Oh charmin,’ he said, rolling his eyes which earned him a swat on the chest. James ignored it, moving to it on the edge of the bath to watch Harry who upon seeing him immediately decided he was done with bath time and offered his arms up to be picked up. You nodded as he looked to you for permission, not knowing where in the process you’d gotten up to, and then he grabbed a towel from the side of the bath and scooped Harry up into his arms.

‘Hiya mate,’ he said, pressing a kiss to his cheek which earned him a sloppy one of his own. You smiled just watching the pair of them, your heart swelling with pride and love which grew as he looked at you with a grin, ‘you two happy to see me then?’

‘Ecstatic, but it’s nearly bedtime,’ you said, sadness tinging your voice. As James stood up from the bath, Harry now on his hip you ran a hand through Harry’s wet hair. It was flat against his head, though you doubted that would last long once it was dry. Back to the unruly mess it was like James. James watched you, an encouraging smile on his face as he said, ‘well then let's get ready for bed.’

You nodded and headed out the bathroom. He followed you, babbling to Harry as you led them through to his nursery where you’d laid everything out. Despite being prepared for bedtime it was a struggle to get him dry and dressed as he refused to be more than three inches from James but eventually you got him bundled into his pyjamas and ready for a bedtime story.

Whilst James took a seat in the chair in Harry’s nursery you nipped downstairs to make up his evening bottle and as you boiled the kettle you tried to will yourself to be happy, to not look at the clock and think about how he’d be gone in however many hours and you two would be on your own again. And in that vein you rushed to get Harry’s bottle ready so that you could make the most of the time together though by the time you got back upstairs James was near the end of his bedtime story.

You perched on the arm of the chair, swapping his book for the bottle which Harry took to immediately, content on watching the pair of you whilst you watched him. James placed a hand on your thigh as you leant down to nestle into him, placing a kiss on the top of his head. Harry was content with staring at you both but the more he drank the heavier his eyes got until he was asleep, the bottle dropping from his grasp before James caught it. When he didn't disturb you realised it was probably safe to transfer him and so moved out of his way so that James could put him in his cot. To your surprise he went down well, so well you wondered if James would even believe you when you told him of the anarchy of bedtimes you’d been living with. But still you waited for a moment, watching him to ensure he was fully settled. James was watching him too, adoration plastered on his face.

‘Cmon,’ you said, pulling his attention away from the sleeping tot, ‘if we stare at him any longer he might wake up.’

‘Good point,’ he chuckled quietly following you back out to the bathroom. Whilst you drained the bath and sorted Harry’s toys out he washed the used bottle in the sink.

‘So how long have we got?’ you asked, draining water out of a plastic sea creature before tossing it into the small box for bath toys.

‘Before I have to leave for Paris?’ he asked, leaning against the sink as he watched you.

‘Yeah,’ you said, trying not to sound too disheartened.

‘Have to meet the boys at Dover for eleven,’ he said, checking his watch, ‘so about twelve hours.’

‘Great twelve hours and we’ll be sleeping for most of it,’ you said as you threw the last of the toys in the box and pulled the plug. You didn’t look at him, instead watching the swirling water so that he couldn’t see your face but he could sense your disappointment and moved to hug you from behind pulling you into his chest.

‘You sound disappointed,’ he said as he placed his chin on your shoulder, watching you in the mirror.

‘Not with you,’ you said, moving your hand to his cheek and stroking it gently, ‘I just miss you that’s all. We both do.’

‘I miss you both too,’ he said, turning you around to hold you close. He looked tired, the skin beneath his eyes tinged purple which didn’t surprise you. He’d probably gotten to bed well into the morning before a full day in the car to get home.

‘Well we’ve got twelve hours I suppose,’ you reasoned, ‘if you can stay awake that is. You look shattered.’

‘Actually that’s something I wanted to speak to you about,’ he said.

‘What?’ you asked, confused.

‘Well I was thinking we could spend the night packing for you to come with me tomorrow,’ he said simply.

‘What me and Harry come to Paris?’ you scoffed.

‘Paris, Brussels, Berlin, Cologne-’

‘Babe that’s your entire tour,’ you said, the piece of paper pinned to your fridge with the dates you’d committed to memory flashing to your mind.

‘Yeah,’ he shrugged.

‘You want me to come on tour with you?’ you asked in disbelief.

‘You’ve done it before,’ he shrugged.

‘And Harry?’ you reasoned.

‘Well I don’t think he’s old enough to stay home alone,’ he teased, earning a smack on the chest which made him laugh.

‘We can't come on tour with you!’ you chastised.

‘Why not?’ he asked.

‘He’s a baby!’ you reasoned, ‘he needs routine and home comforts and-‘

‘Two parents who aren’t miserable,’ James said, looking at you pointedly. You shifted under the weight of his gaze but he moved so that you were looking at him by taking a seat on the bath, pulling you in between his legs as his arms locked around you.

‘Babe I know what we said when Harry was born. I know we wanted a normal life for him but our life isn’t exactly normal. It’s never gonna be normal so long as we’re doing this thing,’ he reasoned, ‘and I’m not saying there's not going to have to be adjustments, we're not gonna be able to act like we did before but we’ll still be together. That’s what I want.’

‘Me too,’ you said, ‘but all the travelling and the shows-’

‘He’ll get used to it,’ he vowed, ‘I promise it’s better to have a life that’s a little chaotic but happy rather than one that’s normal and miserable.’

You deliberated that point for a moment. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Everyone you’d spoken to when pregnant had told you that the road would be no place for a family but maybe they were wrong. Because they'd been wrong about everything else.

They’d assumed you’d gotten married because you’d gotten knocked up, not that James had been walking around with a ring in his pocket for six months before he’d gotten up the courage to ask. They assumed that you came on tour to keep an eye on him, not because he’d managed to talk you round into attending so many dates it had become easier to just join them for the entire thing rather than think of another excuse to give to your old boss on why you’d not turned in for yet another shift. When people saw you in town, shopping or in the park with Harry they assumed you’d been left behind to raise him whilst James did whatever he wanted. They pictured him bedding fans or hookers instead of running back to his hotel to call you like he did every night, the two of you talking until one of you fell asleep. They assumed that you staying behind had been his choice and not yours.

But maybe James was right.

After all, what use was routine when it was different for half the year. Harry got used to having two parents and then was forced back to having one, his dad a stranger popping in every so often and leaving him more confused than ever. And it wasn’t just James he missed. He missed his uncles, James’ bandmates, all of whom adored him and showered him with love. He also missed you, the person you were around James.

The road wasn’t a place to raise a baby but who said? Maybe you could make it work, at least now whilst he was small.

‘You’re right,’ you agreed, moving to perch on his knee, ‘I am miserable. Harry too.’

‘And me,’ he said, ‘and the boys truth be told.’

‘Yeah?’ you giggled, ‘miss me that much do they?’

‘Of course. You’re mum to more than just Harry, remember,’ he chuckled, ‘and apparently I’m no fun to be around when you’re not about.’

‘That makes two of us,’ you mused.

‘So you’ll come with?’ he asked hopefully, his thumb moving gently along your denim clad thigh.

‘How could we refuse?’ you smiled. James beamed a smile and then leaned into kiss you, his lips capturing yours gently for a moment before he pulled back and rested his forehead against yours, still smiling.

‘I will say one thing though,’ you said.

‘What's that darling?’ he asked.

‘The sex isn’t going to be half as good when we’re seeing each other all the time,’ you said, your mind on those incidents when he’d managed to see you over past few months, the short time span and neediness in the both of you serving as conduit for passion you’d ever experienced before.

‘Hmm you might be right,’ he said, ‘but we’ll just have to keep trying to recreate it then won't we.’

‘Definitely,’ you giggled.

#my writing #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter fic #marauders #marauders fic #summer challenge #faithfully

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midnight-pluto · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! <3 could you please write a mutual pining only one bed fic for a gn!reader and Nico di Angelo

MOVE OVER — nico di a.

TROPES: mutual pining, only one bed, fluff, crack-ish

UNIVERSE: riordanverse

PAIRING(S): nico di angelo x gn!reader

WARNING(S): mentions of injuries, takes place after the giant war, i slipped incorrect quote in here for funsies, also because im slightly high

A/N: mattresses don’t count as beds

THE INFIRMARY WAS bound to be filled to the brim after todays events. Even with the help of the Roman Apollo kids, it was still practically double the amount of kids injured making them bring out mattresses for all of them to be taken care of.

You were one of the many kids to get hurt during the battle, a gash on your thigh along with minor cuts and scrapes was bound to get you landed there. It was unfortunate that you ended up on the mattress on the ground but you understood.

There were others in deeper trouble.

Something you were glad that happened is that your mattress was the one closest to the window with only one bed next to you, and on that bed is someone you’d like to call you’re friend. However, you’re unsure if he would dub you the same.

Nico di Angelo — son of Hades. From what you understood, he had known of the existence of both the Greeks and Romans, yet chose to not let them know of each other. That was one of the many things you admired about him.

The way he always manages to show up in just enough time and helps turn the tide in his favor, or the way he was able to bare the fact that he was treated as an outcast just for his parent and not make the rumors true. He was someone who you truly respected.

Nothing more. Nothing less. Totally.

Nico was laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was instructed by Will to sleep but couldn’t find it in himself to close his eyes for more than two minutes. He kept on glancing towards your figure laying soundlessly on the mattress on the ground.

You were one of the only ones to still smile at him whenever he passed by after the Titan War glory wore off. You were one of the only ones to not actively avoid him. One of the ones that didn’t send weary glances in his direction. You were someone who he truly respected.

Nothing more. Nothing less. Totally.

As the hour’s drifted past with nothing but murmurs and grunts filling the room Nico had drifted off to sleep along with it.

However, when he slept you awoke. Flashbacks from the past events and wars coming to haunt your dreams. Looking up only to see Nico’s back, only then do you make your move.

AS NICO BLINKED himself awake, he felt another presence in the bed. His hair was being played with was all he knew of, but it wasn’t a feeling he was opposed to. Tempted to relax once again, he fought off the urge and turned to face the other side of the bed for his eyes to only widen in surprise.

“Morning,” you smile, moving your hand away from his hair, “How’d you sleep last night?”

“What the hell,” Nico whisper shouted as to not alarm some of the sleeping patients, “What’re you doing in my bed? You were supposed to sleep on the air mattress on the floor.”

“I had a nightmare.”

“And you deciding sleeping on my bed was a solution to that problem,” he deadpanned, sitting up to face you and the pillow resting on your lap.

“Listen, I needed to feel comfortable and I was getting this weird power dynamic vibe from me sleeping in the ground and you sleeping up there,” you say, pointing to mattress on the floor and patting the sheets of the bed.

“Ah yes! How high and mighty I am up on my not even twin XL,” he deadpans, observing his and the rest of the beds in the infirmary.

“That is not what I meant—“

“Silence in the presence of your king,” Nico dramatically turned away with his eyes closed, leaning on one hand while the other was holding up its index finger as if to shush you, “Who sleeps at a lofty twelve and a half inches above the ground!”

Sighing with an amused smile on your face, not getting to see this side of him all that often, “Listen, I am not ashamed. I slept comfortably when I got up into your bed and I’m sure you did too.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You know what, I wanna know,” you lean your back against the headboard, “How’d you sleep last night?”

Sighing, he answers, “That was the best I’ve slept in a while.”

Gasping, you whisper, “The king slept comfortably with a peasant in his bed!”

“I did not consent to this—“

“But my liege our love is forbidden,” you joke, laughing softly at his flushed ears and deadpan expression.

A/N: did I want to add more detail? yes. would it be just slightly out of place? yes

#rin’s 200 follower event [🧸]#rin’s shots 🤎#pjo x you #pjo x reader #pjo fanfic #pjo fluff #only one bed #nico di angelo #nico di angelo x reader #nico x reader

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liquid-luck-00 · 9 months ago

Text

Red Binding 1

Maribat March Day 1: Origins

@maribat-calendar-events @maribatserver

Trigger for implied neglect, blood, and violence towards a minor

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette was, what most would consider a normal, happy, child. But that was far from the truth.

She was ten when she finally noticed something was off.

Her parents as much as she loved them and they said that they loved her. Never made time for her. Never asked more than how was her day, so she would ramble about anything and everything. She never had a curfew and her parents never seemed to worry. That's when the bullying began.

She was eleven when she recognized that the bakery was the top priority and not her.

Her school life was in shambles. Her friendships were strung by a thread, with even a whisper from Chloé, they would abandon her.

So when a small box appeared in her room, at the age of twelve, and from it a small red creature asked her to leave with them she agreed. They talked for hours, extending for days (a bit over a week in total), before she was truly good and ready to leave Paris. They spoke about their lives (existence in Tikki’s case), the powers and responsibilities that would be placed upon Marinette, but most of that time they enjoyed one another’s presence.

The creature listened to her, actually listened to what she had to say, gave her a choice, so she agreed to follow the creature.

In the middle of the night she packed a small bag and stood in the center of her room. "Are you ready, Marinette?" The creature, Tikki they called themselves, chirped. "As much as I can be." She looked the creature in the eyes and everything spun. It felt as if she was floating, or not, as she slammed onto the stone floor.

When she stood up, she dusted herself off and looked around. She was in a well kept garden, the air was thin, but the moon was bright over head.

"ལགས་སོ། ཁྱེད་རང་ཕེབས་བྱུང་།" A voice startled her as she jumped from the sound.

"Who are you?" She questioned. "Where am I?"

The man was still, he didn't seem to hear her, or maybe he didn't understand.

"ང་དང་མཉམ་དུ་ཤོག" The man turned and walked into a building that looked like some sort of temple. She stood there staring where the man used to be before he turned back. His even strides carried him right to her. "ངས་རང་ཉིད་ལ་བསྐྱར་ཟློས་མི་བྱེད།" The man's tone surprised her, she jumped to her feet, following him at a brisk pace.

Lanterns lit the walls of the hall, no doors or even windows could be seen. The two of them walked in silence for what seemed a half hour, but she couldn't tell. She tried to remember the path, but there were too many turns and steps to remember.

They stopped at an ornate circular red door, that was roughly twelve meters in diameter. Golden knots were carved expertly into the wood.

He stepped aside as if she was supposed to do something, but she didn't know what. So Marinette stepped forward and placed a hand on a golden vein.

A flash of golden light erupted from where her hand touched the wood, as it swung open on silent hinges.

She had turned away, in an attempt to shield her eyes.

"Welcome, child." A voice from inside was warm and she stepped forward.

She wanted to say something but thought better. Yes she understood this new voice, but the man before she still has no idea what he said. She just followed him and he led her here.

"Do not fear to speak child." The voice came from everywhere, echoing through the large cavern. What looked like an island garden sat in the middle. A giant oak tree with flowers blooming in complete darkness sat at this center. Chimes rang thought the branches without any wind.

"Who are you?" She finally asked, voice small, as she looked around. "Where am I?"

Chimes rang almost resembling laughter. "I am known as the supreme. As to where you are, you are with the Order of Miraculii, my child of creation."

"Order? Creation? Where is Tikki?" She started rambling questions in the hopes of at least one being answered.

"All will be answered in time." Chimes once again filled the cavern.

"སུའུ་晗་ང་ཚོའི་ན་གཞོན་སྲུང་མཁན་ལ་བཀའ་སློབ་གནང་རོགས།"

"ཁྱོད་ཀྱིས་བཀའ་གསུང་གནང་བ་བཞིན་དུ་ངའི་བླ་ན་མེད་" The man spoke with a bow, before placing a hand on her shoulder and leading her out of the cavern.

He led her to a room that was somewhere deep in the temple, at least she assumes it is. The room was simple, a four poster bed sat against the far wall. A desk was set next to it with a bookshelf that was carved into the wall above it. A dresser was next to the door, and a thick rug was spread underfoot.

"Tikki."

"Yes." The little god appeared in front of her with a poof.

"What’s going to happen now?"

"There is a lot for you to learn, but for now rest. The morning will come soon."

•••

Jason didn’t know why he left that night.

Scratch that he knew exactly why.

Bruce and Dick were arguing again, and no matter where he was at the manor he still heard them. But it wasn’t them it was Cathrine and Willis fighting for the uptenth time. So he did what he always did, he snuck out.

He was running roof tops trying and failing to get the voices out of his head. The weather was starting to change and a sludge of rain and snow fell around him. If only…

He shot out to grapple to the next building but with the semi frozen and slick exteriors the hook slipped. He began to free fall, as the line retracted, and everything was quiet. He heard his heart flutter then a sharp click. The line was back and he shot it again, this time it landed. He was yanked and thrown into a graceful arc before landing on another roof.

He stood in the middle of the high rise roof. Completely soaked but he didn’t care, he just wanted to stay in this quiet for a little while longer. He sneezed, breaking him from his stupor, sure the suit helped keep him relatively dry, but it didn’t do much for the cold, less still for his head that was completely out to the elements.

He kicked a few rocks that were strewn in the roof in an attempt to warm up, but stopped when some sort of metal glinted underfoot.

He reached down and found a ring, and when his fingers wrapped around the metal a flash of green illuminated the rooftop.

"Finally!" A nasally voice echoed around him. "I thought you were never going to notice it."

"Who are you?" He half whispered half yelped. "Show yourself." He reached for a batarang.

"No need kitten." A tiny cat like creature floated up to his eye level. "Names Plagg, and you are?"

He didn’t answer, he’ll he didn’t know if this was real or if he might actually be asleep. He gripped the batarang, feeling as it sliced through his glove straight to his hand.

"Not asleep." He whispered to himself. "So what are you?" He attempted to poke the creature with his finger, but it easily evaded him. It took hold of the ring and dropped it on to his finger.

"I am a kwamii, specifically of chaos and destruction." They puffed their chest, watching as the ring emanated a soft glow before it stopped. "And you are my kitten."

"I’m not your anything." He didn’t want to be involved with magic, it only seemed to cause problems, if the reports Bruce had was anything. "It started with that ring, right?"

"Yes an…" He didn’t let him finish speaking, he tried to pull the ring off, but it was gone.

"What did you do?" His attention snapped to the supposed god, or whatever it was.

It was about to say something when his vision started to blur. Something heavy slammed into his head. He felt himself starting to crumple forward, laughter ringing behind him.

When he woke up, Jason was tied and laying face first in a dingy old storeroom or maybe a warehouse. There wasn’t much light except for three industrial lights towards the center of the room. And under the furthest one was the silhouette of a person.

"Is the birdie awake?" The voice was tinged with laughter, it sent chills down his spine. He knows who that voice belongs to.

I’m sorry.

"Let’s have some fun now!" Joker came into his view and then he noticed the item in his hand, but he couldn’t stop him. The crowbar swung down and it connected with his upper arm. He was thrown into a box to his right. The next hit was to his stomach, as he coughed up blood.

I’m sorry. He heard again, but Joker didn’t react to it. So he knows Plagg is in his mind.

Stop apologizing and talk. He thought, and he did.

Plagg told him a story. He tuned out best he could, but it was difficult whenever he would be thrown around. It even felt like Plagg was holding his breath at times, waiting for his attention to continue.

"Well it’s been fun, Boy Blunder, but you should go to bed. Don’t forget to brush your teeth and say hello to the Big Bad Bat." He left him there in a heap on the floor, a ringing his ears silenced everything except for Plagg.

"Come on, get up! Please!" He saw Plagg flying in frantic circles over a box.

"There is a bomb, and…" Plagg placed two paws on his forehead before flying back, to where the bomb must be. "You will live, Kitten, I swear it."

A flash of green and black rolled over him, yet the blast of air did however destroy the building they were in. But he saw Plagg fly back to him. He felt him curl into his hair, his purring rhythmic, as he began to loose consciousness.

"What a waste." He felt someone turn him over. Changing the path of the blood on his face to stream into his mouth. It tasted like iron, and dirt, and it burned his throat. "I will see you when you awaken."

His world went black, Plagg’s put was a constant rumble. The next time he opened his eyes it was dark, Plagg was on his chest staring at him, his green eyes glowing in the dark.

Steady breaths kitten. Plagg’s voice echoed in his mind, as he tried to explain what was happening. You’re in a coffin.

"How!?" He began to panic, but Plagg began purring which calmed him.

You need to stay calm, you can get out. Focus my power.

I don’t know how. He thought, not risking wasting the little air he had.

The ring on your finger is a focus for power. Do you feel the space my presence takes up within your mind?

He searched concentrating on Plagg’s voice and presence in his mind. Yes.

Good. Now pull that towards the ring. He pulled at it but there was a resistance, like a rubber band being stretched too far.

Slowly. He made the connection and his palm glowed with a faint black and green light. Now touch the area in front of you.

He did and as soon as he did the rubber band snapped back. But a hole big enough for him to pass though was above him, along with a foot of dirt above it. He was tired but he tried again. It was harder this time, but he managed. He touched the top of the dome, but only a few inches disappeared this time. He was about to try again when Plagg stopped him.

Don’t kid! You’re exhausted. Channeling magic requires energy along with training it, like any other muscle. We have to dig the rest of the way.

Fine. He huffed.

The ground was wet and soft from all the rain. But he knew if he didn’t hurry that would be an obstacle. It was starting to freeze. That’s how he knew he was getting close to the surface. Plagg had been moving the dirt into the casket, allowing him to stand. Yet he flew up to him this time with a broken piece of wood, and he knew just what he needed it for. He finally broke through the surface and pulled himself up. He laid back, legs still in the hole, but he stared at the cloudy sky, taking giant gulps of air.

"I knew you could do it, Kitten." Plagg stiffened and his hackles rose before disappearing. Guard yourself.

What do you mean?

"You were quicker than I thought." A feminine voice carried through the cemetery. He stiffened, knowing what Plagg was warning him of. "Now let us be off."

Someone grabbed him and he tried to fight them, but he was exhausted and they weren’t.

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist:

@jennifer-rose123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @joydone07 @mizzy-pop @starling218 @crystalqueertea

#maribat #Maribat March 2024 #Plagg is actually helpful #maribat Tom and Sabine salt #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #dc x miraculous #miraculous x dc #maribat marinette #maribat jason todd #Mari was originally kidnapped by the Order so this would have been a villain origin #but I didn’t think it would have fit with Jay maybe Damian or even Bruce

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kining-the-evil · 2 years ago

Note

hello :) i absolutely loved your yandere haymitch hc’s and i was wondering if i could request a yandere haymitch x fem reader (can either be hc’s or an imagine) where reader is in her early 20s and another victor from district twelve? you can write whatever you’d like, i’m good with any level of yandereness and dark content! thank you <3

I’ll Protect You

Summary: Haymitch promised himself that after your games he would protect you, but after the announcement of the Quarter Quirl there isn’t much he can do

Warnings: hunger games violence, soft Yandere!haymitch, mental manipulation, angry Haymitch, drinking

An: I am genuinely shocked by the lack of Haymitch fics on here. I Hope it lives up to your expectations!

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

To some, it seemed like you had signed your own fate. Sure, you didn’t volunteer to fight in the hunger games and it wasn’t your fault that Haymitch was your mentor, but you had been kind to the man. The first day on the train you helped him to his room after getting drunk at dinner, and you brought him breakfast the next morning. While your fellow tribute got angry and yelled at him, you defended Haymitch.

How was he not supposed to feel something for you.

For the first time in a long time, he gave his everything into helping you succeed in the games. He painted you as the princess of the capital, charming and sweet, and someone they would all want to keep around. You got a tone of sponsors, all of witch helped you to hide and let the other tributes kill each other until the last hours of the games.

When you won, Haymitch thought he would cry. In fact, he did later on when alone. He was there immediately, in the infirmary when you came out, on the train, when you got home, and when you had to do your tour. And you seemed to be there for him, something he hadn’t had in so long.

It was less then a year before your ‘relationship’ started. If you had been on the outside of the relationship, you would have seen the red flags. The flags Haymitch justified.

He was older, but that meant he could lead you through this new life.

He was a drunk, but you didn’t seem to mind taking care of him.

He was possessive, but he was just protecting you.

You didn’t have a friend or family member who could warn you, and you fell into his ‘trap.’ You listened when he said you should stay with him, or when he didn’t want you to leave the house for months at a time. You listened when he told you how he was the only one who could keep you safe, that he would protect you because that’s what you do when you love someone.

“Good morning, Katniss,” You hollered when the door to your home opened. Despite the girls prickly attitude, you were so happy when her and Peeta had won this year. They deserved it, plus it gave you other people to see. Haymitch was always much less…intense around others. So the two of them coming in the home you and Haymitch shared was a welcoming change.

The girl didn’t great you other then a small smile before grabbing a cup of water and marching over to where Haymitch was passed out on the table.

“Here we Go…” you mumbled while grabbing a towel. You back was turned when his voice rang through the room.

“What the hell!?”

You hurried with the towel, getting to him quickly to start drying his head.

“If you wanted kind, you should have asked Peet’s to wake you up.” Katniss didn’t stay to chat, choosing to leave as quickly as she arrived.

“Thank you darling.” He took the towel to finish drying his face. His hair was a tangled mess, and the bags under his eyes highlighted the recent lack of sleep. He looked like a mess. But a simple smile from the man made you melt. Something about that smile made you willing to do anything for him.

“Of course.” You kissed his cheek lightly, feeling the skin of his cheek tighten lightly from his smile. You grabbed the breakfast you had made a while ago, setting it on the table for him. “I made this this morning.”

“Looks wonderful,” he slurred lightly before eating the food. That was one thing that brought you happiness, his smile. Even when he was blackout drunk, he still smiled at you like you were his everything.

The rest of the meal was quiet, nether of you really talking. The most anyone said was Haymitch encouraging you to eat a bit more.

“Do you have anything you have to do today?” You hoped he said no, staying alone in the large house was awful and you never really knew how long he’d be gone.

“Not really, other then damage control for Katniss.” He sounded tired, but pulled himself out of his seat to walk over to you. “I’ll have to go out for a bit.”

He pulled you to him slightly, scanning over your face. You could just imagine how someone else would react to how he treated you, the asshole alcoholic holding you softly.

“Promise me you’ll stay here, all day, and I’ll be back to watch the Quarter Quell announcement with you.” You shivered at the mention of this years games. You couldn’t help but wonder at what fucked up idea they would use for this year. “Hey,” he took your chin in his hand so you’d look at him. “Promise?”

“Ok.” You nodded lightly and he gifted you that beautiful smile. He placed a light kiss on your forehead before pulling away from you and walking away to change out of the clothes he had passed out in.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

The slight breeze bit into your skin as you pulled the large door closed behind you. It hadn’t taken long for you to get board after Haymitch had left, and you weren’t really looking to read a book or watch some Capital broadcast. So you had decided to take a small walk. You’d stayed out of the main part of town, keeping towards the fence on the boarder.

You walked through the house, getting a drink, and walking into the living room.

“Where were you?”

You jumped, letting out a surprised cry and spinning around to see Haymitch. He was slouched down in one of the chairs, a glass of what you assumed was whiskey in his hand.

“Haymitch! You scared me!” You chuckled a bit, giving him a smile. “I just went on a quick walk, clear my head-“

“Why did you leave?” He stood up surprisingly quickly, considering the half bottle of whiskey on the table next to him.

“I just told you? I went on a walk.” You chuckled, slightly confused. Was he…angry?

“You told me,” he set the glass down and walked up to you, caging You between him and the wall. “That you wouldn’t leave. And yet, I get home and you’re gone.”

“I-I didn’t think-“

“You’re right, you didn’t think. If you had, you would have fucking stayed here like I told you to.” His voice was dripping with anger, but his face was unreadable. That was something you hated. He could be so unreadable, and it made it that much harder to know what he was thinking.

“I’m sorry,” you offered. You didn’t know what he wanted to hear from you.

“There is no reason to leave without me, understand? I don’t want to ever see you out there without me, I don’t care if Katniss, Peeta, hell, I don’t care if Effy is with you.” For a moment his face cracked, making your breath hitch. If you could read it on his face that he was mad, then you knew he was mad.

“Ok, I won’t,” you whispered. He seemed to accept that, pulling to his chest.

“Good. Now come on, we have to watch the broadcast.”

He led you to the couch, sitting down before pulling you to his side. You tended to avoid any of these broadcast that you could, but you weren’t able to this year. The announcement of the new stipulation would be on, and Snow was adamant that ever Victor be watching.

It started normal, Snow talking about how the games were required for peace. He discussed the terms of the last two games, and finally he made the announcement.

“This year, to remind us that even the strongest are not immune to the Capitals power, the tributes for the 75th hunger games will be reaped from the existing pool of victors from each district.”

He continued to talk after that, but you couldn’t actually hear anything. The ringing in your ears blocked everything out as you processed his words. Victors would be chosen. It would be you are Katniss. Peeta or Haymitch.

“Y/n? Darling, come back to me.” You vaguely recognized his voice as Haymitch gently shook you. “Darling, talk to me.” He tried again, but got no verbal answer. Instead, you folded in on yourself, letting him gently hold you.

“It’s gonna be ok, I promise. I’ll keep you safe.”

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

“Peeta lives.”

Haymitch glanced up, practically glaring at Katniss. Of course she was already over here. “You should learn to knock.”

“Last year you fought for me to win, I want Peeta to win,” she repeated.

“Let me tell You a secret sweetheart,” he stood up to be face to face with the woman. “I don’t really care what you want.” She looked slightly stunned, but he just continued. “The only thing I care about, is keeping her alive.” He pointed towards the hall that led to your room. “In fact, I would kill you and Peeta if it meant she’d be safe.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Really? Don’t forget, Ive killed too. I’ve also convinced y/n to willingly give up any freedom she had. She willingly stays in the house, she moved in, she truly loves me. And I love her. And I’m sure as hell not letting that go.”

His voice was steady, eyes hard, clearly not playing. He was serious.

“I knew there was something wrong with how you interact with her. You kidnapped her, didn’t you.”

“It’s only kidnapping if She is here against her will. Go home, and you better hope to god she doesn’t end up in those games because I think we both know Peeta isn’t going to let me go in there. He’s far to nice.” He smirked lightly before walking away from the girl standing in his kitchen.

#request #hunger games #hunger games x reader #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy #yandere!haymitch abernathy #yandere

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year ago

Text

Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 14 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - When Spencer’s drinking gets out of control, he reaches out to a friend for help. He makes a series of decisions for the sake of his own mental health.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

A/N - I don’t know how finals work so I just made it up. Also questions detailed for Spencer’s therapy are taken from real life therapy questionnaires.

Warnings - arguing, drinking, drunk Spencer, one night stand, mentions of protective sex, swearing, slight alcohol abuse, AA meetings, mention of past drug addiction, therapists, talk of depression, Spencer gets angry at Taco, mentions of dog urine and faeces, therapy questionnaires, mentions of affairs and divorce, mentions of schizophrenia.

WC - 5.7k

Chapter 14 - Forever Winter

He says he doesn't believe anything much he hears these days,

He says, "Why fall in love, just so you can watch it go away?"

He spends most of his nights wishing it was how it used to be,

He spends most of his flights getting pulled down by gravity.

Professor Monroe did not return to work on Monday and so Spencer had to spend another week with you.

It was finals week which meant longer hours, more time having to be spent together. It made the long, awkward silences more uncomfortable, the withering looks more grating.

He tried to focus on the fact two days after he’d put in the offer on the house it had been accepted, and less than twelve hours after that he’d agreed an offer on his own home.

Between finals, the tension with you and getting the ball rolling with his house sale and purchase, Spencer was stretched extremely thin.

He still tried to give his all to his girls but his evenings were spent with papers and forms and all kinds of other legal nonsense that Maeve had taken care of last time.

Honestly, he was exhausted. And it didn’t help matters that every time he saw you his heart shattered a little more.

He thankfully made it through the last week of the semester with his sanity still just about in check. He was packing up his office for the summer when there was a knock at his door.

“Come in,” he stood up straight as the door opened and you tentatively walked inside.

You clutched your purse close like it was your only lifeline.

“Was there anything else you needed before I head out?” You asked politely, but there was a hint of frustration in your voice.

“Uh no I don’t think so. Have a good summer I guess.” He replied, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

You nodded curtly and turned back to the door but before you could leave Spencer spoke again.

“Do you want to maybe grab a coffee? I’d really like to just clear the air.”

Your back straightened as you slowly turned back to him.

“I, uh…I have plans.” You shrugged, rolling your lip between your teeth.

Your facial expression told Spencer all the things you weren’t saying.

“Oh,” he croaked. “You have a date?”

“Not a date…not really. I’m just having dinner with a guy I went to college with. S’not a big deal.” You continued gnawing on your lip.

“Wow, good to see you’ve bounced back so fast.” His lips drew into a tight line and he grabbed his satchel off the desk, swinging it over his shoulder and heading for the door,

“It’s not like that.” You huffed, holding your hands out to stop him as he went to pass you.

“Sure it’s not.” He rolled his eyes. “So while I’ve been missing you every second of every day you’ve been reconnecting with an old college “friend”. Super, just super.”

You grabbed him by the shoulders when he tried to pass you again and shoved him backwards a little.

“You don’t get to do this,” you spat. “You don’t get to be mad at me for moving on. We broke up because you’re in love with someone else, Spencer! What am I supposed to do? Pine over you? Make myself miserable and wallow because you didn’t love me the way I love you? You don’t have the right to be mad, Spencer.”

“I have the right to be whatever I want to be.” He bit back. “Clearly you didn’t love me as much as you claimed to if you can move on so fast. I was married for a long time, I’m allowed to have complicated feelings about that. But my feelings for my ex in no way diminished my feelings for you. There’s no rule book on love Y/N. Just because I still love my ex-wife doesn’t mean I don’t also love you. Have a good summer, and have a wonderful time with your college friend.”

He pushed past you and you let him go. He swung open the door so aggressively it bounced on its hinges and hit the wall. You stepped out into the corridor after him and couldn’t stop yourself yelling after him.

“Go to hell Doctor Reid!”

You saw him slow his pace briefly, as though he might turn back and reply but he didn’t. He forced himself to keep walking.

And once he was out of sight, your first tear escaped your eye.

***

The music thrummed through the speakers, vibrating down the walls, through the floorboards and up through the soles of his shoes.

It pulsed and pumped like a frantically beating heart, filling his veins with a nervous energy which manifested in his constantly jiggling left leg and fingers drumming against the table top.

His free hand which wasn’t tapping the table was grasped around his glass as he raised it to his lips and swallowed down the amber liquid.

He slammed the empty glass back on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m getting another drink.” He yelled to be heard over the music and went to stand but a hand on his arm stopped him.

“I think you’ve had enough, Reid.” Emily replied just as loudly.

“Weren’t you quitting drinking anyway?” JJ asked him.

“I thought this was supposed to be fun. I’m not having fun.” He groaned.

After dropping the girls at Maeve’s he’d called JJ and asked if he could come over, not wanting to be alone.

She’d informed him it was girls night, she, Emily, Penelope and Tara were going out to a club on one of their rare Friday nights off.

The next thing she’d known, Spencer had invited himself along.

He was four scotch’s deep and it was already going to his head. All four women were incredibly worried about him.

“What if we dance? Dancing’s fun.” Penelope tried.

“I hate dancing.” Spencer shook his head. “I’m getting another drink.”

This time when he got up no one tried to stop him. The four women exchanged glances as he pushed his way through the crowds towards the bar.

“I’m worried about him.” JJ shook her head sadly.

“Me too.” Garcia agreed.

“He just needs to blow off some steam. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Tara shrugged, sipping her wine. “Not much of a ladies night.”

“Let’s go dance while he’s distracted.” Emily suggested and the others nodded in agreement.

Spencer didn’t see them go, too busy trying to get the bartender's attention. His head was spinning and he felt like he could taste the music, it was so loud.

But the more he drank, the less he thought about you and your date-not-a-date. The more scotch he consumed the less he pictured you rolling around in bed with some college friend you’d never mentioned before.

The more alcohol he indulged in, the less his heart felt like it was breaking.

He ordered his drink and took a large sip of it, relishing in the way the alcohol burned as it slid down his throat.

When he turned away from the bar there was a set of large brown eyes staring right at him.

The woman the eyes belonged to was tall and curvaceous, shoulder length blonde hair and a smile directed right at him.

She moved closer to him, her hips swaying as she walked. When she reached him, she placed her hands on his shoulders, moving her face close to his ear so she could be heard when she spoke.

“Hi,” she breathed against his ear. “I’m Lauren.”

“Spencer,” he replied, his free hand finding purchase on her hip.

“I saw you with that group of women, one of them your girlfriend?”

“Nope, no. Just friends. No girlfriend.” He swallowed, his hand gripping the glass shaking a little.

“That’s good to know.” She giggled, pulling away from his ear and looking down at his lips which were parted slightly.

He knew this was a terrible idea, so far past terrible in fact. But he also couldn’t help himself. Lauren was beautiful, seductive and clearly interested in him. And maybe she was just what he needed to take his mind off of things.

He raised his drink to his lips and downed it, placing the empty on the bar behind him. One hand still on her hip, his now free one cupped her cheek, brushing his fingertips against her skin.

“You got a problem with me kissing you?” He smiled at her.

“Not at all.” She smiled back before he was soon slamming their lips together.

The last thing Spencer remembered before the alcohol took over was grabbing her by the hand and leading her towards the door, the two of them fleeing together into the night.

***

By the fourth time Taco barked, Spencer forced his eyes open. The mangy dog was sitting on the floor next to his bed, glaring at his owner with his beady little eyes.

“Go away,” Spencer grumbled, his head immediately starting to throb. “You aren’t going to starve. Just need a little more sleep.”

He pulled the duvet over his head and ignored Taco when he barked twice more. He groaned into his pillow, his stomach turning and head pounding.

Taco barked again and Spencer half considered getting up just to kick the dog until he was silent. But the dog was the least of his concerns.

“Can you shut that thing up?” A female voice came from behind him and Spencer sat up and whipped around so fast the whole room spun.

Her blonde hair was tangled on the pillow and the sheet was slung around her waist, her bare chest on display.

“What the fuck?” He panted, lifting the sheet and looking down at his own naked body beneath it. “Oh fuck, did we? Shit!”

He lept out of bed and the woman grumbled while he tried to locate his boxers.

“Why are you being so loud?” She whined.

He found his underwear and pulled them on before turning back to her.

“You need to leave, now.” He told her, her eyes fluttering open.

“Well that’s rude.” She pulled the sheet over her body.

“This shouldn’t have happened. We shouldn’t have…fuck!” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Did we use protection?”

Lauren sat up against the pillows, eyes blurry and hair messy.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I was as drunk as you were.”

“Are you on the pill?” He glared at her.

“Yes.” She huffed,

“But you don’t know if we used a condom? Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m such a fucking idiot.” He started pacing, hunting the room for a used condom or a ripped packet.

“What is your problem?” She groaned, rubbing her eyes and causing her mascara to flake.

“My problem? My problem!” He raised his voice even though it hurt his head to do so. “My problem is I have two kids that were born from a combination of too much alcohol and forgotten condoms. Fuck, how could I be so stupid?”

“You have kids?” She frowned.

“Yes! Why do you think I live in this giant suburban hell hole?” He continued to search the room.

Lauren glanced around the room, she hadn’t noticed last night how feminine his bedroom was.

“Jesus Christ, you didn’t tell me you were married!” She spat, swinging her legs out of the bed.

“I’m not married. I said I have kids.” He found the trash can in the corner and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the used condom sitting on top. “Oh thank fuck.”

“You’re telling me a woman doesn’t live here?” She scoffed, locating her clothes and starting to dress.

“A woman used to live here, I haven’t decorated. I’m moving out…it doesn’t matter. None of that matters. You need to leave.”

“Don’t worry I’m going.” Lauren dressed as quickly as she could. “I did not sign up for this.”

She was soon throwing her heels back on and found her purse tossed on the dressing table which she grabbed before leaving the room. Spencer followed her, still wearing only his underwear and motioned her downstairs towards the front door.

“I, uh, I don’t mean to be an asshole,” he swallowed as he unlocked the door. “I really wasn’t in the right frame of mind last night. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” Lauren clucked as the door opened. “It is what it is.”

She weaved past him and out of the door, heading down the front steps as the gate opened and someone started up the path. Spencer closed his eyes and leant back against the door jamb.

He didn’t watch as you encountered the scantily dressed blonde halfway down the path. He refused to look as you gave her a once over and as Lauren rolled her eyes.

“I thought you said a woman didn’t live here?” Lauren called back to him.

Spencer’s eyes shot open and he looked guiltily between you and her.

“It’s not…I know this looks bad but it’s not…” He groaned, wanting the world to swallow him whole.

“Wear a ring, asshole!” Lauren spat and before he could explain, she was strutting away on her too high heels.

You glared at him from the path, not wanting to come any closer as the rage bubbling through your veins might cause you to physically hurt him.

“Hi,” he shrugged meekly. “I really wish you’d shown up like, two minutes later.”

“You really are something else, aren’t you?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You called me sixteen times last night, left me five voicemails telling me how much you missed me and now I show up here and see some bimbo leaving your house? Jesus Christ, Spencer, seriously?”

“I…sixteen times?” He frowned, he didn’t remember calling you once let alone sixteen times.

“Yes,” You nodded, taking a few tentative steps closer. “I even left dinner earlier, I walked out on a nice evening with an uncomplicated, charming man. And I actually came here today because I thought, maybe, maybe we could work on things. And then I see her leaving and it certainly doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened between the two of you.”

He followed your gaze when you gestured up and down his nearly naked frame. He grimaced, wrapping his arms around his torso as his cheeks flushed.

“I was…drunk. Really drunk and I made a really bad judgement call. But in my defence, I was upset, ok? I was sad and so I drank and I couldn’t stop thinking about you and your college friend and I figured a one night stand might take my mind off of things.” He shrugged with a deep sigh. “It didn’t mean anything, I swear.”

“I don’t care, Spencer.” You shook your head. “I’m glad I saw her actually, because now I know it was a huge mistake coming here. We were never going to be able to work things out. Your one night stand saved me from more heartbreak.”

“Just come inside, let's talk.”

“No.” You shook your head, taking a few steps backwards.

“Y/N, please?” He begged, stepping out of his house.

“No, no. I shouldn’t have come here in the first place. I have to go.” You continued walking backwards while Spencer carried on towards you.

You bumped into the gate and quickly turned to open it.

“Y/N, wait, please!” He hurried towards you, but you were already back on the street, running towards your car. “Y/N! Wait….please? Fuck!”

He yelled, running his fingers through his hair. He glanced across the street where his neighbour who had been tending to her yard was staring at him. Of course she was, he was the crazy man screaming after a woman wearing nothing but his boxers.

“Morning Mrs Lopez.” He offered a tight lipped smile and meek wave before turning away from her and retreating back inside.

Once the door was closed he fell back against it, shaking his head at his own stupidity. Just when things seemed to be as bad as they could get, he kept making them worse. He couldn’t seem to do anything right lately.

Drinking as much as he was certainly wasn’t helping matters. He thought he’d had it under control but maybe he was wrong.

He was falling apart at the seams. He needed to do something, needed to make a change before his anger and his sadness ripped his whole life apart. If he continued on this self-destructive path he could lose everything, his girls included.

And they deserved more from him.

It was time he took a good, long look in the mirror and made a change. It was time for Spencer Reid to start thinking about himself and make some drastic changes before his life wound up upside down.

No more drinking. He had to put a stop to that before it had a chance to escalate, he knew all too well the perils of addiction.

He dragged himself back upstairs and found his cell phone, pulling up his contacts and locating her number. He sat on the edge of the bed while it rang a few times, soon her breezy voice was carrying down the line.

“Reid, hi. Where did you go last night, we were worried about you?”

“I’m fine, everything’s fine.” He tried to placate her but then he sighed. “Actually that’s not true. Nothing is fine.”

“What’s wrong?” She quickly panicked down the line.

“I need your help.” He sniffed, his eyes welling with tears. “I hate to have to ask you this with your history with your ex, but I don’t know who else to ask. I can’t keep on like this, I really need to get sober. Would you…would you go to a meeting with me?”

There was a pause of silence while his words sunk in and he worried briefly she would shoot him down. But soon enough she was speaking.

“Of course I will, Reid. Of course I will.” Tara Lewis replied, that calming tone of hers wrapping him in a comforting blanket.

“Thank you Tara. Thank you so much.” He sniffed again, a few tears escaping.

“I’ll have a look online and find something nearby ok? I’ll text you the details.”

“Ok,” He nodded, closing his eyes. “Tara?”

“Yes Reid?”

“Please don’t tell anyone. They’ll only worry.”

Tara didn’t think it would help him to hear how worried they all were about him already. Instead she agreed and soon they were both hanging up the phone.

***

It had been over fifteen years since Spencer set foot in some kind of meeting. Back then, when he’d been going through his dilaudid addiction, he’d attended a few meetings at Beltway Clean Cops. This was his first time going to such a place with civilians.

But he’d been a civilian himself now for a long time, so he guessed it made sense.

He spent most of it sitting in the back with Tara, clutching her hand while others spoke. Towards the end she encouraged him to go up and speak.

Despite his awkwardness, public speaking had never phased him much. Not usually anyway. But standing up at that podium and having to talk in front of a room full of addicts was one of the most nerve wracking experiences of his life.

He made eye contact with Tara who gave him a soft smile and a nod of motivation.

“Uh, hi, I’m Spencer.” He began, not taking his eyes off of Tara.

“Hi Spencer.” The room spoke in unison.

“I, uh…I suppose I’m here because I have a problem. I don’t want to use the word addiction because I don’t think I’m at that stage yet but it’s certainly heading that way.” He rolled his lip between his teeth. “Years ago I had a problem with dilaudid, I haven’t used in over fifteen years. I don’t know that I can say I was sober though, because I still drank from time to time.

Over the last year that drinking has gotten heavier. For a long time I didn’t think of alcohol the same as I did dilaudid, it seemed so harmless in comparison. But I think I’ve started replacing one vice with another and if I don’t stop drinking entirely it is going to get to a point where I can’t stop.

I have two kids, two little girls and I am their primary caregiver. Lily is seven and Daisy is fourteen and old enough to know that I am struggling. Their mom and I were married for thirteen years before she dropped a bombshell that she’d been having an affair for three years. I guess I’ve not been the same since. On the weekends I don’t have my girls, I tend to drink to numb the pain.

I know I need to make a change, even if only for my daughter’s. So I came here in the hopes of quitting drinking before it’s too late for me.”

He took a deep breath once he was finished. He hadn’t planned to say all of that but he found when he started talking he couldn’t stop.

Tara was smiling at him with pride and she started to clap which caused the rest of the room to join in.

Spencer felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment and he averted his gaze down to the podium. He hurried away while the applause continued and kept his eyes on the floor as he made his way back to his seat.

As soon as he sat down, Tara took hold of his hand and he glanced at her. She was smiling brightly at him and if he wasn’t mistaken, he swore she had tears in her eyes.

“I’m so proud of you.” She mouthed at him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

He smiled in thanks and turned back to face the front as another speaker took to the podium.

Truth be told, he was proud of himself too.

***

Tara took him for lunch after the meeting and he regaled her with all the sorry details of what happened after he left the bar last night, including you showing up at his house. She listened patiently, giving input where necessary and never once judging him.

After they ate, they went for a walk in the park for a while until it got a little too hot and they found a bench in the shade of a large tree.

“A while ago you mentioned to me about seeing a therapist.” He spoke without looking at her. “I think it’s probably a good idea.”

“I have some friends in the field, I can give you some numbers.” She watched the side of his face.

“Yes please, that would be helpful.” He played with his hands in his lap, slowly turning his head to look at Tara. “You know, Daisy asked me if I was depressed and I honestly think that’s the first time I’d ever really thought about it before. That’s what this is right? Depression.”

“Most likely.” She nodded slowly. “But I think with the right combination of therapy and medication you’ll be just fine, Spencer.”

“You think it gets better?” He asked, rolling his lip between his teeth somewhat violently.

“I know it will get better.” She took hold of his hand once more and held it tightly. “You’ve had a rough time, life has not been kind to you. But you deserve to be happy again and you will be.”

“Thank you.” He sniffed.

“For what?”

“For today, for everything really. If it weren’t for you and the team and my girls, I would have crumbled a long time ago.”

“If you ever do crumble,” Tara squeezed his hand. “You can be assured we will all be there to help you pick up the pieces. That’s what family is for.”

A tear escaped his eye and he was quick to bat it away. Tara continued to hold his hand while they sat in silence, watching the world pass them by from the park bench.

When they parted ways, she gave him some numbers of therapists and he promised to call her if he felt the need to drink again. He had to admit he felt a little lighter by the time he returned home that evening.

But then he walked in his door.

In the state he’d been in that morning he had forgotten that leaving his shit for brain’s dog alone all day would be a terrible idea. He’d also forgotten to feed the mangy thing. And boy had Taco protested.

His couch was almost entirely ripped to shreds, the leather fabric clawed and scratched apart. The one remaining couch cushion Taco hadn’t already destroyed was now ruined, in a pile of fluff on the floor.

He’d knocked over the coat rack and torn apart Spencer’s favourite navy blue pea coat. The coat rack had clearly knocked into the wall and left a dent behind, one more mark he would have to fix before he moved.

On top of that there was a yellow urine stain in the middle of the living room and as Spencer moved further into the house he found Taco had also defecated at the bottom of the stairs.

He ignored the mess and the dog, because if he didn’t he might actually strangle the mutt, and headed through to the kitchen. He opened the back door and Taco sprinted into the yard.

He put food down for the moronic creature, wanting nothing more than to open the back gate and let the dog run free, he could tell the girls he accidentally got out. He cleaned up the pile of faeces in the hall and scrubbed the carpet of urine.

He left the back door open while he trudged upstairs and was met with yet more destruction caused by the dog.

Thankfully Daisy and Lily’s bedroom doors had been left shut but he’d failed to do the same with his own. One of his pillows had met the same fate as the couch cushion. He’d managed somehow to get the book off of Spencer’s nightstand and torn that to shreds, ripped pages littering his bed.

He’d turned the trash can upside down and the used condom was laying in the middle of the room.

“Gross, so gross.” Spencer groaned, picking up the garbage, condom included and throwing it back in the trash. “I swear to god I am going to put you down myself, Taco.”

In his ensuite, Taco had pulled his towel off of the back of the door and urinated on it.

He snatched it up and marched downstairs where he tossed the soiled towel into the washing machine. Taco was back inside, happily eating his kibble without a care in the world.

“Something needs to change.” He spat at the dog even though he couldn’t understand him. “I am not putting up with this.”

Taco, not surprisingly, didn’t reply, instead carried on eating.

Spencer closed the back door and slumped through to his living room, falling down on his trashed couch.

He pulled out his cell phone and typed a quick text message.

📲 To: Luke Alvez - Hey man, I don’t suppose you know any good dog trainers? This fucking creature is going to be the death of me.

He hit send, before pulling out the list of names Tara had given him earlier. She’d put a little star next to one name in particular who she thought would be a good fit for Spencer.

Before he could change his mind, he dialled the number.

“Hello, you’ve reached the office of Doctor Maria Sanchez, Hannah speaking, how may I help?” A chipper female voice came down the line.

“Uh, hi. A friend of mine gave me Doctor Sanchez’s number. I’d like to make an appointment I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Ok, sure. You’d need to fill out a questionnaire but if you give me an email address I can get that sent over to you. You can just email it right back and Doctor Sanchez will review it and be in touch.”

Spencer exhaled before reeling off his email address. A few minutes later he was hanging up. A reply from Luke awaited him.

📱 Do I know any good dog trainers? You offend me, Reid. Who do you think trained Roxy? I’d be happy to help corral your pup. Just been called in on a case but I’ll hit you up when I’m back.

He put his phone down and exhaled deeply. He was starting to make strides. He was moving house, he’d gone to his first meeting, he was looking into a therapist and sorting out his nightmare dog.

The next thing on the agenda was to buy a new couch.

***

The following morning he opened his computer in his office and faced a four page pre-therapy questionnaire.

It started out simple enough, his name, date of birth occupation, current employer and his home address. Relatively straight forward stuff. The first set of questions were about his parents, what his childhood was like and a section to detail any siblings.

It wasn’t easy to fill out given his family history, but he managed it. It was the next section in which he started having issues.

If married, please give the name and age of your spouse and the date of your marriage. If you have been married before, please write the names of your former spouses(s) and the date(s) of that (those) marriage(s).

Briefly describe your marital relationship(s).

God-fucking-damnit.

He tried not to let himself think about what he was writing, just let his fingers glide across the keyboard without giving it too much thought. It was easy enough to type out her name and age and the date of their marriage. It was the second question he had difficulty with.

He swallowed thickly as he started to type in the allocated box.

I became separated from my wife over a year ago when she informed me she had been having a three year long affair. We later got divorced. Before her affair we had a good marriage, for the most part. I wasn’t always home a lot due to my job but we were happy I think. I guess that’s not true though because if that were true then she wouldn’t have cheated on me. We have not remained on good terms.

He started typing about his girls but then his eyes glanced at the next question and realised that was better saved, so he deleted that part and moved onto the next box.

Please give the names and ages of all children and stepchildren, whether or not they are living at home.

Daisy Reid, fourteen / Lily Reid, seven. They live at home with me and stay with their mother every other weekend.

He stopped typing to take a sip of coffee while he glanced at the next question.

Do you or anyone in your family have a history of depression or other mental illness? Were any ever hospitalised for this?

He closed his eyes and let out a staggered breath. He’d thought the actual therapy would be the hard part, this was supposed to be a walk in the park in comparison. He had another sip of coffee and began to type again.

My mother suffers from schizophrenia and I made the decision to institutionalise her when I was eighteen.

Short and simple. He didn’t want to dive too much into this. But then the next question almost forced him to shut the computer down entirely and retreat back to bed.

Have you or any member of your family ever had a problem of misusing alcohol or drugs? Who and for how long? Is there a current problem?

He let out another breath, shaking his head at the computer as if it was somehow the device's fault.

I had a problem with dilaudid between 2006 and 2007. I have been clean since but have recently realised I use alcohol as a coping mechanism. I am going to meetings and trying to get sober.

The following few questions were about his educational history and his physical health which were much easier to answer. The next section was about his concerns about therapy and what he hoped to achieve from it. All fairly straightforward.

The last section was a list of fifteen statements in which he was supposed to mark on a scale of 0 to 3 how often those problems had affected him in the last week, zero being none at all and three being severe. He took a breath and just tried to hurry through them.

Feeling lonely 3

Low motivation to get things done 2

Trouble concentrating 3

Fatigue 3

Worry 3

Trouble falling asleep 3

Awaking during the night with problems returning to sleep 3

Tension in shoulders, neck or chest 3

Irritability 3

Thoughts of ending your own life 0

Feeling guilty 3

Feeling hopeless 3

Feeling worthless 3

Sexual concerns 0

Body discomfort 0

At the very least he hadn’t answered three to all of them, he thought, grimacing at his answers. Before he could talk himself out of it he replied to the email and attached the form, hitting send and not letting himself dwell on the answers he’d given.

He sat back in his chair and sipped his coffee, knowing he needed to go out and buy a replacement couch before he picked the kids up tomorrow. He didn’t enjoy the idea of them seeing the destruction their stupid dog had caused.

It took him almost an hour of sitting at his desk, staring at the wall until he finally got his legs to cooperate and he stood up. Before he left the house he shut Taco in the kitchen, hoping to contain the mutt's cataclysmic behaviour.

And then he drove out to the district to a furniture store and reluctantly picked out a new couch, paying extra for the privilege of having it delivered the same day and for having them haul his old one off, before driving back home and waiting for them to show.

His therapy application played on his mind all day, that and the fact he really wanted a drink. He didn’t call Tara, not wanting to bother her while they were on a case and just hoping he could stave off his cravings until it was time to pick up Daisy and Lily.

@andiebeaword @measure-in-pain @muffin-cup @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @foxy-eva @kbakery @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth @loonalockley @shamelessfangirl-3 @redbulldinner @derekm24 @pinkiceee-prose @werewolfbansheelove @mindbelova @angelicasworld

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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bellysoupset · 3 months ago

Note

The last 2 fics were so good!!

Considering Wendy will be in town for a few days could you write a fic where Max is the sickie and Wendy as caretaker? Maybe she wants to thank him for helping her, and he’s just not feeling well for some reason reason.

Oh we're gonna OD on Wendy this week. I love love LOVE writing her with Vince and I've been going insane trying to think of a way of having her interact with Max, so now you guys are gonna have to put up with me milking this scenarios sooo much.

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

Excedrin had a really nice side effect of wiping Wendy's memory better than Tequila did. Sure, just like Tequila it left her feeling queasy and a little woozy, but it was better than the shrapnel of pain digging through her eyes or even the memory of the pain.

Despite the memory loss, Wendy knew something had happened. She had been conscious enough during most of Max's rescue, so his participation wasn't lost in the void, just Vince's arrival. And Vin was acting weird.

He was always a touchy person, but something was just... Off.

When Wendy came to be, around 5 AM next day, she realized she had been lying halfway across his lap for all of the night. Vince was still as a statue, but as she let out a groan, all muscles sore and her head swimming, he had woken up immediately. Hands cupping her cheeks and asking over and over if she was alright and, again, it was normal for him to be touchy and caring and loving... But this was just a tad much.

Next day he had to go to work still - how he was functioning after sleeping sitting up most of the night and tending to her, Wendy didn't know - so Wen had spent most of her morning lazing in bed, until lunch time when Vince came back with flowers and food for them both.

"I can't stay, I need to go back to finish my classes, but I didn't want you to have lunch alone," he had explained, while planting the huge bouquet of tulips in her arms and frankly, how was she supposed not to swoon?

He didn't let her get up to grab even a fork and had been doting on her like Wendy was a baby bird with a broken wing. Fluttery kisses all over her face, stamped to her brow, her nose, her cheeks, her lips.

"I'm alright, you know?" Wendy grabbed his face, allowing her fingers to sink in his cheeks to keep him put, "I know migraines are scary, but between me and Luke you're a pro at them. So what's up, hon?"

"Nothing," Vince wrinkled his nose, averting his eyes. He was a shitty liar, she loved that about him, "just worried about you, that's all."

She let it slide, not in the mood to search for any sort of conflict. If Vince wanted to treat her like his little porcelain doll, then so be it.

It wasn't until later that night, when they were cuddled up in bed and Wendy was pressed so close to Vince she could feel every little noise and movement from his body, that he asked, "so you were put on administrative leave? What happened?"

"Went over the limit of hours," Wendy pressed her nose to his collarbone, a kiss to his naked chest and inhaled him, breathing out as all tension left her. Vin was playing with the ends of her hair, his chin pressed to the top of her head and she heard his chuckle rumble deep inside of him.

"Is that even a thing?" He nibbled the top of her ear, teeth grazing it and causing Wendy to squirm as it tickled, "what's the limit?"

"80 hours per week..." she mumbled, trying to muffle the sound of her words. Vince heard her loud and clear though, because he tensed and moved under her, so he could glare at her.

"80?" He moved a hand from her head in order to count on his fingers, "that's... That's nearly twelve hours per day, Wendy. How did you even manage to- how many did you do?"

"Not important," Wendy pouted, moving up on the bed to press herself back against him, planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth, "not important at all."

"They suspended you," Vince scoffed, "it's a little fucking important, Wendy."

"No," she whined, kissing his neck, "not important at all."

It seemed it wasn't only her avoiding conflict, because while she could still hear his thoughts whirling and the answer on the tip of his tongue, Vince only grumbled and squeezed her into a hug.

She had driven over on a Tuesday and wasted all of Wednesday doing nothing in bed and recovering, so it was Thursday when Wendy felt like herself again. She was so happy to be with Vince, that she wasn't even pissed off when she woke up with him moving around in the barely lit bedroom.

"What time is it?" Wendy yawned, rolling on the bed and searching for her phone. Vince, who was in the kitchen area, quietly sipping coffee and watching her sleep, jerked slightly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you-"

"You didn't," Wendy rubbed her eyes, sitting up and studying him from head to toe, "you look so hot."

Her boyfriend grinned, lowering his mug inside the sink and crossing the room to kiss her, lips crashing against hers and pushing Wendy flat on her back, "it's your eyes."

"Uh-hu," Wendy sighed happily, fingers gently drifting over his curls in order to not mess them up. He had clearly been up for at least an hour, because his hair was humid but not wet and the curls were forming into spirals instead of the loose waves she saw after a shower, "mine and everyone else's in town..."

Vince paused, half lying on top of her, his chin resting in the valley between her breasts. He huffed out an amused breath, then caught her eyes, "I'm really sorry I wasn't here sooner when you were sick-"

"Oh, stop it," Wendy rolled her eyes, squirming so she could wrap her legs around his waist, "I said it before, we're fine. I'm fine. It was just a bad migraine and I wasn't even alone-"

"And what if Max hadn't saved you from the side of the road? There's no way you could've called me- And who knows if I would have even picked up mid class," Vince glared at her, "you could've been seriously hurt."

"That's on me for driving on top of a migraine, ho-"

"A migraine you got because you're overworked and exhausted," Vince sighed, moving so he could cup her cheek with a hand, "and you're overworked because you don't want to be home alone-"

"No," Wendy glared at him, shaking her head, "we're not doing this," she shoved his shoulder off of her, "it's too early in the morning for this bullshit."

"It's not bullshit, Wendy, it's your health-"

"No," Wendy cut him off, sharply, "I'm not having this conversation now."

Vince's shoulders dropped in a defeated manner, the pushover that he was, and he nodded, straightening up and pulling her in, in order to kiss the top of her head, "okay, we'll talk about this later."

How about never? Wendy thought bitterly, but leaned against his kiss.

"I'll come back for lunch-" he said thirty minutes later, as Wendy drove him to the school, looking more or less put together and awaken.

"Actually," Wendy started to drive into the school's parking lot, "I was hoping I could have lunch with Max?"

Vince's eyebrows shot up and he stared at her, speechless for a second, before he seemed to come back to himself, "Daniels? Max Daniels?"

"You know any other Max?"

"Do you?" Vince squinted at her and Wendy let out a surprised chuckle.

"Since when you get jealous?" She couldn't help but giggle, "Vince?! What the hell?!"

"I'm not jealous!" He corrected quickly, whole face turning red, "I'm not, I just- You don't even know him..."

"Yeah," Wendy was incredibly endeared by this weird new side of her boyfriend. She carefully kept her voice neutral, "I don't know him, but he did save my ass just two days ago and you wanna bring him to our next cabin trip, don't you?"

Vince looked like he was caught between a rock and a hard place, from the way that he spluttered and frowned, crossing his arms. Wendy pressed her lips together not to laugh and leaned over the handbrake, school parking lot be damned, resting her hand in her boyfriend's inner tight and pressing a kiss to his cheek, "Vin?"

He swore in Italian, a string of cazzo-merda-culo, and then nodded, "I'll let him know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he turned his head to glare at her, "but I don't know if he'll agree, dude's a bit of an antisocial prick."

"Jonah's my best friend," Wendy shrugged, pressing a kiss to his pout, "I can handle him."

"Uhm," Vince pulled back slightly, glaring at her face, "Love you?"

"Is that a question?" Wendy grinned, kissing him harder and Vince melted against her, planting a hand on her nape and pulling her in, so lost in the kiss that they only pulled apart when there was a knock against the car window and Sophia appeared with her nose pressed to the window, making an amused but disgusted face.

"Duty calls," Wendy smiled, bumping her nose with his, "I love you."

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

Max wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to say or do when Vince caught up with him just as his class before lunch started and said, "hey, my girlfriend asked if she can take you out for lunch today."

He had stayed frozen, speechless, for a minute too long because Vince frowned and let out an impatient noise, "so? Can I tell her you're going or not?"

Oh.

"Yeah, uhm, sure, of course," Max tripped over his words, then turned around and walked into the classroom, feeling like it was his best bet if he wanted to keep a scrap of his dignity. For all of the class his thoughts were scrambled, part of him thought he was fucked, that even if Wendy was about to be very nice with him, he had somehow messed his tentative friendship with Vince permanently by being just a tad too nice to his girlfriend. Mostly he was just lost.

Wendy was waiting for him in the parking lot, just outside the car wearing a stiff yellow dress and ridiculous chunky heels that made her look like Polly Pocket, except straight out of a 60s movie. She was wearing her sunglasses and waved when he walked out, causing Max to feel twice as self conscious as he had been before. This just felt weird.

He had a grimace on as he approached her and Wendy removed her glasses, a brilliant smile coloring her face, "hey," she gestured to the car, walking towards the driver's side, "I hope this isn't too weird, I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for me. You had no reason to stop and even less of a reason to stay... Specially after I puked down your shirt," she cringed, cheeks turning red and Max raised his eyebrows.

"I didn't think you'd remember that," he entered the passenger side, "you were pretty out of it."

"I wish I didn't!" Wendy's voice was bright and she slammed her door shut, "I'm really sorry," her fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel, "so where do you wanna eat? As long as it's nearby, because I gotta drop you off or the teenage girls will have my head on a spike."

Max snorted at that, rolling his eyes, "wherever, you're inviting me, you pick the place."

He was probably gonna get indigestion didn't matter where she picked, Max shrugged.

Wendy bit her lip, seeming to be thinking, "I don't know many places around here," she admitted after a beat, "but there's this cute restaurant I saw the other day..."

Max was fidgeting on his seat. This was more awkward than any date he had ever been to. All his dates were awkward to begin with, but at least he could flirt his way into less verbal activities and that didn't actually require him to have any social skills. Besides, he normally wasn't crushing on the boyfriends of the girls he went out with...

Wendy was talkative and she matched Vince's sunny personality to an overwhelming degree, so Max nodded along as she told him why she had picked her sedan instead of other models, how she really dug his aesthetic and how he had quickly become a talking point among her friend group.

"Oh really?" Max frowned, holding out the door of the restaurant for her and following her inside, "I didn't figure Monacelli talked all that much about me."

He tried really hard not to let it go to his head.

Wendy turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling, squinting as if she could read him like a book and he felt his mouth go dry. This was bad, very bad. There was a wisdom beyond her years in her eyes, some secret amusement that made him feel more like she was laughing at him than with him.

"Oh trust me, he brings you up enough," Wendy sat in front of him, scanning the menu in a way that made Max wonder if she had been here before, eyes barely stopping on the words, "he told me you were his middle school bully? How's that?"

"I wasn't his bully," Max pointed out, frowning, "I was a prick, I didn't pick on him specifically. He was just one of the many kids who got on my bad side one of those days."

"So you broke his arm, but it wasn't personal?" Wendy grinned, not looking at him, "alright. Well, I hope you're not a prick anymore."

"So much so that you're taking me out for lunch, ain't you, gorgeous?" he mentally patted his own back as he regained his game. He was not about to let a half foot tall woman chew him up like that.

Wendy glanced over the menu, a smile still hanging in her lips, "I guess so," she gestured to the waiter, "so you guys are friends now, right?"

"Yes," he said it too quickly, frowning, and Wendy nodded, then turned to rattle her order to the waiter. Max hadn't picked anything and he glanced at the menu once more and said the first thing that caught his eye.

"So why biochemistry?"

The question caught him off guard and it took Max a minute to collect his thoughts, "I flunked my last year of high school, don't know if Vin told you that."

"Nope," Wendy leaned forward, elbow resting on the table and watching him intently.

Max cleared his throat, "well, yeah, I did. Bad attendance, grades collapsing at a alarmingly quick speed, I spent most of the year getting high under the bleachers..." he rolled his eyes at his own past self, "so I flunked. Next year, it was rough..."

"Parents?" She guessed and he nodded, glad that he didn't need to draw it for her, like he would've needed to with Vince. The idea that less than stellar parents existed never crossed Monacelli's mind, but Wendy seemed acquainted with it already.

"Yep. They were already divorced, my father lives in the next town over, so suddenly my mom was like, either get your own place or go live with James," he cringed at the memory, the hurt that was still fresh. He had been saving to go live on his own at the time, but being kicked out? In such a dismissive way, even, his mother hadn't been trying to hurt him and they hadn't been in a fight, this was just how the Daniels worked.

"You were eighteen?"

"Yep," Max grimaced, very happy when their orders returned and he could focus on the food instead of Wendy's intense gaze, "I dropped out school, got a job in the gas station," he smiled to himself, "and started studying... And suddenly it was easy, like all the noise ceased."

"Oh wow," Wendy's voice raised a note at the end and Max glanced up, forking a bite of his chicken salad and stuffing his mouth to stop himself from spilling his heart out, "home was the issue?"

He nodded, cheeks still full and Wendy let out a little huff, mimicking his tactic of eating to avoid talking. They chewed in silence, and the she said, "I remember the first night I spent in my own apartment and that I sat down in my couch and I just... Cried. I spent so long romanticizing it and dreaming of it and suddenly it was real and I was so happy, all I could do was cry."

He had done very similar, except his version involved a lot more alcohol. Max offered her a closed lips smile, then looked down, "so I got my GED," he continued, "and I started to get really interested in science, molecules, monosaccharides, how the body worked with hormones and how we were all just electricity... I was obsessed," now his voice got a fond tone and Max continued to eat, "my boss was the one who told me I should apply to the community college."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I was never gonna go to a big university," he rolled his eyes, "and even if I could get in, I certainly couldn't afford it and had already blown my chances to get a scholarship. Community College was the best option, I-" he paused to muffle a burp and then chugged his sparkling water, "I took the exam as a bet, bet fifty with my boss..."

"Oh no," Wendy chuckled, reaching in and grabbing the salt between them, "did you pay your him at least?"

"Her, and yeah," Max shook his head, grinning at the memory, "my mom was always this healthy nutjob. Very interested in being healthy, but all she knew was pseudoscience that she shoved down our throats. It was insane, mind blowing even, to get answers to things I had been asking myself since I was a kid."

Wendy was smiling at him from ear to ear, a cherry tomato poked in the front of her fork, forgotten, "and then teaching?"

"In college they used to grab my notebook to copy my notes," Max was now fully smiling, awkwardness melted away, "they first said it was because my handwriting didn't suck."

"I don't believe that," Wendy snorted, wrinkling her nose much like a bunny, "you look like your handwriting sucks."

"Well, fuck you too," Max poked her hand with his fork, causing her to squeal and pull it back, cheeks flushed as she smiled brilliantly at him, "but yeah, it kinda sucked. Not my schematics though, my drawings and graphs... I was- I am proud of them," he pushed a piece of chicken around, getting it covered in sauce, "so I noticed it was helping them, so around exam season, I'd actually put together a summary of our subjects, started charging for those. Not a lot, just enough to buy weed."

Wendy chuckled and Max took the last bite, "and then next thing I know, I'm having Sunday classes with my college buddies and I'm taking a minor into pedagogy and... It snowballed," he swallowed suddenly, feeling stuffed to gills and glanced down, realizing he had finished up the whole plate, "it's like I blinked and I was being offered to teach at my old high school."

She was staring at him, so Max cleared his throat, bringing up a hand to muffle another burp and mumbling a little, "excuse me- Ate too fast," and more than he had in most of his meals, "so, uhm- What about you? Vince couldn't be more smug about his doctor girl."

Wendy seemed to snap out of her trance, startled, and she reached for her juice, draining the rest of the cup, "I wish my story was half as wholesome as yours," she rolled her eyes, "or as heartwarming as Vin, who knew he wanted to be a teacher since he was ten... No. I wanted to be a fashion major."

Max raised his eyebrows, leaning back on his seat and spreading his legs, hoping it'd help with the heavy feeling in his stomach, "and from fashion to med school...?"

"Fashion was never an option," she scoffed, "I was not kicked out of home and I didn't have a job, I was a spoiled brat from Upper East Side and my parents are doctors... And it was always very clear that they would not even consider paying my college, unless I picked med school as well."

"Shit," Max grimaced, feeling slightly clammy at the thought of being forced into a major, "you didn't even like it?"

"I liked it alright, it just wasn't any fun..." Wendy shrugged, "but then I got to move for college, that part was amazing... The whole time, I was top of my class, I was doing the most, but I didn't fall in love with it, until I got my first patient. Second to last year of college."

He wondered if she hadn't fallen in love with it at all, if she'd still be stuck as a doctor just to appease her family. Felt like a too personal question.

"What happened?" His stomach let out a growl and Max fidgeted, pressing a hand to the lower part of his belly, hoping she couldn't see it.

"I got my first patient and it wasn't... Glamourous. Or pretty," Wendy smiled to herself, "it was in the middle of pandemic, I was hanging by a thread... And suddenly I made a difference. Hell, I made one hell of a difference and all I was doing was standard ER covid testing. Things were chaotic and scary and I wasn't just Wendy Marshall, studying to become a dermatologist and take over my mom's mini empire, I was Dr. Marshall and I was the thing keeping that woman in front of me together..." her eyes shone slightly, voice getting all choked up, "and... yeah. That was it, I was a goner since then."

Max's stomach chose this moment to make itself known, a wave of nausea washing over him and a burp sneaking up quick enough he had no chance of muffling it. His face caught on fire and he ducked his head not to see Wendy's disgusted look. They had been sharing... A moment? And now he felt like he was about to hurl.

"Max?" Wendy's voice was soft and she touched his wrist over the table, "hey, you alright? You just went white..."

"Sorry," he groaned, straightening up and pulling his hand from her hold, "sorry, I'm fine... Uhm, we should head back, I'm gonna end up being late."

"Yeah! Right, of course," Wendy looked spooked and shook her head, "I- I'm gonna get the bill, you wanna go wait by the car..?"

"I can take the bill," his voice was thick with nausea and Wendy had a glassy look to her eyes, a clear tell he had just ruined something. Max felt clammy all over.

"No, I invited you, remember?" Wendy stood up, jumping back when he attempted to take her hand, only for his hand to freeze mid air. What the fuck was he doing anyway?

"I'm gonna wait in the parking lot," Max grumbled, getting up as well. The parking lot was quite empty, peak lunch hour having already passed. He was most definitely gonna be late to his class.

Max leaned against Wendy's car, taking a deep breath and trying to lull his stomach into behaving. He was going to sick, that was for certain, but he hoped he'd at least make it to the end of the school day. Hell, at least out of her eyesight would be great.

Under his hand, his belly let out a growl and another sickly belch rolled past his lips, carrying with it the coleslaw taste. He glanced at the restaurant door, saw Wendy still at the cashier section, chatting with an employee, all smiles and bouncing on her feet.

He turned around, so he could hide by the trunk of the car and stared at the gravel, forcing up a small burp and spitting the thick saliva that was pooling in his mouth. Nope, he wasn't gonna make it until the end of school day...

"Here," Wendy touched his arm and Max nearly jumped out of his skin. He shot her a glare and she only smiled at him, so he glanced down and noticed she was holding a bottle of water, "you're pasty, Daniels."

"Uhmm," he couldn't and shouldn't open his mouth, if he got sick on her cute dress Max was going to pack his bags and move to the middle of nowhere, never to be seen again.

Wendy clearly didn't mind the fact he looked like he was about to revisit the meal they had just shared, because her tiny hand was coming to cup his forehead and his cheek, no permissions asked.

Max groaned, shoving a hand out and pushing her out of the splash zone as he braced forward, hands on his knees and legs spread out, "I'm sorry... Should've told you my gut is a temperamental bitch."

"Like its owner?" Wendy teased him lightly, her hand coming to rest on his back, "it's fine, you're going to be sick?"

He answered her with another burp, this one turning wet, but all that came up was a thin dribble of saliva. Max panted, impatient and humiliated, "can you- Urugh-" he belched in his hand, "go in the car...?"

"I'm a doctor," Wendy's voice came out annoyed, "your stomach might be temperamental, but mine is a strong. Relax."

"Not-" Max coughed and retched once more, another loud, brassy burp sneaking up, "not that. Embarrassing."

"Payback for seeing me at my worst the other day," Wendy patted his back and Max was about to tell her she was implying this was payback for helping, when his stomach churned once more and the next gag was productive. Incredibly productive, projectile vomit falling in the gravel and causing his ears to go deaf.

He hugged his belly, pressing a fist to it and digging in. It was bloated, not to his surprise at all, and let out a sickening sloshy sound when he pressed in- Max coughed up another liquidy stream, then opened his hand flat against his belly and pressed in and up, forcing up a chunkier mouthful of foul stuff.

He was getting nauseous on top of his nausea, disgusted it looked so much like food still- Wendy rubbed his arm, "Max?"

"Uhhhhm," he spat the taste, then finally took the water bottle she was still holding, taking a gulp and swishing it around before spitting it out, "why the fuck did I eat so much, so fast..."

Behind him Wendy let out a little snort, "that wasn't fast or much, you're clearly not acquainted enough with Vin," she squeezed his bicep, "done?"

He nodded, although he felt very far from done. The nausea had reduced considerably, though, still coating his insides in a way that he knew for sure would have him puking later as well. But for now...

Max pressed on his belly once more, forcing up a huge burp and Wendy let out a fucking giggle. Something was very wrong with this girl, he thought, straightening up. What sort of girl giggled when someone was hurling all over the ground?

"You're weird, Marshall," he said lightly, rubbing his face, "let's go back before I get fired for ditching my own lesson."

Wendy's eyes were pure mischief as she nodded, clicking her car keys, "alright... I hope you don't get carsick too."

"Get in and just drive," Max squinted at her, shoving her forward and causing her to laugh. Despite the queasiness and the fact his stomach was flipping and the humiliation causing his cheeks to burn, Max hid a smile of his own.

#this got completely out of hand #none of these characters obey me??#emeto #emetophilia #indigestion #eating too quickly #burpig #eructo #mywriting #max daniels #wendy + Max's pov!

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allthingsfangirl101 · 2 months ago

Text

Worth It – Timothy McGee

My first undercover case was a long one and it's pulled me away from NCIS. I don't have any contact with my team other than a text every three days to Gibbs to let him know I'm okay. He's in my phone as Dad. My cover is that I am an arms dealer selling weapons to a homegrown terrorist group. We are currently hiding out in an abandoned school.

"Texting Daddy, Queen Bee?"

I rolled my eyes at the nickname the terrorist group gave me. "Nope," I said, not looking up from my phone. "I'm texting your daddy. Say 'hi' to your new mommy."

I 'accidentally' kicked his ankle as I walked past him. As I was heading to my "office" or what looks like an old English classroom they let me use, I overheard a conversation I wasn't supposed to hear but I needed to make sure NCIS heard.

"Y/L/N, you're not supposed to be calling unless. . ."

"Gibbs," I cut him off. "They're moving the shipment and their plans have changed."

"What do you mean?"

"They're not selling the guns, Gibbs," I sighed. "They're using them."

"On what?"

"They're not what we thought," I said quickly.

"What do you mean?"

"The terrorist group we had was a fake lead," I sighed.

"They're not a terrorist group," Gibbs figured out.

"Nope," I said, running my fingers through my hair. "But, Gibbs, there is something more important. They're planning an attack on. . ."

"Hey!"

"Who are you talking to?!"

"Y/L/N? What's going on?" I heard Gibbs's voice before my phone was ripped out of my hand. I tried to yell out our panic code but my mouth was covered and I was hit from behind.

McGee's POV

"We got a problem," Gibbs said as he ran into the squad room.

"What's that, boss?" DiNozzo asked.

"Y/N's gone dark."

"Wait, what?" I stuttered.

"She called me," Gibbs started to explain, "said that they weren't selling the guns. They were planning on using them."

"Did she say what their target was?" DiNozzo asked.

"She didn't get the chance," Gibbs sighed.

"Why didn't she get the chance?" I asked.

"I tried calling her back, but no answer. My guess is they turned her phone off."

"Why would they turn her phone off?" I asked, my voice soft.

Gibbs sent us a look before clarifying, "Y/N's cover is blown."

DiNozzo and I didn't wait for Gibbs to order us to grab our gear. We grabbed it and instantly started jogging toward the elevator.

"Where are you two going?!" Gibbs called out after us. We froze and turned around.

"We're going to find Y/N," I said slowly.

"We don't know where she is," Gibbs said like it should've been obvious.

"We have the apartment she's been staying in while she's been undercover," DiNozzo said, neither one of us catching on.

"She told me eight days ago that they were making her stay with them," Gibbs sighed as he sat down. "We have no idea where she is or what they know."

"Or what they'll do to her," DiNozzo mumbled.

"I left that part out for a reason, DiNozzo."

We spent the next twelve hours searching for any lead on where Y/N could be. When we went to her undercover apartment, the group we were investigating had already torn through the place. They were most likely looking for the same thing we were looking for; any notes Y/N had taken about their organization and their plans.

"We got a lead," Gibbs said, leaving Vance's office and jogging down the stairs.

"Great," DiNozzo let out a sigh of relief.

"Do we know where they're keeping Y/N?" I asked.

"We got a tip from Metro that the terrorist group is actually a street gang," Gibbs said as he sat at his desk. "One of the detectives watching the street gang saw Y/N through the window and recognized her. They gave us a call."

"To be honest, I don't really care about metro detectives right now. Where is Y/N?" DiNozzo asked.

"The street gang is known for hiding out in an abandoned school downtown."

We grabbed our gear but Gibbs shook his head.

"Stop."

"Boss," I stuttered. "If we know where Y/N is, we have to go get her."

"We can't leave her with them," DiNozzo added. "If they know she's a federal agent, they'll kill her. The longer we wait, the more we risk. . ."

"I know what we risk!" Gibbs cut us off firmly. "We have orders not to follow the lead."

"But. . ." DiNozzo and I stuttered.

"Metro has been investigating the group for over a year," Gibbs explained. "They've asked us not to get involved."

"But, boss, we have an agent in there," I scoffed.

"And they are aware," Gibbs tried to calm us down. "So far, they haven't moved."

"Which means they haven't moved a body," DiNozzo mumbled.

"Which means Y/N could still be alive," I said under my breath. He and I shared a look.

"Metro plans to go in the first chance they have," Gibbs continued to explain. "They know that Agent Y/L/N is in there."

"She could still get caught in the crossfire."

DiNozzo and Gibbs looked at me, but neither one of them corrected me.

"You're right," Gibbs sighed. "Y/N could still get caught in the crossfire, but Metro has promised me they will look before they shoot."

"And if they don't?" DiNozzo asked.

"They'll have me to deal with."

* * * * *

I sat for an hour thinking about Y/N. Before she went undercover, she admitted to me that she was nervous. I tried to find a way for her to be able to contact me, but she didn't want me to be in danger. The only reassurance I've had the past month was the texts she'd send Gibbs. Whenever he got one, he'd let us know that she was safe.

The idea that Y/N was in the hands of Metro who was more focused on making the collar than protecting our agent bugged me.

"Okay," DiNozzo walked over and lowered his voice. "I can't handle this."

"Me either," I mumbled.

"Then let's go get our girl."

"Tony," I elongated.

"Come on," he whined. "You really want to sit back and do nothing? You trust that Metro will keep our Y/N safe?"

"Of course I don't trust them," I sighed. "But what are we supposed to do?"

"We could go rogue like they do in. . ."

"Do not make a movie reference right now," I cut him off. "Y/N's cover was blown, we think we know where she is, and Metro won't let us go get her back."

"They don't need to know," he whispered.

"They're watching the school, DiNozzo."

"Didn't you use to sneak into your school at night to play pranks on the teachers, probie?"

"No. But I'm guessing you have."

"Just follow my lead."

We left NCIS and headed toward the school. We parked down the street and headed around the back. I followed Tony but we soon ran into some of the gang members.

"Run, probie!" DiNozzo yelled as we started fighting.

"I'm not leaving Y/N!"

"I know! I'll fight, you find her."

I hesitated before turning and running away. I checked every classroom but tucked into a science lab when I heard someone running toward where I was. I stayed hidden in the lab as DC detectives led SWAT toward where DiNozzo was fighting off gang members.

"Tim?" I heard muffled from behind me. I turned around and my heart jumped into my throat. Y/N was tied to a chair, her hands behind her back, and a piece of duck tape covering her mouth. I ran over and instantly started undoing her restraints.

"It's going to be okay," I said as I carefully took off the ducktape.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, her voice soft and rough.

"What does it look like?" I joked. "Saving you."

She watched as I continued untying her wrists and ankles from the chair.

"Metro detectives are watching the place," she said weakly. "There's no way they would let NCIS in here." I looked up at her and sent her a weak smile. "Unless," she sighed, "they don't know you're here."

"They know now."

Y/N and I looked up to see DiNozzo tucking into the room.

"Who all is here?" She started to ask but when I helped her to her feet, her legs gave out. DiNozzo reached for her as I caught her.

DiNozzo stepped forward and each of us took one of her arms. We wrapped her arms around our necks and helped her out of the building.

"Metro is going to kill you guys," Y/N said, her voice soft. DiNozzo and I looked at her before looking at each other. We picked up our pace when we saw how weak Y/N looked. We quickly led her out of the abandoned school.

We froze when we got to where we parked our car. Gibbs was sitting on the hood with Ducky and Palmer waiting by their van.

"If Metro doesn't kill us. . ." DiNozzo started.

"I will," Gibbs finished as he hopped off our car. "But first, Ducky."

"Ducky's going to kill us?" DiNozzo asked.

"No, Anthony," Ducky said as he and Palmer walked over. "I'm going to take a look at our Agent Y/L/N."

Ducky and Palmer took Y/N from us and led her to the back of their van. I kept my eye on her as they looked her over.

"Ducky!" Gibbs yelled. "Take Y/N to NCIS. We'll meet you there."

The ride to NCIS was not what DiNozzo and I were expecting. Gibbs didn't yell at us or berate us for going after Y/N. He didn't say anything to us until we got in the elevator.

"Good work, you two."

We didn't go to the squad room. Instead, we went straight to autopsy. Gibbs asked the question before I could.

"How is she, Duck?"

"A couple of bruises, scrapes, and bumps," Ducky listed off. "A few nights of good rest and some healthy meals and she will be as good as new."

"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs said, slightly lowering his voice. He turned and we watched as Palmer helped Y/N off the autopsy table. The second she was on her feet, Gibbs walked over to her. "How are you feeling, Y/L/N?" He asked her.

"Tired," she shrugged. "Sorry, boss."

"For what?"

"For not maintaining my cover," Y/N sighed. She ran her fingers through her hair but gasped in pain. Gibbs grabbed her hand and moved it. He checked her head and turned toward Ducky right as Ducky was handing Gibbs an ice pack. Gibbs pressed it gently to Y/N's forehead.

"You didn't blow your cover, Y/L/N," Gibbs told her with his hand still holding the ice pack to her forehead. "Metro blew your cover."

"But. . ." Y/N stuttered.

"No buts." Gibbs smacked the back of DiNozzo's head when he laughed. "McGee, take her home and Y/N, don't come back for a week."

Gibbs moved the ice pack and kissed her forehead. "Get some rest," he whispered. "Good work."

"Thanks, boss," she smiled weakly. She laughed when I wrapped my arm around her waist. "I can walk, McGee."

"Don't care, Y/L/N. Boss told me to get you home."

"That I did, McGee." Gibbs let out a small laugh as I escorted Y/N to the elevator.

"And I am never letting you out of my sight again," I whispered as I helped her into the elevator. When the doors closed, Y/N looked up at me but didn't pull away.

"Metro could have shot you, McGee," she said. She sighed as she added, "Or tore you a new one. Why did you and DiNozzo risk getting in trouble with Metro and Gibbs?"

"I thought it would be obvious," I teased her. She looked at me and waited for me to explain. I smiled as I clarified, "It should be obvious why we'd risk it. We came after you because you're worth it, Y/N."

She laughed and rolled her eyes before leaning her head against my chest.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue, Tim," Y/N whispered as her eyes fluttered closed.

"I'll always come to your rescue, Y/N. No matter what."

#timothy mcgee imagines #timothy mcgee imagine #timothy mcgee x reader #NCIS #NCIS imagines #NCIS fanfic

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bitletsanddrabbles · 11 days ago

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[Fic] The Glory, the Shame

This is what happens when I try to come up with something to write at 7:00 am on Veteran's Day - you get Thomas and Peter sitting on @alex51324 's Island of the Gays philosophizing.

Not certain I'm going to include this one in the Island Sandbox, since it is now about twelve hours after I started, I am tired, and not at all certain it hits the right notes. But it's a thing and I wrote it, so here. Can be read as pre-relationship or just buddies, as you so feel moved.

Needless to say it is beta free. Also free of guppies, goldfish, loches, koi...okay, I'm going stop now before someone hurls a salmon at my head. On to the story instead.

Thomas sat on the bluff outside of town, a cigarette dangling in his fingers, watching the seagulls. A stiff wind was blowing, making his cheeks sting, but at least it wasn’t raining. Most of the village had decamped to the pub, intent on reducing Tully’s whisky supply to dregs. Thomas had thought about joining them, but his heart wasn’t quite in it.

A crunching noise alerted him to the fact he was about to have company. He looked up, half expecting it to be the herd of cattle they let roam the island south of the village, but it turned out to be Peter Fitzroy.

“Mind if I join you?” the one armed man asked.

“Sure,” Thomas replied. “The ground’s none too soft, though.”

“Probably better that way. Easier to dust off after.” Peter lowered himself to the ground with his usual easy cheer. “I take it the pub was a bit crowded for you?”

“Yeah.” Thomas took a drag off his cigarette. “Don’t get me wrong, I could use a pint or two about now. Maybe three or four, but there wasn’t even standing room in there.”

“I know what you mean.” Peter pulled out his own cigarettes and worked one out of the case. Even though he was perfectly capable of lighting it himself, Thomas lite it for him. Less hassle that way. For a minute the two of them just sat and smoked. Finally Peter said, “I thought it was a lovely service.”

“Yeah,” Thomas agreed. It touched on all of the key points without being soppy or condescending. Father Tim did a good job.” That was one problem with people who hadn’t actually been in the war. They could easily make it sound like they had been, like they knew exactly what the soldiers had been through when it was very clear they didn’t. It tended to lead to lofty proclamations about bravery and sacrifice that stank like the mud of the Somme, or sneering dismissal of the misery that had lead to missing limbs and haunting nightmares. Admittedly, Thomas had as little patience for the nightmares as the next person, but mostly because they interrupted his sleep and he did not like being woken up, thank you very much. He understood, but…well. His nightmares never disturbed anyone except himself.

“What did you think of the suggestion that we build our own war memorial, like villages are doing on the mainland?”

Thomas frowned at that one. “I’m not entirely certain. I wouldn’t fight it, of course. But I don’t know that it would help me any.”

The other man gave him a curious look at that. “Isn’t there anyone who’s gone that you want remembered?”

“Maybe.” Thomas took a slow drag and thought for a second before blowing out a long stream of smoke. There was Lord Flintshire’s valet, and a couple of other servants who had visited Downton frequently, but they’d been friends, not lovers. He didn’t know if anyone here would even know them. “I’m the one who didn’t know anyone in London, remember? Yeah, there were blokes I had it off with now and again, but never more than a couple of times. The people I’d really care about, well. They weren’t our sort. Seems a bit pointless to put them on there.”

“Hm. I suppose.” The other man allowed. “Then again, there are those of us who would want brothers on there, so I don’t know that it would have to be just our sort.”

“I still don’t know if any of my brothers made it through,” Thomas admitted. “I might be the last one standing.” He tried not to look at his gloved hand, but his eyes flickered to it involuntarily as he stretched his fingers.

Thankfully, the other man didn’t seem to notice. “Is there anyone you could write to find out? Or do you not want to?”

Thomas shrugged. “My sister, perhaps, if she’d write back to me. I don’t know that I’d bother, though. They might as well all be dead, as much as we pay attention to each other. Again, I don’t see that there’s anything to be gained by knowing.”

“That’s fair, I suppose.” The two of them lapsed into silence for a bit. Again, it was Peter who broke the silence. “What do you suppose Kit’s doing?”

“He planned on spending the day working on play bills for the theatre’s next production,” Thomas replied. “If he finishes that, he’ll probably read or something like that, I’d imagine. I’ve told him not to feel poorly about it, that he was well out of it, but. Well. No one likes to feel like they didn’t do their bit.”

“If they were clever they would.” Peter frowned, the expression out of place on his normally cheerful face. “I keep trying to tell Davy Hall that no one’s looking down on him for not serving, but you can tell he doesn’t believe it.”

“Davy?” Thomas looked askance at the other man. “You’re joking.” The other man shook his head. Thomas blinked, trying to wrap his head around it. “The man had rheumatic fever as a boy. The doctors expect him to drop dead of a hear attack or have his kidneys give out any day now, and he’s bemoaning the fact that he failed his physical and they wouldn’t let him go get shot at because his health might give out before the Germans got him?”

Peter gave a rueful sort of smile and a one sided shrug. “Apparently his brothers both died, so he really is the last one standing. And he’s here, so it’s not as if the line is going to continue. I think he feels as if, had he gone, one of his brothers might have survived.”

Thomas was aware of that sort of thinking, but he couldn’t imagine feeling that way about anything. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, even if I was expected to die young, I can not imagine feeling that suicidal.”

The comment earned him a sideways look that couldn’t decide whether to be fond or exasperated. “No, I can’t imagine you could. You’re too determined to live.”

His cigarette half way to his lips, Thomas froze. He slowly turned to look at the other man, gauging whether that comment had meant what he thought it did. When Peter lifted his eyebrows and shot a look at Thomas’s glove, that was a pretty clear answer. “Figured it out, have you?” Thomas replied, smiling tightly, trying to make a joke of it. He supposed if the other man was going to get him kicked off of the island, he’d have done it by now, and he didn’t seem like the sort for blackmail.

“Yeah.” Peter turned and crushed out his cigarette. “Several of us have. Me, Tully, Jessop, Rouse.”

“Dr R knows?” Thomas cringed. Oh, that couldn’t be good.

“He does.” The other man gave him a wan smile. “He doesn’t blame you, though. None of us do. If you get right down to it, you were the clever one, getting out of there rather than waiting for the Huns to drop a shell on your head.” He nodded to the glove and added, “Not to mention you could easily have died of infection. Difficult to call someone a coward when they’re doing something they know full well could kill them.”

“I wasn’t really thinking about that at the time,” Thomas admitted. It probably wasn’t the wisest thing he could do, but if Peter didn’t think poorly of him already, he doubted the truth would change that too much. “I just, I’d had it. I’d signed up to help save them that could be saved, not to die for a country that would just as soon kill me themselves. Or lock me away for two years and then let someone beat me to death when I got out, which is close enough.” He crushed out his own cigarette, then, after a moment’s thought, went to get another.

Peter shrugged. “You’re not wrong. And I still don’t blame you.” His eyebrows knit together and he asked, curiously, “Although, if I might ask, how did you manage it? It’s a difficult shot to manage yourself.”

“I didn’t manage it myself.” Thomas tucked his lighter away and blew smoke into the air. He would never understand how some people managed not to smoke. What did they do for their nerves? “I took myself out to a nice, quiet corner of the trench, lit m’self a cigarette, and then held my hand up over the wall. A German sniper took care of the rest for me.”

Oddly, that garnered a smile from the other man. “Well, that was nice of him. Did you send him a thank you note?”

“No,” Thomas scoffed, shaking his head. “I wasn’t exactly in any condition for it. Too much morphine. Who knows? By the time I was thinking clearly again, he was probably dead anyway.”

“Probably.”

They were quiet again, for a stretch. This time Thomas broke it. “How long have you known?”

“Several months now. We put it together about the time Gordon ran off.”

“Blimey.” Thomas blinked at that. “And it took this long for any of you to say something?”

Peter shrugged. “It didn’t seem important, really. After all, who decided it was cowardice? And who decided that cowardice was something to die over? A bunch of men who never left England, except on holiday? The men who wished they had the guts to do something like that?” He looked down at his own shoulder. “I may not have invited a German sniper to have a shot at me, but I wasn’t exactly crying when they told me I couldn’t carry a stretcher anymore.”

“I should think not.”

“We did our bit. Then we went home. It’s what we said we’d do.”

“Too right.”

“We’re just lucky we made it.” Peter gave a salute to the clouds. “To the Glorious Dead.”

“And the Inglorious Living,” Thomas added, giving his own salute.

The other man leaned in, resting the stump of his shoulder against Thomas’s. “Glorious or not, I’m just as glad to have you hear instead of lying under poppies in France.”

“Thanks.” Thomas smiled and looped an arm around the other mans’ back to help them both stabilise. “I could say the same.”

#downton abbey #thomas barrow #downton abbey fanfiction #writing #fanfiction #island of the gays #peter fitzroy #veteran's day #wwi

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iwriteasfotini · 3 months ago

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August Full Moony Excerpt

I am so excited to share this story with everyone. Waiting is SO hard. In celebration of the full moon tonight, here is a Remus centric short excerpt from The Heir and The Spare, Chapter IX - Birthday and Worst Day. This year is written fully from Sirius’ POV. I present to you budding Wolfstar. :)

...

An hour later Sirius had a stomach full of sugar and chocolate and lay happily in his bed, thinking this was hands down the best birthday he had ever had. And he was now twelve years old. Next year he would be thirteen! He wished Regulus could have been a part of the evening escapade. He was sure Regulus would have enjoyed it. He hadn’t even sent Sirius a note, though Sirius knew this was likely not Regulus’ fault and his mother was most definitely responsible for the lack of birthday greetings.

“Sirius?”

Sirius twitched violently, “woah, you scared me!” He pulled his curtains back and made out Remus’ silhouette in the dark room.

“Um, I am really really, like really embarrassed…” Remus began.

Oh no, thought Sirius, this is going to be about what happened earlier.

“And I know it’s your birthday but would-you-mind-doing-that-thing-you-did-for-me-that-one-time.” Remus said this last bit very fast and then hung his head.

“Um,” it took Sirius a beat to catch up in his chocolate induced lethargy. “Oh, you mean…” And his voice trailed off. What was he supposed to say? The time when I cuddled you to sleep and stroked your hair and told you a story to help you feel less sad and alone because that is what I know how to do for people because it is what my little brother needs from me?

Instead Sirius sat up and swung his legs out of bed.

“You don’t have to if it’s…”

“Yes, Remus, yes.”

They padded across the bedroom together and got into Remus’ bed. Sirius got situated, and Remus got comfortable in his arms. As Remus let out a contented sigh and Sirius ran his fingers through his curly hair, an unbidden thought crossed his mind. His best ever birthday had just gotten even better. Sirius smiled to himself in the darkness and then he began.

“A long time ago, in a far-off land, there lived a foolish King who decided that he alone should have the power of magic…”

...

Check out more about the series in my pinned post. I post a writing update every week and daily posting of The Heir and The Spare will begin on AO3 on October 31!

#marauders #fanfic #marauders era #sirius black #harry potter #remus lupin #first years #our love is written in the stars #wolfstar #sirius black loves remus lupin #sirius x remus

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roseharpermaxwell · 11 months ago

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RWRB FirstPrince Everything Else Fic Recs

These are some canon divergence, some sad things, unique things. Click below to see the favorites I couldn't fit anywhere else, but needed to share.

Can't Help Falling by beck17. G, 1.2k. “Since New Years?”

Henry asks the question so quietly, Alex almost didn’t hear it.

An idea sparked from the subtle look Henry gave Alex after the latter told Zahra their relationship had been going on since New Years.

We're all the way up by @clottedcreamfudge. T, 1.4k. "Just making sure you don't try to run the moment I bring up a very specific topic," Pez says lightly, hopping up onto a low table and swinging his legs like a child.

"The topic of me loosening up and attempting to have a good time at a party?" Henry asks blandly, and Pez rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically.

"The topic of you quite clearly sneaking off with dearest Alexander, presumably to do things I must immediately hear about in excruciating detail. Spare no expense in the retelling; I want to feel it."

I can't breathe, if you're not there by softcinnamonroll. T, 2k. One moment, Alex was laughing at some joke Henry had made, and then the next there was a loud noise from the TV and the livestream cut out, leaving Alex alone in their dark living room. At first, Alex was sure there had just been a power cut, or some technical difficulties that caused the stream to cut out, but then the messages and BREAKING NEWS notifications started pouring in.

BREAKING NEWS: Explosion at Prince Henry of Wales Charity Event. Casualties Unknown.

You Must Allow Me To Tell You by @everwitch-magiks. T, 2.4k. “I don’t suppose there's any chance you’d like to marry me, Alex?”

Alex blinks. Then he starts to grin. “Right. Funny. What were you actually gonna say?”

“... I wasn’t making a joke.”

Alex waits for a beat — there’s gotta be a punchline here somewhere — but it doesn’t come. Henry is still watching him expectantly. He looks terrifyingly sincere.

“You’re actually serious?”

“Yes.”

“You’re proposing to me?”

“I am, yes.”

“But you don’t even know me.”

“Astute observation.” Henry tilts his head to the side. “I can’t help but notice that you have yet to decline?”

Henry has a proposal. Alex has trouble remembering why he shouldn't accept.

It's Always One Step Forward, And Three Steps Back. by @alxclightwood. G, 2.8k. He was fine, he didn’t need to sleep.

He blinked several times, desperately trying to force his eyes open. But it was inevitable that there would come a time his eyes drifted closed, and didn’t open again.

What he didn’t anticipate however, was his blood sugars dropping whilst he slept, with no alarm to wake him to fix it.

you took the time to memorize me (my fears, my hopes, my dreams) by @coffeecatsme. T, 2.9k. “I know what you’re doing.”

Alex crosses his arms, arching his brow. Henry, to his credit, looks completely unimpressed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” Alex wets his lips, enjoying Henry’s eyes following the movement, and lets a smile take over his face. He takes a step, closer to Henry, practically trapping him in front of the little coffeeshop.

“The ice skating,” Alex continues, taking another step, and he’s pretty much flush with Henry’s chest. Even though Henry tries to keep an impassive look, his eyes are glimmering under the afternoon light—he knows damn well what Alex is talking about. “The fire station. Indoor fucking skydiving.” He pokes Henry in the chest and grins. “You’re making my childhood dreams come true.”

Or, 4 times Henry makes Alex's childhood dreams come true, and 1 time he has to get creative.

Do we still have forever? by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf. M, 3k. Alex has a sudden, serious allergic reaction, and Henry can't help but think about losing him.

Powerless by floatingaway4. T, 3k. “Do you know what I’ve had to put up with in the last twelve hours?”

Henry wants to point out that in that same twelve hours he’s had his body sliced open and an organ removed, but this doesn’t seem to be the time. He also got to sleep through his experience, while Alex was very much awake while dealing with Henry’s family. And Henry got the nice drugs, while Alex looks like he could use a drink.

hell was the journey but it brought me heaven by alec_rhee. E, 3.1k. While he was sitting in class and daydreaming about getting Henry naked the moment he got home, his phone vibrated wildly in his messenger bag. He heard the vibrations in class, and although his heart yearned for it to be Henry he knew it wouldn’t be him because his day was filled with meeting after meeting; the texts are most likely from Bug and Nora, he remembers thinking.

And well, he isn’t wrong. There are texts from June and Nora and none from Henry, but it’s the Google Alert –

BREAKING NEWS: PRINCE HENRY, BOYFRIEND OF FSOTUS ALEX CLAREMONT-DIAZ AND PRINCE OF WALES, INJURED IN CAR ACCIDENT

He reads the title of the article over and over and over again. He rubs his eyes and reads the title another three times.

This can’t be about my Henry, he thinks.

What I Need Tonight by @sparklepocalypse. E, 3.5k. It’s two in the morning on a Tuesday when the clatter of something hitting the bathroom floor startles Henry awake. At first, his groggy mind assumes it’s Alex – but then Alex snuffles in his sleep behind him and tightens his arms around Henry’s waist.

There’s another clatter, and then a shuffling noise, and Henry’s eyes widen. He reaches back and grabs Alex’s thigh, shaking him.

someday by rizcriz. T, 4k. “Where are you going?”

Henry freezes where he’s standing over his overnight bag, fingers still clasped around the tug on the zipper. His eyes slide closed of their own accord, dread pooling low in his gut. This was not how this was supposed to go. Alex is a deep sleeper, he should’ve been out the door and on a plane back to London long before he ever woke up. Not just for Henry’s sake, but for both of theirs.

This was not a conversation Henry wanted to have.

Or, Alex wakes up before Henry can sneak out.

i give you my heart (just to watch you waste it) by @villiageidiot. T, 4k. Henry moves to the U.S. when he’s ten years old. The very first time Alex finds him being picked on by some older students for sounding funny, everything changes. Alex shoves them to the ground, earns a detention, and becomes Henry’s best friend all in one fell swoop.

Well, they’re friends for Alex’s part.

For Henry, it’s always so much more.

(Five times fic wherein Alex never chooses Henry. Until he does.)

don't go where i can't follow by coffeecatsme. T, 4k. Henry turns away, hair silvery under the moonlight. He doesn’t even bother to look at Alex, and something like anger flashes in Alex’s gut when he sees him reach for his backpack, like it’s that easy to abandon Alex, like Alex didn’t bare his heart to him just a day ago. “You could’ve fucking said goodbye,” he whispers before he can think about it; his voice is quiet through the knot in his throat, yet it echoes in the room like a gunshot, stopping Henry in his tracks.

Alex wakes up at the lakehouse before Henry leaves.

All The Stars In The Sky by @absoluteaudacitywrites. T, 4k. Henry startles awake, blinking rapidly into the early morning gloom seeping into their bedroom and wondering hazily what woke him when two things become apparent.

One, Alex isn’t in bed with him.

Two, the sound coming from the bathroom is definitely what woke him and it is definitely Alex being quite violently sick.

you were more than just a short time by @hypnostheory. T, 4.2k. Alex leaves his mug on the porch railing. Inside the house is achingly hollow, an exhale with no inhale to follow. Alex feels like he can’t make a noise as he carefully pads back towards their bedroom. He pauses at their door, taking a steadying breath. He’s not as upset as he thought he’d be about this, having mentally prepared as the years ticked by and David grew older. Alex is okay.

Henry isn’t.

David the Beagle passes. Alex is there for Henry through his grief, and through the start of moving on

Tumbled Down and Tangled Up by @myheartalivewrites. E, 4.3k. “Yes, this is exactly how I always dreamed it would be. Locked in a cupboard with your elbow inside my rib cage,” Henry snipes. He sounds like he wants to punch Alex, which is probably the most Alex has ever liked him, so he follows an impulse and drives his elbow into Henry’s side, hard.

Henry lets out a muffled yelp, and the next thing Alex knows, he’s been yanked sideways by his shirt and Henry is halfway on top of him, pinning him down with one thigh. His head throbs where he’s clocked it against the linoleum floor, but he can feel his lips split into a smile.

nobody panic, but i've broken my leg by annesbonny. T, 5.2k. He collects his phone from Cash who's been holding onto his possessions, and shoots off a text to the group chat between pained breaths. nobody panic, but i’ve broken my leg. Then he slips it away again before he can read June's outraged response.

In which Alex Claremont Diaz breaks his leg at a charity Lacrosse game.

Ghosts by colorfulmoniker. M, 5.4k. After Henry leaves the lake house, Alex does not go after him. He doesn't storm Kensington in a fit of pique to call Henry an "obtuse fucking asshole." Instead, the pair spend nearly a year apart, both wrecked and miserable, until they find themselves on the list of speakers for an international conference.

baby, you were meant to follow me. by @chaa-kiao. T, 5.6k. “He doesn’t—” his breath hitches helplessly at the thought. “He doesn’t love me, June.” And, God, he’s fucking crying again.

The storm in his head rages on, his stomach sinking like a ship in its tide. Maybe Henry is exactly who Alex believes him to be: good and honest and true; maybe he’s perfect in every way Alex knows that he is and simply, plainly, doesn’t want him.

That's the worst possible answer to the questions that have become his entire being today. It sends another set of sobs hurling past his lips. The idea that all of this was real, Henry just doesn’t care that much, is sickening— debilitating— Alex doesn’t know how to face it.

Or: Henry and Alex never defined their relationship. Angst ensues.

simply, don't by rizcriz. T, 5.7k. The first voicemail notification sits in Henry’s inbox when he lands in London. He stares at it for a long while before quietly dismissing it and shoving his phone unceremoniously into his pocket. His phone feels like lead in his pocket the entire ride back to the palace, fingers itching to pull it out and just listen. But he’s stronger than that, isn’t he? He left, he got on the plane, he made it home without once looking back.

He had, though, contemplated the many steps it would take to turn around. Wondered if he could make it back with enough time to climb back into Alex’s bed and pretend none of this nightmare—the confession of love—had ever happened. But for every step he envisions himself taking back, three more lead him straight to Kensington Palace, because for whatever it is that he wants, there is only what he can have, and it is not a life with one Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz.

Or, Henry actually answers one of Alex's calls.

think I know where you belong (think I know it's with me) by coffeecatsme. T, 5.8k. “You got me a flower?” Henry gingerly uncurls Alex’s fingers and looks at it. Alex gulps and manages a nod.

“I know it’s not much—” he tries to say, but then Henry’s grinning and Alex quite forgets why he was so worried about in the first place. He finds himself mirroring the smile. “You like it?”

“I love it.”

Or, 5 times Alex is in love with Henry and 1 time Henry loves him back.

After Everything, I Must Confess I Need You by @mainstreamelectricalparade. T, 5.8k. “Fuck,” he gasps, tears springing to his eyes and mixing with the rainwater on his face. He’s not sure if the tears are from the asphalt biting into his palms, or if it’s a release of the emotions he’s been trying to shove down deep ever since he woke up to an empty top bunk at the lake house.

Wait. Asphalt.

Over the pounding rain, Alex hears the shrill sound of a horn honking, and looks up just in time to be blinded by a pair of headlights coming straight at him.

When Alex dares Henry to tell him to leave, Henry actually does. Neither of them could have predicted what happens next.

dearthisbe by @dani-dabbles. G, 6.6k. “If someone in this room had told me before the Queen,” he grits out, “then maybe I wouldn't be completely cut off from my boyfriend right now.”

Alex glowers at his mother and ignores the cowed looks of the various staffers lining the Oval Office. Two days of no contact. Not even a carrier pigeon - or a swan since the queen apparently has them all at their disposal - has been sent their way.

OR: the email plot is discovered before it can be leaked, the palace doesn’t handle the news of their relationship well, and Henry and Alex are left trying to find their way back to each other.

come and get me by rizcriz. T, 6.9k. The email arrives 8 days after Henry left the lake house. He contemplates deleting it without reading, but it sits in his Alex inbox, where there are over seventy emails favourited, and somehow it feels wrong and weirdly impersonal.

As if leaving without a note were any different.

He stares at the from line with an aching longing that seeps into his veins. It settles on his heart like a tangible thing; something warranted and cruel that casts shackles around the aorta and locks them tight so that he might never love again.

or, alex sends an email instead of flying to KP.

I'd Wanna Be Felled by You, Held by You by Anonymous. E, 7k. Henry has been hiding his second gender since Alex moved into his apartment three years ago. When Alex accidentally triggers Henry's first heat in years, Henry asks Alex to cuddle him through it.

everything's growing in our garden by matherine. T, 7.2k. That night, in the safety of his hotel room on the outskirts of the Olympic Village, Henry couldn’t catch his breath. He coughed and coughed, feeling like he was choking on nothing, but there was a scratching sensation in his throat that he just couldn’t shake – until a single blue petal flew past his lips, landing in the porcelain bowl of the sink.

After an hour of painstaking Googling, he learns that it’s a Texas bluebonnet. He also learns what the fact that he’s coughing up petals means – the beginning stages of Hanahaki Disease. Rare, but not unheard of, according to the NHS website he browses in an incognito tab. Common in royal bloodlines (thank you, inbreeding).

"Only curable if the afflicted’s love is requited with a declaration," he reads, and slams his laptop closed with a bitter laugh, wet with tears. "A surgical procedure removing the afflicted’s capacity for love may be performed if the love remains unrequited. Otherwise, the condition is terminal."

So, then. He has no chance.

you're on your own, kid (yeah you can face this) by coffeecatsme. T, 7.2k. “Let’s get it over with.” Henry attempts to move, but Shaan stops him with a hand over his arm, concern flickering in his eyes.

“Are you okay, Henry?” he asks, so silently that the PPOs wouldn’t even be able to hear it. Henry doesn’t even blink. He doubts that word exists in his vocabulary anymore—he doubts it’s in the cards for him. But he knows the script.

He forces a smile on his face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Or, 5 times Henry feels alone in the world, and 1 time he realizes he isn't.

every version of you (i love) by coffeecatsme. M, 7.6k. “So,” the voice narrates as the man squishes the dog’s cheeks and laughs at himself. “There’s this guy that lives next to me with the cutest beagle in the world and this little guy climbs to the fence every day to drop his toys off at, like, 5:30 on the dot, I’m not kidding.” The camera shows the man boop the dog’s nose and press a little kiss to his forehead. There’s a ball in his hands that he hands to the dog, but it slips from his mouth all over again, making the man reach down to grab it. He glares at the dog, but even then he’s still smiling. “And this guy always walks by and picks up the stuff and it’s the cutest fucking thing ever you have no idea.” The camera zooms in farther into the man’s smile, genuine and wild, as he pushes his wild curls away from his face. His eyes flicker up when another figure walks into the frame, his blonde hair falling over his forehead in waves. The man’s smile, impossibly, widens.

“Oh. I’m also pretty sure he has a crush on my neighbor.”

Or, 5 times David greets Alex with something that belongs to Henry, and 1 time he greets Alex with something that belongs to both of them.

I'm Fine With My Spite and My Tears (and my beer and my candles) by Megg1223. E, 7.7k. Henry leaves Alex at the lake house, but Alex doesn't storm Kensington. What happens when they see each other after three months? With the election right around the corner can Alex keep it together enough not to cause another international incident? Alex just needs to get through the night and then he can forget about the boy who broke his heart, but he's finding it increasingly difficult as the night goes on.

Downburst by @cricketnationrise. E, 8.5k. Amy’s sudden shout of alarm cuts off whatever Zahra was going to say. Alex stares at Amy, uncomprehendingly. His heart is racing, his body already flooding with instinctive fear, brain scrambling to catch up, to process what she said—

Cash is at his side between one blink and the next, practically tackling him to the ground and oh—

That’s a gunshot.

in the shadow of two gunmen by matherine. M, 8.6k. There are over four hundred and thirty-three million guns in civilian possession in the United States. Alex isn’t sure where on the campaign trail that fact embedded itself into his brain — he thinks he picked it up from some memo between Minnesota and Missouri — but he’s never been able to forget it. It's one of those things he turns over and over in his head, running the numbers as if he could calculate the possibility of a bullet embedding itself in his brain.

In the end, Alex thinks that it evens out. More people want to kill him than the average person (and that number has grown exponentially over the years) but now he also has Secret Service protection and can’t go anywhere without a motorcade. So, really, statistically, he figures that he has just as much of a chance of being shot by one of those 433 million firearms as anyone else, give or take a few decimal points here and there. But doing the math doesn’t make it any less terrifying when it actually happens.

Locked In by @three-drink-amy. M, 9.2k. After their night together in Paris, Henry and Alex get quarantined in their hotel, locked in for two full weeks.

Henry's Cold, Empty Tower by @dracowillhearaboutthis. G, 9.6k. “I want you,” Henry said, slowly but clearly, “to leave.”

When Alex storms Kensington Palace, Henry sends him away. Then, their relationship gets leaked, and it's Henry's turn to fight for Alex.

There's Something Missing in My Heart by allmylovesatonce. M, 9.8k. When Alex goes to London to tell him he loves him, Henry sends him away. How do both of them react to being without each other and what happens when their emails are still leaked?

So I Will Weather the Storm by Mags (sparklepocalypse). E, 9.8k. They’re in the air twenty minutes before the next report comes in, this time over their headsets. “Patient is located on the eastern side of Sgòr Gaoith. He reports a sudden snow squall came up, and he lost his footing and took a fall. He’s conscious and reports no major injuries, but he’s stuck on a ledge and can’t make it back to the trail. Patient is wearing a red jacket and a black knit cap and states his name is – ” there’s a burst of static over the radio.

“Please repeat the patient’s name,” Henry says into the headset mic as Schlosser programs the mountain’s location into the GPS.

There’s a bit more static, and then the dispatcher states, “Alexander Claremont-Diaz.”

(Or, a movieverse canon divergent AU wherein Henry is in the RAF and Cakegate still takes place, but the PR campaign doesn't happen – and two months after Cakegate, Alex does something dumb on a mountain in Scotland.)

a series of non-disclosure dilemmas series by everwitch. E, 10k. It takes a bit of time, before they manage to find the right person – a guy they’re both into, who is into what they’re into, and who is willing to sign a massive NDA even before they’ve made it to the bedroom. But once they do? It’s good. It’s so, so good. Still, nothing lasts forever, and when Theodore’s career takes him across the pond, Alex and Henry must consider whether or not they should start searching for someone else. Except in the end, they don’t have to search at all – Kenji is equal parts a surprise, and an absolute delight.

But the biggest surprise of all is the fact that, somewhere between a lot of really fun sex and some lazy, post-coital Star Wars banter, Alex and Henry end up with a matchmaking scheme that could certainly rival any cinematic drama. Theo, and Kenji. So different, but so well suited.

But how to get them together?

(did my love aid and abet you?) by alasse. T, 11k. That night in Kensington Palace, Henry told Alex to leave. Eleven years later, Alex watches on the news as Henry comes out, and abdicates. A story of what came before, and what comes after.

i vowed i would always be yours ('cause we survived the great war) by coffeecatsme. T, 12k. Mary Mountchristen-Windsor dies on June 5th, 2020, on a Tuesday morning, after an unexpected heart attack takes her before she’s rushed to a hospital.

Alex Claremont-Diaz hates Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor. It's a fact, written in stone, deep enough that nothing, he believes, can sand it off. Until he bumps into the prince at his grandmother's funeral and sees a different side of him.

Or, 5 times Alex and Henry have to hide themselves and 1 time they don't have to.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words by TintedMirrors. E, 12k. "It’s not an innocent picture. It’s anything but. Henry is lying on his back in the wet sand of the beach, body completely bare and naked in a way that should have only been for Alex’s eyes, and Alex is lying on top of him. Alex’s still wearing his swim trunks, but he’s cradled in Henry’s thighs, his body blanketing Henry’s as he kisses him deeply. His arm is caught between them and Alex remembers exactly what he was doing. In the picture, there’s a peek of his fingers at the bottom of Henry’s thighs, and while it doesn’t show Henry’s cock or asshole, it’s clear where Alex’s fingers are.

Inside of Henry."

A picture of a private moment between Alex and Henry is taken while they're on vacation, which leads to a media frenzy.

Alex can't stop looking at it...

A Parent's Love by herebecauseimqueer. NR, 13k. An exploration of who Henry would be and how the events of RWRB would be different if Arthur never got sick.

Once I get a taste by clottedcreamfudge. E, 16k. “Please,” Alex begs, on fire with a clawing desperate need. “Fuck, please, I’ll do anything. Henry.”

Henry, entire body rigid with tension, slowly shakes his head. Alex sees his mouth – red from where Alex has been kissing him, biting him, well on his way to eating Henry alive – form the word no, even though he can’t hear it past the blood rushing in his ears.

Then Henry turns and leaves, and Alex digs his fingers into the cheap plywood of his own desk as he tries desperately not to fall to the floor.

Which is not, as it turns out, where this story starts.

A Heart Even More Your Own. by chaa_kiao. T, 16k. “Guess you’ll be writing those poems after all.” He swallows. "I should go."

Henry’s mind— every part of him, really— his heart, his body, his fucking soul— is screaming at him to take it all back. To hell with the monarchy, the American presidency, damn it all. This is the man he’s spent his entire life loving and he’s throwing it away for a legacy he doesn’t give a single fuck about. He forces out a rough “I think so,” but he can’t hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“I love you.”

“Alex—”

“I know,” Alex says. “I just had to say it.”

Or: Alex and Henry getting back together takes a little bit longer this time.

Growth Is Uncomfortable (Because You've Never Been Here Before) by Jaistiel. M, 17k. "He said if I wanted to help, they would be instrumental in understanding how." Henry outright laughed at this. It was a hollow, joyless sound, and Philip, to his credit, merely looked chastised instead of angry.

"Do you? Want to help, that is." Henry narrowed his eyes and scrutinized the emotion written on Philip's face. He had never been easy to read, always hidden behind the stuffy upper class posture of a royal, but now it seemed that some of that wall built around him had slipped away.

"Yes." He didn't expand on his answer, didn't fill the room with platitudes and meaningless explanations. His response was, in full, simply: yes. Henry stared at him in shock.

In the week following the leak, Philip has a series of conversations that lead him down a path of introspection and understanding. Each told through a different POV.

I feel the beating of your heart, I see the shadows on your face by @anincompletelist. M, 18k. It’s certainly not what Alex would have predicted a few days prior. If someone had told him he’d be tenderly embracing his self-imposed enemy after switching bodies with him for seventy-two hours and embarking on an unintentional journey of self discovery and then finally finding their way back to each other to ask for a True Love’s Kiss that may or may not break the curse that flipped their lives upside down -

Well, Alex would have told them to fuck off.

Sure As the Stars in the Sky by anincompletelist. E, 20k. It shouldn't matter that Alex has been present for each and every one of Henry's most important life milestones, sometimes the singular catalyst for them. It shouldn't be important that he's grown to be more familiar to Henry than even some of his own family members, that part of him is burrowed so deeply into Henry's subconscious that he can taste it sometimes, that even when Alex crashes in, spirited and passionate, it feels like an easy exhale; like coming home.

It shouldn't matter, but it does.

flatline by rizcriz. T, 21k. Alex gets the call at 7:57am.

It’s from an unknown number, so he answers it with an accent on his tongue and laughter in his throat, ready to troll the scammer for all they’re worth. But the voice on the other side of the line is serious, solemn, when she asks, “Is this, I apologize, all I’ve been given are initials, AGCD?”

He frowns, turning away from the coffee shop he’d been about to enter. “Who’s asking?”

There’s a moment of hesitation on the other end. “There’s been an incident. On the individual's phone, there’s a sticker. It says, if found, return to AGCD, alongside this phone number. Does it sound familiar?”

Alex freezes in the middle of the sidewalk. “What kind of incident?”

Or, Henry's been in an accident.

Pump The Volume by absoluteaudacity. M, 22k. Zahra, sitting across the table from Alex, gives him a stony glare. “Aids?” she signs and he shakes his head obstinately. His hearing aids make his ears itch and he isn’t wearing them in his own house, even if that house is The White House.

everybody needs someone series by anincompletelist (soldouthaz). E, 24k. It would hurt less, Alex guesses, if he wasn’t head over heels for the guy he’s supposed to be fucking through an ancient one-sided sex curse with that was partially — a lot, actually — his own fault.

But. It’s not like there’s a fucking handbook.

Alex has looked.

Claremont 2008 by @happiness-of-the-pursuit. M, 26k. What if Ellen Claremont had gotten elected in 2008 instead of Obama? An alternate timeline story of FirstPrince.

2009 at Buckingham Palace for tea. A sleepover after a quinceañera in 2010. The 2012 London Olympics. A 2014 Model UN Conference. A funeral in 2015. College and another campaign trail.

And the texts, facetimes, and chain emails in between.

Vacation, Meant to Be Spent Alone by allmylovesatonce. E, 29k. Alex has the perfect trip planned out for himself after his graduation. The last thing he expects is for his room to be double booked. The worst part of it all is that he'll be forced to share the room with his nemesis: Prince Henry of Wales.

Oblivion by milowren. NR, 31k. What if the moment in the hospital wasn’t a false alarm and the publicity surrounding the forced bromance between Alex and Henry had the adverse effect of them being kidnapped together?

Someday Soon I’ll See You (But Now You’re Out Of Sight) by MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays. NR (MCD), 38k. Alexander Claremont-Diaz was twenty-eight years old when a car crash took his life.

The entire world grieved, and the entire world remembered.

But for some people, it wasn’t just a figurehead that died. It was a friend, a brother, a son. A husband. And remembering all of Alex was a hell of a task to undertake.

Or, how six people in Alex’s life work through his death.

You'll Get Better Soon ('Cause you have to) by Megg1223. T, 38k. Dr. Eden sighs and looks them both in the eyes. “I’m not going to lie to you. There is a possibility that he will never recover his memories. But, there are things we can do to help him along. I’ve already told him about the memory loss. He knows it’s 2023 and that he lost almost four years of memories. I think it may be best to update him on his current situation. His day to day life is drastically different then it was in 2019, is that correct?”

“Yeah, I would say.” Alex huffs out a bitter laugh.

Henry is in an accident and thinks it's still 2019. He still believes Alex hates him, and Alex is a just as much of a mess as you think he would be.

all the rumors are true by fxckingeyelashes. E, 53k. The door slams open in the middle of the night. Henry and Alex both shoot up, blinking through the dark.

“Wha- Zahra, what the hell?” Alex mumbles, making sure to keep the blanket over their naked hips.

Zahra exhales slowly as she flips the lights on. “We have a situation. You two need to get dressed and meet me in the office. It’s… it’s your emails. Someone’s hacked the server. They’re public.”

Alex isn’t sure he remembers how to breathe. Henry’s the first to move, grabbing the small trash can from beside Alex’s bed just in time to get sick.

Or, the one where the emails are leaked, but Alex and Henry are together when it happens. Bits from the book, bits from the movie, bits from my own personal AU I’ve created in my head.

Don't Initiate a Handshake, Always Address Them Properly, and For God's Sake, No Tiaras Until 6pm by TuppingLiberty. E, 63k. What happens when the White House decides to be proactive rather than reactive? Alex is brilliant and kind, but he's in need of a little polishing before he attends the royal wedding, and who to provide it better than Prince Henry? After all, they're both beholden to NDAs and with Princess Bea visiting as well, it's easy to pass off the two week visit as goodwill ambassadorship for both countries. No one has to know Henry is tutoring Alex.

So Alex is going to be left alone in the White House with his mortal enemy and three meddling sisters learning all about royal etiquette and protocol.

What's the worst that can happen?

Things I Cannot Accept by @sprigsofviolets. T, 69k. In 2016, Ellen Claremont lost the presidential election.

In 2019, Alex Claremont-Diaz is not the first son of the United States, so he’s shocked when his path crosses with Prince Henry for the first time in almost four years.

What Do I Know by allmylovesatonce. E, 83k. After a bad accident, Alex finally wakes up from a week-long coma. His family and friends are so relieved until they find that he has memory loss, forgetting the last five plus years. For Henry, he's forgotten their entire relationship. How do they go forward when Alex still thinks he hates Henry, but Henry is wearing his wedding ring?

I only tag an author once per post, but I'm still figuring out firstprince author handles. If you see one I may not know or find a broken link, please give me a heads up!

Master List of RWRB FirstPrince Recs

Master List of Recommendations

#firstprince #rwrb fic recs #rwrb #alex x henry #red white & royal blue

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