#wish it wasn’t though I’d pay to see that

[ghostofmemebi]

“What does James see in Sirius?”

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the black sheep

a/n: wrote this at five in the morning after i woke up from a nightmare ✌️

summary: “don’t,” a sharp breath filled your lungs as you shook your head and your eyes instantly squeezed shut, “don’t do that… don’t act like you care just because my father pays you. I know you’re no better than all of the others out there…” 

warnings: soft!mob!bucky x mob boss daughter!reader, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, forbidden romance, age gap, sexual references, horrible and abusive family, bullying, mental illness (depression, anxiety, stress), references to being institutionalised at a terrible place against one's will, party, dancing, crying

word count: 1511

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The creak of a heavy pair of boots crossing over the threshold found your ears, though didn’t persuade your neck to twist around and see who had appeared in the doorway. 

“Miss?” Bucky’s tone echoed quietly throughout the room as his metal hand continued to clutch the doorhandle he’d just twisted. 

But instead of tearing your eyes away from the night sky that twinkled on the other side of the window, you instead continued to sit on the floor, the fancy dress you’d been forced into wrinkling around your legs, as you faintly began to murmur, “you know, I wanted to be an astronaut when I was little…” your eyes traced one of the constellations gleaming above, “it wasn’t because I had some fascination with space, but it was the one thing I could imagine that would take me as far away from here as possible…” a breath escaped you before your vision finally floated back down to earth and you glanced over your shoulder, “would you mind closing the door? It’s so loud out there…” 

As you reunited your gaze to the world outside and you heard the door shut behind you, the mobster then carefully asked, “are you alright?” 

“Don’t,” a sharp breath filled your lungs as you shook your head and your eyes instantly squeezed shut, “don’t do that… don’t act like you care just because my father pays you. I know you’re no better than all of the others out there…” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tried to conceal his painful awareness of your situation. 

“I know what the others say behind my back,” you uttered, your mind haunted by their voices, playing the comments on a loop till they turned into boiling tar, “poor Y/n, weak and broken Y/n who is crazy and could never really be a part of this family… but unfortunately for everyone, I am,” you breathed, memories of your adolescence flooded your system, how they had sent you away to a broken institution at the smallest sign of vulnerability, “so I could never just leave. I couldn’t go out and earn my own money, they would cut off any attempt I made of getting a job in this city,” you pointed out their power, “and if I tried to get away, move to somewhere else, then they would have to take care of that as well because they can’t have a liability just out there. They own me, and they’ve made sure that I am nothing without them, and with them, I’d never be able to accomplish a goddamn thing. They wouldn’t hesitate to cut my life short if I ever stepped out of line again, you know that, it happened to my aunt… for all I know, it’ll probably happen as soon as my brother takes over, it is after all what everyone has surely wished for since the day I was born…” 

As those last few venting words escaped your lips, a sinking feeling bloomed in your stomach as you realised those shattering truths hadn’t been contained in your thoughts alone. 

“Oh shit…” tears began to blur your vision as you spun around and jaggedly rose to your feet, “please don’t tell anyone about any of that,” you took a panicked step forward, “I–… I didn’t mean any of it, it’s not–…” your chest rose and fell rapidly as you stared back at the gangster, “what do you want?” you attempted desperately, “do you want money? I could talk to my father and give you another leg up? I’ll give you whatever you want, just please don’t tell anyone, I–…” 

An idea then struck through your terrified blubbering, and without giving it another thought, you dropped down to your knees before him. 

“What are you doing?” he finally spoke, blinking down at you by his feet. 

Wiping your cheek as a steady flow of tears rolled down them, you then reached out for Bucky’s belt and sniffled, “you can have me, if that’s what could buy your silence.” 

But instead, your father’s right-hand man grabbed your hands, “stop,” he pleaded, “just stop.” 

Blinking up into his eyes, your hazy vision then drifted down to his fingers enveloping your wrists before you gloomily concluded, “…right…of course… I get it,” your head bowed even further as you uttered, “why would you think of me any differently… of course, you wouldn’t want me to touch you, you probably think I’m cursed just like the rest of them do…” 

But instead of ripping his touch away from your skin as if it was a scorching flame, Bucky’s frame suddenly lowered to be at your level, kneeling by you before he lifted one of your palms up to cup his stubbly cheek.

“I don’t,” a faint shake found his head, “never have,” you found yourself floating away into the ocean of his eyes as he stared back at you, his slow breath fanning across your wet cheeks at the close proximity, “I won’t tell anyone what you said,” he promised, his deep voice nearly at a whisper, “you have my word.”

But as you were filled with equal amounts of uncertainty, as well as shock, footsteps on the other side of the door found you both and tore you apart, just before the door ripped open and in strolled the boss himself. 

“Barnes!” your father’s glare landed on the mobster first before it shifted to find you, hastily wiping your cheeks, “oh great, you found her,” he uttered impatiently, “darling, come, it’s time for your brother to cut the cake. You need to be there,” he swiftly waved a hand for you to shadow him. 

The storm of the party made you feel as if you could come undone and burst into tears at any moment, pushing and shoving your shaky soul till you felt like just a tiny speck of dust floating around in the air. Keeping your gaze on the floor as you pushed through the bustling crowds, it stayed there as your sibling sank a shiny blade into the ridiculously elaborate cake that was rolled out for everyone to applaud. 

Raw and bleeding while the others drank and laughed, your vision finally found enough courage to flicker up, though only to find those same blue eyes, across the room and locked upon you. 

When the music soon was cranked up high and people swarmed to the middle of the floor in pairs, you briefly spotted one of your brother’s friends, a guy not too far from your own age, march straight towards you with an air of confidence that couldn’t help but relax your tense shoulders as you were slowly filled with hope. 

But as he neared and a greeting fell from your lips, a confused look muddled up his features as he shot you a glance before grabbing the waiting hand of a girl standing in the crowd behind you. 

Amused snickers and cruel comments found your ears even though you knew their tones attempted to be silent.

“What a freak.”

“Could you imagine if it had actually been her he’d wanted to dance with? In her dreams.”

“She should just run back to that insane asylum she somehow escaped from.”

With your back soon pressed up against one of the perimeter walls, a shadow then came to darken the spot on the floor your reddened eyes were glued to. 

“You wanna dance?” you glanced up with a wide pair of eyes to spot Bucky settled in beside you. 

“Why?” your brows knit together, “so that everyone can have another thing to laugh about?” 

Holding out his palm, he then let out a sigh, “just take my hand,” and the next thing you knew, your fingers were tangled in his own. 

Once he’d led you out onto the floor, your eyes darting around to all the bewildered glances that shot your way, a sudden breath then filled your lungs as his wide palm slid over your waist and dragged you in closer to his frame, causing your vision to cease their torture and meet his own steady gaze instead. 

The sway was slow and intimate, though you weren’t sure if the sensation terrified or calmed you, as the intoxicating way he made you feel had previously been something you’d packed far away as just an inconsequential crush back when he’d first started working for your father. Though as he held you in his arms and showed you a rare display of compassion, how could your heart not begin to thump once more?

With your gaze hazily cast over his shoulder as you danced so near that your cheeks almost touched, the warmth of his hand then slid down to your lower back before he whispered in your ear, “I know it won’t fix anything, but if it was up to me, you’d be the one inheriting this whole business, not your brother,” he uttered sincerely under his breath, “he’s a hot-headed idiot, while you are stronger and more brilliant than all of these fools combined.”

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[fastandcarlos]

Boss’ Daughter » Oscar Piastri

summary: despite being the daughter of mclaren ceo zak brown, f1 has never been an interest of yours. however, oscar is sure that he change your mind

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liked by zbrownceo, landonorris and 27,492 others

ynbrown: thought I’d finally come and see what all the papaya hype is about after all these years 🧡🧡

2,696 comments

mclarenracing: it was nice to finally welcome you to the mtc yn 🧡

username1: how has it taken you this long to go to mclaren 😂

username2: how does it feel to have the world’s coolest dad??

username3: I hope you see why papaya is all the hype now

zbrownceo: see you in budapest at the weekend?? ✈️

ynbrown: @/zbrownceo you might’ve just convinced me…

username4: omg I want that jacket asap 🤯

landonorris: it was lovely to finally meet you after all these years 😀

ynbrown: @/landonorris at least I see why dad says you’re such a funny driver now 😂

username5: not zak singing the praises of his drivers to his daughter

username6: I wanna know what he says about oscar 😭

username7: secretly wishing that I could also be adopted by the brown family now to meet lando norris

oscarpiastri: don’t tell your dad, but you’re so much funnier than him 🤫

ynbrown: @/oscarpiastri secret is safe with me 🤭🤭🤭

username8: I can’t deal with all these interactions ahhh

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liked by oscarpiastri, mclarenacing and 39,271 others

ynbrown: turns out f1 is actually pretty cool, first race weekend pending…✅

3,182 comments

username9: I can’t believe you’re actually going to a race 🥺

oscarpiastri: that’s a pretty cool hat that you’ve got yourself there…

ynbrown: @/oscarpiastri it’s amazing what you can find in lost property 😂

username10: the boss’ daughter really doesn’t care lmao 😂

username11: how has it taken you this long to fall in love with f1??

mclarenracing: dare we say team papaya has got themselves a new fan? 🧡

username12: she’s not just gone, she’s up close and personal with it all too 😭

landonorris: I hope this isn’t your way of saying you prefer osc to me 🤔

ynbrown: @/landonorris I could never have favourites 👼

username13: petition for mclaren to bring yn to every race forever starting now!!

username14: I love the fact yn actually has taken the time to get to know oscar and lando too ☺️

danielricciardo: I’m sure there’s still a number three hat around in that garage if you want to support a proper driver 😂

ynbrown: @/danielricciardo add one more and you’re talking my kind of driver number 🧡

username15: yn’s so clued up she knows their driver numbers too 🥺

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liked by landonorris, ynbrown and 138,291 others

mclarenracing: oscar handling the pressure of showing the boss’ daughter round the paddock like a pro 🏎️🧡

38,082 comments

username16: why does it feel like this should be titled oscar flirting with the boss’ daughter instead 🤔

zbrownceo: last time I checked that wasn’t in his schedule for this weekend…

username17: not oscar personally offering to show yn around 🤯

username18: it’s only two photos but they look like they get on well ☺️

landonorris: just like to point out that I did offer to take yn around for a tour too 😂😂

ynbrown: @/landonorris only one of you came through on your promise though 🤨

username19: that’s one way to get yourself a forever contract at mclaren 👏🏻

username20: are we all just gonna ignore the way that yn looks at him 🥺

ynbrown: best tour guide ever 🏆🏎️

username21: how much do I have to pay to get a personal tour from oscar too? 💰

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liked by danielricciardo, alex_albon and 493,192 others

oscarpiastri: life recently has been pretty zesty 🌅☺️

57,121 comments

username22: whose making you smile that wide mr piastri?

alex_albon: standby ladies and gents as piastri enters his boyfriend era 🎉

username23: has THE oscar piastri finally got himself a girlfriend? 😭😭

charles_leclerc: nice to see you’ve listened to the tips your brother gave you 😂

oscarpiastri: @/charles_leclerc ofc I couldn’t have found a girl without your flirting tips 🙄

username24: not charles taking the credit for setting oscar up 🤦🏻‍♂️

danielricciardo: proud dad moment watching my son grow up 🤧

username25: I just want to know whose the lucky girl that gets to go on a date with oscar piastri 😂

landonorris: so this was your idea of busy when I offered to hang out tonight

oscarpiastri: @/landonorris sorry you’re so far down my list of priorities 🤨

username26: secretly it’s me sat at the other end of that table btw 😂

username27: I had not prepared myself for oscar springing a relationship onto us like that 😭

ynbrown: that’s a pretty stunning beach you’ve found yourself at 🌅

oscarpiastri: @/ynbrown wonder who could’ve recommend it to me…🤔

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liked by landonorris, zbrownceo and 48,059 others

ynusername: perks of being the future ceo means you can get all the dodgy angles of the drivers 😂🧡

7,497 comments

username28: you cannot tell me that these two people are just friends wtf

zbrownceo: remember the days when you had no interest in f1, now look at you 🧡🏎️

ynbrown: @/zbrownceo I just pretend to like it to be one of the cool kids 😂

username29: thank you yn for exposing oscar like this 😂

username30: the smile of such an unbothered man ☺️☺️

oscarpiastri: I’d get the sack if I showed some of the photos that I have of you ffs

ynbrown: @/oscarpiastri perks of the job 👑

username31: I can’t imagine you can exactly tell the boss’ daughter to go away hahah

landonorris: suddenly I don’t mind being your second favourite mclaren driver if this is how you treat your first 😂

username32: why am I so invested in these two, they have no idea who I am 😂

mclarenracing: yn stop stealing admins job pls 🫶🏻

username33: I refuse to accept that anything other than a relationship is happening here!!

alex_albon: you might be a candidate for worst boss ever yn!

ynbrown: @/alex_albon it’s a title I’ll wear proudly ☺️

username34: oscar follows yn around everywhere, he’s definitely chasing her 😂😂

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liked by username35, username36 and 2,583 others

f1gossip: several sources have shown oscar piastri getting particularly close to a female in the paddock. whilst our photos do not show a face, several eager eyed fans have been pointing the finger towards ceo zak brown’s daughter yn who seems to have struck up quite the friendship with the aussie…

472 comments

username37: imagine being so hot that you manage to date the boss’ daughter

username38: can we just talk about how awesome zak would be as a father in law too please 😂

username39: oscar, zak and yn is a trio I absolutely need in my life 🙌🏻

username40: ngl oscar doesn’t seem to be able to keep his hands off of yn these days

username41: there is no one in this world who actually believes that isn’t yn btw 😂

username42: clearly whatever charles has been teaching oscar to do has paid off!!

username43: his smile just seems to get bigger and bigger every time they’re photographed together 🥺

username44: I’ve not been this obsessed over two people for such a long time

username45: thank you yn for making our little pookie happy 🫶🏻

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liked by ynbrown, charles_leclerc and 739,987 others

oscarpiastri: young driver of the year award with perfect company to finish the evening perfectly 🧡🏆

72,808 comments

charles_leclerc: when do I get to meet my future sister in law??

oscarpiastri: @/charles_leclerc I’m keeping you away for as long as I possibly can 😂

username46: look at my two favourite people 🩷🩷🩷🩷

alex_albon: I mean there was no doubt that you were gonna win tonight anyway 😂

username47: oscar piastri you scrub up very well sir 🔥🔥

aussiegrit: well done oscar! doing australia proud 🇦🇺

username48: which is the more impressive trophy, yn or the title??

georgerussell63: congrats my friend - looking forward to battling again next year!

ynbrown: could not be prouder of you, your hard work is admirable 💕💕

oscarpiastri: @/ynbrown thanks for being my hot date for the night 🥰

username49: oscar has fully converted yn into an f1 fan now 😂

landonorris: congrats osc, best team mate ever 🧡🧡

username50: osc 😭😭😭😭😭

username51: mclaren just seems like the most amazing place to work ever

mclarenracing: we are so incredibly proud of you, what an amazing season oscar 🧡🏎️

oscarpiastri: @/mclarenracing couldn’t have done it without my incredible team!

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liked by georgerussell63, danielricciardo and 1,382,607 others

landonorris: I call this thread the faces of a man who has just had to admit to his boss that he is in fact dating his daughter 😂😂😂

173,068 comments

username52: turns out lando loves to expose oscar as much as yn does too 😂

ynbrown: he’s not even that scary, you wait until he finds out we’re sleeping together 😂

username53: I’d love to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation!!

carlossainz55: posts like these always remind me how much nicer my days are without you constantly annoying me anymore

danielricciardo: about time you started bullying a different aussie anyway 😂

username54: we all know how much zak loves oscar, I bet he was thrilled!

oscarpiastri: thank you for throwing me underneath the bus once again 🙄

username55: can just imagine zak trying his best to be an intimidating dad but he’s too soft for oscar 😂

georgerussell63: you’re the worst team mate ever sometimes hahah

username56: poor baby 😭

username57: as if yn will let her dad give oscar a hard time anyway!

zbrownceo: stop treating me future son in law like this norris 😡

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liked by ynusername, zbrownceo and 688,381 others

oscarpiastri: turns out dating the boss’ daughter is a pretty cool job after all 🧡🥺

63,960 comments

username58: officially my new favourite post in the world 😭

ynbrown: dating a driver for my dad is a pretty cool thing too btw 💕🥺

oscarpiastri: @/ynbrown adore you!! 🫶🏻

username59: ahhhhh this makes me so happy

maxverstappen1: looking forward to seeing you at mclaren for the rest of your career now 😂

username60: thank you yn for making the decision to go and visit the mtc all those months ago 🙏🏻

pierregasly: mate you must have some serious game to pull the boss’ daughter!!

username61: thank you for not leaving us waiting forever and a day for confirmation 😂

landonorris: well this is just a little bit exciting…🥺

username62: still bitter that I’m not the ceo’s daughter and dating my favourite driver

carlossainz55: luckily for you your dating the daughter of one of the best bosses in f1 🧡

username63: yn really does have it all now doesn’t she 😝

charles_leclerc: I’m still waiting to be introduced 😂

oscarpiastri: @/charles_leclerc keep on waiting 😘

zbrownceo: I’ve still got my eye on you piastri 😂🧡

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˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[rafecameronssl4t]

Leo is born || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: the long awaited fic of Leo's birth!

Warnings: complications with childbirth, allusion to ppd.

Word count: 1,190

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The hospital room was anything but calm—machines beeping, nurses and doctors moving quickly, their faces strained with focus. The air was thick with tension, a suffocating weight pressing down on your chest. You were drenched in sweat, each contraction crashing over you like a violent wave, sharper and more relentless than the last.

Hours had blurred together in an agonising haze, the pain unyielding, your body caught in a merciless cycle that showed no sign of easing. The baby was still in the wrong position, and every minute that passed felt like a lifetime. You were struggling to breathe through the pain, your vision blurring at the edges. Rafe paced at the edge of the room, running his hands through his hair, his eyes wild with worry. His shirt was crumpled, half tucked in, half hanging loose, as if he had dressed in a rush and didn’t care how he looked.

For once, his usually cool, composed demeanour was completely shattered. His gaze flicked between you and the doctors, desperation and helplessness etched across his face. He had no control here, and it was driving him mad. Another contraction hit, and you let out a sharp cry, your body trembling. Your hands clenched around the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.

Rafe was by your side in an instant, grabbing your hand. But his touch wasn’t soft or reassuring—it was tight, as if he were trying to hold on to his own fraying sanity. “Rafe…” you gasped, trying to catch your breath, your voice cracking. “Hey, hey… it’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe. I’m right here.”

His gaze flicked to the doctors, his blue eyes narrowing with a dangerous intensity. “What the hell is going on?” His voice was low, tight, like a coiled spring ready to snap. “Why aren’t you doing something?” One of the doctors—a calm, composed man in his forties—tried to explain.

“Mr. Cameron, we’re monitoring the situation. The baby is in a breech position, and we’re assessing the safest way to proceed without—” Rafe cut him off, his voice rising, sharp and angry. “I’m not paying you thousands of dollars to asses the situation! Do something now! She’s in pain. She’s been in pain for hours, and you're just standing around doing nothing!”

His hand gripped yours tighter, though he didn’t even seem aware of it, his focus entirely on the medical staff. You could see the way the doctors exchanged looks—professional, calm, but there was a flicker of unease in their expressions. They were used to pressure, but not the kind of raw, unfiltered anger that Rafe was radiating.

“Mr. Cameron, I understand you’re upset, but we have to ensure the safety of both your wife and the baby. A C-section is becoming increasingly likely, but we have to wait for the right moment.” Rafe let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “The right moment? My wife is screaming in pain, and you're telling me to wait for the right moment?”

Another contraction hit, and your hand instinctively tightened around his. You let out a choked sob, tears streaming down your face as the pain shot through your entire body. Rafe’s attention snapped back to you, and for a brief moment, the anger in his face softened, replaced by something raw—something vulnerable.

He brushed a damp strand of hair away from your face, his thumb trembling as it touched your skin.“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he whispered, though the strain in his voice betrayed the fear simmering beneath the surface. “I’m right here.”“Rafe,” you gasped, voice cracking, “I can’t… it hurts so much.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he might break. But he didn’t. He bent down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath shaky, his words barely above a whisper. “I know, I know… I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it away. I’d do anything to make this easier for you. Just—just hold on, okay? You’re so strong. You’re doing so good.”

But the second the contraction eased, his head whipped back toward the doctors, fury burning in his eyes again. “Do something! Now! I don’t care how much it costs. I don’t care what it takes. Just help her!” One of the nurses, sensing the rising tension, stepped forward. “We’re preparing for a C-section, Mr. Cameron. We need just a few more minutes to make sure everything is ready.”

“You’ve had hours,” Rafe snapped. His voice was dangerously low now, the calm before the storm. “If anything happens to her—or to my son—it’s on you. Do you understand me?” You could feel his anger vibrating through his body, his hand trembling in yours. He was terrified, but he didn’t know how to express it except through rage.

And yet, even through the haze of pain, you could see that his fury wasn’t just anger—it was fear. He was helpless in a situation he couldn’t control, and it was killing him. Before you could say anything else, the doctor spoke up, his tone firm but professional. “We’re ready for the C-section. We’re going to take good care of both of you.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked back to the doctor, his jaw still clenched, but he didn’t say anything more. Instead, he turned back to you, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles, trying to offer you the only comfort he could. “You’re going to be okay,” he whispered, his voice soft now, almost pleading. “You’re so strong, and I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” The next moments were a blur. The pain, the fear, the cold sterility of the operating room.

But Rafe never left your side. Even through his anger, through his fear, he stayed with you, his hand in yours, his eyes locked on you, as if you were the only thing tethering him to this world. And when Leo’s first cry pierced the room, Rafe let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding. His grip on your hand tightened, and he leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead, his voice choked with emotion.

“You did it,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “He’s here.” You let out a breath of relief. “Here,” a nurse approaches with your newborn son, freshly cleaned and swaddled. “Hm?” Your voice is distant as she gently places him on your chest. The weight of him feels foreign, almost surreal. You suck in a shallow breath, your shaky hand reaching up to stroke his delicate back, but you pull it away, unable to hold it there for more than a second.

The room feels heavy, and a hollow ache settles deep within your chest. You avert your eyes, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. “Can I… Can I just rest?” Your voice cracks. “I-I want to rest right now.” The nurses exchange quiet glances, their eyes flicking toward Rafe, who is watching you closely, trying to understand the distance in your expression. His brows knit together in concern, but after a beat, he nods slowly, saying nothing, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s waiting for you to come back to yourself.

[luveline]

I was just rereading your marauders sex shop blurb. I love how the boys have just adopted reader into their group, and how open they are with their affection for her. You do such a wonderful job of writing intimacy that rides the line between platonic and romantic. And I love the readers inter monologue of wondering if that intimacy means something more romantic like she wishes. It’s wonderful! I was also wondering if there’s a blurb on how the boys met reader for the first time?

thank you so much, that’s so nice of you <3 there wasn’t one but I hope this is okay!! —Remus, Sirius and James move into their new flat. You’re helpful. fem, 1k

The stairwell is filled with the sounds of kissing. Remus frowns, heart beating quickly, arms aching under the weight of yet another box. He gets to the top of the stairs and peeks around the box’s sides. 

Sitting on the step of their new doorway is James. And, sitting on top of James, stroking his cheek, is Sirius. His hair is falling all over the place and they’re kissing so much Remus assumes they’ll have bruised noses. They often turn their kisses into a fight, like one of them can win, though it never really ends that way. He wants to laugh as Sirius pushes James down for more kissing, and he sort of wants to watch regardless because they’re both good kissers and he’d quite like to be included, but mostly he needs the heavy box put away. 

“Someone please help me,” Remus says. 

James breaks away. Sirius squeezes his face and begins to kiss his neck. 

“Baby,” James says as he pushes him away, which is funny, unlike him and unlike Sirius to be called it, but also not actually unlike either of them when Remus really thinks about it. 

Sirius gives a last peck and pulls away. When he gets up to look at Remus properly he’s flushed all over from the activity, his neck and face turning red in splotches. 

Sirius and James have spent a lot of time spoiling Remus into love. He would’ve ended up there regardless, but he’s used to being the centre of attention. It was nice to see them kissing, and he wishes he didn’t interrupt quickly, but neither party seems to begrudge him. Sirius stands up and James is a second behind him, taking the heavy box from Remus’ arms before it can topple to the floor. 

“We’re on break,” James says with a grin. “Especially you.” 

“We have to take the van back tonight, in case you forgot. There’s still half our stuff in there.” 

“If we have to pay their fine, it’s fine,” James says, shifting the box against his chest. “I’d much rather pay the extra day than have us all hurt ourselves. How will we ever test the big bed if poor Remus can’t move?” 

“Poor Remus,” Sirius says, taking Remus’ hand to play with his fingers. 

This is pretty much everything Remus has ever wanted. To get to keep his two best friends forever, to be in love, to live together in a new city with good food and better cinemas. And here, nobody knows them. Nobody to judge them or give them strange looks. They can just be together like they’ve always wanted to be. 

Remus leans down to put his face against Sirius’ chest, their hands still held, Sirius’ free arm wrapping around him loosely. 

“Tired?” Sirius asks. 

James reluctantly leaves for the kitchen to put down their heavy box. 

“No. We really need to empty the van.”

“We will.” Sirius drops his nose against Remus’ hair. “Cliche if I kiss you?” 

“I like cliches.” 

Sirius puts his lips to Remus temple. Barely a kiss, no movement nor sound, but Remus knows it counts. It’s about intention. 

“Would you like a rough one?” Sirius asks quietly. 

“Maybe later.” 

“Please, let me give you one,” he says. 

“And have you press me into the floor? I don’t think so.” 

Sirius tips Remus’ head up and presses a kiss to Remus’ Cupid’s bow in an act of lifting his face, and then presses an equally gentle kiss to his lips. All this kissing… 

“I’m so happy we’ve moved,” Remus admits. 

Sirius squeezes his fingers, pulling away to meet charmed eyes. “All we need to do is find James a new team, and it’s perfect. Everything, finally.” 

“Hello?” someone calls. 

Sirius and Remus keep their hands held and shuffle across the hall to look down at the square. The flat building is strange, big and with an interior that’s an exterior, and you stand on the grass with a smile. 

“Hi!” you say, hands on your hips. You’re dressed for the strange weather, jeans and a t-shirt and a zip-up hoodie, entirely non-assuming. “Are you guys moving in?” 

“We are!” Remus says back. “You live here?” 

“My friend, I came to make sure her cat was okay, she’s gone to Ibiza. Do you need help?” 

“Oh, no, we couldn’t ask you to!” Remus says. 

“Sure you can!” 

You smile, and Remus thinks you look really lovely when you smile, it changes everything about your face. He feels guilty for the thought quickly, but it’s not as though being in a relationship means he can’t tell when girls are pretty. 

“Are you busy?” Sirius asks. 

You grin and make for the metal stairs up to the flat. 

Remus peeks at him in surprise, then suspicion, but Sirius only smiles at him. “We’re making friends already,” Sirius says, giving him a nudge. “That’s what we wanted.” 

James returns, having taken off his hoodie, a brown t-shirt loose on his frame. His own, then, because he insists on stealing from everybody’s wardrobes and stretching out their clothes. 

“Why are you guys shouting?” 

“Nice girl’s gonna come help us move.” 

James raises his eyebrows. 

‘Nice girl’ makes her way up the stairs. You’re still grinning when you get to the top, unperturbed by the appearance of another boy. “Hi,” you say, holding out your hand for an introduction. “I’m Y/N.” 

It’s the start of a long road. Remus shakes your hand and gets the sort of butterflies he’s terrified of now, though eventually Sirius and James will admit to the exact same thing, and no one will know what to do about it.

[reidmotif]

"Technically" Not A Student

Summary: Reader is Alex Blake’s TA, and after a guest lecture, Spencer seems to take a liking to her .

Prompt:You’re Alex Blake’s TA when a Dr. Reid comes to guest lecture. Things get heated quickly when you're alone.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: Reader POV, guestlecturer!Spencer , age gap (roughly 10 years), car sex, heavy making out, unprotected sex, slight female masturbation, Spencer is smart and that's HOT, heavy sexual tension

Word Count: 5.1k

Being asked to be Alex Blake’s TA was the opportunity of a lifetime, and when it was presented to me as a first-year graduate student at Georgetown, I took it eagerly and never looked back. 

She had personally approached me after I’d finished a semester in her forensic linguistics class as a freshman, and commended me on my dedication to the material and my general work ethic, and then inquired if I’d ever consider filling out an application as her teaching assistant starting the next semester. 

I immediately agreed. It was a no-brainer. Blake was a seasoned professional in the career field I wished to enter, not to mention she’d been one of the best professors I’d had whilst taking classes at Georgetown. Knowing I’d be working so closely with her absolutely thrilled me. It provided opportunities I'd have never gotten otherwise.

For example, getting to sit in on the class the famed Spencer Reid would be lecturing on. 

She usually kept me quite busy, having me develop assignments and quizzes for her class when she had other responsibilities to attend to. I’d heard horror stories from other TA’s in which their supervisors would delegate ninety-nine percent of the work to their juniors, having them essentially teach the class for minimal recognition or pay. Blake wasn’t like that, and I was thankful. This time around though, she had very different instructions for me.

“You don’t need to prepare any material this time around.” Blake explained to me, and I nodded, listening diligently. “I’d just like you to sit in, and possibly take notes, as you see fit.” She added, and I flashed a polite smile, nodding. 

“No problem whatsoever. I’ll sit in the back so as to not bother any students as I do.” I replied, offering her as much convenience as I could within my actions.  

Secretly, I did want to catch more than a glimpse from the back of the room. I wanted to experience the esteemed colleague Blake had often spoken of with incredible fondness. I was aware he was slightly older than I was, and a bit socially inept from the way she described him in his stories, but I was also aware the man was a goddamn genius. She’d describe in precision the way Reid would pick up on patterns and leads faster than anyone else on the team, and his immense knowledge in multiple fields beyond criminal profiling. When she’d told me he had three pHDs, I had to hold back a gasp. I hadn’t even started my own doctorate, but the idea only exhausted me- and he had three?! Color me impressed. 

Blake, being as brilliant as she did, could sense the hidden enthusiasm in my eyes in meeting this man. 

“Honestly, I’d rather you sit in the front. If you’re taking notes for any student unable to attend, it’s more imperative that you know the contents of the lecture, rather than anyone else.” She said, smiling kindly. 

“That’s absolutely alright with me.” I say, even quicker than before, nodding, thoughtfully. In reality, the only thing I was thinking about was how close I’d be near the man. I had no idea what he looked like, what he sounded like, but something about him made my stomach flutter. 

“I’m sure Dr. Reid would be interested in meeting you, as well. He takes special interest in anyone pursuing our line of work.” Blake added. She didn’t mean for it to happen, but the words made my cheeks light up with a hint of embarrassment.

I don’t know why, but he intimidated the hell out of me. The idea of him taking interest in a conversation with me made my heart beat slightly faster, and I nodded. I tried to convince myself that my nerves came from a purely professional standpoint, but regardless of my intentions, I was absolutely exhilarated by our imminent meeting.

While I knew there'd be initial awkwardness when I'd meet him, given my idolization of the man, I didn’t account for how terrible it’d actually be when I realized how fucking attractive he was. It was almost unfair. I was already tripping over the words I planned on saying in my head, and now he looked like that?

It was cruel.

The soft, doe eyes paired with sharp cheekbones. The slope of his nose, and the mess of brown curls atop his head. Every word out of his mouth was made even prettier by the soft curve and pinkness of his lips, and I found myself wanting to lunge over the table and kiss the hell out of him.

Needless to say, not the right thoughts to have about your professor’s (older) coworker. 

 While I was initially going to introduce myself to Dr. Reid before his lecture, hopefully establishing myself as a serious individual regarding my studies and eventual career, I shied away, opting for Blake to introduce me instead, nodding politely when he made eye contact with me, exchanging a quiet “hello” and taking my seat in the front.

That was it. And probably how it should be, considering I genuinely couldn’t think straight around him. Students began filtering in, and I took my spot at the front of the room, crossing my legs and beginning to outline his lecture as he began to speak. 

He was a brilliant lecturer, and it was honestly criminal he didn’t do this for a living. He gesticulated wildly throughout the whole of it, but every word of his was punctuated with a genuine passion that even some of the best professors on campus lacked. I did my best to diligently keep up with every point he brought up, but with how fast he spoke, it was difficult. Still, an effort was made. 

If that wasn’t enough to deal with, I swear the man kept making eye contact with me for the duration of his lecture. At first I believed I was imagining it, that his eyes kept drifting to mine by coincidence, but by the third time, I’d realized that everytime my eyes left his figure to scribble something, I’d look up to see his dark eyes boring into my soul, almost as if he was trying to solve me with a glance. It was intense and made my stomach turn in a way which wasn’t entirely unpleasurable, but I forced myself to remain professional.

 Blake did not need to see me absolutely lusting after her coworker, even if he was utterly fit. 

Anyway, he was probably only making eye contact considering I was in the front, and probably in an optimal spot for his eyes to focus on whilst addressing the whole of the class. Still, the way his gaze was trained on mine, reaching the deepest parts of my soul didn’t help the growing heat between my legs. 

I forced myself to focus on the board, my notes, anything but those godforsaken eyes for the rest of the lecture. Anytime we made eye contact afterwards, I’d quickly look down, like I’d been caught doing something terrible. 

Was anyone else seeing this? Was I insane and made delusional by my unexpected attraction to this man? Was he seriously making me wet just by looking at me? 

Yes. 

Sooner than anyone wanted, the lecture period had completed and Dr. Reid was finishing up. The students were absolutely enamored, especially the girls, as expected. Of course it wouldn’t be just me who’d noticed that in addition to being accomplished in his intelligence, he was also ridiculously easy on the eyes.

Blake stood in the corner, watching her students vacate the space, while some held back to talk to Dr. Reid as he packed his things. He seemed a bit shy at all the attention, but didn’t hesitate in explaining concepts to seemingly eager students, giving them all a soft, shy smile. 

God help me, he was adorable. How was I falling for a man I’d never even spoken a word to? 

I’d never left the classroom before Blake did, so as she stayed, I did as well, until the three of us were the only ones left in the room.  Blake smiled, walking up to Dr. Reid with her hands in her pocket. 

“You worked up quite the fanbase, Reid.” Blake said, a little playful.

Reid replied somewhat bashfully. “You have a great bunch of students.” He flashed a small smile at her as they spoke, still packing up his things. 

 The dynamic between my superior and the man was obviously sweet. They almost looked familial, which made sense. Blake had commented here and there that she managed to spend more time with the BAU with her actual family. I’m sure the latter was the same for Spencer. He probably had a doting girlfriend at home, ready to welcome him in her arms and I mentally kicked myself again for being so attracted to him.

He was nearly ten years older, for god’s sake! Enough! I screamed at myself. 

 I was brought out quite suddenly from my thoughts when Blake spoke in my direction. “This is (Y/N), my teaching assistant.” Reid came in my direction as I got up and approached him, offering a hand to me. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. Blake told me who you were, but we weren’t properly introduced.” 

I gave a firm shake to his hand, which I noticed was calloused and smooth at the same time. God, even his hands were pretty. He had long, slender fingers with short-kept nails. They were veiny, and looked strong. I couldn’t help but imagine what they’d feel like inside of me, buried in the heat of my core as I begged him for more.. more.. 

I forced the thought out of my head, only nodding again at the handsome man. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Reid.” I say, forcing myself to be professional.

Stop thinking about fucking him! 

“Spencer works just fine.” He says, imparting a kind smile that nearly made my knees weak. Did he have any idea the embarrassing effect he was having on me? 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Blake looking at the two of us with a bit of a strange expression on her face. I let go of his hand and took a step back. Oh god. Could she tell? If she could, she said nothing. She gave us both a kind smile, before grabbing her own things.

“(Y/N)?” She called out, starting to walk to the door. “Mind locking up for me tonight?” She said, already throwing her keys to me. 

“That’s fine by me.” I say, grabbing her keys mid-air. I was used to this. Blake often wanted to leave a bit quicker than I did, and I was more than happy to assist in any way possible. What I didn’t realize, was that this left me and Spencer in the room alone, something I wanted to avoid, considering how fucking awkward this man was rendering me with so much as a glance at me.

I heard Blake leave, and as she quietly closed the door behind her, I leaned against a desk, keeping my eyes down as Spencer continued to pack his own things. I tried to not let my gaze drift to him, as I waited for him to finish up. 

I let my thoughts wander to the lecture, and couldn’t shake the feeling he’d evoked in me when he looked at me like that. This was honestly ridiculous. The man had barely spoken ten words to me, and here I was, absolutely mooning over him. It was a new low for me, but in my defense being a graduate student meant I didn’t have much time to get my .. needs fulfilled.

“That’s why” I convinced myself. I just hadn’t gotten laid in a really long time. Nothing more, nothing less. 

“So, you’re a criminology student?” Spencer says, suddenly, breaking me out of my trance. 

I looked up, nodding. I responded on pure habit and instinct. ‘Yes, I’m in the process of getting my Masters in Criminology.” I said, nearly robotic. 

“That must be interesting.” Spencer replied, flashing me a sweet smile that caused an entirely new slew of butterflies to erupt in my stomach. “I never studied criminology specifically, but the classes I took interested me.” 

“Blake told me you had three pHDs.” I acknowledged, trying to return his smile, but in all honesty, I probably looked like an idiot. I was nervous as hell, and hoped he couldn’t tell. It wasn’t my fault. He was awe-causing. A sight to behold, if you will, in intelligence and appearance. 

He laughed good naturedly, “Yeah. Three.” He must’ve noticed the stars in my eyes, because he continues. “As well as a Bachelor of Arts in Psychology and Sociology. And I’m working on another in Philosophy.” He finishes with a smug, boyish type of smile. 

What was previously stars in my eyes, was now full blown shock all over my face. “Wow, Spencer.” I said, a little dumb-struck. “That’s.. a lot.” I add, a little stupidly, giving him a little laugh. 

He sweetly scratched his neck, revealing his self-consciousness. “Yeah? You think?” He says, a small smirk in his voice, and I laughed again. “You think I should stop after Philosophy?” 

“Totally. Save some knowledge for us.” I teased. It was comfortable. He was surprisingly easy to get used to. He was affable, despite how daunting his knowledge was. 

“Hey, you try graduating before you’re a teenager.” He defends himself, playfully. “Not much to do, really.” 

I laugh. “I don’t know.” I say, throwing my hands up a little. “Play ball? Run around?” I joke, and he makes a face at that, scrunching up his nose. 

“Not my thing.” He replies, smoothly, and I laugh. 

“Alright, fine. Keep your degrees doctor man.” And he laughs at my joke. Like, a real laugh. I didn’t even find my own rhetoric particularly humorous, but knowing that I’d gotten him to react like that made my cheeks glow. 

He finished packing the last of his things and slung his satchel bag over himself, starting to walk over to the door. I made sure to gather all my things, and walked to the door with him. He held it open for me, and I nodded my head in thanks, and he let it shut behind us. I turned around to lock it, using Blake’s keys and placing them in my bag securely, before looking at him. 

“Well, Spencer. It was nice meeting you, thank you for the lecture it was-” I start, but he interrupts me. 

“Can I walk you to your car?” He interjected, looking a little shy as he did. I smiled a little confusedly, wondering why he’d want to do so, but I gave him my answer, nonetheless. 

“I don’t have a car. I usually take the bus back to my apartment.” I explained, smiling softly. 

“The bus?” He says,  quirking his mouth to the side. “Isn’t it a bit late for that?” He replies, a hint of concern in his voice. 

I gave a little sigh, “I mean, it’s fine.” I say, trying to laugh a little. “I’ve done it before.” I add, attempting to ease the worry out of his voice. “It’s not that late.” I say, but he simply shakes his head. 

“No way.” He says, still adamant on this. “I.. I can drive you home, if you’d like?” He says, his words going slightly on the higher pitch as he rolled out his proposal, and I gave a small grin at that. 

“Really? If it’s a hassle I can seriously just take the bus. I wouldn’t want you to keep anyone waiting at home or-” 

He interjects again. “No hassle. I promise. I want to.” He pauses, before adding, “No one at home. You’re probably going to be the last person I see today.” He seems to blush at his final admission, and my eyes widen in interest. No girlfriend? Score. 

“Alright, Spencer.” I say, smiling again. “Lead the way.” 

He led me to his car, an old-fashioned Volvo and I couldn’t help myself from gawking at it.

“God, you have a cool car too? Is there anything about you that isn’t interesting?” I say, aware I was probably stroking his ego a bit, but honestly I wanted to. The man was just so damn intriguing, and every new bit of information I learned about him only made me want to unravel the whole of him. To truly know him, in and out. 

He laughed, using his keys to manually unlock the door. “Oh, trust me. I’m plenty boring. The car is probably my only saving grace.” He joked, and I laughed again as I got into the car. 

“Oh, I highly doubt that, but if you say so.” I say, sweetly, and adding a light tone of flirtatiousness in my tone. He seems to blush at this again, and I begin to think about the events of day. The stares in class, the perpetual rosy tint on his cheeks that had been there since we began our conversation, the way he joked and laughed at my (admittedly, unfunny) jokes. 

Oh god. Did he like me? 

Only one way to find out. 

As Spencer got in the car and began driving onto the main road, I looked at him, trying to put on my best, innocent smile. “So, you said you’re not going home to anyone?” I say, a softness to my tone, but an undeniable hunger in it as well. 

“Uh.” He responds, that damned blush coming on, strong. “Yes.” He replies, nodding as he keeps his eyes on the road. 

“So, you don’t have a girlfriend?” I ask, a bit forwardly. 

Now he’s really blushing, stuttering a bit. “Oh, no. No girlfriend. Not much time, given the BAU and our schedule.” He said, almost clinically, and I nodded. 

“I mean, Blake has a husband.” I point out, a little smugly. 

“I guess.” He says, sighing a bit. “But, you know.” He says. He vaguely gestures to himself, and I look at him a little confused, tilting my head at him.

“Spencer, I have no idea what you’re trying to say.” I say, with a little giggle. “But trust me, you’re absolutely gorgeous.” I continue, before I can stop myself.

He looks at me, giving me a soft smirk, and a raise of his eyebrows. He didn’t look uncomfortable, and honestly looked just as thrilled as I did, and I knew that this night had a good chance of going the way I wanted it too. 

“Ah, you’re sweet.” Spencer replies, “But no. I just mean, I’m.. me. You know?” He says, trying to explain his (non-existent) shortcomings, but I just shake my head. 

“You don’t give yourself much credit, you know?” I attempt to say with that amorous tone from before, but it was more overcome with genuine respect and admiration. “You’re smart, funny and nice to be around, I mean.” I pause. “Did you not see the absolute crowd of girls around you after the lecture? Trust me, Spencer. I bet you’re more than easy to be with, even easier to like.” The words rush out of me, and I watch him tentatively for his reaction to my words. 

Instead of the sweet side smile he’d been offering me all night, he finally looked at me. The car had come to a stop at a red light, and his face was dangerously sexy as it was illuminated by the colored glow around us. 

“And what do you think?” Spencer says, in a low tone, making direct eye contact with me. 

I feel my stomach turn at the sudden directness in his words, his gaze nearly devouring me whole. I felt my mouth go dry and I swallow, trying to keep my tone steady. 

“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice having a slight shake to it. 

“I mean, what do you think about me? Do you.. like me?” He says, licking his lips slightly, and the action causes the previous heat between my legs to come by in full force. 

“Oh, I mean.” I say, my previous confidence dissipating in an instant. “Well, yes, Dr. Reid. Everyone liked you today.” I say, trying to give more of a conservative answer now.

The man had a way of making me feel totally comfortable around him, and then flipping the switches, rendering me dumb and stuttering. Like I was now. 

“Oh, so I’m Doctor Reid now.” He says, clicking his tongue and saying the words with an air of lighthearted teasing, but I only bit my lip, hurriedly trying to explain myself. 

“I mean, it's your title.” I say, quickly, trying to justify myself. “I mean, you said it yourself- three pHDs. It’d be pretty shitty to just discard the years taken to achieve that. Um. Well. You’re a genius so probably not as long, but still! Calling you doctor is a sign of respect for your accomplishments and-”

“You're cute.” He interrupts, and I look back at him to see his eyes back on the road, a cocky smile plastered on his face.

The light around us turned green, and he started the car. I picked at my nails slightly, trying not to display any more signs of nervousness around him. I wanted to do something with him, at least, and that couldn't happen if I was a bumbling mess.

We drove in relative silence for the next few minutes, as I tried to gather my thoughts and possibly continue what we’d been building up to these past few hours, but a quick glance at the windows and the road we were on caused me to furrow my brows.

“Oh, this isn’t the way to my apartment.” I remark absentmindedly, looking at the window beside me, then in front. “I live near the train station, off east?” I offer, expecting him to fully make a turn back towards the direction I’d prompted him towards, but he didn’t even flinch, continuing on the more secluded road we’d entered.

“I know.” He said, glancing at me once more, actually applying more pressure to the gas pedal, causing us to go faster down the terrain. 

Okay, fuck. He was an FBI agent, so I didn’t have to worry about him murdering me, right? Wait, no, that’s stupid. He could probably get away with it. No! He’s Blake’s friend. Her coworker. For the goddamn FBI. He wouldn’t murder me. What the fuck was going on? 

I watched as Spencer pulled off to the side of the road, darkness surrounding us entirely. There weren't any other cars around, and it was silent in the car before I bit my lip, and started to speak.

“Did I.. offend you?” I ask, cautiously. No reply. I try again. “Why did we stop?” I add, trying to test the waters with him to see what he was thinking at that moment. 

“I thought I could wait before we got to your place, but I need to know now.” He replied, a sudden urgency in his voice. He turned towards me, watching me with a dark, intense gaze, similar to the one he'd given me in class that day. “Do you want me? Am I reading this wrong with you? Because if I am, we can completely forget it and I can drop you home but (Y/N)..” He paused. He made direct eye contact with me and once again I found myself wanting to swim in those dark eyes of his. “I want you.” He said, his voice low and raspy. 

I didn't give it much thought as I gave into my urges and surged towards his lips the best I could in the car. He responded immediately, bringing me closer with his hands and placing them on either side of my face, moving his lips against mine in a perfected rhythm. I used my fingers to quickly undo my belt, before climbing over the console to sit in his lap, getting closer without our lips disconnected once. He understood my actions and intentions immediately, pulling the seat back so I could rest more comfortably in his lap as we continued to kiss. 

I knotted my hands in his hair, giving an experimental tug which elicited a low moan from his mouth. I grinned against his lips and his hands moved from my face to his hips, bringing my clothed core to rest right against his growing bulge, which I immediately moved against. He let out a sharp breath as I did and broke the kiss. 

“Oh god. I’m sorry.” He said, breathlessly, hands on my hips. “I don’t know what came over me and-” 

He looked almost frantic, and incredibly guilty, so I quickly leaned in for a peck, stopping him mid sentence. I brought my hands to his shoulders to rub them soothingly, and he seemed to relax in my touch. 

“Spencer, calm down.” I say, nearly purring. “I want this.” I continue, rubbing patterns into his arms now. “Please.” 

“You’re Blake’s student.” He murmurs, using one of his hands to run through already messy brown curls. “What am I doing?” He says, almost to himself, looking ready to stop our tryst. 

I realize he was attempting to backtrack from this, and before he could continue his train of thought, I quickly leaned in from my position on his lap to start kissing his neck, trailing wet hot kisses down the column before whispering. “I’m not her student.” 

He pulls away to look at me, biting his lip. “What?” 

“I was her student last semester. I’m her teaching assistant now.” I smirk a little, licking my lips. “Technically not a student of hers.” 

He seemed to take in my words for a moment, and then something in him shifted, and he lunged at me again, kissing me with even more ferocity. He absolutely devoured me, his hands everywhere at this point. Caressing my sides, in my hair, on the small of my back. He brought me closer to him in any way he could, pressing our bodies against each other in a frenzied manner that caused the wetness between my legs to increase tenfold. 

“Wanted you.. as soon as I saw you.” He murmurs against my lips as we caught our breath in between kisses. “Knew it was wrong but..” 

I nodded. I understood. I was the same. 

“Fuck.” I moaned, as I felt the bulge resting below me get even harder. “Spencer, please. Don’t make me wait.” 

“Impatient.” He remarked, smirking, now beginning his own line of kisses down my neck, making me moan in pleasure. 

“Please.” I breathed out, my words being reduced to a squeak as he bit my neck gently, and my eyes fluttered shut. I was melting right in his damn hands, just like he wanted. 

His hands started to work at the buttons on my jeans, and I sighed in relief, lifting up my hips to allow them to be tugged off, leaving me in my underwear. His slender fingers traced the seam, leaving me shuddering with pleasure for the man in front of me. I tried once more, breathlessly murmuring at him.

“Please. Please.” 

“Use your words, baby.” He whispered, a devilish smirk on his face. I was too far-gone to care about what I looked like. I needed him so badly. 

“I need you to fuck me, now.” I say, clearer. “I need it, Spencer.” 

Something about me using his name, nearly moaning for the man when he’d barely touched me stirred something in him, and he started to undo his own slacks, freeing his cock from the confines of his briefs. I watched in fascination as it sprung out, and took in a sharp breath of air. I licked my lips before making eye contact with him, begging for us to get on with it at this point. He nodded, understanding my desperation and I smiled dumbly, beginning to lift my hips. He guided his cock to my heat and placed his free hand on the small of my back, slowly guiding me down his member.

I moaned softly as I felt him enter me, providing me with the most delicious stretch. I threw my head back in pleasure as he brought both his hands to my hips urging me down. 

“That’s it. God, fuck. You feel so good.” He moaned, which only made me want to take more of him. I lowered myself down a bit faster, and he released a heavy groan as his hips met mine. I whimpered slightly, his length filling me up perfectly. A thin sheen of sweat had gathered on my brow and I leaned my forehead, adjusting to his size. 

“You good?” He breathed out, using his hand to brush a piece of hair that had stuck itself on my brow, and I nodded. 

“Yeah, just.” I took a deep breath, before licking my lips, looking up before nodding.

I slowly lifted myself off, letting the head of his arousal nestle in me before I slammed back down, eliciting moans from both of us. He began to match my movements in tandem, thrusting up into me wildly. I held onto his shoulders, burying myself in his neck as we went faster. I could feel his tip hitting my cervix every time, causing me to cry out with pleasure every single time. 

I felt my orgasm rapidly approach, and Spencer seemed to sense this as well, considering the involuntary clenches I was giving around his cock. He let his hand slip down to where our bodies met and rubbed tight, fast circles around my clit, encouraging my release. 

“Come on, pretty girl. Come all over my cock. You can do it.” He breathed out, watching my every move with a hunger I'd never experienced before.  

It took a few more thrusts from him, combined with the insistent fingers at my bundle of nerves before my thighs began shaking, and I let out a chorus of moans, most of them sounding like strangled versions of his name as I coated his cock in my wetness, spurring him on to go faster inside me, bucking into me like a man possessed. 

He continued to jut into me wildly, until I felt him finish inside me, coating my walls with his release. He breathed shakily, holding me close to him as I slumped over his shoulder, my chest heaving up and down as I came down from the intensity of the previous moment. 

He affectionately removed me from his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, the tenderness and gentleness in his actions contrary to what we had just done. I pulled back with a dazed smile, taking in how pretty he looked. 

“If it’s alright, I’d love to take you out for coffee sometime.” He said, still a bit breathless, and a shy smile appeared on his face.

I giggled. He was literally still inside me, and was asking me out on a date with a boyish nervousness that made him even harder to resist. 

“For you Dr Reid? Anything.” 

ahh! writing this was a beast, and i imagined it to be longer but i got what i wanted in less words haha. i hope you guys liked this. any reblogs, comments, likes are so so appreciated i know it sounds totally stupid, but your guys' support means a lot lot lot!! thank you!!! <3

[seasidefallenangel]

𓆩♡𓆪 good men die too, i'd rather be with you 𓆩♡𓆪

valentine's day headcanons ft; kanata yatonokami, tenn kujo, sunday, nagi seishiro

notes: fluff, bit suggestive in tenn's

༄ kanata yatonokami:

✣ it’d be a lie to say he’s ever held something so commercial as valentine’s day in high regard. all the overpriced stuff in stores and seeing an onslaught of affection in public made him roll his eyes at best and sick to his stomach at worst.

✣ even after dating you, he’s still not that big of a fan. honestly, he wasn’t even planning on doing much of anything but nayuta nearly crucified him for that idea. 

✣ (nayuta thinks it’s a miracle kanata even has a partner with how unromantic he is.)

✣ gritting his teeth and bearing it, he takes you out to a more laid-back restaurant in hopes that you’ll like it. something on the high end scale would just be uncomfortable and out of place for him, but if you had really insisted he would do it for you.

✣ it’s so cute to see him obviously flustered yet trying to be on his best behavior for you. he’d normally tell you off for acting so smug and lovesick around him but he figures this is the one day he can let you get away with it.

⁀➷ “ugh, can you just… nevermind. don’t expect this all the time. you’re lucky i love you. no shit i said it outloud. you think i’d be doing all this if i didn’t?”

༄ tenn kujo:

✣ obviously trigger’s angel is able to woo his partner. what kind of idol would he be if he didn’t devote every piece of himself into satisfying you?

✣ as much as he’d love to take you out for the holiday, it’d just be too risky. sure he could wear a disguise but he feels as if that takes away from the intimacy of the holiday.

✣ so, the next best thing is to have a catered dinner at his house. how he got aya and kujo to leave is a mystery, but evidently it worked.

✣ everything about him is practiced and perfect, to the point where you tell him it’s okay to be a little more relaxed. it’s not that he’s trying to put up a front, it’s just that he’s so in love with you he doesn’t even know what to do with himself.

✣ at his core, tenn is a giver - to the point where he’d sacrifice his own wellbeing just to see your smile. there’s nothing he values more than making you happy, and it’s evident with every kiss he gives you, setting your heart ablaze as he takes you to his bedroom.

⁀➷ “i’m relieved everything went well. i wish i could’ve taken you on a traditional date, though. maybe sometime in the future? before we get married at least. … obviously i’m marrying you.”

༄ sunday:

✣ the (former) oak family head is no slouch. even if he’s never formally been in a relationship, he was raised right and knows how to treat you. 

✣ granted, the astral express isn’t exactly the ideal location. he’d much prefer to wine and dine, giving you only the best the cosmos have to offer. unfortunately, he’s also kind of broke after the events of penacony and his defecting, so an in-house date it is.

✣ that doesn’t mean it’s any less special than a traditional night out ; in fact, he puts twice the amount of effort into it. from perfecting a meal filled with your favorite dishes, to paying march and stelle to pick up some drinks and gifts on one of their rest stops.

✣ that of course is then curbed by dan heng giving sunday the most distressed look he’s ever seen, because why would anyone trust those two with a task like that? dan heng then takes it upon himself to get the proper gifts instead of the caterpillar farm suggested by stelle.

✣ the upside to the express is that the view is second to none. throughout dinner, sunday’s wings are fluttering a mile a minute as he watches you admire the stars and swirling galaxies that pass by. he can’t be bothered to look out the window when the most ethereal view is sitting across from him.

⁀➷ “can you look at me once more, dearest? no, nothing’s wrong. i just want to imprint this into my memory. if you had told me even a year ago i’d have you in my arms, i’d have assumed it was a terrible joke. i’m simply grateful the aeon’s have led us together.”

༄ nagi seishiro:

✣ reo is easily the most stressed out person in this scenario. for as sweet and clingy nagi is towards you, that boy is romantically dense. he figures he can get you a candy bar and call it a day, and reo is on the urge of strangling him for even suggesting it.

✣ flowers! gifts! chocolate! jewelry! fancy dinner! reo is trying to hammer in some more ideas into nagi’s brain and nagi’s expression grows more and more bored with every word. he even insists that he knows his partner and all of that stuff would probably overwhelm you (and make you think nagi had been kidnapped and brainwashed.)

✣ they compromise in the end. reo uses some connections to have a chef prepare dinner at nagi’s apartment and nagi gets off his lazy ass to buy you some flowers and a box of chocolate. for all his whining about existing being a hassle, he does listen to you pretty intently. he knows you think roses on valentine’s day is a bit too cliche, so he opts to get you something like a mixed bouquet with ranunculuses, daises, and lily of the valley’s.

✣ it’s sweet and very nagi. even in his own way, he’s able to show how much he adores you. you’re the only thing worth putting effort into in his eyes - all he demands is that you smother him in cuddles afterward.

⁀➷ “i told reo everything would be fine… why does he worry so much? i really like you, so i’m not gonna mess it up. everything is less annoying with you around. … did i say something weird?”

[deadsetromance]

literally anything with gerard way please im begging

FORGET ME

not my gif!

gerard way x gn!reader

summary:  you can’t tell if you’re unwelcome in the band, or if you’re reading too much into things. maybe it would be best if you just left…

warnings: angst! , language, non edited writing. a happy ending if you read between the lines.

note:  thank you for the request!!! i hope you enjoy ! i’ve seen several ideas like this and i finally thought i’d try my hand with a band scenario :)

you wished things were simpler.

you wished gerard wouldn’t toy with your feelings the way he did. you wished there was more to it all then holding hands in the darker corners of the backstage lots. you wished you could show more than shy glances and quiet whispers when you were wrapped together in hotel beds. you wished you actually knew what you had with him.

you wished he wasn’t the lead singer and that you weren’t just the drummer.

for once, you wanted to be selfish…to put your foot down and scream, and say that it wasn’t fair. you wanted to be able to have it your own way, to finally be able to breathe.

but you were never really good at sticking up for yourself.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

you never particularly liked the way you looked in magazines. maybe it was the poses, or the fake blood, or…. it didn’t matter though, you promised your mother you’d send her one. you did it with every magazine you’d find in convince stores, you’d write her a note and have the guys sign it for you before you posted it off to her. 

the issue you were flipping through boasted an “exclusive” interview with the members of my chemical romance on page thirteen, and you smiled thinly. at least the pictures they used were nice. 

the man at the register cleared his throat, and you looked up. “you gonna pay for that?” you looked around, to find the store empty. he gestured at you again, and you quickly walked up to the counter, pulling out your wallet. your shoes squeaked against the linoleum.

you stood awkwardly as he rang you up. was he looking at you funny, or were you just imagining it? you didn’t speak much as you paid, handing over a five dollar bill. you would have bought a pack of cigarettes too, but frank had borrowed money from you, and all you had was whatever change you got from the five. 

you banged your elbow on the way out of the market. it was colder outside compared to the store, perhaps because of the morning rain. hopefully they had the heater on in the bus.

if only the bus had been in the parking lot.  

like the inside of the store, the parking lot was empty. they had left you behind. again.

you used the payphone behind the gas station to call gerard. when he didn’t answer, you called frank, then mikey, then ray. no one answered. you should have expected it, really. 

you had no money for a taxi. it seemed as if you had no choice but to walk to the hotel, though you didn’t know where that was. you walked away from the store, guessing which direction the bus went. it was a shot in the dark, and all you could do was hope that it wouldn’t start raining as you walked.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

the cuffs of your jeans were soaked by the time you made it to the hotel. it was late, and the hotel staff looked mildly worried at your arrival.

they told you that the others had arrived earlier, and already settled into the room. they had headed out to a restaurant without a care as to where you were. 

you had your pick of bed, though your choice was limited to one or the other.it was a sort of roulette to see who you would be sharing with. you’d go to bed angry tonight, bitter, and fall asleep long before they came back from dinner. 

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

 you had a headache. the lights in the interview room seemed too bright, and the arm of the sofa wasn’t very comfortable. gerard woke you up earlier than you would have liked. it was fine though… you just had to finish the interview first and then you could sleep on the bus. you tried not to think about the morning, when you had woken up curled into gerard. maybe you should have slept on the couch, saved yourself the trouble of whatever inner turmoil you had going on. 

you didn’t speak much, with most of the questions being directed to gerard and frank. not that you minded, because the interview would go by faster that way. 

the journalist was a guy you knew from kerrang! you couldn’t remember where you met him though…maybe at a gig or…

“i hate to make you pick favorites, but for this next question you’re gonna have to.” now you remembered. he did a one-on-one a few months ago, backstage before a festival. “let’s start with gerard.” 

you didn’t really want to answer the question, so you listened instead. you’d make something up when it was your turn, and hopefully you were last to answer. 

“well, thats hard… i mean i love all the guys, and mikey’s my brother, and frank and ray are so talented…i dunno” gerard laughed, sliding down the couch. 

frank looked like he was about vibrate out of his seat as he beamed at the camera. “well, ray is just an amazing artist and he get’s so fuckin’ into what he does.”“i mean i, guess he’s my favorite, because i’ve just learned so much from him, really.” 

ray was next. “well i mean i get along with them all, but i think i’d have to say gerard, just because i’ve known him for the longest.” 

you wanted to yell at the interviewer for asking the question. you felt like you were going to puke as you waited for mikey to think about it. “uh…i don’t… i mean maybe my brother gerard?” 

you pretended not to care that you hadn’t been mentioned once. was it because you were a drummer? because you hadn’t been with them since the start? because you were replaceable? 

“y/n? what about you?” you’d pretend their answers didn’t hurt, and so you smiled just as bright as before. you just had to get through this interview and then you could take a nap on the bus. 

“i don’t really think that’s a fair question,” you just had to answer a few more questions and then you could get back on the bus. “y’know i don’t really think i have a favorite. well, i mean…can’t i say that they’re all my favorites? guess i love them all the same.” hopefully they wouldn’t ask you to elaborate, because you didn’t know if you could.

you felt like it was too quiet when you finished talking. maybe it was shame…maybe you should have kept your mouth shut and picked someone.

the interview felt like it dragged on after. you tried to stay on your best behavior, but as every minute passed by you felt the life drain out of you. 

the interviewer didn’t notice the way your smile dropped every time you were ignored, or spoken over. he didn’t notice, but the fans watching the interview would. 

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

you felt drained. interviews always made you stressed, and added onto the poor nights sleep you had last night, you felt awful. 

the interview went terribly, so you smoked by the dumpster behind the building. hopefully you could forget about everything.

 frank had been talking to one of the producers, but they should have wrapped everything up by now. you put out your cigarette and headed back to the bus.

you would have been worried about keeping everyone waiting, but it was clear that you hadn’t. they had left without you. again.

never in your life had you felt so small. you wanted to scream, or, cry, or do something. you didn’t. it was instinctual, the phone number you dialed was second nature. 

your voice was calm as you told gerard to turn the bus around. you didn’t care to hear his explanation, if he gave one at all. you waited for them to come back and pick you up.

you didn’t understand how they forgot about you again, and again, and again. fuck, this time you had been sitting right next to them for nearly an hour. yet you were gone for less then five minutes, and they had forgotten about you. 

you didn’t understand how gerard could be so sweet to you, only to act like you didn’t exist. he was gentle when he woke you up, when you found yourself wrapped in his arms. so why did he forget about you so often? why did he ignore you, and speak over you? he made everything so much harder.

the bus pulled into the parking lot before you could think about anything too deeply.

you ignored them and their pleas and apologies. you didn’t care, and you were far too tired to put up with their bullshit. 

frank followed you to your bunk, but you pushed him away, pretending to read the magazine on your bed. it took time, but in the end he got the hint and left you alone. 

irony was bitter on your tongue when you looked at the page you had opened to. it was the magazine you bought from the convenience store the day before, opened to your interview.

you could hear a whispered conversation coming from the front of the bus, and you grit your teeth. still, your eyes scanned over the print, intrigued, because you couldn’t remember that particular interview for the life of you.

“…oh yeah, touring with my chem is just an amazing experience! i mean i’ve only been with them for a year maybe? it’s just great. i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

sure touring has its ups and downs, but i love it. okay…so i’ve been left behind a rest stops a few times, and it does get hard, but i have so much respect for the guys. 

you can tell they love what they do, and i love being a part of not only the creative process, but just…being able to do what i do?! its awesome!! the fans are amazing, and i wouldn’t be where i am without them, seriously! 

really i wouldn’t want to be doing this with any other band.”

you wished you hadn’t read it. you looked so happy in the picture they printed, smiling and crammed into the group photo. what happened?

a part of you wished you never joined the band. it was nothing but heartache, just like what you felt now. you were angry, and so tired, and above all confused. 

your picture beamed up at you from the page, and you felt nothing but white-hot anger. with a scream, you hurled the magazine out from your bunk, not caring where it landed. 

it wasn’t until your breathing became uneven that you realized you were crying. the conversation in the front of the bus stilled, and you heard worried footsteps. 

while you couldn’t stop your crying, you still rolled over, and did your best to pretend you didn’t notice them. someone was standing outside your bunk…you could feel it. but you ignored them, and cried yourself to sleep.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

you wanted to pretend yesterday had been a bad dream. the magazine sitting on the table, opened to page thirteen, let you know that it wasn’t.

the second you crawled out of your bunk and to the dining area everyone’s head snapped up. you hated it.

you didn’t know what to say or where to look. so you looked at the cup of coffee on the table. you knew it was meant for you, the mug was your favorite, and whoever had prepared it made it just the way you liked your coffee. you wanted to cry.

the “i quit,” spilled out of your lips before you could stop yourself. you were met with protests, and apologies, and pleads, but you didn’t listen. “i hope you can find a drummer, because i’m done here.” 

deep down some twisted part of you enjoyed their reactions.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

you had started to pack your shit and call in a few favors. your apartment seemed so empty when you thought of it, so you’d couch surf for a while. 

no one had talked to you since you ‘quit’. not that you minded entirely…it made things easier. thursday’s show would be your last with the band you decided. you refused to let them treat you the way they did, refused to listen to any of their reasoning. maybe you were jumping the gun...but you didn’t care. right?

the air was crisp, and you could near see your breath when you stepped out to stretch your legs. it felt too early to be at a rest stop, the sun barely peeking above the horizon. you leaned against the bus as you smoked, a habit you’d come upon after being left behind more often than not. 

it wouldn’t really matter if they had left without you this time, you were already on your way out.

it was strange, the way that you could pick gerards footsteps from the rest of the guys. you could tell it was him coming down the steps before you even caught sight of him. 

“hey.” he sounded shy…and it all felt so unnatural. you almost felt bad. “i just wanted to say that we- i’m sorry.” 

“okay.” couldn’t he see that the apology had come too late? you wouldn’t lie…wouldn’t say it was okay and then act like you were one big happy family again. 

“you have every right to leave. we’ve treated you like shit.” it was all starting to sink in. it all seemed so final…so foreign. you were leaving and that was it. this whole time you hadn’t even stopped to think…jumping at chances before you even weighed your options. 

“why?”

“i don’t know. and i know i can’t speak for the others. it’s just weird…being on tour. it takes its toll y’know? and i just get in my head. some days i feel like i’m still asleep. but that doesn’t make it okay.”

“i know.” listening to him bear his soul like that was hard, but he still left you feeling like you were buried in questions. “leaving me behind and all that wouldn’t have hurt so much. but i never knew where we stood. what we were…” he took a sharp breath, and you flicked the ash of your cigarette away. “keeping it a secret–hiding in dark corners and trying not to get caught–that’s what hurt the most.”

“i really do care about you. i know i didn’t do the best job at showing it and… fuck i was keeping you at arms length.” his shoulder brushed against yours and for a moment the both of you fell into tired silence. “you can hate me, but i’m putting it all out on the table. i really really like you. and i want to fix this. i don’t want to lose you.” maybe you were stupid for loving him, even though he left you behind at rest stops and hurt your feelings so often. but your chest squeezed, and for once you stopped to think for a moment. 

is this really what you wanted? cutting it all short so abruptly like this? a part of you mourned what you knew would never come to be. but somewhere inside you…this little coil of something you couldn’t understand slithered around. you were moving so fast, and you didn’t want to let go. 

you knew what you were going to do.

“we can start over. make it real…if you want.” you couldn’t seem to help but squeeze back when his hand found yours. “we’ll keep in touch okay? i’ll sit the rest of this tour out…take a breather. and then we’ll see how it goes from there.” 

you talked well until the sun came up…about the new drummer replacing you—tucker—,about plans for the future, about stupid mistakes, and whatever else you could think about. they would go on with the tour and do good and play music. you knew that.

 he wished you luck, and you kissed him. it felt like a goodbye and new beginnings all in one.

 you wouldn’t take back your resignation…you wouldn’t forgive, at least not for now. but you would look at things a little differently now.

 you’d climb back into the bus, the guilt that had been bubbling in your stomach dying down a little. you would play your last show, and then climb into a taxi and head back the way you came. this time…with four less people.

[brodygold]

A Game For Bros

Nate and I had always been the same: two nerds, caught up in our own world of video games, D&D, and sci-fi movies. He’d been my best friend since high school, a skinny guy with messy brown hair, always wearing some oversized t-shirt of a superhero. Me? I wasn’t much different. Shorter, stockier, and always in retro game tees. We never got into sports—couldn’t care less, really. But that Saturday, when Nate invited me over to check out a new game, we did something a bit out of our comfort zone.

“I don’t usually go for sports games,” I said as I plopped onto his worn-out couch. The game case for The Golden Army: Rise of Champions sat on the coffee table, glowing in a strange golden light. “What made you pick this one?”

Nate shrugged as he plugged in the system. “The reviews were insane, man. People say it’s super immersive, like you actually feel the game.”

“Sounds cool enough,” I muttered, grabbing a soda. “Let’s see what it’s about.”

Nate’s apartment looked the same as always—cluttered with comic books, action figures, and old consoles. The screen flashed on, bathing the room in golden light as the title appeared: The Golden Army: Rise of Champions. The graphics were sharp, but what immediately caught my attention was how detailed the avatar customization was. We both laughed as we started making characters that were basically us but... stronger, taller, more athletic.

“Man, I wish I was this ripped in real life,” I said, chuckling as I bulked up my avatar.

Nate nodded, not looking up from his controller. “Same here, dude. If only, right?”

Once the game started, though, things got weird fast. It wasn’t like any sports game I’d ever played. It was too smooth, too real. Every movement of my character felt like it was coming from me, like my body was somehow connected to the screen. Nate was feeling it too; I could tell by how focused he’d gotten.

“This feels insane,” I muttered, my fingers flying over the controller as my avatar sprinted down the field. My skin tingled, and for a second, I thought it was just adrenaline from getting into the game.

“Yeah, it’s like... I can *feel* it,” Nate said, his voice lower, more serious than usual.

What I didn’t realize was that I really *was* feeling it. I was changing. My arms, once stocky but kind of soft, were slowly growing harder, leaner, and stronger. My biceps pushed against the fabric of my t-shirt, but I didn’t notice at first. I was too absorbed in the game. Nate wasn’t paying attention either, but he was changing too. His scrawny arms were swelling, his chest growing more defined, the lines of muscle slowly becoming visible under his shirt.

My legs were thickening, my calves bulging as they hardened. Nate’s shoulders broadened as his posture straightened, more relaxed, confident. His shaggy hair started to shift, styling itself into something neater and more athletic. It suited him.

Our avatar dominated the field. Every pass, every kick felt like it was coming straight from us. By the time the match ended, I noticed my t-shirt was stretched tight against my chest, clinging to muscles I didn’t remember having. But it felt normal. Like I’d always been this way. Nate was the same. His shirt had morphed into something sleeker, a fitted gold soccer jersey. I looked down, realizing mine had changed too. I wasn’t in my retro game tee anymore—I was in a gold jersey too, my name stitched across the back.

But we didn’t freak out. We didn’t question it. Why would we? We’d always been jocks, right? That’s how we met in the first place.

“Yo, that was sick, bro!” I grinned at Nate, flexing my now-defined arms. “We totally crushed that game.”

Nate smirked, his voice deeper now, his body lean and athletic. “Hell yeah, man. No one can take us down.”

The room around us had changed too, though we didn’t notice with how invested in the game we were. Gone were the stacks of comics and games. Instead, soccer trophies lined the shelves, photos of us in our golden jerseys, posing as champions of The Golden Army. It was as if our old lives had been erased, replaced entirely by something new.

As we kept playing, our minds continued to shift. I didn’t care about D&D or sci-fi movies anymore. All I could think about was training, getting stronger, being the best. Nate, once shy and quiet, was now exuding confidence. We were athletes, teammates, brothers on and off the field.

Our bodies had finished transforming. I looked over at Nate, admiring how ripped he was now. His short hair was clean, his jawline sharp. He looked... good. Really good. The thought lingered longer than it should have, but I didn’t push it away. Why would I? We’d always been close, but now there was something else there, something that had shifted between us.

I felt my heart race as I caught him looking at me the same way, his eyes lingering on my chest, my arms. The air between us felt electric, like something was pulling us together.

“Yo, Nate,” I started, feeling my pulse quicken. “You ever feel like... there’s more between us than just the game?”

Nate turned to me, his eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, the room was silent. Then he smirked, but there was something softer in his gaze. “Yeah, bro. I’ve been feeling that too.”

It happened without thinking. I reached out, grabbing his hand, and suddenly, I was pulling him closer. Our eyes met, and before I could stop myself, I kissed him. His lips were warm, firm, and everything clicked into place. It was like this was always meant to happen. Like this was who we were supposed to be.

When we finally pulled away, both of us were breathing hard. Nate looked at me, his grin returning. “Damn, bro. That was... intense.”

“Yeah,” I replied, still catching my breath. “But I think we’ve always had this, right? Just took us a while to figure it out.”

Nate nodded, his hand still on my chest, his thumb brushing against the fabric of my jersey. “Always. And now? We’ve got everything we need.”

We leaned in again, and this time, it felt even more right. We were no longer the nerdy duo, lost in games and fantasy worlds. We were champions—alpha jocks, leaders of The Golden Army—and we had found each other. As I held Nate close, our golden jerseys shining in the light, I knew that everything was just how it should be.

“Now how about round 2, bro?”

“Oh, you’re so on bro!”

[mullermilkshake]

Part two <- Part three -> Part four

The floor is lava.

Things get hot and heavy before the eve of the next game. The players vote to stay.

<- Masterlist

Frontman!Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader x Frontman!Suguru Geto (Squid game au) Request by @vampir-queen Font used for title Tags- MINOR DNI, Smut, PIV sex, semi-public sex, readers a virgin, murder,misogyny,mentions of threesomes/ejaculation/creampie, voyeurism, lets be honest Satoru and Suguru have definitely fucked, canon-typical violence, blood gore, kind of torture

Suguru laid up in his bunk after the final vote for the third game, he should have been elated. Yet the niggling feeling he had didn't leave his mind entirely.

Where had Satoru gone, and where were you exactly? 

He hoped he’d get a chance to spend time with you before the next game. Your little innocent face making him think about settling down often.

Maybe he should get away from these games and find himself a wife who took care of him, and in turn, he would take care of her.

He was an accomplished lover and he could imagine the sort of faces she’d pull when he did his duties as husband. Then, he thought about your pretty face, and how that would look.

Suguru turned over and fiddled with the sheet on the bed in the deepest thought he’d been in since entering. He could admit that he sort of liked you, but more in a ‘like to fuck you and run’ sort of way.

You had debt in your name, and though it wasn’t by much, it was still an inconvenience to him financially.

He had overheard once that Sukuna was married. Suguru wondered who was dumb enough to go with a grumpy old man such as him and actually make it legal. Would she be as dramatic and twisted as he was? Or perhaps she would be the innocent type like you who would most probably do whatever she was told?

Who knew? If there was one thing Suguru learnt from the brief reflection, was that he just wanted to get laid, a quick fuck to tire him over and help him sleep.

Lights out was fast approaching, Satoru and you were still nowhere to be found. So he got up and asked to be taken to the toilets, to relieve himself before the night started. 

Suguru barely opened the door when an old man marched out, folding his arms and cursing to himself about respect or something.

Then he heard it. Moaning, excited huffing and natural slapping of wet, sweaty skin.

“You like that?” A loud smack echoed around the restroom.

“Yes- yeah, I really do- oh god.” A breathless woman, clearly fucking in one of the stalls.

Suguru wanted to pay it no mind, consciously fighting his inner monologue to give the guy a handshake for getting lucky. He took a piss and tried his best to ignore the distorted moans, the water from the sinks sort of blocking it out.

And when he turned to leave he heard it again. “This pussy is mine, you hear me? Fuck, I wish Suguru could see this-“

Hold on a second… is that Satoru?

He tiptoed over and got as close as he could before his shoes would be visible under the door. The idiot got lucky enough with someone, though Suguru had his hunches, because unlike Satoru he wasn’t an idiot.

Satoru had gone missing. You were missing too. It wasn’t difficult to piece it together.

Well, fuck.

“I’m… oh my- I’m going to-“ your moan hit his ears, that sweet innocent drawl turned filthy.

You were most probably thinking that tomorrow was going to be it, that tonight was the last night before death. Suguru simply wouldn’t allow it, he would make sure you got through it, because he wanted some of what Satoru was having.

But for now he wanted to ruin it, because he was a dick.

He knocked and waited for Satoru’s lazy retort. “Fuck off. This stall’s occupied, if you couldn’t hear.”

Suguru snorted and stood closer so that his shoes were visible now, then knocked again.

“Jesus - I’m trying’ to get laid here, can it wait?”

He heard you whispering to him, audible only just barely. Satoru responded again. “Look, I’d be happy for you to join, but the lady ain’t up for that so get out of here.”

“Ten minutes until light’s out, Satoru.” The bathroom stall went quiet when Suguru spoke for the first time.

“Shit, that’s you?” Satoru laughed, the sound of skin on skin sounded again, your little moans were stifled but still there. “Open the door will ya?”

“What? No, I don’t want people seeing me like this, I’m embarrassed already.”

Satoru cooed and whispered back, “Don’t worry, Suguru’s like a brother to me, it won’t be weird, I promise.”

Suguru could hear you were uncomfortable, but decided not to comment on it, not if it gave him material to keep burned in his memories. And what a sight too, you half naked, sat on Satoru’s cock like the most comfortable seat in the house.

Now, Suguru had seen Satoru’s cock plenty of times, just like he had seen his too. Plenty of threesomes when times got boring in between games in their little town. Plenty of pretty girls, and what’s a little quick fuck with a girl in between amongst friends?

“Hey man, you good?”

He nodded and folded his arms, standing out of the bathroom stall looking in. “Can’t complain, but I came looking for you when you disappeared.”

“Sorry, got caught up in this, can you give us five? I wont take much longer.” Satoru continued to fuck you, though you wouldn’t dare look in Suguru’s eyes.

There was nothing to be embarrassed about, the human body was beautiful, Satoru’s included and Suguru would never judge someone getting off in the midst of murder and bloodshed.

He wondered, would you take him into the toilets too? He could only dream.

“Yeah, just be back by lights out, or the masked guys will come looking.”

“You got it.” Satoru slammed the stall door shut and Suguru left the bathroom, wandering back to his bunk and the mindset to fight off the hard on he was currently battling with. He could just go and jerk off when the lights went out, tonight was safe enough before the special game tomorrow, but he wanted to savour it.

To savour you. 

If Satoru had you, then Suguru automatically wanted you, it was just a thing that happened between Satoru and Suguru regularly. Like brothers or bratty children that wanted everything the other had.

He thought about how Satoru would finish, would you be risky and let him come deep inside you so that you were dripping come light’s out? Or perhaps you were a prude and made him come all over your tits or ass so it dripped all over the tiled floor for the masked soldiers to clean up.

Oh… now that was disrespectful. Something Suguru admired.

He’d ask Satoru about it later.

Once in bed, Suguru closed his eyes and never bothered to wait for Satoru to come back, slipping into sleep quickly before the usual boring music woke everyone up for the impending game.

Which game would it be today? Hide and seek maybe… or what about the other one? Suguru’s favourite, a game he came up with actually.

Only one way to tell.

“Mornin’.” Satoru climbed off his bed and joined Suguru down by the stage, awaiting the square mask to accompany them inside. “Man, I slept like a baby.”

“I bet you did, you sly dog. How many attempts did it take to get her in that stall anyway?”

“None.”

Suguru did not expect that, not from you of all people. “None? You mean-”

“Yup.” Satoru was incredibly pleased with himself by the grin on his face. “She propositioned me, and she’s a freak too- she put it under the guise that she was scared of dying today so she wanted me to take her virginity.”

“She was a virgin?” Holy shit, Suguru missed a few chapters here. “Fuck, how did you get so lucky?”

Satoru shrugged and watched as the large cool double doors opened for the soldiers to enter. “What can I say? I’m just one hell of a dreamy guy.”

“The next game will start shortly-”

Suguru ignored the soldiers. A virgin, you were a fucking virgin- how were you a virgin? “Lucky? That’s a one in a million.”

Fuck.

“Morning you two.” You appeared out of nowhere, your player jacket zipped up all the way this morning. 

“You seemed chipper today.” Suguru was making polite conversation as they entered the set of staircases leading to the game hall.

“Um… I mean- well I got some sleep. So I think that’s why.” 

Yeah, not because you had your brains fucked out by his best friend. Satoru wasn’t even trying to hide it, much to your own shyness, looking around every so often with his arm around you blushing and twiddling your fingers.

“Oh right, yeah, I’m sure that’s why.”

As they approached the doors to the game room, Satoru leaned into Suguru away from your prying eyes. “Hey, how do you wanna do this today?”

“I’ll take her this time, it’s my turn.” 

Satoru pouted. “Aw, what? But I’m on a roll here.”

The audacity. “Yeah, and you got to fuck her last night, give me some slack.”

“You coulda joined if she was into it, but she said no, what could I do?”

While Suguru did agree that it was your choice, he hated the carrot being dangled that close to his face and he couldn’t dive in head first to try it.

When the doors opened, the room was littered with furniture and Suguru could tell immediately what it was. He invented it this way. Large sofas and table tops, chairs and bed frames set up in an almost surreal way, tilted and twisted in the ground into sections. Comfortable enough to hold two people at a time.

“Welcome to the third game. The game will be played in pairs. The game is, The Floor is Lava. All players will stand on the ground until the countdown of twenty seconds begins, then players will need to find somewhere off the ground to remain while the floor becomes lava. There will be six rounds. Those who fall off, or if there are more than two people in the specified safe area, the players will be eliminated.”

“Oh god…” You looked around too, clinging to Satoru’s arm like you were rubbing it in too.

Luckily for you, Suguru knew the way around this game like the back of his hand.

He squeezed between you and Satoru and took your hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe this round, I used to be the best at this game when I was a child, right Satoru?”

Satoru just grumbled. Suguru relished it.

“Really? You’d do that?”

“Of course.” Suguru smiled as sweetly as he could and waved Satoru off. “See you on the other side, Satoru.”

He grumbled and wandered off in the crowds with his hands in his pockets. You were indifferent to his departure and observed the forming pairs and hung close to Suguru.

“So how should we go about this?”

“I repeat, welcome to the third game. The game will be played in pairs. The game is-” 

Suguru took your hand and held it firmly. “Stay with me at all times, if we climb on something, I’ll make sure no one gets on with us. That’s how we do this. But relax and do as I tell you and we’ll be just fine.”

“Alright then.”

The first round began once everyone was in pairs, the creepy music played that Suguru chose himself and each pair walked around the room anticipating the countdown that went off at random intervals.

Twenty seconds ticking away and Suguru pulled you over to an upturned sofa stuck in the ground at an angle. The part of the lava being on the floor had been misleading, though true. The floor was out of bounds and totally uninhabitable when it counted down to zero.

No shooting in this game.

You held on and Suguru watched, the panels in the floor opening completely which caused several people to disappear. The drop down into the pit was a massive one, fully set with punji sticks for added measure for the depravity Suguru held.

Satoru enjoyed breaking people down to nothing, Suguru enjoyed eviscerating them, making them suffer under the guise of conserving ammunition. Sukuna had been amused by that, he seemed to enjoy the punji sticks and was adamant to get a camera installed to watch as the players landed on them.

All Suguru had to do was keep you on a solid piece of furniture to get through the next five rounds.

After the numbers of the deceased players were called, the floor reset itself and the music began again. You climbed off first and slipped your hands in his for the time being, watching the countdown clock to go off at any second. 

“You’re doing great, just keep focused, can you do that for me?”

You nodded and zipped your head around for a piece of furniture when the timer started. You ran over to a table this time, not the best when it was slippery, but it would do. Once you climbed on, another player came over and yanked you off of it by your hair.

Suguru’s eye twitched, it was part of the game and there was nothing against the rules. However he wasn’t about to die for some dumb loser who couldn’t  get their life in order. Not at all. So he yanked the man off and shoved him into another table close by. He kicked the other player he was with off, pulling you up in the process just as the timer clicked off.

The men fell to their deaths and two other select pieces of furniture disappeared into the pit when there were more than two people on it.

Should have listened to the rules, they aren’t exactly difficult.

As the numbers died down and the final round approached, people were getting more desperate, frightened, and Suguru grew more excited.

Seeing people fight each other for survival fascinated him, he also wanted to see how you would fare too at some point.

But after he got a chance to fuck you.

Look at you now, clung to a sofa for your life. You were just begging to be fucked again. 

And where better else to be holed up in the bathroom during the special game tonight?

Perseverance, and he’d get rewarded.

DISCLAIMER - I do not own any of the characters of Jujutsu Kaisen, or anything from Squid game. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[barefoot-joker]

Destined for Heaven, Stolen by the Devil~ Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys and welcome to another Lucifer story. I'm sorry I write for him a lot. I just find to him be a very relatable character and I love him so much! Anyway, this fic deals with heavy Christianity themes, so I did my best to research. If something is wrong, please tell me and I'll do my best to fix it. I was very inspired by the song 'The Plagues' from "The Prince of Egypt". As always, I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 2899

Warnings: Heavy Christianity Themes/Beliefs, Swearing, Christianity Mocking, Slight Possessive Tendencies, Reader's Aunt likes crystals, Reader Dies, Kidnapping?

I sighed as my mother pulled a light blue cardigan over my shoulders. She dusted off my dress and fixed my hair so that I looked presentable. Today was Sunday so that meant we had to go to church. I wasn’t too fond of going and I would have rather been playing in the backyard as a twelve year old does. However, my mom made it her duty to take me and make me a good Christian girl. “Why do we have to go, mom? It’s soooo boring!”

I stuck out my tongue at her. She gently pushed it back in. “You know I want our family to have a good relationship with the Lord. It’s our Christian duty. Besides, going to church is in your blood. After all-”

“Yeah, yeah. God told you that I was destined to be a wife for Adam. How can you believe that? It came to you in a dream.”

“Y/n M/n L/n! You do not question God’s ways! You know better! Now come on, we don’t want to be late.”

Dragging me by the hand, she ushered me into the family Cadillac and sped off. I sighed heavily. There were so many things I’d rather be doing than go to church. I could be with my friends, heck I could be at my cool Aunt’s house. “Hey, mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

“When are we going to visit Aunt Hailey? When she called you said we’d be seeing her soon.”

“I only said that to get her off my back. You know how I feel about her.”

I grunted and crossed my arms. Aunt Hailey was seen as the black sheep in the family all because she was wealthy. A lot of our relatives (my mother included) thought she sold her soul to the Devil in order to be immensely rich and refused to interact with her. I, however, thought she was so cool. When she used to come over she’d regale to me hundreds of stories about her travels around the world. She even showed me her cool crystal collection when we went over to her house a few times. “Now don’t be like that. It’s not ladylike.”

I grunted again and slid down in the tan leather seat. A few minutes later the car was parked in the church parking lot and I was being dragged inside. Sometimes I wish I had siblings so I wasn’t the only one to feel mom’s wrath. She seated us near the front and handed me the heavy white Bible from the pew. I robotically turned to the page with the Lord’s prayer and stood when Pastor Bob entered. We began reciting the Lord’s prayer and sang a hymn before we sat. I didn’t pay much attention as our Priest told us his sermon for the day but I didn’t dare to look around the room. I had to look the part after all. Fidgety, I played with my ring finger. Glancing down, I took in the birthmark that oddly looked like an apple. I remember it showing up after I stayed at Aunt Hailey’s house one day. I never told my mother about it though. I was often reminded of the tale of Eve and the apple and I don’t know what she would do if ever saw the fruit insignia. After the sermon and another hymn, it was time for communion. We all stood in line and when it was my turn I took the small Ritz cracker and ate it. I coughed lightly and then took a sip from the golden chalice. My mom and I returned to our seats and when everyone was done, we recited the Lord’s prayer one final time. Thank goodness it was over. 

As we walked out, I was forced to shake hands with our elderly Pastor. “How is my favorite little disciple doing today?”

I cringed at that. Ever since my mother told the church of her insane dream I was treated like some goddess. “Good.”

“That’s great to hear. I look forward to our weekly blessing.”

“Of course, Pastor Bob,” my mom butted in, “we wouldn’t miss it.”

He smiled and bid us both ado. We walked back to the car and drove home. As we passed by houses in our neighborhood, I looked longingly at the kids playing. Besides church, Sunday was dedicated to my education of becoming a housewife so when I did die and go to Heaven I was prepared. Parking the car, we went inside. I slipped off my Mary Janes and put them by the door. The rest of the day was spent cleaning, doing embroidery work and cooking. Just as I was getting ready for bed, the phone rang. I went into the kitchen and picked up the landline. “Hello?”

“Is my dear Y/n there?”

“This is her.”

“It’s your Aunt Hailey.”

“Auntie! Hi! How are you?”

She chuckled. “I am good, my darling. And you? Surviving another day in that stuffy house?”

I giggled at her commentary. “I’ve been okay. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering when you can come over. I was talking with a friend the other day and he would like to meet you properly. I believe he saw you at my house when you were five.”

“I’d love to come over! Let me ask mom real quick.”

I walked into the living room and pressed the phone to my chest. “Hey, mom. Aunt Hailey’s on the phone. She wants to know when I can come over.”

She looked up from her book and glared at the phone. “You know my answer.”

“Come on, mom! It’ll just be for a day!”

“I don’t know.”

“Please! I promise when I get back I’ll focus on my wifely duties! Please!”

I gave her puppy dog eyes and slightly whimpered. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Alright. You can go tomorrow, but I expect you to stay true to your promise. You know how God would feel if you went back on your word.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

I lifted the phone up to my ear and quickly ran into the kitchen. “She said I can come tomorrow.”

“Wonderful! I’ll see you then, my dear.”

“Bye, Auntie!”

“Goodbye for now, darling.”

I ended the call and put the phone back on the receiver. I returned to the living room where mom and I did our nightly prayer. When we finished, she gave my forehead a kiss and sent me to bed. 

The next morning I dressed in a plaid dress shirt, brown capri pants and black oxfords. I bounced in the passenger seat giddily as my mother parked the car in my Aunt’s gravel driveway. “Now remember to behave. I don’t need any calls about your disobedience.”

“I’ll be good, I will.”

“That’s my girl. And you have your cross necklace?”

“Yes, mom. Can I go now?”

She kissed my forehead and I got out of the car. “Be safe! Call me if something happens and I’ll be back around dinner to pick you up!”

“Okay mom, bye!”

I waved and she drove off. I turned towards my relative’s mansion and walked up the stone steps. I grabbed the handle from the golden lion’s head and gave three loud knocks on the large oak door. The door opened to reveal Timothy, my Hailey’s middle aged butler. “Ah Miss Y/n, we were expecting you. Please come in.”

He stood to the side and allowed me inside. Closing the door, he led me across the marble floor to one of the drawing rooms near the back. I could hear muffled voices talking as we entered, Timothy clearing his throat. “Your niece is here, madam.”

“Thank you, Timothy. That will be all.”

He bowed and exited the room. My Auntie smiled and gestured for me to come over. I ran to her and gave her a big hug. Her navy silk and lace dress clung to me. “It’s so good to see you, darling! I��ve missed you so!”

“I’ve missed you too!”

I pulled away and she motioned to the gold and floral print armchair next to her. I sat and looked at her guest on the chaise lounge. He seemed quite the esteemed gentleman. He had slicked back blonde hair, pale skin and red eyes. I found them quite odd but didn’t judge. Mother said it was bad to judge based upon appearances. He wore a white suit with a red dress shirt, a black tie with black flower detailing, black leather gloves and shiny black dress shoes. He was on the shorter side as well. “Y/n, I’d like you to meet my friend Luci. He’s the one to thank for my wealth.”

The man stood and bowed to me. He took my hand and kissed my apple birthmark. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my little apple. Your Aunt has told me so much about you.”

“It’s good to meet you too, sir.”

“So polite. Your mother is raising you right.”

“Except for the amount of gospel she puts in my poor baby’s head. I swear all because of her fucking dream, she’s gone total Bible thumper.”

Luci titled his head to the side. “Oh you’ll have to tell me over tea. Speaking of which, I think Timothy has finished setting up the garden for us.”

“Splendid!”

We all stood and the blonde offered me his arm. I gladly took it and we walked outside to Hailey’s marble floored porch. A metal table sat in the middle overlooking her large flower garden, a lacy white tablecloth set on top. Luci pulled out my chair and after I sat, pushed it in. He sat next to me and began pouring tea for all of us. Today Timothy had picked out the clear glass kettle so we could see the yellow liquid inside and the pastel teacups. I thanked Auntie’s friend when he poured into my cup and marveled at the small pink flower floating. “I see we’re having chrysanthemum tea. You know it’s your Auntie’s favorite.”

I giggled and picked up my cup. Blowing a little, I took a sip and smiled at the sweet taste. “So you were talking about Y/n’s mother?”

“Ah yes. She’s always been a Christian woman, believing in the power above. Then one night she had a dream, a vision she calls it, that Y/n is to be the third wife of the first man Adam. Ever since then she’s been obsessively devoted and is dragging my poor niece with her.”

“I see.”

Luci seemed to become stiff at the mention of Heaven and God. Perhaps it was a touchy subject?

“So God came to her and said this, hm?”

“Sure as shit supposedly.”

The three of us sipped our tea in silence. “So has school been going, my dear?”

“Good, Auntie. We learned how to do cursive in English the other day so now I can write my name all fancy!”

“That’s great, darling. Anything else?”

“I’ve been feeling kind of left out lately.”

Both adults turned to me in curiosity. “How so?”

“Well none of the other kids my age are really learning wifely duties, at least not as much as me. When I want to go outside and play mom forces me to do my skills.”

“Wifely duties? Pray do tell,” Luci cocked an eyebrow.

“I learned how to clean the house from top to bottom, cook all three meals, sew, embroider, and do laundry. Basically anything my mom deems necessary to please this angelic husband of mine.”

“I can assure you it will come in handy. Especially with how much of pigish brute he is.”

“How do you know?”

“I just got that impression when I’ve read his passages in the Bible, sweetie.”

“Oh.”

“If you had a real man I can be sure you wouldn’t need those skills, darling,” Auntie piped up, sipping her tea.

“A real man? Like who?”

“Like Luci for example!”

I turned to the blonde and he smiled. His eyes glinted with what looked like adoration. He gently grabbed my hand and held it, his hands quite warm through his gloves. He brought it to his lips and kissed the back of my hand. “It’s true. If you were my wife you wouldn’t want for nothing. Every day would be spent in marital bliss.”

“Sounds gross!”

He chuckled and kissed my hand again. “When you’re older you’ll come to love it.”

‘If you say so.”

“I know so.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent listening to Luci’s tales from his travels while drinking our tea. They were quite intriguing and full of adventure. The people he met, the places he went were all so fascinating. It soon became dinner time and true to her word my mom sat in the driveway. Luci walked me to the door and gave a little bow. “It was a pleasure to chat with you, Y/n. I have a feeling we will see each other more in the future.”

“I hope so. You’re so cool, Luci!”

He smirked and patted my head. “Farewell, little lady.”

“Goodbye, Luci!”

I gave him a quick hug before running to the car.

Sure enough as I grew up I ran into the short blonde more often than not. From trips to the grocery store to when I was allowed at Aunt Hailey’s house, we would bump into each other. We’d always exchange a few words and always those red eyes sparkled bright around me. 

That was eleven years ago. Now I lay in a hospital bed, feeling like I was on the brink of death. A few years after meeting Luci I had gotten terribly ill. I was feverish, pale and felt nauseous. My mother was worried and took me to the clinic. I was just diagnosed with the flu. I took my medicine and stayed in bed as best as possible but the final straw was when I fainted in the backyard while gardening. Since then, I had been in and out of hospital with different doctors viewing me like prize cattle. I was poked, prodded and dug at only to be told no one had a clue as to why I was sick. It was like it had just fallen upon me. My mother became even more obsessive in her Christian ways. I was blessed every weekend and prayed upon every day to try and heal my mysterious illness. I was forced to drink holy water at every opportunity and had to wear my cross necklace with two rosaries. 

Currently, I was coughing so hard I felt like I dislocated my lungs. My mother sat next to me holding my hand, a rosary wrapping around us. As I continued to cough she pushed some hair out of my face. “You’re going to be alright, honey. Just stay strong.”

After my coughing fit, I laid back and tried to catch my breath. “I feel like I’m dying.”

Her hand tightened around mine and I could feel her body shake with sobs. “Maybe this is God’s way of letting us know Adam needs you. As much as I’d hate to see my baby go, you’d finally fulfill your purpose.”

“Mom, please. Not now.”

“I’m sorry.”

A knock at the door made us both look over. There in the entryway stood Luci, his white hat with the dark red band hanging tightly in his hands. “Come in.”

He stepped forward and gave a small smile. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Y/n! Language!”

“Sorry.”

He chuckled and came to my side, putting a hand on my shoulder. “May I have a moment alone, please?”

My mom looked at me and I gave a curt nod. She sighed and stood. “I’ll go get something to eat. I’ll be back later, honey.”

She gave my forehead a kiss and walked out, shutting the door behind her. Luci took her place in the chair next to my bed. “What can I do for you, handsome?”

“I wanted to come see you. Hailey told me how you were faring and I knew I needed to come immediately.”

“I appreciate that. Especially since I feel like this may be the last time you see me.”

“Nonsense. We will always find each other, even in death.”

He brought his hand up and caressed my cheek. I smiled and then began coughing. I turned away and hacked into my arm, only turning back when I was done. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

His hand wrapped around mine and squoze tightly. “You know, I could end your suffering right now.”

“Yeah right.”

“I’m not lying to you, my dear. One small kiss and you’d go peacefully.”

“Luci-”

“And then we can be together forever. Adam, not even Heaven will keep you from me.”

“What are you talking about?” “Just kiss me.”

What could go wrong? I was already suffering so much.

“...Alright.”

He leaned forward and connected our lips. He tasted sweet like caramel apples and I just melted. My soul felt like it was being sucked out of my body and when he pulled away I couldn’t breathe. “You’re mine, little apple. Forever and always.”

He caressed my hand and my eyes closed.

The beeping of the heart monitor slowed and then faded to silence all together.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

in the sugar and spice universe, the boys know that she cams and i assume that she’s aware that her roommates watch, but does she know about ransom watching?

a/n: i. am. gnawing. at. my. cage.

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist

we’ve already established that his discovery of your little hobby was what ended your relationship. i imagine that he fell over your stream while just browsing for something to jerk off to and then BOOM, there you were. 

in true asshole fashion, he of course confronted you about it in a big ol fight:

“choose. come on. me or that.”

“ransom,” you sighed as he kept on pushing.

“come on,” he roared, “just pick goddamn it!”

“that!” you blurted as he kept on yelling, “i wanna keep camming!” though that statement hadn’t been what he’d predicted, “it makes me happy and you–…”

“…i don’t?”

“not lately…”

“well how else would you think i’d react to finding out my girl has secretly been whoring herself out to anyone with an internet connection?”

the slap you then crack against his cheek echoed throughout the whole room, “fuck you,” you spat, “don’t ever talk to me, don’t even look at me, ever again.”

and then you tried to stay as far away from him as possible even though i think he would have kept trying to worm his way back into your good graces (because he obviously fucked up)

you also moved in with steve, bucky and curtis after the breakup and i imagine they began to act as your bodyguards when it came to your ex. keeping an eye out and helping you avoid him at all costs. 

but the thing is, from the moment that he first discovered your stream, and honestly also as a way to lick his wounds post-breakup, he kept going back to it, kept opening up the website till it was permanently open on his phone, always ready for when you went live or posted something (a pic or vid or just flirty message)

it was like an addiction and he couldn’t stop

he wasn’t even ashamed about it because to him it was a way to keep your faded relationship alive, keep you with him and for a generous tip (which he could more than afford as the trust fund kid he was) you’d still do as he wished, still follow his sinful commands.

turn around, let me see that ass

be a good girl and turn up the speed

send me those panties after you’ve soaked them with your cream, i’ll pay double your usual rate for the underwear you sell.

did you know that TittyCokeKingXXX, one of your most loyal followers and top tippers, was your ex? hell no.

how would you finally discover his true identity? maybe it would be at a party you’re both at, a celebration after the football team’s latest victory (of which both your roomies steve and bucky are on, but unfortunately so is ransom) 

he probably gets too drunk and then the truth starts slipping out

maybe he thinks he still has a shot, but just as you turn him down, he gets petty and accidentally blurts out, “well you didn’t seem to have a problem with me last night when you were calling me sir and making yourself squirt in the shower.” 

the image of you crumbled on the tile floor, shower head blasting in your hand as you ripped it away from your overstimulated clit was still seared into his brain. tits all soapy, yet he could still make out the faint letters of the possessive scrawling he'd paid you to scribble with marker the week before reading daddy’s girl

“…how do you know that?” you uttered and he suddenly realised that he’d actually said those words out loud and not just thought them as usual, “ransom, how the fuck do you know that?”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[clonerightsagenda]

To celebrate space archives getting published I might as well post an abandoned short story from 3 years ago that deals with a lot of the same themes in a more concentrated way. This is my toxic yuri for 2025. Enjoy and see if you can remember the post I made about it back in 2022.

This Story Was Made Possible By Viewers Like You

I never liked confession cams.

You know, someone sits in a soundproof room with just the cameras and talks all teary-eyed about how they’ve struggled, and how they really feel, now that no one can hear. But of course someone can hear. You can. You’re there, in the room with them, a few months in the future and a hundred miles away. It’s all a performance. Everything is.  

I’m not doing that, ok? This is for me.

They came to the house with bags full of clothing and artificial smiles. They came with extra toothbrushes and half-constructed plans. They came with high hopes and already dented dreams.

I came with nothing. I was already there.

It started the same as always. They jumped when I greeted them and then stole glances at each other’s reactions. No one said anything back. I didn’t expect them to. I’d been getting everything ready. Twenty bedrooms, names on the doors. Lights on, temperature tweaked up there, down here, never quite comfortable. I’m very good at that part of my job.

That first arrival scene goes through a lot of editing. Cut out the boring bits, highlight the quirks that make contestants stand out. The details we highlight set the audience’s perception of each player. Create heroes, villains, characters. No one on these shows presents themselves as they really are. You get the construct.

Me? I get a little bit more.

Let’s skip the boring parts. They milled around for a while before finding their rooms. Most unpacked their clothes. One placed a photograph on her dressing table, angling it so it would be in easy view of the camera. A bid for sympathy, I figured, but my opinion wasn’t the one that mattered.

The files would have told me that her name was Gloria Martina Sosa, contestant ID seventeen, age twenty-nine, pronouns she/her. Employed in finance and competing because her mother needed to pay for a medical procedure. The files would tell me that, but I already knew.

This time, there was a container of chocolates on the table when Gloria inched down the hallway to the dining area. She was good at finding her way around the floorplan already, even though it was designed to send them circling in the wrong direction and bumping into each other. I wondered if they noticed.

She approached the chocolates cautiously. She knew it had to be a test. I knew she liked chocolate.

“Can –” She paused before old-fashioned manners asserted themselves. “May I have one?”

“Yes,” I said.

She slid her hand in. Then she hesitated again, fingers still reaching. “Would you like one?”

I checked to see if someone else had entered the room. Nothing on the visuals from any of the dining room cameras. She was the only one there.

She was talking to me.

“No,” I said, after an obvious pause. Then, because of the manners, “No thank you.”

Her fingers curled around a chocolate. “That was stupid of me.”

I didn’t need to answer that, so instead I thought about her motives. I couldn’t show favoritism; she should know that. Did she want to look empathetic for the audience? She wouldn’t win any points cozying up to me.

Maybe she meant it as a genuine kindness. It was early enough that she might not know better.

“Do you ever wish you could eat?” she asked. The chocolate was in her mouth, but her fingers folded and refolded the square of foil.

Why was she still talking to me? I couldn’t tell her it was against the rules – it wasn’t, officially. So I said, “This won’t make good television.”

Her eyes widened. She was thinking of all the time she’d wasted here, the time her competitors might have been using to build alliances or look for clues. She yanked the container of chocolates off the table and ran back toward the hallway. She’d use them as an offering, maybe, or a bargaining chip. She didn’t say thank you, or goodbye.

Why would she? I’m not a player. I’m the host.

#

I know how this sounds, so let me set the record straight. I’m not an artificial intelligence. People love to claim they’ve invented a thinking machine, but when you drill down to the bones of one you’ll always find an algorithm. Sure, this place runs on all sorts of automation, but at the end of the day, you need a human to come up with a wicked twist or make sure the tracking software doesn’t mix up Mateo and Benjamin because there was a mishap in the laundry room and they’re wearing each other’s clothes. AI doesn’t have the flexibility a project like this demands. I don’t think it ever will. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking, since if it happens, I’ll be out of a job. It’s not a great job (I’m making minimum wage here) but I don’t have to pay rent or buy groceries, so the money adds up.

There used to be a whole team – six-hour shifts, front-end and back-end crews – but budget cuts hit everywhere. It gets quiet sometimes, but at least I don’t have to make a big production of hiding when I’m going to the bathroom with a tampon. I do the best I can, drink a lot of coffee, and chalk any delays or mistakes up to a buggy operating system. There are surgeries you can get to keep you sharper – some employers insist on them – but I wouldn’t let anyone stick neurotech in my brain even if I could afford it. Too many horror stories. It’s easy to keep them thinking I’m a machine. I slap a voice filter on, and my disinterest in everyone’s drama means I don’t have to fake sounding inhumanly bored.

But enough about the woman behind the curtain. That’s not what anyone tunes in for.

#

About half the guests roamed the halls after dark the first night, which meant prowlers skulking around corners and smacking into each other. I downed two energy drinks and kept an eye out for the most entertaining close calls so I could cut them together later. On other nights I’d feel safe sneaking some sleep, but the first was always busy.

Gloria stayed in her room. Instead of climbing into bed right away, she knelt and whispered something in Spanish. The translation software would handle that for anyone who wanted to know what she was praying for. I could guess.

When she finished, she looked up. They’re never sure where to focus when they talk to me. I’ve learned to read that lost expression as a sign I’m about to be on call. “If I need something, do I just ask?”

“That’s correct.” When she didn’t say anything else, I continued, “Did you need something?”

“Not right now.” Not from me.

#

The next few weeks passed the usual way. Dean found an immunity stone hidden behind the false back of the pantry. Three different groups swore ill-fated alliances while pretending to be preoccupied with their laundry. The first contestants were voted off, mostly because of dismal challenge performances and in one case because Heather kept stealing other people’s toothpaste. (Luckily for me, I didn’t have to listen to them moping about being eliminated. The losers’ quarters had cameras, of course – everywhere does – but none of those feeds went to my workstation.)

Most of the time the participants treated me as so much background, but there are always exceptions. One afternoon Haruto and Farah were arguing about an inane piece of early twenty-first century pop culture trivia and wanted me to tell them who was right, and Anna was asking about the latest sports scores, and one of the microphones in the dining room wouldn’t connect right even though I’d run troubleshooting, and –

“Is Corey busy?”

I pressed the intercom button for Gloria’s room and said, “One moment, please.” Then I switched channels (click). “The home team won their last game 4 to 1.” Click. “Yes, it was the same actor; they used CGI to make him look younger.” Click. “Sorry for the delay.” I punched in Corey’s ID to pull up the last place the cameras had seen him. “A lot of guests are requesting my services right now.”

I don’t know what did it. Maybe a hint of exasperation crept into my tone, or the keystrokes filtered through the speakers, or a real sentient computer program wouldn’t apologize. Whatever tipped her off, Gloria’s eyebrows pulled down. It wasn’t an expression of surprise as much as it said, ‘I knew it’.  

“You’re not an AI,” she said. “Are you.”

Damn. I could have lied. The producers would’ve wanted me to, but they left me there to play the game however I chose. Besides, I’d already paused too long. A machine wouldn’t have to think about it.

“A lot of the answers are. There’s a library of canned responses for the most predictable questions. I’m here for the more complicated problems.”

“Here?” She spun her eyes around the room like I might pop out of a closet.

“On site. Behind the scenes.”

“But you can see and hear me?” She hunched in on herself. “I don’t like that.”

“You signed up to be on a TV show.”

“That’s different.”

Because I wasn’t an adoring fan. “Did you want an answer to your question?”

“You can see him too?” She was hung up on that considering the position she put herself in. The contracts they signed asked them to give away all sorts of control.

“I can see everyone. I’m not watching all the time, though. That’s part of the automation. I get notified when there’s activity that might be interesting.” I checked the relevant screen, which showed me the feed from camera 251. “He’s brushing his teeth.”

“Is that interesting?”

“Not according to the system.” Showering would be, because the system’s a pervert. So are the folks back home, although the editors make sure to frame things just right so that we can deny we’re showing anything explicit.

She sighed. She kept her head angled toward the floor, like denying the cameras eye contact preserved some sliver of her privacy. “I guess I can’t opt out.”

“Not until you go home. You could try to be less interesting, but it’ll cost you.” That strayed dangerously close to advice. “I’ll delete this conversation, though. Have to preserve my image.”

That got her head to pop up. “You can do that?”

I wiggled my fingers over the keyboard, a pointless gesture since she couldn’t see me. “As long as you’re in this building, I’m basically God.”

“God.” Her lip curled. I’d seen her praying earlier. Maybe my boast sounded like blasphemy. “What’s your name?”

“I can’t tell you. I’ve got rules. Sorry,” I added, repeating that human touch that betrayed me.

“I don’t know why I asked.” She looked away from the camera again. “Don’t watch me sleep.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She was pretty. But watching a pretty woman over the cameras isn’t automatically creepy. If it is, what does that say about you?

I tried to keep my word. Gloria wanted to believe she still had boundaries, and unlike our loyal viewers, I don’t get my kicks spying on people. Every so often, though, my eyes crept back to her square on my monitor. I knew so much about these people, and she was the only one who knew I existed. That knowledge was like a blinking notification that never went away.

#

I didn’t expect Gloria to talk to me again, and for a few days she didn’t. She sat in silence while I announced the day’s events or when other participants asked me questions, a frown mostly smoothed off her face. I saw it, though. That’s what she was frowning about.

Four days after our conversation, she was tearing her room apart looking for something. It’d been twenty minutes, and she wasn’t going to find it. I was waiting for her to figure that out. She groaned, tilted her head up, and asked, “Do you know where my charger is?”

“Under the sofa in the living room.”

She jumped. “That was fast.”

“Pretty good AI impression, right?” I hadn’t been watching her sleep, but I’d been paying attention. So sue me. If she decided to spill my secret, I’d have to… well, I didn’t know. It had never happened before.

“Is anyone else there right now?”

“Haruto and Farah.” Still arguing, somehow. Getting worked up about each other’s vintage cinema opinions was their version of entertainment.

She sighed and sat on the side of her bed. “I don’t want to get sucked into whether we need any more live action remakes. Can you tell me when they leave?”

“Sure.” Informal. I was slipping.

She drummed her ankles against the floor and then, with a huff, hopped up again and began straightening the mess she made. She wasn’t a woman who liked to be still. I wasn’t surprised when she broke the silence. “Does anyone else know?”

“If they’ve guessed, they haven’t said anything. This isn’t a test, or one of the puzzles you’re supposed to solve. You weren’t supposed to notice.”

She slammed a drawer. “Do you like spying on people?”

“That’s not what I’m doing.” She snorted. “It’s a job. A boring one, most of the time. Alerts tell me when any of you do something relevant, and then I cut the best footage together and send it back to the real editors. I’m not watching you every second. Who would want to?”

That got her to stop folding a shirt and look up at camera 387 so I’d be sure to see the disgusted expression on her face. “The fans?”

Fair point. “I forget about them sometimes.”

“I doubt your bosses would be happy to hear that.” She moved on to stuffing toiletries back into her bag, but her movements were less ferocious. “How did you end up working here?”

“I worked as set crew on a few smaller projects. I didn’t get training for it, but I’m good at picking up just enough to make myself useful.” That’s what kept me around through round after round of layoffs. I learned the bare bones of other people’s jobs, and upper management decided bare bones was enough. That kind of approach doesn’t make friends in the workplace, but neither does getting fired. And hey, it worked out that I’m not a team player. The only one on my team now is me.

“Do you like reality TV?”

“Hell no.” I couldn’t believe anyone would put up with the genre without getting paid for it. “But a job’s a job. Did you always dream about starring in something like this?”

She paused, clutching a bottle of perfume. “Not like this.” She took a bracing whiff – the label said orange vanilla, but smell is one thing I can’t piggyback on. “You’ll delete this?”

The start of our conversation was already flagged. “Speak freely.”

“I liked the romantic ones when I was younger. The fairy tale element; I read a lot of fairy tales growing up. Later I realized how artificial they were, but you keep hoping.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I told you that.”

Neither could I. Then again, they were encouraged to bare their souls for the cameras. It must be a hard habit to break. “Given the data I’ve collected, I think Anna is your one true love.”

Instead of laughing, she shoved the perfume into her bag. “I’m not here for that.”

“I know.”

She zipped up the bag, stood, and looked right at the camera, hands on hips. It was the closest I’d come to eye contact with someone in months. “How much do you know about me?”

“Mostly what’s in your files.” I reread them after she caught me. I had her entire application packet, every official scrap of information the network collected.

“And I don’t know anything about you.”

“You know I don’t like reality TV.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

She shot the question at me, and I responded reflexively. “Blue. At least it is now. I don’t see the sky much on this job.”

“Blue.” She digested that and looked past the cameras, up to the ceiling and the sky beyond that she’d only see through windows until the game was over. “I miss it too.”

“Now you know one thing about me. Happy?”

“Can I ask more, later?” She sucked her lower lip between her teeth; I think the question surprised her as much as it did me. “I don’t like being watched by a stranger. I can’t stop you watching, but I can stop you from being such a stranger.” A crafty spark entered her eyes. “You are here to answer our questions. That’s what they told us in orientation.”

They did tell them that. “I’ll do what I can,” I said. “But be careful. I don’t want everyone in the house asking me for my biography.”

#

Gloria was the one on camera, but she was the one who forgot herself. She was standing in the kitchen running a plate under the water when she looked toward a camera and asked, “What do you eat?”

“Uh,” said Benjamin, waiting for his turn at the sink. “Are you talking to me?”

“Based on existing data, Benjamin enjoys soy-based products and fresh fruit,” I said in my best automaton voice.

At least she caught on quick. “Thank you,” she said, and went back to rinsing pasta sauce off her dishes.

After she retreated to her room, she said, “I’m guessing I’m not supposed to socialize with you.”

“There aren’t any rules against it,” I said, which wasn’t a no, and then followed it up with, “It’s not the most strategic use of your time,” which wasn’t a yes.

“I need a break from everything out there sometimes. At least I know what you’re lying about.”

Safer not to comment on that one. Besides, she was still going.

“Mateo is always trying to make sure the cameras get his good side; you know he’s here to make a name for himself. And Anna keeps talking about how she wants to buy her own automated mansion, like she can’t imagine going back to having to manually turn on the lights. They’re so trivial. It makes me want to toss them out a window and tell them to come back when they have something serious to compete for.”

I didn’t comment on that either, but I could’ve. The truth was, at least half the participants needed the money for reasons beyond popularity contests or tech upgrades. It didn’t matter. If I told her, she wouldn’t think they deserved it as much as she did. Even without the files, I could have read her life story in her unblemished skin and name brand outfits. She’d never sweated through record-breaking summers because during surge periods companies always cut off the poorest neighborhoods first. She wrinkled her nose at the cricket flour crackers in the pantry like someone who had the luxury to leave food on her plate. She had no idea how many people watched her and wished they could take her place – not for a chance at a cash prize or fifteen minutes of fame, but just to have a safe place to sleep and enough to eat. When people watch shows like this, it’s not about rooting for an individual, not really. It’s about constructing elaborate narratives about themselves. Wanting participants, wanting to be them: there’s not much of a difference in the end. They’re all different flavors of consumption. Some players catch on faster and embrace being the product.

But Gloria was used to being on the other side of the equation. She’d been comfortable her whole life, and this medical bill was the first time she hadn’t had enough to make the world work the way she wanted. So she came running here for a fairy tale ending, because of course she was entitled to that along with everything else.

You’d think people like me who’ve been struggling their whole lives would fight hardest, but people like that? They get vicious.

Instead I said, “So you’re saying it’s nice to talk to me.”

“It’s a change.”

I minimized camera 16’s window where Richard and Destiny are gearing up to either start a fight or swap spit. Hard to tell with those two. “What do you want to talk about?”

“What do you think of us? You watch us all day.”

“Not all day, I told you. Honestly it’s – did you ever work customer service?” Her eyebrows jumped. I could’ve guessed that too. “Well, in that kind of job, you don’t pay much attention to individuals. You’re all one big crowd. Of course, you’re also my only live entertainment. Could you do anything more interesting?”

“Any suggestions?”

“Steal Corey’s watch.”  

She laughed. Corey told everyone who would listen how expensive his custom-made timepiece was. His audience hung on to every word, although they were mostly hanging on to his cheekbones. “That won’t get me any votes.”

“I’d vote for you.”

“You mean you’re not charmed by him?”

“Not my type.”

“Not mine either.”

I know, I thought, but I didn’t say it. She didn’t like to be reminded.

#

Gloria didn’t steal Corey’s watch. The next time he made a production of giving someone the time she looked right at the nearest camera, and I almost choked on my protein bar laughing.

After she left that conversation, she slipped into her room and leaned against the door. “You always delete the video when I’m talking to you, right?”

“It wouldn’t do me any good to send it on.”

Her shoulders loosened. It was surprising, and a little gratifying, that my presence now made her relax. “In the real world, you’re pressured to be doing something useful with every second of your life. In here, every second you’re performing for the cameras. It’s nice to be able to stop.”

I covered a yawn with one hand and reached for my coffee. “At least you get regular rest periods. I can’t give you details, but some people were keeping me up last night.”

She frowned. “Would you rather I let you go?”

The frown was also gratifying. “No, there’s enough I need to monitor right now anyway. Just keep your activities within regular business hours. That’ll make you a model participant in my book.”

“I’ll try.” She settled onto her bed and stretched her arms over her head, bending back the wrists. Then she asked, abruptly, “Do you have a favorite guest?”

“I’m not supposed to pick favorites. I won’t name names, but my least favorite is someone who starts whistling when they’re trying to concentrate. I always get the tune stuck in my head.”

“I’d hate that too.” She dropped her arms down and rested her hands in her lap. “It doesn’t seem fair. You get to see all of us, and I don’t get to see you.”

“It’s for the best that you can’t.” I shifted in my chair where I was sitting cross-legged in sweatpants I’d been wearing for three days straight. “I don’t have to be presentable to anyone back here. My hair’s a mess.”

She shrugged. “It would be nice to see any new face. Can you tell me what you look like?”

“Better not.” There weren’t any rules against that either – no one would’ve thought we needed them. But I wasn’t there to be looked at. “Just… imagine me. Whatever you’d like.”

She thought for a moment and then said, “You look nice.”

“Thank you.”

#

For the next month, I watched from my hundreds of cameras and listened through my hundreds of microphones. I scoured test banks for trivia questions and rearranged the responsive floor plan to build obstacle courses. I beamed everything back to our viewers, and the network compiled data to send back. Their demands were predictable. So-and-so is popular; be sure to get close-ups. Contestants X and Y don’t get along. Trap them in a room together with a malfunctioning door. Sometimes the instructions were specific, but often they just told me what the audience wanted. By now, I knew how to get it.

While I did that, I watched Gloria. She was average, as these things go. She lasted longer than half the participants in a challenge where I cranked the temperature lower and lower. Then she flopped when asked to identify the fake headline in a social media feed. She nodded to cameras with a half-smile, and although she could be doing it for the viewers, I couldn’t help but wonder if she was doing it for me.

She stayed kinder than I expected, even as everyone dropped the niceties and the game turned into a bloodbath of votes and eliminations. I’m not usually wrong reading people. I have so much to go on.

She kept talking to me late at night. Participants are promised some privacy in their bunks. (If they read their contracts line by line they know better. Viewers get very interested whenever a player invites someone else in. That was happening in two locations, so it was easy to cover up my own indiscretions.)

“Do you know what’s happening back home?

“Only what the network sends me.” I didn’t miss it. Participants signed up for fame or money, but escape would work as well. At least locked in this house, the problems weren’t real. You knew the challenges were fake, and everyone went to bed with a full stomach at the end of the day. It’s not a bad gig, really.

“I don’t know how my mother’s doing.” She was staring at the ceiling instead of making virtual eye contact with me. “Sometimes I’m afraid I won’t get back in time. It feels like it’s been longer than a few weeks.”

She didn’t seem to be waiting for a response. They were encouraged to think out loud for the cameras.

#

Nine weeks into this round of the game, she was in trouble. We didn’t talk about it. I was supposed to be her refuge from all that. Ridiculous, if you think about it, but we all have our illusions. She didn’t have access to viewer opinion polls or other players’ confessions, but I could tell from the way she held herself that she knew. If she didn’t win this week’s challenge, she was gone.

That shouldn’t have bothered me. I don’t pick favorites. Players come and go and nothing changes. Except…

I used to talk to my coworkers’ empty chairs to hear my own voice. I erased crosswords and started them again. The job without Gloria would be… boring. I didn’t want to look across all my monitors and not see her there.

I’ve never related to the viewers who root for their favorite contestant. This was different. They’re behind a screen watching the edited version of a woman from miles away, a woman who doesn’t even know they exist. I knew her. She knew me.

She didn’t ask for my help. I’d like to imagine she respected my integrity or didn’t want to risk my job, but I saw the way she threw herself into trying to shore up shaky alliances, too little too late. She’d rather rely on herself. I might be the all-seeing eye and the voice in her ear when she went to sleep, but when it comes to playing the game, no one pays attention to the help.

My inbox dinged. The network was responding to my latest batch of video. I skimmed through it: suggestions for contrived scenarios to start people fighting, instructions to let the showers break down, standard stuff. Then, at the end: We need new topics for this week’s trivia challenge. Any ideas?

The challenges got repetitive after a while. Production was always looking for suggestions. I opened a reply, started typing, and then paused.

I could help. No one would know. Gloria would be here, with me, for another week.

It wouldn’t be my first case of workplace dishonesty. I’d fibbed on timesheets and extended my breaks like everyone has. I’d kept my mouth shut and let coworkers take the fall for my mistakes. This was interference with the outcome of the show, though. I could get fired.

Who was going to catch me? Me?

I typed, What about fairy tales?

#

Gloria was exultant. She won the trivia challenge, securing her place for the week and spurring a nasty double cross in an alliance that had been planning on forcing her out. She paced back and forth in her room, rehashing her triumph. I responded with customer service hmms. It didn’t occur to her that I might be behind the convenient choice of topics. Which was fine. If she realized, she might let it slip, or expect more favors, and I’d risked enough already. It was fine that I was everywhere controlling everything and she still acted like she had no idea. People like her are the same everywhere. They assume the world runs itself.

“If I win next week’s challenge and Richard and Destiny stay on bad terms, I have a chance,” she said. “I could win.”

I didn’t say much in response. Maybe she thought I was being careful not to spill any show secrets, or maybe to her I was just another audience member witnessing her triumph. I’d had so much time to watch and still had trouble reading her.

I’m not omniscient, is the point. I never had the power to read her mind or control her or even save her in the end. I was only ever buying time.

I’d built a habit of letting emails pile up and answering them when I felt like it, but now I never closed my inbox. I took my phone with me on bathroom breaks or rare trips outside. Of course, if the network found out what I’d done, they might not bother with professional communication. They might send a crew in with no notice to throw me out on my ass.

That dampened my enthusiasm as Gloria dreamed of making the final three. Household malfunctions rose. I got jumpy. Anna asked me a question, and I froze, because for a moment I thought I’d been caught. A spam email snuck through my filter, and I spilled my energy drink all over the keyboard when I heard the notification. I wanted to scream through the intercoms, Don’t you know what I can do? What I’ve already done? You don’t even know that I’m here.

Instead I turned the heat up two degrees and reassured Anna that she’d buttoned up her dress correctly.  

#

In the end, I didn’t get caught. The shutdown order came for different reasons. Mateo, a fan favorite, had settled into a committed relationship. The move wasn’t popular with viewers. They liked him as a heartbreaker with someone else in his bunk every night. I don’t get the appeal, but ratings are ratings.

End the game, wipe their memories, and start over, the message said, with a list of new parameters to try. Just like the last four times I got this email. Neurotech sure has expanded the boundaries of reality programming.

Like I said, I’ve got horror stories.

I flicked through the changes. The bulk were new living arrangements and challenges tailored to different participants’ skills. The true appeal was more pathos for viewers to sigh over, as former lovers betrayed each other and friends met again as strangers. They eat it up so much I wonder if the game will ever end.

Maybe I should be happy about that. It’s job security.

I could see Gloria out of camera 43. She was selecting a meal packet and humming to herself. I wanted to warn her, to say that every time before this she’d become someone shut off or brittle or cruel, and that I liked her better this way. I wanted to tell her it’d been thirteen months since she saw her mother, not two. I wanted to ask if she had any idea. But I signed a contract too.

Instead I waited until after lights out and said, “Let me show you something.”

Gloria trusted me enough by now that she waited until I’d directed her to a blank stretch of wall to ask, “Why did you bring me here?”

“If you compare the interior to the outside of the house, this can’t be an exterior wall. There’s too much space. You didn’t notice?”

“I didn’t.”

She did in three of the other versions. Gloria had rarely been a model participant. She’d explored more, discovered more, when she wasn’t talking to me. “When people do, I tell them it’s not part of the game. It’s where we keep some of the machinery used to run the facilities.”

“What’s really on the other side?”

“Me.”

She started at that, looking from the camera to the wall and back again, like she assumed I lived in the fiber optics. “You’re there?”

“In my own set of apartments. It’s roomy now that I’m the only one. There’s a side door, so I even get a little sun sometimes. There’s a lot of machinery back here with me, though. We try not to lie when we can tell part of the truth. Makes it easier to keep track of everything.”

She reached out and presses her hand to the chipped paint of the wall. “You were always right here.”

“Hang on, I’m at a different terminal.” I hopped out of my chair and squeezed myself between my desk and the one that used to belong to Paulo before the last round of cutbacks. “Now I’m right there.” I was simplifying things, of course. There was at least a foot of wires and paneling between us, but it was still the closest we’d ever been. I reached out to press my hand to the wall and imagined the touch of another human’s skin against my own.

This was my last chance to tell the truth. I could reveal everything, lead her to the emergency exit only I knew about, and invite her to run away with me to… what? We were both there because we needed something, and the world won’t give you anything for free. In this house, blasphemy or not, I was basically God. I could steer her away from danger. I could construct a narrative. Outside, I couldn’t create a happy ending for either of us.

From what I knew of Gloria Martina Sosa, the many possible Gloria Martina Sosas who had walked under this roof, she would hate me for keeping this from her.

It was a good thing she didn’t know me at all.

“Why did you decide to tell me now?” she asked.

There were a lot of things I could have said. Because this version of you dies tomorrow. Because there are bigger rules I won’t break, and I want to believe I’m a person who would break some of them, for you. Because I’m saying goodbye, and you don’t even know it.

“Because we’re getting close to the end now,” I said. “You’ll be too busy soon to think about me.”

“It’s hard to not think about you when you’re watching all the time. Especially now that I know exactly where you are.” She ran her fingers across the paint before pulling away. “Maybe when this is over I’ll be able to see you face to face.”

I couldn’t hesitate. If I hesitated, she might guess something is wrong, and my entire job relied on returning polished answers with mechanical precision. “That would be nice.” I was using my work voice, all business. “You should get back to bed before anyone wonders why you’re up.”

She smiled – at the wall rather than the camera. She might have been looking toward me, but that means she didn’t meet my eyes. “Are you worried about my beauty sleep?”

“Rest is important,” I said. “I’m not supposed to have favorites, but I’m rooting for you.”

Thanks to my instructions, she made it back without running into anyone, turning corners and ducking into rooms without a word of protest. Once I delivered her to her room, she dimmed the lights and slipped into bed to while away the last few hours this version of her would ever see.

I watched her fall asleep, and I didn’t say a word.

Maybe next time.

#

They were called in for a medical check-up the next morning. “Is this a challenge?” Gloria asked while getting dressed.

“No,” I said. “It’s perfectly normal.” The producers would be pleased. I’d never sounded less human.

#

Teardown procedure between rounds was always the same. I filled out the standard paperwork and finished packaging the last days of footage to be shipped back to the editors. My email inbox could be thinned out. I’d gotten practiced, and none of the tasks took long. Then it was just me, the empty house, and Gloria’s ghost roaming the silent halls.

If you look at it right, I’m doing her a favor. Outside the house, the monsters are so much worse than me. People want to be you, or have you, and they’ll eat you alive. People who grew up like me would understand. They might even ask me to do the same for them.

I don’t know why I’m bothering to justify myself. My job is to watch and record, not to editorialize. There’s no reason for me to sit down in front of the camera and say, My name is Cal, and there’s nothing I could have done. But I guess I’ve caught the narrative bug after watching everyone else spin out their stories, because here I am making my recording. Wishing there was someone on the other side of the screen to turn me into someone new.

I have no illusions that I would be an audience favorite. That’s never been my role.

An email with the finalized set-up for round six arrived in my inbox, and I scanned it so I’d be prepared. There will be no chocolates next time. Every round, the producers try something different. But I will say hello, and maybe this time she will say it back.

#

They come to the house with bags full of clothing and artificial smiles. They come with extra toothbrushes and half-constructed plans. They come with high hopes and already dented dreams.

I come with nothing. I was already here.

[fallen-w1ngs]

'' flower shop of new feelings ,,

[ 06 : bad feeling ]

|| pairing : james "bucky" barnes x florist!reader

|| warning : nothing !... maybe

|| wc : 1.1k (real short , sorry gang )

Ever since Peter agreed to hide Bucky’s secret friend, again he still didn’t get why he was hiding you, but he was getting 20 bucks richer every week! He wasn’t going to complain. But, as said before, ever since he’d been sworn to secrecy, Bucky and him have been talking more.

Or, an alternative way of saying it, Peter’s been annoying Bucky a bunch.

“When’d you even meet them?” Again, asking about you.

“Clint’s birthday.”

“Really? I didn’t see ‘em”

“Got his birthday gift from them.”

“Ohhh, you’re the one who got Mr. Barton the flowers!” Peter snapped his fingers and had a wide grin tugging at his lips. “Wait, so.. You’ve known them for 3 months??”

Bucky bit back a small sigh as he grabbed a weight and started to do his usual work out routine as he hummed in response, a confirmation of sorts.

“Then why haven’t you introdu–”

“Peter.” He shot a small glare at the teenager, his eyebrow twitched for a moment. “If you wanna know more, you could just ask them.”

Peter huffed and picked up a weight as well, imitating whatever Bucky was doing. “Well, I want to, but every night they come home from work they look EXHAUSTED. I mean, you’d think running a flower shop’s not all too bad, but I mean you should really see them!”

“Okay, then ask them over text.”

“.. I don’t have their number, only Aunt May does.”

“Then ask your aunt.”

“But you’re right here!”

“And you live with your aunt, what���s your point?”

“Well-” Peter cut himself off before sighing. Fiddling around with the weight in his hand. “I mean, I don’t wanna ask Aunt May, she’ll tell them I asked then it’ll be awkward.”

“What if I tell them?”

“I know you won’t!”

“And why is that, exactly?” Bucky put down the weight and raised their eyebrow in confusion. As well as some curiosity. Bucky is like a lock, only one key can unlock his secrets, and that key is rusted, dusted and thrown away to the deepest dark of the ocean.

“‘cause then they’ll know you talk about them, and you have a crush on them.”

…

At that moment it was as if Bucky was frozen in ice again. He didn’t dare even take a breath. A crush? First of all, what are they? Kindergarteners, why call it a crush? Second of all.. NO. What?! He does not have a crush on you! That’s actual crazy talk. You’re just a friend, like- like Steve, but not like Steve.

“That’s false.” was all he could utter out before trudging over to the next things he used for his workouts.

“Whaaatt? But.. What??” Peter put the weight down and followed Bucky, as if he were his mama duck. Haha, Ducky-Bucky. “You hide them for 3 months, from what I hear from Mr. Wilson, you stay out longer than usual ‘cause of them a-and you pay me not to tell anyone about them.”

“Because I know how much everyone gossips, Peter. Now buzz off. I need t’get ready for a mission.”

“Awh, man.” Peter scratched the back of his neck and sighed dramatically as he started to walk away, like a kicked puppy. “You’re lucky Mr. Stark told me I had to do some extra assignment, or else I’d be here asking you all about [Name].”

“Yeah, yeah, get outta here, punk.” He muttered, almost as if saying it to no one. As much as he tolerated Peter more than some of the other Avengers, he still needed his me time. People were tiring, Especially these people.

–

It was as if time had barely passed yet stayed still at the same time. Bucky, Natasha, Sam and Wanda were on the Quinjet as of right now. Man, how he’d wish to God he was back home. Look, he respected everyone on the plane. Sam wasn’t someone Bucky’d go out of his way to hang out on a regular, but he likes him better than Tony. Natasha and Wanda, he saw the two as someone he could sort of relate to. Natasha being a part of Hydra and a trained assassin for them unwillingly, and Wanda was an experiment for Hydra.

Small comrodaries in trauma.

All things considered though, he’d be doing anything but being on this flight. All that the four would do was beat up some people, find intel on some enhanced people they’d gotten a tip about, and figure out if they’re a danger or not.

Thinking about that wasn’t what Bucky was preoccupied with though, no. His thumbs were occupied by texting you. Thankfully, the quinjet was big enough for him to text in his own corner of the aircraft.

florist : we can have a movie night, my place if you want! when you get back?

james : only if you want to.

florist : i’ll provide the snacks if you pick the movie <3

That stupid looking heart did wonders on his heart.

james : how about a comedy?

florist : my, my james! i didn’t think you’d want a comedy! with how stoic you act all the time LMAO

james : even i need a laugh sometimes.

The main reason was ‘cause he wanted to hear your laugh.

“Prepare for landing, gang!” Natasha yelled to the group. Oh, great, mission starting soon. Bucky stood up from the metal flooring of the quinjet and shot you one last text before powering his phone off:

james : mission time. i’ll text you when i’m back.

–

You stared at the text on your screen for what felt like ages. You didn’t know why, but that text made you feel.. Anxious. Worried, all the bad feelings. Sure, Bucky was a super soldier AND an Avenger.. But you knew of the dangers, of the threats. He’s still only human.

But, you pushed your emotions aside and texted back, even though you knew he wouldn’t get it back until after the mission.

florist : goodluck, james. <3

Okay. Before we start, yes.. You may have a small, itty bitty, miniscule, super insignificant crush on Bucky. I mean, who doesn’t? He’s tall, muscular, and a quiet giant. And he actually LISTENED to you. He liked to listen to your yaps, and when you think it doesn’t get better, IT DOES! Because he actually remembers the details.

Bucky’s sweet, patient and kind. Despite the rough edges, he’s a good person. Even if he didn’t think that.

A small sigh left your lips as you clicked your television on and started to drift asleep,letting your anxieties and worries melt away with the old British narrator guy talking about “the three toed sloths” on the tv. Your dreams consisted of darkness, flowers, and warmth.

You were calm in your voided dreams, unaware of what the hell was going on with James.

|| smiles deviously, deviously smiles !!

taglist : @iyskgd , @highhopes1008

[mypoisonedvine]

𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒 || eddie munson x reader

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 || sometimes, the best things happen when you're a little late.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 || 2.7k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 || implied smut/established relationship (18+), unplanned pregnancy, reader's parents are controlling, no descriptions of pregnancy/childbirth, dad!eddie, implied preppy/rich reader but it's not discussed much

this is just a short and sweet little fic based on a random idea I had, totally different from what I normally do but I hope y'all like it!!

“Hey pumpkin,” he purred as you sat on his desk, resting one of those beautiful ringed hands on your thigh.  You had been practicing how you were going to say this all weekend and now you felt like you’d forgotten it somehow; he had that effect on you.

Taking a deep breath, you saw his eyes narrow for a second and his head tilt— he knew something was up, but he didn’t have to ask what before you blurted it out: “I’m late.”

He frowned and looked at the clock on the classroom wall; “It’s still three minutes until class?” he observed.

“Eddie…” you whispered, feeling so— something.  This crazy feeling you’d had for days now; this weird, nervous, insecure kind of feeling.  This oh my god is this happening to me feeling.  

He looked at you, waiting for more context, and you chewed your lip as you looked away.  Then he seemed to get it, and his chest sunk.  “O-oh, fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“I— okay,” he breathed, leaning in closer to you.  “Like… how late?”

“Four days?”

“Shit,” he hissed, glancing out the window and back at you— like there was gonna be someone standing outside holding up a sign for him that would tell him what to say.  But there wasn’t, and he obviously had no fucking idea what to say.  “Shit,” he said again.

“Yeah,” you also said again.

He stood up from his desk, lowering his voice and standing closer to you so (hopefully) only you could hear; thankfully nobody else seemed to be paying either of you much attention, just trying to get ready for class.  You wished you could think about class right now.  “What do we— I mean, how do we— I— when will you know?  Like, for sure?”

Even with all this fear (and nausea) swirling inside you, you still almost swooned at those big brown eyes, looking at you like this.  You could tell he was terrified, just as much as you, but he couldn’t hide the small edge of excitement— as much as this is supposed to be every young guy’s worst nightmare, you knew a part of him was thrilled at the chance of it.

You were too, though you were too embarrassed to admit that even to yourself.  It was horribly misguided; your parents didn’t even know you’d been seeing Eddie, because you’d figured they would have a heart attack if they knew.  This was going to be armageddon— if it was really going to happen.  You were still hoping it was just an unpredictable period and a whole lot of wasted emotion.

“I won’t know for sure until I go to a doctor,” you answered, “but I can’t really do that without tipping off my parents…”

“I’ll drive you,” he decided.

“And… if it’s…?” you dared to mumble, nervously glancing down, preparing for him to answer that he would drive you to a different doctor…

Instead, he opened his mouth and the bell rang.  “We’ll talk about that later,” he decided.  

“Okay,” you breathed.  “I— yeah, we’ll talk about it.  We’ll… figure something out.”

He pulled you in for a kiss suddenly, and it soothed you a bit as you melted into his arms.  The teacher cleared her throat; “I’d oblige you to return to your own classroom, Miss?” she instructed.

Eddie didn’t let you go quite yet, though, holding your face and looking at you closely.  “It’s gonna be okay,” he promised.  “No matter what happens, it’s gonna be okay.  Okay?”

“Okay.”

He kissed your forehead one more time as he hugged you, and then you took your leave, back to your class, where you had no hope of focusing.

~

“If you do— I mean, if it is—” he kept stopping and starting over— “and if it’s mine—”

“Eddie!” you frowned, smacking him on the arm.

“Sorry, sorry— I know you’re not— sorry,” he mumbled, “I just mean… that’s my baby.  Our baby.”

You bit your lip.

“I-if it is, you know, there, I mean,” he mitigated.

“Okay, so if it is— if I am… what do you want me to do?” you asked.

“Whatever you need to do,” he nodded.  “Whatever’s right for you.  I mean, I know your parents…”

He trailed off, and you raised your brows as you nodded.  “Yeah…”

“So if you have to… I understand,” he insisted.

“But what do you want me to do?” you asked again.

He chewed his lip.  “It’s your choice.”

“I know,” you groaned, “but if you could choose what I was going to do for me—”

“Which I would never do,” he announced proudly.

“What would you hypothetically want me to do if it was up to you?” you pressed.  “And don’t say I should do what’s best for me,” you warned, causing him to shut his mouth which he’d just opened.

“I… uh, well, I guess…” he stalled, looking down; but you could tell he already knew what he wanted, he was just trying to find the courage to say it.  Getting a serious look on his face, he finally admitted it: “I’d want you to keep it.  I’d want us to… have it, raise it.”

You sighed, smiling with relief— you felt the same way, but didn’t want to say it first, in case it pressured him into feeling like he had to be involved.  And the last thing you wanted was to raise a baby with someone only there out of obligation.

“I know we’re young, and it’s sooner than either one of us wanted this to happen,” he continued, “but I don’t… I don’t want you to think of our baby as a mistake.  Not planned, sure, a little unexpected… but if we do this, it’s not a mistake.  It’s two people who love each other starting a family together.”

He stepped closer to you, holding your hands tightly as you smiled.

“But that’s just if I was in charge of everything, which I’m not,” he laughed.  

“No, that’s what I want, too,” you admitted.  “But, if that’s gonna happen, I have to tell my parents first.”

Eddie blew out a long breath that inflated his cheeks.  “Yeah.  Good luck with that.”

You raised an eyebrow, and he coughed.

“Uh, I mean— I’ll come with you, if you want, obviously.  Your dad doesn’t own any guns, right?”

You laughed a little, leaning forward to rest your head on his chest with a sigh.  “He won’t literally kill you, Ed— but I think I should do it myself, just so they have a chance to meet you when things are less… emotional, I guess.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, kissing the top of your head and petting your hair as you leaned on him.  “S’gonna be okay, pumpking, even if they get mad at first.”

You nodded, replying “I know,” but you didn’t really know.  You had this sick feeling in your stomach, terrified of how they would react— especially considering you’d already been formally banned from seeing Eddie anymore.

You waited, of course, to tell them until you were late enough that something had to be said— actually, they nearly figured it out once the sudden bouts of nausea began.  If either of you had known what would happen after they found out, you would’ve cherished that time before more carefully.

one year later…

It took about half a second for Wayne to figure it out, seeing you on his doorstep with a baby on your hip.

His nephew had been listless ever since you left, and it took him a while to even say what was going on— but after a few times of innocently asking if that girl’s ever gonna come around again, Wayne finally assumed that you’d dumped him.  But apparently, it was far worse than that; when he had a few beers in him, Eddie told the whole story about how a broken condom led to a missed period and about a dozen positive at-home tests.  And that, apparently, wasn’t the issue— he admitted he’d wanted to go through with it, offered to marry you, got excited about having a child even if he felt totally overwhelmed at the idea of becoming a father.

I figured I could do it better than mine, Eddie told his uncle, a little somber smile on his face, and that made me feel better.  Kind of a low bar, but still.  I’d’ve done anything for that baby… for our baby…

But that was when he got choked up and struggled to say much more, until Wayne eventually pulled it out of him.  Her parents, man, they hate me— guess I can understand why, ‘cept they never even met me.  She told ‘em and they just went ballistic.  And they… she’s gone.

‘Gone’ as in, shipped off to live with extended family in another state and, presumably, have the pregnancy quietly ‘taken care of’.  You’d told him from the start that’s probably what they’d do, or at least make you give it up for adoption.  They told their country club and cotillion friends you were studying abroad, to save the shame of admitting their daughter was knocked up by a trailer park freak.

Well, apparently Eddie had been slightly wrong about what happened to the baby after you disappeared, and now, here you were.  And Wayne was staring at you, with that sweet-but-slightly-terrified look in your eyes.

“Is Eddie here?” you asked meekly; because what else would you ask?

Wayne sighed.  “No, he’s at work— he’ll be back in an hour.”

Your eyes lit up a little, even through all that fear you had on your face.  “He has a job?”

“Yeah, at the oil change place on Main,” Wayne nodded.  “You can wait for him here, if you don’t mind.”

You smiled a little; “F’course I don’t,” you assured, “and… well, I figured you might wanna meet her, too.”

Wayne smiled back, feeling like he was finally allowed to address the adorable, chubby-cheeked elephant in the room.  

“Say hi to Uncle Wayne,” you instructed the baby sweetly, and she smiled but tucked her face into your shoulder.

“Hi, beautiful,” he smiled at her, waving with just the tips of his fingers.  “Wow, got your daddy’s eyes, don’tcha?”

You felt your face warm as he noticed it— of course, it wasn’t like there was much chance this was anybody else’s baby, but knowing that Wayne knew made you slightly nervous he would judge you somehow (since everyone else had).  Instead, he brought you both inside and started making tea.

~

When Eddie’s van pulled up outside the trailer, you glanced at Wayne nervously.  He nodded towards the door, adding, “I’ll watch her— just go.”

Your legs were a little shaky as you stood up off the couch, but you did your best to breathe normally as you opened the door and stepped out onto the lawn.

Eddie was getting groceries out of the back of his van, and your heart rate picked up even more as you waited for him to see you; you worried he wouldn’t want to, after you disappeared on him.  You’d never had a chance to say goodbye, to explain what was going on or why you were leaving… he could hate you, if he wanted, for abandoning him.

But when he did see you, and you shyly shrugged a little as you waited for a reaction, he dropped the grocery bags on the ground and ran to you.

“Oh my god!” he laughed excitedly, pulling you into a tight bear hug.  “Pumpkin, I thought I might never see you again…”

You hugged him back, wanting to think of something to say but getting too caught up in holding him again, in burying your face in his soft shirt and smelling his cologne; this was all you’d been thinking about for most of the last year.

“I missed you so much,” Eddie began as he let you go for a moment, looking at you like he wanted to be sure you were really here, “and I wanted to call, or write or something, but I couldn’t— I guess you couldn’t either— and I barely got out of bed for a week after you left, just ask Wayne— how long have you been waiting?  Are your boobs bigger?”

You started to laugh, covering your face with your hands and Eddie’s laughed thinly as his face tinted pink.

“Sorry, I didn’t wanna say anything,” he mumbled, “but like, they’re bigger, right?”

You nodded.  “Yeah— it’s ‘cause I’m breastfeeding…”

He blinked quickly, and you bit your lip as you waited for a reaction.  “I thought— I figured your parents had made you— I— pumpkin,” he breathed, and your heart twisted.  “Is this really…?  I mean, I’m not dreaming, am I?”

You shook your head.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t visit before— I wanted you to meet her so bad, I just—”

“Her?” he repeated, and you only started to choke up when you saw the tears in his eyes; you nodded.  “I— oh my god, I love you,” he said simply, wiping a tear off his cheek before hugging you again— not as tight as before but somehow warmer and sweeter.

“I love you too,” you whispered, “I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry I couldn’t call, I swear I wanted to but—”

“Don’t be sorry for anything, okay?” he interrupted you, kissing the top of your head as he began to rock you side to side in the hug.  “I’m just so happy you’re here…”

“Sh-she’s here too,” you blurted out, making him freeze and look down at you.  “She’s inside, with Wayne, if you wanna…?”

He sniffled as he wiped another tear away; “Y-yeah, of course… of course I do, wow, yeah.  Okay.”

“I-it’s okay if you’re not ready yet,” you assured, but he laughed.

“Are you kidding?  I’ve been waiting for this since… I don’t even know how long— since you sat on my desk in Science class…”

You beamed and hugged him again before you walked together into the trailer.

When you and Eddie stepped inside, Wayne was bouncing her on his knee— she was reaching up to grab his face, a new favorite hobby of hers, and he scrunched up his nose and closed one eye as her little hands explored his rough, stubbly features.  Eddie already looked overcome with emotion just watching the scene before him, staring forward at her with a slack mouth and shiny eyes, and he hadn’t even seen her face yet; when you shut the door, the sound made her turn her head to look back at you.  He was still speechless, walking forward slowly and kneeling down in front of Wayne’s feet.  Wayne turned her to face him better, and Eddie wordlessly reached up towards her; she grabbed hold of one of his fingers, and he smiled and sniffled as he looked at her tiny fist and back up to her face.  “Hi there,” he greeted quietly.

“Eddie… this is Emily,” you introduced them quietly, and Eddie beamed as he glanced at you for a second before looking at her again.

“Hello, Emily,” he said, “I’m Eddie— I mean, dad.  I’m Daddy.  Nice to meet you.”

You snorted at how formal it was, but still had to wipe a tear from your eye.

“Can I hold her?” he asked quietly, nervously.

“Of course,” you breathed, almost heartbroken that he could ever imagine not being allowed to hold her— but then again, he never got to see her, or even know she existed, until now.

Wayne handed her off to Eddie, who put his hands under her arms— she was still so small, his grasp almost covered her whole body.  Standing up and taking her with him, Eddie stared at her for a moment with the most amazed smile on his face; she reached for that very face, and he laughed as she held on tight to his nose.

You were wondering if you’d have to guide him in how to hold her, but as he pulled her into a hug, he impressed you with how experienced he already looked— he looked like a dad, and he’d only been doing it for less than a minute.  It made your heart so full, finally seeing them together, finally seeing your baby in her father’s arms, finally feeling like your family was complete.

He bounced her in his arms, kissing her head and face, tears still striping his cheeks.  Hi baby, hi beautiful, hi gorgeous, hi Emily, he kept whispering to her.  Daddy loves you so much.  Daddy missed you.  

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Monster Part 3

Description: Part Three of the monster series

Here is the other parts: Monster Part Two

Word Count: 2,252

Author’s note: I will not be updating this until season 5

Y/n sat on the side of the camera as John looked so depressed and annoyed to be on FireCracker’s show. Y/N hated that he was but knew that he kinda had too. Victoria was also there and that was the exciting thing. But by the look on John’s face, he didn’t care. Of course FireCracker would praise John. That made both Y/N and John roll their eyes but John had to hide it better. He put on the fake smile that he learned to do.

Y/N zoned out during the whole thing until Homelander said something. “Ally Victoria, really?” Homelander laughed. Y/N sat up in her seat now listening. “We’re all here to tell the truth so.. Tell the truth.” Victoria looked a little scared and cleared her throat “The truth is…” But Y/N was more interested in what John’s response would be. “I’ll do it.” He says. Y/N’s heart was pounding but for once she enjoyed the show. “Victoria here is a super hero.” “Thanks for the compliment.” She said but that wasn’t what he meant. “It’s all true.” FireCracker said and this is where Y/N would zone out but this was interesting.

Y/N covered her mouth as it was exposed that Victoria was a supe. Homelander got up and walked away as Victoria tried to get his attention. Y/N sat in shock but John pulled her up to follow him. “I worked my whole life to keep that secret.” She told him. “Well secrets rot your soul.” He said and Y/N wanted to laugh. But she could tell this was very serious. “Baby, can you gave us a second?” He asked her and though she wanted to hear she agreed and walked away so he couldn’t see her as she listened to them.

“Your girlfriend is working with Butcher. You don’t think she’ll tell them?” “Why do you think I sent her away?” He growled at her. He really didn’t trust her? Her heart hurt at that but she didn’t walk away until they were done talking. She ran away before he could find her and called MM.

She sat on the table watching Frenchie work on the virus. She knew that eventually she’d have to pick a side but she felt safe with both and she would always side with boys no matter how much she loved John. “If I had another choice I’d take it.” MM said to Hughie over the phone. Frenchie flipped him off making Y/N laugh. He smiled at her, “So how are you and the bad Supe?” He asked. Y/N wished that he didn’t ask that. She was trying to keep them separate.

“Frenchie, you don’t have to act like you want to know about that.” She tells him. “I know but I also know where your heart truly lies.” He said. Did she even know? Y/N felt her phone vibrating so she looked down and saw that John was calling. She answered, “Where are you?” He asked not even saying Hi. “I am relaxing, why?” She said which wasn’t entirely a lie. “I need you home.” He said and she sighed. “I will be later.” “You’re with him aren’t you?” He asked but it sounded almost like a growl. “No. I have no idea where Billy is.” That was the truth. He sighed through the phone. “Whatever you’re doing, come home after.” He says and hangs up.

“Frenchie you stay here. Kumiko and Y/N you’re with me.” She wasn’t paying attention until her name so she looked up at MM. “Me?” She asked and he nodded. She got up and followed him out the door. “What’s the plan?” She asked as the walked. “We fucked up our offensive. All we got is defense.” He tells her. “About Victoria?” She asked. “And the virus.” Hearing about it made her sick. Annie wasn’t herself and that Y/N could tell but she hadn’t been around much anymore.

“For all we know the shifter could be here.” Y/N looked around at everyone for a sign of a flaw but truth be told a shifter could act just like the person. “Does he know you’re down here?” MM asked her. “Hopefully not.” She said. “He doesn’t have tracking on you?” She shrugged, “He trusts me enough. Not enough to share information though.” She said. “Annie is the shifter.” Hughie said.

Y/N and MM looked at him. “Look forward. Like we aren’t talking.” He said and they did. “How do you know?” Y/N asked him. Annie came up to them and showed off the ring that Hughie gave her. Y/N’s jaw dropped but for a different reason than that. He proposed to the fake Annie? MM was trying so hard not to crack but Y/N couldn’t hide her shock. One second she is staring at the ring and the next she is unconscious on the ground.

When she woke she looked around and noticed that she was in Homelander’s bed. She sat up way too quick, “Too fast. You need to relax.” He said and sat on the bed. She looked at him in horror and confusion. Did he know where the president was hiding? How did he get her? “You weren’t answering your phone so I went to your house.” He brought her from there? “Why’d you remove me from my bed?” She asked. “I want you to move in with me.” He states, ignoring her question.

The shockness she felt got more intense after that. “Oh.” She said and looked away from him. “What do you mean “oh”?” He was kind of offended. She sighed, “I overheard you tell Victoria that you sent me away from that conversation because I’m working with Billy.” She says. “Oh.” He said. “I try to keep our relationship separate from work.” She says. “Yeah but you can’t.” He said. “What does that mean?” She asked. “You can’t because Butcher and I are mortal enemies and you’ll have to pick a side.” He said and he wasn’t wrong. But Y/N didn’t know what side. “Look I know this isn’t easy for you but unless you plan on giving me information on what they are planning, then you have no need to be with them.” He said.

But she doesn’t support him in his actions. She couldn’t say that out loud. “What are you going to do if I choose them?” She asked. “I will have to kill them all and maybe you.” He did not just say to her. She stood up, “John, are you fucking serious right now?” “You brought it up.” He was acting like it was no big deal. “I’m well aware that I will have to choose a side but it’s not now.” She said. “Billy wants me dead. I want Billy dead. There is no soon.” Billy wasn’t even talking to her right now. “Billy hates me now so I have no idea what he is doing.” She said.

“There ya go then. You don’t even have to choose.” She wanted to roll her eyes. “The others? Those are my friends.” “They wanna take me down also so that’s still his side.” “We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if you didn’t say that to Victoria.” “How do I know you won’t go back and say all the things you know to them?” He asked. “I’m not. Like I said before, I am keeping us separate from them.” “You can’t!” He stood up. Y/N rolled her eyes, “I have been!” He laughed. “You don’t think that you are uneasy around you and keep things from you because of that?” He asked.

“They think I’m using you.” She yelled. His eyes widened at that. “They wanna kill me Y/N. They are going to try every little thing they can too.” She knew that he was right but she didn’t wanna choose a side. She doesn’t want it to come down to that. “They have a right to John.” She whispered. “What did you say?” He growled. She looked at him with tears in her eyes, “They do have a right to kill you John. Not that I want that to happen but you have done terrible things John. And if you don’t see that then you need to open your eyes.” He looked down at her words.

She got up from her spot and went over to him. She wrapped her arms around him, “But I love you John. And if I can prevent them from killing you I will.” She whispered. He looked at her. His expression was unreadable, making her heart beat. “If you love me. You’ll leave them and be with me.” He tells her. “Okay.” She whispered. “Okay.” She leaned up and kissed him. She wasn’t sure what she was doing but she hoped everything worked out in the end. John wasn’t around, thankfully. So when her phone started ringing she was quick to answer it.

“Hughie” the phone said, so she answered. “Hey, can you meet up with us?” She knew that she should have said No but she didn’t want to. “Yeah.” She said and got ready. John was at the Vought tower and wasn’t due back for a while so she wasn’t rushing for that reason. She was rushing because she wasn’t sure what Hughie was calling her about. She looked in the mirror and sighed. John can’t know about this.

Seeing Victoria and her daughter was the last thing she expected as she walked in the room. Everyone gave her a look of hesitation on the situation besides Hughie. “What’s going on?” She asked Frenchie. “Victoria wants to get away from Homelander and she’s afraid her daughter’s life is at stake.” He said and Y/N nodded. Well she shouldn’t know that. Nor should she be here. Y/N sighed but her heart started pounding at the sound of “oi” from none other than Billy Butcher.

The guy who hates her guts. She hadn’t even thought about him not being there. She looked over at him and he looked good. He was no longer sick it seemed. He looked around and noticed her. The smirk almost dropped from his face. She stared at him, wondering what his next move was going to be. It was like the room went silent and the ringing in her ears started as Billy had tentacles and got a hold of Victoria. Everyone but her tried to stop him but it was no use. Even her daughter who Billy threw back.

Y/N watched in horror as he broke Victoria like a kitkat. Hughie and her had the same expression and she looked at Billy as he took the virus. “I should kill you too.” He said to her as he went to leave. “Oh by the way, you’re fucking welcome!” He said before leaving. Y/N looked at the rest of them in horror. His words didn’t affect her as much as she thought they would. He was a monster just like Homelander. Maybe he’s secretly been like that all along.

John was in his room at Vought Tower where Y/N finally found him. He looked happy. “I uh went back with the boys to get my things.” She said which wasn’t a lie. He turned to her, “So you’ve made your decision?” He asked and she nodded. “Yes.” She placed the box of her things down and went to sit right next to him. “Victoria is dead.” He told her and even though she was there the look of shock on her face saved her from telling him what she knew. “The President did it.” He said and she looked confused. “He confessed to it but you know I think? I think there’s more than just that.” He said and he wasn’t wrong. “More than what?” She asked. He chuckled, “She was killed by someone that wasn’t him.” He said and she was hoping that he wouldn’t start name dropping.

“You exposed her to the world. Did you not think of what would happen?” She asked. “It was all part of the plan.” He said. Before she could question it he pulled out a small velvet box. She covered her mouth as he turned towards her. “You were never part of my plan but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.” He said as he lifted open the box to show a diamond ring. “Will you marry me?” He asked and she nodded without thinking.

He laughed a happy one for once and she hugged him. The tears that were streaming down her face weren’t just from this but from everything. She pulled away from the hug and kissed him before putting on the ring. “It’s beautiful.” She said and stared at it. “Beautiful things for a beautiful girl.” He said and she looked up at him. “I love you a lot John. Thank you!” She said and he nodded. “I love you more.” He said and picked her up. “Now I can fuck my fiance.” He said and she giggled. He carried her to the bedroom and dropped her on it.

Y/N woke up and saw that John was asleep next to her. She looked at his naked body and smiled at the memories of the previous night. She grabbed her phone to check the time but saw a message from Billy. Was he threatening her? She opened her phone to see the message and covered her mouth.

Is it a bad time to tell the woman that’s fucking my enemy that I’m in love with her?