#came up with this as i was walking back home from
Note
hiii I love ur fics <3 I am OBSESSED with the prompt “can you come get me?” bc h/c makes me 💥💥💥 so I was thinking:
reader has been kidnapped by the latest unsub and the team is trying their hardest to find her but all the leads keep coming up empty until one day Spencer gets a call from her and the first thing she says is “can you come get me?” she sounds extremely upset and afraid so Spencer and Hotch leave to go find her. when they get there, she looks like she’s been through hell so they rush her to the hospital to be checked out, all the while they can’t seem to get any info out of her about what happened.
Spencer & reader could be platonic or romantic, whichever you like. (also I was thinking maybe hotchner!reader ? if that wouldn’t be too many things to ask for lol)
I love how you do angst and h/c, so keep up the good work and have a wonderful day <3
can you come get me? | S.R.
who? spencer reid x fem!reader
category: angst
content warnings: kidnapping, hospitals, stitches, blood draws, catatonia, disassociation, brief mention of sa, ohio mentioned, general cm violence (let me know if i missed any)
word count: 4.56k
a/n: i have no idea how this got so long but i love the plot of it so much that i couldn't cut any of it! i'm such a slut for the "you came"/"you called" trope that i couldn't help myself! i wrote this with the idea that it would be in place of the m*eve storyline (which means our lord and savior blake is here)!! anyways anon i hope you enjoy this - i love you!
Any external sound was completely ignored as Spencer flipped through the same file for the eighteenth time that day. In his periphery, he saw JJ and Rossi nod at each other before Rossi split away, walking up the ramp to where Hotch’s office was.
It took him a moment to realize JJ had made herself comfortable by sitting on the edge of his desk. She had her jacket neatly folded in her arms as she eyed the file he had, grief filling her eyes as she registered what he was looking at. “What are you doing tonight?” She asked, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.
The question was entirely pointless, she knew exactly what he was doing tonight, but in an attempt to get her to leave him alone, Spencer humored her, “I’m working late tonight,” he answered simply.
JJ’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she shook her head, “You’ve been working late all week, what if you come over tonight? Will’s making dinner. Garcia’s coming after she finishes her system update,” the attempt to get him out of the office didn’t go over his head, but it wasn’t going to work. “Henry would love to see you – maybe you could teach him a new magic trick.”
Peeling his eyes off of the paperwork, he looked up at the blonde, “You know I can’t.” He felt so close to an answer, he couldn’t possibly leave.
“Look, Reid, I get it, but you’ve been working crazy hours for the past month. Maybe taking a night off would be good. You can start fresh in the morning,” she tried to coax him into leaving the case be.
It hadn’t been a full month; it had been twenty-seven days. Almost four full weeks since you were taken. It had been one week since Section Chief Cruz had told Hotch that the BAU needed to start taking new cases, as the trail to you had run cold.
Considering you were Hotch’s daughter, that discussion had gone rather poorly. Cruz had been able to give the team leeway. Both Spencer and Hotch had fully intended on taking advantage of that leeway, and the rest of the team helped when they had the capacity.
Turning back to your file, Spencer shook his head, “I’ll go if Hotch goes.” He knew there was no way Hotch would be leaving the office tonight, the only reason Hotch went home anymore was for Jack, and he was at a sleepover tonight.
JJ’s shoulders slumped in abject disappointment as her eyes followed Dave as he exited Hotch’s office, the slamming of the door enough to make the lingering BAU agents flinch. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, defeated.
Rossi wagged a finger at Spencer, “Go home at some point tonight, kid,” he instructed.
Waving a quick goodbye, Spencer resumed making notes in the margins of the papers that were making a permanent home on his desk. He looked up when Hotch exited his office, eyes following him as he brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchenette. The two of them acknowledged each other with a nod before continuing on with the hunt.
Both of them knew the odds, that you had been gone this long and there was a good chance that they’d never see you again. Despite that, Spencer would head up to Hotch’s office in about an hour, and the two of them would confer.
Eventually, the sun set, and a thunderstorm rolled in, the flashes of light coming in through the windows as he began to consider going for another cup of coffee.
Wiping a hand down his face, he inwardly groaned as his phone started to ring. Half expecting it to be JJ, he was surprised to find that it was an unknown caller. Clicking the answer button, he lifted the phone to his ear, “Hello, this is Dr. Reid.”
There was an eerie silence on the other end of the call, if he strained his ears, he could hear the pattering of rain. He tried to greet the other person again, but when there was no answer, he started to lower the phone to hang up.
“Can you come get me?” Your quiet voice came through the receiver, effectively knocking the wind out of Spencer’s lungs.
Fiddling with his belongings, Spencer gripped your file, “Where are you?” He asked urgently.
You sniffled, “I don’t know. A payphone off of twenty-eight.” If he strained his ears, he could listen to the rain. Spencer wondered if he could calculate how far away you were by the sound of the thunder where you were compared to where he was.
His chest ached at the exhaustion in your tone, imagining you had gotten approximately as much sleep as he had recently. That is to say, little to none. Pulling the phone slightly away from his face, he called out for Hotch, getting his attention and waving him over. “Y/N, can you see any mile markers or exit signs anywhere?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone back up to his ear.
“I can’t see much of anything,” you admitted. That made sense, your glasses had been recovered at your abduction scene. Spencer kept them in his bag with the rest of your belongings that had been released from evidence. “I feel lucky enough that I was able to find a pay phone,” you said, and for the first time, he noticed that you were whispering.
Glancing at the inside of his wrist, Spencer checked the time. JJ had mentioned something about Garcia staying in her office for a system update – what were the odds the tech analyst was still there? Stalking out of the bullpen, he made his way to her office, Hotch hot on his heels.
After knocking on the door, her voice rang out, “Enter, mere mortal.” Once she had recognized who it was, she greeted Spencer directly, “Ah, Dr. Reid, did you need a ride to JJ’s?”
“Can you locate a payphone based on the phone number?” He asked hurriedly, the longer you stood out there in the rain, the more danger you might be in.
A confused look was plastered on her face, but she turned back to her screens and started click-clacking away. “Most def, boy genius. Run me the digits,” she responded, pulling up some sort of database that Spencer didn’t recognize – probably for the best.
She typed the phone number just as quickly as he recited it, turning around and telling him that the pay phone in question was approximately thirty minutes away. You had only been thirty minutes away this entire time. “Send the coordinates to Hotch’s phone,” Spencer instructed, stepping toward the door. “Tell the rest of the team to come in,” he continued, “it’s Y/N.”
Each stage of grief flashed across Penelope’s face as she nodded assuredly, scrambling for her phone as she took care of notifications.
Impatiently, Hotch held the elevator door open as Spencer entered, keeping the phone up to his ear, “Stay on the phone,” he told you.
A desperate whimper came from your end of the call, “I don’t have any change. I found a few quarters on the ground, but I don’t have anything on me.”
“Stay on as long as you can, angel,” Spencer amended. “We’re on our way.”
The rain was worse than he had initially thought, but Mother Nature was no match for Aaron Hotchner. They were only about five minutes from the coordinates that Garcia had shared, and the phone call had dropped off before they were even on the main highway. The dropped call certainly didn’t help the rising tension in the SUV.
“Did she sound scared?” Hotch had asked for the nth time.
Not taking his eyes off of the map, Spencer nodded, “She sounded like she was stranded in the middle of the woods in Virginia, in a thunderstorm, and was using a pay phone as a lifeline.” His entire body was thrumming with nervous energy as they sped down the road, “but she’s alive.”
He didn’t miss the way Hotch’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. You being alive would have to be enough of a comfort to the both of them for now, but Spencer knew what your life meant to your father.
“There it is,” Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts with the recognition of a phone booth on the side of the road, in front of a seemingly abandoned gas station. In a moment of uncharacteristic recklessness, Spencer clambered out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, an umbrella and jacket in tow.
Hesitantly, he approached the crumpled heap of limbs underneath the pay phone. It wasn’t a full booth, it had just enough coverage to prevent the payphone from short-circuiting. You had jammed yourself underneath it, trying to keep yourself as dry as possible.
Kneeling in front of you, he swept his sopping-wet hair from his face, “Y/N.” His voice was no more than a breath, he didn’t dare reach out to touch you — lest you not want to be touched. A strike of lightning lit your surroundings enough for him to note the bruise that had bloomed on your cheek.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched as your lips parted in recognition, “You came,” you whispered.
He nodded, “You called.” His heart soared as you shuffled yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap the FBI-issued jacket around your rain-soaked frame. “Let’s get you out of this rain, alright?”
Standing up on shaky legs, Spencer helped you walk to the SUV where your dad was waiting, shining a flashlight to help guide you to the vehicle. Based on how heavily you were leaning on him, he could tell that your left leg was injured. Despite your injury, you stepped away from Spencer to hug your father.
For a moment, Spencer felt like he was intruding on a family moment, but he recalled all of the times he had been invited to join in Hotchner festivities these last few years and allowed his eyes to meet Hotch’s.
The two of them shared an understanding look as Hotch pulled away, “We should get you to a hospital,” he said, cupping your face with parental gentleness.
Spencer helped you into the SUV, unable to put any pressure on your leg, you depended on the handles to pull yourself up. As you maneuvered yourself, he tried to determine what your injuries were. His eyes scanned your body until he made his way back to your face, “Angel, keep your eyes open.” He felt as if he was asking a lot of you, but he didn’t know if you had taken a hit to the head. Falling asleep could do more damage. “Hey, Y/N?” He said, watching as your eyes fell shut and your head slumped forward. “Hotch,” Reid said urgently from the backseat.
Understanding perfectly, Hotch hit the lights on the SUV and turned on the siren. Flashes of red and blue signaled to other drivers that there was an emergency.
You were silent.
As soon as they had gotten you to the emergency room, your entire demeanor had changed. Spencer guessed that you had been in fight or flight when they had picked you up from the phone booth, and now that you were getting the help that you needed, all of the fight had vacated your being.
In the white fluorescence of the hospital, he could see how drained you looked. Once the doctors got their hands on you, you refused to let him or your dad near you.
Hotch was in the hallway, talking on the phone with your Aunt Jessica while he tried to arrange childcare for Jack so he could stay with you - the leader of your care team estimated you’d be in the hospital for at least a few days.
While you had been mobile when they came to get you, your energy had left along with your adrenaline, and eventually, the best course of action was to just let you sleep. That was how Spencer ended up sitting cross-legged in a stiff hospital chair, watching over you as you slept.
Respectful of your wishes, he kept a fair distance from you, but you’d be hard-pressed to convince him to let you out of his sight. There were tubes and wires going every which way from your body, oxygen, an IV, and electrodes monitored your life. Boiling you down to a collection of numbers that showed Spencer just how alive you were.
The doctors suspected you had bacterial pneumonia, but they were still waiting on the results of your chest X-ray to make a formal diagnosis. Your presumed leg injury had turned out to be a bruised hip bone – part of a sickening pattern that reflected that of someone who had been thrown down a flight of stairs.
A knock on the window to your hospital room caught his attention, causing him to turn his head and come face to face with Rossi and Blake. Opening the blinds so that he’d be able to keep an eye on you from the hallway, Spencer stood up and joined his colleagues in the corridor.
“What’s the report?” Rossi asked, nodding in the direction of your room, and placing his hands on his hips.
Spencer rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “The doctor said that all things considered, she’s in good shape, but…” Shaking his head to wake himself up, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “She’s sick and was beaten. Right now, she’s sleeping. We have no idea she was running in the woods, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted.”
He continued on to list other maladies that the doctors had provided, dehydration, malnutrition, one cut on your arm that needed to be stitched, and that was just scratching the surface. Dave nodded understandingly, “but the sooner we get to ask her questions, the better.”
Shrugging, Spencer looked over at your father, and then back to you, “When she wakes up on her own,” he murmured, watching as a nurse checked on your IV. He didn’t want to risk waking you up or asking too much too soon of you. “Can I ask you a quick question?” He lifted a finger inquisitively to the nurse who was walking out of your room, scribbling something on your chart.
The nurse hummed in response, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to ask.
“Do you think the infection has anything to do with her silence? She might be hurting so she isn’t talking?” He asked, it wasn’t unheard of, when people were in a lot of pain, sometimes they coped with silence.
While the nurse might have an excellent bedside manner, the three profilers took note of the concern in her eyes. “The silence might have more to do with her psychological well-being than her physical well-being,” she responded, it was a healthcare way of trying to appease them. Really, they didn’t know much better than the members of the BAU did.
Blake’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity, “Could it be catatonia?”
“In order to diagnose catatonia, she’d need to display three of twelve symptoms. Those are stupor, catalepsy, waxy flexibility, mutism, negativism, posturing, mannerism, stereotypy, agitation, grimacing, echolalia, and echopraxia. So far, she really only meets one of twelve,” Spencer answered.
Shrugging, the nurse pointed at Spencer with her pen, “What he said.” She looked down at the chart before continuing, “Her care team leader called for a psych consult, but we won’t really know one way or the other until she wakes up.”
Nodding, Rossi nodded in acknowledgment, “What else could it be?”
Pursing her lips, the nurse tilted her head to the side, “Peritraumatic disassociation is another possibility, but again, we won’t know until she wakes up.”
The waiting game began. As luck would have it, an FBI agent being abducted created a lot of paperwork, so Hotch was holed up in a conference room while Rossi and Blake worked on the profile. JJ and Morgan stayed back at Quantico with Garcia to look back at what information Hotch and Spencer had been gathering over the past twenty-seven – now twenty-eight – days.
Spencer stayed with you, tucking your blanket around you when he watched goosebumps sprout along your arms. He paid close attention to everything that the doctors and nurses said about your condition, relaying everything to Hotch via text message. They ran a kit on you, and the only solace was that there was a chance that they could DNA match whoever did this to you.
He left that last part out of his message to your father.
As soon as you started waking up, Spencer had to leave the room, watching from the hallway as medical personnel flurried around your bed. At first, he had assumed your aversion to himself and your dad was an overall aversion to men, but you didn’t flinch when it came to the male doctor who was checking your vitals manually.
A nurse peeked out from the door, “Are you Dave?”
Furrowing his eyebrows, Spencer cocked his head back in confusion, “No? I’m not – why?” He asked, gaze flickering back into your room as you scrawled something on the piece of paper that a nurse had handed you.
“She said she’d talk to Dave,” the inquiring nurse shrugged, turning back into your room, and adjusting your pillow beneath your head.
Still confused, Spencer slipped his phone out of his pocket, nimbly typing a message to Rossi before returning the phone to its home in his slacks. Trying to respect your peace, Spencer remained in the hallway, leaning back against the wall as he heard the familiar sound of Italian leather boots turning the corner. “Are you sure she didn’t mean Aaron?”
Spencer shook his head, mirroring the older man’s confusion, “She physically wrote your name out. She’ll only speak to you,” he answered, trying to hide his own pain for the sake of ridding you of yours. If you wouldn’t talk to your father or himself, it made the most sense that you’d talk to Rossi. You’ve known him the entire time your father worked in the BAU.
Shrugging, Rossi walked into your room and approached you with the care of a man approaching a deer. He remained this way until he made it to your bed, and Spencer watched as he smoothed your hair away from your face affectionately.
You leaned into his touch, and Spencer didn’t miss the cue. When was the last time anyone had touched you with love in their heart?
He had kissed you goodbye before you went on your run, just thirty minutes before your location turned off and your usual Thursday route turned into a hunting ground. With what you did for work, you switched paths frequently, but someone had been watching you, or at least, that was the conclusion the team had drawn.
Watching as Rossi spoke with you, Spencer noticed one anomaly – you weren’t speaking to him. Instead, all of his questions were answered with blinks or scribbling on paper.
The two of you went until a nurse came in, telling the both of you that they needed to run a few more tests. Taking his leave, Rossi told you something that Reid couldn’t quite make out and rejoined him in the hallway.
“What did you say to her? Just now?” Spencer asked, his need for any sort of contact with you becoming so desperate that he’d now accept it secondhand.
Frowning, Rossi placed both of his hands on his hips, “I called her piccolina, I used to call her that all the time when she was just a little thing running around the old BAU bunker.” Taking a moment, Rossi pulled out his little notebook and read through it. “White male, late twenties to early thirties, sometimes gone for days on end citing ‘work,’ but she never figured out what he did for work.”
Spencer’s eyes burned at the realization that you had been working your own case while being victimized, he peered in through the window as a nurse drew your blood.
“She said he drove a dark American sedan, making it either blue or black,” Rossi continued to list off, eyes following Blake as she approached the two of you. “Y/N said the car was filthy like he had been living out of it when he couldn’t get to her in the woods. The car had an Ohio party plate on it with expired tags.”
Blake arched a brow at the new information, “Party plate?” She said quizzically, looking at Spencer for clarification.
Nodding, Spencer looked over at his friend, “That’s the colloquial name for restricted license places. They’re given to people who are convicted of DUIs, which is actually called an OVI in Ohio. In Ohio, they’re yellow with red print, and the only state to have something similar is Minnesota where they call them whiskey plates because they all start with the letter W.”
“Well, he’s confident. Maybe too confident, driving around with expired tags and a license plate that already puts a spotlight on him,” Blake said thoughtfully, adding to the profile in her mind. “We should get this information to Garcia, maybe look for people who recently relocated from Ohio with those plates,” she suggested to Rossi.
Rossi nodded, skillfully flipping the cover back over his notepad and gesturing for Blake to follow him to the conference room, effectively leading Spencer to his own devices. When the nurse left to bring the vials of blood to the lab, he returned to your room, taking his seat on the edge of the room – as far away as he could get while keeping his eyes on you.
He looked up to your bed, catching you staring at him. As soon as you knew you had been caught, you turned your head to the other side, averting your gaze toward the window.
Every thirty minutes or so, Spencer moved the chair approximately five inches closer to you, by four in the morning, he had closed half of the space between you. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had that crease between your eyebrows that told him you were thinking too hard, and he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and touching it as if he could soothe all of your bad thoughts.
In the doorway, Rossi had appeared, garnering your attention as you propped yourself up on the flat hospital pillows. “We got him,” Rossi announced to the room, a reserved smile on his face.
Spencer watched as you visibly relaxed on the bed, your face softened as your eyebrows relaxed. Rossi explained some next steps, but he was only half listening, he could only focus on you.
Once Dave was gone, Spencer took a leap of faith and shuffled the chair to your bedside, “How are you feeling, angel?” He asked, taking up a muted tone.
You stared at him, blinking at him until, eventually, your face crumpled, and you leaned toward him.
Not missing a beat, Spencer stood up from his chair so that he could sit on the edge of your bed, meeting you in the middle, he gently wrapped his arms around you, rubbing small, soothing circles along your back with the flat of his hand.
In the past twenty-eight days, Spencer thought that being reunited with you could fix all of the hurt in his chest, but this, right here, was a different kind of pain. Tears sept through the fabric of his shirt just as soon as they fell from your eyes, and all of the hurt that he had felt before just morphed into a different kind of suffering.
His heart ached at the sight of you in this much pain, so much emotional turmoil that you had silenced yourself. What was he supposed to say in order to comfort you? ‘You’re okay,’ was wholly false, and ‘it’s alright’ felt like a cruel joke. You very clearly weren’t okay, and none of this was alright.
“I’m here,” he reassured you, his voice no more than a croak as he tried to swallow his own emotions. “I’m right here,” he repeated, continuing his ministrations on your back until you had cried yourself to sleep.
With your body in its weakened state, Spencer carefully adjusted you onto the bed, making sure none of your tubes or wires were kinked before settling back down in his chair and taking your hand in his.
Around the time the sun came up, your care team came through for morning rounds and woke you up to thoroughly inspect your status. Once they left you to your own devices – with the promise of food in half an hour – Spencer focused all of his attention on trying to coax you into speaking to him.
Tenderly, he dragged a finger across your forehead before continuing down the bridge of your nose, “I’d really like to hear your voice, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, maintaining a subdued tone in the early hours of the morning.
He watched as you sighed, deflating all of the air in your lungs as you tipped your head to the side, interrupting his movements. “I asked him to do it,” you murmured, voice raspy from lack of use.
“To do what?” Spencer asked, heart beating a little faster at the sound of your voice. He watched how you nervously gripped a fistful of sheets and looked at him. Only you weren’t looking at him, it was more like you were looking through him.
You took a deep, shuddering breath before you answered, “To kill me.”
The confession weighed heavy on his shoulders, but it wasn’t regarding anything against you. It was in the realization that you had been in so much physical and emotional turmoil while in captivity that you had asked for your own death. That even for a moment, you sat in front of a killer and asked for him to end your life as an act of mercy.
Noting Spencer’s lack of response, you continued speaking, “That’s why he let me go. I begged him to just end it and that took away any appeal for him.”
Last night. You had pleaded on behalf of your own demise last night. Carefully considering his next words, Spencer met your eyes and replied, “That must’ve taken a lot of courage.”
You faltered for a moment, evidently not having expected those words from him, “What are you talking about?”
It made sense to him now, why you wouldn’t talk to him or your dad. He felt like such a fool. You had been ashamed because you felt like your abductor had diminished your worth by breaking you down. Spencer knew better, “You stood your ground. You faced your own death, and you chose that over further suffering. Dying isn’t an undignified act, no matter how it comes upon you,” he reminded you, smoothing your hair away from your face as he watched your lip quiver.
“Thank you for staying,” you croaked as emotion closed your throat.
Spencer hummed thoughtfully, swiping a rogue tear from your cheek, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
#criminal minds#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid angst#criminal minds angst#margot's requests#spencer reid hurt/comfort#criminal minds hurt/comfort
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I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 3)
Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?
Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.
Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!
(Prologue and Ch. 1) // (Ch. 2)
“I like the lilac, but I just wonder if the lavender would’ve gone better with your complexion,” your mom said as she eyed you critically. You were standing on a pedestal in the middle of Sally’s Dress Shop, trying on the bridesmaids dress your mom had picked out for you to wear to her wedding. The dress was far too frilly and pastel for your taste, but if wearing it would please your mom and make this week move faster, it was worth it.
“I think this is fine, mom,” you were trying your hardest to keep your tone polite, determined to keep this outing from turning into a fight. After all, it was your mom’s wedding week, and despite all of the history between you, you really did want her to be happy.
By the time you had returned to the table last night, your mom had already paid the bill. The three of you drove home in silence, your mom giving you her patented silent treatment. This morning when you came downstairs dressed and ready for your fitting, she simply started talking about the flower arrangements for the reception, like the night before had never happened.
“I think you chose well,” you said before your mom could change her mind on the dress again. You’re lying through your teeth, you think this dress might be one of the worst choices she's ever made, but the satisfied smile on her face makes your discomfort worth it.
“Do a spin for me,” she asks for the tenth time today. When you roll your eyes she pouts and says, “please?”
You smile and twirl for her again, giggling when you nearly lose your footing and fall off the pedestal, grabbing your mom’s shoulder for support. Your mom laughed too, and you realized you couldn’t remember the last time the two of you laughed together. It was nice.
Rafe has been avoiding going downtown as much as possible these days, keeping his outings to the Island Club and having his friends come to him if they want to party. Even though his dad had officially taken the fall for everything, he knew people still whispered about him as he walked by. I heard he was there. I heard he did it. They say his fingerprints were on the bullets.
Today, however, he had a meeting with a potential buyer of some of the melted gold, a jeweler on main street. He slid on his sunglasses and locked his car, trying desperately to act like today was just business as usual, like he hadn’t just put a hit on his own father.
He walked quickly from his truck toward the jeweler’s store front, but stopped in his tracks as he passed Sally’s. There you were, behind the glass, spinning in a puffy purple dress, before nearly falling on your ass. He cursed himself for the way he flinched, as if he could reach out and catch you through the window. Why was it still his instinct to catch you?
Two Years Earlier…
“Rafe!” You squealed as he pulled you through the side door of the ballroom into the dimly lit alley. “They were playing my song!”
“That’s why I had to get you outta there,” he leans over you, backing you slowly up against the wall. “You looked way too fucking good dancing to that song.”
Rafe started rifling through the layers of your prom dress impatiently, trying to get his hands on you.
“What are you doing?” You playfully swatted his arm, thinking he must be teasing you.
“I need you,” he growled.
“Right here? In the middle of this gross alley?” You started to think he might not be kidding.
He finally gets his hands under the heavy fabric of your gown and begins kneading the flesh of your ass, making you gasp. His open mouth found yours, and you can immediately taste the alcohol on his tongue. You pull back from him and reach up to grab both sides of his face, hoping your touch would ground him a bit. He looked at you frenzied, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints.
“Baby, are you drunk already?” You said as gently as possible.
“Just on you, baby,” he slurred, attempting to dive back in for a kiss.
“Wait,” you turned your head, causing his mouth to miss yours and land sloppily on your ear.
“What the hell?” He backed away from you in frustration. His chest was rising and falling quickly, nostrils flaring, and you wondered if he was also high. He’d only done coke once before, as far as you knew, but you remembered how panicked he was after, his heart pounding violently as you tried to calm him down.
“It’s okay,” you assured him. “We just need to slow down a bit.”
You approached him with your hand outstretched, like he was a stray dog you were trying not to scare off. He didn’t look at you, but allowed you to slip your fingers into his, squeezing gently.
“I just wanna dance with you,” you whispered softly. Je just glared back at you, so you pouted your lips, knowing he found it irresistibly cute when you did that. He couldn’t hide the crooked smirk growing on his lips, and his breath steadied.
“We can party hard later,” you promised. “But I wanna remember this part, with you.”
He looked down at your hand in his and ran his thumb over the promise ring he had given you just a few weeks ago. You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed it softly.
As you swayed softly to the next slow song, he bent down and laid a kiss on your bare shoulder. For a moment, you thought you were successful in bringing him back down to Earth. You were full of pride, truly believing that you, and only you, would always be able to fix him when he was broken.
Now…
Rafe stood frozen at the dress shop window, just watching you. When you tucked your hair behind your ears, it was like he could still smell your pretty coconut shampoo. When you smoothed down your dress, it was like he could still feel your soft hands on his bare skin. When you said something to your mom, it was like he could still hear your voice whispering in his ear I will love you forever, Rafe Cameron.
But you hadn’t meant it, had you? You couldn’t have, or you would’ve stayed. And if you had stayed, maybe he wouldn’t be where he was now. Maybe he would’ve married you, taken you away from this island like the two of you used to dream about. Maybe he wouldn’t be a thief, a liar, a killer.
It was too late now, too late to undo it. Too late to get back to who he was before you left. But there was something about the sight of you, the presence of you, even through the tinted window glass, that made him want to try.
Decisively, he turned back toward his car, feverishly dialing Barry’s number. Praying to whatever God was good enough to create the girl in the window that it wasn’t too late.
Looking back at yourself in the mirror, you stopped short when you saw the reflection of a figure in the window. By the time you turned around, it was gone, and you were the one left wondering if you were imagining things.
Two Years Ago…
“Ma’am can you tell us what happened here tonight?” The cop questioned you.
Rafe looked up at you with pleading eyes. White button up stained with blood, eyes glassy and red. His suit jacket, the one you had picked out together to match your dress, had been ripped to shreds.
“I don’t know,” you said to the cop, not removing your disappointed eyes from Rafe, his bloodied face illuminated in the blue-red light of the sirens.
“We’re going to need you to give a statement, ma’am,” the officer clarified, “for the record.”
“For the record…” you shook your head at the boy on the curb, arms held behind him in handcuffs. Arms that used to hold you every night, arms you didn’t know if you could trust anymore, “...I don’t know him.”
With that, you walked away, the shattered glass from your car window crunching under your heels with each step. Rafe had no choice but to sit there and watch you go, aching with something completely unrelated to the accident.
“Y/N!” He yelled after you, unable to suppress the pain in his voice.
You just kept walking.
Now…
You woke up with a start, clutching your bedsheets. Sighing, you tapped your phone screen and it lit up in the darkness. 5:53am.
You weren’t surprised, you hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in two years. You knew how this would go, once your brain was awake there would be no turning it back off. You sighed and threw the covers off, your old childhood bed creaking loudly as you stood up. You winced at the noise, your mother was a light sleeper, a lesson you’d learned the hard way too many times.
You pulled on an old pair of leggings and a hoodie, and slowly crept down the stairs. Once out the door, you found your old bike in the shed in the backyard and rode off into the soft morning light. No clear destination in mind, you rode around the neighborhood, down to the beach. You watched the waves crash as you passed them. It had been two years since you’d seen the ocean, and you had nearly succeeded in convincing yourself you were okay with that. But now, the sun rising over the sea, salty air consuming your senses, all the hard work you did to delude yourself unraveled.
Without really meaning to, you ended up at the cemetery. You parked your bike and let your memory lead you right to your dad’s plot.
His grave clearly hadn’t seen visitors in a while. You made a weak effort to brush the dirt off of his headstone, before smiling and choosing to leave it as is. “God made dirt, dirt don’t hurt” your dad would’ve said.
For a while you just sat there, fingers combing through the grass as you listened to the birds chirp loudly in the trees above.
“That ever get annoying?” You asked your dad in jest. You smile to yourself, knowing your dad wouldn’t have minded. He was too easy going, the calm current that kept you and your mom afloat. Suddenly hit with a pang of longing to see your father again, you wished that you had something to leave here for him. You noticed a grave a few plots over, completely covered in fresh blooming flowers.
“Somebody was popular,” you say to your dad’s headstone. “I’m sure they won’t miss one flower right?”
You stand and approach the grave, wondering who it was that inspired such an outpouring of love.
“Sheriff Susan Peterkin” 1977-2020
You frowned. She must’ve died recently, then. Strange that your mom hadn’t said anything, surely Chip had known her, being on the force. You remembered Peterkin, she came to your school every year when you were growing up. Back then, she was just a beat cop who pulled the short straw and had to give the anti-bullying presentation, but you remember her being very nice.
You plucked a tulip from one of her many bouquets and felt like you should say something.
“Um, hi. I don’t know if you knew my dad, but I think you would’ve liked him. I’m sorry for whatever happened, but thanks for always being so cool.”
As you walked away from her grave, you noticed another newly dug plot a few yards away. The plot was small, if something was buried here, it wasn’t a body. Still, there was a small plaque over the fresh dirt. You approached, having to get pretty close before you could make out the name…
“Ward Cameron.”
Your knees buckled beneath you, the tulip you were holding slipping from your grasp. This grave couldn’t have been here for more than what, a few weeks? The grass had barely begun to grow. Maybe your mom could have just forgotten to tell you about Sheriff Peterkin, but surely the very recent death of Ward Cameron hadn’t just slipped her mind. Clearly, something bigger was going on.
And Rafe…Rafe.
You regained your footing and started running, past Sheriff Peterkin’s grave, past your father’s, blowing him a quick kiss.
You found your bike and started pedaling as fast as you could. Not even pausing to think through what you’d say when you got there, just knowing you needed to see him, to be with him. Suddenly, it made more sense. He was grieving. Their relationship was complicated, but even when he was pissed at him, Rafe still worshiped his father.
You pulled up to Tannyhill, but the gate was closed. You tried some of the gate codes you remembered the Camerons used to rotate through, but none of them worked. After your fifth attempt, the system locked you out. You rang the bell, not sure if he would even let you in when he realized it was you, but you had to try. No answer, he must not have been home.
You sat by the wall for a few hours, waiting for him to get home. Eventually, your stomach ached with hunger, and you really had to pee. You decided to go home, collect yourself, and come back later.
By the time you arrived home on your bike, it was almost noon. Chip was just walking in the front door, home from work. He had been pulling double overnight shifts to pay for the wedding and he looked exhausted. Luckily for both of you, the wedding was just a few days away now, and all of this would be behind you soon.
When you walked in the living room, he was mid-conversation with your mother, who quickly shushed him at the sight of you. He looked at her in confusion, clearly not reading the silent message she was trying to send with her eyes.
“What’s going on?” You asked, feeling just as lost as Chip.
“Just telling your mom how we brought in that Cameron boy again last night-” your mother cut him off with a harsh, “Chip!” and he threw his hands up in surrender.
You and your mother looked at each other for a long moment, saying nothing, and at the same time, everything.
“Don’t,” she pleaded quietly.
You turned fast and ran toward the door, grabbing her car keys and your purse off the dining room table as you passed.
“Y/N, do not do this,” your mom was up from the couch, running after you as you headed for the front door. “Tonight is my bachelorette party and tomorrow we have the rehearsal!”
“I’ll be back in time, I just have to-”
“No you don’t! You don’t have to!” She yelled, trying to grab the handle of the door before you could get to it, but you beat her to it and threw open the door.
“I’m sorry,” you called behind you as you ran to her car in the driveway. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t bother,” she yelled from the front steps.
You stopped in your tracks, hands pausing on the handle of her car door as you whipped your head towards her in surprise.
“If you leave right now,” she said, eerily composed, “If you go to him, I don’t want you at my wedding. If you do this, y/n…I don’t ever want to see you again”
Your mother had said many harsh words to you in moments of frustration that she tried to take back later, but the way she was talking to you now, her tone so even and her words so carefully selected, you wondered if she’d practiced this speech. Then it dawned on you, she knew you would do this. She knew if you found out about Ward, that you’d run to Rafe’s side. And she was fully prepared to cut you out.
You opened the car door and got in, not looking back at your mom as you peeled out of the driveway.
Twelve Years Earlier…
“No, Rafe,” you scolded, hands on your hips. “You’re the cop, and I’m the robber!”
“Well too bad. I wanna be a robber, too,” he said, taking off the plastic sherriff's badge you had given him and throwing it in the playground dirt.
“We can’t both be robbers, that doesn’t make any sense,” you told him.
The rules of make-believe were very clear, and you’d always been a rule follower. That is, until you started spending your recesses playing with Rafe Cameron. He was always in trouble.
“Sure we can, we’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde!” He encouraged, handing you his plastic toy gun.
“Bonnie and Clyde,” you agreed with a smile, taking the gun.
Suddenly, you didn’t care so much about breaking the rules. Not if it meant you got to keep playing with him.
to be continued
a/n: y'all are blowing me away with all your kindness about this story!! I hope you keep loving it!!! Lots more to come (including some smut if you're patient🤫) 🫶
If you asked to be on the taglist and I forgot you, I'm sorry and please let me know!!
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My Poor Shadowsinger
Azriel x reader
A/n: I saw this post on twitter of Rogue carrying Gambit and it said ‘can’t let the bros know I’m cool with this’ or something like that. Anyway it immediately made me think of the babying Az hc I wrote and I couldn’t focus on anything else until I wrote this.
Warnings: mentions of injuries
Now that Madja was gone and his brother’s fussing was over Azriel could finally relax. His latest mission was fairly easy, that was until the last day. It’s always the last day. Azriel had won the fight easily, the male who attacked him clearly didn’t know how to fight, just throwing his muscular body around and hoping to land a blow.
Not that Az would admit this but he got cocky, too cocky and the bastard got him with his knife leaving a wide gash across his chest.
As Azriel relaxed into his pillows, letting his eyes finally rest. Of course right at that moment the front door slammed against the wall, followed by your worried voice. Azriel sat up in anticipation of you entering his room. Bursting through the room with Cass and Rhys on your heels you stop on the threshold.
Dropping your bag you rest your hands above your heart, your face contorted in worry. Your eyes scanning the bandages wrapped around his strong chest. “Oh Azzy,” you say breathless. Rhys opens his mouth to tell you Azriel is fine but Cassian grasped his shoulder. The smirk on his face telling Rhys that he wanted to see how this went.
You rush over to his bed, curling up next to him and holding his head to your chest. Placing kisses all over his face and head you sway him gently. “Are you ok baby? I was so scared when Rhys told me you came home hurt.” leaning back you run your hands over his shoulders gently, making sure to not pull at the bandages.
To your surprise Az leaned into you accepting your loving attention. Not caring that his brothers were watching on. Resting his head against your chest again and wrapping his arms around your middle. “I’m ok, it just stings a lot.” You let out a sympathetic sound, running your hands through his dark hair.
“You poor thing. Rhys,” you turn to the High Lord with a slight scowl on your face, “why didn’t you tell me he was in pain?” Cassian and Rhys couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Their jaws open wide in shock. “I-he, are you kidding? He said he was fine! Az even kicked us out because he said ‘stop babying me, I’m a full grown male!’” Rhys complained.
Cassian was speechless. He couldn’t believe his brother was acting this way.
You let out a sound of disgust, untangling yourself from Azriel’s vice like hold. “Lay back Az,” you say in a soft tone, adjusting his pillows so he can be comfortable. “Are you hungry? What can I get you baby?” You coo at him while brushing his hair back from his slightly warm forehead. You click your tongue at the warmth. “Ugh and you’re warm, did Madja give you something to fight off a potential fever?”
Az nods against his pillows, “It’s downstairs will you get it for me? And can I have that sandwich that you always make, with the cold chicken and stuff?” His voice small and a slight pout on his plump lips. “Of course baby. I’ll be right back.” You kiss the pout from his lips and make your way downstairs with a disapproving look at Rhys.
They all watch you leave. Once you’re down the stairs Rhys and Cass walk over to the end of Azriel’s bed. The High Lord places his hands on his hips giving Azriel an exasperated look. “You are unbelievable.” All Azriel does is smirk at his brother, bringing his arms to rest behind his head. “Don’t lie, you let Feyre and Nesta baby you two.” His brothers scoff at the accusation.
“Nesta would never.” Cassian says dramatically. Rhys purses his lips and shakes his head. “Run along now,” Az says teasingly. “Let me enjoy my pampering in peace brothers.” Rhys shakes his head again as the pair laugh while leaving.
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar reader fic#acotar reader imagine#acotar imagine#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x you#azriel fluff#azriel fic#azriel imagine#azriel fanfic#acotar azriel#azriel#azriel blurb
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Pleaseee please could you do obsessive acotar boys who can’t get enough of reader please?
Obsessed
Clingy ACOTAR boys headcanons
Warnings- suggestive themes, mentions of abuse, possessive vibes, death, different ideas I either tossed out or was too insecure to post in short form (including an AU where Feyre doesn't destroy Spring and Tamlin isn't turned into what he's turned into), Beron, abuse, the Weaver, Ianthe, pregnancy
Rhysand
The bond snapped after Feyre freed them from the mountain. You were walking with her, giggling about heading home to Spring.
Of course, his mate was his enemy's little sister, and of course that only further the obsession.
Rhys wanted to free you from under Tamlin's grasp, and it became his mission.
It started with daily letters that you ignored.
Then gifts brought to you by shadows.
Then he'd show up in your room. Smiling as he leaned back against your headboard. "Hello y/n Darling."
You caved after 2 weeks of his nightly visits. Allowing him to plan your "kidnapping"
He rips you from Spring with Feyre. Having convinced Tamlin that if he was so worried about his bride to be, he should send his baby sister as a chaperone.
Once he has you in his home, in your home, those soft touches you two shared at night were no longer enough
His lips were on your body constantly. Your hands, your neck, your own soft lips.
Speaking of hands, I hope you like physical contact, because he has to constantly touch you.
In public, the placement is so respectful. Lower back to the lower side, resting just about your hips, guiding you as you shop and spend his money.
When you finally warm his bed, he cancels all plans the next day to ensure he has proper time to explore your body.
He memorized every freckle, every stretch mark, every scar. He doesn't stop until he knows every ticklish spot, every spot that makes your toes curl.
His love languages are gifts and physical touch, so once you opened that box, you opened a whole can of worms.
You are pulled into unused bedrooms, his office, Azriel and Cassian's offices when they're away, supply closets. He doesn't stop until he's tasted you on every surface and in every room.
I wish you luck during the frenzy. He won't stop until you are throughly spent and bred. How else will he ensure you never leave him?
Cassian
He had admired you while you two were growing up together in Windhaven.
He watched you do your chores and got his ass kicked for it more than he wants to admit.
Even at a young age, Cassian courted you. He didn't care that the flowers he was pulling were weeds. He still turned them into a bouquet or had Rhysand's mother weave them into your hair.
That didn't change as you two grew older together. By 18, it was known you were his, and by that point, everyone knew not to fuck with what's Cassian's.
He wouldn't touch you until your chores were done, wanting to spare you what little pain he could from your father's heavy hand.
Cassian wasn't respectful with his hand placement. The male has always had high sex drive, and he found his match in you.
You and Cassian shamelessly fucked in places that had your dear mother crying. The weapon storage shed. The forest. The mess hall once it was empty.
It was no shock to anyone, especially not you and Cassian, when the bond snapped right as he was leaving for the first war with Hybern.
When he came home to you and took you to Velaris, all bets were off. Rhys settled you two into the House of Wind, Azriel into the Riverhouse, and he took the townhouse.
The two of them never flew to the House of Wind without warning you or Cassian first. To do so had them risking walking in on you riding or Cassian with his head thrown back as you screamed for him.
Cassian can't stop touching you. He can't stop talking about you. He can't stop being in love with you. Even if the only way he knows how to show it is physically.
Not that you're complaining. You didn't need to walk anywhere today.
Azriel
Azriel worshipped you the second Rhysand's mother brought you back to the cabin.
Your voice became salvation, your scent became home, and your hands healed part of him he did not even know was broken.
The bond snapped young for you two. He had just turned 18, and you were still 16. He took his distance then, allowing you to explore the world much to your own protests. You understood why after two years.
It was the most selfless thing anyone had ever done for you. He allowed you to grow without his influence, despite how painful it had to have been watching you with other males.
Your father sees this whole relationship and mateship as a benefit to him alone. He takes you and Azriel to Velaris during the war.
He unknowingly allowed the relationship to go to heights he had already said were off limits to Azriel.
The number of times you had to mask your scent during dinner because a shadow was all too happily playing in your skirts was almost comical.
The relationship between you two is never able to go beyond heated kisses, stolen touches, and lingering glances.
Even in death, Azriel comes to you, speaking to you when he's lost and lonely.
He still obsessed over you, wishing he had more time, wishing he was with you. But the pain lessened.
Being ripped from the Cauldron by Amren was painful and terrifying.
You had a new body, modeled after your old one. You were slightly taller this time, and your face was still able to send males to war.
As much as it pained Azriel, he allowed Rhysand to be the first to you. He allowed your brother to be the one to hold you as you cried, confused and asking where you were. He let Mor go next, then Amren listening as the ancient being told you it was okay and that your purpose was not finished, so she was told to bring you back. Cassian dropped to his knees before you. Holding you as he apologized.
But Azriel waited. He walked beside you in silence as you were taken to the warcamp.
All bets were off once you were in his tent.
You don't know if you rushed to him first or if he came to you, but that reunion kiss was rough. Too much teeth and tongue. Tears falling down both of your faces.
He took things slowly with you. Your first life granted you powers like the world had never seen before, and this time was no different. You could move the stars at will, silence the connect other fae shared with their magic without even having to loosen a breath.
It was final confirmation of what many already knew. Rhysand was high lord due to his cock, not his power, and that sheer fact had Azriel on his knees for you once you were ready.
You are his living goddess, and Azriel is always ready to worship.
Lucien
Eris saved both of you. He had sent you to Spring long before you could be ripped from the market in autumn.
Lucien joined you soon after. Crying to the Mother in gratitude the second you came out from hiding behind Tamlin.
You were a rare breed of lesser fae. Your kind looked similar to the high fae by all means, but your kind had the ability to communicate with every living being.
You knew the names of each tree, of each flower, every critter. You could hear the winds whispers, see the colors he asked you to, and tell them all the meaning.
Your kind had been hunted for years, much like the shadowsingers.
It made Lucien almost unbearable when it came to his protective streak. But so did this new freedom.
Lucien is shamelessly in love with you. As an emissary, he gets to travel places you will never see. But he always brings you something back because you are always on his mind.
He brings you ornaments from Winter, jewelry from Day, sea shells from Summer, clothing from Dawn.
Lucien will speak about you for hours on end. It makes Tamlin crazy at times, but seeing how naturally you two fit together quickly makes the sting of jealousy fade.
Lucien purposes under a willow tree. Your absolute favorite one that you go to for guidance. Even if the bond does not snap, he wants you as his wife.
And boy does being his wife make things interesting.
He is suddenly growling at any male who studies your body for too long. Holding you from behind at all times. Showering you with even more things.
The bond snaps after Amarantha mutilated him. It snapped as you were nursing him back to health. Reminding him his beauty has nothing to do with why you love him, but instead it is his kindness and his soul.
You two become mutually obsessed from that point forward. More often than not, you will send a bird to shit on someone if they harm Lucien in any sense.
You both can not keep your hands to yourself anymore. It was as if that scar actually sealed his place as the most handsome male you had ever laid eyes on.
He sends you away to the forest when the 50 years is coming to a close. Not caring if he dies for it.
You would be his last thought if he did. And during that second trial, you were his only thought.
Everything he had done was for your safety, and if he ever saw you again, he would whisper those one thousand words he wanted to say as he laid between your legs, and he would never let go again.
Eris
Childhood best friends to lovers? Anyone? Anyone?
Well... kind of childhood best friends.
You met Eris when he was 6 and you were 5.
Your parents were one of two shadow hound breeders, and Beron was desperate to get his hands on one of your family's pups specifically.
You had this special talent that you could use from the moment you were able to. You seemed to know which hounds needed to be bred together to create the most powerful litters. And you did it all without inbreeding.
Your family quickly took hold of the other breeder's dogs, and you, your father's pride and joy, made their lives better.
Eris becomes obsessed with you from that day forward, and Beron knows it. Hence why you two are married at the young ages of 18 and 17.
Eris is madly in love and in private is very expressive of that.
He shows his love through praise.
"You look absolutely stunning today, little fox," is a common greeting as he brings you a tray of fresh fruits, eggs, breakfast meat of choice, and toast.
The sap cuts your toast into a heart.
He's a hopeless romantic, and it kills you that no one is able to see how he is with you outside of his mother amd your parents who are waiting for the day they get to go to war for him.
The second you end up pregnant, Eris's love turned into true obsession and not the healthy normal kind between partners.
He becomes possessive and overprotective. Your suddenly moved to one of his private hunting cabins with a guard detail and private healer assigned to you and you only.
He has to have his hands on you at all times. The only exception is when he is at the Forest House.
It is love. You know that deep down, but Gods, you are lonely.
You understand why this is happening, though, when he shows up beaten and bruised, limping into your arms for any sense of comfort.
His obsession is your safety. The safety of the lives you carry.
Once you birth his twins, the game changes. The obsession is now on him not being able to get enough of your new body.
Your mom body lives rent-free in Eris's mind. He's stroked himself in his office to the thought of your fuller breasts and supple hips more times than he'd like to admit.
He loves to squeeze your hips, loving the soft feel of them.
He would have gone to war for you beforehand. He does it now.
He wants to see a crown of leaves and berries on your head, sparkling but failing in comparison to the gem he has in his bed.
He crowns you high lady during his coronation.
You are his, and he is yours, regardless of that bond never snapping. You two do not need the Mother nor the Cauldron to decide you are each other's equal and other halves. You already know.
Tamlin
You knew you were Tamlin's mate long before Amarantha. You were a well kept secret, hidden out of fear of Rhysand coming to take you as well.
You made home in The Middle. Becoming friends with the Weaver was interesting, but you two forged a relationship. You bring her food, she offers protection, so yes. You kept her fed.
Tamlin comes back for the second he allows Rhysand to take Feyre.
You two spend the week she is there in bed, fucking like rabbits until he was content.
It's dead silence when Feyre comes back. He had expected Rhysand to keep her, not hold up his end of the bargain, and he also believed their relationship to be over.
Rhys was an idiot if he thought Tamlin couldn't scent the mating bond. He was willingly handing her over, and the High Lord had to aggressively whisper that to Rhys one night in his office to get it through the other male's thick skull.
It took Tamlin tugging the bond for you for Rhysand to understand.
The Lord of Night was almost disgusted by the love and mutual need you and Tamlin shared. He felt the two of you marked him in the scent of roses and petrichor.
The two of them sat Feyre down 3 days later, and she eagerly went to Night after Tamlin finally got her to understand that while he loves her, he cannot help her and love her the way Rhys will be able to.
That freed you two up, much to Ianthe's anger, to make up for lost time all over again.
He lives between your thighs. No one can change my mind, but Tamlin is a munch, and he cannot get enough of the taste of you.
When you find out Ianthe put her hands on him, on Rhysand, on Lucien you and Feyre become a force. Ianthe selling Feyre's sisters to Hybern had been enough for you and Tamlin to begin the process of banishing her. But much to Tamlin's delight, this made you feral.
Feyre crippled the priestess, and you dragged her by her bleach and tone blonde hair to the Weaver, smiling to Stryga.
"Feyre's apology present for stealing the ring, dear friend." Feyre held a breath, fingers squeezing your wrist as the Weaver moved, scenting Ianthe's fear, blood, and tears.
"And what is this?"
The two of you look at each other, mirrored cruel smiles before speaking in unison, "Dinner."
Tamlin, Lucien, and Rhysand watched from a distance as Feyre retreated to them, and you stayed to ensure the priestess did not somehow escape. "I can see why you love her," Rhysand started slowly. "She's-"
"Everything," Tamlin stated softly. "She is everything."
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Could I get a blurb or something from the AYW family when eddie and reader find out that she is infact pregnant and he's so happy and he can't wait to see her all pregnant with bigger breasts etc. And he loves to help her in anyway he can. And he's so excited about her belly when they do have sex. All the Fluffy stuff but a bit of smut to. Hehe. Thanks!
Eddie is a lovesick puppy all the time, but his pregnant wife? Oh boy. So thankful and happy to write this with my beloved @munson-blurbs 💚
Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap to up), pregnant!reader, breeding kink or does this move to pregnancy kink? We all know this Eddie has breeding kink BAD
Words: 2.5k
[As You Wish masterlist]
Eddie’s been on cloud nine from the moment you even suspected you might be pregnant. Now with it confirmed, everyone knowing, and steps rolling along to get things ready for the baby, you’re pretty sure your husband physically can’t get any happier. You’re proved wrong the moment he notices your breasts getting a little larger, though. Then the very beginnings of your baby bump appeared, and Eddie’s hand didn’t leave your stomach for what felt like a week.
Your husband has always been a gentleman, but he’s kicked it up a notch now that your second trimester has started. He’d always carry things for you, but now he makes the extra effort to go grocery shopping so you don’t have to reach for things on the high shelf or lift the full bags from the cart into the trunk of your car. And he isn’t the only one helping out.
The boys were, for the most part, good about doing their chores. Once in a while you’d have to get on one of them about picking their clothes up off the floor or cleaning up after themselves in the kitchen, but it was never anything major. But as twelve and nine-year-olds, they weren’t exactly known to go the extra mile, either. So, the day you first came home to them working as a team to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer, you almost thought you walked into the wrong house. You hadn’t intended to stand there and watch them as they did the task—they didn’t need a supervisor. But the pure shock kept you rooted in place as you watched Luke toss a dryer sheet in and Ryan reach up to press the correct buttons on the dryer’s control panel.
“Eddie, the boys did laundry,” you had told him when he came home from work, your wide eyes amusing to the man.
“I figured it was about time they learn,” he answered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Helps you out around the house, too.”
“That was your real motive,” you had said, narrowing your eyes at him.
“So, sue me.” Eddie shrugged and stepped around you to get a bottle of water.
The men of the house have been at this for a few weeks now and it’s honestly nice to have some of your usual duties lifted from your shoulders. Are things done perfectly? No. But they weren’t when you did them, either. At least when Luke got Ryan’s clothes and Ryan got Luke’s this time, they could blame themselves instead of you.
The boys have even been changing their own sheets and putting the clean ones on. Luke’s been so proud of himself that you don’t have the heart to tell him that he’s been putting the bottom sheet on inside out this entire time.
The domestic bliss of it all fills you with a soothing warmth, like you’re being wrapped in the softest downy blanket. Sometimes you’re afraid this is all a dream and you’re going to wake up in your apartment back in college, late for some class before you have to go pick up the boys from school so you can babysit them. When that happens, you usually walk over to the large fake crystal bowl on the counter where you keep your keys and pull out your set. On your keychain there’s a small, laminated Shrinky Dink that says “Luke” that was given to you the first Mother’s Day that you were with Eddie. The first year they saw you as a mother figure more than a babysitter.
You run the pad of your index finger along the rough plastic edge of the Shrinky Dink and the tiny little pricks of pain are another reminder that you’re not dreaming.
Getting ready for bed that night, you tighten the belt of your lavender bath robe before grabbing a cloth to wash your face. This bathroom never used to seem as cold as it has to you these past few months. Pregnancy does weird things to your body.
“Oh!” Eddie says as he steps into the bathroom. He snaps his fingers and spins around to head back into the bedroom. A moment later he comes back with a plastic drugstore bag in his hands. “I got this for you today. I know you said your gums are being more sensitive now, so I thought this might help.”
He offers you a plastic and cardboard package, a jade green toothbrush inside, and the words “Soft-Bristled Brush!” emphasized on the front. The hormones well up in you but you force them back down, refusing to cry over a toothbrush.
“Thank you, baby,” you say. “Now I can throw out that mean, old medium strength one.”
Eddie chuckles and presses a kiss to your head as he passes by to get to the shower.
As you scour your dresser drawers for pajamas, lacy material grazes your fingertips—maternity lingerie, courtesy of Jess, who swore Eddie would go absolutely feral over it.
Her exact words were actually “he’ll cream his jeans,” but that was neither here nor there.
Your eyes flit back to the bathroom where your husband is currently bathing. Your husband—the man you love and adore, who doted on you before you got pregnant and is the epitome of devotion now that you’re actually carrying his child. The alleviation of chores, the special toothbrush…maybe he deserves a little reward.
As quickly as you can—which isn’t all that fast, considering your new center of gravity, you put on the babydoll slip, adjusting it so the slit down the middle showcases your bump. The matching set of panties almost feels like a waste, considering how swiftly Eddie will tear them off, but you step into them anyway and complete the look.
There’s a clattering in the bathroom, jolting your already buzzing nerves. You know better than to ask what’s going on; over the years, you’ve found that many questions are best left unanswered.
“Babe, have you seen my—holy fuckin’ shit.” Eddie’s eyes widen when he takes in the sight of you. The towel wrapped around his waist tents where his erection begins to burgeon.
“Seen your what?” You bat your eyelashes, exaggerating your innocence, as you caress your bump.
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.” His hands are drawn to your sides, thumbs brushing over the swell of your stomach. “What’s all this for?”
“Just wanted to thank you for being such an amazing husband, even when I’m tired or moody or—”
“Baby,” Eddie cuts in, “all I’ve done is get you a new toothbrush and delegate chores to the boys. I should be thanking you for having my baby…and looking so damn good doing it.”
With that, he gets on his knees, grabs your thighs until his fingertips sink into your plush skin, and kisses the bump.
“You’re perfect.”
He moves forward on his knees, gently guiding you backwards until the back of your thighs hit the soft cotton sheets of your mattress. Large hands follow your hips onto the bed and quickly move down your legs to slip your panties off.
“Eds?”
“Hmm?”
“I, um,” you pause, feeling insecurity creep up in you despite your arousal, “haven’t been able to shave as well as I used to…”
Eddie pays your words no mind, instead just uses his pointer and middle fingers to part your lips and lick a stripe up your center.
“‘S not gonna stop me.” His voice is gravelly, deep, and it sends a pleasant shiver up your spine.
He takes your clit between his lips, tongue gently flicking over the bud. Giving it a little suck, he drops his unoccupied hand to your thigh and squeezes.
You can’t help the way your hips move, as though of their own accord, grinding your core against his face. Eddie notices it, too, pulling away briefly to tease you.
“Needy little thing tonight, hm?” His smirk glistens with your arousal.
You’re in no position to argue; you simply nod and thread your fingers through his curls in a silent plea for him to resume licking at you.
Eddie takes the hint, his tongue eagerly finding your hole and fucking it wildly.
“Eddie, shit, holy fucking shit!” You find your voice in time for your orgasm to crash over you, crying out your husband’s name as he brings you that beautiful release.
When he stands up, panting, you can see just how hard he is. The towel must have slipped off while his face was buried between your legs, and he’s now stark naked in front of you.
“Tried to look at you while I ate your pussy, but, uh…” his cheeks tinge red, “couldn’t quite see you over this.” He cradles your bump, pressing his erection into your thigh. The pre-cum that’s beaded at the tip sticks to your leg, a reminder of what you do to him.
You flop back on the mattress, breathing heavily with a lazy smile on your face.
Eddie crawls up over your body, chuckling when he catches your euphoric expression.
“Feel good, baby?” he asks.
“Mhmm,” you hum, eyes drifting shut.
Eddie parts the sheer panels of the baby doll top so your emerging bump is on full display, pressing kisses in the valley between your breasts and working downward.
He stops when he reaches your stomach. “Wish I could just keep you pregnant. Fuck, you look amazing like this.”
“So do it,” you mumble lazily.
“Don’t tempt me,” Eddie says, looking up at you with another smirk.
He pauses, delaying removing his hands from your belly but craving being inside you.
“Ride me, baby?”
You giggle. “Gonna need some help.”
Eddie nods, standing up and kissing you with his hands on your cheeks. “Anything. Anything for you. Christ, you’re a goddess.”
He helps you on top, his hands on your hips and holding your bump. Without further hesitation, he lines himself up and you sink onto his cock, letting yourself be filled entirely.
“F-Feels so good.”
Eddie grunts. “That’s because this pussy belongs to me. You belong to me.”
You just moan in response, so he grips your hips tighter and growls, “say it.”
“I belong to you,” you whimper, tightening around him as he thrusts up into you. “I’ll do anything for you, Eddie.”
After a few minutes, a newly-familiar ache creeps into your chest. Though you try to hide your wince, Eddie is all-too aware of your every move.
“What’s wrong?” He stops thrusting, grabbing your wrists and pulling your attention to him.
You gently maneuver out of his grasp and cup your breasts. “They’re just really sore from the, um, bouncing.” This never happened before pregnancy, but their extra sensitivity has you feeling every twinge of discomfort.
Eddie pouts, not from disappointment, but from the realization that you’re in some pain.
“C’mere, sweetheart.”
He withdraws, earning a whimper from you before he gently guides you onto your back and places a pillow beneath your lower back.
“I’ll take it a little slower, yeah?”
You nod, your warmth enveloping him once again. He thrusts languidly, holding back so he doesn’t hurt you, and his carefulness has you connecting your lips to his.
“I love you,” you mumble into his mouth. “I love you so much, Eddie.”
“I love you, too.”
His words, his movements, and your earlier orgasm are a perfect combination. You come undone, clenching around his cock and digging your nails into his back.
“There you go,” Eddie coos, kissing just below your ear. “Baby, can I go a little faster? Is that okay?”
He rarely begs you; normally, you’re the one pleading with him to let you come.
“S’okay, Eds.” You smile and he returns it, bracing his elbows on either side of your head.
He slams into you, burying himself to the hilt and tucking his head into the crook of your neck.
“Fuck—feels s’good—gonna come.” The words barely leave his mouth before he’s spilling into you, filling you with his seed. His body against yours and his release coating your walls has you falling into a foggy haze—the closeness, the intimacy, the safety you feel with Eddie is stronger than anything you’ve ever felt before. It’s only grown fiercer since carrying his baby.
The moment he pulls out of you and starts to move from hovering over your body, you tug him down next to you. Eddie laughs as you practically wrap him up in a death grip as he bounces against the pillows.
“Well, this is one way to cuddle,” he says.
“Got overexcited,” you say as you loosen your grip on him.
He doesn’t go too far though, immediately moving so that you can tuck into his side. As you move to slide closer, there’s a sharp intake of breath and your right hand instinctively goes to hold your bump.
“Baby?” Eddie asks, sitting up in concern, careful not to jostle your body. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
You shake your head as you scoot closer to him again. The sharp jab of pain vanished as quickly as it was sprung on you. A subtle aftershock rolls through you, but it’s barely even detectable.
“Just some mild contractions. Doctor said they can happen after sex sometimes. They’re not, like, baby contractions,” you explain.
Eddie visibly relaxes, shoulders dropping, and lays back against the pillows with you. “So, my excellent fucking skills didn’t send you into super early labor?”
A snort of laughter bursts out of you as you lay your head down on Eddie’s warm, solid chest.
“Sorry, Eds. Baby’s gotta stay put till she’s fully cooked.”
Your husband gives you a fake groan but smiles the whole time, kissing you tenderly.
“All right,” he says. “But I heard from someone who shall not be named—”
“Steve?”
“Who shall not be named, that sex can help induce labor. In case you need some assistance in a few months.”
You smirk. “Let me know if anyone’s offering. There’s that cute guy at the grocery store—”
Eddie tackles you, taking care not to hurt the bump, pressing sloppy, silly kisses to your cheek and neck. You squeal with laughter and try to push him off of you.
“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!”
Eddie pulls back and smiles down at you. “You better be. Because this,” he gestures to your lingerie-clad pregnant body, “is mine and only mine.”
“Well, this,” you say, gesturing to your own body, “has to pee.”
Eddie pouts as you slide off the bed, eyes not leaving your frame for a moment.
“But we were gonna cuddle,” he whines.
You walk into the bathroom as you shrug your shoulders.
“Take it up with your daughter,” you say before closing the door.
With a dramatic sigh, Eddie rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. His thoughts linger on your last sentence and the smile that was already on his face grows until it becomes a beaming grin.
“Holy shit,” he whispers to himself. “I’m going to have a daughter.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#older!eddie#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson fic#dad!eddie#AYW#AYWS#request
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Hi! Can I request Eddie x Dustin's cousin and miscommunication trope?
Eddie's seen her only a few times when gave Dustin ride (she'snew in town). And he's really enamored by her so he asks Dustin if he can investigate what's her type.
Dustin tells her that one of his friends thinks she's really cool and wants to ask her out. She asks if it's that cute guy with amazing hair and adorable smile who gives him a ride sometimes. He immediately thinks she means Steve, so he had bad news for Eddie.
He tells him about it and he replays "it's nothing I didn't expect. You should get to know them together. Steve's a good guy".
So one day Dusty bun and reader drives to Family Video and before they're get out of car he says something like "oh, look we're lucky. Steve has a shift today".
She replays "I don't see him, just this guy with big, funny hair"
"What? That's Steve"
"No, you said that this cute guy with pretty curly hair is Steve. You know, with a van"
And then Dustin understands his mistake... Do you think we can get happy end? 🙏🙏🙏
I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻
Wrong name
Eddie had his eyes set on Y/N the second she honked her horn and demanded Dustin move faster. She was blaring music with her windows down. She was gorgeous, naturally and simply. But Eddie was more shy than he liked to admit and was too scared to speak a word in her direction.
A few weeks passed and she continued to pick Dustin up from Hellfire. Eddie loved getting small glances at her but he wanted to know more about her. Scared of rejection, he asked Dustin to poke around and find out her type. Eddie didn't have too high of hopes but he figured he had nothing to lose.
Dustin said goodbye to the group as he got in Y/N's car, Eddie gave him a nod and Dustin smiled back with a wink. Eddie was a little nervous to leave the fate of his love life in Dustin's hands.
Driving home, Dustin tried to think of a sly way to bring Eddie up. But he came up empty and decided to be honest.
"So I have a friend that thinks you are pretty cool, and attractive. He wants to ask you out but is afraid he isn't your type. What would you say your type is?"
Y/N blushed at the idea of someone wanting to ask her out. She only had seen two of Dustin's friends that were age-appropriate, so it slimmed down her guesses.
"Is it that cute guy with gorgeous hair and that dazzling smile that sometimes brings you home from school?" Her voice sounded perky and Dustin could tell she was excited about the idea.
Dustin sighed sadly as she described Steve, he was a little scared to tell Eddie the bad news.
"Steve! You like Steve?"
~~~
"And then she described Steve, I'm sorry man," Dustin said, Eddie shrugged his shoulders and tried not to seem as upset as he was.
"Yeah, I figured she'd like someone like him. He's always complaining about being single so maybe you should set them up."
"Are you sure you are cool with that?" Dustin asked.
Truthfully, Eddie was not. He was more upset about it than he'd like to admit. He never had a conversation with the girl but felt torn apart that he didn't have a shot. He would probably want to poke his eyes out every time Steve made her laugh and kiss her.
"Totally."
~~~
"Your mom said it has to be PG so only look at PG" Y/N demanded as she parked the car. Dustin rolled his eyes as he got out. He looked inside the video store, and aside from the busy amount of customers he noticed Steve at the counter.
"Oh, it's your lucky day! Steve is working." Dustin teased, and Y/N was frantic upon hearing the name.
"You little shit, a little heads up that he works here would have been nice." Y/N groaned as she checked her appearance in her car mirror. She tossed around her hair and searched for lip balm in her purse. She coated her lips as Dustin waited impatiently.
Y/N accepted her appearance was the best she could do, and got out. She walked nervously behind Dustin as they headed into the store. But as she took in the large room, she didn't see Steve anywhere.
"Where is he? I don't see him." She said. Dustin told her he'd set them up since Steve liked her back. She hoped they'd get to talking and maybe he'd ask her out.
She wished she wasn't so nervous to talk to him and did it all the times she saw him while picking up Dustin. But she couldn't, her mouth went numb and all she could do was stare.
"Are you blind? He's right at the counter." Dustin expressed dramatically as he gestured towards the counter.
"I'm not blind. All I see is that tall kid with floppy hair." She crossed her arms as she glared down at the younger boy.
"What? That's Steve!" Dustin was confused and Y/N was too.
"No, you said Steve is that cute guy with gorgeous hair and that dazzling smile that sometimes brings you home from school! He drives the van, and is in your little club." Y/N explained.
Dustin looked between her and Steve a hundred times before his eyes shot open.
"YOU LIKE EDDIE!" Dustin screamed, Y/N covered Dustin's mouth as she blushed. Her eyes were wide in fear as she looked around the store. Dustin unfortunately caught the attention of some people nearby who looked at him displeased.
Y/N removed her hand and Dustin apologized to those nearby.
"I think I created a tiny little problem." Dustin nervously laughed, Y/N glared and his laughter stopped.
"Explain."
"Eddie asked about you and I thought you liked Steve! So I told Eddie you weren't interested and he told me to set you up with Steve. And well, I told Steve I had a cousin who was interested in him...." Dustin trailed off with a big smile.
"Wait so, I like the guy named Eddie, and Eddie wanted to ask me out but he thinks I'm into that kid over there?" Y/N asked, her finger pointing to Steve as he flirted with a customer, horribly.
"Uh yeah! But I can fix this!" Dustin rushed out. "I just need a phone!" He ran to the counter and asked Steve for the work phone. Dustin dialed Eddie's number and waited for him to pick up.
~
"He's on his way so just wait outside," Dustin said, pushing her out the door.
"I don't want to stand outside and look desperate!" Y/N argued.
"But then you have to meet in front of everyone here! That's worse." Dustin fought back. Y/N sighed and agreed.
She waited against her car as she watched every car drive by. She could hear his van before she saw it. Her palms began to sweat, she took a deep breath and pushed off her car as his van pulled next to her.
~
Eddie got more nervous once he saw her. He was thankful it was a misunderstanding and he had a shot. He turned off his van and slipped out. He took a few deep breaths and walked over.
"Eddie right?" Y/N asked, her hand covering her eyes from the bright sun as she looked him up and down. She loved everything she saw. He was in a simple T-shirt, his arm tattoos dark against his pale skin. His signature black jeans are dressed up with chains. She bit her lip as she took in his face, his hair was pulled up into a bun so she could see every detail. His brown eyes shined from the sun as he squinted to look at her.
"Y/N, right?" Eddie replied, a smile on his face as she nodded.
"Sorry about Dustin. I guess that's what I get from letting a freshman set me up." Eddie joked. His heart fluttered as she laughed at his joke.
"Yeah, I think maybe we should call the shots from now on." She joked back.
"Smart girl," he smirked, "well we are at a movie store. What if we find one and maybe you can come to my place?" He walked closer, his arm leaning on the roof of her car as he leaned over her.
She wasn't sure if it was the sun or him that made her break out into a sweat. He angled his head to block the sun, her eyes fully open as she took him in. Now even closer, she already could tell he was a tease.
"Your place already? Is that how fast you move with all the girls?" Her head raised as she challenged him.
"Oh never! Just the ones that don't leave my mind even before I knew her name." He flirted.
"Well since you are so sweet with words, I'd love to watch a movie."
"It's a date, sweetheart." He reached up to softly rub her cheek. She tried to keep her breathing at a normal pace as she leaned into his touch.
~
Steve looked at Dustin as he waited for him to speak, the boy paced back and forth in front of the counter.
"Dude, just tell me!"
"you know that cousin I was gonna set you up with?" Dustin asked, a small apologetic smile on his face.
"Yeah," Steve said
"Wellllllll" Dustin started, he turned around to see Eddie and Y/N very close as they talked in the parking lot. Barely any space between their bodies. Anyone could read their body language and know they were flirting.
"That's her," Dustin said as he pointed.
"The one almost lip-locking with Eddie?" Steve scoffed
"Yeah! So my bad! See you tomorrow." Dustin said as he rushed out of the store.
"HENDERSON!"
Tags!
@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson request#eddie munson fluff x reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson angst x reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x henderson! reader#ashwhowrites
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mirrorball | s.r x fem!reader
ꨄ requested: anonymous
ꨄ genre: fluff
ꨄ summary: spencer notices how you put other people before you all the time so he decides to do something special for just you.
"oh- um- here, elle. you can have it." you lowered the mug from your face, passing it to her with a fake smile on your face. you had fixed the last tea bag in the office's kitchen and just as you brung it to your face elle walked in talking about making her a cup of tea, only to see that there was no more. so, like you always do, you offered your cup to her.
"are you sure?" she looked down at the mug and then back at you, biting down on her lip. you shrugged your shoulders and nodded your head, handing the mug to her. "thank you! i owe you!"
elle turned around and walked out of the room, you watched her leave with a smile on your face until you couldn't see her anymore. you sighed and turned around, thinking about how you told yourself that you would stop putting other people before you. it's so hard though, especially when you can't stand the thought of making someone upset.
spencer walked into the kitchen just a few minutes later, immediately noticing the way your shoulders slumped. he glanced over at you as he reached into the cabinet to grab the coffee so he could fix a fresh pot.
"did you get your cup of tea?" he asked as he poured coffee into the filters, putting it into the coffee maker. once he got the maker started, he turned and faced you completely. you glanced up and put a smile on your face as you shook your head.
"no, elle came in wanting some tea but i had already used the last bag so i gave her mine." you shrugged your shoulders and looked down at your hands, you started to pick at the skin around your nails. "it's no problem really."
spencer looks down at you picking at your nails, he wants to reach down and grab your hands to stop you but he decides against. even though he's liked you ever since you stepped foot in the office, he's too shy to make a move. you spare him one last glance before walking out of the kitchen.
+++
spencer get's to work before you, before anyone really, and usually he takes the time to get a head start on his reports but this time is different.
before he went home the day before he stopped by the store to grab you some of your favorite things. pens and a new notepad so that you can doodle when you're bored, two boxes of your favorite tea so that you don't have to share with everyone else for a while, a bag of lollipops to refill the container you emptied by giving everyone else them, and some other things you've mentioned that you liked.
he had everything set up perfectly for when you finally walked into the office, your morning cup of tea in your hands and a smile on your face(which he knew was fake most of the time).
you noticed the basket on your desk and an expression of confusion spread across your face. you set your cup down and looked through the basket, a real smile shining through when you saw all your favorite things.
"did anyone see who left this?" you looked around but everyone just shrugged their shoulders and went back to whatever they were doing. though, you did notice how quickly spencer turned around and how red his face was, you walked over to his desk. "thank you, spence. i- i wasn't expecting it."
"it's no problem, re-really." he refused to look into your eyes but you could see how he got redder every second you stood there. you bit down on your bottom lip and turned on your heels, only getting halfway to your desk before spencer called your name. "would you want- could we- i would like to take you out... on a date. only if you want, of course."
you turned around, barely processing the words that were coming out of his mouth. you never expected spencer reid would be asking you out, in a room full of people nonetheless.
"i would love to."
#golden1u5t#myrarants#spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#sub spencer reid#soft dom spencer reid#dom spencer reid#spencer reid fandom#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x fem!reader fluff
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When the reader is mad at gavi and he just keeps apologizing and it's soo cute?
I told him ten times NOT to leave his shoes everywhere! On top having a horrible day at uni, submitting my project late and fighting with my best friend now I have to deal with this! Just great!
"Pablo! What do we do with training shoes!?" I said but he didn't reply obviously oblivious with his gaming head set on laughing with Pedri about something.
Usually I wouldn't care so much but today was such a bad day and I wasn't having it standing right in front of his screen making him notice me finally.
"Perdon chicos but I have a hot distraction here..dame un besito mi amor!" Pablo smirked reaching for me but then I tossed the shoes right in front of him and walked away making him confused.
"Looks like mi chica had a bad day, gotta go!" he said logging out and following after me into the bedroom seeing me at my makeup vanity taking off my makeup in silence.
"Amor, que pasa? Why are you enojada?" he asked but I was done talking for the night last thing I wanted was to fight with him too.
"Silent treatment don't work with me principesa, I'll make you talk.." Pablo smirked trying to kiss my neck but I pulled away not really in the mood for his little ministrations.
"Princesa porfi habla conmigo.." he said but I really couldn't do that right now so I just walked past him to the bathroom and he followed me like a lost puppy. Poor Pablito...
"Aii at least dame un besito and I'll leave you alone, I promise!" he said pouting and I couldn't resist just pecking his lips and pulling away but before I could his arms snaked around my waist roughly kissing me with passion and I sighed walking away.
He really did leave me shower and change which I appreciated since I needed my space right now. When i came to bed tho I started to miss him..I'm not used to not talk to him about my day, to have him hold me and tell me it's okay and to kiss me goodnight.
"Umm P..Pablito?.." I said not too loud so if he doesn't come, I can just pretend that's because he couldn't hear me.
"Couldn't wait for you to call mi amor! Mi princesa! Mi vida!" he was quickly on the bed pulling me in and I giggled but still decided to act "angry" with him. WHo can be angry with this boy!?
"Aiii no porfi enough with the silence..I wanna hear my girl's pretty voice again..how you call me Pablito..say it.." he said holding my face and I just smiled refusing to talk.
"Amor say it...porfiii" he said nuzzling his face into my neck leaving butterfly kisses and since he didn't shave this morning there was a little facial hair (nothing crazy) that was tickling me so I giggled and that gave him an idea.
"If you don't say it I'mma tickle you till you cry!" he said giving me a moment to talk but when I refused he started tickling my sides pulling me underneath him and I was laughing so hard my chest hurt.
"P..Pablo..st..op..porfavorr" I begged him really feeling tears coming to my eye but he wasn't back away moving closer to my ear to whisper his words.
"That's not my name amor..say..it..right" he said and I couldn't hold it back anymore.
"Pablito! Stop!" I said and he finally let go letting me catch my breath and laying besides me instead.
"Now tell your Pablito why are you enojada with him, Hermosa?" he said and I moved closer hiding my face into his neck and leaving a few kisses there..he smelled like him..like home and I was finally able to relax.
"Long day amor..very long day" I answer and he kissed my head nodding his head and holding me tightly just like he knew I needed.
"And your annoying boyfriend leaving shoes all over the house?" he added and I giggled knowing it was silly as I nodded my head.
"Lo siento hermosa, I put away all my shoes just like you like.."he said and I looked up smiling at his handsome face..he really cared so much about me that it was impossible not to kiss him right now.
"I love you Pablito.." I said as I moved away from the kiss and he smiled nodding his head.
"I know mi vida..and I love you so much..even when you're enojada comigo" he smiled kissing me again before we cuddled up and got some well deserved rest together.
#gavigif#gavi#fc barça#pablo gavi x you#fc barcelona#pablo gavi x y/n#pablo gavi x reader#pablo gavi#pablo gavi icons#fc barca
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𝒴ℴ𝓊 𝓃ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇 𝓂ℯ𝓃𝓉𝒾ℴ𝓃ℯ𝒹 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒶 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇
barrys little sister!reader x rafe, she’s naive, innocent, a bit dumb.
You sat on the chair in front of your desk, looking into your vanity mirror with focused eyes as you applied your lip gloss.
You pocketed it after, your eyebrows furrowed when you heard a knock on the door. Your brother was still selling, and he had always had specific instructions to not open the door when he’s not home.
You jumped when the person began banging now, shouting Barry’s name. You were torn, not sure whether or not to disobey your brother.
He shouted even louder, making you sigh and stand up. What’s the worst that could happen? You went over to the door, opening it so there was a crack.
“Hello?” You murmured, peeking through the crack of the door.
“Is he here?” The man asked, his voice urgent. You opened the door wider now, shaking your head at him.
His eyes widened when you opened the door. You were dressed in a pink juicy jacket, your lacy bra peeking out under along with miss me jeans, all things you had luckily found at some garage sale nearby.
And Jesus, if you weren’t the most precious thing he’s ever set his eyes on.
He stammered as he mumbled out an apology, beginning to walk away before you said something.
“Wait, sir!” You spoke, remembering how he also would never want to lose a customer, especially not because of you.
“Yeah?” He turned around.
“Are you- a friend of his, or something?”
He paused. “Something like that, yeah…” he said, his hands scratching the back of his neck.
“I’m sure he won’t mind if you stay here, just until he comes back. He’s out with some other guy right now.” You said with a small shrug, a smile on your face.
It’s as if you were a siren, because he didn’t know why, but he found himself drifting closer to you, shutting the door as he followed you inside.
“You want… coffee or something? Water?” You asked him as you went over to the counter, grabbing some chocolate milk from the fridge and pouring it into the cup.
“Uh.. no- no thanks.” He said, his hands on his knees as he sat on the couch.
You sat onto the other one, not noticing his staring while you drunk the chocolate milk.
“Uhm… if you don’t mind me asking, I’ve never seen you here before, and I know he never lets his girls stay-“
“Ew! No, no, no.” You quickly protested before he could finish, almost spitting out your drink. “I’m his sister.” You said with a giggle, his cheeks turned a light pink.
“Shit- ‘f course. I’m sorry.” He said with a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair.
“It’s okay. I live here, but usually I’m just in my room, and he tells me not to come out when people come over.”
“He never.. mentioned he had a sister. And he definitely didn’t mention he had one who was as pretty as you.” He spoke, his attempt at flirting clearly working when he saw your eyes widen and a small smile spreading across your face.
There was the sound of a motorcycle outside, stepping up to the trailer and going to unlock the door when he finds out it’s already open.
Barry furrowed his eyebrows when he opened the door to see you and Rafe fucking Cameron sitting there.
“The fuck is he doing in here? And what did I tell you about leaving this damn door unlocked? What the hell, y/n?” He said, voice booming.
You looked at him. “I’m sorry! He was banging on the door, and I was trying to do my hair. I can’t do that with all that noise!”
Barry sighed, shaking his head before waving his hand.
“Whatever, just- just go back in the fuckin’ room.” He said, making you huff and storm into the room.
“You never mentioned you had a sister.” Rafe spoke.
“I didn’t for a reason, country club.” Barry mumbled out when he noticed Rafe’s staring , already pulling out a bag full of the white powder.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
A few days later, you were walking around the trailer park, simply saying hello and enjoying the nice weather. Rafe came up, presumably going to Barry. But you stopped him.
“Hey, Rafe!” You said with a smile again.
“Hey, sweetheart. He not here again?” He asked, nodding to the trailer..
“No. Out again. I’m so bored. That’s why I’m out here.”
“How long is he gonna be out?”
“I dunno… but he said he’d be a while.” You said with a shrug.
“It’s too late for a girl like yourself to be outside, you know? I think he would want me to bring you back inside.”
You sighed. “He would say the exact same thing.” You told Rafe with a pout, he just chuckled and put a hand on the small of your back, leading you back to your trailer.
“Uh, I should get going, I guess..” he told you, standing in front of the door now. You watched him begin to leave before you spoke again.
“Wait!” You said, stopping him like you did a few days before.
He turned around, eyebrows furrowed.
“Stay and keep me company? I think he wouldn’t want you leaving his little sister all alone.”
A grin making its way onto his face, he nodded. His plan was working.
Rafe and you sat back on the couch now, your legs propped up on the couch as you switched through the cable channels.
Rafe watched your every move with hungry eyes. He knew he needed to have you, and he would.
#rafe fluff#rafe cameron x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x you#obx rafe cameron#rafe cameron imagines#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron prompt
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a very indulgent exploration of what could've, should've been...
Don't Worry Darling (SPIN-OFF) - Masterlist, Author’s Notes & Warnings / alternatively, read on wattpad
Part One (word count: 6.2k)
“... Jack? Excuse me, Jack? Is that really you?”
The man reluctantly stopped in his tracks and turned around, recognizing the woman but having forgotten her name. “Oh… hi there, uhm…?”
“Emma. It’s Emma. You remember me, right?”
“Yeah, you’re, uhm… you used to work at the hospital…”
Emma approached him, noting he wasn’t keen on breaching the gap himself. Poor fellow, she thought. He looked a mess. She was surprised she’d even recognized him. “Oh, I’m still at the hospital! How are you, Jack? You know, we’re all worried about you. Why didn’t you take us up on our offer, hm? We’d have loved to help you any way we could… It can’t have been easy. Gloria told us she came over once with a home cooked casserole but no one answered the door. She assumed you’d moved. Which is good, we thought. But we couldn’t get a hold of you, you must’ve also changed your number…”
Jack wasn’t really making eye contact. His gaze downcast, a hoodie atop of a beanie on his head and an oversized, worn out puffer jacket that almost swallowed him up. He looked very poorly even hidden behind all that. His facial hair unkempt, as was his hair tucked underneath his beanie, seemingly longer strands of it all messy and straw-like peeking out. His glasses loose at his temples. His face was hollow cheeked and she really feared he wasn’t looking after himself properly at all. But what really stood out to her was the bouquet of flowers he was carrying.
“Yeah… I moved out of there. Too many memories.”
“Those were her favourite… pink roses,” she mused. “You miss her so, don’t you, Jack? You can’t even bear talking to me about her, you poor man, even after all this time… What must you be going through… do you– agh. This is so insensible of me to even ask. Forgive me. But if it’s any consolation, us at the hospital haven’t given up hope. We still think she’s out there, somewhere, our Alice…”
Jack cleared his throat and took a step back. “I should get going…”
“Of course. Do take care of yourself, Jack. And if you ever want to reach out, you know where to find us. Take all the time you need.”
“Thank you,...” he stammered a bit, not knowing what else to say. He walked for a while in the wrong direction, just in case the nosy woman decided to follow him.
He hadn’t moved. That would’ve been near impossible, and since he managed to dodge the bullet while the police were sniffing around for the longest time, he figured there wasn’t any reason to do so anymore. But he couldn’t have her know that, which is why he never answered the door to the other woman with the casserole either.
After making sure she wasn’t following him, he resumed his walk home. He wished he could find some type of work from home. He’d be saving so much time and money on the commute, plus he’d always be there, which was quite imperative, all things considered.
What if there was a power outage? The one time that’d happened, there’d been dire consequences. Consequences he hadn’t had to endure. And he simply couldn’t allow that to happen again.
There were so many things that could go wrong while he wasn’t home.
Plus, if he worked remote he could take on a full shift. As it was, he had to work part-time, which wasn’t nearly enough to make ends meet. But the commute and all the prep he had to do were taking up too much time, time he didn’t want to waste here.
Finally arriving home, he made sure to secure the front door- the lock and all 3 of the bolts.
Checking the computer screen, he only had 40 minutes left. The woman had made him late, what with all the detours he had to make to be sure she wasn’t following him.
Canned tuna it was, then. Again. No time for cooking. Not that he had much in the fridge anyway.
He always felt antsy between the time he got back home and logging in. He wanted to get everything done and out of the way as soon as possible- cooking, laundry, cleaning (more like tidying up, the apartment was far from clean even by his standards), everything on autopilot, peeking at the computer screen every now and then to make sure he didn’t miss his log-in window.
With 20 minutes to spare, that was his que.
“Oh!” He rushed back to the kitchen to retrieve the flowers, then using the keys that he wore on a chain around his neck for safekeeping, he unbolted yet another set of locks on the bedroom door.
There she was.
His heart always swelled in his chest seeing her there, safe and sound. Everyday day, without fail, a sigh of relief escaped his lips once he entered the bedroom. He’d probably never stop worrying while he was away for work.
“Darling, I… miss you all the time…” he hummed the lyrics to a song he used to sing to her often, placing the flowers in a vase by the bed. “Got you flowers, your favourite! Even that pesky Emma from the hospital remembers they’re your favourite. You’re so loved, hm? My precious girl.” He sat on the edge of the bed and reached to caress her supple cheek. “But I love you the most.”
Jack knew he did. Who else would do all this for her? Nobody! He tended after her, emptied out her waste bags as well as checked the respective connecting catheters were secure in place, cleaned her up, all without so much as wrinkling his nose. He replaced the IV, taking note that there was some bruising on that arm so he made sure to switch, he removed her compressive socks and massaged her limbs thoroughly before putting them back on, even made sure to hydrate her lips though she was getting all her nutrients through her IV, hell- he thought of everything. He did it all for her happily, and would do much more if needed.
She’d done so much for them, too.
She still did!
But long gone were the days where he’d see her come home from back to back shifts at the hospital, with barely any time to get some sleep in before she had to head back, all because she had to support the both of them all while paying off her student loans.
Medschool was so expensive. Had he met her before he’d have talked her out of that career path. He’d have talked her out of any career! No. That was his job. He was the caretaker. He was the breadwinner. It’d been like that since the beginning of time. It was only natural for the man to provide. The fact that she’d had to for all that time had been killing him, every day that he had to sit at home and wait for her to get back from the hospital only to see her defeated, exhausted, drained beyond belief.
Resident doctors were paid shit but strung out to the max. Especially surgeons.
Meanwhile, Jack had struggled to find a job for the longest time. Unlike her, he hadn’t gone to college, let alone university. His parents couldn’t afford it at the time and he knew better than to tie himself up in student loans. He’d had odd jobs but nothing really ever stuck. He had no real skills, and every entry job demanded some form of higher education nowadays.
Plus, someone had to do house chores, cook and clean. And they couldn’t afford help.
It’d been eating him up inside. It was all backwards!
All up until he’d met someone online and got to talking over a game of World of Warcraft. This guy swore up and down about this dark web programme he’d found, but it was all very hush-hush, and Jack had to put in some serious gameplay time until he managed to extricate the info out of him.
The guy was very paranoid about telling him and even used a code system for what to look up. Jack took the lead and before long, he fell down the rabbit hole of what he now knew to be the Victory Project.
He got so immersed trying to digest all this new info being thrown his way all of a sudden that he nearly got caught listening to one of the podcasts when she’d gotten home from the hospital one day. He’d even forgotten to call the plumber. Boy- had that pissed her off.
She was already on edge all the time. Never had any time for him anyway- but if she got upset over silly little things she shut him out completely.
He felt emasculated. Rejected. Reduced to a housewife.
Jack smirked to himself, as he tended to her whilst pondering all that. Securing the straps back around her wrists he mused at how things had changed. “I fixed it for us, I told you I would. Now you’re the one who’s waiting for me just as we speak. And I don’t even come home to you in scrubs, do I? No, I come home to you all handsome, suit and tie and ready to get my fill of you. Never too tired for you, am I darling? You’re such a great cook, god knows my mouth waters just thinking of all you’ve slaved over for us to feast on, but all I wanna do is feast on you instead. Aren’t you lucky?”
Jack watched her expressionless eyes for a moment as if waiting for her to answer him back, and promptly remembered to apply her eye drops, noticing they looked extra blood-shot than normal. He then finally got comfy in bed next to her. He couldn’t wait a moment longer. He was hard already just in anticipation of the way she’d excitedly open the door for him. The door to their lavish home, and their extravagant life together that he’d earned for the two of them. Him.
He fixed the device around his own eyes and turned it on, taking her hand in his.
“Welcome to the Victory Project. There are currently 72 active users.”
Nothing beat this. The pleasant, warm afternoon air sweeping through his perfectly coiffed hair as he rushed to get home to her from the Victory Headquarters. Here, the weather was always perfect… whereas, in the apartment, he had to keep the heating on a lower setting, the bill was ridiculous during the colder months. He always had to wear layers and layers, but not in the bedroom- no, he kept a radiator in there. All for her. He had to switch it off for safety reasons while he was away at work but it wasn’t like she was aware of her surroundings anyway! All the more reasons why he had to find something remote so he could work from home and clear up all these little things that bugged him about the whole arrangement.
But he didn’t want to think about all that, not while he was here. No, here, those problems didn’t exist. This was his preferred reality, this was what he chose to believe was real. All the rest was just a means to an end.
He could feel all his exhaustment leave his body the closer he got to the house. He seldom wondered why she couldn’t have done the same for him coming back from the hospital. Why she couldn’t just leave all that baggage at the door and be glad to be home, back to him, where he waited for her like a lovesick puppy with separation anxiety.
He knew the answer to that now, of course, and that was all Frank’s merit- the brain behind this whole thing. He’d listened to his podcasts for a long while before he enrolled into the program. There was no way she could ever respect him within their given dynamic at the time. The roles were reversed and she couldn’t allow herself to be a woman to her man.
He’d fixed it, though, and boy, had Frank been right.
Every day, without fail, he knocked on the door coming home from work and there she was- all smiles and carefree and so eager to please him, in any way he saw fit. All because she respected him now. He was the man of the house, he was the breadwinner, he put a roof over her head, he got her all her little heart desired and kept her satisfied and happy.
Which is why when nobody answered the door he was a bit taken aback.
Using his key that he’d rarely ever had to use himself to unlock the door, he let himself in and carefully inspected the silent house.
He knew, realistically, that there was no way something could’ve gone wrong- there was no crime in Victory. No one had broken into their home. But still, he searched the house tentatively. “Alice?”
Everything was spotless, and most striking of all, he couldn’t smell a trace of the homecooked meal he’d so been looking forward to. That tuna was enough to sustain his physical body, but not his large appetite.
Reaching the bedroom, he furrowed his brows with worry upon finding her… sleeping. Passed out on the bed, clad in her street clothes. She’d seemingly come back home from town exhausted and must’ve stretched her bones a bit by the looks of it.
He contemplated waking her up. Maybe crawling between her thighs and having her gasp awake at the feel of him lapping languidly at her folds. He loved waking her up like that, and she did too. She loved being loved on, and Jack absolutely loved pleasuring her. She was so much more responsive, so much more sensitive to his touch, he could pleasure her over and over for hours on end. Probably ‘cause of all the practice he was having on a regular basis. And maybe he adjusted some settings regarding his stamina while creating his profile too, but at the end of the day, why not? He did it for her. All of this was for her!
Jack grunted to himself before closing the door to the bedroom so he wouldn’t perturb her sleep, deciding last minute to forgo his initial plans. Funny he’d been reminiscing about how things used to be just in time for this to happen all of a sudden.
It must’ve been a glitch in the system or something. This wasn’t in line with what he’d designed for themselves. Here, they were never tired, ill or imperfect in any way. Jack made a mental note to look into this after he logged out.
In the meanwhile- he’d never tried his hand at cooking here, where presumably he’d be a lot better at it than he was in reality.
Just like with everything else.
*
Alice blinked her eyes awake. She took in her surroundings and hesitantly stood up on the bed in the dark room, letting her sight adjust.
How did she get back here? Not here, here. She had an inkling of how she’d managed that- but back to the house, from the Headquarters. She couldn’t remember making the trek back.
Maybe she didn’t have to.
Maybe this was the default setting she woke up to everytime after entering… the simulation. Because, what else was this if not that?!
How long was she out of it? Judging by the darkness surrounding her, a good few hours. Perking her ears up, she could hear music- so Jack was home too.
She cradled her knees to her chest, trying to let it all sink in. She hadn’t had time to properly digest what had happened, in her unconscious state.
Hell, she was surprised she could even remember.
But this explained it… explained all the fuzzy deja vu-like flashbacks she kept having. Explained her brain fog and all the things she just couldn’t follow through in her train of thought. Explained why she sometimes couldn’t account for most of her day until Jack came home from work, almost as if she’d been on auto-pilot.
Explained all the vivid “dreams”.
They weren’t fanciful dreams, idealistic wishes of a progressive feminist world for which she’d gotten shock therapy at the Victory’s doctor’s orders.
They were her memories.
Waking up tied down to that bed… her own bed, from another life, had been traumatic, but she clearly was still in shock to be so calm about it.
She hadn’t been calm initially of course- not when she couldn’t move her arms or blink her eyes shut.
She’d managed to slip out of the confines, her wrists weak and frail and barely recognizable, yanking her IV out of her vein by accident- she hadn’t even known it was there!, all in an effort to get those things that forced her eyes open off of her face.
She’d been hysteric. Tried to muffle her own screams, because she didn’t know who was around to hear them. Tried to calm herself down, but the more she noticed, the more she hyperventilated. Like the fact that had both urinary and rectal catheters sticking out of her. Then she noticed how emaciated she looked, almost like she couldn’t even recognize her own body. She couldn’t feel her limbs, she felt numb and achy all over, bruises all across her skin from sitting still for so long. Her throat was hoarse, she couldn’t really scream that loud even if she wanted to.
She’d fumbled out of bed and immediately collapsed to the floor. She was too weak to stand, and she prayed she hadn’t broken any bones in her fall. She sat there crying in a fetal position for god knows how long, thinking of all the fractures she’d fixed in the OR, and all her knowledge that had gone to waste.
All her life that had gone to waste!
This room, this bedroom- her old life came back to her in a flash, flooding all her senses. It felt like everything was finally clicking into place, and despite how miserable and utterly devastated she felt, it was a relief to finally figure it out.
With the way nobody came rushing into the bedroom, she knew she was alone. Unless Jack was at this computer, headphones on– oh god. She felt her mind split into two trying to reconcile the fact that these two very different men were one and the same!
She was alone strapped to the bed- which could only mean one thing. He wasn’t constrained like she was. He hadn’t been forced into this. Unless they were being kept separate… both victims of this sick mindfuck.
Because… surely– surely Jack couldn’t be behind this.
… Could he?
Scrambling for the door, determined to get some answers, she reached for the doorknob.
When she couldn’t get it to open, she mustered up all her strength to stand up- but still- it was no use. It was locked. And with the way it felt it looked like the door had been tampered with, bolted shut from the outside, not just locked.
She was trapped. A prisoner in her own home. She eyed the windows next and even if by some miracle they weren’t bolted shut too- she knew she was too weak to try and use the fire escape. She’d surely succumb to her death trying to evade. She needed a plan- a better plan.
Her brain was scurrying to come up with something-anything, all the while dry heaving at the sight of her waste bags still attached to her by those catheters and the overall stale smell of the room, but she knew that with how dehydrated she was, vomiting would take her out completely at that point. She head to keep it together, had to–
She’d heard what she recognized to be the front door. Her blood froze in her veins. She didn’t know who it was, she had no idea who was behind all this. She had no clue where Jack was, if he even was part of this– her heart told her no, he couldn’t have, but at this point she had no way of knowing what was real or not, let alone what this all meant.
She couldn’t risk being found conscious. She was clearly being kept in a comatose state, treated as one such patient at least, and the fact that she’d woken up from that induced state was definitely not intended to happen.
She remembered what had happened before she woke up like this- she’d reached the infamous, off limits Victory Headquarters. Because a plane had crashed in that direction, and the trolley driver didn’t believe her nor wanted to take her there!
She’d made the trek all the way there… it’d taken her ages, in the scorching sun- and finally, finally, she’d reached the imposing building, in hopes of finding some help or at least some answers at that point!
Next thing she knew, she’d woken up strapped to this bed. Her bed, in her old bedroom, from her old life that had been stolen away from her!
She needed to gather as much information as possible, and the only way she could do that was to get back into that bed and pretend she never came to.
There was no other way.
She hurried as best she could, barely making it back to the bed, made sure she was laid out in the same outstretched position. By some miracle, the catheters were still in place, their respective bags on the floor by the foot of the bed. The hardest part was fixing whatever that contraption was over her face and around her eyes. It dug deep into her flesh and she remembered to wipe any traces of tears from her face when new ones began rolling down her face. She was surprised her body could even produce them with how parched she felt. She then inserted the needle back into her bruised vein– which was sure to get infected at this rate, whoever was doing this to her was amateur at best, or they didn’t much care to keep her alive. She didn’t know which prospect was worse. She slipped her wrists back through the strap loops, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious she’d gotten them a bit loose when she struggled her way out of them.
And then she’d waited. And waited. And waited. All the while a bright red light scanned her eyeballs systematically, no doubt whatever was used to induce her into that trance or whatever it was that created the optimal parameters for the alternate reality to take place. She couldn’t even wrap her mind around it. She couldn’t even begin to understand how it worked- all she knew was that it was all too real to be just a dream. No. That was a controlled environment. The world simulation came to her again.
Her whole body froze as she’d heard the lock, then what she counted to be 3 other bolts on the bedroom door. She could only see directly above her, and that barely- but she could hear him when he came in.
Smell him, even.
And it wasn’t the smell of expensive cologne she’d grown used to, but a more familiar smell. A smell that felt more real, more ingrained in her subconscious- that of clothes he’d dug out of the laundry hamper to wear a few more times when everything else was too dirty even for his own standards, mixed with canned tuna and the faintest amount of deodorant that did nothing to mask the fact that he’d skipped showering for a day or two.
Her heart sank when she heard him hum to himself the song that had been stuck in her mind for ages- the one she’d been humming herself but couldn’t remember where she knew it from. This is where she knew it from. It’d been their song, in a way, a song he’d made up just for her.
“Darling, I… miss you all the time… Got you flowers, your favourite! Even that pesky Emma from the hospital remembers they’re your favourite. You’re so loved, hm? My precious girl.” She felt him sit on the edge of the bed and tried her best not to flinch when he leaned in to caress her cheek. “But I love you the most.”
She could feel her eyes well up with tears. Tears she couldn’t even blink away.
He then started tending to her and she mustered up all of her willpower not to lurch at him when he’d gotten her out of her restraints- she knew she was no match for him, not in her weakened state by any means.
He was doing this to her. It was him! All while declaring his love for her. She felt her heart break into a million pieces, all the while forcing herself not to make any movements and break her cover. Not even when he cleaned her with wet wipes up and checked the catheters, emptying the waste bags. God- she wished she was dead. For a while she zoned out completely, much like rape victims. She just let it happen to her, dissociating from her body completely, mentally checking out.
He’d eventually poured what must’ve been eyedrops into her sockets and that brought her back to reality. Whatever reality was anymore…
And then… to her utter shock, she felt him get in bed next to her. The familiar clank of the device she’d placed back onto herself could be heard and she realized he was putting on the same headgear.
He was… joining her? He was willingly putting himself through this? Sure, he wasn’t forced into it against his will, there was nobody strapping himself to the bed, nobody feeding him through an IV and treating him like a comatose patient.
But he was entering the simulation the same way she was. Through that headgear.
Is this what he did everyday while he was “at work”? Was this the infamously secret Victory Project that she couldn’t even ask him about- exiting that alternate reality and coming back here?
She heard him switch it on and then the whole room went dark before a projector of sorts played a familiar black and white scene on the ceiling, above the bed. She felt him interlace his fingers with hers and she was done for- she couldn’t fight it. Whatever this was, it was working fast, making her slip into unconsciousness almost immediately.
Followed directly after by her waking up in her other bedroom. Unrestrained. Nothing to force her eyes open. Clean. Rejuvenated even.
But scared shitless.
Traumatised.
Heartbroken.
She didn’t know how long she stood there, trying to make sense of it all in the darkness. Thankful to be able to move freely, thankful to feel like her old self, but well aware that it was all an illusion, that her real self was held hostage somewhere god knows where. Helpless, frail and alone.
She felt conflicted. Why was he doing this?! Why had he done this to her? She’d heard him say he loved her most. Heard he’d brought her flowers, even though she couldn’t even see them. Felt him tend to her, he was doing a lousy job at it but was keeping her alive and she could tell he was trying his best, being gentle, careful, thoughtful even when the reality was he didn’t have to. Not when, for all he knew, she was unconscious.
This was insanity.
There was no other explanation. No other justification. She understood the nuances- could see why this was- on paper- a better life. But it was fake! And most of all, it wasn’t her choice!
She’d been forced into it, against her will, without her even being aware of it! Her life had been robbed away from her. Her family, her friends, her hard work. The only common denominator… was Jack.
She didn’t know how to go about it, but if there was any chance of her escaping, she had to play dumb and pretend she knew nothing.
She wasn’t sure how she could face him knowing what she did, but she had to. She had to buy time, enough time until she could put her plan into motion.
She didn’t know if she’d succeed, but she had to try. She had to. She had to escape, claim her life back, good or bad.
She got off the bed, marvelling at how strong and healthy she felt, as opposed to how she’d collapsed on the floor in her real body. That alone emboldened her, she had to go face the music.
And face the music she did. Jack had put a record on, blasting it at high volume with little consideration to her being asleep. No surprises there.
But as she approached the kitchen, she took in the sight of him… cooking. Or, trying to cook.
Apparently, you couldn’t tweak everything in this alternate reality. Or maybe he didn’t care to fumble with his cooking skills. Because he’d definitely perfected some of his other skills–
“You’re awake!... I didn’t have time to set the table.”
“What’s going on?” She watched him scurry around the kitchen, trying to do a dozen things at once and failing.
“Well, I’m making you dinner. Now, we were supposed to have five courses. Unfortunately, I think we’re down to about three.”
She took note of the mess, especially the way something was about to catch on fire on the stove.
“That– don’t look at that. That course is officially off the menu.”
That’s when it clicked in her brain– the fucker had switched up his accent! He had a British accent here! Oh, she could laugh if she didn’t feel like murdering him. She reminded herself it wouldn’t be the real him she’d be murdering, though. No, for all she knew if she harmed him in any way here, she might end up trapped inside this simulation forever if her plan failed. Or until her real body died, with no one to tend for it, even as poorly as he was, in the real world.
She had to thread carefully. “What happened?”
“I got a little aggressive with the seasoning.”
“How long have you been home?”
“Uh, a few hours.” He proceeded to make even more of a mess in his attempt to jump from one dish to the next. “Okaaay. Nope. Don’t look at that. That’s– Okay, so I’m making that roast, you know the one you made for my birthday? Only with a few changes…”
“I was here when you got here?”
“Yeah. Asleep in the bedroom. Do you put carrots in a roast?”
“How did I get home?” That was a reasonable question. Last thing she knew of this reality was she’d reached the Headquarters. She needed to know if anyone knew about it.
“Trolley, I think.”
“Wait, so he came out and got me?!”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Jack, I got off the trolley. I saw a plane crash.”
“Alice, I think I would’ve heard if there was a plane crash.”
“No, Jack, I saw it…”
“They tend to be rather loud…”
“... and I started walking–”
“–and hard to miss.”
It was dawning on her that she wasn’t going to milk any info on this out of him. He was going to pretend the plane never crashed, of course, whatever that even meant for this simulation. Or maybe the plane crashing was only visible to her version of this altered reality. She couldn’t know for sure. But he seemed unconcerned otherwise. She didn’t think he knew she’d gone there. She really must’ve re-entered right back into the bedroom, after all, she, along with all the other women, were never meant to go up there, the Headquarters were off-limits.
Meaning that was probably from where the men entered. Since they were the only ones who came and left. The women were probably all bound to their own respective beds back in the real world, they were never meant to leave the simulation. It made sense why she’d found herself back in the house- where she belonged. And it made sense if that was where the man entered and exited since that’s where they all allegedly went everyday for “work”.
Her heart sank at the realization that it was highly probable that all the other women were victims, just like her. Unless everything and everyone else was a simulation around them.
“Hey. Are you okay?”
She tried not to flinch when Jack finally noticed she’d zoned out whilst trying to process all of this, and touched her shoulder, taking a better look at her.
“No…I don’t know–I’m not…”
Before she could react, he pulled her into his arms. That smell of expensive cologne hit her again, overriding the smell of stale clothes and canned tuna from her recent memory. And his embrace felt so familiar, so comforting, that for a moment she allowed herself to pretend like this was the person she knew to love her. The person she couldn’t wait to come back home from work everyday. The person that made her smile and laugh and moan and cry tears of happiness. She knew him well, she loved him with all her heart. And she was reluctant to accept that this man was the same that was keeping her strapped against the bed. Because that was the reality of it.
But this version of Jack that was holding her felt so real as well…
“I had a really weird dream. A really weird dream…”
“I’m sorry.”
Her heart sank. Was he, sorry? She buried her face deeper into his chest and held her breath, stifling a sob as tears flooded her eyes immediately. She wanted to break down in his arms and ask him why he’d done this. She wanted to give him a chance to explain himself. Wanted for him to somehow, magically, make it all better.
But she knew there was no way for him to do it. There was nothing he could say or do to justify what he’d done to her, even if his intentions didn’t seem as evil as they truly were to him.
Because she knew Jack. She knew he’d probably convinced himself somehow that this was the only way out of the miserable life they were living- and be it as it were, it was her life! He’d had no right to steal it from her like that.
“Do you know what weird dreams make me? Hungry.” He fed her a carrot he was holding jokingly then turned her around as she chewed absentmindedly, her mind racing, still taking in the reality of what her life was. Or the alternate reality, more like it.
Jack cupped her face, searching her eyes and declared solemnly, “Alice, I want to be honest with you about something.”
She almost choked on the carrot she was chewing on. Was he–
“I don’t think these mashed potatoes are gonna work.”
She swallowed, a bitter taste in her mouth at her naivete. “That’s because you need to boil them first, baby…”
“I knew it… I knew there was a step missing. Such an idiot,” he smiled bashfully.
She laughed at that. A manic laugh, but he didn’t seem to notice. Not at how incompetent he was at such a basic life skill- who the hell tries to mash raw potatoes?!- but at how hopeful she’d been for a moment there, believing he was about to confess everything just like that, out of the blue.
“Let me put a pot on…”
“No, no, no–”
“Come on, let me–”
“Make us some drinks. Relax.” He pulled her out of the kitchen and into the lounge, declaring “I am your chef tonight!”
Lord knew she desperately needed a drink at this point, so she sighed heavily, getting to it, when he stopped her in her tracks, “hey!”
“Hm?”
“You love me?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. She replied like she used to, back in the real world. Something she didn’t remember ever doing here, but it just came to her by reflex now that her memory of her past life had come back to her fully. And for some reason that she couldn’t explain, she meant it, still. “The most.”
Jack seemed pleased with her answer, and resumed his ‘cooking’. Alice turned to the whiskey bottle and downed two doubles, one after the other.
How was she ever going to get free when her stupid heart had meant what she said?
She couldn’t allow herself to be fooled by this false reality any longer. Couldn’t allow to slip into his arms again and pretend he loved her when this was anything but love.
So she waited. Waited until he fell asleep that night (thankfully all the “cooking” had seemingly tired him out and he didn’t try anything)- praying this meant he was truly asleep.
Got dressed, tiptoed out of the house and geared up for a long journey to the Headquarters. She couldn’t risk taking the car and waking him or the neighbours up, alerting them with this unusual behaviour. There weren't any trolleys late at night by any means- everyone was sound asleep.
Everyone but her.
She was no longer asleep.
A/N: i've been meaning to get to this for the longest while! hopefully it scratches some itches we've been left with. i had fun writing this first part. more to come 👀
💕 like & reblog if you enjoyed this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌
🦋follow me on wattpad to get notified whenever i post something new/update!🦋
#dwd#don't worry darling#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#harry styles writing#harry styles smut#jack chambers#florence pugh
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The Right Time
Pairing: Band Member!Azriel x College Student!Reader
Description: Azriel wakes up with a massive hangover and the girl of his dreams sitting in his kitchen.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 3390
Notes: This story is set immediately after Loose Lips and Big Feelings so I encourage you to read it before this one. It's also part of the band au if you're curious to know more about them. Hope you enjoy!
Band AU Masterlist
Azriel can feel the headache even before he opens his eyes, a groan escaping him when he slowly comes to after a strangely lucid dream. He raises up a hand to cover his face, trying to protect his eyes from any light filtering in through the blinds. It's been a while since he's gotten this drunk, ever since he and his brothers decided to take a serious chance at this band thing, performances and rehearsals taking up most of their weekends.
As a rush of broken memories carrying your voice and images of your teasing smile come back to him, he remembers the other reason he'd abstained from drinking lately. He's been patient with your feelings and trying to take things as slow as possible, not wanting to make a single mistake to ruin what he's sure could be the best thing that has ever happened to him. A drunken sloppy confession is the farthest thing from what he's been planning, and you deserve nothing but the best.
He sits up with a grunt, pausing slowly as he finds the strength to get up, his head felt like it weighed as much as whatever Cassian benches. As Azriel looks down at himself he notices he's only wearing his underwear, but a glance at where his clothes are carefully placed over the back of his desk chair tells him he wasn't the one to take them off. He runs a hand through his hair, you had been the one to take him home, that much he knows for sure, in fact the last thing he remembers was you grabbing his hand and leading him to a car with bright eyes. The image that flashes of you helping him take off his shirt has him finally get up and rush to his bathroom.
More and more memories come to him as he takes a shower and puts on his clothes, cringing softly at how the first thought in his drunk mind was to ask you to meet him, how you came to find him even though you told him you were tired and then preceded to spend the entire night babysitting him. There isn't a single memory he has from the night before where you weren't right by his side. He can't recall even half the things he told you but he remembers you listening to everything, holding his hand and smiling at him the whole time. As much as he's a little embarrassed of the situation, his heart also feels like it might beat out of his chest.
Distractedly pulling some sweatpants on after haphazardly drying his hair, Azriel grabs his phone up from his nightstand and starts walking to the kitchen while trying to see if you left him any messages, already pondering on what he should say after everything that happened the previous night. Pretending he didn't remember anything is an easy out, but he's not sure he can lie to your pretty face, or even if he wants to.
What he didn't expect in his wildest dreams was to turn the corner and look up from his phone to find you sitting at his table eating breakfast.
Azriel pauses midstep, caught completely by surprise when you look up at him with an amused expression, albeit looking a little surprised yourself. It takes him entirely too long to snap out of it and in the meantime your eyes start traveling down his body, taking note of how little clothes he's wearing while his face heats up. Since he only expected Cassian to be home, he hadn't bothered to put on a shirt. Intrigue fills your gaze as you trace every tattoo covering his torso and arms. There was something else swirling in your eyes, a certain heat that told him his tattoos weren't the only thing you were studying.
He clears his throat before speaking, subtly getting your attention back to his eyes, not sure how to deal with the weight of that heat over breakfast. “Good morning,” his throat still feels dry, making his voice come out raspier than usual. You bite your bottom lip softly before offering a shy greeting of your own as your smile returns, even if adorned with tinted cheeks at being caught staring at him.
“I hope you don't mind but I stayed in the guest room,” you start softly, pointing to the hallway as you spoke, “It was late when I finally managed to get you into bed,” you bite your lip again as if remembering the entire ordeal, trying to bite back a chuckle, “I've never seen you that drunk.”
He's glad you didn't go back home by yourself at such a late hour, and doesn't even want to think about what could have happened. A funny feeling also blooms in his chest at the thought of you deeming his house safe to stay the night in. The problem was the guest room was a mess and the idea of you not only seeing it but also sleeping there made him cringe softly once again. The room had been turned into somewhat of a storage room when he and Cassian moved in since they didn't really need it and had extra stuff to put away. The countless promises between each other to tidy it up were forgotten the longer they stayed in the apartment. The last time you'd slept over he offered his own bed for this exact reason, but he understands why you wouldn't want to sleep with him when he was that drunk.
“I don't remember the last time I was that drunk,” he confesses, tearing his eyes away from you and moving to the fridge to find some food, desperately trying to act normal when the domesticity in this whole situation threatens to send him into cardiac arrest.
Azriel had easily accepted that the two of you would stay friends until you sorted out your life and had a chance to think about your relationship. He was more than confident you liked him as much as he liked you so it wasn't too hard to do. In truth, he was also perfectly content in being your friend even if that's all you ever wanted from him. But moments like these, with you sitting on his kitchen chair, wearing one of his shirts and what he suspects is a pair of his boxers, eating your favorite cereal - the ones he made sure to add to his grocery list - out of his bowl, after everything that happened the night before, was making it really hard for him to ignore his feelings. The only thing he can think about right now is how much he wants to kiss you, maybe bring you back to bed with him so he can cuddle you and sleep off this headache in your arms.
He takes his time assembling a bowl of cereal of his own, sluggish movements not pairing well with how distracted he was. By the time he turns back around, bowl in hand, he notices how your face had changed from the beautiful amused expression you had been wearing when he came in into a conflicted one. He wasn't sure if it was his fault, but he felt this intense need to change it back around either way. And so he walks to the table and sits right next to you, giving you a smile when you look up at him with slightly wide eyes.
“Are you okay?”
You blink and recover immediately, pushing your thoughts away as if only now remembering he was right there. “I should be the one to ask you that,” your hand raises slowly, hesitating for just a moment before fixing his hair, brushing it softly away from his face, he hadn't even thought about how messy it must be, “You look a bit like shit if I'm being honest.”
He chuckles at this, though with the way you were eyeing him up earlier no one would have guessed. “I feel like shit too. I have half a mind to go back to sleep.”
“I'm actually surprised you slept through the night,” you say as you pull your hand away seemingly content with his hair for now, much to his dismay.
“We haven't really gotten to party in a while. I guess I got carried away with the celebration too,” he scratches the back of his neck and stuffs a spoon of cereal into his mouth, chewing slowly as you turn sideways in your chair, fully facing him now.
“Right, I almost forgot! Congratulations. I know you guys have been working really hard. You really deserve this. I'm sure you're going to start getting booked a lot more all over the city after this.” Your excitement makes him blush, never one to know what to say when someone praises him so openly and finding it even harder to handle coming from you. He simply nods and lets out a small thank you, but you don't seem offended, in fact your grin even widens. You already know him so well.
Silence falls between you again, notably more comfortable than before, as you seem to get lost in thought and he tries not to think about the way your knees brush his thigh, or how beautiful you look in his kitchen, sitting and talking to him while wearing his clothes, hair still messy and eyes still a bit puffy, how he wishes he got to see this every day.
You bring your elbow to rest on the table, face falling against your hand as your gaze falls back on him, making up your mind on whatever was bothering you. When you call out his name softly, he instantly turns to face you as if he was a sailor being charmed to the bottom of the ocean by his enchanting siren, and his breath almost gets knocked out of him for the nth time since he walked into this kitchen.
“Do you remember everything that happened last night?” You bring your other hand to play with the back of his chair, your eyes following your movements. He's inclined to believe it was so you didn't reach out to touch him again, he's definitely noticed how touchy you are, especially with him. You looked clearly nervous about his answer. The question is, would you be relieved if he remembered or if he didn't? Gods, he really hopes you don't regret any of what you told him the night before because there is no way he will ever be able to forget the sweet words.
“Most of it,” he admits, studying your expression intently and turning slightly so he's closer to facing you.
“And is there anything you regret saying?” So that's what it was. You had probably been scared he was too drunk to know what he was saying. The notion is actually laughable, if anything he was still holding back even as drunk as he was. He could write a whole album about you, in fact he's in the process of finishing a song he can only credit to you.
“I meant every word, princess.” You give him a shy smile in response and just as you were about to open your mouth to tell him something, his roommate decides to walk into the kitchen.
“Good morning. Didn't realize we had guests,” he sends Azriel a knowing smile, reading the room all wrong and prompting you to move away from him.
“I brought Azriel home last night and ended up staying in the guest room since it was late,” you explain, clearly catching on to Cassian's thoughts. Azriel couldn't really fault him for thinking you'd slept together since it's more than obvious to anyone that he's head over heels for you and you're currently sitting in their kitchen wearing his clothes, you have also stayed in his room a couple times before. Still, it clearly embarrassed you and he hopes the glare he sends Cassian is enough to make him swallow any further comments he might have come up with.
Cass straightens up slightly, thankfully catching on to your tone, even though there was still a twinkle in his eye Azriel had to hold himself back from wiping off his face. “That's very nice of you. Thank you for making sure our bassist got home safe,” he immediately responds in a jokingly tone, “What would we do without him?” You let out a chuckle at this.
“Maybe I should have helped you too. I heard you stumble in later into the night,” you tease. Azriel feels his entire body relax at your change in demeanor.
“I wasn't stumbling. I even opened the door on the first try.” Your giggles fill the room, clearly not believing his brother. He can't laugh himself since he can't remember how he got in and it had definitely been with your help, but he's more than aware of Cassian's lack of coordination when he gets a little drunk.
“What about Rhys and Mor? Did they make it home? I don't have their phone numbers, I thought about asking for them so they could let me know when they got home but everyone was so gone by the time I even got there.”
“I don't think Mor went to her house but she texted me earlier,” a cheeky grin spreading on his face before he continued, “Rhysie definitely got home. He brought company too.”
“Feyre?” You lean forward slightly, suddenly very interested in the gossip. Cassian nods dramatically. “Finally. They've been making eyes at each other for so long. It was bound to happen.”
As soon as the words leave your mouth, Azriel tenses up again, easily catching on to the parallels. Apparently so does Cassian, the range of emotions that pass by his face as he looks between Azriel and you and back again are nothing short of hilarious. Azriel would have laughed out loud if they weren't at his expense. Cassian looked almost incredulous as he looked at Azriel.
Your eyes widen as you watch Cassian, an embarrassed expression falling over your face once again. You clearly only understood how your words could be applied to your relationship with Azriel after you've said them out loud. It really was impossible not to notice but now Azriel wants nothing more than to grab Cassian by the shoulders and shake as hard as he can until his brother finds some manners and stops making you feel like this.
He almost wishes he never got out of bed. This really wasn't the type of conversation to be having in his kitchen, definitely not with the headache that still pounded at his brain or in front of Cassian. Hell, if he had been mistaken this whole time, this would be the saddest place to get his heart broken and he didn't need an audience for that. He'd have to find another apartment and roommate just to have a chance at ever forgetting your face.
“Don't you have to get ready for work?” Azriel needed to get him out of there before he could do any more damage. The look on your face was making his chest feel tight. You sat in the chair picking at the hem of your shirt, you truly looked like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.
“Yeah. I still need to shower,” Cassian caught on fast, leaving the kitchen without even saying another word. Azriel glances at you when he hears a door close in the distance, catching your eyes already searching his face. It seemed neither of you knew what to say.
You were right, Feyre and Rhys had been running circles around each other for a few weeks now, but you and Azriel had been at it for months. All the stolen glances, lingering touches, sweet words were getting harder and harder to ignore or deny. It crosses Azriel's mind that if he leaned in the already short distance between you two and kissed you, everything could be resolved in this exact kitchen, headache or no headache, but you deserve so much more and the thought sobers him up, biting his lip and dragging his eyes away from your inviting mouth.
“I should actually go too,” you whisper, noticing the change in the atmosphere. You're up on your feet before he has the chance to react, setting your empty bowl in the sink.
“You don't have to do that,” Azriel starts but you shake your head, stopping him in whatever he was going to say next.
“I do, I have assignments to finish,” you pull the shirt down a little, probably hyper aware that it was his, “I need to go change. I'll be right back.” You leave the kitchen even faster than Cassian did, not letting Azriel get any word in.
He leans back against his chair, throwing his head back and letting out a sigh. So much happened in so little time, he was having trouble even wrapping his mind around the whole situation. He can't tell if you ran back so fast because you were still embarrassed or if you're simply not ready to have this conversation. You've been getting better lately, no longer stressing so much about school and coming to terms with the fact that your best friend hurt you so much, but that doesn't mean you're ready for a relationship, especially if it could come with the possibility of losing a friend if it ended up not working out. Azriel wasn't in a rush for anything either, things between the two of you are perfect.
Still, he hopes you hadn't taken his silence earlier as him ignoring your feelings or pretending things are completely platonic between you. Even worse, he really doesn't know what to do if that look on your face wasn't only embarrassment but also disappointment. The last thing Azriel wants to happen is you thinking that he doesn't have any intention of acting on his feelings or that he's been playing around with yours.
“Azriel?” Your voice startles him out of his thoughts. He hadn't even realized you had walked back into the kitchen, covered in your own clothes this time. He gets up and sets his bowl in the sink next to yours, turning to face you.
“Sorry I was distracted.”
“That's okay, maybe you still need more rest. I was just saying I put the clothes I was wearing in the laundry basket in your room. I didn't have the chance to ask you last night but I hope you don't mind.” You sounded more like your usual self now, maybe had enough time to gather your thoughts when you were changing, but there was still an edge to your voice. It felt like you were putting on your polite voice with him, he really didn't like this.
“Anything of mine is yours, princess.” A bashful look falls over your face sending relief rushing through his body. This is the type of reaction he's used to, still he can't help but want to reassure you somehow.
Azriel grabs your hand before he has the chance to change his mind, though as you look up at him questioningly he knows he's doing the right thing. “You don't have to worry about Cassian or anyone else. We're going at our own pace and anything that happens between us is none of their business.”
You blink up at him for another few seconds, a look of understanding falling onto your face. “I wasn't worried,” you smile softly. It seems he was the one who needed the reassurance after all.
“Alright,” he squeezes your hand, his eyes dropping momentarily to your lips as is the usual these days. “Thank you for last night. You didn't even have to meet up with me, let alone babysit me all night.”
“You know you don't have to thank me for anything, Az.” You look down at his hand in yours, smile turning a bit shy. When you look up at him again, you reach up on your toes and press a soft kiss on his cheek, effectively taking his breath away. “I have to go now, but I'll call you later.” As soon as you drop his hand and move away from him, all he can think is how much he wants to pull you back into him.
taglist: @bookishbroadwaybish @sad-anxious-muffin @mika-no-sekai-blog @starwholistenanddreamsanswered @secretlyhers @evergreenlark @vermillionwinter @anuttellaa @lilah-asteria @tinymarklee @lupinswolfsbanes @therealmoonstone @rose-sinclaire23
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x y/n#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel fic#acotar fanfiction#acotar x reader#azriel fluff
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charles x reader, him surprising you by coming home from a race early and picking you up from work! maybe gets flowers or something ❤️❤️
Flowers and Surprises
Paring: Charles Leclerc x reader
Word count: 0.5k
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
It wasn’t uncommon to see you walking the two blocks it takes to get to the bus stop outside of your work building before and after hours on your way home.
Despite having a husband in formula one and more transportation options at home then you know what to do with, you always for some reason opt for taking the bus to and from work.
Whenever Charles brings it up, you claim to simply enjoy it and you don’t have to get stuck driving in traffic.
Today was like the rest. You bid your coworkers a farewell before exiting your building, not necessarily paying attention to your surroundings as you glanced down at your bag, trying to adjust the files that you had to bring home.
One of them was stuck, so you were trying to shove it in without ruining any of the papers.
You didn’t bother looking up until you heard the sound of someone clearing their throat.
When your eyes flickered up, it took a moment for you to process what you were seeing, but when you did, you froze in your steps, your breath catching in the back of your throat.
Before you was Charles, leaning against his Ferrari, a lopsided smile on his face full of pure joy and adoration. In one hand was a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and in the other was a box of your favorite candies.
Your husband wasn’t supposed to be home for another week and you hadn’t seen him in two more due to the sheer busyness of race season. But there he stood, before you, eyes full of such love that it physically made your heart skip a beat.
Files long forgotten, you snapped out of whatever mini trance you had been in and you lurched forward, immediately wrapping your arms around Charles’s neck and burying your face in his shoulder.
The grin on his face only brightened as he skillfully caught you, being sure to be careful of the gifts in his grasp as he held you close, resting his head on top of yours after placing a soft kiss on it.
“I didn’t think you were getting home for another week,” You muttered against his shirt.
“I thought I’d surprise you,” Came the man’s reply, “Would you say you’re surprised, mon cheri?” He teased lightly.
“Very,” You hummed, finally pulling your face back slightly so you could smile up at him gently.
With a soft smile of his own, Charles captured his lips in yours, allowing the moment of pure tenderness and warmth to last.
“I missed you so much,” He murmured when you finally pulled away.
“Likewise,” You smiled before glancing at the possessions in his hand, “All for little old me?” You gasped mockingly.
“But of course,” He smiled before handing them to you and opening the passenger door of his car behind him, “Now let’s get home.”
You quickly pecked his lips before slipping into the seat, heart full and love blooming.
#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1
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between us (3) // a.putellas x reader x j.hermoso
a.putellas x reader x j.hermoso
part one part two
-
you were walking onto the pitch, a few paces behind alexia and jenni when someone jumped on your back. you yelped and stumbled forward, gracefully falling face first onto the grass. the only people who reacted were the younger girls—who weren’t yet used to your clumsiness—and ingrid—who was quick to yank mapi off you and hold out her hand.
she helped you up and you quickly kicked mapi’s ankle before running away from her, laughter falling from your lips as she gave chase. she eventually caught you and wrapped her arms around your waist, swinging you around as ingrid walked over.
“maría please put her down, we have camps soon and i don’t want her to go back to england injured.”
mapi rolled her eyes and lowered you to the ground but her grip never relented. “oh how will we survive without you for months? how will jenni and alexia?”
you squirmed in her grip, not liking the thoughts her words put in your head. she let you go and you scampered off to stand nearer pina and patri but far enough away that you could get lost in your head without interruption.
a frown unconsciously appeared on your face. you worked out the dates in your head and felt your shoulders sag. after flying to england with lucy and keira, it could be two months before you’d see your girlfriends in person again—depending on how well england and spain did in the tournament. and they’d see each other everyday.
what would that mean for your relationship? what if the time they’d have alone made them realise that they preferred their relationship the way it was before you came along?
part of you knew that you were being silly but it was an insecurity you’d been secretly harbouring since the beginning of your relationship, always worrying that one day they’d wake up and decide that it was too crowded.
would you even have girlfriends when you got back from england?
a soft slap to the back of your head brought you back to earth and you looked up to see a slightly concerned alexia already looking down at you. “estás bien?”
“yes,” you nodded, clearing your throat and giving her a small smile. “fine.”
it was clear that she didn’t believe you but she didn’t push. and when the first paired activity of training finally came around, you watched jenni and alexia pair up. with a quiet sigh, you made your way over to leila, thankful that she didn’t already have a partner.
when the second paired activity was called out, you were surprised to see alexia head over to mapi. with a quick glance at jenni, you took the opportunity to jump onto ingrid, missing the way jenni frowned.
“you okay?” ingrid asked you, having noticed your subdued behaviour since your interaction with mapi.
“i’m good.”
you knew that ingrid would have a good inkling as to how you were feeling, she went through it with mapi but it wasn’t the same really. they only had each other. there was no third party to worry about in their relationship.
so you didn’t confide in her like you wanted to. instead you decided to grin and bear it for the rest of the training session.
your girlfriends knew something was wrong with you with the way you avoided their gazes and ducked away when one of them began approaching. but you were great at avoiding people. and you had successfully managed to avoid your girlfriends until jenni caught you—literally.
“amorcito, where are you going?” she asked, the grip around your waist tightening as you tried to wriggle out.
“uh, home.”
“without us?”
you wriggled again. “i’m going out with pina and patri, need’ta go home and get ready.”
technically you weren’t lying. the pair had invited you out, you just hadn’t officially accepted yet, throwing a maybe in their direction when they first asked just before training started.
jenni’s grip loosened and normally you would’ve asked her what was wrong but you took advantage of the opportunity and bolted, throwing yourself onto an unsuspecting patri as you disappeared around the corner.
“i told you,” alexia sang out as jenni turned to look at her. “she is avoiding us, she is not going to tell you anything.”
a rushed hiss caught their attention and they saw ingrid pushing a terrified looking mapi forward. “i think it might be my fault.”
“ay dios mío, what did you do?”
ᡣ𐭩
you entered the apartment later that night, immediately hearing noise from the tv. you kicked off your heels and made your way towards the living room. your body froze as you saw alexia and jenni cuddled up on the sofa.
you were torn.
on the one hand—after a few drinks—all you had been thinking about most of the night was going home to your girlfriends but seeing them like that brought the feelings from training back and you found yourself not knowing what to do.
“hola, amor,” alexia said as you finally walked in. she turned to look at you, resting her chin on jenni’s shoulder. “how was dinner?”
“it was good,” you smiled slightly. “but i’m really tired so i’m gonna go to bed. enjoy the movie.”
with that, you scampered into the bedroom and away from the curious eyes of your girlfriends. you took off your makeup and slipped into a random hoodie you found, quickly dropping onto the bed.
you weren’t lying to alexia. you were tired. but you’d much rather have been cuddled up between your girlfriends than laying in bed alone.
when alexia entered the bedroom, she was genuinely surprised to find you curled up, fast asleep. she frowned and sat next to you, placing her hand on your forehead. you had just come back from an evening with pina and patri. usually that left you full of energy and your girlfriends would have the relentless task of wrangling you into bed so for you to willingly be doing the complete opposite was a bit worrying.
“well you are not sick,” she sighed, brushing her hand over your hair. you squirmed a little, eyes fluttering open. “hola mi vida.”
your face scrunched up and you murmured something unintelligible, reaching up to move her hand onto your face.
“bebita, i need you to stay awake, we need to talk,” she pulled herself away, ignoring your whine and the way you reached for her again. she watched the frown form on your face but you quickly turned away. “bebé, we talked to mapi. we know what she said. why did it make you so sad?”
it was a simple question. had you not been tired and a little tipsy, you would’ve brushed her off and gone back to sleep. but your feelings weren’t simple and you were crying before you could stop yourself.
alexia was quick to pull you up, holding you tight against her chest as your body trembled. she rocked you from side to side, rubbing your back soothingly until your sobs turned into shaky breaths.
“don’t want you to leave me ale.” you whispered, fisting her hoodie in your hands.
“it is not for long,” she whispered back. “we will be together—“
“no, no. leave leave! i don’t want you to leave me.”
before alexia could respond, you were swiftly pulled into jenni’s arms as she placed herself onto the bed. “mi amor why would we leave you?”
“because you were together before me and you’re going to be together all the time at camp, i don’t want you to realise that you love each other more than you love me. i’m going to be alone and you’ll have each other just like before. what if—what if you get used to it again and you don’t want me here anymore?”
neither jenni or alexia could remember the last time they’d seen you look so small and vulnerable. maybe it was your first time at the barcelona training grounds where you’d glued yourself to keira and lucy. maybe it was at the most recent champions league final where you shoved your silver medal into jenni’s bag so you wouldn’t have to look at it anymore.
“cariño that would never happen,” alexia brought her hand up to push your hair away from your face. “we love you too much for that to happen.”
you sniffled, looking between them. “promise?”
“nosotras prometemos.”
whilst you still weren’t completely convinced, there was still a warm feeling in your heart and when jenni laid you down and you ended up in your favourite place—tangled between them—you knew that you’d be alright.
#woso imagine#woso fanfics#woso x reader#woso#alexia putellas#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas imagine#jenni hermoso#jenni hermoso x reader#jenni hermoso imagine
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Meet Me Behind The Mall
Pairing: shy!Peter Parker x popular!Reader
Synopsis: after getting ditched by your friends, you spend a day with Peter in the mall, who’s secret you recently figured out
Masterlist
In his peripheral vision, Peter could see a tiny piece of paper being pushed onto his side of the lab table. He curiously looked at it, then up at you. You nodded your head towards the note so Peter unfolded it.
“What’s the answer to number 7?” The note read. Peter glanced up at the professor before scribbling down the answer and passing the note back to you. You read his response and circled the correct answer. A few seconds passed when another note was passed across the table. Peter picked it up and opened it to reveal three hearts drawn around the words “thank u!”. Peter felt his face flush and looked over at you again. You gave him a thumbs up before going up to hand in your test.
After class, you caught up with Peter in the hallway and put your hand on his shoulder to stop him.
“Thank you so much for helping me in there. I counted up all the answers I was confident I got right and it wasn’t enough to get a pass. I just don’t get this unit.”
“You’re welcome.” Was all Peter could say. He thought about offering to tutor you or telling you he also struggled with the topic, but he felt too shy to get anything more out than a cordial response.
“I bet you did really well. You always do. God, I wish I was as good at science as you are. It’s just never come naturally to me. How do you always know the answer?” You asked him as you continued to walk together.
“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugged and immediately scrunched his face in embarrassment. He wished he could be better at conversing with you, especially since you were always so nice to him. He saw a pack of your friends coming down the hallway and they waved you over, putting your conversation out of it’s misery.
“Bye, Peter. I’ll see you next class. Have a good weekend.” You waved to him as you ran to catch up with your large group of friends. He knew he should return the sentiment but instead stayed silent and gave you a pathetic wave back.
That night, the cheap alcohol of the frat party didn’t sit well with you so you headed home early. You were a pretty far walk from your dorm but felt too nauseas to get into a car. Instead, you started walking home and let the cold New York air calm you down.
“Where are you going, gorgeous?”
You felt panic drop in your stomach at the sound of a man’s voice somewhere in the darkness but kept walking to your dorm. The sound of footsteps behind you picked up behind you so you quickened your pace. You could still hear music coming from the party you had left so you knew people were nearby if worst came to worst.
“Hey. I’m talking to you. Where are you going?”The man asked as he caught up to you and walked beside you. You ignored him and tugged your jacket tighter around your body. He suddenly took you by the elbow and you froze in fear.
“Come on. Don’t be rude. Just give me a smile and I’ll leave you alone.” The man said with a sickening smile as he tried to get you to look at him.
“Please. I’ll give you whatever you want from my bag. Just leave me alone.” You pleaded and moved away from him. He snatched your purse from your hands and started to rummage through it.
“What the hell is this? This is just full of receipts.” He grimaced in disgust and pulled out a handful of crumbled receipts.
“I don’t want to throw them out in case I need to return something one day.” You said meekly.
“Do you even have a wallet? All I’m finding is lip gloss.” The man said as he picked up five different lip products from the bottom of your bag.
“Oh, I’m sorry you didn’t find a better person to rob.” You scoffed sarcastically. The man looked up at you with a primal look in his eyes.
“Oh, you think you’re funny? I don’t like girls who think they’re funny.” He said and gripped your elbow again. You tried to pull away but he was too strong. Before you could tell him to let to, Spiderman dropped down next to you. You cracked a smile at the sight of him and let out a sigh of relief.
“Sir, I hate to be the one to tell you this but that purse does not to with that outfit.” Peter sassed and moved his hands in dramatic exasperation.
“Huh?” The guy said and let go of you.
“Now, you better not have left a bruise on this lovely lady’s elbows or you and I are gonna have a serious problem.” Peter warned as he shot a web at the guys pants. He yanked them down and the man’s jeans fell to his ankles.
“Hm. I did not peg you for a boxers guy. Your whole vibe screams “Fruit of the Loom” tighty whities. Yet now I stand corrected.” Peter said as he tilted his head to the side. You covered your mouth and let out a laugh, making the man grow angry. He went to lunge at Peter but tripped over his dropped pants.
“Uh oh. Someone’s angry. Maybe your whities are a little too tighty.” Peter commented as he pinched his fingers together. You laughed again as Peter shot a web at your purse.
“I’ll take that.” He quipped and yanked the purse out of the man’s hands.
“Thank you!” Peter said politely as he caught your purse.
“Hey!” The man shouted.
“Hey?” Peter laughed. “You’re yelling at me like it’s yours.”
The man tried to lunge at Peter again and ended up falling flat on his face. Peter took that as his cue to wrap an arm around you and pick you up to swing you to safety. He landed a few blocks away and carefully put you down. You stared at him through the mask as he put you down, your faces just inches apart. Peter gulped and felt his entire face go red beneath the mask.
“Thank you, Spiderman.” You smiled softly at him as you slowly withdrew your arm from around his neck.
“You’re very welcome, miss. I believe this belongs to you.” He said as he put your purse back into your hands. Your eyebrows knit together suddenly in confusion and you let out a short laugh.
“Wait, Peter?” You asked, making Peter’s heart drop.
“Uh, what?” He gulped. “Who’s that? I’m your friendly neighbor Spiderman.”
“Right. Sorry. You sound just like this guy in my chemistry class.” You laughed and shook your head. Peter felt his blush spread all the way to his ears over you recognizing the sound of his voice. You ran in different circles at school, you being apart of the popular group of girls and him belonging to a small group of local nerds. That being said, your ever present kindness towards him left him to develop a small crush on you.
“Oh. Well, that’s not me. But he sounds really handsome.” Peter replied, making you laugh again.
“He is.” You nodded without an ounce of sarcasm in your voice. This piked his curiosity and he leaned in a little.
“He is?” He asked.
“Oh, yeah. Absolutely.” You nodded. “In a hot nerd kind of way. Like Spencer Reid. But kinda short. Which I’m not sure why I’m telling you now that I hear myself.”
“It’s okay. I like that show too.” He chuckled shyly. “He sounds really cool.”
“He is really cool. At least, I think he is. But I’m not really sure. Everytime I try to talk to him, he looks away.” You sighed like you were disappointed. Peter realized you were a little drunk and probably didn’t know what you were saying. Even if that was the case, it was still nice to hear.
“Maybe he’s just shy. And doesn’t know how to look pretty girls in the eye.” Peter said as he kicked a rock around with his foot.
“That’s a shame.” You smiled sadly. “Because I think he and I could be friends if he ever learned to look at me.”
Peter stopped messing with the rock and looked up at you. There was a smallness to you tonight that shone through your party dress and heavy makeup. Your typically bright hand bubbly demeanor was cloudy by something you weren’t telling him.
“Maybe he’ll start.” He told you.
“I hope so.“ You answered honestly. “He seems nice. I could use a friend like him.”
Standing under that streetlight, Peter noticed a sadness to you for the first time. You were usually in a circle of friends all wearing smiles but right now, you seemed completely alone down to your bones.
“So how was your night?” He asked in a quiet voice. You stared off into the distance as your eyes brimmed with tears suddenly.
“Do you ever feel completely alone despite being in a room full of people you know?” You asked him.
“I do, actually. All the time.” He answered. You looked at him and smiled sadly.
“Do really, Spiderman?” You asked with hope in your voice. It wasn’t that you wanted him to feel alone. You just wanted to know you weren’t the only one who felt that way.
“I do. Is that how you felt tonight?”
“I don’t know. I guess. Sometimes I make jokes and my friends all look at each other. And they all make this face as if they’re thinking the same thing. And what they’re thinking is that I’m a freakish alien who they’re embarrassed to know. That’s how I felt tonight.”
“Well that’s no fun. And you’re not a freakish alien. You’re very funny.”
“And you know that because you’re the cute guy in my chemistry class?” You asked with a hopeful smile.
“I’m not him. I’m just guessing that you’re funny. So maybe you are an alien. I don’t know. This is our first time meeting.”
“Right.” You rolled your eyes. “So how do you think you did on the last test? I actually feel pretty confident.”
“I don’t know because I didn’t take any test because I’m not the guy in your chemistry class. Now can I walk you home? It’s freezing out here and I have no jacket to offer you.”
“Sure, thanks. I’m this way.” You said and pointed in the direction of your dorm. Peter placed a hand on the small of your back and guided you towards your dorm.
“You should get a friend to walk with you next time you leave a party. It’s not safe to be out here by yourself. Especially with guys like that going around snatching purses.”
“I know. I asked my friends but they weren’t ready to leave yet.” You shrugged.
“And they let you walk home alone? Drunk? Sounds like you need some new friends.” Peter joked but you nodded in agreement.
“I know. But you know how friends can be. They still wanted to party. Why should I be their problem?” You shrugged again, making Peter frown.
“It’s not a problem to look out for you.” He said simply.
“That’s easy for you to say. You look out for everyone. It’s your job.” You reminded him.
“I’m not just saying that because of my job. It wouldn’t be a burden to take care of you no matter who I was.” Peter replied, making you stop walking. He looked at you and you looked that you had been waiting your whole life to hear what he had just said.
“Thank you.” You said with a fond smile.
“You’re very welcome.” Peter replied in an equally soft voice. You kept walking in comfortable silence until you reached the girls dorm.
“This is my dorm.” You told him. Thanks again for walking me home. And getting my purse back for me.”
“Anytime.”He nodded. “I just hope it doesn’t happen again. But if it did, you know.”
“You’d be here.” You finished his sentence.
“Exactly.” He smiled. “You can count on it.”
You couldn’t see the smile under his mask but you knew it was there. You held up your purse to show him that you had it before walking up a few of your dorm steps.
“See you at school?” You asked him.
“Don’t think so.” Peter chuckled. You squinted your eyes as if you didn’t believe him but eventually shrugged.
“That’s too bad. Good night.” You waved to him and walked the rest of the way up the stairs.
“Good night.” He called after you.
Once Monday came, you were determined to talk to Peter. You didn’t have chemistry that day so you’d have to find him elsewhere on campus. You knew he usually hung out in the library so you went there to check. Sure enough, he was at a table with his friends Ned and Miles.
“Hey, Peter.” You greeted as you walked up to him.
“H-hi.” He stammered. “What are you? I mean, how are you up? I mean, how are you? What’s up?”
“There we go.” Ned nodded. “I knew he’d get there eventually.”
“I’m good.” You replied. “How are you doing?”
“Ooo. Is this your girlfriend from chemistry class?” Miles asked as his raised his eyebrows suggestively.
“Is that what you told them?” You smiled in surprise as you looked at Peter.
“No. I didn’t. I swear.“ He assured you as his entire face went red.
“He did show us the note you gave him.” Ned told you.
“Oh yeah. Three hearts. I didn’t realize you guys were so serious.” Miles teased Peter as he gave his friends a look that begged them to stop.
“I never said she was my girlfriend.” Peter whispered harshly to them. You could tell he was getting embarrassed so you played along to save him. You frowned and ran your fingers through his hair before letting your hand rest on his cheek.
“What? You didn’t tell them about us, baby?” You asked and titled your head to the side. Miles and Ned’s made surprised faces as Peters entire face went red.
“W-what?” Peter sputtered out.
“I’m messing with you.” You smiled. “But I do need to talk to you.”
“Oh, uh, okay. Sure.” Peter said and moved his bag so you could sit down. You looked at Miles and Ned and smiled timidly.
“Privately.” You clarified. Miles and Ned “oooo”ed as you walked away from their table and went into the hall.
“Dude, follow her.” Ned told him and pushed Peter up from the table. Peter nervously fixed his hair and got up to follow you.
“What’s up?” He asked once you were alone. You looked around to see who was watching before stepping closer to him.
“I just wanted to thank for getting my purse back for me. It’s my favorite bag. And my favorite lip combo was in there. You really saved me.” You said and squeezed his arm in appreciation.
“Oh, you’re welcome. Anytime.” Peter said waved his hand like it was no big deal. Your lips curved into a wicked smile and Peter realized his mistake.
“Shit.” He whispered as you jumped up and down and clapped your hands.
“I knew it!” You whispered. “I knew that was your voice!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said quickly.
“Yes you do.” You grinned and poked him in the chest.
“I really don’t.” He shrugged but he knew he was caught.
“Then why are you so flustered right now?” You folded your arms to ask him. Peter touched his burning cheek and debated telling you his face always did that around you.
“I’m not.” He lied.
“Your face is hot.” You pointed out as you touched a cold hand to his cheek.
“Psht. Your face is hot.” He scoffed and pushed your hand away.
“Thank you.” You said pointedly. “But you and I both know that I figured out your little secret. There’s no point in denying it now.”
“I don’t have any secrets. So you don’t know anything.”
“Come on, Peter.” You whined. “I’ve been waiting all weekend to tell you that I know. I wanted to text you but I don’t have your number and I couldn’t find you on Instagram. You have one, don’t you?”
“I’m not on social media.” He told you.
“Okay. That’s serial killer behavior but I’m willing to look past it if you confirm my suspicions.” You said and excitedly drummed your fingers on your chin.
“I’m not Spiderman. So I cannot confirm your suspicions.” He whispered for only you to hear. You smirked a little before shrugging.
“I guess you can’t.” You sighed. “It’s weird though, right?”
“What’s weird?” He wondered.
“That I never said you were Spiderman. I just thanked you for getting my purse.” You said with a coy smile. Peter hung his head in shame as he confirmed to you for the second time that he was in fact Spiderman.
“I knew it! I knew it was you. I even recognized the way you walk.” You said proudly.
“What do you know about the way I walk?” He asked with a shy smile.
“You walk really stiff like you’re holding two invisible briefcases.” You explained and demonstrated for him with a near perfect imitation of how he walked.
“What? No I don’t. Oh wait. Yeah, I kinda do.” He realized as he watched you.
“You definitely do. Now can you please just tell me I’m right? I’ve been thinking about it all weekend. I need to hear you tell me I was right.” You begged him as you put your hands on his shoulders. Peter playfully rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and sighed.
“You right.” He mumbled.
“Yes! I knew I was right!” You cheered. “Everything makes sense now. That’s why you’re always disappearing or yawning or bruised. You’re probably up every night getting girls purses, aren’t you?”
“Not always purses.” He instead. “Sometimes it’s bikes. And one time, a mean chihuahua.”
“Wow.” You said with genuine amazement. “So how long have you been doing this?”
“Since I was 15.”
“15? Damn. I was exhausted from working 4 hours a week at Kohl’s at 15. How do you do it? You must be so tired.” You frowned and rubbed his arm kindly.
“It’s tiring but someone has to do it.” He shrugged. “Just like someone has to hand out Kohl’s cash.”
“Thats true.” You chuckled. “And that’s a very selfless way to look at it.”
“Oh. Thank you.” He smiled shyly. “But please, you can’t tell anyone about this. Nobody else knows.”
“Duh.” You replied. “This is our secret.”
“Yeah. Ours.” He smiled and felt his face heat up at the mention of something belonging to only the two of you. Your moment was cut short by one of your friends coming up to you and completely disregarding Peter.
“Hey, girl. I need your notes from class today.” She said to you.
“Oh, sure. How come you weren’t there?” You asked her.
“Liz and I went got coffee instead.” She replied. Peter could tell you were hurt they didn’t ask you to come get coffee but you just smiled and nodded.
“I’ll text them to you.” You told her.
“Thanks. Let’s go to the library. I need you to look at my English paper and tell me if it’s good.” She said and nodded towards the library. You looked at Peter and gave him an apologetic smile.
“Bye, Peter. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” You told him before leaving with your friend.
“Why were you talking to that lesbian?” Your friend asked you as you walked away.
“That wasn’t a lesbian. That was my friend Peter.” He heard you tell her before going into the library. He watched you disappear and let out a little sigh. He knew he was going to over analyze that entire conversation for probably the rest of his life, or at least until the next time you spoke.
That weekend, Peter headed to the mall a few blocks from campus to do some wandering by himself since Ned was busying. He did a little shopping before taking a seat on the mall fountain to check his texts. He was so engrossed in his phone that he didn’t notice you walk up to him.
“Well, well, well.” You chuckled, making him look up at you and blush.
“It’s a fountain, actually.” Peter deadpanned, making you crack a smile.
“You’re stupid. Move over.” You laughed and sat beside him. Your knees were touching which made Peters face warm up the way it always seemed to around you.
“Should I be worried? I’m starting to think you might be stalking me.” He teased you.
“Excuse me? I was just walking around and saw you. You’re the one who keeps ending up placed I’m already in.”
“Sounds like something a stalker would say.” He said out of the corner of his mouth.
“You wish I was your stalker. Now come on, give me the haul. What did you buy?” You asked him and nodded towards his bag.
“Socks and boxers.” He smiled proudly and held up his items.
“Oh shit. You did not come to play.”
“I really didn’t.” He played along, making you laugh again. You stared at him for a minute with a fond smile and he stared back with a matching one.
“What?” He wondered.
“You’re talking to me.”
“So?” He laughed shyly. “You’re talking to me.”
“No, I mean, like. Full eye contact. And full sentences. Who is this man? I’ve been waiting to meet him forever.” You teased him and he playfully rolled his eyes.
“I guess it’s easier to talk to you now that you know my secret. You’re not as scary anymore.”
“I was scary before?” You gasped and pretended to be offended.
“Yes. Girls like you are very terrifying to me.”
“Girls like me?” You smiled coyly.
“Pretty girls who are nice to me. I really wish you were a giant snake or the multi-bear from Gravity Falls or something. That’s way less scary.” He insisted.
“You’d rather talk to the multi-bear than me?”You scoffed. “I have half a mind to forget about you and go stalk some other guy.”
“No, please. Stay. I forgot how awkward it is to shop alone and I still need to get a belt.” He pretended to beg and put a hand on your leg to get you to stay. You looked at the hand on your leg and cracked a smile at the unexpected contact from him.
“Well I would never abandon a man on a belt quest.” You replied, making him laugh.
“Thank you. What about you? What are you looking for?”
He could have said “shopping for” but that’s not what he meant. He wanted to know what you were looking for. You cracked a smile as if you understood what he was asking.
“Better friends, actually. Have you seen any?” You asked with a playful but sad smile.
“I just saw your friends in H&M.” He told you and pointed to the store. You shrugged a little and shook your head.
“Yeah. I saw them too. After they all told me they were busy today and couldn’t hang out.” You admitted without looking at him. Peter frowned and moved closer to you.
“They came here without you?”
“I asked them to hang out. They all said they couldn’t. But now I’m getting a sneaking suspicion there’s a second group chat that I’m not in.” You laughed but he knew it was fake.
“I’m sorry.” He said quietly.
“I came here to cheer myself up and ended up feeling 200 times worse when I saw them all hanging out without me. I didn’t even say anything to them because I didn’t want them to feel bad for not inviting me. Not that they ever care when they make me feel bad.” You laughed again but it ended up in a sigh. You stared at your shoes for a second and Peter stayed silent.
“Girls suck.” You said after a beat. “Not always, of course, but when they suck, they really suck. They know how painful it can be to be the only one left out. But they still did it to me. I don’t understand why.”
“Neither do I. I thought those girls were your friends?”
“I don’t know. I kinda saw this coming.” You admitted. “I started to notice that I was always the one texting first. And always the one trying to make plans. And when they did text me, they were asking me for something. It was never just to check in on me.”
“That’s really hurtful. I’m sorry. I’ve been there too. It sucks when you realize that if you stopped reaching out to someone, you’d probably never speak again.” Peter replied, making you smile sadly at him.
“Exactly. Or when you wonder how long it would take them to notice if you stopped reaching out. And worse, wonder if they’d notice at all.”
“No one deserves to feel that way. Especially not someone as kind and considerate as you. You really do need new friends.” He nodded in agreement, making you genuinely laugh this time.
“We’re friends, right? Because I know your secret.”
“We can be friends.” Peter nodded, bringing a smile out of you.
“Thanks.” You told him and gave his shoulder a rub. Peter felt a sudden burst of confidence and decided to keep the momentum he had built.
“You’re probably gonna say no to this, but Ned and I were gonna get sandwiches and then build legos together tomorrow. You can come, if you’d like.”
“That’s okay. You don’t have to give me a pity invite to your sandwich and Lego party.” You told him.
“It’s not a pity invite. I want you to be there. It would make me happy to have you around.” Peter answered, making you smile once again. It was the simple change from “you can come” to “I wanted you to be there” that made all the difference.
“Do you want to hang out with me today?” You asked him.
“Yeah. I do.” He said immediately. You stood up and held out your hand for him to take.
“Come on. Let’s go look at the home decor.”
Peter took your hand and let you pull him towards the home decor store in the mall. He awkwardly ran ahead of you so that he could open the door for you but it was worth it when he saw you smiling.
“Thank you.” You said curtly and walked inside. He followed you around the store like a puppy dog and listened to your commentary on the various throw pillows and wall art as if it was words from a prophet.
“This would be perfect for you.” You gasped and held up an old Halloween pillow that had a sequenced spiderweb on it along with a spider made up of mostly fallen off beads.
“Is my job a joke to you?” He laughed and flicked the pillow.
“I mean, I did see some funny videos of you online. How often do you miss your webs and fall into bushes?”
“Bushes are rare, actually. It’s usually car hoods and hot dog stands.” He admitted.
“Ouch.” You grimaced. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“No. Hot dog stands are really soft.” He said seriously. You laughed and kept walking down the aisles of the store.
“I love that I’m the only one that knows this about you.” You told him.
“You really do, don’t you?” He realized with an amused smile.
“Well, yeah. I always knew there was something about you and learning this vindicated me so hard.”
“Something about me? What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. You’re so allusive.” You shrugged. “Always disappearing and reappearing from places. Not on any sports teams but will never miss when throwing something into the trash from across the room. Knows all the answers in chemistry but never raises his hand. Ripped but hides it under Catholic school boy sweaters. I always wondered about you. Now I know.”
“Wow. You pick up on a lot of details. Nobody’s ever really noticed me like that.” Peter said as he looked at the ground so you wouldn’t see how flustered that made him.
“That you know of.” You corrected. “Because I noticed you a long time ago and you had no idea until now.”
“I notice you too.” He said as he looked into your eyes. You smiled at the eye contact and stayed looking at him.
“So, uh, were you just messing with me when you told Spiderman that you thought I was, you know.”
“A hot nerd?”
“Yeah. That.” He laughed shyly.
“I wasn’t messing with you.” You shrugged. “Or him. Either of you. I meant what I said.”
“So did I. I really don’t know how to talk to pretty girls.”
“We’re just regular people. Aside from our razor sharp teeth and detachable feet.”
“Why would you need to detach your feet?” He laughed.
“I don’t know but I used to have these dolls when I was younger where you’d yank their whole foot off to change their shoes. And they’d just have a little nub until you put new feet on them. God forbid you lose one of their shoes. Then they have no feet and had to walk around my dollhouse with nubs”.
“To be a woman is to perform.” He nodded along.
“Shut up.” You laughed and kept walking down the aisles of the store. You ended up buy some statue of an animal that you mentioned your mom liked to collect and Peter carried your bag for you into the next store.
“So who else knows about this secret? Besides us two.” You asked as you flipped through a clothing rack.
“My best friend. But that’s because he accidentally walked in on me in my suit. And my aunt. Who found out in the exact same way.”
“Sounds like you need to invest in a giant trench coat to cover yourself with when entering and exiting your room.” You told him.
“That’s a really good idea, actually. Do you think they sell those here?” He asked, making you laugh.
“So I was the first to figure it out?”
“You were. And now I’m really hoping it’s not obvious.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s obvious. I’m just very observant.”
“Of everything or just me?” He asked you.
“Just you.” You teased, making him blush again.
“What else have you observed about me?” He wondered.
“A few things, actually. You keep flexing your hand and I’m starting to think you’re working up the nerve to hold mine. That or you’re fighting the urge to punch me so I’m hoping it’s the former. I also observed that you haven’t checked your phone once since I found you and you’re letting me pick all the stores we go into.”
“Wow. And what do your observations tell you?”
“That you like me.” You said simply and continued looking at the clothes.
“What?” Peter sputtered. “No I don’t.”
“Says the boy who got my purse back from a burglar. Classic crush culture right there.” You clicked your tongue and shook your head.
“What?” He laughed. “That is not what I do when I have a crush on a girl. That’s just my job.”
“All right then. So what do you do when you have a crush?”
“Avoid eye contact and hope she likes shy tendencies. And open doors for her, obviously.” Peter said as he opened the door for you into the next store.
“Good to know.” You said and gave him a pleased smile as you passed him. He continued to follow you down the aisles of the store while holding your collection of clothes you wanted to try on.
“So why spiders? I’ve always wondered why you named yourself after arguably the worst bug of all time. Why not something more palatable like Lady Bug Man? Or Moth Man and then you could live under a bridge and spook people?” You asked as you handed him another dress for you to try on.
“It was a spider bite that gave me the abilities, actually. That’s where I got the name.” He explained as you disappeared behind a changing room curtain. You opened it up after a few seconds in one of the dresses you had taken off the rack.
“Really? I never would’ve guessed that. I’m learning so much right now.” You said as you turned around and moved your hair away from your neck. Peter blushed and picked up what you were implying and zipped the dress for you. You turned back around and gave him a grateful smile.
“What else do you want to know?” He asked with a shy smile. He usually categorized himself as shy and never wanting to be the center of attention, but right now he was hoping you had more questions to ask him. He liked being the center of attention when it was your attention he was getting.
“Why red and blue?” You wondered.
“Red for my mom’s red hair and blue for the car my dad drove.” Peter said out loud for the first time.
“Aw, Peter.” You pouted. “That’s really beautiful. I love that.”
“Thank you. I never told anybody that before.” He admitted.
“Hm. Something else just between us, then.” You winked at him before shutting the dressing room curtain again.
When you left that store, Peter opened the door for you on the way out with his free hand and held your bags with his other hand. As you walked through the mall, yours hands kept bumping against each others. It happened so many times in a row that Peter was starting to think he was doing it on purpose.
“You can, you know. If you want to.” You said without looking at him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Peter lied as your hands bumped once again.
“Okay. Never mind, then.” You replied and kept walking. Peter decided to do something for once and took your hand. You didn’t say anything but smirked and gave his hand a squeeze. You stayed holding hands as you went to a few more stores and ended up back by the fountain. Through the streams of water, you suddenly spotted the very group of friends that had left you out.
“Oh God. It’s them.” You gasped and stopped short. Peter thought you were going to drop his hand but you didn’t.
“What are you gonna do?” He asked. “I can stick to the wall if that at all helps.”
“Well I’m definitely gonna need to see that at some point but not right now. I need to hide.” You decided and looked around for the nearest exit. During your search, you heard the sound of your friends laughing and it made your stomach drop. You didn’t want to run away anymore and pretend that the things they did didn’t hurt you. They did. And it was time they knew that.
“Actually, no.” You decided. “Why should I hide to make them more comfortable? They did something mean to me. I shouldn’t run away just so they don’t have to face what they did. I should go talk to them.”
“Let’s do it.” Peter agreed and you smiled. You blew out a nervous breath before walking up to the group of girls.
“Hey guys! So glad your schedules freed up.” You greeted them with a friendly smile. They all froze and either looked down at the ground or at you with stunned expressions. You took your time looking at every one of their guilty faces with an unamused expression.
“We were gonna text you.” Liz said quickly.
“Don’t even worry about it.” You told her. “In fact, don’t text me ever again. I deserve friends who include me. Not people who keep me around just in case they need something from me.”
“So what? You’re gonna ditch us to hang out with losers?” Liz scoffed and looked at Peter. You felt bad that Peter had caught a stray but he wasn’t phased.
“You’re the ones who just lost a good friend. And missed out on a fun day at the mall with the coolest girl in New York. So I’m pretty sure that makes you guys the losers.” Peter stated. Everyone, including you, was shocked to hear those words out of the notoriously shy Peter’s mouth. You looked at him and gave him a grateful smile.
“Yeah.” You agreed. “You guys are losers. You all say bad things about each other behind each other’s back and I’m sure you did the same to me so I can’t say I’m gonna miss this friend group. But I do have to thank you for ditching me or else I wouldn’t have found a real friend.”
“Who? This lesbian?” One of the other girls scoffed and gestured to Peter.
“Yeah.” Peter snapped. “This lesbian.“
“Now if you’ll excuse us, Peter needs to find a belt.” You said and walked away with Peter following right behind you. You didn’t drop his hand as you did a half walk half run through the mall as adrenaline rushed through you. Once you were far enough away from them, you stopped running.
“That felt good.” You said through an out of breath laugh.
“For me too.” Peter agreed. “And I was almost entirely uninvolved in that situation.”
“Come on. I wanna do the Photo Booth and immortalize this day.” You said and excitedly pulled him into the Photo Booth. Peter shut the curtain while you picked the boarder for the pictures, purposefully choosing one that had red hearts all over it.
“Okay. We only have five seconds between pictures so you have to pick your poses quickly.” You told him as the countdown began.
“But I’m so awkward. I don’t know how to pose.” Peter said as the countdown dwindled down.
“Just smile and look like you like me.” You said and pressed your cheek against his to smile for the camera. The camera flashed and you slung your arm around him for the next photo. The camera flashed again and Peter gulped.
“I do like you.” He said in a soft voice as he turned to look at you.
You looked at him and leaned in just as the camera flashed. You were still kissing when the fourth and final flash went off but you didn’t care. You pulled Peter closer by his shirt while his hands snaked around your waist. You pushed him away suddenly with a suspicious look on your face.
“Wait, do the webs, like, come out of your butt ever?”
“What? No.” He laughed. “They don’t come out of me at all. I built devices and developed a web fluid to shoot out of them. I don’t actually produce webs.”
“Oh. Okay.” You nodded and pulled him back into a kiss. He kissed you back for a moment before pulling away.
“Wait, would that have been a deal breaker if I did? Produce webs, I mean.” He asked you.
“I mean, I’d still like you but I don’t know if I could date a guy who could physically produce webs in his body. I just think that would really gross me out. Producing webs is I think where I’d have to draw the line.”
“So does that mean you’d date a guy who doesn’t produce webs?” He asked with a hopeful smile.
“Isn’t that every guy?” You pointed out.
“Oh. Yeah. I guess it kinda is.” He realized. “Well, would you date a guy who is far more likely to shoot webs from his butt than the average man? Given his spider themed career path?”
“Well, I don’t know. I never thought about that before.” You pursed your lips and pretended to give it genuine though. Peter playfully rolled his eyes at you and cupped your face to kiss you again.
“What do you think now?” He asked with your face still in his hands.
“I think I would.” You smiled and tugged his shirt to bring him back into a kiss.
Tag List
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@tom-hollands-wifey
@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings
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#peter parker x reader#shy!peter parker x reader#peter parker x popular!reader#shy!peter parker#peter parker x you#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker imagine#peter parker x y/n#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland fluff#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland x y/n
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Let Me?
Art Donaldson x reader
Notes: suggestive, fwb-ish, non-tennis AU, university AU, polisci mentioned 😬 first ever work, comments/feedback appreciated 🗣️
Word count: 1k
A/N: sorry for blueballing mike faist call me
Summary: Political science can be a hard major. Everyone needs a distraction sometimes.
Now playing: Play Date - Melanie Martinez
“I’m walkin’ to your house, nobody’s home,
just me and you and you and me alone.”
——————————————————————
Art was so polite. When you first met through your polisci study group friends, he was the perfect gentleman. When you all would go out together, he’d hold the door for you, always pull out your chair when you came back to the table with drinks. You figured he was like that with every girl, your typical midwestern sweetheart.
You couldn’t have caught how his eyes lingered on you when you’d walk past him through the door, or how his eyes drifted downward while you chatted and passed out drinks. No one could. No one suspected it of him. He was too slick about it.
So when the rest of the group wasn’t available and he asked you to help him study for an upcoming test, you thought nothing of it. His roommate would be right next door anyway.
And it really was nice. It was enough to make learning about congressional oversight over the bureaucracy less excruciating. You two laughed a lot (he did at all of your jokes) and he’d smile so sweetly at you that it sort of gave you butterflies. Of course you wouldn’t object when he started only asking for you to study with. You figured it was because you were good at the subject anyway. It’s not like you weren’t getting something out of it too. You had to admit that you liked how he acted like your puppy. He’d do anything you asked, get you whatever snacks you wanted, ever the knight in shining armor. He really was a cutie, especially when got that embarrassed blush on his face hearing his roommate outside the door with the girls he brought back, or the constant EDM blasting from his room.
Midterms were coming up, and you were stressed. You were a high achiever, but studying for 5 classes was a lot to juggle. So of course you took up Art’s offer of a study/chill sesh at his dorm. You knocked, and he opened, wearing his red cap backward, another thing you thought was cute on him. You looked a little past him, noticing the silence. His roommate wasn’t there. Your eyes felt back on him and you noticed that this time he looked more… pensive. His eyes looked tired, his lips looked bitten on. You chalked it up to the time of year. You probably looked out of sorts too. As he held the door and you brushed past him, though, you could feel his eyes on you, stalking you like prey.
You were sat on his bed, and the lack of technobeats in the background made the air feel heavy. Things were more quiet this time as you two once again went through the motions of flipping through flashcards detailing factors affecting political efficacy. It almost felt tense. You weren’t so sure his roommate’s absence was entirely at fault. At some point you put them down and sighed, slumping against the wall.
“I can’t do this anymore. I just wish midterms were over. I feel like I haven’t relaxed in weeks.”
He was still upright, looking at you keenly.
“Yeah. Me neither.”
He put his cards down without taking his eyes off of you.
“I need a distraction. Just for a little. I just wanna stop thinking.”
He huffed in agreement, then paused. Now he looked down. Started biting his lips again. He swallowed.
“I could…help you with that.”
Maybe you were reading too far into the tension in the room, but your mind quickly darted to something…uncivil. Your stomach jumped before you regained your composure. …He was cute. It’s not like in your horny hellscape of a university you hadn’t thought about it before. You had no time for a relationship that could relieve your frustrations, something your major was known for, and which you and your single friends complained about often. It was starting to take a toll. Still, you took the thought out of your head. You just had a dirty mind. That’s not what he meant. He was gonna pull playing cards out of his pocket or something. You laughed a little, lightly, cautiously.
“What do you mean?”
He looked back up, eyes shining, piercing. His face grave, like when you’d came in. It made you feel almost too seen…almost naked. Almost like your minds had gone to the same place.
His eyes went down again, landing on his fingertips, which you hadn’t noticed had reached the edge of your thigh. In fact, you couldn’t focus on much outside of your heart beating in your ears.
“I just…I’ve been really stressed too. Really busy. I mean, the way we all are. Too busy to…you know…” He trailed off a little, his eyes crinkling in an embarrassed huff, softening his features. “And…you know what a good stress reliever is?”
He was hesitant, but the question was rhetorical. The way he said it was enough to give the answer. Your peers talked about their sexual frustrations enough that you knew it was on their minds too.
It was so still that you feared he could hear your heart beating out of your chest. You both being on the same page had caught you off guard.
His lack of silence caused him to backtrack, trying to read your face. “I mean, we always talk about not having time for dating and wanting hookups and stuff… I just figured since we know each other we could…I don’t know…lend each other a hand.”
You could feel your face getting hot, giddiness rising inside you. Seeing the small smile on your face, and how you watched his fingertips on their trail up your thigh, he seemed to relax.
You felt cheeky. He was into you. “So you wanna help me out?”
“…please?” His eyes turned pleading. “No one’s here.” He said softly, suggestively.
Your face turned even hotter. He was right. You were alone. No one would hear him putting you through the mattress like you’d tried not to imagine before. God, you were getting ahead of yourself. You nodded. He pulled away from you, and the vacant space he left on your thigh felt cold. You weren’t sure what he was doing until he got off the bed, kneeling, and settled between your legs.
He gazed up at you, looking more puppy-like than ever, his wide, desirous eyes a question — a desperate plea.
“Let me?”
#challengers#challengers x reader#challengers imagine#challengers x you#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#mike faist#mike faist x reader#art donaldson imagine#art donaldson smut#challengers smut
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illicit affairs - part two | r.c
summary:
"Speaking of, why don’t you stay over tonight? It’s late, and I don’t want you walking home by yourself.”
“You’re not gonna drive me?” You asked with a pout and he rolled his eyes.
“I’m too tired, don’t make me. Just stay over.”
“What? And leave in the morning like I’m one of your hook ups? Please.”
OR; Rafe makes an outrageous suggestion and you? You give in.
pairing: rafe cameron x reader
warnings: mention of drugs, talk about sex (nothing graphic yet) but the later parts will have smut, so 18+ MDNI!
word count: 2k
author's note: pt. two out so soon?? there's gotta be smth fishy going on 🤭we finally get into the PLOT! i hope you enjoy my lovelies, don't forget to leave a comment/like/reblog or share your thoughts with me in the inbox.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
pt. two: "it's born from just one single glance"
A week after the party, it was the first Friday in a while where the four of you didn’t go to a party. After spending a day out of the sea to test out Topper’s new boat, you got picked up some pizza and settled down in Rafe’s living room, where you were still in the same spot several hours later. The empty pizza cartons were stacked on the floor and the four of you strewn out on the couch and various seats.
“You want another drink?”
Rafe was waving his empty glass in front of you, a lonely ice cube clinking in it, an expected eyebrow raised.
You squinted at him, nodding. “Can you get me a coke please?”
“Sure.”
Kelce perked up in his seat at the prospect of another drink. “Hey, can you get me another beer?”
“No,” Rafe answered, without even looking back as he left for the kitchen. “You know where the fridge is.”
“What?” Kelce muttered with a frown, looking over to you as he slumped back down. “You know where the fridge is, why is he getting you a coke?”
You only shrugged with a grin, making yourself comfortable on the couch now that you had more space, while Topper clapped Kelce on the back in consolation.
“Come on man, you know she’s his favorite.”
“Hey!”
Grabbing a pillow from the couch, you shucked it at Topper, making him yelp when it hit him square in the face.
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not right next to you,” you scowled. “And I’m not Rafe’s favorite.”
“You’re a clown if you actually believe that.”
“Fuck you, you’re a clown.”
Topper tossed the pillow back at you, narrowly missing your head by an inch and the pillow fell to the floor behind the couch, landing just in front of Rafe’s feet as he returned.
“I was gone for five minutes, what are you guys fighting about now?”
“Precious over here thinks she’s not your favorite.”
You glowered at the other two boys, while Rafe settled back on the couch next to you, pressing a can of coke into your hands. He took a sip of his drink, eyeing you briefly and shrugged, pursing his lips in agreement.
“Nah, you’re definitely my favorite.”
You stuck your tongue out at Topper when he gave you a knowing look, instead focusing on opening your coke. “Whatever. It doesn’t mean anything, you two shitheads don’t make it hard for me to be anyone’s favorite.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kelce grunted with a frown and you raised a brow at him.
“You literally had sex in Rafe’s bed last year,” you said, before turning your attention to Topper. “And you’re still obsessed with Sarah.”
Rafe let out a noise, making clear that he was fully agreeing with you. “What she said.”
Topper, while satisfied he had proven his point, still rolled his eyes and Kelce crossed his arms, annoyed.
“I hate it when they team up like this.”
“Shut up and get your beer.”
The next couple of hours passed easily, just as it always did when the four of you came together to talk shit. While you did enjoy going to parties every now and then, you really appreciated just hanging out with your friends and talking about everything and nothing in the safety of the four walls of Rafe’s home.
Only you and your boys. Just the way you liked it.
“Alright, I think it’s time for me to go,” Topper said, breaking up the group with a yawn, shaking his head to stay awake as he sat up. “I’m beat.”
“Can you give me a ride?” Kelce asked, standing up and Topper nodded, turning to you.
“Do you need me to drop you off too?”
You stretched your arms, legs long draped over Rafe’s lap as you laid lengthwise on the couch. It was nearing one am and you really should make your way home, but you were far too comfortable to move, having spent most of the day in the sun, which was catching up to you now.
“I think I might stay for a while longer, thanks though.”
Topper clicked his tongue, ruffling your hair, messing it up for good measure as he and Kelce said their good byes, their voices getting quieter as they strolled to the front, the door shutting in its hinges. It wasn’t long after until you could heard Topper’s truck start, and then pull off the estate grounds.
Finally, it was quiet enough for you to hear the music, which was drowned out by Kelce’s constant yapping. You loved him but he was such a chatter box when he drank beer.
“Isn’t Sarah coming home tonight?” you asked into the sudden quietness, combing through your hair with your fingers, trying to get rid of the knots that have formed since you’d laid on the couch for the whole night. The estate had been quiet apart from the four of you causing raucous in the living room.
“Please,” Rafe scoffed. “She’s staying with John B more nights than not, I’m this close to kicking her out for real.”
“Oh come on,” you laughed, leaning up to shove his arm a little. “She’s in love. Leave her alone. And don’t act like you don’t enjoy being the man of the house and having it all to yourself.”
Rafe grinned to himself, shrugging his shoulders a bit like you weren’t absolutely right. Like you said, you knew him. “Eh. Maybe. House tends to get a little quiet sometimes... Speaking of, why don’t you stay over tonight? It’s late, and I don’t want you walking home by yourself.”
“You’re not gonna drive me?” You asked with a pout and he rolled his eyes.
“I’m too tired, don’t make me. Just stay over.”
“What? And leave in the morning like I’m one of your hook ups? Please.”
“Give me a break,” Rafe huffed. “You know damn well you’re not one of my hook ups. They don’t get to stay till the morning,” he paused, turning his head to look at you inquisitively, and you knew that look all too well. He was about to be nosy. “What about yours, anyways?”
“My what?”
“Your hook ups, precious. Haven’t seen anyone around since Jack.”
You shrugged. “Cuz there wasn’t anyone else since Jack, you know that. And he wasn’t a hook up, he was my boyfriend.”
He was quiet, but you could basically hear the gears in his head turning. “I know you’re not into hook ups and shit, but don’t you need to get off sometimes?”
“And risk hooking up with weirdos like Moany? No thank you. I don’t need anyone else to get off.”
Rafe rolled his eyes. “I know, jesus. I’m just saying… Sex by yourself isn’t as good as sex with another person. If you know what they like. Not everyone has freaky requests like Monique. And if you’re compatible, you know the sex can be insane.”
You eyed him suspiciously, not sure if you liked which direction this was going. He wasn’t about to suggest the two of you having sex…. Right? Because that would be just crazy.
“… jus’ getting sick of having to get to know a new girl every time, ‘s exhausting.”
“You know you can have sex with a person more than once right?”
Rafe scoffed, leaning his hands behind his head. “Yeah, but then they start getting comfortable. I don’t need that right now.”
You waved your hands around, trying to stop Rafe’s train of thought before it could get any further.
“Rafe, stop beating around the bush. The fuck are you on right now?”
He swirled his drink around, downing the last of it before shoving the glass on the table, looking at you.
“What if… We fucked?”
“What?” you stared at him incredulously, like he had just grown a second head.
“I mean, not relationship wise. Casual. Friends with benefits.”
“Friends with benefits,” you echoed, dryly. “Are you insane?”
Rafe scoffed, shaking his head at you, not bothering with a reply. You thought that was the end of it, trying to calm your heart down, as it was nearly jumping out of your throat, when you felt Rafe’s hand splaying across your bare legs. His fingers brushed your inner thigh, making you tense and you glared up at him.
“Seriously Rafe?”
“Seriously Rafe?” Rafe mocked you, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear, the other hand starting to trace circles into the skin of your thigh, like it was the most normal thing for him to do. “We both know that if you didn’t want me touching you, you’d have kicked me half ways across the room already.”
You wanted to protest, but your words died halfway down your tongue, knowing it was no use with the way Rafe was looking at you. Also, he was a 100% right. Turning away, you stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore how his finger tips left your skin tingling, thinking of the most random things to calm yourself down.
There was no use of lying to yourself, a part of you wanted to say yes.
You knew Rafe didn’t do relationships, has never had a girlfriend in all the years you’d been friends. What if being friends with benefits was the closest thing you could be for Rafe? Not only his best friend, but a step further? What if this was all you could get with him?
“This is a bad idea.”
“Why?”
“You’re my best friend.”
“Exactly. You’re my best friend, I don’t have to tell you anything because you know exactly what I like and what I don’t.”
“Not when it comes to sex!”
“Okay okay, calm down, I was just making a suggestion.”
Rafe trailed off, dropping the topic, his fucking hand still on your thigh. He wasn’t looking at you, but you could tell that he was biting back a grin, and you hated to think that you were going to give in.
“We’re not telling anyone, you hear me? Not a single soul. Especially not Top and Kelce, they would never let us live this down.”
He turned his head, the corner of his mouth ticking up knowingly. He was your best friend after all, he knew what to say to convince you of his argument. “Those two knuckleheads don’t need to know everything we do,” Rafe said as he leaned in, but you stopped him halfway, your hand on his chest.
“If this affects our friendship in any way, or or…. If it gets awkward or someone… Just, we stop, okay? No lying to get your dick wet.”
“Have I ever lied to you, precious?”
“Uh, yes. Remember when you, Top and Kelce snuck into my gard- oomph.”
Your sentence was cut short when Rafe pressed his lips against you in a soft kiss, his hand cupping the back of the neck. He pulled away, his breath hot on your face. Your lips parted a bit, shock coursing through your veins. You had wondered how it would feel to kiss Rafe for so long, and you had to admit, that the real deal was so much better than anything you could’ve imagined.
“You talk too much,” he mumbled against your lips and you rolled your eyes, brought out of your haze. This was still Rafe. Your best friend.
“Shut up.”
Fisting his shirt, you pulled him closer to you, lips hot as they interlocked. He leaned forward, both of his knees bracketing your waist, one hand moving from the back of your neck to the front, so he could cup your face. Suddenly, you were surrounded by him and if you weren’t so distracted by Rafe’s tongue slipping into your mouth, you’d be freaking out right now. This felt like a fever dream; your hands moving automatically down his torso, sneaking under his shirt, nails grazing his chiseled abs and when Rafe let out a honest to god whimper, you knew you were done for.
There was no going on back.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
author's note: am i sorry about the cliffhanger? ask me later👀
#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron imagine#outer banks#obx#drew starkey
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