#PART ONE !
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The Hate Formula
Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader
Summary: Living in the same building, across from each other shouldn't be much of a problem, right? But how come you and Joe tend to always push each other's buttons every day? Is it because you both truly just hated each other or is it because there was something more to it?
Author's Note: Welcome to another enemies to lovers fic! :) Let's also welcome back our bff, Sara. I'm sort of excited about this because it's so chaotic and fun and as you all know, I usually write angsty sad fics. So, I'm kind of having fun with this one. I hope you all enjoy! Please comments are always welcome! Thank you!
Wordcount: 2.9K
part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten
Two Years Ago…
The sun was beating down in the city of New York. It was the middle of July, and the heat was basically a torture for you at the moment. You and your best friend, Sara, were just moving into your new apartment building. The both of you had been roommates since you graduated college, and you both have finally earned enough money to actually rent a nice and bigger apartment. It was both of your dream apartment with the nice kitchen, marbled top counters and big glass windows that overlooked the city skyscrapers.
However, as much as you both were excited with the new apartment, the New York summer heat wasn’t really helping. You were already in shorts, tank top, and your hair was up in a messy ponytail and yet, you were still sweating so much. You both have spent the last two days taking everything out of your old apartment and bringing them into the new building. You and Sara would switch back and forth driving the U-Haul truck, and you both would carry your new furnitures up into the new apartment. You didn’t even realize you had so much stuff until you were packing up your things and had to throw most of the unnecessary ones away.
But today was your last day of moving the rest of your things. All the heavy stuff was already set up and organized in the apartment and the only thing that was left were just boxes of your clothes and miscellaneous stuff for the kitchen.
“I’ll take this last box and I can go drop off the U-Haul truck back.” Sara said, grabbing the last remaining box at the back of the truck.
“Are you sure? I can go with you.” You suggested.
“No, it’s alright. I got it. Maybe I can pick up some pizza for dinner tonight?”
You nodded your head in agreement. “That sounds good. I’m too tired to make dinner.”
Sara chuckled softly, agreeing with you as you both entered the building. You were carrying another box, following behind her and entering the elevator. You loved this new apartment. It was fancy, nice and everything was new. It even had a security guard outside the building that made you feel safe. You couldn’t help but feel proud of how far you two had come.
Ready to finally set down the last box, you followed Sara down the hall when you were greeted by a man from across the hall. He looked familiar, and he looked like he was about your age too. He was, however, shirtless, and he had a grin on his face the moment he saw you.
“Looks like I got new neighbors across the hall.” His English accent slipped through his voice.
You couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment. He was cute and not to sound too desperate, you rarely have any men interact with you. Especially cute and handsome men. Immediately, you were already hooked as soon as you heard that accent slip through his voice. His chocolate button eyes sparkled as he smiled at you. His curly brown hair was all disheveled, but it made him look more attractive.
“I’m Joe.” He grinned excitedly.
Setting the heavy box down on the floor, you introduced yourself. For a moment, you were reluctant to shake his hand because you were literally all sweaty and dirty from doing all this moving. Joe, however, didn’t hesitate to shake your hand. Instantly, you were already charmed by him.
Or maybe this heat was just getting into your head.
“So, are you new in the city?” Joe asked.
“I’m actually from Chicago, but I’ve been living in New York for five years now.” You cheekily grinned at him.
“I’ve never been to Chicago, but it seems like they have great and beautiful people over there.”
You knew exactly what he was doing.
You knew he was flirting with you, and you couldn’t help but flirt back. He was cute, and him standing here in front of you shirtless was making you slowly fold for him already.
God, you were pathetic.
How were you already blushing and all flustered because of this man? You literally just met him two seconds ago.
“So, you’re moving in with a roommate?” Joe nodded his head towards Sara.
Looking over your shoulder, the door of your apartment was open, and you could see Sara setting down the boxes and organizing the kitchen.
“Yeah, that’s Sara. She’s my best friend.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I hope I’m able to get to know you better.” Joe leaned against the doorframe, a flirty grin still plastered on his face.
Before you could say anything else, the door behind him swung open and a woman with disheveled hair looked at the both of you furiously. She was fixing the strap of her mini dress, and she barely had put on her other high heels. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as soon as you saw the angry look on her face. You were literally flirting with someone who had a girlfriend.
Wait, was she even his girlfriend?
And if he had a girlfriend, then why was he flirting with you?
“Really?!” The woman exclaimed, slapping Joe’s arm. “You take me to your place, fuck me, and I haven’t even left yet, and you’re already flirting with another girl?!”
Your eyes widened as you stood there dumbfounded at what she just told him. Your lips parted about to reason with her that you didn’t know he had a girl inside his apartment, but she had started yelling at Joe. She swung her purse to hit him on his stomach, making Joe groan and hunched down in pain before she turned to look at you with wide angry eyes.
Oh god.
You couldn’t believe you fell for it.
You couldn’t believe that you fell for Joe’s charms and flirt talk, only for you to find out that he was a player. He had another girl in his apartment, and he was flirting with you?
What the fuck was wrong with him?
The woman set her palms on his chest and pushed him away and nudged you with her shoulder to push you aside before walking away. You stood there, feeling astounded because you couldn’t even comprehend what just happened. You were exhausted, you were sweaty, and you could barely feel your hands from carrying heavy boxes all day. Your brain was too fried to even deal with this. You couldn’t help but blame the heat for getting too much into your head.
Joe looked over his shoulder, watching the woman walk away as he shook his head and turned back to you.
“She’s just overreacting.” Joe explained.
Tilting your head at him, you raised your brows and let out a scoff.
“Oh really?” You asked, irritated. “Or you’re just a player?”
You shook your head in disbelief, picking up the box from the floor and walked inside your apartment and slammed the door shut behind you.
You couldn’t believe that you actually fell for that.
Looking up from what she was doing, Sara knitted her brows as soon as she saw you enter the kitchen. She couldn’t even describe the expression that was on your face when you had set the box down on the floor.
“What happened?” Sara asked.
“Stay away from the man across the hall.” You said. “He’s a pig.”
Sara just chuckled softly, shaking head. Knowing you for the last couple of years, she knew you could be overdramatic sometimes, especially when it came with men. Although, she didn’t actually expect that the first day in this new apartment was going to be the first of many fights that you and Joe would have. She also didn’t expect that this was going to be something that she was going to start dealing with for the next two years.
As you got up early the next morning, you went for a quick jog around the neighborhood and as soon as you came back into the apartment building, you saw Joe leading a different girl out of his place. You couldn’t help but shake your head and felt disgusted by his behaviour. Then, as days, weeks, months went by, it was the same thing almost every week.
It annoyed you to the core.
You found out a month later that he was an actor and that was why he looked so familiar when you first met him. It wasn’t like you have seen his projects before. Just that one Stranger Things show, but you barely even finished it. However, his little celebrity status wasn’t what you really cared about. You were more disgusted by the fact that he thought he could get whoever he wanted and act like this just because he was an actor.
Ever since then, you had promised yourself to never fall for anything that he would tell you ever again.
Present Day…
The Friday night rush hit the subway station a little too early. You just got out of the office, and you were ready to just go home and snuggle under your comfy blanket. Your eyes studied the many faces of people inside the subway car as you held onto the metal pole. It was packed and everyone was literally shoulder to shoulder.
Thank god that your stop was next because it was starting to smell in there, and you hated it when it was this crowded in the subway. Walking out of the station, you decided to stop by at a local shop near your apartment building and pick up some snacks. As you walked through the aisles, you didn’t even care what you picked out on the shelves. You just started putting everything in your basket, whatever that looked satisfying to you. It was Friday, and you had a long, exhausting day. You deserved a little treat after all the stress from work that you have been dealing with.
Arriving at your apartment building, the moment you exited out the elevator, you instantly saw Joe walking out of his apartment. His curly hair pushed back, he was in fancy clothes, and a playful grin tugged on his lips the moment his eyes caught you. You rolled your eyes at him as he chuckled softly when he passed by.
“Is that what you're going to do on a Friday night?” Joe asked, looking down at the plastic bag that you were holding in your hand.
You stopped in your tracks and turned to look at him with an annoyed expression on your face. The last thing you wanted to do was deal with his obnoxious behavior.
“Do you ever mind your own business?” Your eyes were literally giving him a death glare.
Joe’s grin widened as he took a few steps forward closer to you. His index finger softly grazed the top of your nose as he poked it. Immediately, you made a face and swatted his hand away.
“Not with yours.” Joe murmured, amusement all over his face.
You could feel the anger and frustration coming up in your emotions. You didn’t understand how he never got tired of annoying you. It has been two years since you have moved in and every day, Joe always found a way to make you feel irritated. You didn’t care one bit if he was an actor. You didn’t care if he has a little celebrity status.
He was still disgusting, and he was still a pig.
You felt your nose flared in anger as you grimaced at his little comment. “Is there someone else you could torture?!”
Your voice raised as Joe laughed softly and poked your nose again.
“Yes, but I like doing it to you.”
“And what are you going to do, hm?” You raised your brow at him. “You’re gonna go out there and pick up a new girl again?”
Joe shrugged, “Well, at least I’m not spending my Friday night with a bag of Doritos and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.”
“Well, at least I’m not an asshole.” You retorted back.
Pushing him out of your way with your shoulder, you could see the playful grin that kept tugging on his lips, but you ignored it as you unlocked your door and immediately slammed the door shut behind you. Groaning in frustration, you set the plastic bag on the dining table and saw Sara walking out of the bathroom. Her hair was still wet from the shower, and she was holding a towel to dry it.
“What did he do now?” Sara asked.
Sara had lived with you in this apartment building for two years now, and she knew exactly what was happening whenever you entered your apartment with that look on your face. There was no one else in this world that could get under your skin but Joe. Not even your annoying boss or co-workers at work could get you all worked up like this, and Sara could see that every time.
Sometimes Sara would wish that Joe would literally get under your skin, so the both of you could stop playing this game and admit what you two actually felt for one another.
But she would never say that to you nor would admit what she could see between the both of you.
She knew it would just enrage you even more. She couldn’t help but just shake her head and chuckle at your reaction all the time because after all, it seemed like she was the only one who could see why Joe tends to push all your buttons so easily.
“He’s just being an asshole like always.” You grumbled, taking out the snacks that you bought from the plastic bag.
Sara laughed softly, grabbing the bag of Doritos, opening it. She tilted her head at you and said, “You know, I don't understand why can’t you both just ignore each other?”
You gazed up at her with an even more frustrated look on your face. “Are you kidding? You think I don’t wanna do that? He’s the one who’s always starting something.”
“Always?” Sara raised her brow at you.
What was she trying to say?
When you didn’t answer her question, she added, “Remember when he had a package that was accidentally left on our doorstep, and you held it hostage for two weeks?”
You knitted your brows, stuttering for a moment and said, “He… He deserved it. Besides, I was doing everyone a favor.”
“Holding his package hostage until he kept the noises down from his apartment wasn’t doing everyone a favor!” Sara argued. “You two were arguing in the middle of the hall every day, and that was a lot noisier.”
You rolled your eyes, scratching your forehead in frustration. You shrugged your shoulders and pursed your lips without even arguing back with Sara because yeah, you did that on purpose because you just wanted to piss him off the way he always pissed you off all the time.
“Are you still mad about what happened two years ago?” Sara asked.
You scoffed, stunned at the subject that Sara had brought up.
“No!” Your voice sounded defensive. “Yes, I clearly fell for his charms but that was before I knew how much of a fuckboy he is.”
Sara chuckled, rolling her eyes at the excuse that you were throwing at her. She never pressed the subject every time she would see that the angry meter on top of your head was starting to spill over. Sometimes she would just imagine grabbing the both of you and banging each other’s heads to see if you both would realize how ridiculous this stupid game you two kept playing. She never understood how both of you weren’t tired of it after two years.
“Which is too bad.” You added, grumbling under your breath. “Because he’s cute.”
Sara stuffed her mouth with Doritos as she settled herself on the sofa. She lets you continue grumbling under your breath until you have let all your feelings out. That was what she always did because then, she would be able to really see how strong your feelings were for Joe. She knew you were just angry with how he behaves, so Sara just let you do your thing as she started browsing movies on Netflix.
“Hey! That’s my Doritos!” You scolded her after you finally had gone back to reality.
“Too late now.” Sara deviously smiled, throwing a piece of Dorito at you. “Are you done?”
“Done with what?”
“Grumbling over Joe.”
“I wasn’t—” You exhaled a sharp breath. “You know what, I’m gonna go freshen up. You can pick the movie for tonight.”
Walking away, you went to shower to wash away today's stress and settled next to Sara later that night. Holding the pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, you reached over and grabbed some Doritos from the bag that was sitting on Sara’s lap. As you focus your attention on the movie, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander somewhere else. You couldn’t help but recall your little conversation with Joe from earlier.
“Are we this sad? Spending Friday nights like this?” You asked Sara, turning to face her.
Sara shrugged, gazing up at the ceiling for a moment as if she was thinking about your question carefully.
“Maybe.” She answered. “But at least we’re not getting our hearts broken.”
Laughing softly with her, you nodded your head in agreement.
“True.”
*********
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#Joseph Quinn#Joe Quinn#Joseph Quinn x Reader#Joe Quinn x Reader#Joseph Quinn x You#Joe Quinn x You#Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader#Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader#Joseph Quinn Fanfics#Joe Quinn Fanfics#Joseph Quinn Fics#Joe Quinn Fics#Joseph Quinn rpf#Joe Quinn rpf#The Hate Formula#part one#moondustpugh
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Everyone but You
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no crash au
part 2 at some point..
was listening to everyone but you by the front bottoms while writing this so take that as u please!
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shauna shipman—shauna fucking shipman, like #6 on the WHS soccer team, jackie taylor’s bestfriend—bitch to everyone except apparently you is pulling you away from a party, you!—
how the fuck did this happen?
lunch 3 days pre-party—that’s when things began getting weird, lottie matthew’s (who to the general public of Wiskayok high—is the second most popular girl, succeeded by non other than jackie taylor) comes up to you, you’re nose deep in a book, a jane austen book to be specific, and to be really specific ‘Pride and Prejudice’, you’ve got your headphones on, blasting whatever playlist spotify thinks you should listen to when you read consisting of mellow-sad-angsty songs; when suddenly you see a hand waving in front of you, you jump and set the book down before placing one of your headphones off your ear, only to realize it’s lottie matthew’s trying to get your attention. she questions you about your book but you can tell she’s not really interested—anyways, you out of everyone get an invite to some kind of party that she’s throwing on friday, invite by lottie only. you obviously agree—you’d be choosing even more social suicide if you didn’t (you’re already a loser)—with a simple yet unsure “okay” lottie nods and writes her address on your forearm, telling you 8 o’clock on the dot.
what the fuck?
2 days pre-party: vanessa palmer (she’d kill you for calling her that) and taissa turner sit at your lunch table, you don’t think you’ve ever seen one without the other following right behind (usually van following) anyways—tai mentions something about the party, and you simply answer with a “yeah, lottie invited me, i’ll be there” in which van replies with an “oh shit! i didn’t really think lottie would go through with it—you know for sh-“ tai puts her hand over vans mouth before giving a simple awkward smile and muttering a “see you there!”
weird, so fucking weird.
1 more day until the party you think to yourself in non other than english class, which by some weird coincidence you share with #6 of the WHS yellowjackets, shauna shipman. no one really likes her in this class—you don’t know why, i mean she can be abrasive and stick to her guns, but the girl knows her stuff. she’s never been rude to you. always answering anything with sincerity and kindness—why you get this honor? you have no idea. today in english class you pull out yet another jane austen book, this time it’s ‘Emma’, popping your headphones over your head and pressing play on that same spotify shuffle, you don’t even get a page in before you feel a tap on your shoulder, looking up, of course it’s her—shauna shipman, that red flannel on, those shorts—her hair tied up in that low ponytail, her bangs framing her face, her eyes—holy shit her brown eyes, you’d think she couldn’t hurt anything with those eyes—her lips, oh my god—
you’re struck out of your thoughts by her laughing and saying something like “you weren’t listening were you?” with an awkward apology you take your headphones off and set the book down “what’d you say?” you say softly, scared to have any sense of rejection from the harshness you know she’s capable of, but she proves you wrong asking about the book your reading and saying something about “The classics” whatever you’re just astonished that she’s even talking to you and it’s not yelling.
fuck you’re in deep, you think.
the day of the fated party, it’s 7:30 you’re on your way to the matthew’s estate praying and hoping that everything goes fine, even asking the saints to make some exceptions. you roll up and park in the driveway that must span at least an acre, noticing that there are more cars than just yours and the expected soccer team, and that fact alone immediately calms your nerves. 7:55; you make your way to the door and before you can even make an attempt to knock, #9 jackie taylor, opens the door not even making an attempt to look at you before she steps outside, crashing right into you. of course this would happen to you, based purely on instinct you grip onto her waist to keep both of you upright, and of course because why wouldn’t this happen to you? shauna fucking shipman is at the door as it happens—she sees you grabbing onto jackie taylor in broad daylight? nightlight? whatever nothing matters.
why the fuck does this happen to you?
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#jackieshauna#shauna sadecki#shauna shipman#shauna yellowjackets#yellowjackets#yellowjackets x reader#van palmer#taissa turner#jackie taylor#lottie matthews#part one#idk lmao#shauna shipman x reader
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Prequel Part I
Yandere Short Story Series:
Too Late For Remorse
Yandere Cheater Duke x Countess Reader x Duke
TW: murder, yandere themes, cheating (mentioned), delusional behavior, yandere is the villain, etc.
“So you’re breaking off the engagement between my son and your daughter?” Duke Blackburn sat in the chair across from Count (last name). The older Duke delicately held the tea cup in his hand.
“I apologize for breaking the agreement, but my daughter cannot be without a man who associates with the Serpico family.” Duke Blackburn nodded his head in agreement.
“I understand, I’m also not a big fan of infidelity.” It was quite well known in the noble faction that Duke Blackburn’s wife had messed around with many knights during their short marriage. Which worked in Count (Last name)’s favor since Duke Blackburn despised the unfaithful.
Duke Blackburn continued the conversation, “You know your daughter was promised to marry a Blackburn. It’d be a shame to not have such a beautiful woman in our family. I have another son who’s a few years younger than her.”
“Eh, I don’t know if Broderick be a good match since he’s not quite mature yet…” Count (Last name) sighed. “I wouldn’t mind my daughter marrying you if I’m honest-“
Duke Blackburn’s cheeks flushed in shock, the Duke nearly dropped his tea cup from the Count’s words. “I beg your finest pardon?”
“My daughter would be in good hands if she was with you. You’re mature and you’ve been single for over a decade.” Count (last name) gestured to the portrait of his daughter behind him. “You said it yourself that my daughter was beautiful.”
“That does not mean I want to marry a woman half my age-“
“Duke Lucius Blackburn and Duchess (your
name), I can picture it.” Count (last name) howled with laughter when the Duke hid his scarred face in his gloved hands. The older Duke felt embarrassed by the Count’s teasing.
Lucius and (your name)? It is a normal occurrence of marrying a younger woman in this day and age, but she was his own son’s ex-fiancée! Then again, it would be a similar situation if she became engaged to Broderick…
“Alright. I will marry your daughter-“ Duke Blackburn put his hand on Count (last name)’s shoulder before the smaller man could cheer. “But consult with her first. I’m an old man and I’m still the commander of the Royal’ Family’s army. I’d hardly have time for her.”
“Of course I will. I’m sure she will be delighted!”
Duke Blackburn and Count (last name) continued to have small talk but Lucius couldn’t help the feeling of nervousness that crept up his veins. Would she really be alright with a man like him?
.
.
.
“So Duke Blackburn said he’d marry you if you’d like to be with him.” (Your name) quirked a brow at her father. The young woman slowly sipped the tea her father had prepared for this meeting. She was a bit surprised her father wanted to find her a partner this quickly, but she was also in her prime. If (your name) didn’t marry soon, she never would.
“But I just ended my engagement to him-“
“Wrong Blackburn, my dear. I’m talking about Lucius Blackburn-“ (your name) spat out the tea and choked a bit. Lucius?! As in Trishan’s father?! “Are you alright?”
“Father, you can’t possibly- why?” (Your name) struggled to formulate words as a million questions ran through her brain. Engagement to Trishan’s father?! His father?!
“Well, he’s a much better man than his spawn. Don’t you think, my dear?” Count (last name) puffed his chest out in pride. “Plus he’s still quite fit despite his age-“
“Father!” (Your name) stood up, her being frazzled with bewilderment. “It hasn’t even been a week since my engagement was annulled and… that man is old enough to be my father!”
“But he would treat you well!”
(Your name) shook her head and was about to excuse herself from the table. How was she supposed to get her revenge if she now had to marry Trishan’s father?
(Your name) held her head while the gears began to turn in her head. Wait. This could work… she could use Lucius to her advantage.
“You’re right, father. How could I not see that before?” (Your name) bent down and pressed a kiss to her father’s cheek. “Thank you, daddy.”
The count was in shock before his whole face lit up. He was so happy to bring his daughter joy! She deserved to be happy!
.
.
.
Trishan threw a chair across his room in anger. His engagement had been annulled and his beloved was to marry his father?! No… this wasn’t how his second chance was supposed to work out! They were supposed to be happy together!
“Trishan?” Trishan’s blood went cold when he heard a familiar, feminine voice from outside his door. What was that snake doing here? “You haven’t replied to any of my letters and I’m really worried about you…”
Lies. That woman only wanted to become a Duchess and she had murdered (your name) in the past… was this her fault?
Trishan felt murderous intent drip throughout his veins as he stood up. Yes… this was Gia’s fault. If she didn’t exist… then (your name) would come back to him.
Trishan’s lips curved up in a demented smile. If he got rid of Gia then everything would fall back into place. Just like it was meant to.
“Wait for me darling… I’ll make everything right this time.”
#female reader#yandere fic#yandere imagine#yandere#yandere duke#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere cheater#tw.yandere#tw.cheating#yandere concept#yandere content#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader#original work#yandere original character#yandere stories#yandere boy#yandere male#older yandere#obsessive yandere#yandere obsession#time regression#yandere imagines#delusional yandere#yandere idea#part one#fantasy au#yandere fanfiction
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post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader
genre: enemies to lovers, smut with a plot
summary: spencer can't help but despise his "replacement", especially during an undercover mission in a nightclub.
MDNI 18+
“this is insane.” penelope garcia mutters on the other end of the phone call. “there’s no way jeffery was able to absolutely take himself off the internet.” she huffs, the keyboard clicking in the background. “i’m gonna keep working. i’ll be back in a jiffy, i swear!” she says sweetly before hanging up.
the unsub, jeffery hogan had abducted then murdered four young women in los angeles california. the team had been in la for three days now, and jeffery had already killed two more women before they could stop him. all of them were getting antsy and a little angry.
you sigh, leaning back in your chair as the rest of the team begins talking amongst themselves, minus spencer, who had been staring at a map for twenty minutes.
“reid.” you say, catching his attention. he doesn’t look up, but you can tell that your voice startled him slightly.
“hmm?” he says, annoyance lacing his tone. you roll your eyes. he had been an absolute dick to you since day one. the whole team had described him as a saint, yet, you couldn’t see it. yes, he was attractive, but that didn’t distract from how hateful he was towards you. plus, you had been nothing but nice to him when you first met him, doing nothing to get on his bad side.
“did you make a connection between the locations?” you ask curtly. he huffs. “i don’t see you doing anything helpful.” he snaps, finally looking up from his map to glare at you.
“spence,” jj begins, joining the conversation unknowingly. “any connections?” he smiles and turns to face her, like you hadn’t just asked the same question.
“the one common location that overlaps with all the crime scenes and significant places in jeffery’s life is the ‘night owl’, a local night club.” reid says, smirking at you when he finishes his sentence like a teenager. you scoff.
emily gives them a look that says “act professional please”.
“we have no idea what he looks like, we only know bits and pieces of his life that garcia could dig up, how are we going to catch him?” matt asks, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, a coffee in hand.
“i could go undercover,” you begin with a shrug. “most of the girls he abducted have been around my age and have my same features.” emily nods in agreement.
“one issue.” rossi says. “the unsub has always abducted women on dates.” you nod. that’s true.
“i could go with you.” matt says, standing up straight and taking a sip of his coffee. you open your mouth to thank him but emily cuts you off.
“no offense simmons, but what if we sent in reid instead? he closer matches y/n’s age and resembles the victims boyfriends more closely.”
spencer opens his mouth to protest but tara cuts him off with a smile. “great idea, you guys should leave in an hour or so, you better start getting ready.”
you watch as reid fights the urge to say something rude, but is quickly whisked away by emily.
jj helps you get ready in another conference room of the precinct, dressing you like the average clubber.
your outfit is a small, tight, red mini dress, with matching heels and accessories. you had to admit, you looked good. you found yourself wondering what they had put reid in and whether he would find you attractive in this tight dress.
“you look amazing.” a voice breaks you out of your trance as you’re putting in an ear piece. you smile, turning to face emily.
“thank you.” you say softly, using your hands to smooth out your dress. “i think i’m ready.” you add, slightly nervous. emily reassures you that you will do great and asks you to follow her outside.
that’s where you’re met with spencer reid. he looks unfortunately handsome, hot even, wearing the most casual “spencer outfit” you have ever seen: corduroy pants, converse, and a white button down. the white button down was sheer linen (very beachy) and allowed you to barely see his chest. you quickly remind yourself that he is in fact a dick, hoping that will somehow make him less attractive.
you watch as his eyes wander your body. emily seems to notice and clears her throat.
“you guys gotta get going.” she breathes out a smirk on her face.
reid walks over to the side of the car. you smile slightly as he opens the door, your smile fading as he slides in alone slamming the door behind him.
“petty bitch.” you mutter. your heels angrily clicking against the asphalt as you walk to the other side of the suv, ripping open the door and sliding in with your arms crossed. you slam the door behind yourself, eyes glaring into the side of reid’s face.
“look,” you begin, your tone angry. “if this is going to work you need to at least try to pretend not to be a fucking asshole.” he scoffs, turning to face you.
“watch your tone.” he says lowly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. your arms are still crossed and you watch as spencer’s eyes go from your face to your tits, then back up again.
you remind yourself that indeed, he's just a man. he may be a genius but behind that, he’s simply just a man with needs. you were going to make tonight hell for him.
you smirk, eyes glaring into his. “do your fucking job and i just might comply, doctor.”
he turns his head away from you, staring out the window, a new type of tension in the air.
“can you guys hear me?” jj says through you ear pieces. “yeah.” reid says, you can hear how angry he is, just through one word.
the team gives you both a rundown and reminds you both of your parts.
“…remember you’re a couple!” garcia reminds you. the team agrees loudly on the line. “yeah,” alvez says. “pretend to like each other for one night.”
“we’ll try, alvez.” you reply as the suv pulls up in front of the busy nightclub.
you look over at reid. “open my damn door and look like you fucking mean it.” you say through gritted teeth. he doesn’t respond as he steps out of the car, shutting his door quietly and makes his way over to your side of the car. he opens your door with a fake smile on his face, putting out his hand for you to grab. you get out of the car, leaning in to whisper in his ear.
“grab my waist.” you demand. he huffs under his breath, reaching his large hand to rest on your waist. he leans in to whisper back. “you will not dictate this night. i have over ten more years of experience than you, on this team. you do not get to boss me around, y/l/n.” he says through gritted teeth, pulling away from your ear with a fake smile on his face. you don’t have time to respond as he says; “let’s go, baby.”
the nickname hits you like a brick, especially the way it comes out of his mouth so effortlessly. in an attempt to control your composure, you smile and lean against him as he rubs his hand lovingly across your waist.
you both enter the night club, the mix of bright lights and darkness temporarily blinds you as you grip onto spencer for support.
“don’t respond, but we see you’ve made it inside. go grab a drink from the bar then hit the dance floor.” emily orders. spencer nods, leading you towards the busy bar.
as you approach the bar, the bartender asks what you both want. “i’ll have a club soda with lime.” spencer says, turning his head to look down at you. “what do you want, baby?” he asks, rubbing circles on your waist softly. you smile back up at him pretending like you don’t want to kill him and subtly dig your ass into his crotch. he sucks in a breath.
“i’ll have a vodka soda.” you say with a sweet smile on your face. the bartender nods going to make the drinks.
you look back at spencer, his jaw clenched and his breathing heavy. you set your phone down on the bar and “accidentally” knock it off of the counter.
“oops!” you say dryly, bending down to pick it up, your ass now rubbing against his crotch. you subtly feel something twitch in his pants.
“y/n.” he warns you. you nod innocently. “hmm?” you hum. he moves his hand from your waist. you look back at him to silently scold him, but he quickly uses both hands to push you away from his crotch. he slides his hands down your waist, to your ass, then pulls down your dress in one quick motion. a man standing to his left begins complaining loudly about how he can no longer see your "fattie". you almost thank him, then remember that its fucking spencer you're dealing with.
he doesn’t say anything and simply hands you your drink, leading you away from the bar and the creepy men, to a nearby table.
you bite your lip to hold back hateful words that dare to spill out. you stand in silence, spencer sipping his drink while you chug yours.
"you look miserable." emily says in your ears. "do something." she adds.
"wanna dance, pretty boy?" you ask him, the nickname falling from your mouth accidentally. you pretend like it was on purpose as spencer looks up from his drink, slightly stuttering over his response.
"y-yeah, yeah." he repeats, regaining his composure. he grabs your hand and leads you towards the crowd of sweaty people dancing, only looking back once to make sure you were still there
spencer scans the crowd as he pulls you into his chest harshly.
"i'm not just some doll you can throw around, reid." you yell over the music, sick of his bullshit. he looks you in the eyes and shrugs.
as the song changes, couples around you begin to make out.
"kiss me, reid." you say, realizing the awkward dancing in a crowd of horny couples would defer the unsub's attention. spencer doesn't seem to hear you. "reid." you repeat, his eyes still scanning the room. "spencer." you say, the first time you've ever said his first name to him. this catches his attention. his gaze finally falls to you, his frame towering over yours as you wrap your arms around his neck.
"i need you to kiss me, spencer."
the usually dick-ish man makes no cocky response. instead, he simply tips his head down capturing your lips in a kiss. the kiss is awkward at first, but quickly turns heated as you press your body against his. his hands, which were loosely on your waist move downward, rubbing circles on your ass and somehow moving you closer to him.
you run your hands through his hair, feeling him moan softly into your mouth. his sweet noises immediately go straight to your now-wet-core. you break the kiss for a second, to catch your breath, your faces still inches apart.
spencer's pupils are blown, his hair is messy, and his lips slightly swollen, tinted red from your lipstick. fuck, you want to devour him.
spencer quickly resumes the kiss, this time you don't have to ask. you easily feel how hard he is already, with his cock pressed against your leg.
you groan softly as you push your tongue into his mouth, eliciting more sweet noises from the handsome man.
"nice job guys, we have a suspect at 3 o'clock." emily says into our ears, reminding us that we aren't alone.
“let’s go somewhere more secluded.” spencer whispers, his breath hot on your cheek. he wants to lure the unsub out. you nod, waiting for him to move. instead his hands are still on your ass, his eyes on you, like he’s taking a mental picture.
“pretty boy.” you say almost inaudibly. “let’s go.” he spins you around so you’re in front now, able to maneuver your way out of the crowd. one of his hands rests on the small of your back protectively as you head towards the back corner of the club, a stark contrast to the way he was treating you less than 10 minutes ago.
“the hypothetical unsub’s eyes are still on you guys but he hasn’t moved, we can’t seem to see his face on camera. you need to get him to move closer.” jj announces in your ears.
“she’s telling us to kiss again.” you whisper. he nods, placing his large hand on your cheek and swiping his thumb across your lips. you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into kiss him. he picks you up slightly, just enough to allow you to sit on him as he takes a seat on a random couch.
as he moves from kissing your lips to your jaw and neck, you instinctively begin rocking your hips against his, feeling how hard he is under you.
he groans softly against your neck, his kisses becoming sloppier.
“y/n.” his tone desperate, the use of your first name alarming. “if you keep going i might not be able to maintain professionalism.”
you bite your lip excitedly. “do you want me to stop then, spencer?” his eyes stare into yours, his hands on your hips.
“no.” he breathes out, pulling you closer to him and kissing you again. he moves his hands upwards as his lips move downwards, slowly leaving kisses and rubbing your now-visible nipples through the thin fabric for your dress. you suck in a breath at the new sensation, your head thrown back in ecstasy.
“the unsub moved into the light, it’s jeffery. sending alvez and rossi in now to apprehend him. you guys can stand down, nice work.” emily says, startling them slightly. you pull away from spencer, your underwear undeniably wet and your cunt begging for attention. you awkwardly remove yourself from his lap, sitting next to him on the sofa, noticing that in fact he was hard, an outline of his dick highlighted in the odd club lighting. he squirms in his seat slightly, obviously trying to readjust.
“y/n,” he says, noticing your eyes on him. you hum in response, your eyes moving from his cock to his face. “bathroom.” he says simply.
he doesn’t give you an opportunity to respond, simply getting up and leaving the room. you wait for a few seconds, processing his words and attempting to wrap your head around the fact that an hour ago you hated this man and now you were dying for him to fuck you.
a few minutes pass and you make your way to the bathroom where you don’t even knock, you simply walk in. spencer is there waiting. immediately as you enter the bathroom, he locks it, then attached his lips to yours. you moan softly into the kiss, jumping up to wrap your legs around his waist. he, however, seems to as other plans as he sets you down on the sink and lowers himself between your legs.
he leaves soft kisses up your thighs, your legs now thrown over his shoulders. “spencer,” you beg, his lips dangerously close to your cunt. “please.”
he smiles as you beg, hooking his finger on your underwear and pulling them down your legs roughly. he lowers his head farther in between your legs, licking a slow stripe down your cunt, causing you to squeeze your legs around his head and moan.
hearing your reaction, spencer moans softly against your pussy, the vibrations making you gasp.
unfortunately the club music had been turned off and if anyone were to walk by, they would probably hear you making sounds. you cover your mouth with your hand to make sure you guys don’t get caught.
he moves his tongue farther into you, the sound of his mouth on your soaking wet cunt making lewd sounds that fill the small bathroom.
you moan into your hand, bucking your hips against his face.
he pulls his mouth away from you and without skipping a beat he inserts one of his large fingers into you, grinding his crotch against the edge of the sink to get himself off.
you open your mouth to tease him but he interrupts you by adding another finger into your pussy. you can’t help but moan loudly, feeling your walls clench around his fingers.
“so good for me.” he says breathlessly, his fingers’ pace rough inside you and his hips fast against the sink counter.
“spencer,” you say in between ragged breaths. “i’m so close!” he smiles at your words, removing his fingers from your pussy with a pop.
you groan softly, hating the feeling of emptiness.
“spencer.” you warn, sitting up to get a good look at him. he has a look in his eye, a smirk on his face.
“what’s up?” he says nonchalantly, licking you off his lips and his fingers. you ask yourself how he can be so calm when he was literally just finger fucking you and eating you out. his cock is still dangerously hard, a spot of pre-cum on his cute little pants. you catch yourself imagining how big he is.
“fine.” you huff, seeing how he didn’t seem like he wanted you to finish. you insert your own fingers into your swollen cunt, pumping them inside yourself like spencer had been only a minute ago.
you over exaggerate your moans watching as spencer begins to rub himself through his now tight pants.
“i’m not going to beg you, pretty boy, but i need your cock inside of me right now.” he smirks at your words, making his way back over to you, hands moving to your face, kissing you passionately.
“i’m pretty sure that was begging, y/n.” he says as he pulls away from the kiss, beginning to unbutton his pants.
however, loud knocks interrupt him. "spencer?? are you in there??" emily's familiar voice, fills the room.
"uh, yeah! i'll be out in a second!" he says, beginning to re-button his pants, his cock still visibly hard. emily says something inaudible from the other side of the door then walks away. you lean forward on the sink counter, resting your head on spencer's shoulder, his arms wrapping around you.
after a second of peace, you hop of the counter in an attempt to fix your appearance, sliding back on your awkwardly soaked underwear.
"can we please finish this later?" spencer speaks up, catching you off guard. you smile, your brain still processing the fact that an hour ago you wanted to kill this man.
"yes, please."
part 2 :)
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader smut#bau#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fandom#part one#smut#enemies to lovers#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid imagine#spenceobsessed
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Azriel x third-oldest-Archeron-sibling!Reader: Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You
A/N: I was in the mood for a writing a heated argument that turns into an even hotter make-out session, but then it got slightly depressing so…
Warning: slight angst but not much because I can’t take that emotionally :’)
-Part 2[*]-
“How was she today?”
You fight the urge to clench your jaw. The harsh snapping of your book is the limit to how far you’ll allow the leash on your anger to slip. Jealousy? Frustration? Whatever complicated nonsense he’s gotten you tangled up in.
“No hello? What about a how are you today?” You ask tersely. So much for keeping your emotions on a tight leash. His brow narrows a little—you don’t usually bubble over when he asks how your older sister is doing. “You weren’t practically bed-ridden for months,” he replies slowly, gauging your response carefully.
Instantly, guilt weighs in the pit of your stomach, and you look away quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you,” you soothe hastily. Gods, why did you say that to him? You’re trying to gain his favour, not make him think you’re an ungrateful, self-absorbed sister. “She was fine. We did some baking—well, Elain did some baking, I was reading something. It’s a new book, actually! Because I finished the last one, which was actually pretty good, but this one I think is set in the last war and…” you trail off when you notice the patient smile he’s giving you.
Right. He’s not interested in what book you’re reading, or how you spent the day. He’s not interested in you full stop. He’s interested in Elain. You fight the way disappointment wants to twist the edges of your mouth, instead plastering on a smile that you hope he reads as oops, look at me! There I go again, haha.
“Well,” you say, swallowing the lump in your throat, “she made some cupcakes—I think they were vanilla, and she put something that looked like jam inside. Really good. I’m sure she’d be happy for you to try one—if you ask,” you smile, adding in the details he wants to hear. For the Spymaster, he’s surprisingly open about his interest in Elain to you. But maybe that’s because you’re always so willing to answer any question you can for him.
“I’m glad,” he says, something glimmering in his hazel eyes. “And there were no silent spots? No abrupt changes?” You return your attention to the book in your hands, fingers running over the bound edges, “she was fine all the way. You never would have guessed everything she’s been through.” He hums, pleased with her progress. It’s a sound of contentment, from the back of his throat that you’re certain rumbles throughout his chest. It’s an effort to keep your attention on the book.
It’s been more than two years since the three of you were tossed into the Cauldron. Feyre and Rhysand are happy, Nesta’s made progress on healing herself and is now alarming in love with Cassian, Elain’s taking large steps in a good direction, too. You remember vividly the time when she would hardly utter a word for days, hardly shift her gaze from a strange spot in the middle-distance, how worried she made you and Nesta. And Feyre, obviously, but things were a little…strange at the time. They always had been.
You spent the first few months struggling to hold a meal down, often being wracked with spasms of anxiety and flushes of hot and cold. There was a time you would black out if you stood up too fast, and now you can hold down three meals a day without needing to run to the nearest latrine provided you don’t eat too quickly. You feel like yourself again, but fresher. You know you aren’t the same as you were, though. Not after the Cauldron, but you had no choice but to adapt. With eternity ahead of you, you couldn’t stand the thought of spending it weakened and frail—hardly capable of standing without feeling dizzy.
Maybe you are a little jealous that Elain’s getting all the attention. She’d always been the centre of Nesta’s attention, and while you were on fairly good terms with your oldest sister throughout your childhood, you were no competition for her sharp mind and sharper tongue. Feyre was the wild one, Elain the pretty one, Nesta the cunning one—then there was you.
What’s your place in your dysfunctional family?
“It’s good she seems to be steadily improving,” Azriel says, breaking you from your inner thoughts. You nod dutifully, agreeing with him. “She smiled for most of it, too,” you add, remembering how pleased she’d been when they came out how she wanted—after numerous attempts. “Though she was covered in flour—her hair was practically white!” You laugh fondly, covering your mouth with your hand.
A faint smile appears on his lips and, for just a moment, you let yourself pretend he’s smiling at the sound of your laugh.
But that’s all you have to report back to him, and even if you’ve pleased him, he’ll be finding an excuse to slip off now that he knows she’s been fine. You’ll admit, it’s difficult to remember she’s your sister when he so clearly would choose her over you. It’s not even a competition.
So you swallow your nerves, tuck your hands behind your back and peer up at him. “Hey, you read right?” You ask, keeping a pleasant smile on your lips—lest he think you’re too eager. He blinks out of whatever thought he was having, clearing his gaze as he looks down at you, then nods. “I’ve been known to pick up a book from time to time,” he answers. He’s in a good mood, it seems.
“Do you have a favourite?” You ask, tipping your head at a slight angle, appearing to look at the books stacked on the shelves. “I feel like I’ve been rereading the same story over and over again and want to try something else.”
“You’re asking me to pick just one?” He replies, quirking his brow. The smile that comes to your mouth isn’t as fake, or as controlled as you would like—it stretches your lips thin, showing the gaps either side of the top row of your teeth.
“Okay, give me a couple to have a nose at. So if one bores me to tears, I can pick up another,” you laugh gently, pulling the book tight to your chest, worried you’re showing too much. Does he know how your days often centre around whether he’ll seek you out? The too-short conversations that often revolve around your sister?
“Does Elain read?” He asks, tentatively, and it’s like a stone to your cheek. You clutch the book tighter to your chest, taking in a slow, quiet breath. “I can ask her? Subtly, of course,” you force a smile, fingers digging into the spine of the book. He shakes his head, “I’ll do it. I’d like to see how she’s doing for myself.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, “to be fair, she might be sick of them for how long she was in here last year. They might be an eyesore by now,” you laugh softly. But instead he frowns disapprovingly, like you shouldn’t be making jokes at her expense. And suddenly that urge appears, the urge to confront him about his behaviour—why he never talks to you for you.
“Azriel…?” You say, the smile slipping from your lips, though your make sure your eyes still sparkle a little, keeping them partially crinkled. But then you bite the inside of your lip, and the rest of the mask fades, leaving you raw, and more than a bit scared. If you overthink it, it’ll never get done.
“Why do you…I don’t feel like you ever…like we ever talk. Us,” you say, then flush at the word—so intimate. Us. “What do you mean?” He asks, standing sturdy before you. A seed of frustration sprouts within, but you push the irritation away. “I just…You’re always asking me about Elain.” His brow narrows a bit, and you want to take the words back.
“What else?”
You look up at him, all beauty and classical grace, and such unearthly, ethereal lines and angles to him you wish you knew how to paint like Feyre. “What do you mean, ‘what else’?” You ask, a little hurt.
“I mean, is there something else you want to talk about?” He asks, gently. Carefully.
My book would be nice. I’d like you to ask how I’m doing today, how I’m feeling, what I want to do.
“Something that doesn’t involve my sister, would be nice,” you laugh, giving him a smile that reads, can you really blame me for not wanting to talk about Elain all the time? He doesn’t smile like you’d hoped, but frowns. “Do you not like her?” He asks instead, “did something happen between you two?”
“No,” you say hurriedly. “No—nothing happened, we’re fine. Right as rain. It’s just…you always ask after her, and I feel like that’s the only reason you approach me.” You swallow, having begin to put the truth out there for him. “You seem fine talking about other things with Feyre and Nesta, but I can’t remember the last time we talked about something that wasn’t my sister, and I… I don’t really…” You trail off, watching him nervously.
His frown only deepens as he takes you in. “I’m asking out of concern for her well-being, you understand that, don’t you?” He asks.
“I know, I know, but…are you?” You reply, managing to reign in your wince at the blunt question. When he only looks at you without response, you push forward. “I mean, you…you like her, don’t you? That’s why you ask all these questions? Why you care more than the others do?” You say, fighting to keep your voice even as the words come out. “And there’s nothing wrong with that,” you quickly amend, “but, you know, it would be nice to talk to you for you. And you for me. And, you know, she does have a…mate, so, I just thought—”
“What did you think?”
You blink at the sharp tone, his eyes colder than before, more sealed off. Still, you square your shoulders, keeping the book tucked tight against your front. “Well, that, maybe, it would be better to try somewhere else? Instead of investing in someone who’s practically already taken?”
“She doesn’t love him.”
“I know she says that, but—”
“But nothing,” he says, brow narrowing. “The mating bond can’t force someone to fall in love. If she doesn’t want him, she doesn’t have to have him.”
Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you shift on your feet beneath his penetrating gaze. “Feyre and Rhys worked out,” you manage, eyes flitting away from his, focusing on the book in your hands. “And she didn’t love him at first.” The paper’s old and crisp—worn with age. “Then Nesta and Cassian also got together, too,” you add, the pads of your fingers dragging over the pages, “and you saw what Nesta was like. How badly she was struggling. They didn’t look like they were going anywhere but destruction, but—”
“Are you done with the nosey speculation into other people’s relationships, or is that how you’ve found yourself filling your time?”
Again you blink at him, caught off guard by the ice in his tone. “I’m not saying it’s wrong to pursue her, Azriel,” you appease—try to. “I’m just saying maybe you could try looking…elsewhere, you know? Maybe try something with someone else? That won’t end badly?”
“You don’t know it will end badly,” he replies, all former warmth gone, no trace of it in his beautifully designed features. “It will for someone. Even if you and Elain do somehow end up together, what about Lucien? If it were Feyre and Rhys, or Nesta and Cass, would you think it okay for someone to try and separate them? When they were chosen to be together?”
“Bad pairings happen. Rhys’ parents are a fine example.”
“Yes, but they’re rather suited for one another, don’t you think?” You ask, pushing forward, “Elain’s always excelled at social events. She easily settles into the flow of conversation—she knows what to say, and how to act to put people at ease around her. And Lucien does the same. He knows how to draw ties between people where there seem to be none, just like her. He knows how to keep conversation flowing without pushing it, how to keep things at the right pace, just like her.”
“While you…” you pause, and his jaw tightens.
“Go on,” he says icily, “tell me why think I’m undeserving of her.”
“I don’t think its a case of deserving, Azriel,” you say quickly. “But you…well, you try to blend into any corner you can when there are more than three people in the room.”
His brow narrows, “I didn’t realise you’d been keeping tabs on me.”
“Yes, well, you’re the only one I’m interested in, so.” Your voice is soft, bladed, honed. Resigned. You lips press into a thin line as your eyes flicker away from his, too embarrassed to look even in his general vicinity. You had never anticipated laying your heart to bare to be so…scary? Terrifying?
Anti-climactic.
Admitted in such a quiet, understated way. As if he isn’t the first one you’ve ever felt so strongly for. As if he isn’t the first one who’s given you a vague understanding of why some women were so happy to do whatever their husbands told them. Why they were so happy to live in subservience, and why that’s not what it was.
“You think you’re deserving of me?” He asks, coldly. Shame and embarrassment heat your features, but you manage to shoot back, “do you think you’re deserving of her?” You cross your arms over your chest, trying to prevent yourself from being intimidated by his height, and muscle, and beauty, and overall damned attractiveness that makes you weak in the knees.
His upper lip twitches in a repressed snarl, anxiety spiking in your chest. “Answer my question,” he says, softly, an edge to his voice. You swallow, “answer mine.” You’ve never demanded something from someone before, but it’s out there now, and it feels surprisingly good to insist on something for yourself.
He regards you silently, and it takes a remarkable strength to stand still beneath his icy gaze—knowing that he’s judging what he’s seeing. Weighing if you’re worth his answer.
“I think I gave a hint of my interest for her,” he says, eyes glittering with something cold that you’re unaccustomed to have turned on yourself. “And she reciprocated with her own signs.” He stares you down, unyielding, and powerful, and you want to run and hide. “What about you?”
You purse your lips to keep them from trembling as heat crawls beneath your skin with humiliation. But—no. Get over it. Make it through. Survive something else. “I think I’m tired, and hurt from knowing that you only talk to me because you want to know how my sister is doing,” you confess, voice wobbling. “I think it’s cruel to continue asking after her when I so obviously answer every question you have just so you might pay me a little more attention.”
There’s no bite to your words, and they come out softer and weaker than you had expected. You feel tired, and drained. Eyelids heavy and heart rate spiking every other beat, numerous crescent shaped indentations on the heel of your palms.
“Maybe you’d be better off turning your affections somewhere they’d be appreciated,” he says, icily. Your heart aches, and it takes a few humiliating moments for you to gather yourself enough that you won’t burst into tears when you again find your voice. “That’s all you have to say?” You manage, fingers trembling behind your back.
“Maybe if you were even half the female she is, I’d be tempted to show a little interest,” he snarls softly, eyes glittering with cold rage.
It feels like a smack to the face, a punch to your stomach. Your eyes go wide, then blur, hot pressure building steadily. You dig your nails into the binding of your book, and move to walk past him—at least preserve what little dignity is still intact by refusing to let him see you cry. He already barely sees you as a woman, you won’t win any points with your blubbering. He wants a female, not a girl.
But he seems to realise what he’s said and turns, gripping your upper arm to keep you from leaving. You allow him to stop you, if only because demanding he let you go would show your tears. “I didn’t mean that,” he says quietly, and you can hear the pity in his voice. “I spoke in anger, I did not mean to upset—”
“Get those hands off me,” you snarl, turning on him with defensive ire blazing in your pupils. Rage fresh from the forges.
He recoils as if you burned him. Retreats a step.
“Not nice, is it? Targeting someone’s insecurity—rubbing salt into an open wound?” You snap, blinking away the tears and pulling your arm back to yourself. “Don’t come asking me for updates on Elain again. I don’t want to talk to you if your only interest is in getting between her legs.”
He’s silent for a moment, and you debate just running from the library—you can feel the storm in him brewing, and you’re not sure you’re ready for him. But he doesn’t wait for you to decide, because the storm breaks right then and there. “At least she has someone interested in getting her into bed,” he says softly, hazel piercing into you. “Can you say the same?”
Mortification flushes your skin, mouth parting in humiliation. “I—…This is inappropriate,” you hiss to hide your burning shame. Because no, it’s always been Elain and Nesta to be pursued. His eyes gleam, reading your thoughts clear as day in your expression. “Thought not.”
Pain twists viciously across your chest, heart strings being plucked within an inch of snapping—pulled taught around your throat. “If I’ve never taken a man to bed, it is not because I am unwanted. Rather that I would not waste my self nor my time on someone I was not sure about. That I did not want with everything I have,” you whisper hoarsely—the final layer stripped bare for him to slice and dissect.
But then he steps forward, and without thinking, you yield a step. He’s not perturbed, and takes another. “You admit you have no experience in bed, yet think you could handle me?” He snarls softly, wings flaring ever so slightly at his back, shadows thickening. “I don’t think it’s a matter of handling you, Azriel.” His name is a little more than a whisper from your mouth. One he tracks eagerly.
“No?” He asks, stepping forward again, slowly herding you. “Then what?” You swallow, trying to stand your ground, but the sense of him is so overpowering, he threatens to obliterate every ounce of your own self. “I think it would be a matter of learning. And if you think I’m unprepared, then Elain is definitely no better off, so that clearly isn’t your issue.”
“At least she’s shared the bed of a man before, at least she would know what to do.” You don’t correct him that you have, in fact, shared a bed with a male before. A few in fact, by this point. Nesta’s the bad influence. He steps forward again, and he’s towering over you, hazel glittering between his shadows. “At least she wouldn’t lose her head over the slightest touch.”
And then his hands have landed softly on your hips, and your head is silent. Only his touch on your body, his warmth on your skin, seeping into your clothes. Does he find your shape pleasing? Is he feeling this mind-numbing shock? The tingling at his fingertips where they’re pressing into you?
For a too-long moment you just stare at him, thoughts eddying about without a destination, floating throughout your conscious.
“Still in there?” He taunts quietly, pushing you back, turning you gently as he feels the heat radiating from your skin, the stiffness to your body beneath his touch. It’s only when a hard, wooden shelf digs into the base of your spine that you realise he’s pushed you against the case. You open your mouth—to say what, you don’t know. He beats you to it either way. “You want to prove you haven’t already lost your mind?” He says softly, voice like a lover’s touch. You can do nothing but stare at him, panting softly, completely at his mercy. “Tell me to stop, or I’ll keep going. Say no, and it finishes,” he murmurs, keeping you pressed tight between his hips and the book case. “But I think you’ve already lost.”
You blink up at him, hardly a thought behind your eyes.
In the back of your mind, you’re struggling frantically to decode his words, translate them into something that makes sense. And then his challenge clicks, and you take a sudden, deep breath. You need to tell him to stop, to show him you’re still in control of yourself—that you haven’t lost your head over the slightest touch.
But then his mouth latches over yours, tongue prying your lips apart, and your efforts of rebellion are washed away. You go all warm, and soft, and pliable in his hands, melting like butter as you coat him. His piercing hazel eyes lock with yours as his mouth slants, one hand rising to the curve of your spine, pulling you against his front.
How are you supposed to stand against him when he annihilates everything that you are with the softest brush of his fingers—fingers that are now tracing up the path of your spine, reaching that final notch as they tangle with delicious pressure in your hair. His gaze cuts into you as his tongue drags across your own, flicking at the roof of your mouth.
He’s utterly unruffled, and you feel like you’re on the verge of bursting into flame right there, setting him ablaze in the process.
But then you’re again subverting his expectations, your hands flying over his shoulders as you tilt your head to allow him deeper. The only sign of surprise he allows is a blink of his eyes, but you’re already lifting onto your tiptoes—the swell of your breasts dragging over his chest in a way you must’ve learned males like. But where would you have learned?
Your arms tighten, then your hips are pressing against him, and—you’re fighting back, he realises. And for the first time in a long, long time, he feels excitement flare deep inside him as you stride to meet him. No matter that you aren’t Elain: he’s hungry, and you can make your own decisions. If you want him to stop, you need only say the word, and he’ll be off you. But if you don’t…well, he’s not going to be the one who backs out first.
He has a damn point to prove—that you have no idea what you’re getting into with him.
Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb
#azriel#acotar#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#shadowsinger#Azriel angst#Azriel x Archeron sibling#part one#Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You
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hi! can u write caitlin clark x reader where caitlin is dating a popstar like as big as taylor swift? pls and thank u
# END GAME
pairing: caitlin clark x popstar!reader
word count: 2493
warnings: none!
summary: caitlin acting like an obsessed fangirl when she shows up at your concert.
from lani: this is the oldest ask i have in my inbox and ive been tryna clear out reqs so bear with me y'all!! anyways i kinda like this tbh and might write a part two soon! also here is a link to the full piano version of end game from the eras tour if yall wanna watch that 😋
“GOD, I ACTUALLY have no idea why i’m like, nervous,” caitlin smiles shyly as she thinks out loud. she was currently being recorded for “full court press,” a docu-series that featured her story along with kamilla cardoso’s and kiki rice’s.
the director wanted to get some shots of caitlin being a normal civilian (whatever the hell that means), so he instructed the videographer to follow her around this weekend. and it just so happened that this was the weekend she had tickets for your concert. your twenty-second concert of the tour. let’s just say it was no coincidence that you chose iowa city as the twenty-second show.
right now, she was in the front seat of her family’s car while her older brother, blake, drove them to the venue. caitlin’s phone was currently connected to the car’s aux so she, of course, had to play your music. she had an entire playlist for only your songs, but she would never tell that to anyone. not even you.
“yeah why are you nervous? you just need to like, chill,” her brother says.
“this is my first time seeing her perform since…y’know,” she smirks, hinting at her secret relationship with you.
she shoots a mischievous look to the camera, knowing full well that the audience that would watch this wouldn’t know for sure what she was talking about.
“remind me how you got us free tickets again?” blake fake-questions. he knew about the relationship, each of your families did. but for the sake of the camera recording their every move, he eggs caitlin on.
“i’m close…with her um…management,” she lies as she picks up her phone to text you. the time read “5:04” meaning it was only a few hours until you went on stage.
both of you were ecstatic to see each other here for the first time in months. with caitlin being busy with her basketball career and you traveling constantly on tour, it was difficult, to say the least. that’s one of the reasons tonight was special.
when planning out your tour, you requested that iowa city would be reserved for the twenty-second show of the north america leg and that it would be held at kinnick stadium. the reasoning behind it being the twenty-second show was obvious, as it was your girlfriend’s coveted jersey number.
the motivation for choosing kinnick stadium was that it was where you first met caitlin and where she broke an outstanding record with her team. you were one of the 55,646 people attending the iowa vs. depaul women’s basketball game in 2023. it became the most-attended women’s basketball game in history. you managed to get courtside tickets to the game and ended up getting to talk to caitlin after the win, which obviously led to something more valuable than friendship.
“have you ever talked to her? i heard she’s actually a fan of you,” her brother smirks.
“i’ve talked to her once in person,” she starts, lying of course, “it was actually here at kinnick when we played dupaul. she was in the audience, which was really cool.”
“oh that’s sick, actually. what about online? y’all don’t text or anything?”
“we do but, y’know, we’re not that close,” right as caitlin says this she receives a text from you saying the camera men were cleared for the show as long as they only recorded caitlin, not the show, “she just texted me actually,” she smiles big at the notification as she reads the text out loud. “how far are we from the stadium?”
“about ten minutes.”
“okay cool. i’m so excited, dude, you have no idea.”
“you’re such a fangirl,” blake laughs.
“okay we should have enough footage for now, we’ll start recording again once we get there or once the show starts,” the cameraman says from the backseat.
“sounds good, thank you,” caitlin replies as another text from you pops up on her screen.
my fav girl: can’t wait to see you babe i added a surprise to the setlist for you ☺️
my cc bby: omg no u didnt im alr so excited ur hyping me up even more
my fav girl: ur gonna love it trust 🫡
my fav girl: okay wait i gotta go get ready but ill see u soon!! love u!! 🤍
my cc bby: love u too ill see u out there!! 🤍
———
“i still can’t believe we’re here right now this is crazy,” caitlin says as she looks around the stadium that has started to fill with fans, “welcome to the ‘hits different’ world tour!” she motions to the stage behind her as she smiles at the camera with her arms up in the air.
your album “hits different” became a huge success in the past year. the internet buzzed with anticipation prior to the release and followed through with the praise the second it came out.
your fans posted reaction videos, theories, edits, the whole nine yards to show their appreciation. your songs were heard on radios, at bars, in school talent shows, literally everywhere.
the album was about growing from the mistreatment from former partners and finding true love again after too many instances of hurt.
and right at the center of your inspiration was caitlin. even before you began dating in private, she was your best friend who comforted you through your big breakup. she lifted you up when you felt like you could never get up again.
you poured your heart and soul into the album, expressing all your deepest emotions - positive and negative - through the power of your writing.
you won multiple awards for the project, including vmas for your creative music videos and grammys for your productions. the whole world knew your name. it was everything you ever wanted. but there were downsides.
aside from the expected criticism and hate comments, you faced more serious problems. you started receiving intense backlash for some of the lyrics in your song that dissed your exes, and some people didn’t like your boldness. they retaliated, making it seem like you were the villain despite being so badly hurt from your past relationships. people claimed you were “crazy” and a “drama queen.”
fortunately, the speculations and assumptions only empowered you further. the only thing you had to say to those comments was: “remind me, who’s worth billions of dollars and taking the world by storm right now?”
“where are we sitting, cait?” blake asks.
“we’re in the vip section actually which is insane.”
“dude how did you get vip pit tickets??”
“no, not in the pit, we have our own tent on the floor, i think.”
“no way, bro, you’re lying.”
“i swear! look, see! oh my god our names are on chairs!” she runs over excitedly like a little kid at a playground. the whole experience is making her giddy, acting like a proud mom or teenage fangirl.
“how did you swing this??”
“i have my ways,” she winks at the camera, “the show starts in like an hour so we can chill and maybe get some food? i wanna say hi to other fans and see how they’re feeling.”
and with that she’s rushing back out of the tent and up the stairs to the concession stands swarmed with fans. it’s like she forgets she’s famous too because she gets surprised when her own fans spot her and ask for pictures.
———
“how you guys doin’ out there?” you say into your mic as you walk across the stage to your piano. you hear a raging storm of cheering in response, “sounds good, sounds good,” you laugh. there’s truly nothing you loved more than performing and interacting with your fans.
“so…” you start as you begin to play a few chords softly, “tonight is a very special night for me, for this tour. it is the twenty-second show and we are here in iowa city and i don’t think i could feel any happier,” you beam as you hear more enthused cheers.
“there are many reasons why tonight is special but the most important being…this is where i first met my partner.” the loudest set of cheers yet. your fans were always up to date with your life. they knew boundaries, of course, but they couldn’t help their curiosity.
they cared about who you were with, there was no denying it, and they knew how you loved to draw your inspiration from your relationships. right now you only had one person in mind, but they had yet to figure out who it was exactly.
“and i wanted to give you all a little…gift, per se. let’s just say that i started working on a new album-“ an insane volume of screams cuts you off as you shake your head and laugh. “aw thanks! okay anyways, i’ve been very excited to post for you guys tonight and to see my partner who, yes, is in the crowd, so i wrote a little song.” more screams.
“-and i wanted to get your opinions on it! so here we go, this is the acoustic version of a new song called end game.”
you begin to sing an altered version of the upbeat song over the hums of the piano. the stadium was the quietest it had been all day as fans listened attentively to your lyrics.
little did you know, caitlin was having a mental breakdown of excitement. her face was as red as a tomato and she was practically shaking.
she loved when you would mention her but not mention her. she loved knowing that your relationship was just yours at the moment. she loved knowing that no one could take it away from you. she loved knowing that you were only hers.
and right now, as you make your way through the song, she’s paying close attention to your words. this whole announcement was news to her, and she assumed it was the surprise you had mentioned earlier. she was grinning ear-to-ear as she listened to your voice echo throughout the stadium.
she was entranced by you. the delicate yet passionate tone of your singing, the beaming smile on your flawless face, your bubbly conversations with the crowd - everything.
you had her full attention as you practically declared your love for her in front of thousands of people - millions if you wanted to count the fans that watched through live streams.
she was so enthralled that she didn’t even notice the cameraman pointing his equipment in her direction, capturing her hypnotized expression as she simply smiled watching you on the big screen. the viewers of the documentary would then know who she had fallen so hard for and who you dedicated many of your songs to, but she didn’t care.
all she cared about was you.
———
“thank you so much, iowa city i love you and we will see you all next time! get home safe please!!” you say into the mic as you begin to walk offstage. the sound of wild cheers, fireworks, and confetti cannons fill your ears.
as the final song of the show reaches its climax, you take a second to soak in the moment from the side of the stage. being a performer was one of your favorite parts of your job. you never got tired of any of it - the dancing, the singing, the fans - it was all part of why you started this in the first place.
a few minutes later, you are ushered away from the stage and back towards the dressing rooms to change out of your costume. you are handed a towel and water bottle as you make your way through the concrete tunnel with your staff right behind you.
“y/n, you have a few guests that wanna say hi, would you like me to let them through?” your assistant asks you.
“who are they?” you reply. you weren’t expecting anyone to stay at the venue after the show. you insisted you would meet caitlin and her family back at the hotel so it couldn’t be her, right?
“oh they’re just over there actually,” she responds with a pointed finger, “do you recognize them?”
you follow her direction with furrowed brows only to be met with the familiar faces of your girlfriend and her brother. your jaw drops in shock as you immediately run over to her now outstretched arms.
when you jump to hug her, you both almost fall to the floor from the impact. her arms snake around your waist as she lifts you with ease, squeezing you tightly.
“hi,” you breathe out with a smile, nuzzling your neck into her tall frame.
“hi, princess,” she whispers into your hair.
“i thought we were meeting up at the hotel for dinner? i didn’t think you guys would stay here!”
“you think i could wait that long to see you when i could just finesse my way backstage??”
you laugh at her phrasing, the sound instantly making caitlin melt. “i missed you so much, dude, you have no idea.”
“i missed you too,” she smiles brightly as she sets you back down on the ground. her large hands move to cup your flushed cheeks, “you did so good out there, baby, i’m so proud of you.”
“thank you, cait, that really means a lot to me,” you say sincerely as you momentarily depart from her to greet her brother, “hey blake, how you doin’? enjoy the show?”
“i’m doin’ good, y/n, and yeah, i mean, it was incredible, really,” he answers as he goes to hug you.
“love to hear that, i’m glad you guys had fun!” you reach for caitlin’s hand, holding it gingerly as you begin to walk in the direction of the awaiting golf cart, “i have to change out of this really quick before we go but i’m gonna ask for a space for you guys to hangout in the mean time.”
“what, you mean you have to change out of that sparkly leotard and those four-inch heels?” the brunette jokes.
“i know it’s crazy, i actually wanted to keep everything as pj’s,” you play along as the two of you move to sit on the back of the golf cart.
while you two were entangled in each other’s presence, you failed to notice the cameraman, once again, recording your interaction. he made sure to get both of your permissions to add the clips into the documentary, but he couldn’t help but capture the authentic smiles on both of your faces. he knew that the viewers would be able to feel the love through the screen and be overwhelmed with joy for the two of you.
after tonight’s events, you and caitlin knew that the public would eventually be able to figure out the clues left that all pointed to your intimate relationship.
you were both aware of the consequences, the potential feedback from the internet, but their opinions didn’t matter. the only thing that mattered was that you really were each other’s end games.
#leilanihours#laniwrites#caitlin clark#caitlin clark fluff#caitlin clark smut#caitlin clark x reader#wnba#indiana fever#university of iowa#wcbb#wbb#ncaaw#fluff#part one#x reader#taylor swift#end game#reputation#music#wlw#lgbtq
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My giiiiirls
#marauders#marauders fanart#art#fanart#marlene mckinnon#dorcas meadowes#mary mcdonald#lily evans#marlene mckinnon fanart#dorcas meadows fanart#mary macdonald fanart#lily evans fanart#gorgeous women#I love them#part one
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the midwest on film
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Slashers as fathers with a child reader.
Notes: 100% NON-ROMANTIC. Platonic love only. Non-binary reader. The reader is less than ten years old (you decide the age). Freddy is alive and NOT a pedophile.
Summary: The slasher fathers feeling guilty after hurting their child's feelings. PART ONE.
Freddy Krueger
It felt like he had been a completely different person when he did it. Work had been stressing him out, parts of the house needed fixing, and he was a single parent. He wasn't getting enough rest. Eventually every little thing began to get to him.
Freddy hadn't been in his right mind when it happened. You loved making pictures for him, and one day you decided to nail some pictures on the wall by yourself. Not only had you nailed the pictures too low, but you had also accidentally made a large hole in the wall.
The incident had caused Freddy to explode. Not only did he yell at you for ruining the wall, but he ended up tearing one of your pictures in half. "I don't need this shit," He had shouted at you, "You think I feel like dealing with that? You ruined my wall, (y/n), and now I gotta fix it. I just- I can't... Ugh."
Freddy had avoided you for the remainder of the night- not because he was mad at you but because he was afraid he 'would' get mad at you again. It was a bad idea. He should have apologized for the way he acted. Because the next day when he woke up and went into his office, he noticed that every picture you had drawn him had been torn from the nails on the wall, shredded up and shoved in the trash.
Horror, heartache and regret immediately consumed his guilty conscience, and he rushed to find you. You were in your room playing with toys. It nearly destroyed him to see the way you flinched and scurried to hide behind a laundry basket.
"(y/n)," Freddy went to kneel in front of you, "Sweetie, what did you do? Why did you tear up daddy's pictures?"
"Because," You whimpered, keeping your teary face hidden, "You said you didn't need them. You... You tore it in half. I... I'm sorry, daddy. Hic... I-I-I'm sorry th-that I-I made a hole in the wall, an-and I'm sorry th-that you h-h-hate my pictures."
The amount of sadness, regret and complete and utter crushing guilt that fell upon Freddy was suffocating. Hearing your broken apology and seeing the way you were shaking caused him to be so disappointed with himself. He couldn't believe what he had done. Why did he do that? He would never do anything to cause you to feel this way, and he 'loved' your pictures.
And yet look what he caused. Not only did he hurt your feelings by being cruel, but he lost all of his near and dear pictures- even the ones you made when you were a toddler. They were all destroyed.
"I-I'll never color again," You swore in a loud whine.
"Oh no, sweetie, no," Freddy attempted to get closer to you, frowning heavily when you flinched at his touch, "Please don't do that. Listen- hey, look at me. I need you to look at me."
And when you did look at him, Freddy felt like punching himself in the face. You looked so scared, so sad and unbearably hurt. Oh gosh, what had he done? Why?
"Oh (y/n)..." Freddy sighed, shaking his head, "I'm so sorry. Yesterday I... I was just in such a bad mood an-and not because of you but because.... Look, (y/n), daddy didn't mean to act the way he did, and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that I yelled at you and I'm especially sorry that I did that to your picture. I regret it so much, you have no idea. Please... I'm sorry. I 'love' your pictures (y/n), please don't stop making them."
As Freddy eagerly waited for a brightened response from you, his heart sunk from his chest when you turned your back to him and quietly mumbled, "I wanna play with my toys please."
Excuses and more apologies sat on Freddy's tongue, but he denied saying them for he believed that you simply needed time to forgive him. "Ok sweetie," He got up to leave, "If you need anything, come get daddy, ok?"
"Ok, daddy."
While, over time, you did warm back up to your father, you never did say that you forgave him. And Freddy never got another picture. And he would never, ever stop regretting what he had done.
Michael Myers
Michael was overwhelmed by the frustration work caused. Due to lack of loyal employees, he was forced to work over-time and pull extra shifts. He was sore, tired and angry. It felt like he was the only person at work who ever did anything right.
And that anger built and built until it eventually brought out the worst in him and made him do something that he would regret for the rest of his life.
You loved (sport) and had been outside practicing with some of the neighbors. Michael had been inside attempting to relax when suddenly one of the living room windows shattered. He flinched and rushed to his feet, red clouding his vision when he saw a familiar ball on the floor.
On his way to the door, you ran inside breathless and gasping, "Ah! I'm sorry, daddy, it's my fault. I-I accidentally threw the ball too hard and-"
Michael, with his emotional bridge broken, raised his hand to cut you off. A seething scowl took place upon his face, and he began to lecture you out in sign language. "I don't wanna hear excuses. Why were you playing so close to the house? You should know better. Now look at what I have to fix. All I want is to relax and now I can't because of your stupid (sport). Why do you even play (sport)? You're not even good at it."
Even though his words were literally silent, the crushed look on your face explained that you knew exactly what he had said. Michael ignored your crestfallen face and quiet sobs and demanded that you help him clean up the glass before sending you to your room. Yes, your friends had watched the whole thing.
Michael's seething attitude didn't diminish until the next day after he got some good sleep. He soon realized that he felt bad for how he treated you yesterday and decided that he wanted to apologize. But when he went to your room, he was stricken to see all of your favorite sports gear sitting in a trashcan. (sport) merchandise and even pictures you drew were also in the trashcan.
Overcome with concern, Michael wandered to your bed where you were hiding underneath your blanket. When he tapped on you, you twitched but otherwise kept pretending to be asleep. So he tried again.
You caved and lowered the blanket. Michael didn't like the way you winced at him, your eyes squinted as if you were expecting the worst out of him. He quickly used sign language to ask, "What is going on? Why are you throwing all your (sport) stuff away?"
"I..." Your voice was hesitant and quiet as you gazed away, "I don't like (sport) anymore. I... I-I'm not good at it, an-and you h-hate me playing it, an-and I'm sorry that I broke the window... I'm sorry, daddy. I promise-huh... I-I-I'll never play (sport) again."
What? Michael's eyes nearly popped out, regret, guilt and fear clouding his soul. Oh no. What had he done? You didn't like (sport) anymore? And all because he had overreacted and told you that you weren't any good at it. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. It couldn't be like this. You couldn't stop doing what you loved all because he was stupid and having a bad day.
Sitting down on the edge of your bed, Michael quickly explained with sign language, "But you are good at (sport). Don't quit. I was having a bad day, I didn't mean to say that stuff. You don't have to quit. I'm sorry that I said that. Don't quit playing (sport), you love it."
Your lips wobbled and you turned your head away, your voice a broken whisper, "Ca-an I sleep some more before school. Please?"
Your lack of an answer both irritated Michael and broke his heart. He became angry at himself and regretful about what he had done. He wanted to talk to you more about it, but decided not to. Hopefully you would think about his apology and take all of your (sport) stuff out of the trash.
But, unfortunately for Michael, you never did get back into (sport), and he never got to stop feeling guilty about it.
Bo Sinclair + Uncle Vincent and Lester
Bo could admit that, on the surface, he had a very fragile temper. Ever since he had you he had tried his hardest to hide all the ugly parts of himself, especially his anger. Any time he began to lose his temper, he usually stomped off somewhere by himself to maybe punch something and take a moment to breathe.
So far he had done a fairly decent job.
Up until today that was.
It had been a long week. It was summer. Tourists were pouring in at random needing fast work done to their vehicles. The gas station and church needed extra attention. It was hot outside. And, once again, Bo had a very fragile temper.
It happened when he was elbow deep in truck externals. Ever since you could walk you had always been his little helper. Already at your age your dream was to be an engineer, but you still had a lot to learn. And the fact that you had a lot to learn is what caused Bo to snap.
With the impatience of the person waiting on their vehicle to be fixed, Bo also became impatient. You had been trying to help him, bringing him tools he needed.
Whenever you brought him one too many of the wrong tools, he ended up throwing a wrench and his hat to the ground. "What is your fuckin' problem?" He shouted at you, "Are ya stupid? If ya can't bring me what I need then get the fuck outta here."
You had flinched, tears immediately filling your eyes as you carefully backed up. Bo continued to give you a serious, livid glare that scared you, his words ringing in your head and shattering your heart. He watched you run away, his chest pounding with guilt he ignored as he finished his work.
Bo didn't see you for the remainder of the day, but he did check in with Vincent to make sure that you were alright. As night fell, he became more calm and relaxed, and soon he felt absolutely horrible for how he treated you. He sat on his bench rubbing his forehead in distress for almost an hour wishing he could take it all back.
He had shown you one of his worst sides. And it had hurt you. Now what was he supposed to do? He called you 'stupid'.
Unfortunately for Bo, he didn't get a chance to apologize that night for Vincent soon brought him a note explaining that Lester had taken you home with him for the weekend. Gosh darn it. He really wanted to apologize.
But his apology had to wait for- not one week or two weeks- but a whole month. That's how badly you were trying to avoid him. It was more than enough time for Bo to sit and think about his mistakes.
When Lester finally brought you home, Bo was grateful that you didn't appear to be angry or sad. You rushed to him and gave him a big, welcoming hug that soothed his core, "Daddy!"
"Hey, critter bug," Bo chuckled, ruffling your hair, "Missed you. Guess what? Some ol' couple brought in a beat up station wagon. Needs fixin'. Wanna help?"
"No thank ya," You said casually, leaning away from him, "I don't wanna be a engineer anymore."
Bo's world stopped rotating. "What?" He gave you a stabbed look, "But ya love doin' that stuff?"
"Not anymore," Your voice turned into a lightly disappointed mumble.
Bo's mouth went completely dry. He didn't know what to do or say. All of this time apart he thought that you would have gotten over his temper tantrum, but apparently you 'really' got over it. He had been the boulder that crushed your dreams. And it...
It almost made him wanna cry.
Bo swallowed, trying not to seem too beaten down, "But... Who's gonna be my helper?"
You smiled and pointed to the man standing beside the truck, "Uncle Lester will."
"Right..." Bo nodded, his chest aching with guilt, self-hatred, regret and sadness, "Right."
You never helped him with another car again.
Hannibal Lecter
Hannibal liked to believe that he was the ultimate best at keeping his temper under control. He never got mad at you or expressed any negative emotions towards you. If you needed to be taught a lesson, then he would sit with you and have a firm, constructive conversation about how you needed to improve.
Your bond was strong and healthy and it made Hannibal proud. You even took after him by wanting to be a professional cook. And Hannibal was ecstatic to help you carry that dream into reality.
But one day all of his pride, arrogance and content came to an end.
You had woken up before him that morning and had snuck to the kitchen to make him breakfast. However, things went south and you accidentally ended up breaking one of his rarest, most treasured dishes- a dish that was literally one of it's only kind on the whole planet. And it upset him.
"I-I'm sorry, daddy," You had apologized desperately, "I-I just thought since you liked the plate so much you would also like eating off of it. I didn't mean to break it!"
Hannibal, his heart racing and his nerves burning with anger, had said almost too vastly, "And what lead you to believe that I would enjoy such horrible cooking on my most treasured dish? You knew these pieces were not meant to be eaten off of, yet you disrespected me anyway."
"Horrible cooking?" You murmured.
Because Hannibal was hurt, he couldn't resist the urge to make you hurt as well. "Yes. You are an awful cook. Your presence in this kitchen has always been a waste of time."
The way your eyes widened with hurt and how your hands immediately flew to your chest would be a sight that haunted Hannibal for the rest of his life. Slowly your eyes closed and you began to cry, your hands going to cover your face as you ran away, a sobbed "I'm sorry" echoing through the hall.
Instead of feeling satisfied that he hurt your feelings as intended, Hannibal immediately felt remorseful and guilty. Goodness. He knew that you were young and didn't mean to break his plate. He just... He just treasured the dish so much and now it was ruined forever. He let his emotions get to him, and he hurt you in the process. While it was your fault, he didn't blame you. You were innocent and you just wanted to make him happy.
After he cleaned up his broken dish, Hannibal searched for you and found you snuggled up on the couch. He sat in front of you and spoke calmly, "I'm sorry for getting angry at you. It wasn't my intention. You were just trying to make me breakfast and wound up making a mistake. It happens to all of us."
"I'm sorry..." You whimpered, obviously still upset.
"It is alright," Hannibal reached out and gently squeezed your shoulder. "I'll get started on breakfast."
"Can I help?" You asked hopefully.
Hannibal gave you a hesitant grimace, "I think it would be best if you skipped helping me in the kitchen for today."
Instantly your eyes puffed red and turned watery. Hannibal left you alone to exhale your emotions. He knew that you would be upset for a while, but he too was also upset. He just needed some time is all.
But apparently he was wrong yet again.
After that day, you never helped Hannibal in the kitchen again. For weeks after the incident, you didn't even eat the food that he cooked. It was like you banned yourself from the kitchen entirely. He had tried to coax you into helping him, but you always found excuses not to.
Soon Hannibal learned that he had destroyed your passion for cooking by making you believe that you were a terrible chef. And he regretted it so much that it was nearly unbearable. Hannibal couldn't handle mistakes he couldn't fix.
And no matter how hard he tried, he knew that he could never mend your feelings that he severed.
-
In part two I planned to age up the reader and have them secretly doing their passion behind their dad's back. And the slasher will find out and be like "what, I thought you gave up on that! Holy sh*t, I'm so happy". And the reader will be pleasantly surprised.
#dead by daylight fanfiction#slasher fanfiction#slashers as dads#child reader#reader x hannibal lecter#michael myers x reader#freddy krueger x reader#bo sinclair x reader#lester sinclair#vincent sinclair#platonic love only#no romantic relationships#father figure#part one
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Ok i notice that
Lucifer have the same personality as Pouncer(httyd toothless son)
And Alastor like the light fury :0
Must be the slit eyes and autism. XD JK JK!! -Bubbly💙
#spacebubblearts#HHStargazersAU#doodle#practicing with some other pens#have a messy sketch thingy!#radioapple#human au#appleradio#part one#hazbin hotel#alastor x lucifer#lucifer x alastor#hazbin alastor#lucifer morningstar#overlord
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mission: impossible dead reckoning part one (2023) is my favourite comedy film
#tom cruise#film#movie#ethan hunt#huntmavs edit#mission impossible#edit#midr#mi7#mission impossible dead reckoning#part one#hayley atwell#grace#benji dunn#simon pegg#rebecca ferguson#ilsa faust#ving rhames#luther stickell#eugene kittridge#henry czerny#shea whigham#jasper briggs#greg tarzan davis#degas#pom klementieff#Paris
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LISTEN; MATTHEO RIDDLE SMUT
stalker mattheo knows a lot about you, stuff nobody else knows.
MY BACK IS PRESSED AGAINST A TREE, thick book resting in the palm of my hands, pages flicking over in the wind. I haven’t been able to focus for the past five minutes, all I’ve done is stare out at the water, watching the leaves move with the wind.
The wind blows against me, fly aways falling into my eyes, repeatedly. I huff, tugging the strands behind my ears, but it’s no use.
I get close to getting up and leaving, but the sound of leaves crunching a little behind me steals my attention. Not many people know about the black lake, which is pretty odd because you’d expect the exact opposite, right?
My eyes focus on a tall figure, curly hair, muscular body. I can’t quite pinpoint who he is - til he gets closer, not noticing me under the big tree closest to the water.
I exhale a deep breath, about to get up and leave, again, but he steals my attention away. Slipping his black shirt over his head, tossing it by my feet.
His back muscles stare right at me and I can’t help but slam my thighs together, hoping he didn’t hear the slap of my skin. I breathe heavily, eyes wandering down his well toned figure.
Thick thighs stand out to me, sending wild thoughts running through my brain. A wet patch forms on the front of my lace panties, clit throbbing for him.
Mattheo Riddle, the dark lords son, someone they say is extremely dangerous. One they avoid in the halls, never daring to make eye contact with him. In my honest opinion, I think they’re over exaggerating. If he was a dangerous person, he would’ve done something by now and he hasn’t.
He keeps to himself and minds his business.
It kinda breaks my heart. He doesn’t have any friends, because people would rather judge him than get to know him. Stuck up rich kids with slyly torment him, trying to rile him up, but he ignores it.
“Are you done staring at me, y/n?” His deep voice speaks, making my stomach flutter with a flock of butterflies. That’s the first time I’ve heard him speak in two years.
The last time he spoke, he was apologising for getting in my way. If he was so dangerous, why would he apologise?
He clears his throat, pulling me out of my messy train of thoughts. “S-Sorry..Um, I’ll leave!” I exclaim, but he shakes his head at me, running his wet hand through his, now wet curls.
I push my thighs together once more, my face growing red at the way his stare makes me feel. “Did I say you had to leave?” He asks, raising his brows at me.
My heart beats even faster, so fast I fear it might pump out of my chest. “Well what do you want me to do?” I question, trying my best not to sound scared of him. It’s not that I’m scared of him, he’s just incredibly gorgeous and it makes me nervous.
Too nervous to speak.
“Take your shirt off.” He smiles, crossing his arms over his chest. My breath hitches, eyes widening at his words. His brown eyes stare into my blue ones, something glistening in them, something I can’t figure.
“My shirt?” I test, raising my brows, a smirk crossing over my face. He laughs, looking down at his chest. My body lifts, back no longer pressed against the painful back that was digging into my skin.
I slowly pull my shirt up, over my head, dropping it on top of his. He looks back up, face growing red when he looks at my cleavage. My smirk grows as I put my hands out, waiting for him to help my body into the water.
He takes my hands into his, turning me into liquid with just his touch. All of my confidence evaporates, on the spot, hairs that lie on the back of my neck sticking up. “T-Thank you.” I mumble, looking away from his gorgeous face.
Now that I’m in the water, the wetness of my arousal is easier to ignore. Mattheo and I’s hands are still touching, intertwined. The tension between us quickly grows, his eyes flickering down to my lips.
“Fuck, this is bad.” I speak, bursting the silence. He raises his brows at me, tilting his head in confusion. The curls on his head flop to the side, making me almost giggle at how cute it is.
“What’s bad?” He asks, confused look quickly turning into a excited, yet evil look. “Maybe you getting wet at my muscles, slamming your thighs together in hopes the throbbing dies down?” He ponders, letting my hands go, stepping closer to me.
I quiver, eyes widened, face tomato red. “Or maybe it’s the fact that you want me to fuck you right now?” He continues, fucking with your mind.
Anger boils in your chest as you step forward, slamming your hands against his wet chest. “First of, fucker! It’s considered rude to invade my mind without consent!” I shout, glaring up at the man with audacity probably bigger than his dick.
He scoffs, grabbing my throat in his veiny hand. “You must be really horny to be thinking of how big my dick is, huh?” He laughs, leaning down to my face.
“You’re thinking of fucking my tits, Mattheo. Don’t act so fucking innocent.” I retort, glaring harder at him. He lets my throat go, a look of shock on his face.
The two of us remain silent, our eyes locked, deep diving into one another’s brain. I grow tired of it, leaning up to finally smash my lips against his.
He kisses back, wrapping his arms around my body, pulling me to his chest. My breast press up against his chest, causing him to grow hard against my body.
“Tsk, tsk. You just got hard because of a stranger, that’s gotta be a little embarrassing.” You tease, not expecting him to say what he says..
“You’re not a stranger baby.”
—
A/n; I really don’t know what this is, but I’m really obsessed with the quiet kid trope. Mainly because I’m obsessed with a quiet kid at school 😃😃
Anyways, please send in some suggestions for what smut to write and who it’s ab!! Should I do pt 2?
#mysmutty#harrypotter#hp fancast#hp smut#smut#part one#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle smut#mattheoxreader#mattheo x y/n#mattheo x you#thedarklordsson#benjamin wadsworth#spicy stuff#i need sex#hope you enjoy#i wanna fuck him so bad
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Chin Up, Buttercup
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3,084
Warnings: Fluff! Southern Mommy Wanda. More fluff.
Summary: It's your big break, but the one person you want to support you isn't there when you need her.
A/N: I wrote this in like 24 hours, but yolo.
Part Two Part Three
“I’m so proud of you, darlin’.” The woman’s voice filled the calmness surrounding the two of you with a certain… delicacy that could only be made by her. It had a certain drawl to it, words weighed down by the sticky sweetness of the southern accent that clung thickly to her honey filled words. Everything about the moment was soft, something Wanda gave you endlessly, especially after the hours upon hours you had spent on your work.
It had taken you years to get to this point. To be able to finally put it up on display for the rest of the world, except for one. Wanda. You hadn’t stopped talking about it for weeks. Had it marked on every calendar the two of you shared, and even then some more.
And yet, she had missed it. Had gotten scheduled on some bullshit meeting that could get her fired from the company. You had told her multiple times that you could support the two of you, that your book would break record sales and neither of you would ever have to work again. Of course, that was wishful thinking, but it’s what had gotten you this far, isn’t it?
Wanda had left early that morning, earlier than normal, with a kiss to your head, a silent promise that she’d be home that night. It felt like a silent apology that she couldn’t make it to your first booktalk.
It was okay, though. You were a big girl who didn’t need Wanda at your side for everything you did. You tried to tell yourself that for the rest of the day, that you could do it all by yourself, even if it pulled heavily at your heart.
You did your best to pull through your day. You ate breakfast alone, debating on tearing the sticky note Wanda had left you a message on like other days she didn’t have time to eat with you before. It felt far too literal, though. Like that post it note was your heart and every little tear made it hurt even more. You settled for crumpling it up, tossing it across the empty dining table, a hard reminder of how utterly lonely you truly were.
You sat alone when you were getting your makeup done, your outfit picked out. You would blame the tears in your eyes on your makeup. Wanda was the one who dolled you up. But she had work. For hours you told yourself you could do it. You could stand up in front of a crowd and talk about the book you had spent all of your adult and most of your teen years writing, pouring every ounce of love, hatred and everything in between in it. It didn’t feel real, though.
Since you had met her, you had envisioned her next to you at this moment. Instead, you stood by yourself with a podium in front of you, the small beaded friendship bracelet twisted between your fingers. Wanda had randomly bought the kit for you one day and you had insisted she make one with you. They were matching, the only difference being your names on the piece of string.
“Thank you all again for coming.” Despite your earlier feelings of loneliness, you smiled brightly into the microphone, more than aware of the amount of photographers and press there.
Gingerly closing the book, you stepped away from the podium, scooping the item into your arms. Agatha pulled you towards a secluded corner, your team surrounding you. Right next to Wanda, she had been your number one supporter since you brought the rough draft to her. She signed you within a few hours, taking on the role as your editor and publicist like it was nothing.
“Good job out there, toots.” The brunette clapped your back, a toothy smile brightening her features. You smiled up at her, hardly able to hear her over the roar of your own heart beating along with the crowd of people ready to have their books signed by you. “Say, you keep wooing crowds like that and you’re gonna sell out in no time, kid.”
“Really?” The hope in your voice brought forth a new youthfulness to you, like you were a kid again. In a way, you were. You had wanted this since you had started writing, and here you were, your first book published and with a second well on its way.
“With that cute tush of yours? Everyone will be wanting more, sweets.” Agatha threw an over exaggerated wink at you as she laughed, using the hand that hadn’t left your shoulder as a support of sorts. Your smile faltered just slightly, a blush coloring your cheeks. It was something Wanda liked to tease you about, how easily it was to get you riled up. You would deny it forever, even though you knew she was right. “Speaking of everyone, where’s that ragamuffin of yours?”
The smile on your face almost immediately sank. You had been so busy the entire day that you hadn't had time to think about Wanda, let alone the fact that she wasn’t there. Agatha hardly noticed your change in demeanor, too focused on the buzz around you. “She… she had work.”
“Oh, that’s too bad, toots. I’m always here if you need a plus one.” Rather than comforting you, the woman shimmied beside you, yet another wink thrown your way. You had learned that she was like that sometimes. Way too much to handle. So you smiled and nodded, trying not to let the thought that your girlfriend wouldn’t be there to support you.
“Only kidding! Well, unless you two say otherwise. You know where to call me!” Agatha stepped away from her, her hand finally pulling away from your shoulder. It was the first time you felt like you could actually breathe during the entire interaction. You loved the woman, truly, but she could be a lot. “Go enjoy your party, hot stuff, you deserve it!”
And with that, the woman left, presumably to find the bar, leaving you to be pushed around by the rest of your team. You knew enough about the events of the day that you’d be signing books for the next hour, if not longer. You were grateful for all the time Wanda had spent practicing your signature, a nice, loopy design that made you feel proud of yourself. It was all you could think about as you were swept over to the long table full of your book, pushed down into the singular chair at the table, a line that was longer than it should be waiting for your signature.
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
By the hour and a half mark, your hand was cramping, not used to writing with a sharpie for this long. The line felt like it had barely shrunken, still too long to see the end of. It was thrilling and disheartening at the same time; the faster you could sign all of these books and do whatever you were told, the faster you could get home to see Wanda. That had it’s own anxieties attached to it, but whether she could be here or not wouldn’t change how excited you were to see her. Sure, it sucked that she couldn’t be here. Really sucked, but you would be able to see her in a few hours and tell her all about your day. It would have to suffice.
Another hour passed before you could see the last ten or so people, the feeling of relief strong. You had been at it for over two hours now and, while you were beyond flattered and amazed to have this many people read your book, you were exhausted to say the least.
You wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in your lovers arms, but you knew it would be at least a few more hours before that was even plausible. Faces began to meld together as the line continued to shorten, each person looking a little more like the next. As the last person approached, you breathed a sigh of relief, not even looking up as a book was slid between your hands.
“Thank you for coming.” You gave the person, a woman based on the high rise jeans and blouse they were wearing from where your eyes didn’t travel up their body, a tired smile just barely tugging at your lips.
“What? No sugar for me, sweetheart?” The words themselves made you feel gross, though the voice was recognizable. Something about the soft timber of it was reminiscent, like a fond memory you couldn’t let go of.
You were sure your confusion was evident all over your face, what with the way your eyebrows pulled together and your hand stopped moving, though you couldn’t care less if the signature was ruined or not. Your eyes traveled up the, yes, woman’s body, a familiar map of beauty stood in front of you.
“Wanda?” Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of her.
She had really gone all out, dressed as nice as possible for your big event. She wore high waisted black dress pants, paired with a deep purple blouse with even darker flowers printed across it. She was wearing your favorite wedges of hers. Her dark, faded out roots were pulled up in a half up, half down style, the long locks flowing down her back. It took everything in you to not let the tears that had filled your eyes to spill, pushing the book and marker away from you as you used the table to stand.
“Hi, pumpkin.” Wanda’s southern accent was the best thing you had heard all day, instantly warming you like nothing else had.
You all but flung yourself into her arms, uncaring of how hard you had hit the table with your thigh. Wanda would tell you to be more careful about it later, would kiss it better, you knew. You didn’t care about anything other than being in her arms, though.
“Wanda.” You all but whimpered into her neck where you had almost immediately pushed your face. She smelled the same as always, an earthy undertone that paved way to the light lavender you knew was her favorite perfume, even though she hardly used it. It fully encapsulated you, making the tears in your eyes burn even more as her arms wrapped around you.
“It’s good to see you too, sweetheart.” Wanda laughed heartily, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. Her hands ran up and down your back, a gentle strength to them that had you wanting more, to be held even closer. The hand holding your bracelet, her right hand, settled at your waist, while the other settled at the base of your head, softly carding through her hair.
She had held you like this far too many times to count, but you still melted in her hold, your breath hitching. The woman held you against her as you continued to fight off tears, taking in the sweet scent that enveloped you, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.
Time was non-existent to you once again as she stood holding you, humming softly. The only thing that you knew was that it was nowhere near enough time when she pulled back, holding you at an arm’s length with a beaming smile. She traced her left hand up to your face, cupping your cheek as she searched your eyes. You couldn’t help but smile back, biting your lip as it continued to tremble. Wanda shook her head, tsking under breath as she dropped her hand down to grasp your chin, tugging your lip out from between your teeth.
“You did so good up there, sugar.” Wanda pressed a kiss against your cheek, easily turning your head with the finger on your chin to press another to your opposite cheek. The nudish brown pigment of her lipstick just barely transferred onto your skin, something the woman would take a wet thumb to in mere moments. She kissed your lips chastely before doing so, giving you barely enough time to process what was happening before she was licking her thumb and rubbing at the lip marks.
“B-but… you…” You did your best to protest, shaking your head from side to side as you tried to escape her grasp. None of it made sense. She would’ve just gotten off of work maybe half an hour ago and would’ve had to book it through heavy rush hour traffic to get to your talk. There’s no way she could’ve seen you on the podium, let alone giving your speech.
“I what, hun? Use your big girl words now.” The brunette fixed you with a stern look as she stopped scrubbing at your cheek, tipping your head up. You couldn’t help but stare at her. The nude lip she had brought out the green in her eyes, the bright sun shining through the open windows forming something akin to a halo around her. She was gorgeous. Something straight out of one of your stories. It helped that the main character’s love interest had more than a few things in common with the woman.
“You… you were at work.” Your head cocked to the side just slightly, something you had definitely picked up from the woman, eyebrows furrowing. You pulled at your bracelet, the elastic snapping at your skin with a nice popping noise as the beads rattled. Wanda tsked, shaking her head as she grabbed your left wrist, pity written all over her face.
“Oh my, precious. I wasn’t actually at work. I was tryin’ to surprise you.” Her lips turned downwards, bringing your wrist up to her mouth with a kiss. It was obvious she wasn’t pitying you because you had snapped yourself with your bracelet, but rather because she knew how worried you must’ve been all day. The bracelet issue just happened to be a part of it.
“And what did I tell you would happen if you kept snappin’ that bracelet?” Her tone was anything but mean, if not more questioning than condescending.
The words had you easily blushing, tilting your head down as if to hide it. “That I wouldn’t get it back until you say so.” Your right hand hung loose at your side, left still grasped by the woman. You knew her eyes would be full of sorrow if you looked up, instead keeping your eyes down as you scuffed the ball of your foot against the tile. “‘M sorry.”
“Then why do you keep doin’ it, love bug? It hurts mommy when your hurt yourself.” Wanda’s voice was as sorrowful as you knew her eyes were, a tone of hurt overflowing her words.
You couldn’t help but look up anyways, your breath hitching at the sight of glossy eyes and a frown. It wasn’t often that she got upset with you in public, yet something about the silly bracelet you wore every day had made her tear up. The sight made tears come to your own eyes, your frown mimicking hers.
“I’m sorry, I’m trying!” You pleaded softly, watching as she snaked her finger up your wrist, easily interlacing your fingers. It was hard resisting the urge to kiss her, rocking back and forth just slightly on the balls of your feet. You hadn’t meant to upset her, hadn't even realized you were fiddling with the elastic until she had said something about it.
“It’s okay, pumpkin. I know you’re tryin’ and I am so, so proud of you.” Wanda’s free hand came up to hold your cheek, smiling softly at you as her eyes roamed your body, finally taking you all in. She hadn’t seen you since the night before, unless the way you slept curled up against her this morning counted, and had been dying to see you for hours, but had held off in hopes of surprising you.
“My baby girl.” Despite the fact that you had both been moments away from crying, a fresh shade of red covered your face, a heat protruding off of your cheeks as the woman pinched it with one hand.
“Wanda.” You groaned, suddenly aware of the fact that you were very much still in public. Your body twisted with you as you glanced around the room, thankful to see that no one was paying you any attention. Which was funny, seeing as how it was your booktalk.
That being said, you could feel a pair of eyes on you that certainly weren’t Wanda’s, spinning in the woman’s arms once again until you saw your editor. She was looking at the two of you with something you couldn’t detect. Jealousy? Disdain? Whatever it was, Agatha sent you a smirk and a wink as soon as you made eye contact before turning away from you.
You turned back to Wanda, slotting yourself under her chin once more. “When can we go home?” You asked in a small voice, uncaring if she could hear you or not. Of course she could though, her lips smacking quietly together.
“Whenever you want, buttercup.” Wanda could tell something was wrong, the way her arms wrapped around you even tighter than before was enough for you to know. You took a deep breath, frantically running your hands through her long hair. It was curled, tighter than usual, but not terrible. You felt weird all of a sudden, like your editor hated you and the entire room was shrinking.
“Can… Is now okay?” You asked a little louder. Wanda nodded, only pulling away enough to lift your chin up enough to meet her eyes.
“O-okay, sweet pea. We can leave right now, that’s what you want?” The woman phrased it like a question, her voice soft if not a little confused. You had been so happy to see her just moments ago, but now wanted to go home. Sure, she knew you weren’t the biggest fan of crowds, she herself wasn’t either, but she thought you would’ve wanted to at least enjoy the party before you left.
Whatever it was, though, she was more than willing to take you home, leaving you with a kiss to let your team know you were leaving before leading you out to her car, buckling you in before taking her spot in the drivers side. She took your hand in hers, the letters of your names on your bracelets rubbing against each other as she drove off.
#jane's fics#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x y/n#wanda maximoff imagine#mommy wanda maximoff#southern mommy wanda maximoff#potentialy jealous agatha#part one
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#yeah uhhh let me just *ignores your 20 year slowburn and bypasses your divorce arc*#how this scene actually went cause I’m delusional#part one#house md#hilson#gregory house#greg house#james wilson#house md fanart#fanart#hatecrimes md#we were robbed of Wilson not calling house any variant of fucker or fuckhead
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So I have questions about Stripe #3 and I decided I'll answer them myself with a comic
This is part one and before anyone asks yeah I'm making this with the storyboard style in mind
Start | Next | Previous
#veearts#south park#craig tucker#tweek tweak#creek#sp fanart#mr. garrison#fan comic#idk how to tag this erm lol#wip comic#part one#ik I am not doing the style perfectly#but mayhaps I'll have it down by the end#anyway drawing like this is so fun
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My heart speaks for you (Part 1)
✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦
✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦
Pairing: Eris x f!reader
Word Count: 3.1k
Warnings: a bit fluff, slight angst, no other that I could think of
Summary: Y/n is the youngest child of the High Lord of the Night Court and lives a slightly different life than the rest of her family. But what happens, when an unexpected visitor enters the stage and decides to completely change her life?
Part 1 ⎮ Part 2 ⎮Part 3⎮Part 4⎮
✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦
The festivities were in full swing. All the guests wore breathtaking ball gowns and suits in every colour imaginable. And the shooting stars above us glistened like jewels from some long forgotten treasure.
It was Starfall at the Night Court and our High Lord and his High Lady had worked hard to prepare this stunning ball. This year they wished to open Velaris to everyone, so all the other Courts were invited to enjoy this magnificent night.
I stood on one of the many balconies at the House of Wind, gazing up at the wonderful night sky above me. The stars seemed magical as they came down one by one to greet us like old friends. I closed my eyes to worship this moment. The chatter of our guests echoed up to where I leaned against the marble railing. It cooled my skin, which was still hot and sweaty from all the dancing earlier. The sound of glass clinking, as people toasted each other. Sweet smelling pastries and other delicious treats hovered in the air. My mouth instinctively watered and I subconsciously smiled.
A lovely fresh spring breeze made my black silken dress swirl around my ankles. My hair stood on end at the sensation and I shivered. Taking a deep breath, I let the night-chilled air fill my lungs. I never wanted this tiny fragment of life to pass, as I enjoyed it to the full. Letting it sink into the deepest parts of my soul and surround me like a thick, cosy blanket. I could feel a warmth spreading all over my skin.
The fabric of my dress caressed my legs, as the wind brushed past it. It accentuated my body in all the right places, from my legs up to my hips and to my breasts. A silver necklace curled its way around my neck with a moonstone in shape of a teardrop set in the centre. It shimmered so brightly as if made of a star itself. To complete my look, I´d chosen some silver earrings. Also with a little moonstone.
The Cursed Princess of the Night.
That was my title. At least, that’s what other Fae called me.
I opened my eyes only to pull back suddenly, as a tall, red-haired Fae stood beside me, watching the Starfall. Apparently I must have been under some kind of spell, as I didn’t hear the man approach me from behind.
He was at least two heads taller than me and wore a dark crimson tunic with golden embroidery and a creamy white linen shirt underneath. The vest looked like it was made out of blood and the linen shirt perfectly showed off his toned muscles on his arm and chest. A few gold rings curled around his long, slender fingers. And his hair. I almost forgot how to breathe. His hair was a kaleidoscope of fiery colours. A blazing fire of red dawn and golden sunset. Neatly brushed back. He smelled of fresh parchment, rain and red wine. A warmth enveloped him, spreading until I could feel it shiver over my hot skin.
I knew exactly who was standing before of me. The short, flaming hair. The lean figure. His exquisite attire. Standing beside me was the heir of the Autumn Court.
Eris Vanserra.
Apparently, I had let my eyes roam over his form for too long, for when I shifted my gaze to look at his face, he was staring right at me. I´ve never felt so exposed in my entire existence. He watched me as if he could peer straight into my very soul. I was in a trance, an comfortable feeling settled in my stomach. Cauldron! He looks like as if he was carved out of fire itself! All I could do was stare at him in awe. His handsome features. The sharp jawline and his amber eyes. A mischievous smirk played across his full lips, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. Blushing, I looked down at my feet.
„What is a beautiful lady like you doing up here? Shouldn´t you be dancing with your family or perhaps with the guests?“ His voice sounded like a stream of molten gold. Delicate and charming, but with a hidden danger to it. I wanted to answer him. I really did. But… I just couldn´t. The words in my mind, but my mouth frozen.
When I didn´t respond, he tilted his head to the side. Like a fox staring at its prey. Something flickered in his eyes. Was that curiosity?
„Pardon me, where are my manners? I´m Eris Vanserra. Heir to the Autumn Throne.“ He threw an elegant hand gesture in my direction and bowed his head. A few strands of his bright red hair fell loose across his forehead, giving him a cheeky look.
„And you´re the Princess of Night, I suppose? Y/n, right?“ It was nothing but a statement. Of course he knew who I was. Not sure what to do, I just nodded quickly.
Gathering some strength, I looked him right in the eye and then leaned back on the balcony beside him. My eyes were on the city below us. Velaris. He simply hummed at me, his eyes also sweeping over the City of Starlight.
„It´s beautiful“, he commented, „but nothing compared to the view next to me, of course.“, his voice smooth as silk. I´d never met the Autumn Court heir in person, but I knew of his reputation. It was said he was a cruel and arrogant man. There was no trace of it now. Still I couldn´t help but smile shyly at his compliment. Daring a glance in his direction, I blushed uncontrollably. He stared at me again, a shameless grin on his face. What was going on? Normally, I´m not one to be flattered easily. Must be the alcohol…
I smiled and nodded gratefully at him before turning my gaze back to Velaris. Enjoying the view of the city. My home.
„Can you keep a secret?“ A hint of humour flashed across his face. I looked at him with big doe eyes, waiting for him to continue. „Starfall looks lovely, but in my opinion, it´s nothing compared to the Autumn equinox.“ A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. „You should visit it one day. Definitely worth it.“ He stared off into the distance, as if lost in a memory. He then began to tell me about the autumn equinox, about his brothers, growing up in his fathers Court. If anyone else had seen us, they probably would´ve mistaken us for old friends. Was I genuinely surprised that he shared such private details of his life with me, a complete stranger? Yes. Did it bother me? No, not in the slightest.
I could feel myself relaxing as he spoke and Eris clearly didn´t care that I didn´t answer. He simply went on sharing his life with me. And I listened carefully to every word he said. Something about it felt quite intimate, as if he trusted me with his very soul. The man next to me, was the complete opposite of what others said about him. A ticklish feeling crept its way into my chest and somehow I knew he needed… this. Just two strangers standing on a balcony at the House of Wind. One talking, the other listening. He needed this as much as I did.
We remained like that for a while. Just the two of us, Velaris below and the stars falling upon us. Now surrounded by a comfortable silence. Eris decided to break it first.
„I´ve heard tales about you, you know? The cursed daughter.“ A pause. „Some say the Cauldron is to blame for your inability to speak.“ I stiffened at his unexpected honesty. „Why is it you can´t talk?“ A thousand questions sparkled in those beautiful eyes of his. It was nothing new for people to have questions about what was wrong with me. They made up all kinds of tales and theories. I was used to them talking behind my back, but I hadn´t expected him to bring it up. Always at ease with my condition, I was surprised, when something felt out of place. A sensation that had changed. But why? I didn´t even know him. Why would he elicit such a reaction in me?
Feeling his eyes burning into my skin, I looked up at him, longing to say: I wish I could answer you. I truly want to! But I can´t…
Another expression slipped into his honeydew eyes. Sympathy. As if to tell me: I understand.
My eyes watered, but I didn´t mind. I felt completely lost in those cascades of liquid sunlight. Framed by his long lashes and fine wrinkles. Some others wouldn't even have noticed them.
My star, where are you? Your mother is worried about you.
The voice of my father echoed in a corner of my mind, jolting me out of my trance. I blinked a few times, glanced at the door behind me and back at the man by my side with something, others might have called a pleading look. I have to go.
Eris understood and gave a deep bow. „It was a pleasure to meet you y/n. Princess of the Night.“ Something about the way he said it didn´t make me dislike that title.
I curtsied and spun around on my heel, sensing that this wasn´t the last time I would run into Eris Vanserra.
✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦
I spent the rest of the night with my family. Mor had a bit too much to drink, but so had her friend Viviane. They sat on the floor with Amren and Varian on velvet cushions, eagerly talking about some event, that happened recently. Cassian and Nesta were leaning on the great balcony, enveloped in each others arms, enjoying their togetherness. Uncle Az was watching the place, searching for any threats, as always. My father had told him, he had the night off, but why break with old habits. And then, there were my parents. High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court. Their crowns shone beneath the chandelier. Made of the most precious diamonds. Currently they were engaged in a lively conversation with Helion and some other Fae. Nyx, my older brother was next to them, holding a wine glass. His wings properly tucked behind his back.
I stood silently in a corner, observing the room. Every detail. The glittering embroidery on some of the ball gowns. The crystal glasses and the way the light was refracted in them. A scent from the pastries caught my attention and I took a deep breath. They smelled incredible. I was caught up in a maelstrom of iridescent colours as I watched the dancing guests. A whirlwind that carried me away and consumed me. A feeling crept over me as if something was watching me. Or rather, someone was. I scanned the hall, but found no one.
Then a deep, nocturnal laugh snapped me out of my thoughts. My father's laughter. Seeing him and my mother so happy, made me smile to myself. I loved them dearly. But every time I saw them like this, something stirred inside me. A familiar feeling tugging at my heart.
Silent as a shadow, I sneaked out of the hall and headed up to my chambers. It was another wonderful Starfall, no doubt, but right now I wanted nothing more than to sleep. To swallow those rising emotions and banish them for the rest of the night.
I quickly changed into something more comfortable and lay down on the large bed. Burying myself under the sheets, I soon drifted off into a deep sleep.
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Grey rain clouds darkened the sky and a sharp wind tore through the treetops. Loose, broken leaves were blown from the muddy ground. I felt a piercing cold creep up my bare ankles, like a dead hand reaching for me. My tangled hair fluttered around my face as the panic trapped within my chest threatened to burst. Breathe! Breathe! My heartbeat rose higher and higher. I was dressed in nothing but a white linen dress, which swirled around my hips. The first drops of rain trickled down my pale cheeks. The wind grew stronger by the second, howling like an ancient spirit.
Breathe and open your eyes! My body screamed at me, but I wasn´t listening. Everything felt too much, when suddenly something soft brushed my thigh and the world stopped spinning for a moment. The gentle thuds of paws and a faint squeak could be heard. Slowly, I opened my eyes, only to be met with a fox sitting a few steps away. His thick, orange fur swirled in the breeze and his big, smoky eyes glistened with curiosity. He certainly was adorable with his black socks and the fluffy fur, his ears twitching. Squeaking again, he started running away from me. My body began to wake up, my feet stepping forward on their own.
I followed the little creature through the forest, trying not to loose him. Water splashed onto my legs, as I ran through some puddles. Fern leaves got stuck on my dress. The world around me, began to blur into a stream of pastel colours. A chaos of moss and olive-green leaves. Of grey sky and dark raindrops. Mixed with the scent of petrichor. The fox then slowed down and hid in a dark, narrow tunnel, waiting for me to follow. I took a few steps and stood at the entrance. My hand darted towards the shadows, but before I could to step into them, they consumed me. Suffocated me. Stole my air. My vision. And then slowly sunk into my very being…
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Sunrays shone down on my face. They tickled a bit and I scrunched my nose. A fresh breeze blew through the open windows and filled the room. The fine silver curtains swayed. I pulled the covers over my head, not wanting to stay up. But the birds chirping outside had other plans, so I kicked off the covers and got up.
As I was getting into a pair of black trousers and a bell-sleeved top, the entire house trembled beneath my feet. The birds were startled and fluttered away. What was going on?
I quickly threw on some shoes and almost ran out of the room. Perhaps it was an earthquake? Hopefully nothing too serious.
Moments like this made me wish I had inherited my father's wings.
Hurrying down a long corridor, I made a sharp right turn and nearly stumbled down a flight of stairs. As I was about to pass another staircase, a certain darkness caught my eye. It spilled out from under a double door, which was decorated with intricate silver carvings.
The conference room.
Oh, yes. My mother had told me, that there would be a meeting with the other High Lords in the morning to discuss some new arrangements regarding the import of certain materials into the other courts and the continent. It didn't appear to be going well.
An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach. As I walked towards the door, a low growl reverberated through the walls. Father.
„Rhys, let us talk about..“ My mother was cut off. „No! I demand to hear it from him! Who is it?“ His sombre voice was full of wrath. What could´ve possibly made him so upset?
I stepped closer, not sure if I should knock and disturb them. You could literally feel the tension.
„Rhysand, this is a business council. We´re here to discuss other matters.“ I believed, that was Lord Thesan´s voice speaking. A pregnant pause followed. I could almost see my father glaring at him. „Y/n. It's Y/n.“ I couldn't identify the voice. Someone was gasping for air and mumbled something incomprehensible. After that, no one dared to say another word.
Why were they talking about me? What was going on in there?
„You are not worthy of her.“ He practically spat out the word. My father´s sudden change of demeanour sent a shiver down my spine. „That decision is not yours to make.“ Heavy footsteps echoed across the room. „Call off your dog, Rhysand.“, Cassian snarled as he was addressed like that. „No need for hostility.“, the voice sounded as nonchalant as it could be.
Eris.
The darkness around my feet grew thicker. With no clue what had gotten into me, I grabbed the door handle and entered the council room. Not a single person noticed me. Just as I was about to close the door and step into whatever situation awaited me, glass shattered on the wooden floor.
„She is my daughter. You are not entitled to her!“ I could do nothing but watch the scene unfold. „Rhys, you don´t understand. Y/n is my mate. You can´t keep her away from me.“ The air was practically charged with lightning. A tingling sensation, that…
Wait what?…What did he just say?… I´m his.. his mate?
The room seemed too small now. Time stood still. Even the dust in the air had stopped moving. I inhaled sharply. My thoughts were racing. Pieces of memories flashed my mind.
Last night on the balcony.
His cheeky grin.
Mor, a dancing flash of red.
Stars sparkling above our heads.
A full moon shining as bright as ever.
My parents holding each others hands.
The stories Eris had told me about his childhood.
I must´ve heard this incorrectly. We hadn't even met each other until yesterday. But now it made sense, why he acted so.. so vulnerable in my presence. I was his mate. He was my mate. I had a mate. This one sentence repeatedly ran through my mind.
Unconsciously, my foot took a step back at the realisation and one of the planks creaked awkwardly. As if slow motion, all faces turned to me.
„Darling, I´m so sorry. This wasn´t meant for your...“, my father stuttered, but I couldn´t hear him anymore. His Apology ended in a swirl of pure silence. All I could do was stare at him. Eris. And he looked at me. Straight into my eyes with a shocked expression on his face. „Y/n, I..“, he tried to step forward but Cass stopped him immediately. Someone then gently grabbed my arm and pulled me along. Away from this moment, that just put my entire life upside down. A familiar scent flooded my nose and golden brown hair waved in my vision. The last thing I remember, was the doors closing behind me, as my mother winnowed us to the living room.
✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦
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