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strang3lov3 · 2 months

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Enjoy the Silence

You trespass into Joel’s house in search of some peace and quiet so you can get yourself off. Joel catches you in his bed in a compromising position. (5.2k)

That’s Pedro’s bum can you tell I love ass

Tags- pillow humping, masturbation, getting caught in the act, some humiliation but Joel talks you through it, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, prone bone, softdom Joel, little bit of crying (good tears) creampie, let me know if there’s something I missed.

A/N- Thank you to @tightjeansjavi , @notjustjavierpena , and @noxturnalpascal for all of your encouragement on this I know I’m not easy to deal with sometimes AND thank you my dear readers for being patient with me, I’ve been slacking on writing/uploading. I’d love it if you’d say hi to me, I’ve been missing you!! Hope you enjoy this one I’m glad to be back❤️🩷💜💙🩵

It’s too fucking loud tonight. You live with a group of single women in Jackson, all somewhere around your age, a few older, a few younger. You get along well with them, and they get along well with each other. Too well, perhaps. They’ve been talking for hours tonight. Hours. And they talk for hours most other nights too, especially now that the weather is starting to warm up. They’ve been making drinks and playing music, being rowdy. It’s past eleven at this point and they’re still going at it.

You can’t sleep. The blankets are too warm, but without them you’re cold. You’ve flipped your pillow over what feels like hundreds of times. It’s just one of those nights. Except every night is one of those nights, it seems. You tried touching yourself to fall asleep easier, but with no success. It’s not exactly the easiest getting off in such a full house. You’ve got privacy in your bedroom, sure. But the walls are thin and sound carries with such ease.

God, does this suck. A lot of your problems would be solved if you could just get yourself off. You sit up in bed and stare out your window and into the window of the house next to yours. Joel’s window. His lights are off now, but earlier you had caught a glimpse of him getting out of his bathroom. His hair was wet and slicked back, his skin shiny and damp. He’s so sexy, so thick. That’s when you moved your hand between your thighs as you watched him pick out clothes from his dresser, biting your lip and circling your clit frantically as you prayed for his towel to drop. It didn’t. It never does. You groaned quietly in disappointment as you watched Joel walk back to his bathroom and then come out moments later fully dressed, subsequently shutting off his lights and leaving his bedroom. For a moment, with your eyes and your thoughts focused on Joel, you were able to block out all the noise and focus on your pleasure. But then he left and the pleasure vanished.

You’ve lived next to Joel for quite a while now. More often than not he’s grumpy, keeping mostly to himself and Ellie. He’d usually just glare at you and your roommates. He can be friendly with others, though.

Once one evening, Joel had spent five minutes knocking at your door to complain about the noise. You saw it coming, you and your roommates had amassed quite a few dirty looks from him in the moments prior. You watched him through the window, glaring at your porch from his own. Your roommates were outside, talking and listening to an old but new-to-you CD. He wore a scowl and his arms were crossed at his chest when you finally opened the door.

“You ladies are chatty,” he grumbled. “Your music’s hurtin’ my ears.”

“We can be chatty, yeah,” you replied, “But you’re kinda crotchety.”

Joel sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’m askin’ you politely to keep it down,” He turned to leave then, but you tapped the back of his leg with your foot, stopping him, “You could go inside, you know,” you taunted.

Joel turned back around slowly. He looked so big, so broad as he looked down at you. “So could you.”

“Hm,” you hummed. You weren’t really sure why you were arguing with Joel when really, you agreed with him. The CD player sounds tinny and hurts your own ears at times, you can’t imagine what it does to Joel’s damaged ears. And the girls were too loud, other people live around here. But you were annoyed at the way he came over to complain about the noise level when he doesn’t know half of it, how loud it gets. “Fine. I’ll get them to quiet down if you do something for me.”

Joel raised his eyebrows, “Oh, I’m doin’ ya favors now?”

“Something like that,” you said.

“What do you want?” he asked through a sigh.

“You’re right, they’re being too loud,” you explained, “You don’t know how loud it can be, actually. I’ll try to get them to quiet down if you let me get some peace and quiet.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, your house is usually pretty quiet,” you began.

Joel nodded. “Mhm. And I like it that way.”

“And I’ll keep it that way,” you urged. “Please? My roommates are so loud, I can’t even hear myself–”

“Yeah, I know. Come on,” Joel interrupted. “Let’s go inside, then. Talk to your girls tomorrow.”

Joel led you to his house, opened the door for you and brought you inside. He offered you a glass of water and told you to make yourself at home, so you sat quietly on his sofa. Joel sat on the loveseat next to you. He figured you’d have brought a book or something to busy yourself with, but when he looked up at you after a few moments, you had curled your legs into your chest, laying sideways on his couch. He laughed to himself quietly and laid a blanket over your body, then turned out the lights and went upstairs to bed. You had never slept so peacefully. And that’s how the tradition began, Joel would let you come over to enjoy the quietness of his home. You never made good on his end of the deal, though. Your roommates stayed too loud, but it didn’t matter. You and Joel had found a system that worked for you both.

Still staring at Joel’s window, you shift your attention towards the direction of Joel’s front door when you hear it slam shut. You watch him stroll away, probably off to drink with Tommy or something like that.

Your core is still aching, a dull but constant ache. You’re thinking about Joel, unable to get the image of his slick body out of your mind. You’re thinking of the quietness of his house. Peace and quiet would be nice right about now. It’s never this late when you go over to Joel’s. You know you’re welcome over any time. Joel gave you a key to his home when you earned that privilege. But surely he didn’t have that open-door policy for what you’re thinking of using his quiet home for. He wouldn’t know though, right?

Fuck it, you decide, climbing out of your bed and sliding on a pair of slippers. First grabbing Joel’s key from your nightstand, you exit your room and go down the stairs, going towards the back door where you walk past all of your roommates in the living room who don’t seem bothered or worried about what you’re up to this late at night. The chill of the air bites at your cheeks and your shoulders. You didn’t bring a jacket, but the distance from your back door to Joel’s isn’t a long one.

You unlock his back door with your key and let yourself inside, scraping any dirt from your slippers on his doormat so as not to track it inside. It’s always quiet, but the silence is almost eerie. It makes you feel uneasy, doubly so because you know you’re doing something you shouldn’t be. But you’ll be quick. Joel won’t know, so no harm no foul.

You scan the first floor, looking for a quiet, comfortable area. Joel’s home looks almost like TV in black and white the way it’s so dark right now. The first floor is no good, you’ll feel exposed. So you walk up his stairs, and your first instinct is to go to his guest room. You spend a lot of time there anyway, when you’re not napping on his couch you’re napping in that room. But he keeps it clean for you, pristine. The bed is made neatly and tailored specifically to his taste. You’d never be able to recreate that, he’d instantly become suspicious.

Across the hall is his own bedroom, not nearly as tidy as his guest room. A clothes pile on a chair, the shade of his lamp slightly off kilter. His bed is made up of crumpled sheets and blankets, the pillows indented from the weight of his head. Joel won’t know a thing.

You tiptoe into his room, closing his door but the creak of its hinge cuts through the quiet air and startles you. Maybe it’s better to leave it untouched. You make your way quietly to his bed, first sitting on the edge, your feet dangling slightly in the air. You kick your feet a little, letting your slippers fall off. You feel so out of place here, so wrong. Like you’re invading his privacy, but you’re not. Not really. You’re not here to snoop or to do anything wrong, you’re just here to…well.

You lie back in his bed, his sheets are soft and worn, cold on the back of your legs. Their scent fills your nostrils, they smell like Joel. Like soap and his musk, slightly sweaty. It’s almost like he’s here with you. Spreading your legs and dipping your hand beneath your pajama bottoms, your mind starts to wander. Tracing your clit with your fingers, your brain is flooded with flashes of Joel. At first, it’s images of his neck, his forearms, his hands, all the veins protruding, muscles flexing. You’re circling your clit faster as you imagine he’s here with you, that it’s not his bed you’re lying against but instead his chest, he’s holding your knees apart as he nudges your head to the side with his nose, your neck exposed for him to lick and kiss and nip as you tease your cunt. You come quickly and your fantasy drifts from you. You make yourself come once more before you adjust the bedsheets slightly, put your slippers on and leave. Joel’s bedroom looks just as he left it.

You watched him, learned his evening schedule. On Tuesdays and Thursdays he’s out on evening patrol, he doesn’t come home until the early morning. Those are the nights you sneak over to his house. As time goes on, you learn that you can be less careful. You don’t bother wiping your shoes, you don’t tiptoe like you used to. You’ll push the bedroom door open wide when Joel leaves it halfway shut. When you leave, you don’t bother laying the sheets back in the way Joel has them crumpled.

Joel notices.

You still come over for your usual quiet time, and Joel studies you. He’s begun sitting close to you, trying to memorize the smell of your shampoo on your hair. He thinks he smells it on his pillow. And the scent of your body, your soap and your perfume. He thinks he can smell it on his sheets. He thinks he can smell you on his sheets.

You stay too long in his bed one Thursday night, startled when you hear Joel’s heavy footsteps in the distance. You bolt out of his bed, going down his stairs both as quickly and as quietly as you can. You shouldn’t have been so ballsy. Joel thinks he hears the door close but doesn’t pay it much mind as he undresses and gets into bed, and he doesn’t even notice you running back to your house from his window. What he does notice, however, is the way his bed feels warm as he lays down. He runs his hand along the length of his bed, the sheets feel cool on the opposite side. When he flips on his side, his nose nudges against something damp on his pillow. That’s when he sees your light flickering on from across the distance between your two windows, he sits up in bed to get a closer look at you. He watches your chest heaving like you’re out of breath, perhaps from sprinting across his lawn. He watches you then fall on your bed, he sees both of your knees hike up and spread apart. That’s when he puts two and two together. Suspicions confirmed.

He always knew you were trouble. And now he knows what you’ve been up to, trespassing to touch yourself in his home, in his bed, without him. You goddamn deviant. He’s gonna catch you in the act.

Four whole days go by, which gives Joel enough time to find someone to cover his evening patrol. It’s Tuesday night and he’s got his bedroom lights off so you can’t see him watching you from his window. You look antsy, pacing back and forth across your room, frequently checking your window to see if he’s left yet. When Joel does leave his home, he’s conscious to not look behind himself at your window, to see if your light turns off. He doesn’t want you to know that he knows. He doesn’t look to see if you’re sneaking through his lawn. Instead, he keeps walking, giving you ample time to really screw yourself. When he feels a sufficient amount of time has passed, he turns back around and walks home. He enters his front door slowly and quietly, like a ghost. He takes careful steps through his living room, up his stairs. When he reaches his room, he pushes the door open wider and leans against the frame, listening to your breathy moans, watching you grind on his pillow in the low light of his room. You’re gripping his headboard as you whine, you’re even wearing one of his dirty flannels. Sick puppy.

“Joel,” you moan to yourself. “Joel, oh god–” the lights turn on and you turn your head to see Joel leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed.

“Joel!”

“Yeah, I know,” Joel murmurs. “Caughtcha, didn’t I?” Any words you could possibly think of are caught in your throat. You feel hot, itchy. Joel notices the key he gave you sitting on his dresser and spins it around his finger. “Wasn’t what I had in mind when we set up our little arrangement.”

“I was– I wasn’t–” you shift uncomfortably as Joel puts the key down.

He shuts his door and approaches you on his bed, first examining his headboard. He hums when he sees there’s little indents in the wood from your fingernails, marks on the wall behind the headboard. It all makes sense now. When Joel sits next to you on his bed, you quickly slide your ass off of his pillow and away from him. He’s quicker, tugging your– his flannel in the opposite direction, forcing you back to your place. “Nuh-uh,” he chides. “You stay right there.”

The air feels thick and Joel’s eyes are dark, almost inky black. You can hardly look at him, his intense gaze making you squirm. So instead you look down, where he plays with the fabric of his flannel, admiring the way it dances on your thighs with his touch. He lets a silence hang heavily between you both as he presses his lips in a thin line, waiting for you to explain yourself. You don’t. You can’t. You feel so exposed, so ashamed of yourself.

“Whatcha been doin’ to my pillow?” he finally asks. His voice is low, quiet and deep. He’s met with more silence. “Makin’ a mess, s’what. Up to no good, hm?” More silence as you adjust his flannel over your body, protecting your modesty. “I’m askin’ you a question,” he takes your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, forcing eye contact.

“Yeah,” your voice is hardly above a whisper. Your face is hot, your waterline is brimmed thick with tears, a few spilling over. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“Ohhh, I know,” Joel coos, wiping the tears from your cheek with his thumb. “M’not tryin’ to embarrass ya, darlin’. S’human nature.” You can’t even begin to think of a way to get out of this situation. “S’that pillow ‘sposed to be me?”

“Yes.”

“Figures,” Joel mumbles. “Makin’ me blush,” he taunts, tracing lazy patterns on your thigh. His touch makes your tummy flutter, it feels misleading. Like you’re enjoying it almost, though you shouldn’t be. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he says. “Didn’t need to make believe with my pillow. Get yourself into all this trouble.” You can’t quite get a read on what his angle is here. Still aroused and you feel nervous, small, guilty – awaiting punishment of some sort.

You’re defeated. All you can do is nod in understanding. You find the bravery to meet his eyes, his gaze still dark and intense, perhaps even hungry. He walks his fingers up the length of your thigh, noticing how you twitch as he nears your center. “I’ll go easy on ya f’ya tell me the truth. How long you been doin’ this, sweetheart?”

You are in trouble. He’ll go easy on you if you tell him the truth. “I dunno,” you whisper.

“Sure you do.”

You don’t even know. A few weeks, a month maybe. You shrug.

“Think you wanna be honest with me,” Joel advises, provoking you slightly. Nothing from you. “S’alright. You don’t have to tell me. Just means you’re gonna finish the job.”

“What?”

“You’re gonna finish what you started,” he says. “And this time I’m gonna stay right here and watch.”

Your heart drops. You search Joel’s eyes, looking for some sort of indication that he’s fucking with you. You’re not sure that you’re capable of this. Sex and masturbation are already two different animals. Getting off in front of the man you fantasize about in his bed? Where would you even begin?

“You had the balls to start this, you’re gonna finish it. Come on sweetheart, show me how you do it,” Joel nods, gesturing for you to begin. When you don’t, Joel scoots even closer to you on the bed. “So shy, aren’t you?” He turns his body toward you slightly, outstretching an arm across your body and then holds your hip in his strong hand. He begins to guide your movement, encouraging you to rock back and forth on his pillow. But you’re stiff in his hold. “Come on now,” he encourages, “Y’can even hold my hand f’ya want.”

Joel holds his free hand out to you, still moving your hip with the other. He knows how vulnerable and exposed you feel right now. Taking his hand, your other gripping the headboard once more, you still can’t meet his eyes, Instead you squeeze them shut, your hips following the guidance of his grip.

“Why you bein’ quiet?” he asks, “Need to hear ya.”

Complying with his request, you let out a shaky and small moan. More of a whisper, really. He hums in approval, encouraging you to be louder. You’re starting to build a pace and find your courage, at least a little.

When you let out a real moan, a real sound of pleasure, Joel squeezes your hip. “Ohh, there it is. Good girl,” he coos, “Good fuckin’ girl.”

It’s instantaneous, the way his praise goes right to your core. You’re rocking your hips faster now, adjusting yourself to find a better angle. You can feel your own slick beneath you on the fabric of Joel’s pillow, wetting your thighs and your ass. His hand grips your own firmly, holding you steady, reminding you that he’s here with you.

Joel smirks as you move on your own accord. He lets go of your hip to explore your stomach and your torso with his palms, his fingertips dancing along the underside of your breasts. He sits up to get closer to you, tweaking one of your nipples beneath his fingers and sucking the other into his mouth, licking and swirling his tongue around the peaked bud. You tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls, tugging the strands as you ride his pillow.

This is all he wanted. To watch you leave your mark on his clothes, in his bed, on his walls. He pulls away from you and watches you in admiration, moaning softly when he finally presses his palm against his bulge. He undoes his jeans and pushes both them and his boxers down his thighs, then removes his shirt. He grips his cock tightly, biting down on his moans as he gazes at you with lust in his eyes. He thinks you’re getting close now. Your hips are beginning to stutter in their movements, you’re getting quiet now like you’re concentrating on your pleasure, your body’s tensing up. He’s been so focused on you, he’s forgotten all about the fact that this is supposed to be your punishment for trespassing.

Fuck. The punishment.

Joel doesn’t have a clue how he’ll punish you as he lurches forward, kneels behind you and pulls your arms from the headboard. He hopes he’ll find the answer along the way. All he knows is that you’re not coming, not yet. Especially not by your own doing. Yeah, that’ll work, he thinks. He’ll bring you to the brink of orgasm, make you beg and apologize before finally letting you come. Maybe he’ll not even let you come, he’ll see how he’s feeling as time progresses

Joel holds your arms behind your back in one hand and you yelp in surprise, then he adjusts his placement and pulls you back by your legs until you’re prone on his bed. “Up, sweetheart, up,” he mumbles, lifting your hips and pulling his pillow back, propping your ass up for him. The dampness of your arousal on his pillow feels warm and sticky against your tummy.

He palms your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh before parting your cheeks with his thumbs. He runs a single digit through your soft, slick folds, humming as you tremble beneath his touch. You’re so wet. “What a fuckin’ mess,” he purrs, pressing his middle finger against your entrance, circling it before pushing inside. You keen into his touch, arching your back for him.

“Joel,” you whine as he pulls his finger out.

“Do you know what a mess you made?” He doesn’t bother letting you attempt to respond, you’re way too addled for his touch to answer his question coherently. Joel dips his tongue between your sensitive folds, replacing his fingers. Just like how he touched you moments prior, he traces your entrance with a pointed tongue before dipping it into your heat. Your arousal is like honey, so thick and sweet on his lips.

He tastes you, savors you as he kisses your cunt. He’s lapping through your slick folds, his tongue parting all of your sensitive flesh, sensitive just for him. You can feel the wiry hairs of his beard tease your clit before he dips his lower, circling and flicking your bud with the muscle. He sucks it between his lips, making you squirm and writhe in pleasure. “Joel, oh my god.”

Your fantasies of Joel were never like this, never so indulgent. He’s sucking at your clit, then licking, nipping at your folds, before focusing his attention back to that bud. You’re moaning, pushing your ass back and grinding against his mouth, feeling his aquiline nose tease your hole. He’s buried between your most private place, his tongue flicking and swirling with such fervor. You’re biting into his sheets and seeing stars when he enters you with his fingers once more, curling them into that sweet spot inside of you.

You’re bucking against his face, your slick soaking his fingers to the knuckle, spilling into his palm. His fingers’ movements don’t falter as he pulls his mouth away from your cunt, trailing kisses over the crease where your ass meets your thigh. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

“I’m so close,” you answer through a gasp.

Joel kisses up your ass cheek, “How many times did you make yourself come in my bed?”

“Twice,” you reply. You’ll answer any question he asks now.

“Only twice?”

“Tonight.”

“Ohh,” Joel says. “Twice tonight. How ‘bout in total?”

You don’t know the answer. Of course you don’t. He’s doing the math in his head as he fingers you. He’s thinking at least twice a night, twice a week. This venture of yours has probably been taking place over a couple of weeks. So that’s…more than enough, he decides. “Yeah, ‘course you don’t know. S’lot though, hm?” He lifts his face to watch you nod. “In that case, m’not sure that you need to come again.”

“I do,” you whine, “I need it, Joel.”

“You want it–” Joel pulls his hand from your core and you cry at the loss. God, you wish his mouth was back there. “You be good to me and I’ll consider it.”

Joel pumps his cock momentarily behind you before he nudges a knee between your thighs. “Wider,” he instructs, leaning over you from behind. He brackets your thighs with his own, one hand on your waist as he notches the tip of his cock inside of you. He doesn’t yet push all the way in, though. Instead, he waits as you squirm and arch your back for him, trying to take more than what he’s giving you. You whine in frustration. “Easy, now,” he warns. “Should ask permission. Nicely.”

“Please, Joel,” you say, “Fuck me.”

“Yeah, there you go,” he praises, working into your body. You sigh in satisfaction as he buries himself in you fully, his tuft of coarse curls scratching against the skin of your ass. “Wasn’t so hard, hm?”

Joel tightens his grip on your hips, denting his nails into your skin like how you did to his headboard. His thumbs are pressed firmly into your lower back as he begins to roll his hips into you. The way he thrusts so languidly into you makes your head fuzzy, the only thought you can focus on being the sensation of his thick cock parting your insides. He’s fucking you steadily now, and you can feel the skin of his thick, pillowy tummy caressing your back with every stroke. Fuck, how good he feels.

He fucks you apart, setting a steady rhythm. Joel knows how much you needed him, how much you wanted him before now. How you love it, how it’s nothing but pure pleasure that makes up your whimpers and gasps and the tears on your cheek. He leans lower, covering your hand with his own and intertwining his fingers between yours. You shiver as he tugs your earlobe between his teeth, then licks and kisses your ear, his mustache tickling your skin as his nose nudges your temple gently. He takes a moment to kiss away your tears and rests his arm around the crown of your head, caressing your hair before fucking you wildly.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

“So good,” you choke out.

You can feel Joel’s grin against the shell of your ear. “Just how you imagined when you were fuckin’ yourself on my pillow, hm?” he purrs.

“Better,” your answer is honest.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, “Good answer, sweetheart.”

He curls one of his forearms beneath your bicep, reaching for your breast and tweaking, pinching you as he wraps his other arm around you, searching for your pussy with his hand. He finds your sensitive bundle of nerves and draws lazy patterns over it, teasing you. You’re so wet. So slick, your pussy gushing with each stroke of his cock deep inside you. The sounds of your slick and skin slapping skin are lewd, obscene as he pounds his hips against your body. He’s grunting, gasping in your ear. It sends shivers down your spine.

You’re twitching and bucking your hips, chasing that tightness beginning to build in your tummy. “Easy,” he murmurs. “Let me take my time with you.” He knows how desperate you are to come, but Joel makes you wait a little longer, feel the burn some more.

You’re whining and squirming as Joel fucks you, his face buried against your neck the hair on his cheeks scratch you. He’s biting, nipping at your skin as you let out your breathy little moans. In every inch of his body, he feels it–that power he holds, knowing you’re aching to come on his cock and it’s all because of him, it’s all for him.

His cock is beginning to twitch and he’s feeling that warm, sticky feeling in his gut and deep in his balls, he’s not lasting much longer now. He fucks you harder. “What about now, huh?” he grunts, “Should I let you come now?”

“Yeah,” you moan. “Yes. Let me, let me.”

“Then ask me,” he whispers, momentarily slowing his pace. He draws in and out of you slowly as he speaks, “S’all I wanted you to do, just ask me.”

“Please let me come, Joel,” you ask.

“Good girl,” He brings his hand to your face, shoving his fingers past your lips. You know what he wants, no need for his instruction. You’re moaning, sucking on the digits as he fucks you, the motion of his thrusts grinding your clit into his warm palm. Joel feels you begin to tense up as you choke on his fingers. “There you go, let go, let go f’me. You’re alright,” he coos. “Come for me. I’ve got you.”

You’re stiffening underneath him, eyes screwing shut as you let yourself go. You come on his cock and against the calloused palm of his hand, ecstasy washing over you in thick, electrifying waves. Joel watches your face closely, he memorizes your cries of pleasure and how you convulse beneath him. He’s fucking wrecked you.

You’re gurgling on Joel’s fingers that are still in his mouth as he slides his other hand away from your cunt in favor of resting it up high by your head. It’s his turn for release now. He’s without a thought when his hips begin to stutter as they lose their rhythm, the frenetic slamming of his body against yours indicating his closeness. He lets out a symphony of grunts and moans into your ear as he comes inside you, painting your insides with his spend, milking himself entirely. You take it all, everything he gives you, whining at the overstimulation and the way his release makes you feel so warm and full. Your cunt is slippery with his come as his thrusts begin to slow, slow some more until he stills inside you completely, resting on top of you. With a groan, he pulls out to admire his work, to watch how your combined arousal spills on his sheets. He uses two fingers to push some of his escaped come back inside you.

You stay laying on your tummy as you cross your forearms to use as a pillow to rest your head. Joel meets you on his bed, also laying on his tummy. You hadn’t even realized he undressed himself.

He reaches over to caress your cheek, then your flannel-covered back. “Nice touch,” he murmurs. “S’pretty on you.”

“Smells like you,” you confess quietly. “Turns me on.”

Joel makes an amused face as he nods. His eyes are sparkly but sleepy and your cheeks are warm, you bite down on a shy and embarrassed smile. He smirks at that. “So bashful,” he purrs. “You’re welcome to use my home and wear my clothes for your dirty work any time you like,” he says. “Just invite me every now and then.”

If you enjoyed, please leave me a comment, rb, or send me an ask, tell me your thoughts. Your kind words and engagement keep me motivated to write

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irisintheafterglow · 6 months

Note

hi!!! could i request pro hero!bakugo & pro hero!reader where bkgs doing an interview and they ask about relationships and his answer is “I thought you people already knew that im married”

i have no idea how to word things but i hope that was readable🙏🙏

keeping it in the family

wc: 1.6k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of drinking and alcohol, established relationship, dialogue-driven

note: RAHHH I LOVE HUSBAND BAKUGO. anyways !!! i hope you like this, i did get a little carried away when writing it so hopefully it makes sense. thank you for your ask!!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

“And we’re on in five, four, three, two…give ‘em hell.” The roar of excited applause jumbles together with the late-night show’s opening theme and the screams of excited fans can still be heard even as Kirishima flashes a blinding smile to the camera.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Heroes on Heroes! We’re so glad you’re joining us tonight, seeing as this is the finale of season one!” The audience cheers with fiery passion and it makes the three heroes onstage chuckle nervously. This was going to be a long night, especially if the superfans were crying after every word they spoke. “I’m Red Riot,” he pauses while the cheering erupts once again, “and I’m joined by my fellow pros, Chargebolt and Dynamight.” You wince from your place at sidestage from the sheer wave of noise that slams into your eardrums when the latter is introduced.

“Thanks for having us tonight, man,” Denki grins. He eagerly drums the armrests of his chair, to the left of Kirishima. “I’ve been looking forward to doing one of these since I saw Deku’s a few weeks back.”

“It’s a great concept, really. I love being able to just chat with you guys and shoot the shit about hero stuff. It’s so manly.” Kirishima turns expectantly to the other hero sitting to his right, whose hot-headed nature was blatantly obvious by how he was slumped in his chair, squinting slightly at the burning spotlights and clicking cameras. You admire Kirishima’s confidence in forcing Katsuki to say something. “What about you, Bakugo? How’re you feeling tonight?”

“I’m alright,” he shrugs indifferently. Your breath catches in your throat and you can hear the Dynamight agency’s publicist put his head in his hands. “It’s been a while, so it’s good to see you guys,” he adds with unexpected fondness and you exhale in relief. His eyes meet yours for half a second and he shoots you a wink that makes your knees wobbly. “I saw that save at the bridge collapse last week, Shitty Hair. Pretty decent work.” Kirishima blinks once, twice, and then glances at Denki. Katuski’s blank look narrows into a scowl. “The hell are you looking like that for? I got shit in my teeth or something?”

“No, no. Sorry, man,” Kirishima laughs. “I just wasn’t expecting a compliment from you so early in the show.”

“Yeah, we thought we’d have to booze you up a little more to get you to be nicer,” Denki jokes and he recoils a bit when he’s struck with a molten hot glare from the hero across from him.

“Whatever you’re about to say, bro, don’t say it,” Kirishima warns and the crackles in Katsuki’s palms gradually dissipate. “But, I’m wondering too. What’s with the good mood?”

“I guess I feel like playing nice tonight,” he answers cryptically, his gaze flicking over to you again with amusement. You can almost sense the fainting girls falling over each other in the front row. Kirishima’s attention subtly darts over to you and a knowing smirk grows over his face. It was the first time you and Katsuki were at the same press event, since you both thought it was too dangerous to sneak around until now. “But, talk about that bridge save. I don’t think a lot of people know that the guy was wanted by several agencies.”

“Ooh, yeah,” Denki agrees with a quick sip of his drink. He swallows and sets the glass down with a light thud. “He’d been giving us hell for weeks. It's not really the best matchup for a sand villain to be going up against an electric hero.”

“It was the sand villain and his wife, wasn’t it? That chick with the melting Quirk?”

“Yep, they were a nasty couple to deal with,” Kirishima confirms. “I had to keep track of this guy’s damn sand spikes and his wife turning the floor to goop at the same time.”

“Goop is a weird-ass way to put it,” Katsuki points out with obvious distaste.

“Yeah, but he was a pretty goopy guy.” Chuckles ripple through the audience and you can’t help breaking a smile too at Kirishima’s joke.

“I think for me, at least,” Denki adds, “the biggest pain was the fact that they were married, and they had, like, marriage telepathy or something.”

“Bro, I thought that was just me! Here I was, thinking that I’d incapacitated one and split them from the other, when bam! Both of them appear in front of me like a damn genie.”

“You ever have to deal with villain couples, Bakubro?”

“Nah, not recently. We’ve been doing a lot of big raids on all the crime families downtown.” He flexes his right bicep and pulls back the sleeve of his shirt to show a gnarly purple spot growing on his skin. “Got this little beauty three days ago from a neo-Hassaikai asshole.” You're not fazed by the ugly shade of the wound because you were the one who stitched up the...less visible results of the raid.

“Jeez, man,” Denki says in disbelieving awe at his friend’s injury. “If you ever need backup, we’d love to do a team up with you.”

“I think I’d rather die–”

“My agency would also love to team-up with you,” Kirishima interjects before Katsuki can finish his thought. The heart rate monitor of his publicist begins to rapidly beep behind you. “We can have a threeway team-up! That’d be pretty cool, don’t you guys think?”

“What if we all just merged into one big super agency? Like a big family?”

“That sounds like the stupidest shit–” Again, Kirishima cuts off Katsuki’s brash protests and saves them from being taken off the air.

"That would be so awesome."

“Would that mean we’d have to get pro-hero partners, too? Keep hero work in the family?”

“I think Salonpas would have heart palpitations if we said we were trying to keep hero work within the family,” Katsuki points out and his friends nod in agreement. “On another fuckin’ note, that Half-and-Half idiot keeps hogging the number two spot and it pisses me off.” Though you didn’t often encounter Todoroki while you were on patrol, you knew that he was adamant about keeping work life and family life separate. It made him even more of a dedicated hero and a recent bust of a notorious crime ring bumped him into the number two spot over Dynamight for that month. You didn’t hear the end of it from Katsuki.

“He and Deku just work really efficiently, Bakubro.”

“I can efficiently slam both their skulls into a–”

“You know what would solve that problem?” Denki butts in unceremoniously, covering up his harsh words for a third time. Katsuki grunts in response and the lightning-decorated hero gives him enthusiastic finger-guns. “Combining and making a family agency.”

“What are the chances that Sero would want to join too?”

“Probably pretty high,” Kirishima guesses. “He’s at my place every other week, anyway, so he’s basically my brother.”

“Alright, maybe this could actually work, then. I just need to find a smoking hot hero wife.”

“That’ll probably be the hardest part, buddy–”

“What about Bakugo?” You stiffen and the three guys turn their attention to a voice calling out from the audience. Speaking during the interviews was strictly prohibited until the question and answer section, but getting Katsuki’s attention was a surefire way to derail the entire episode.

“The fuck do you mean, what about Bakugo? Who the fuck said that?”

"Dude, just ignore them."

“Can’t be a family agency if Bakugo never gets into relationships,” the same nasally, irritating voice argues and your face feels like it’s been set on fire. Kirishima’s attention jumps to you for a moment and then back to his friend, whose palms are starting to spark like fireworks. “Do you just get no bitches, or something?” The audience gasps and security finally arrives to escort the disturbance out of the building. The director is ready to stop the cameras and jump to a commercial break, but Katsuki speaks before he can order the sound crew to cut the mics. To everyone’s surprise, his voice is nothing but amusement, like the insinuation didn’t bother him in the slightest.

“You think I don’t get into relationships?”

“Bakugo…”

“It’s alright, Pikachu. I really don’t give a shit about whatever that guy said,” Katsuki reassures his friend with a sly glint in his eye. His friends watch him warily, like a grenade on the verge of exploding. Once again, burning red eyes meet yours with a single question that you answer with a resolute nod. “I’m not gonna blow up, so stop looking like that. Really, I don’t care.”

“Why not?” A tense beat of silence passes, then–

“I thought you people knew that I’m married.” A shit-eating grin spreads across your husband’s face as gasps of shock burst from the audience. Kirishima and Denki both shake their heads in exasperation. They knew already, of course, but they didn’t expect him to reveal his relationship status as a result of a heckler. “Yep, going on a year and a half, now. Around five years together total coming this winter.” More collective cries of jealousy, surprise, and betrayal shake the building’s foundation. "If you don't believe me, ask these guys."

"Yeah, we were at the wedding, too. It's hard to keep it a secret when all of your friends are also high-profile heroes."

“Can you guys believe that he fell in love during the winter?” Denki’s thumb juts out toward his friend, who frowns at the mere mention of cold weather.

“I fucking hate the winter,” he grumbles.

“We know, man,” Kirishima says sympathetically, unsuccessfully hiding a chuckle. “You’ve been saying that since high school.”

“Yeah, and shit hasn’t changed,” Katsuki bites back with lighthearted indignance. “Look, they saved my ass when it was cold; how was I not supposed to fall in love with them?” To your delight, his complexion has turned a slightly darker shade of pink. “Yeah, I love them. What about it, asshats?”

“Is this a bad time to bring up the family agency again?”

“Let’s go to commercial before I blow this fucking chair to pieces.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #ask iris!

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greynatomy · 3 months

Text

unexpected

katie mccabe x reader

this was requested from wp

kinda made caitlin as the ‘bad guy’ but it’s for the plot

i also updated my rules for requesting and added the footballer who i’ll take requests for

———

Another day, another training done for the Arsenal women’s team. Katie sat on the sidelines, catching her breath and winding down from the scrimmage. As she’s drinking from her bottle, a shadow casts over her.

“Hi, Katie.”

“Caitlin.” She acknowledges the Australian.

“Uh, well, I was wondering if you wanted to try this restaurant I found last week?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They have really amazing food. So?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll tell the team.”

“No, wait.” She tries to clear up her intentions, but Katie already walked away. “Great.”

Two hours later, the whole team had met at ‘Sapori’ and waited at the front of the building for everyone to show up.

“Hey.”

Looking to her left, she see’s Caitlin shuffling closer to her.

“Hi.”

“This is a really great restaurant. The ambiance is amazing so I’m glad you’re here to try it out.” Caitlin breaks the moment of awkwardness.

Katie’s lips form a tight smile. “Yeah, I’ve only heard great things.”

“Alright, let’s head in.” They heard Leah say as everyone that could make it has finally shown up.

It took a while for everyone to figure out where ghey want to sit, but they made it work. Katie took her place at one end of the table, Caitlin taking place on her left side.

Conversations were flowing freely, everyone with a smile on their face. Katie was chatting it up with Beth and Viv when she feels a hand delicately going up and down her arm, making her flinch her arm away.

“What’re you doin’?” Katie snaps, eyebrows furrowed.

“Sorry, just wanted your attention.” Caitlin frowns.

“Okay.” She slowly nods. “Just don’t do that again.”

The food came out soon after, everyone hungry and diggin in.

“Sorry, excuse me? We didn’t order these.” Leah spoke up when extra dishes were placed on the table. Katie didn’t care, she dug into all that she could reach.

“These are just some dishes that the owner would like you all to try.”

“Well, please thank her for us.”

Everyone was in their own little groups talking about anything and everything at the same time. A couple of moments go by when Katie feels small hands on her thighs. Looking down she sees a little girl who seems to try and get onto her lap. So what does she do? she helps the girl up, getting her comfortable on her lap and wrapping an arm around her.

Said child, once content on Katie’s lap, grabs the fork and starts eating the food in front of her. Katie occasionally wipes her mouth with a napkin, the child unbothered by it.

Too occupied in helping the kid eat, she doesn’t see the looks on her friends’ faces. The group silently observes Katie and the kid, seeing how comfortable they are with each other.

The kid turns in Katie’s lap, hands going on both cheeks pulling her close. Katie thinks she’s going for a kiss so she leans down, except instead of a kiss, the gnocchi that was once in the kid’s mouth, was now in Katie’s.

“Ugh, Em! Not again.” She spits it out, wiping her mouth after. All Emmy does is laugh and goes back to eating. A couple of throats can be heard clearing, making Katie look up to see all her friends staring at her. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what?’ You’ve got a child on your lap.”

“Ye’ and?”

“Who’s child is that?”

“Completely hers.” A voice speaks up before Katie could answer. “She’s a menace and gets it from her mammy.”

“Mamma! Io mangio!”

“I can see! You’ve got sauce all over your face.” You wipe her face with a napkin. “How are you guys enjoying everything?” You ask the group.

“Oh, it’s amazing! Best thing I’ve ever eaten!” Beth exclaims.

“Who are you?” Caitlin asks.

“I am the owner of Sapori, Y/N McCabe. So nice to meet all of you. And yes, I know the last name isn’t Italian, but I just so happened to fall for an Irish.”

“Oi! Don’t make it seem like that’s a bad thing.”

“Oi!” Emmy echos.

“Wait!” Kyra says very loudly. “McCabe? So does that mean Katie’s your—”

“—Wife? Yes, unfortunately.”

“You’re beeing cheeky. Stop it.” She boops your nose.

You start to pick up some of the empty plates, giving everyone a smile.

“Hey, hey, hey! What’re you doin’?”

“I’m gonna take these back?”

“You’re not allowed to carry anything!”

“Katie, babe. I’m pregnant, not crippled. Plus, I’m barely even showing.”

“Aww, you’re pregnant?” Kyra goes to touch your stomach, but her hand gets smacked away by Katie.

“Katie! Be nice. And yes, I am.”

As the rest of the team fusses over Emmy and your belly, Caitlin decides to speak to Katie.

“So, you’re married?”

“Yup.”

“Why’d you make it seem like you were interested in me.” Katie didn’t know if she was being serious or not, but started laughing out loud.

“I don’t know what you’re on about mate. Probably just a figment of your imagination.”

#woso x reader #woso #greynatomy #woso imagines #woso imagine #katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #woso community

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writing-intheundercroft · 6 months

Text

The Night Shift

AO3 Link

Pairing: Auror!Sebastian x F!MC

Word Count: 10,206

Rating: T (just some smooches but plenty of angst)

Summary: You're the lead healer in the St. Mungo's intensive care unit, and a painfully familiar face ends up in your ward.

A/N: Took a break from my long fics this week to deliver a long angsty Seb one shot. I heard Phoebe Bridgers cover Night Shift and became feral over it. Perhaps it needs a smutty part two???

Night One

“I’m so glad you were able to slip away from work for a bit.” Poppy says, pouring tea into your cup.

You smile up at the brunette girl, who still wears her hair in a cropped bob, albeit a bit more fashionable now that you’re in your twenties. You miss Poppy’s presence in your life, but her career as a mazoologist and yours as a lead healer in the intensive care unit of St. Mungo’s has your schedules rarely crossing.

“It’s nice to be out in the sunlight,” you say coyly, lifting the cup to your mouth. It's the truth–you haven’t been out to tea with a friend, dressed in a pretty lace gown in what feels like ages. Your career usually has you in a tightly pulled bun, hair out of your face to focus on your patients, with bloodied aprons. Magic can heal most ailments, but your ancient abilities make you the best bet for the most gravely wounded. So much so that you’ve worked six nights a week every week for the past five years, sleeping during the day to make it to your overnight shifts at the hospital.

With few exceptions.

But there’s coverage today, giving you a rare Saturday afternoon off to enjoy the warm spring day. You and Poppy are sitting outside a tea shop in Diagon Alley, catching up on all things personal, while people watching. It’s strange, you think, to be surrounded by so many people. You leave for your shift at seven thirty in the evening, when most people are getting home for dinner, and return to your flat far after everyone has left for work.

Poppy had just started telling you a story about a wild herd of manticores she’d encountered on her travels abroad, when a familiar face walked up to your table.

“Merlin’s beard, I never thought I’d see the likes of you two ever again,” Andrew Larson grins.

“Andrew,” Poppy smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

There are obligatory kisses on the cheek as the handsome Ravenclaw pulls up a chair. “What are you doing in town, Poppy?”

“Visiting my gran, of course.” She tilts her head towards you. “And catching up with friends.”

“And you, it’s like you’re back from beyond the grave.” Andrew shifts his attention, teasing you. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Just busy keeping people from their graves, that’s all.”

“I’ve heard.” Andrew elbows you. “Youngest lead healer in all of St. Mungo’s.”

“Yet being the youngest earned me the night shift.” You wrinkle your nose. “And very few days off.”

“How’s the auror office doing?” Poppy quips, leaning her chin into her palm.

Andrew shrugs. “Busy; we’re working on a big case right now, but we finally got a few hours off to enjoy lunch. I was just heading over to the Cauldron, meeting Sallow and Clopton for a bite.”

You swallow thickly. It’s been five years since you last spoke to Sebastian Sallow. At this point, you can’t exactly remember how it ended, except that the two of you had screamed at one another. You were fairly certain you’d thrown a book at his head, and he’d knocked over your favorite mug in the process. You still had it, the handle broken off, now used as a quill holder at your desk.

“Oi, Larson! Quit flirting, we’ve just gotten a message. All hands on deck at the office.”

Both you and Poppy turn to the voice; Everett Clopton is standing a few paces away, wearing a smart suit. He still has his gold wire glasses, but he’s grown into them. He’s wearing a hat, tipping the brim to you both in acknowledgement.

You hate the way your breath hitches when you see their companion. Sebastian is also dressed well, sporting a tweed three piece suit, shiny black dress shoes, and a gold auror badge attached to his lapel. He meets your gaze briefly before looking back up to Andrew, who’s moving the chair back to its proper table.

“Emergency meeting,” Sebastian utters gloomily. “Ruined a good lunch.”

Your stomach twists at the sound of his voice. It’s no more than six words, but your insides feel like a wet towel being wrung out. And Sebastian doesn’t even have the decency to look at you, avoiding eye contact with the person he considered his best friend for three years. The audacity of him, to completely ignore the person who once held his fate in their hands–you feel the bile rising in your throat, swallowing down the anger that once consumed you.

No, you won’t let a tiny interaction with Sebastian ruin five years of hard work. You stare at the cutlery on the table, willing him to leave.

Andrew Larson sighs, rapping his knuckles against the table. “It was good seeing you girls,” he smiles. “Hopefully I run into you again.”

The three boys–men, rather, you are all twenty three at this point–shuffle away.

There is a heavy silence between you and Poppy, until she clears her throat.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly.

You nod, collecting yourself as you smile at her. “Perfectly fine. It’s been ages, Poppy. We’re all over it.”

She grabs your gloved hand, pulling it towards her. “You certainly are,” she says playfully, twisting the sparkling bauble on your left ring finger. “It’s gorgeous, by the way.”

“I never get to wear it,” you admit sheepishly. It’s been a month since your engagement, and you’ve hardly worn your ring; your fiance’s parents are perturbed that the announcement hasn’t been posted to the Daily Prophet yet. Despite having courted for the last year and a half, it still feels like everything has moved too fast, like you’ve fallen off your broom mid flight. For the most part, your engagement ring is safely tucked in its box atop your dresser, at the risk of getting bodily fluids on it during your shifts.

“He’s a lucky man.” Poppy echoes, sitting back in her chair. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

You’re doing fine, you think. You’re at the top of your field. You have a fine flat in a nice part of London, and a promise from a man that’s kind to you. The kind of man who waited for you to get off your shift to bring you breakfast, and took you to a nice restaurant on your Friday nights off. You hadn’t expected a pretty ring from him, especially since you only graced him with your presence once a week, but then again, your last relationship had taught you not to expect anything at all.

A flash of brunette hair crosses your mind; you blink away the thought.

“I’m happy. Very happy,” you say simply, holding your teacup up to your lips again. “So about the manticores…”

You jolt out of bed, a blue wisp of a rabbit bouncing around your bedroom. It’s rare to get a patronus message at this hour; it can only mean an emergency at the hospital. It also must be bad, considering they’re calling you in on your day off.

Without another thought, you tumble out of bed, rushing to your wardrobe to pull out your clothes. Your unit specifically wears a deep purple–dark enough to hide stains. Your shrug on undergarments and petticoats, and a burgundy gown with a high neckline. Your hands know exactly how to tighten your hair into a knot within a minute, having perfected the craft over the five years of your career. Your wand is stowed in your dress pocket; you’ll grab an apron at the ward. Grabbing a fistful of floo powder next to your fireplace, you step in, yelling out for St. Mungo’s.

The ward is in a flurry as you step out of the flames. A nurse hands you a white cotton apron, which you wrap around your waist as you hold your wand between your teeth. There are men all over, gashed and bleeding, as other healers take their information.

“What’s happened?” You bark at an orderly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Auror ambush by some ashwinders,” he says dryly. “It’s awful. Lost a few–even more are bleeding. It’s dark magic, some sort of spell to keep the wounds bleeding.”

“Of course it is, those bastards.” You mutter. “I’ll take the worst of them. Can someone bring me a coffee?”

He nods, pointing over to a bay of beds a few feet away. “Those three–they specifically requested you.” He hands off the charts, promising a caffeinated beverage.

You’re about to start flipping through the charts when you hear your name. Your head flies up at the familiar voice, and you feel the blood drain from your face. You can see Everett Clopton waving his hands at you; Andrew Larson’s voice is yelling behind the curtain. And just your luck, a pair of black shiny dress shoes are dangling off the examination table, twisted in an unnatural way.

Before you even realize it, you’re running to them. The charts are promptly cast onto the side table when you duck behind the curtain, a gasp catching in your throat.

Sebastian looks awful.

Correction–Sebastian looks dead.

“He jumped in front of me,” Everett panics, his hands on his head. “He shouldn’t have–we were talking, we thought we were out of the thick of it–”

“He’s been hit badly,” Andrew interjects. His sleeves are bloodied from trying to apply pressure to a gash across Sebastian’s chest, the blood seeping through his shirt and vest. “You have to do something,” he pleads. “He’s the best of us–we can’t lose him.”

“Move,” you urge the two of them. They scoot out of your way, and you make quick work of Sebastian’s clothing.

Years ago, tearing off Sebastian’s shirt would’ve been done out of passion, out of love. You push those thoughts out of your mind as you rip through his white dress shirt, which is sopping wet with blood. Sebastian’s skin is cold and clammy; even his freckles are pale, disappearing from his face.

“Get me some dittany and shrivelfigs,” you screech at the other healers. “And the blood renewing potions, please.” You run your hand and your wand over Sebastian’s wounds, uttering a healing charm. “Vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur,” you mutter under your breath. The spell isn’t healing fast enough, Sebastian is still losing too much blood.

You let out the blue wisps of magic from your fingertips as you channel some of your ancient magic into the healing spell. You’re still mad at Sebastian, of course, but you’ll be damned if he dies on your watch.

To your relief, the wounds start knitting themselves shut faster, but the scars look awful, all purpled and raised. Another healer is next to you, urgently crushing the dittany and shrivelfigs into a paste–an idea you got from the patient lying in front of you during your sixth year. You’d been battered so often during Crossed Wands, the two of you had experimented with salves and balms to lessen the appearance of your scars.

“He appears to be stabilizing,” the junior healer claims. “Good job, as always.”

You suppress the choked out cry that’s stuck in your throat as you think of Ominis, and how he used to scold the two of you for experimenting. He’d be thankful now that you did.

“There’s others,” another healer urges you. “We must move on to the next.”

You don’t want to. Sebastian seems to be stirring, groaning as the healer rubs the salve onto the gaping wound that streaks across his chest. You can hear Everett and Andrew crying and laughing on the other side of the curtain, exclaiming your name for having saved their partner.

There’s so much commotion, you could swear Sebastian uttered your name, but when you look back, his head is flat on the table, eyes shut. The color is slowly returning to him, now no longer pale and gray.

“We have to keep him for observation,” you instruct another healer, handing her Sebastian’s chart. “I’ll check on him later. In the meantime, there are others.”

Without another glance, you move on to the next bay.

“Excellent work as always,” your boss pats you on the shoulder. “You saved six good men tonight with your quick work.”

“I should just move into the ward,” you mutter under your breath before taking a large swig of coffee.

Your dress is stained with blood, fingers aching from all the healing you’d done. From the twelve aurors in the ambush, three had superficial wounds (Larson and Clopton included). Two had passed in the field, another before you’d gotten to the hospital. But all six of the aurors you’d treated, Sebastian included, were now tucked into private rooms, safe and breathing. You were keeping them for observation, unsure of what kind of curse the ashwinders had used on them. Your ancient magic managed to seal the wounds, but all were badly scarring. They’d all have to stay until you could rule out the cause.

After a much needed shower and an owl sent to your fiance, regretfully informing him you’d not make it to brunch with his parents, you start making your rounds. Most of your patients are sleeping deeply, others dizzily asking what happened. You save Sebastian’s room for last; Clopton and Larson, faithful companions, are sleeping in chairs outside of his room.

You quietly shut the door behind you, gulping as you stare at the man laying in the hospital bed. His chubby cheeks are long gone, hollowed and chiseled by age. You’d laughed at him when you were seventeen and he claimed he had a beard coming in; now you can see traces of stubble lining his jaw. His unruly chestnut hair has been brushed out of his face in a way you know he’ll hate.

But you don’t know that, not truly. Because you don’t know Sebastian anymore.

“Oh Sebastian,” you tut, sitting at a stool next to his bed. You hover your hands over his body, a misty blue glow emitting from them. No internal bleeding at least. He’s had at least three blood renewing potions, and his breathing is steady. You would examine the scars across his chest and torso, but the thought of undressing him in his current state is inappropriate to you.

You’re about to get up, leave him to his slumber when you hear it. He whispers your name in his sleep, head falling to the side. And instead of him being the one with a gaping wound, you feel like a hole has been drilled into your chest.

Maybe you’ll ask for tomorrow off.

Night Two

You’d asked for the day off again, but the request was denied. Begrudgingly, you dress for your shift, tucking your hair behind your ears as you walk with your daytime counterpart down the hallway.

“You’ve missed all the commotion,” your fellow healer gasps. She’s filling you in on the day shift, and all that’s transpired since you left in the morning. “There was a memory charm laced in with that blood curse from the ashwinders—some of them have lost weeks, years of memories. Not recognizing their wives or their children; we’ve had to close the doors to all visitors.”

“That’s a nasty curse.” You mutter, flipping through charts. Only someone sick in the head would mess with memory tampering curses—you wonder why no one has petitioned for them to be banned. The long term care wing at St. Mungos is filled with too many people who’d tinkered with memory spells, and you sincerely hope none of the aurors under your care end up there.

“Terrible, of course. But it made for an interesting day.” She hums. “You should’ve seen Rowle’s wife, security had to cart her out after he called her the wrong name. Think he courted her twin sister too.”

You laugh with her as you walk through the hallway, until your heart fills with dread.

“How is Sallow? The patient in 213.”

She tilts her head. “Fine I think–oh, he was asking for you. Do you know him?”

You fight back the red flush that’s creeping up your neck. “We were schoolmates.” You say. Nothing more. Sebastian can’t be more, especially after you’d done such hard work to forget him in the first place.

After your colleague has clocked out and you’ve checked all your other patients, you quietly rap your knuckles against Sebastian’s door. It’s late enough at night that he might be asleep already, and you can avoid the entire awkward conversation.

“Come in!”

Shit.

You open the door, and Sebastian is staring right back at you. He isn’t scowling like you thought he would be–his eyes are bright, a beaming smile on his lips.

“They told me you were working the night shift.” he says happily, scratching at the collar of his hospital gown. “I stayed awake.”

“Right, Mr. Sallow,” You say curtly, eyes down at the chart in front of you. “It is late, you should be getting rest–”

“But I’ve been waiting for you,” he frowns.

You look up at him, and instead of a grown man, you see the puppy dog eyes that got you in trouble the few years you had at Hogwarts. “Mr. Sallow, rest is essential to your healing. You’ve been through quite the ordeal, and you need to go to sleep.”

“Why are you talking to me like you don’t know me?” Sebastian asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Pet, it’s me.”

You inhale sharply, white knuckling the edge of the bed. “Sebastian,” you mutter (you hate how easily his name rolls off your lips still), “what year do you think it is?”

He rolls his eyes and chuffs. “It’s 1893, duh.”

“It’s not,” you sigh. “It’s 1898. You were in an ambush yesterday, and it seems the Ashwinders are using a memory curse as retaliation nowadays.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before he bursts into laughter. “Really? I’ve lost five damn years in my head? What have I missed? Don’t tell me we’re not married yet.” Only Sebastian could be jovial about such a matter; all the others were utterly distraught at losing their memories.

“Sebastian, darling, we haven’t seen each other in five years.” you confess, moving to the edge of the bed. Your voice is quiet, and although it’s been ages since you last called him darling, you think it might be too much on his poor heart if you don’t. The poor man just asked if you were married, for Merlin’s sake.

His smile fades. “What?”

“We…we went our separate ways five years ago.” You clear your throat. “It…it was a mutual decision.” you lie. Was it a lie? You honestly can’t remember.

“I would never,” Sebastian bites back. “I would never break up with you.”

“Darling, it’s been a very long time,” you say softly, wringing your hands together. “And I’m okay–you’re okay. We’re both doing well…just on our own now.”

“I can’t–this doesn’t make sense,” he jolts away from your touch, and you flinch. “Why would I ever agree to such a thing?”

You can recognize the tell tale signs of panic on a patient’s face, so you hurry over to the cupboard, pouring a glass of water. Sebastian is too far away to see you slip the vial of dreamless sleep into the glass, swirling it into oblivion.

“Here, drink this. You’ll feel much better,” you assure him.

Sebastian absentmindedly takes the glass, gulping down the water as he tries to make sense of the current situation. “It doesn’t make sense,” he mutters under his breath as he starts rubbing his eyes. He’s fighting the effects, and he looks up at you, a deep set frown on his face. “You dosed me, dammit.” The glass rolls out of his hand and onto the bed, where you scoop it up.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and it's sincere. But you’re not equipped to handle Sebastian in such a state–you aren’t equipped to handle him, period. It’s been five years since you’ve had to mind his temper, and your heart can’t handle the pain.

Before you know it, Sebastian is knocked out, the dreamless sleeping draught taking over his body. With his eyes tightly shut, you can finally examine him. The scars across his chest are still purple, bruises lining his torso. Your fingers dance across his skin trying to heal him, but alas, they stay.

You make notes on his chart, letting the other healers know he may be groggy and upset when he wakes in the morning. Even though they’ve put a no visitors policy on the aurors, you remind them to call upon Ominis and Anne to see if they can talk some sense into him.

The last you’d asked Natty about Sebastian, he was happy. He was climbing up the ranks in the auror office, and he’d finally moved out of Ominis’s spare room. You’d cut her off once she started telling you how he was dating–that you didn’t need to know.

That had been two years ago. You wonder what’s changed since then.

Night Three

Your pleas for a night off have gone unanswered. Your boss tells you that you’re too integral to the auror case to be gone for more than twelve hours.

There’s a note left by your fiance’s owl; he’s sad you missed brunch, but he’s excited to take you out on Friday, your next scheduled day off. His mother is insistent the two of you sit for an engagement portrait that will be posted in the Daily Prophet to announce your impending union. You fold the note and toss it onto your desk; when you have a free moment, you’ll write a letter explaining that you would like a lengthy engagement.

Planning a wedding and working the night shift is just too much work for you. You twist your large engagement ring off your finger and put it in its box before taking the floo network to St. Mungo’s.

You’re barely five steps out of the fireplace before a body hits you.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Anne Sallow breathes, her arms enveloping you. “You saved him. He’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Anne,” you sigh into her touch. Similar to her brother, it’s been ages since you’ve seen her. She’s still thin and delicate, but her bangs are long grown out. “What are you still doing here? It’s so late.”

“Ominis and I wanted to catch you,” she claims. “The healers called us in to talk to Sebastian.”

“Right, I asked them to.” you say, smoothing your apron. “How was he today?”

Anne winces. “He’s…he’s still pretty confused.”

You give her a sympathetic smile, biting back the sarcastic words you had in mind. “It must be awful.”

Anne pulls away, digging her toe into the ground. “He keeps asking what happened between the two of you. I’m not sure what to say.” she admits.

You bite your lower lip. “You can tell him the truth. That we ended amicably. That we were fine.”

“If you were fine, you wouldn’t have disappeared for five years.” a voice says behind you.

It only takes you a second to recognize the rich voice of Ominis Gaunt. Whirling around, you throw your arms around the tall blonde. It’s been ages since you’ve given him a hug let alone seen him, so he chuckles into your shoulder when you grasp him.

“I missed you,” you pat his cheek.

“We missed you,” Ominis hums. “I’m surprised St. Mungo’s would call me; I haven’t been Sebastian’s emergency contact for a while.”

You furrow your eyebrows as Anne takes Ominis’s arm. Why wouldn’t he be his emergency contact? Ominis is his best friend, and having been together with Anne for so long, practically his brother.

That’s a question for another time, you decide.

“It’s late, you two should be getting home. Visitor hours are over.” you remind them.

“I’m not leaving before you promise to see me again,” Ominis says sternly. “Five years is far too long.”

You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Of course. Ominis, I’m sorry. I just thought that when things ended, the two of you were best friends…”

“That was my decision to make,” he says softly. “Not yours. I decide whose side I’m on.”

Ominis’s words warm your heart, but they also leave cracks. Ominis and Sebastian were a package deal when you met them, and you’ve spent far too much of your time with the boys driving them apart.

After much coaxing, Ominis and Anne take their leave. You’re finally able to start your rounds. Rowle is starting to regain his memories and they’ve allowed his wife back into the ward. Travers still has a nasty gash on his leg that’s festering, but he’s otherwise remembering things from last week. Cattermole is fast asleep, so you avoid his room to let him get some more rest.

Your hand falters on the handle of room 213, taking a deep breath before you push in. Just as you thought, Sebastian isn’t asleep. He’s sitting upright in bed, arms crossed over his chest, frowning at you.

“You’re looking much better,” you offer, shutting the door behind you.

“You gave me a sleeping draught last night,” he accuses you. “That’s not fair.”

“You were getting hysterical, Sebastian.” you remind him, flipping through his chart. Nothing particularly new, and no memories back. He’s spent the entire day asking for you, the chart says, and fighting with orderlies. It mentions Ominis and Anne arriving, and that the two gentlemen had sharp words for one another. Ominis was right—he isn’t Sebastian’s emergency contact anymore. There’s an unfamiliar name, a woman.

“Open your shirt, please.”

Sebastian waggles his eyebrows at you. “Are you sure we’re not together?”

You roll your eyes. “Your cheekiness, I didn’t miss it.” you mutter, hands on your hips. “I need you to take your shirt off so I can check your wounds, you idiot.”

Sebastian gives you a familiar grin as he unbuttons his pajama shirt; he’s flexing his muscles, you can tell. A pinch to his pectoral has him yowling, and he stops. You grin at him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Perhaps we did break up,” he grumbles.

Sebastian’s breath stutters as your fingers prod at his scars. They’re still ugly and raised, but the color is improving.

“I’m not sure there’s much more I can do,” you frown. “I think they’ll stay.”

“That’s fine,” Sebastian breathes. “You did always say you preferred when I was roughed up.”

You give him a strained look. “Sebastian–”

“Please, listen to me.” Sebastian urges. “Ominis…he told me what happened between us. And I really, truly can’t believe we would let it get to that.” Your name is a gentle whisper from his mouth, and he pushes his brunette hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to neglect you.”

You swallow thickly, backing up. “We were so young, Sebastian. Let’s leave the past in the past, please.”

“Ominis and I haven’t spoken in two years.” Sebastian interjects. “He just told me. Annie says we had a fight, and you were part of it.”

You turn around, shutting your eyes. “I don’t want to hear this,” you admit weakly.

Sebastian is rustling in his sheets; he lets out a low hiss as he adjusts his still healing torso. “If the version of me, the one that got cursed, isn’t talking to you, Anne, or Ominis…I don’t want to go back to that. I don’t want to be that version of me.” Sebastian pleads. “If that’s the case, I don’t want to remember.”

“You have friends, Sebastian.” You remind him, turning to face him again. “You have friends, your job…” you trail off, picking up his chart again. You pinpoint the section with his emergency contact; a woman who is likely sitting at home, worried sick over him. “You have a girlfriend, probably. One who is desperate to see you.” There’s a lump in your throat as you try to imagine her, but your mind comes up blank.

“I don’t care,” Sebastian breathes. “She’s a stranger.”

“I’m the stranger,” you remind him. “Sebastian…I’m engaged. I’m getting married next spring.”

That’s a lie–you and your fiance haven’t even discussed a timeline, but it seems more official to say it with a season.

The hope on Sebastian’s face crumbles, eyes wide as he stares at you.

“You’re engaged,” he croaks.

“Engaged.” The more you say it, the more it’s real. “He’s lovely. You would like him.” Now that's an even bigger lie–Sebastian would’ve called him a prat if he met him. You appreciate your fiance’s softness and meekness, especially after having been with a firecracker hothead for most of your teens.

Sebastian is crumpled in bed, twisting onto his side. “I’d like to go to bed now,” he mumbles. It was textbook Sebastian–whenever something didn’t go his way, he’d turn away from you in bed like a petulant child. It’s almost a relief to see that he does the same thing at twenty three years old.

“If you ring the bell, someone will come to aid you.” You wave your wand, dimming the lights. “You can ask for someone else, if you’d like.”

Sebastian doesn’t say anything as you shut the door, and when he does ring the bell for assistance, he requests anyone but you. It’s stupid to be upset over, it’s what you wanted–for him to stop pestering you.

But you have a nice long cry in the potions ingredient cupboard anyways.

The rest of your shift goes by uneventfully. Rowle has regained his memories and will be discharged in the morning. Cattermole finally woke up from his deep sleep and he’s on the mend, moved out of the intensive care ward. Travers has also been discharged, prescribed a salve to make sure the cut on his leg stays clean. It leaves Roberts, Jorkins, and Sallow as your only three patients left from the case, and perhaps now your boss will let you take a night off.

Night Four

“I wanted to apologize for last night,” Sebastian says sheepishly.

“Whatever for?” You mumble, pressing a strip of gauze to his chest wound. You’re trying a new salve recipe you’ve been working on, just to see if it’ll help break down the scar tissue. His bruises are starting to go yellow, and if he works back up on his memory, Sebastian can be discharged from your ward.

“For being rude.” Sebastian sighs. “I’m…it’s starting to come back to me a bit now.”

You look up at him, eyebrows raised. “Is it?”

“We fought that night.” Sebastian swallows thickly. “You and me. I can’t exactly remember what we fought about, but you threw a book at me.”

“And I hit your eyebrow.” You remind him.

“Lucky shot,” Sebastian rolls his eyes, and you have to suppress a laugh. He winces as you press the salve in; his body is still sensitive.

“I’m sorry for that. I never got to apologize to you,” you admit, rubbing the mixture in. “But I was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed about what?” Sebastian asks softly.

“For putting up with all of it,” you pat another piece of gauze over the salve. Sebastian looks like a mess and he’ll have to sleep sitting up, but you’re hoping to salvage his handsome chest. There are a bevy of flower vases strewn across the room, and plenty of Sebastian’s favorite sweets piled on his bedside table.

“I see you had quite a few visitors today.”

Sebastian nods, trying not to move too much. “Anne and Ominis again; he’s warming back up to me, I know it.” he brags. “Clopton and Larson too. I can’t believe I was paired up with two Ravenclaws as partners. That’s probably how I got all bungled up in the first place.”

“Everett said you were quite the hero,” you back away, admiring your work (and his muscles, he’s grown quite a bit since you last saw him). “And they stayed the entire night when you first came into the ward, so I know they’re loyal to you.”

There is a silence between you two for a moment, until Sebastian breaks the tension.

“She visited earlier.” Sebastian echoed. “Rebecca.”

You turn away at the name; at least it’s not the girl you remember from your last argument. “Rebecca is a lovely name,” you offer. It’s all you can give him without treading into dangerous waters. You’re engaged after all, and stuck patting balm into the chest of your former lover.

“She was distraught.” Sebastian hummed. “Hates the scars.”

You turn around, rolling your eyes. “She’s dating an auror, she should get used to it.” you scowl.

“That’s what I said,” Sebastian laughs, trying not to move the salve covered strips. “But she wasn’t having it. She was worried I would never look the same, so I broke up with her.”

You blink at him. He seems completely unbothered.

“Sebastian!” You exclaim. “You shouldn’t break up with her over that alone.”

Sebastian shrugs. “Y’know, the boys filled in a few of the blanks for me. Apparently, not very many people actually liked Rebecca and I together, so I guess it was impending anyways.”

You put your hands on your hips. “I cannot believe you broke up with your girlfriend because Everett Clopton and Andrew Larson told you to.” you shake your head. “She was your emergency contact, Sebastian. You’ve probably been dating a while.”

“According to Clopton, I was planning on breaking up with her soon anyways.”

“Idiots, the lot of you.” You tut, washing your hands in the basin.

“We’d only been dating three months.” Sebastian interjects. “I put her as my emergency contact because I had no one else. Ominis and Anne…well, they weren’t talking to me apparently.”

You don’t say anything, letting the water run over your hands.

“I guess I’ve been a real arse the last few years,” Sebastian echoes. “Everett said I hadn’t been quite myself since we…well, you get the gist.”

“Everyone is an arse when they’re eighteen,” you remind him.

Sebastian snorts. “I’m sure you weren’t.”

“I think I might’ve been.” You chuckle under your breath. “Poppy always said I had a one track mind. Only ever thought about myself, my career.”

“Well, it’s done a lot for you.” Sebastian offers. “Youngest lead healer in St. Mungo’s history.”

You roll your eyes. “The others think I’m a show off.”

“You’re gifted,” he shrugs, and a slice of gauze slips from his chest. “That’s all.”

“Lay back darling,” you advise him, stuffing a pillow behind his back to keep him comfortable.

Sebastian does as you say, his hands balled up in fists at his side. “So, your fiance,” He trails off. “What’s he like?”

You purse your lips, pulling his sheets over his waist. “He’s nice.”

“Nice. That’s it?” Sebastian snorts. “Surely he has some better attributes, you said yes to marrying him.”

“He’s calm, quiet.” you say, turning your back to put away the excess gauze. “He’s a junior secretary for the Minister of Magic.” turning back to Sebastian, you already know he has a smug smile on his face. “Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say,” you warn, wagging a finger.

“What?” Sebastian scoffs. “I would never say anything about an esteemed junior secretary,” he says dramatically. “Besides, you’re the one who thought it…”

“I didn’t think anything!” You laugh. “I just knew exactly what you were thinking.”

“And what is that?” Sebastian asks coyly.

“You were going to call him a pencil pusher,” you accuse.

Sebastian fakes a gasp, holding a hand to his chest. “My stars, I would never say such a thing.”

“Stop it,” you laugh again, slapping his hand. “You’re ruining my hard work. I’ll have to do it again.”

“No,” Sebastian groans. “It’s cold. I just want to put a jumper on, I don’t care about the scars.” he pouts.

“I need you to get better,” you hold your hands on your hips. “The auror office will have my head if I keep you here any longer when your colleagues are back home.”

Sebastian fumbles with the edge of the blanket. “And what would consider me healed?”

“Well, I’d say besides the appearance, your physical wounds are fully healed.” You shrug. “But we can’t discharge you until your memories are back–or at least substantially returned.”

Sebastian is quiet, and he stays quiet until you finish putting away all your supplies. You’re about to leave him, implore him to get some rest, when he clears his throat.

“Pet,” he says cautiously (he hasn’t used your old nickname since the second night of his stay).

“Yes, Sebastian?” You ask, slipping your hands into the pocket of your apron. When you look at Sebastian from the doorway, he doesn’t look like a twenty three year old man. He looks like the Sebastian you used to know–the hotheaded eighteen year old who only ever got shy around you.

“Would you…could we be friends after this?” He asked lowly. “I know you said we haven’t seen each other in five years, and I know there’s some blame there on my end. But we’ve been through so much together, and you’ve saved my life.” he rambles.

You once told yourself that if Sebastian Sallow ever came crawling back, you’d slam the door shut in his face. The first year of your separation had been excruciating; the second had been dreadful. Once you’d gotten on to your third year without him in your life, the pain had become bearable. And once you’d gotten on to four years without him, you realized you didn’t think of him anymore. In fact, you hadn’t thought of him at all until you saw him standing a few paces away from your tea table.

“Of course, darling.” You assure him. “Only if you promise me that you’ll actually sleep.”

Sebastian’s face lights up in a way you distinctly remember–the first time you’d seen it was when you arrived in Feldcroft to meet Anne when you were both fifteen. He adjusts himself to the pillows as you wave your wand to dim the lights.

You shut the door behind you, letting out a sigh when you’re out of sight. You feel guilty calling Sebastian darling again–you’ve never even blessed your own fiance with his own nickname. And despite your refusal of the situation, you can’t help the shiver you feel at the base of your spine when you hear Sebastian calling you pet again.

Perhaps being friends is not a good idea.

Night Five

Sebastian is asleep when your shift starts, and you nearly skip over his room. But against your better judgment, you push into the door, knocking lightly.

The brunette man is slumped over, snoring lightly as if he were waiting for you. At the sound of the door, he jolts, rubbing his eyes.

“Why can’t you be on the day shift?” he complains sleepily.

You chuckle. “I can leave you, let you get some rest.”

“No,” Sebastian clears his throat. “I’d like you to stay.” He shrugs off his shirt, proudly displaying his scars. “They still look like hell, but at least they aren’t purple anymore.”

You stride over, running your hands over them. Your ancient magic was able to overpower the bleeding curse, but Sebastian will forever have a dip in his chest and bubbled over scars. They’re at least turning pink, a much better place than they were a few days ago.

“They look great,” you pat his shoulder. “And once we get your memories back in order, we can get you home.”

Sebastian gives you a strange look. “Ominis came again during the day…filling in the blanks again.”

“And?” You ask softly, sitting in the chair next to him.

“Why did we break up?” Sebastian asks firmly. “Can you tell me? And don’t give me the whole spiel about us growing apart. I want the details.”

You swallow thickly, looking down at your hands. “We were eighteen, Sebastian. I was careless, you were lonely, we were both focused on our careers and not on each other.” Truthfully, you had spent years thinking of the many ways you’d address this conversation, how you’d confront him if you ever saw him again. Now five years later and after having almost witnessed Sebastian’s death, the downfall of your first love is easily compounded into one simple sentence.

“You started working the night shift,” Sebastian says.

“I started working the night shift,” you echo. ��I wanted to rise up quickly in the ranks, so I volunteered. I was working so many hours, and you were gone during the day at your job, so we barely saw each other.”

“I asked you to take time off.” Sebastian adds.

“And I said no.” you admit. “I told you that you were being insecure. That my job was more important, because I was saving lives.” It’s one of the few shames you’ve compartmentalized over the past few years–that you’d ever downplayed the importance of his career compared to yours.

“I went out that night.” Sebastian whispers, looking at his hands. “And I didn’t come home until the morning.”

“It was my only night off of the week, and you came home at four in the morning, stinking of firewhiskey and perfume.” Your eyes shut, replaying the awful scene in your head.

“Did I?” he croaked. “Did I cheat on you, really?”

“No,” You shake your head, and he lets out a relieved sigh. “You said you could have. You said you wanted to.” You add, rubbing the temples of your forehead. “That you were tired of living in half of a relationship, and that you’d wanted to kiss that girl.”

“You threw the book at me,” Sebastian says weakly. “And I smashed your mug.”

“I told you to go to her if you really wanted.” You admit. “And you left.”

“I stayed at Ominis’s that night.” he whispered. “I didn’t go to her.”

“I didn’t know that. So I packed my things and left.”

The silence hangs between the two of you, and all of the feelings you had at eighteen come flooding back. After the fight, you apparated to Natty’s place, while Anne and Poppy had cleaned out your bits in the apartment. What was meant to be a one night stay turned into a week, and then more. After a month without word from Sebastian, you committed to the night shift, forsaking your friendships and social life for work. Days turned into weeks, weeks to months, and before you knew it, you were promoted. Sebastian Sallow was a blip in your timeline, a faded memory of teenage love. He’d been just a memory until you saw him in Diagon Alley. Your heart hadn’t felt anything but anger towards him until you saw his shiny black dress shoes.

“Did we throw it all away?” Sebastian asks sorrowfully.

“We became the people we needed to be.” You remind him. “Look at you, an auror. A damn good one. The kind that jumps in front of their partner to save them from a curse.” you assure him.

“And you’re a healer,” Sebastian inhales. “A bloody amazing one, that saved my life and five others. I’m so proud of you.” Sebastian’s lower lip wobbles, and you know your heart is in danger.

“You seem to remember quite a bit,” You point out. “More than you let on.”

“I was talking to Clopton about you. We thought the ambush was over, we were trying to get to a floo point so we could get Larson’s leg checked out.” Sebastian says. “I told him how beautiful you looked, and that you looked happy.” his voice cracks.

“Sebastian.” It’s not a warning, just a statement. A week ago you would’ve never said his name aloud, let alone thought of it. But it feels right rolling off your tongue.

“Everett said something about you being engaged. It’s…it’s fuzzy from there on, but I remember the fight. And I jumped in front of him, but not just to save him.” Sebastian says, his fingers drumming on his stomach.

“Why?” You almost don’t want to hear the rest. It might upend your life entirely.

“I jumped in front of him because I knew I’d be okay. That you would probably be at St. Mungo’s when I got there.” Sebastian said weakly. “And I’d get a chance to see you again.”

“Sebastian, we’re different people now.” You remind him.

“We’re better now.” Sebastian says, giving you pleading eyes. “I was an idiot when I was eighteen; I thought I was being a man, but I wasn’t. And I’m not going to pretend that I’ve been happy the past five years–there hasn’t been another woman who’s made me feel the way you do.” he confesses.

“It’s been too long,” you try to say, but you know it's no use trying to argue with him. From your first fight in the Undercroft at fifteen to the fight that broke you two up, Sebastian has never backed down.

Before you even realize it, Sebastian has reached his hand out, taking yours. He’s rubbing your left ring finger–the one missing your large, ostentatious engagement ring.

“Don’t marry him,” Sebastian croaks. “Please, don’t marry him.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I understand you now.” Sebastian says. “I understand you in a way I didn’t when I was younger. And that’s good–it’s good for us now. It wasn’t the right time then, but we could try again now.” he pleads.

“Four days ago when you saw me in Diagon Alley, you could barely look at me.” You remind him. “I should have you committed to the memory ward at this point.”

“Four days ago when I saw you, I was sick to my stomach with how happy you looked.” Sebastian admits. “I saw you from a distance, smiling at Larson and Poppy. I couldn’t look you in the eye after seeing you smile.”

You want to tell Sebastian that your fiance is a good man. That he loves you, cherishes you, and doesn’t fight with you. But you can’t help being nostalgic as you hold the hand of your first love, who is currently begging you to end your relationship to risk it all again with him. Whatever strength you’ve mustered together in the last five years is about to break as his big brown eyes implore you to stay.

“Your memory seems back to normal,” you change the subject, standing up quickly. You tug your hand out from his, smoothing your clammy palms against your apron. “I’ll put you down for discharge in the morning.”

“Don’t,” Sebastian warns. “Don’t run away.”

“You ran away.” You remind him.

“And I regret it, every day.” Sebastian says mournfully. “You were my first love. You were going to be my only love, and I fucked it up.”

“We both made mistakes, Sebastian.” You say, staring down at your feet. “You need to get some rest. I’ll leave you be.”

He’s arguing as you step through the door, wringing your hands together. The thoughts running through your head aren’t right–no, they’re crazy. Except your feet keep walking towards the ward matron’s desk, gripping the stone top.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asks, frowning.

“I need to go home,” you confess, scribbling what little notes you have onto Sebastian’s chart. “There’s something I have to do.”

Thirty minutes later (your on call replacement is displeased to have been woken up late at night) you’re back in your flat. Your mind is buzzing as you pace in the bedroom, thinking about the idea gnawing at your brain.

It would be insane.

You haven’t talked in five years.

He’s emotional after having been saved from the brink of death.

He broke up with his girlfriend on the spot, because she wasn’t you.

Sebastian is most well known for his unwavering support and adoration. At least he was when you were younger. Sebastian had always been encouraging, cheering you on through crossed wands, battles in the highlands, and even when you got your first job offer from St. Mungo’s. He’d been crazy about you–obsessed with you, even. The two of you had been the couple of your year when you graduated.

Sebastian had only ever faltered once, and it ended your relationship.

Don’t marry him.

The words replay in your mind. It makes you realize your stomach has flipped more in the last four nights than it has in years. That your even tempered fiance, a kind but boring man, has not once made you feel what you’ve felt in the past week being back in Sebastian’s presence.

It is insane, you think. But you’d rather take feeling than nothing at all.

Digging through your dresser, you pull out the box holding your engagement ring.

Night Six

It has been a long, long day.

What time you would have spent sleeping is spent assuring your now ex-fiance that nothing untoward has happened. That you appreciate his kindness and companionship over the past year, but that you cannot lie to yourself.

You cannot marry him because you don’t love him as you should.

You prepare for the night shift with a spring in your step, because when you get there, you’re heading straight to Sebastian’s room. You’re going to tell him what you’ve done, and hope that he’s still feeling just as crazy as you. You pull your hair into its usual bun, wishing you could wear something a little nicer to what will be your reunion. Sebastian used to love when you wore green; perhaps you’ll buy a green dress the next day you’re off.

When you get to the ward, it’s quieter than usual. Holding your wand between your teeth again, affixing the white apron, your heart beats out of your chest as you approach room 213.

This is it. This is the start of the rest of your life.

You push through the doors of 213, but your breath stutters when you see the empty bed. It’s stripped of any linens, and all of the flowers and candy boxes Sebastian’s colleagues sent are gone.

“Where is the patient in 213?” you whip around, grabbing the closest orderly.

They give you a curious look. “Discharged this morning–you put it in their paperwork.”

You swallow, and it feels like shards of broken glass are tumbling down your throat. “I…I did.”

“Isn’t today your day off, too?” They tilt their head at you. “Honestly, it feels like your head hasn’t been screwed on at all this week. Might want to take some focus potions, ma’am.”

“Uh, right.” You admit, turning red. You were so excited at the prospect of seeing Sebastian again, you completely forgot that Fridays were your nights off from the ward. You were rather busy after all, imploding your life. “”Does it say who picked him up?”

They shrug, flipping through the charts again. “He was taken to his home in Diagon Alley by his sister and brother-in-law.”

You curse under your breath as you try to plot a plan. There’s no way Ominis still lives in the small flat he had when you last saw him, and you have no idea where Sebastian lives. The ward doesn’t have an address either, so you’re shit out of luck.

Unless…unless you were to find one of his loyal partners.

Apparition is frowned upon inside of St. Mungo’s, but you’ll take a scolding from the matron ward on Saturday. You immediately apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, where most of the ministry’s aurors spend their evenings. You know this because you’ve been avoiding the biggest pub in Diagon Alley for five years, hoping not to run into your ex.

The crowd stares at you in your St. Mungo’s uniform; you push through throngs of ministry employees, all wearing fine suits and dresses from their day jobs. Your eyes scan the room, heart losing hope by the second, until you spot Everett and Andrew sitting with a gaggle of your classmates from Hogwarts, Natsai Onai included. Andrew elbows Everett at the sight of you, and Clopton beams as if he’s won a bet.

“Hi,” you say breathlessly, approaching the group.

“Figured you might turn up.” Larson teased. “Gaunt, Clopton, and I had a bet on how long it would take.”

“What’s going on?” Natty asks, clearly confused. She says your name, tilting her head.

“I need his address,” You gasp. “He wasn’t at the ward when I got there–”

“Anne and Ominis picked him up this morning.” Everett says, pulling out his wand and a paper napkin. He aimed his wand at the scrap, delicately burning an address into the paper. “He doesn’t live far from here. Perhaps you’ll keep him from spending too much time at the pub now.”

“Who doesn’t live far?” Natty asks again, elbowing Andrew.

“Sallow, of course.” Larson winks. “You two had enough time to talk it through, yeah?”

“What the bloody hell–they haven’t spoken in five years,” Natty claims with wide eyes. She gives you a look, and you can’t do anything but shrug.

“Near death experiences will change you,” Everett says smugly, taking a sip of his tankard. “Well go on then, what are you still doing here?”

You mouth an apology to Natty; you’ll have to explain it to her someday soon. For now, you’re pushing through the crowd, trying to get out the door. Looking down at the napkin, Everett Clopton is right; Sebastian lives maybe a stone's throw away from the pub. Your feet are pounding on the cobblestone of Diagon Alley, looking like a blue wisp to any passersby.

Before you know it, you’re turning onto his street, with only the lamps in front of each door illuminating the numbers. You stop, gasping for air, trying to find the right one. Of course he’s at the end of the row, a dark green door with a gold knocker. It’s late now, the sky pitch black, as you start pounding.

It takes only thirty seconds for the door to swing open; Anne is standing behind it, looking shocked.

“You’re here,” she breathes.

“I told you she would,” you hear Ominis yell from the inside. “Clopton owes me ten galleons.”

“Can I come in?” you ask.

Anne bites back a smile. “Of course you can.”

You walk into Sebastian’s home; despite having never seen it, it positively reeks of him. There are touches of him all over the house–from the books stacked in the hallways, to the shoes messily kicked in the parlor room. He has trinkets from his travels on the mantle, and you can see he still leaves his teacups all over the house (something you once fought over–it seems endearing now).

Ominis is in the sitting room, lounging on a chaise. “Took you long enough.” he says teasingly. “I was rather surprised you abandoned him last night. He was absolutely bereft when we picked him up in the morning.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you admit sheepishly, digging your toe into the carpet. “I…I just had something I had to do first.”

“A break up and a make up in one day, you’re a busy woman as always.”

“Shut up.”

Ominis gives you a toothy grin; something he saves only for those he loves. “I missed you.” he stood, pulling you into a tight hug. “I can only hope Sebastian doesn’t bungle it all up and we lose you all over again.”

You press your nose into Ominis’s shoulder; it seems silly you ever thought you could live without this group of people in your life.

“I thought you were mad at him,” you say, pulling back to look up at the blond.

“I was mad that he was being stubborn,” Ominis says softly. “That he wasn’t being himself, drinking every day and dating girls who weren’t right for him. I told him he had to pluck up the courage to speak to you again, or get over it and make peace with his life. He’s been rather stuck, as you can imagine.”

You have been too, you think.

“Is he upstairs?” You ask, turning to the slim staircase. Anne is standing next to the railing, giving a signature Sallow smirk.

“He might be asleep,” Ominis warned. “But he is. First room to the left.”

You squeeze his hand in thanks before walking up the stairs. The floor creaks underneath you as you push in the door; Sebastian is laying in his bed, sleeping fitfully. You nearly knock a stack of books over as you kneel next to his bed; you also recognize the book on his side table, the spine dented from when you threw it at his face five years ago. It reminds you of the shattered mug you keep on your desk. Perhaps you two have been subconsciously keeping pieces of each other around.

Sebastian stirs as you brush his brunette hair out of his face. He opens one eye, then the other, blinking furiously as he tries to sit up.

“You’re here,” he groans, a hand flying to his torso. “Is this a good visit, or just a hospital house call? Because my scars are killing me now that I’m home.”

You give a watery chuckle. “It can be both, if you like.” You pull the blanket aside, examining his puckered skin. The scars will stay for good, but that’s fine. You did always like it when Sebastian was roughed up anyways.

“You’re here.” Sebastian repeats, only this time it's softer.

“I had to go to the Leaky Cauldron to get your address from Clopton.” you admit, blue waves emitting from your fingertips as you try to take away some of the physical pain. “But yes, I’m here.”

“By the sound of our last conversation, I thought you were done. That we were just going to have to live with our mistakes.” Sebastian breathes.

“I wanted to say more, but there was something I had to do first.” you sit on the bed; Sebastian adjusts to give you more room, taking your hands in his. “I had to give back the engagement ring.”

“You did?” Sebastian asks hopefully.

“Seeing you…being around you for the first time in five years…” You’re trying to compound all of your feelings in a simple sentence, but it doesn’t feel like enough. “It made me realize I just didn’t love him.” You confess. “I shouldn’t feel the way I’ve felt seeing you.”

“Pet,” he murmurs, putting a hand to your cheek. “You’ve saved my life. I can’t ask anything more from you.”

“Then can I?” You ask, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes as you place your hand over his. Sebastian’s hand is warm and familiar, fitting perfectly against you.

“Ask me anything,” Sebastian echoes.

“Let’s try again.” you whisper.

Sebastian scoots over, making space on the bed for you. You don’t care if anyone else has slept in it over the five years you’ve been apart; something about the way Sebastian melts against your touch tells you he’s only ever belonged to you in the first place.

“Let’s try again.” Sebastian whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss to your lips. It feels positively electric, like it’s awoken something that’s been dormant inside you for five long, sleepy years. You take good care not to press too much of your weight onto a still recovering patient, but Sebastian does everything in his power to draw you closer. His hands start pulling pins out of your hair, the tight bun coming unraveled as he weaves his fingers through your tresses.

“You’re still healing,” you remind him as he starts working on the buttons of your dress. “And your sister is downstairs.”

“I don’t care,” Sebastian murmurs into your skin, tugging your collar down to press a kiss at the base of your neck. “We’ve waited long enough, haven’t we?”

You have, you think. So you let Sebastian ravish you with kisses, blushing when you hear Ominis loudly call up the stairs that he and Anne are leaving. You only leave the bed to unlace your dress, Sebastian eagerly watching as you strip the fabric from your body. He groans in a good way when you press kisses to his chest, fingers dancing across the scars on his chest. Not all scars would disappear, and there would always be reminders of the past. But it was good to acknowledge them, to know that they were there, and that they were healed.

The two of you stay awake the entire night reacquainting yourselves with each other’s body; the sun is streaming through Sebastian’s curtains when you realize you’ve been awake since Thursday night, running off adrenaline. Your eyes begin to droop as Sebastian presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Go to sleep, pet.” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

You’ll have to call in again, you think. You need an entire day of sleep after this week. And the next time you get to the ward, you’ll turn in your official notice, asking to move to the day shift.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x anne sallow #Auror Sebastian #Auror Sebastian Sallow #hogwarts legacy fan fiction #writing-intheundercroft #this one got a little out of hand #should I write a smutty part two?????

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fadingdaggerr · 7 months

Note

Can you make a fic based on my two fav melissa schementti fantasies

melissa calling reader by pet names and making them completely flustered x melissa making reader jealous on purpose

basically all this happens before they date/confess

and when melissa has had enough of reader not making any moves and hiding from her, melissa takes charge and ends up making out w reader.

i know this is a little difficult to write but tysm i really love ur fics 😭🫶🫶

wishful thinking

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above!

warnings/includes: ridiculously clueless!r and a not clueless mel, gary but only for plot purposes, making out

translations: gioia (joy/happiness), tesoro (darling/treasure), gavone (pig/slob)

note: i’m so sorry i haven’t been active. i’ve been dealing with a lot the last few months and haven’t had even a second to breathe. better note at the end <3

Melissa would never admit to anyone how much she liked the effect she had on you. She loved to watch your head duck down nervously when she complimented you or guided you along with a hand on your lower back. Every single time she left the light tremor of your body, but not once did she mention it. You were glad she couldn’t feel your heartbeat the moment her attention was on you.

—

The first time she noticed it changed her entire perspective on you.

Melissa wasn’t the kind to talk to the new hires, the turnover rates at Abbott were laughable and they never stayed more than a couple of months. But after a few months, she started to pay attention. Over time, she got to see just how much you really cared for the kids. She had stopped by to ask if you had an extra purple whiteboard marker, but she was met with the sight of you kneeling in front of one of your students, big, sad tears in her eyes. She could just barely hear the mutterings of I know it hurts sweetie and the one that made a little smile cross her lips, of course I have shark band-aids, what am i? A chump? She sees you start to stand to grab the bandage and decides to move now before she gets caught staring.

Right as she steps close to you, you rise and spin around. Your action staggers as you notice her form too late, and nearly falling as you try to avoid running into her, nearly. Strong hands grasp your upper arms, saving you from landing flat on your ass.

Your head tilts up to face her, finally registering that it was Melissa. It takes you a second to breathe before you let out a little, “thank you.”

“Of course, hon. My fault anyways,” she says with a small smile. There’s an almost too long pause before she realizes her hands are still on your arms, dropping them immediately to fold them across her chest. You’re almost in a daze just looking at her, but you have to keep up appearances.

“Did you need something?” You say with a soft smile. Melissa noticed how your eyes never left hers for a second after she called you hon, she also thinks that you’d never looked her in the eyes before then. It had never gone unnoticed that you always looked at her bangs or the frame of her glasses whenever you’d spoken before.

Interesting... Melissa thinks to herself.

—

And then Melissa began to see a pattern.

You’d given her the extra dollar she needed for her iced tea, four quarters stacked tails-up in front of her. She didn’t ask anyone, only sighed when she checked her purse.

“Thanks sweetheart,” Melissa said without really thinking.

Your eyes widen for a fraction of a second before you catch yourself, accompanied by a quick inhale. Licking your lips and averting your eyes from her, you quietly say, “yeah. of course, anytime.”

Barbara must notice Melissa’s intrigue suddenly and speaks up, “dear, why don’t you come sit with us? I don’t think we’ve gotten a chance to know each other just yet.”

This marked the start of yours and Melissa’s friendship.

—

“You got plans Saturday?” Melissa says as she pours a cup of coffee into her Tucci mug.

You look up from your phone and take a breath in, “I have lunch with my cousin at noon, but I’m free later on. Why, what do you have planned?”

“That flea market’s coming back around, the one with the good antiques and the petting zoo,” you almost speak but she cuts you off, “oh, and that apple cider you liked.”

You smile at her remembering that detail before responding, “yeah, that sounds perfect. I can text you when I leave the diner.” Your voice thankfully doesn’t seem to give away how nervous you were trying not to seem. You take a sip from your mug to hide yourself for a moment.

“Great. I’m looking forward to it, babe,” she says through a sip of her own coffee. She stays just long enough to watch you nearly choke on your tea, and then slips out to walk to her classroom with a satisfied smirk on her face.

—

At the development week meeting, she turned to see you looking around for a place to sit. When you miss her wave to get your attention, she decides to yell your name across the gymnasium to get you to look in her direction. Your head whips her way, a grateful smile on your face when you see her waving you over. She decidedly loves the shy smile that was reserved for only her.

Stepping over nurse Makiah to get to the free seat, you finally plop down next to the redhead. Something possesses Melissa and her arm moves on its own to rest across the back of your seat, hand resting on your arm. She feels you stiffen for a moment, almost thinking she’d overstep, but you relax into her touch.

“You didn’t have to save me a seat. These are prime real estate to bleacher-leaners,” you mumble to her as one of the eighth grade teachers goes on about something that wasn’t as important as her fingers tracing little patterns over your shirt.

Melissa chuckles lightly, squeezing your shoulder lightly. She leans in to answer, “but then I wouldn’t have you sitting here, tesoro.” Your eyes go to your lap as you fail to hide the smile from her words, making the redhead’s heart rate pick up.

“You’re too nice to me, Schemmenti,” you say as you lift your head, with what little courage you have, to look at her and smile, leaning into her for a second.

—

Then an idea struck Melissa

Tuesday was vending machine restock day. Tuesday was your new least favorite day of the week. Totally unrelated.

Gary, the vending machine guy, had started a habit of flirting with Melissa. He started with giving her a free iced tea straight from the truck, and then chatting, then complimenting, and then just straight up checking her out with no shame. Every time he entered the room, your voice died in your throat, and your eyes stayed trained on him with a special kind of hatred. You were at least thankful Melissa hadn’t noticed the rage you felt when he had a conversation with her breasts. Melissa, in fact, did notice.

She watched how you stared daggers into his back as he spoke to her, completely unaware of her attention flicking to you every now and then. Your fork angrily stabbed at the lunch she’d brought you, not a single bite being taken since the vendor walked in the door. The more forward Gary got, the quieter and angrier you became. Once he left and Melissa’s focus went back to you entirely, as it always was, your shoulders relaxed and the assault on the pasta stopped.

Melissa decides she has a theory to test. She plays into Gary’s flirting some more, enough that the man is clearly picking up on it, and your hand stills. By the third week, Barbara is begging her to go on a date with the man.

“Girl, he likes you. You should give it a shot, he’s a nice man. Handsome too,” Barbara says with enthusiasm. Your eyes roll as you look at your phone, trying to tune out this conversation. Your resolve cracks a little when Ava mumbles that’s generous in response to Barbara’s comment, a tiny chuckle espacing you.

The kindergarten teacher nudges your hand, “don’t you think she should go for it?”

You struggle with trying to not just flat out say no so instead you settle with, “yeah. Gary seems really nice.” The thin smile on your face is unconvincing to both women, and it’s easy to read on both their faces. You quickly grab your stuff and stand, “I’m gonna head back to my room and pass out their math quizzes. I’ll see you later.”

Once the door closes behind you, Barbara looks at Melissa, “what was that?”

Melissa just shrugs, feigning obliviousness.

When Gary finally gets the nerve to ask her out, she laughs and agrees. You think the gods above must have it out for you, not letting you escape any interaction between the two. The fork in your hand just stabs harder at the food in the tupperware. After watching with a tinge of regret, Melissa finally speaks up.

“You alright over there, gioia?” She asks, her voice filled with real concern. You look at her for a moment, considering what to say, but settle with a nod. When your gaze drops again, you miss her lips dipping into a small frown.

—

Monday morning after the big date, you realize that being in the lounge was a mistake. You should have known to go straight to your classroom, but the need to see Melissa overrode your actions.

As you walked in, everyone was facing Melissa and asking her about every little detail of the date. Where’d they go? Was the food good? Did he offer to pay it all or ask to split the bill? What did she wear? She gives them all they want to hear, and only Ava asks what you didn’t want to know.

“Cut the bull. Did you let him hit or not?”

A chorus of AVA! goes around the room.

The redhead just sighs before answering, “why did you say it like that? And no, I did not ‘let him hit,’ Ava.” You hate that some tension leaves your shoulders after that. The rest of the time is spent with your eyes trained at the floor and ringing in your ears.

Melissa regrets her idea a lot more when she stops seeing your smile altogether and your eyes stop meeting hers.

—

She finally snaps.

Janine had planned to make a whole outing for the Abbott crew, inviting everyone out to a new arcade-bar that Erica had told her about. She’d told Melissa that she should invite Gary, saying that everyone wanted to meet him in a social setting and not just in the ten minutes he was in the school every Tuesday. Inviting Gary couldn’t hurt, she reasoned.

Gary’s phone went to voicemail for the fifth time and all eight of her texts were unanswered. He said he would come, that he wanted to meet everyone for real, but now he was a no show. Melissa felt like a teenager again, getting stood up by her date to homecoming while she waited outside for him. She turned to walk back in, almost running into you as you were coming to check on her.

“Everything alright?” You ask, knowing the answer already since she can’t hide her emotions well when she’s upset.

She huffs a laugh, “peachy. Jackass said he would be here almost an hour ago and won’t return my calls or anything.”

“Want me to beat him up for you?” You ask jokingly, but there’s a certain hope she’ll say yes that sits in your chest. Your heart almost can’t handle it when she smiles at your words, arm looping with yours as she drags you to the pinball machines.

You’d probably lost a student-loan payment in quarters by the time either of you had even won a single game you played. In the course of two hours, both of you had only managed to get a collective hundred tickets that could maybe win you each an eraser. Melissa pretends to not notice you cheating in the driving games, and you pretend not to notice her taking quarters from your cup.

You watch an equally competitive Ava and Melissa play a scary-good match of air hockey, each of them likely to have bruises on their knuckles by the end of the night from how hard they played. Each time she scored, the redhead’s eyes moved to you for approval, and each time she’s met with a little applause and smile from you.

“Wasn’t your man supposed to be here? Or were the Kit-Kats not behaving?” Ava says when they finally take a break from the game to take a drink.

Melissa just shrugs, “he hasn’t answered anything. If the gavone decides to say anything, then he’ll be getting an earful, or a bat to the head. Depends on what he says.”

“Do you even like this idiot?” Ava asks incredulously, saying exactly what you’d been thinking for weeks since they’d had their first date.

Melissa shrugs, “he’s alright. The first date was nice, but the rest have just been him trying to get in my pants.”

“Well,” Ava’s brows bounced a couple times, “are you gonna let him in or not?”

You check out entirely before listening to Melissa’s answer, not even caring how suddenly you left the conversation, just letting your legs carry you until you could finally breathe. You find yourself back with the old pinball machines that no one but you and Melissa had played. Only a few seconds of silence manages to pass before you hear the muffled stomp of boots on carpet, stopping right behind you.

“You gonna tell me what that was?” Melissa asks with your back facing her.

You should have known it was her that would follow you. Part of you wanted to lie and say that the drinks made you feel sick, but you both knew that they were too watered down to even intoxicate a toddler. The other part of you just wanted to scream about how it should be you on those dates with her, driving her home and walking her to the door. You turned to meet her eyes and any courage you had left, feeling like putty when she was so focused on you and you alone. Even though you know what her response will be, you just say, “it was nothing. I’ll be back inside in a minute.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” she says, stepping closer, “you’ve been doing that a lot lately. Just... I dunno, just leaving. You can be in the same room as me and it feels like you’re miles away.”

Your gaze drops to your feet, suddenly feeling insecure now that you know she’s noticed your behavior. You put all your energy into stabling your voice and keeping your lips from quivering at the thought of upsetting her. All you can muster in a tiny voice is, “I’m sorry.”

Melissa surprises you by pulling you into a tight hug, whispering to you, “is this about Gary?” Your heart stops at her words, knowing you’d been found out. The lack of answer and the way your body stiffens tells Melissa everything she needs to know, what she already knew.

Melissa knows that you’ll likely try to explain away anything the second she loosens her hold on you, that you’ll run and she’ll never get this close ever again. So she does the only thing that she can think of at this moment.

As she pulls away, Melissa’s hands cup your face, pulling you into her lips. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as you feel her lips press against yours, soft and eager. After a moment, she realizes you’re not kissing her back, her heart cracking as she pulls away from you, ready to run. Her hands drop from your face, eyes blinking rapidly as doubt clouds her mind. Your mind catches up, realizing what had just happened. Melissa begins to turn to leave, but is stopped by your hand in hers. You tug her back to you, cupping her face and leaning forward to finally kiss her back.

She tasted like lipstick and watery vodka, her hands were warm against your wrists where they held tightly. Your mind was in hyperdrive as you took in her lips and her touch, hardly noticing her moving you until your hips met the game behind you. Melissa’s lips parted, her tongue brushing across your bottom lip to ask for entry. You were quick to allow her in, letting her dominate your lips as her hands dropped to grab at your waist. The taste of her lips and tongue became quickly addictive, the feeling even more so. Your hands migrate from her face to her hair, pulling her even closer to you as the kiss turns sloppy from the sheer desperation radiating from both of you.

Melissa’s hands grab at your hips harder as you tug at copper strands, cold fingers creeping under your shirt to rest against warm skin. The force of her body leaning further into you boggles the machine you’re pressed against making a loud buzzer sound and the automated voice yell just a quarter to play! The sudden noises make you both jump, breaking the kiss. Your eyes meet and you both stifle a laugh at the whole thing. Her lips immediately gravitate back to yours, this time softer. The smile you feel against your lips brings your own out, breaking the kiss again. You drop your head against her shoulder, basking in her presence and her hands on your skin.

“You knew,” is all you say, voice muffled against her shirt.

She smiles and rests her head against yours, “I did.”

“How long?”

“The whole time, give or take,” she’s a little surprised when your head pops up, almost smacking her chin.

Your eyes stare straight into hers, “and you said nothing?”

“You didn’t say shit either, don’t even start,” she says with a laugh, no malice hiding in her voice. Her only response is a grumble that sounds something like touché.

There’s so much love behind your eyes, it chokes her up. The way your eyes never left hers, something she missed in the last month, made her feel like the most precious stone. She looks at you for a moment longer before quietly asking, “can I kiss you again?”

The smallest smile crosses your lips as you answer in an equally quiet tone, “you can kiss me whenever you want, Schemmenti.”

feedback appreciated as always <3

note: again i’m sorry for not being active. i started school again and have been working full time while also being a full time student. i also had a death in the family that hit me very hard mentally and i had to take a step back as to not end up in the hospital. i’m going to try to be more active and take time to write more. thank u for being so patient. ilyvm

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #lgbtq #lgbtq fanfiction

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saleeba · 1 year

Text

silk sheets, silver tongue ; jude bellingham 🍓

summary ♡ jude can never resist you when you’re looking so pretty in a sundress.

pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+ (minors dni), smut, established relationship, p in v, praise, dirty talk, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, missionary, protected sex, no specific power play but maybeee a bit of dom!jude, porn with a poor attempt at plot, getting fucked in a sundress yessirrrr

a/n ♡ aaaaa this is my very first piece of writing on here!! >.< and trust it to be a smut lmaoo i might be speaking into the abyss here but i hope u guys enjoy tho pls lmk if u have any feedback <33

when jude proposes a holiday to málaga during the mere two weeks he has off from training, there is no way you’re going to say no to him.

so right now, the two of you are side by side at the hotel’s pool, lounging under the warm spanish sun, grateful to finally spend time together after such a busy season. a blush pink sundress is wrapped around your body, letting the slight breeze blow around the hem as a shirtless jude lays to your left, skin glistening from his time in the pool.

“i’m so glad we could do this, you know,” jude declares, turning his body to face you before his hand comes in to rub at your thigh. the sting of cool golden rings bites at your sun-drenched skin. “i can’t tell you how long i’ve waited to have you all to myself.”

you bite your lip, struggling to hold in a bemused giggle as you turn your own self to face him. “yeah? well, you have me now,” jude’s hand shifts higher under your sundress at your words, fingers innocently massaging your upper thigh, the pads occasionally dipping into the inner skin. this leaves you more flustered than you would like to have admitted.

“all of me.” you breath out, moving into the warmth of his toned body and feeling like you’re falling into him.

he catches you with his lips on yours, the softness of which contrasts heavily with his strong grip on your body, arms now wrapped around your waist, pressing you to him. the feeling of both factors drives you dizzy, your selfish needs now taking over.

you press your mouth hungrily against jude’s, not caring about who sees the two of you as you hoist yourself up with both hands on his shoulders, legs parted on either side of his thighs, lips still greedy for his. with jude focused on cradling you in his arms, pushing you onto his torso with one hand at your waist and the other behind your neck, you begin to slowly rock your core against his pelvic bone.

jude lets a groan leave his mouth and flow into yours, the vibrations getting caught in your throat before seemingly traveling down to your core. your underwear grows wetter by the second at the sounds coming out of your boyfriend.

“oh god, babe…” jude tilts his head back, your mouths finally drifting apart and making room for his breathing to get shallower. you immediately see the opportunity to peck and bite at his exposed throat, teeth sinking ever so slightly into the damp skin.

“b-babe, babe,” jude hurriedly says, gently pulling you off him by the shoulders. you immediately feel the reality of your environment settle in. oh my god, you think, how many parents, kids and families did you force to witness all that?

“i’m sorry…” you remove yourself entirely from jude’s embrace, embarrassment heating up your cheeks. “got a bit carried away.” you fiddle with your fingers, mentally scolding yourself for being so promiscuous in public.

jude shoots up from the sun lounger that the pair of you were previously situated on, taking your hand in one of his and squeezing your waist with other before he sincerely says, “hey, i just didn’t want them to see all this, they would’ve been too jealous over what’s about to go down.”

he pauses for a second, eyebrows knitted playfully. “or maybe i would’ve been too jealous of them seeing you like that.” he gives you a purposeful wink to which you return with an equally playful roll of your eyes and an amused smirk on your face.

“come on, baby,” jude pulls you along with him, the two of you exiting the communal pool and heading towards the hotel’s back entrance. “you’ve gotten me way too hard for us to not do something about it.”

***

the journey back up to your plush hotel suite is an agonisingly slothful one - although you guys have opted for the lift, it is on the 19th floor after all. jude’s quiet c’mon c’mons and constant pressing of your floor number has you laughing, not wanting to bring up the fact that the ache between your legs was growing in case it caused him to nearly break the damn button.

once the relieving ping of the lift sounds, signalling that you’d reached your destination, jude is quick to grab you by the hand and lead you to your room. no words are spoken between there and the door to your suite but the both of you know what to expect.

once the door is swung open (then shut) and before you can even utter a syllable, jude near throws you onto the bed. the coolness of the beige silky sheets catches you this time, mattress bouncing with the force that you’d been placed on the bed with. jude hastily presses his lips to yours in a desperate attempt to feel any inch of you on him, before parting your legs at the knees and pushing them back slightly, causing you to wrap them around his waist.

you both continue to kiss each other, mouths moving to a self-appointed rhythm, each of you letting out whines and groans that only spurs the other on.

jude pulls away from the sweet sensation of your lips, albeit reluctantly, but finds a compromise in boring his eyes into yours, face still barely an inch away from yours. his gaze is drawn to how swollen and kissed-out your lips look.

“let me make you feel good tonight, baby, okay?” he somewhat asks, somewhat demands, progressively running his hand up your thigh to your underwear and letting his fingers linger on the fabric. he steadies himself by touching his forehead to yours, eyes still staring into yours.

you gulp and give him a quick yet honest nod to which he replies with a deep kiss, thumb suddenly pressing onto your clit. his mouth is muffling all the mewls that are leaving your throat, your legs still wrapped around his bare waist and threatening to wrap tighter.

jude buries his face in the crook of your neck, nipping at it with his teeth and soothing it over with his tongue and lips. it’s your head that’s tilted back now, left to his mercy only.

“gonna make you feel so good, darling,” jude whispers on the skin of your throat, pressing light kisses to the area as his thumb continues to keep rubbing against the fabric on your throbbing bud. “gonna give my girl what she deserves.”

your breathing starts to get heavier, anticipation now bubbling in the bottom of your abdomen and spreading to your core, the aches from earlier still resonating.

“p-please, jude,” he reaches the top of your cleavage when you pant this out, your pink sundress still covering all the parts of you that he desires most at this moment.

“be patient for me, baby,” he gently commands, fingers now hooking into the waistband of your panties before they’re pulled off in one swipe and tossed to some corner of the room. “fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, i swear down,” he groans upon briefly catching a glimpse of your wet pussy before it’s covered by your legs closing as he steps away from the bed for a second, eyes just drinking in your beautiful figure on the king-sized bed.

without a word, he takes you by the waist and pulls you closer to the end of the bed, your legs dangling off the edge and palms flat behind you to sit you up steadily. jude pushes the bottom of your sundress up and bunches it around your waist, now fully putting your lower abdomen and wet pussy on display for him.

he gets on his knees right in front of the bed, face level with your sopping hole. “there you are, darling, hmm?” he hums, the tiny distance between his lips and your cunt making the sound waves travel straight through you. “all wet and ready for me.”

your breathing gets more rapid, chest heaving at this point and you’re desperate, so desperate to feel his lips, his tongue, his fingers, his anything on your needy cunt.

“jude, please!”

your whining makes him lift his head from where your pussy is to where he can see the near torment painted on your gorgeous face. eyebrows furrowed, lips pouting. you looked like a dream and there was no way he could deny you now.

he suddenly yanks you towards him, hands hooking around your soft thighs until your bottom half is hanging off the bed, legs draped over his shoulders and onto his back. the action makes his mouth latch onto the tense bud that is your clit as a high pitched gasp slips past your lips.

jude gets to work on your pussy, mouth ardently lapping up every drop of wetness his touch and his words have created. the feeling of his lips wrapped around your clit has your back arching off the bed, core pressing right up against the prickly scruff on his chin. the added friction has your toes curling in bliss.

you moan his name, one, two, three times and it does nothing but egg him on some more, tongue now slipping between your soaked folds and poking at your hole. the heightened sensitivity has your hand grabbing at his curls, the sensation in turn making him groan against you, the tremors of which have you moaning louder for him.

the room is filled with the gruff noises jude is emitting as he devours your sopping cunt - nose deep in the fleshy contours - and the breathy cries of jude, oh god, jude and ah ah ah coming from your parted lips.

the sounds you make are becoming more frequent and desperate and your eyes are squeezed shut, unable to comprehend how good jude is making you feel with his mouth, all this indicating that the bubbling arousal in the bottom of your stomach is about to tip over. jude, all of a sudden, stops.

“wh-what…?” you blink your eyes open, almost on the verge of tears over your climax being so cruelly snatched away like that.

jude says nothing, only getting up off the floor before pulling his white shorts down and stepping out of the fabric pool they leave around his ankles. he has no underwear on so you see firsthand how raging hard his cock is.

“‘m sorry, baby, you taste so good but-” he taps his seeping red tip on your pussy, still slick from his spit and your juices, the fluids combining on his cock and pulling off in a connective string as he brings his fist over it, jerking himself off for a second or two.

to you, it feels like multiple minutes. minutes where jude is indulging himself after denying you such a satisfying orgasm. you would’ve scoffed at the way he grunts out your name as he touches himself if it wasn’t for how absurdly hot he looked and sounded.

“just didn’t want you to cum so soon, y-yeah? w-wanted you to, ah, cum around my cock.”

he grits his teeth, hissing when he makes contact with the red hot feel of your cunt on his cock, taking his time to ever so slightly dip into the soaked slit.

“fuck, jude, hurry up,” you whine as he does anything but give you what you want. he’s now toying with the dress still gathered around your waist.

“have i told you how fucking stunning you look in this dress?” he pointedly ignores what you have to say, eyes heavy with lust and fingers still playing with the soft cotton material. a stray finger or two strokes the sides of your waist and you feel like screaming in frustration.

“i’m not sure how much i appreciate that compliment when you’re about to rip it off me.” you assume jude was going to pull off and throw your dress in some far nook of the room just like he did with your underwear. your tone is snarky too, a bitterness you think jude deserves after acting like such a dick.

“nah ‘m gonna keep it on, wanna see how good you look while i fuck you in it,” he smirks, watching how you visually gulp and avoid eye contact with him. your cheeks are burning with a mixture of fluster and excitement. you watch him as he retrieves a condom packet from the bedside table, taking his sweet, sweet time to walk back to the bed’s edge where you were suffering, legs still wide apart for him.

“now, you gonna let me give that sweet pussy what it deserves, hm? gonna let me stretch it out and fill it up with my cock?” he says all this without taking an eye off you, rolling the condom on without even looking at it.

his lewd words have such a heavy effect on you, your cunt automatically getting wetter and clenching around empty space. you can’t think of wanting anything other than jude’s thick length stuffing your tight pussy, anything other than his lips on yours, his fingers rubbing at your swollen clit right now.

“yes, yes, please give it to me, jude,” you beg him now, all forms of shame leaving your body along with these words. “i need your cock filling my pussy up, please, it’s yours.” you rake your nails up and down his biceps in an attempt to soothe your neediness and to also hurry him up.

jude lets a moan out at what you’re saying to him, the way you’re desperately babbling making him even more unbelievably hard. giving up on the teasing and deciding to fulfil both your wishes, he pushes his cock past your spit and precum-drenched folds with a strangled groan.

the sound that comes out of you is nothing short of pornographic. and it drives jude crazy.

he immediately sets a deep and fast pace, big cock pummelling into dripping wet pussy, the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin and the two lovers’ moans and groans mixing into the evening air.

“oh fuuuuck, y/n,” he can’t believe how good and tight and wet you feel around his hard length, your pussy only getting more soaked at his words. “it’s like you were made for this dick, baby. m-made for me, weren’t you?”

you plan to wrap your shaking legs around jude’s waist to bring him closer into you, needing every inch of his skin on yours, every inch of his cock inside you. but your boyfriend has other ideas. taking both legs onto his shoulders, he’s able to reach even deeper in your pussy as he strokes in and out of you, an unfathomable amount of dick now filling you up. you almost scream from the pleasure, nails now scratching at his thighs.

“s-so so good for me, baby, you’re doing so good, ah!” he struggles to get his words out, the tightness of your cunt on his cock having the same effect on his throat. he’s always been loud in the bedroom but tonight is showing a different side to him — his voice is more confident, unabashedly telling you how good he feels and how good you make him feel, and it makes you want to burn it onto a CD and play it on loop.

jude allows your legs to relax now, positioning them around his waist himself with you giving him a thankful stroke across his abs. the pace at which he fucks you gets faster, the straps of your sundress falling down your shoulder with the speed and exposing the top of your tits.

you’re scratching up jude’s back with the same ferocity he’s pounding your pussy, the pleasurable pain making the both of you nearly drool with how delicious it feels. the tight knot in your stomach threatens to come undone and you warn jude with an increase in the pitch of your moans.

“i’m so close, baby,” you mewl, gasping out for your boyfriend who captures your lips in a sweet kiss that differs so beautifully from the way he’s abusing your poor pussy. “please don’t stop, oh, jude, please cum with me.” you’re craving for release now but you only want to ride it out with him, any former feelings of selfishness being replaced with the desire you feel for your lover.

“i’m right there with you, angel, let go for me,” jude’s face is hovering over yours, warm breath fanning what feels like flames on your cheeks, the reward of a white hot orgasm so so close. his thumb regains contact with your now bare clit, stimulating it quickly. “cum around me, baby, cum all over my cock.”

you cum around jude not a moment after he says that, with a scream that can surely be heard 4 rooms down the hallway. the walls of your cunt spasm around his dick, which triggers jude’s release, his slightly higher than usual pitched moans muffled into your neck. his white seed spills into the condom and you can feel the weight and warmth of it in you despite the barrier, and the last stroke of his cock makes you shudder.

you collapse into the bed and let the sheets engulf you, bringing jude down with you too. the two of you don’t say anything, you just let each other pant out the remaining energy with shallow breaths.

jude breaks the so-called silence first. “that was fucking incredible,” he laughs breathily, kissing your cheek repeatedly. “mhmm, thank you, thank you, i love you.” he nuzzles his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder, leaving small kisses along the skin.

“jude!” you chuckle at his post-nut clinginess, trying to remind him of the fact that he was literally still inside you and that you both needed to clean up.

“noooooo!” he whines upon hearing your demands but still slips out of you and disposes of the condom before face planting onto the bed, right next to your tired self.

you let out a small gasp at the feeling of emptiness and close your legs tightly, rubbing your thighs together as they burn from the different positions jude had held them in.

“ugh, jude, i swear we’re not doing rough sex for at least 3 months now, my thighs can’t take it,” you complain, attempting to massage them but giving up in sheer exhaustion.

jude sniggers, pulling himself up to rest the side of his head on your left thigh, leaving a loud mmwah on the sweaty skin with his lips. “okay but how long really until we go at it again?” suggesting that neither of you can resist the other.

“i’m serious, jude!” you swat at him, playfully.

“yeah, yeah, round 2 in the shower?”

“JUDE!“

#˗ˏˋ 📝 ˎˊ˗#jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x fem!reader #jude bellingham x y/n #football imagine #footballer imagine #footballer smut

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hungermakesmonsters · 29 days

Text

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Twenty-Five

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Chapter Rating : R - smut

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smut and extreme cuteness. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : ~5.2k

A/N : The final chapter. I really hope that this lives up to people's expectations.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The trip from the hospital to the penthouse left you feeling exhausted and, by the time Billy was helping you change into your pyjamas you were struggling to keep your eyes open. His touches were slow and delicate, treating you like you were the most fragile and precious thing in the world. And, you could tell from the little looks he shot you that he was still blaming himself for everything.

A soft sigh slipped from your lips as he helped you into bed and covered you with the duvet.

“You okay?” He asked in a quiet, subdued tone.

“Still a bit sore,” you admitted, “but I’m glad to be home.”

“Home,” Billy repeated, smiling. “This isn’t exactly how I wanted you moving in to go, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here too,” you sank back in the pillows a little more, “I’m glad we can just be together now.”

“Me too,” he fell silent for a few moments, watching as you struggled to stay awake. “Do you want to get some rest? I could -”

“Can you stay with me?” You asked, eyes suddenly wide open. “Can you hold me? I’ve missed you holding me.”

“Of course I can.”

You watched as he quickly slipped out of his red sweater and jeans, stripping right down to his boxers before rounding the bed and climbing in beside you. There was noticeable hesitation as he edged towards you, his arm carefully slipping over your chest so he could hold you.

“Is this okay?” He asked.

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” He muttered softly, smiling as your eyes finally closed.

“Love you Billy.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

After a few hours of sleep, you felt a little bit better. Billy was still beside you, scrolling through his emails on his phone. When he noticed you were awake, he smiled.

“How are you feeling? Need me to get you anything?”

“A glass of water would be great,” you answered, “and something to eat?

Billy gave a nod and quickly got out of bed. You watched as he left the room, phone in hand. He was only gone for a couple of minutes, you heard him making a call, obviously ordering dinner before he came back with your drink and handed it to you. Then, after a slight hesitation, he got back into bed with you.

“Can we talk about it?” You asked cautiously, after taking a drink. “Scott, I mean...”

“Why?” He tensed.

“I don’t know, I just -” you weren’t even sure what you wanted to say to him, what you wanted to ask, “- we didn’t get to talk about it at the hospital. Are you okay?”

“He’s not the first person I’ve killed.”

“It’s not the same; you were a Marine in a warzone. This is -”

“Murder,” he filled in the blank without hesitation, without remorse.

And, maybe that should have bothered you more than it did; Billy had killed a man for you. Admittedly, not a great man, and certainly not one that you were going to miss in any way, shape or form. But a life was still a life and you were certain that neither of you should feel happy about it.

Billy took a slow breath.”Look, you don’t need to feel guilty about any of it. I would have killed him even if you told me not to.”

“It’s not guilt, it’s just - I dunno, Billy. A man is dead because of me...”

“You could have died because of him,” Billy answered back without hesitation. “He tried to kill you twice. He called you a whore, said you weren’t worth it.” There was no missing the bite in his tone, or the way his hand curled into a fist. “You are worth it. You mean everything to me -”

“Billy -”

“No, I’d kill a hundred men like him if it meant keeping you safe. I’d burn down the whole fucking world just to protect you.”

And you knew he would. With anyone else you’d think it was hyperbolic, you’d think he was just saying what he thought you wanted to hear, but not Billy. That was the wonderful and tragic thing about him, about the way he loved you; it was a lot, it was everything he had, every ounce of himself. You’d never change that about him, and you’d never want to. That was Billy. That was the man you loved, and loving him meant accepting him.

So, you nodded and reached for his hand, gently prising his tight fist open so your fingers could slip between his.

“Okay,” you told him, and that was that.

It wasn’t long before your food was delivered and you couldn’t help but laugh that he’d chosen to order pizza, just like he had the first night he’d brought you back to the penthouse. You sat together in bed, eating pizza and watching TV until you finally fell asleep again.

Hours later, voices outside the bedroom woke you; Billy and Sam.

“Look, I appreciate what you did for her, but I think it’d be better for everyone if she came back to Connecticut with me,” you heard Sam say. “She needs people around her to look after her.”

“She has people here,” Billy answered. “She’s not going anywhere.”

“You can’t expect me to leave my sister here with a killer.”

“And you can’t expect me to let her go with the man who allowed that piece of shit to keep breathing after the first time he tried to kill her,” Billy replied. Your breath caught, torn between listening to more and calling out to stop them from fighting. “Anyway, I’ve seen your service record, you’ve got blood on your hands too.”

“You think I didn’t want to kill that fucker -”

“I think you had every opportunity and you didn’t. I won’t let her go with anyone who’s not willing to do everything to protect her.”

“I know you think you love her, but -”

“I do love her, and there is nothing I won’t do for her,” you could hear the edge in Billy’s voice, the anger that he was barely managing to hold back. “Look around, look at the life I can give her; she’ll always be safe, she’ll never want for anything. You want to take that away from her? You want to take her away from everything that she’s achieved here? Her friends, her new job?”

A silence followed and you didn’t dare breathe in case you missed something.

“You don’t know her like I do,” Sam stated and your heart sank a little but you didn’t get time to dwell on it.

“I know her better than you do,” Billy was quick to answer. “You see her as some weak little thing just because she’s your sister. But I don’t. I see a woman who’s not scared to put me in my place when I fuck up, someone who’s been through so much and has kept going. She’s carried the guilt for your sister’s death for years, even though it was an accident, a stupid mistake. She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met and if you can’t see that, then you don’t know your sister at all.”

Before that moment you hadn’t thought it was possible to love him more, but you soon felt tears welling in the corners of your eyes.

There was another silence before you finally heard Sam relent.

“Fine, but if you ever hurt her, I’ll kill you myself.”

“If I ever hurt her, I’ll let you.” Billy quickly countered and you could hear just how serious he was.

There were some more muttered grumblings between the pair, but the tone had changed and both men seemed to have resolved their differences. Sam muttered something about coming back tomorrow to say goodbye before leaving town again and, then, when everything had fallen silent, you assumed that he had left.

You didn’t mention any of it to Billy when he came to bed later that night, and didn’t in the days that followed; it didn’t matter, there was no way you were going to go to Connecticut with Sam, not when everything in your life was finally perfect.

Sam insisted on staying in the city a little while longer, wanting to make sure you were going to be alright before he travelled home. He came by to see you most days and, slowly but surely, the tension seemed to ease between him and Billy, and they were able to stand each other enough to make small talk without either getting snippy.

Your heart was racing when the police arrived at the penthouse unexpectedly a week after you came home from hospital. Billy and Sam insisted that you weren’t ready to see them, that you were sleeping, but you managed to get yourself out of bed and made your way out of the bedroom.

The second you did, Billy was at your side, taking your arm.

“You don’t need to -”

“It’s okay, Billy. I’ll be fine,” you told him, letting him help you towards the sofa. “I need to tell the police that I’ve remembered what happened.”

Everyone, the police included, seemed a little taken aback by the comment, but no one tried to object. You sat, grimacing but trying not to let it show how sore you felt - the last thing you wanted was for Billy and Sam to worry about you. Before you started, Billy insisted on getting you something to drink, which in turn led to getting drinks for both of the officers, Sam, and himself.

The two officers sat opposite you, offering up their names and a few pleasantries before finally getting down to business.

“You said you’ve remembered what happened,” the younger of the two officers asked, a boyish looking man who had a friendlier face than his older partner, “would you be able to walk us through it, everything you remember from leaving Mexico right up to the incident?”

You nodded, discreetly trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Billy sat beside you and you soon had his hand in your own, held on your lap.

“We had an argument,” you glanced at Billy briefly, “Billy surprised me in Mexico and I thought - well, I thought he was there to propose to me,” at that Sam almost choked on his coffee, “but he wasn’t. It wasn’t a big argument, it was silly really, and I was embarrassed.”

Billy’s hand gave yours a gentle squeeze.

“I decided to come back to New York early because of it. I wanted to finish packing up my old apartment so we could move in here when Billy got back, and I wanted us to have a day or two apart so I could get over my embarrassment,” you shrugged uncomfortably but managed to force something of a smile to your face.

“I took a taxi home from the airport, had something to eat, then I was about to try to get a couple of hours sleep when someone knocked on the door,” your voice cracked. You tried to lean forward to grab your mug from the coffee table, but winced as pain lanced through your abdomen.

“Here, sweetheart, let me,” Billy reached for your mug as you sat back and, when he handed it to you, you caught something almost helpless in his eyes. “You don’t have to do this now if you don’t feel up to it.”

“It’s fine. I want to tell them what happened,” you told him, taking a quick sip of your coffee before continuing.

“You heard the knock...” the older officer prompted.

“I thought it was just a delivery or something for Tammy - Tammy was my roommate - but it wasn’t,” again your voice threatened to break. “It was my ex-boyfriend Scott Hendrix.”

“And did you talk to Mr Hendrix at all? Did he say anything to you before he shot you?” The younger officer asked, furiously scrawling in his notepad.

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, feeling Billy’s hand twitch in yours. “He told me he wanted money, he said he owed someone money and he thought I owed him.”

“And why did he think that?” The older one asked.

“He blamed me for his life falling apart,” you gave another awkward shrug, trying to ignore the pain in your side. “He went to prison for a DUI after crashing his car with both of us in it, the judge gave him a harsher sentence because I was badly hurt but -”

“She wasn’t just hurt, he was trying to kill her,” interrupted Sam. “She wouldn’t testify because she was scared of him and his family.”

The officers looked at you and all you could do was nod to confirm the story.

“He tried to kill me because I wanted to leave him; I’d had enough of the drinking and the drugs. So, when he showed up and demanded money, I knew that was what it was for. He got angry when I said no and pulled a gun,” you looked down for a moment at Billy’s hand in yours. “He told me they were gonna kill him if he didn’t get their money -”

“Did he say who they were?” The younger one interrupted.

“No, he just said he owed a lot of money and, he figured, because I was with Billy I could get it for him. I told him no and tried to close the door, that’s when he -” when your voice broke again, Billy decided to intervene.

“Is there anything else you need? She needs to rest,” he stated, his grip tightening but this time not loosening even a fraction.

“How did you get that bruise on your cheek, Mr Russo?” The older cop asked, eyeing Billy for a second.

“I gave him it,” Sam answered, reminding everyone that he was still in the room.

“And why was that?” Asked the older officer.

“Because my sister had just been shot and I was looking for someone to take my frustrations out on,” Sam shrugged.

There was a moment of silence as both officers glanced at each other, as if deciding what to say next.

“You should know that we found where Mr Hendrix was staying in the city, as well as recovering a gun - it’s being tested at the lab to see if it matches the weapon that was used to shoot you,” the older cop explained. “Mr Hendrix was nowhere to be found.”

“What do you mean nowhere to be found?” Asked Sam.

“You mean that prick is still out there?” Billy added. The pair of them deserved an Oscar nomination.

“There was evidence found at the scene to suggest that Mr Hendrix had been badly injured, though we won’t know for sure until we hear back from the lab but, I can give you my assurances that the NYPD are looking for him.” The younger cop told you, offering a soft smile, as if he wanted to try and make you feel better about the thought that Scott could still be in the city.

“We’d offer to put a uniform on your door, but it seems like Mr Russo already has that covered,” added the older guy with a glance in Billy’s direction which, in turn, led to you looking at him.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Billy offered.

“Anyway,” started the older cop, draining his mug of coffee and placing it down before reaching into his jacket for his card, “I think we’ve got everything we need. If you remember anything else, my number is on the card. And if Mr Hendrix tries to contact you -”

“He’ll wish he didn’t,” Billy stated, letting go of your hand and getting to his feet. “We appreciate you stopping by, officers, but she really needs to rest now.”

The officers stood, muttering their goodbyes and telling you that you didn’t need to see them out, but that didn’t stop Billy from following them and making sure they got on the elevator.

“What the fuck that?” Sam asked around twenty seconds after the elevator doors had slid shut.

“What was what?” You asked, feigning ignorance.

“That - lying to the cops,” he sounded annoyed. “Have you got any idea how much trouble you’ll be in if they figure out you lied?”

“What was I supposed to do? Wait until they find something that might lead them back to Billy?”

“Sweetheart -” Billy tried to interrupt.

“No, you protected me, now I’m protecting you. Scott took enough from me, he’s not going to take you too, Billy. I won’t lose you,” you told him.

“You won’t, sweetheart, I promise you won’t,” he told you, sitting beside you and placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

“We protect each other,” and that was how it was going to be from now on.

You felt a little better with each passing day but Billy continued to dote on you, barely leaving you alone for a moment, even after Sam had decided you were well enough for him to return to Connecticut. He did his work from home, hadn’t been to the office in over two weeks, but as much as you loved having him around, something was missing.

Him.

All of him.

He was treating you like some fragile thing with delicate touches and the sort of softness that felt like he was barely there at all. Of course, you understood he was being careful because he loved you, because he didn’t want to risk hurting you or causing you any sort of pain, but you knew it wasn’t doing either of you any good. He sated some of your longings with his fingers, and you’d given him more handjobs in the last few weeks than you had in almost eight months of being together, but you needed more.

You both had needs, but you were coming to realise that Billy wasn’t going to be the first to act, so you decided to take the initiative. You slipped out of the bedroom in nothing but a silk robe, finding him on the sofa. His eyes followed you as you approached and grew wider as you dropped the robe to the floor and climbed onto his lap.

Before he could even think to question you, you were kissing him desperately, pressing yourself against him and slowly starting to rock your hips. Billy easily lost himself to you for a few wonderful minutes and you felt him start to grow hard in his pants, but it didn’t last.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he muttered against your lips, sighing but not pulling back.

“Then be gentle,” you retorted before capturing his lips again.

For a few moments he was content to kiss you, his hands running up your bare thighs to your hips, then your waist, but the feel of the dressing over your injury caused him to pull back again.

“I - I don’t know if I can be gentle.”

“You can,” you told him softly. “I don’t want you to fuck me, Billy, I want to make love.”

His breath caught and, for a few seconds, all he could do was stare at you awkwardly, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what you were asking him for, like something about your suggestion worried him. Your hand found his cheek, and you held his gaze.

“I don’t -”

“You do,” you told him softly, reassuringly, before taking his hand and slowly getting to your feet.

Billy rose slowly and let you lead him to the bedroom, where you slowly undressed him, running your hands over every inch of skin that you exposed. Once he was naked, his fingers lifted your chin and he just stared at you for a moment before, finally, kissing you. He held you close and carefully moved you onto the bed, placing himself on top of you, keeping his weight on his arms at your side.

Hesitation was etched on his features as he broke the kiss and stared down at you.

“You won’t hurt me,” you told him. “I trust you, Billy.”

His hips lowered and you felt the tip of his cock graze your clit and, after weeks of nothing but his hand between your legs, it made you shiver. He hesitated for a few seconds, but the moment he was pressed against you, the moment he could feel how wet you already were, he knew he couldn’t stop.

A long, relieved exhale escaped you as he finally started to move. The feeling of his cock pressing into you after so many weeks without it felt heavenly, and Billy’s soft groan told you he felt the exact same way. He moved so slowly that you could feel every inch as he filled you, and once you’d taken him all, he lingered long enough that you could feel him throbbing inside you.

Any discomfort you felt was forgotten the moment his hips started to draw back, your body already trembling beneath him.

“Billy -” you moaned, your fingertips pressing into his back.

Once he was certain that you weren’t in any sort of pain, he started to move with a little more purpose, not in his usual fast or rough way, but in a way that let you experience every single sensation.

“I love you,” he muttered breathlessly against your ear, lingering there and letting you feel every shallow breath against your skin, hearing every time his breath caught and every little groan.

“I love you too, Billy,” you moaned, angling your head so you could capture his lips in a kiss.

Your moans got louder, swallowed by Billy’s lips. Everything about it was perfect, everything was Billy. Fingers slipped into his hair and you heard him groan his approval, his lips pulling into a smile against yours.

“Mine,” you told him when your lips finally parted.

“Yours. Always,” he told you. “You feel so good...”

“So do you,” you moaned as he filled you again, your walls trembling and squeezing around him the closer you got to climaxing.

It was like nothing you’d ever felt before, a level of connection with him that made you feel like nothing existed outside of you and him and the moment you were sharing. His movements got a little faster the closer you got and, from his barely restrained groans, you could tell he wasn’t going to last much longer either.

You moaned his name as you came, your whole body shivering with a pleasure you didn’t even know how to completely process. A few seconds later, he was following, twitching inside you as he emptied himself.

“Fuck -” he grunted, the movements of his hips turning awkward before finally stilling.

He leaned, his forehead against your and his eyes shut tight. You ran your fingers through sweat-damp hair, smiling and waiting for him to open his eyes. When he did, you could tell he was at a loss for words.

“That was amazing,” you decided to break the silence.

“I love you,” was how he chose to respond, pressing his lips to yours in a brief but wonderful kiss.

The room was slowly turning dark around you and, as much as you’d wanted everything that had happened, you felt exhausted. Billy slowly pulled out and moved to lay beside you, gathering you in his arms so you could rest your head on his chest while his hand gently stroked your hair.

Your eyes closed and you let out a slow breath as everything turned still and silent around you. Minutes ticked by, the steady drumming of his heartbeat almost lulling you to sleep. His hand in your hair had fallen still and you assumed that he’d fallen asleep. Everything about the moment was perfect, it was how you wanted to spend the rest of your life.

Then you heard it.

“Marry me,” he whispered softly.

It sounded like he was testing the words, like he was trying them out to see how they sounded. You wanted to answer him, but the words wouldn’t come; he wasn’t asking, not really, he thought you were sleeping. So, you kept your eyes closed and, eventually, drifted off to sleep.

The next morning you woke to find Billy in an infectiously happy mood - obviously he’d needed last night just as much as you had. He made you breakfast in bed before surprising you and telling you that he was finally going to go back to the office. It felt like everything was going back to how it should be; you were feeling much better, he was going back to work, and in a week you’d be starting your job with The Bulletin. It was perfect.

Billy left for work and you spent the day relaxing with a book, before throwing together a casserole in the kitchen for the pair of you to have for dinner - as much as you’d been enjoying Billy taking care of dinner since you’d gotten home, you were starting to get bored of take out. Once everything was ready, you returned to the armchair in the bedroom, alternating between reading your book and watching the sun set over the city.

He was later than expected getting home and, when you heard the elevator, you expected him to call out. Instead there was silence. It was enough to have you anxiously getting up from your chair and heading out to see why he was being so quiet.

You found him standing awkwardly, looking at the floor, a serious expression on his face. Your heart skipped a beat and dread started to coil in your stomach.

“Billy, what’s wrong?” You dared to ask, making your way towards him.

The suddenness of your voice startled him, and he looked at you like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

“Nothing,” he managed in the most unconvincing tone, making you panic even more.

“Is it Scott? Did the police find something?” You stopped in front of him, worry written across your face.

“No, it’s not -” he looked at you for a moment before forcing a breath. “It’s not that. It’s - I need to ask you something.”

Your heart stuttered, remembering his whispered question the night before, and all you could do was nod, not knowing what you could possibly say. Billy took a moment and, for a second, you thought you could see fear in his eyes, like he was scared about what was about to happen.

“I know we haven’t known each other very long,” he started, his eyes fixed on yours, “but this last few weeks has shown me that I can’t go back to living without you. I don’t want a life that doesn’t have you in it.”

Despite his obvious nervousness, you felt your lips pulling into a smile as tears started to well in the corners of your eyes.

“I love you,” he continued, “more than I thought I’d ever be able to love anyone, and that’s never gonna change.”

Your heart almost stopped when he slowly got down on one knee and pulled a ring box from his pocket. His trembling hands opened the lid to reveal the ring inside; simple, delicate and elegant. Perfect.

“I know I fuck up sometimes and I piss you off, but I’m willing to spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy,” he looked up at you expectantly, even though he hadn’t actually asked.

Wiping your eyes, you smiled down at him. “Ask me the question, Billy.”

“Sweetheart, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” the word was instant, not even needing to think about it or consider any of it. Maybe it was crazy, but you’d been through more with Billy in the last eight months than most couples went through in a lifetime.

“Really?” His question, the confusion and relief in his voice, was enough to have you dropping to your knees in front of him, taking his face between your hands.

“Yes, Billy.” You told him again. “I will marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

His hand took yours, sliding the ring onto your finger. A perfect fit. You leaned forward to kiss him, tears of joy streaming down your face.

“I love you,” he told you softly. “We don’t have to marry straight away, we can have a long engagement, we can do whatever -”

You pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“Take me to bed, Billy.”

A blink of an eye later and you were on your back in bed, Billy’s greedy lips and tongue on your pussy, driving you insane. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you could see the diamond ring every time you looked down at him. Crying out as sank his fingers inside you, and trembling as he sucked your clit. Even though Billy tried to take things slow, with teasing and measured movements, it had been so long since he’d gone down on you that you came after only a few minutes.

He lifted his head and smiled up at you, his lips and chin glistening, though he seemed hesitant and you could guess why.

“Don’t you dare ask me if I’m okay,” you warned playfully. “Just get up here and fuck me.”

Billy didn’t need to be told twice. He moved up your body like a predator and, when you reached for him, you could feel his taut muscles beneath your hands. God, you wanted him. You’d never stop wanting him. And just one look from him told you that he felt the same.

He kissed you as he slid inside you, and you held him tight, moaning against his lips. When hips started to move, you could tell that he was still holding back. You moved beneath him, meeting his thrusts, silently begging him for more with every shift of your hips.

“Billy -” you moaned against his lips, you fingers curling in his hair again, “- I said fuck me.”

He started to move a little faster, sinking himself deeper with every stroke, his cock filling you in a way it hadn’t for weeks.

“Such a needy little pussy,” he muttered against your lips. “It’s all mine now.”

His lips moved to your neck, sucking and nipping at your skin, driving you wild. And still - still you wanted more. Everything. You could hear him muttering and grunting against your neck, the word ‘mine’ leaving his lips, over and over.

“I’m yours, Billy,” you moaned breathlessly, “forever.”

You pulled at his hair, causing him to lift his head from your neck so you could kiss him as you came for him, moaning into his mouth as your wall clenched around him. It was enough to drive Billy over the edge and soon you felt the steady pulse of his cock as he filled you.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you moaned as he came, holding him tight as he stilled deep inside of you.

“I love you,” he told you between panted breaths, lingering inside you long after he’d finished, not wanting to sever your connection. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Epilogue

END NOTES : I don't know what to say. Honestly. When I started this I expected maybe three of four people might take an interest but I've honestly been overwhelmed by all the likes, the reblogs, and the comments; it's really made this a joy to write. While this is the lat main chapter of the story, I will be posting an epilogue next week and, in future, I might do some one shots with with reader and Billy. But, ultimately, after everything I wanted them to have a nice, happy ending and I hope you all enjoy that.

Thank you so so much for for those who have been following for the last five months! ... I know, it really has been five months and my mind is blown. This is the longest, consistent writing project I've ever undertaken - for context, altogether, this fic is about 110000 words and 220 doc pages, which just sounds insane.

ANYWAY. I'm rambling. Tune in next week for the epilogue. And thank you again, whether you like/comment/reblog or just read along every week. You all made this such a wonderful and fun experience for me!! I will have a little update next week after the epilogue when I decide what I'm going to do next on this blog. Have a great weekend!

If you want adding/removing from the tag list let me know (I know it’s not working for everyone - if it’s not working and you don’t want to miss a chapter, I post every Friday around 7:30pm gmt)

TAG LIST

@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley @slayerofthevampire @rensolodriver @lovelydoveval @doloreschanal @damagelove @danzer8705 @unlikelystarlightcowboy @schlotzshewrote @bisexualbith @uncontainedsmiles @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lilliesofmay @billyrussoslut @readingabouthim @arwensloanebarnes @scarlettrikstr @daughterofautumn @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @rosesintj @bunnygirlwriter876 @maddiedrmr @naabbie @arieltwvdtohamflash @yukimaniac

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #cmiyc ff #billy russo imagine

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just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms · 6 months

Text

Title: Atta Girl

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word count: 1,330

Warnings: dirty talk, no actual smut but a definite lead up

A/N: I’ve never written Hotch before, so please be kind. I apologize for no editing, the idea came to me and I immediately wrote it on my phone lmao Enjoy! Feedback appreciated!!

Tagging @ssahotstuff and @hotchscvm because I recently discovered you guys and love your fics (hope it’s okay I tagged you!)

———

Pulling into the motel parking lot the team exited their SUV’s, grabbing their bags and slowly walking towards the rooms. Each of you were at the brink of near collapse from exhaustion, so everyone agreed to whatever lodging was closest.

“Alright, get some sleep. We regroup around 8am.” Hotchner looked over his shoulder.

“Come on Hotch,” Morgan groaned. “Give us a break, man.”

Hotch stopped and took in the teams exhausted faces. “Okay, I’ll give you a break. 8:15am be ready.”

“Such generosity,” Emily laughed.

“Reid, Morgan, Dave, you’re all in room 7. Emily, JJ, Garcia, you’re all in room 8. Y/N,” he turned to you. “You’re with me. Each of the rooms can only sleep 3 with someone taking the couch.”

“Fine.” You didn’t argue and walked past him. “But if you snore I’m sleeping in the car.”

Walking into the room you both gave each other an exasperated look. The beds were tiny. There was a table and chair in the corner that looked like it would collapse any second. And neither of you wanted to be there, but also didn’t have the energy to verbally protest.

“I’m going to feel huge in this bed.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his words. “What?”

“Um, in a different context that was kinda dirty.” You started to laugh again and Hotch ran his hands over his face.

“Must everything be dirty?”

“When it’s going to be funny, yeah.” You gave him a quick smirk and turned back to your bag. But it’s also a good option when you want to get a topic going.”

Hotch paused, staring down at his own bag. “Which one is it?”

You paused. “Right now? Funny.” You paused again. “But that’s just right now.”

Hotch let your words sink in and before he could respond you were the first to speak.

“Shower?” Hotch turned at your words. “Do you need it right now because I’m gross as hell.”

“Oh, no, all yours.” Hotch turned back to his bags to unpack his things.

You got the shower running and were halfway through shampooing when you heard a knock. “Y/N? I…”

“Yes?”

“I really, really need to pee. I’m sorry.” You could tell the mortification on his part through the door.

“You’re fine! Come in. I grew up with one bathroom so I’m used to it.”

As the door opened Hotch tried to keep his composure. “I am sorry.” You could tell he was hesitating.

“Um, you do remember I was a nurse for 5 years right? This is nothing.” Your words helped him relax.

While you finished rinsing your hair you were extremely aware of the fact that only a thin curtain stood between the two of you. You were completely exposed, and in a way so was he.

You could hear him wash his hands and leave the room. Quickly finishing you toweled off, threw your hair in a second towel, and wrapped yourself tightly making sure it wouldn’t fall. Grabbing the door handle you opened the door. “Bathrooms free.”

Hotch grabbed his things and walked over. As you moved to leave, he was coming through the doorway. Your chest brushed against his and your towel started to slip. As your hand flew to grab the towel, Hotch stared down at you, focusing on your face.

“That’s the second time you’ve been ‘inappropriate’ tonight.” Hotch’s eyes never left yours. “I’m starting to think you were trying to start a conversation earlier.”

Unsure of how to respond you moved through the doorway and turned to him. “Glad you’re finally catching on,” you smirked and walked away. Hotch took a deep breath and closed the door.

You grabbed a tank top and underwear and right as you covered yourself you heard the door open. “Can I come out? I forgot something.”

“Yeah no problem.” You answered not really realizing the level of undressed you were.

When Hotch turned the corner, he stopped mid-step, completely caught off guard. You didn’t even realize it until you felt his eyes on you.

“Oh, shit. Sorry. It’s how I slee-“ but you couldn’t finish your sentence. Standing there in nothing but a towel you took in his body. His large frame, his arms and shoulders, chest and torso.

“You good?” Hotch smirked, taking a few steps towards you.

“Um, respectfully,” you paused. “No way I could have guessed you looked….well this good under your suit.” Each of you let your words hang in the air. Hotch slowly started walking towards you.

“What caught your eye first?”

“I think…your biceps.” Your mind raced to give a reason. “You could really throw a girl around.”

In one motion Hotch crossed to you, grabbed your arms, circled them around his neck, and grabbed both your legs at your thigh to wrap around his waist. You buried your face in the base of his neck as you tightened your grip around his waist. Without a word he walked you to a wall and as soon as your back hit, he pulled his head back as you let yours rest against the wall. His eyes studied your face. Pupils dilated, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and chest rapidly rising and falling.

“You’re right. I can throw a girl around.”

“Show me.” You challenged.

Hotch smirked. “First I gotta make sure you’ll be worth it.”

It was your turn to smile. “Oh I promise…I will be.”

“I knew you would.”

Finally breaking the tension you pulled his lips to yours. You held the kiss, neither of you moving for several seconds. When the kiss finally broke, you each pulled back and smiled.

“Fucking hell Y/N.”

Hotch pressed his lips back to yours and this time the kiss was deeper. Your tongues slowly met and you tangled your fingers into his hair as your grip tightened on the top of his back. He dug his nails lightly, but firmly into your thigh with one hand and brought the other to tangle in your hair at the base of your head.

You needed him to know you were all in, but also you weren’t going to let him run the show. At least not right away. Getting a good grip on his hair you pulled his head back. You dragged your tongue up the side of his neck before resting your lips right next to his ear.

“You take on too much, and are in control too often. Let me show you what a good girl like me can do to you.”

Hotch’s breath caught in his throat before he let out a soft, low laugh that made his chest rumble. It was his turn to fist and pull your hair, exposing your neck to drag his tongue across your pulse point. His lips rested at the base of your ear and he paused to collect himself.

“You will be my good girl…however,” his hand let go of your hair and moved in one smooth motion to lightly grip your throat, “you will also be my dirty little slut, just for me, and show me every trick you have. I will take control when you edge me to the point I have no choice but to stop you so that after I make you cum again,” his grip tightened around your throat, “and again,” his grip tightened more, “and again, I will force you to the point you are literally begging for me to rail you until you nearly black out you cum so hard on my cock.” His hand let go and went back to grab your thigh. “Understand?”

Your head was spinning. Your pussy was tingling. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to kiss him or drop to your knees right then.

“I understand completely…sir.”

“Atta girl.”

He let you down slowly to your feet. His towel falling away as you slid down his body.

“Now,” he took a step back. “Show me how my perfect good girl will be my dirty little slut.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds #aaron Hotchner fics #criminal minds fics

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cocogum · 2 months

Text

My honest reactions of episodes 5 and 6 (part 2)

PART 1 : HERE

(‼️ SEASON 4 SPOILERS ‼️)

Okay I just HAD to devote the full Alibert inn scene from episode 5 here CUZ WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT YUGO GOING BACK TO EMELKA!! I know I already mentioned Chibi and Grougal (as well as the tree Tofu tower) in part 1 but part 2 will basically be about all the rest of the inn scene cuz tumblr couldn’t let me have more than ten images per post (I know the site apparently lets u have more but I always use the phone for it so shush.)

But first, we finally get to see Alibert again after all those years 💕

Alibert. Sweetie. Baby. You can take care of two (technically four) kids with the addition of a freaking INN, you COOK for the customers, AND, ON TOP OF ALL THAT, you’re the MAYOR of EMELKA, that same place where you run the inn and take care of your adopted sons.

You do much more than just “taking care of an inn”, you got three jobs AND you’re still sane. You’re three in one, a whole package, props to you king. He’s such a boss ass man I love him 💕💕

NAH MAN

Not these ppl trying to avoid the inflation 😭😭 I don’t blame them tho. I would’ve said the same thing lol.

(Also is the wine a call back to Gustavio? Plz it would be so funny if the reason why Alibert is angry is cuz these ppl are saying how “bad” it is just so the prices can stay the same but also because he’s mad that they’re calling Gustavio’s wine “disgusting” even if they were all just trying to make him not raise the prices!)

Love how Yugo doesn’t say that same shit to Ruel after all those years of cooking for his ass and never getting anything from him.

Like even the whole Brotherhood calls Ruel a “cheapskate” but the only time where we see Yugo say that same shit is when he says that to his own CUSTOMERS?!?

Gurl bye Yugo’s such a silly little hypocrite!! 😭😭

OMG THE WHOLE FAMILY’S BACK TOGETHER!!

Adamaï get your stupid lizard ass over here.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen these two just laughing and hugging like this 💕💕💕

Also, Ankama tried being very slick with Az and his wife.

Nah cuz how can you not see these two and not think about Yugo and Amalia?? Does the thought never come to mind or what??

They literally give off the same energy, how did no one say anything before???!!?

THESE LITTLE TOFUS ARE OBVIOUSLY A SILLY PARALLEL TO THESE TWO AND NO ONE CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE.

Okay now the next part of the Alibert inn scene is very important to me so listen.

Recently, I came scrolling on @moths-are-better’s recent posts about Yugo and I came up on the one where he drinks the “milk” that was in the cup in the scene below.

But like-

@moths-are-better STOP LYING TO YOURSELF THIS IS CLEARLY WINE!!!

Look at all the other people drinking in the inn before they left: they all had that same kind of cup, insinuating that they were drinking wine (and also cuz they confirmed it was wine while trying to avoid any possible future inflations with Alibert).

I just love how Ankama deliberately shows us small scenes like this to remind us that Yugo can do adult things even though he looks like a kid. Because THIS is one of those scenes! Just look at how Alibert quietly pulls the cup of wine away from Yugo as soon as the guy starts ranting about his problems.

That’s clearly not milk lol I just love your delusions @moths-are-better 💕💕

But not only did this scene made me realize that nothing can stop Yugo from doing adult things despite how he looks, it also helped me realize that Yugo is the type to only drink when he’s having problems. We clearly see him about to drink more while ranting to Alibert before he carefully pulls the wine away from Yugo cuz he KNOWS Yugo would drink more just for that.

That level of attention to detail is amazing and I’m so glad I managed to catch up to the hints early on.

Alibert be looking like Yugo’s bartender AND therapist in just that moment alone lol

Ngl I would’ve loved to see a drunk Yugo if he had been able to drink more before Alibert intervened.

‼️ EVERYONE ‼️

👏 BE👏 LIKE 👏 ALIBERT 👏 ❤️❤️

This is making me wanna have kids too man….

His caring and calming attitude towards Yugo and the way he just treats him, cares for him, and acts like a responsible parent during all these years really makes me wanna do the same thing someday. Alibert is so good at his job(s) that he’s even beating a freaking goddess. Let that sink in. (actually any good parent like Alibert would beat the Eliatrope goddess’ parenting easily lol)

Alibert is genuinely so sweet, patient, thoughtful, and understanding of Yugo. Like even though he just heard Yugo say he finally found his true family, Alibert doesn’t take his words as insults and would rather just let him spill out all of his words to him.

When I said I missed these two like this, I really meant it. This inn is not only where Yugo was raised in but it’s also Yugo’s comfort place.

My ass knows this is foreshadowing.

It just knows.

Older Yugo where u at? We need to talk.

Ankama’s gonna ruin this family and laugh about it while eating some croissants.

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lovedbybella · 8 months

Text

infatuation (pt. 2)

miguel o’hara x female!reader

warnings: profanity and a whole lot of nsfw content

summary: being miguel’s assistant, you always thought the two of you had a good thing going. and everything was great… until it wasn’t.

word count: 3.1k

authors note: apologies for how long this took, it’s been super busy. i also wasn’t sure what direction i wanted the story to go 😭 enjoy <3

part one here

NSFW MDNI

Following Miguel’s visit, your planned movie night with Peter quickly turned into a rant session. You explained the entire situation to him, all your frustrations and feelings spilling out. He was on your side, of course, and demanded that you get both the justice and explanations that you deserved.

The following morning, despite your racing thoughts, you knew you had to speak with him. The challenge, however, was that Miguel appeared to be actively avoiding you.

Your first attempt at speaking to him was unexpected. You showed up to his office early in the morning using your employee card to enter, but surprisingly, Lyla had restricted your access, claiming Miguel wasn’t there. An obvious lie, Miguel lived and would probably die in that office.

Your second attempt was even worse, you had seen him walking towards his office. You left whatever you were doing abruptly, following after him to finally talk, but he noticed you, and locked you out, making Lyla explain some bullshit excuse about why you couldn’t enter.

You had had enough though, and went back in the evening. You simply overrode the system using Miguel’s access codes he had given to you years ago when you were first hired. He obviously hadn’t bothered to change it, especially because part of him hoped you would come back.

You enter the office abruptly, catching both Miguel and Lyla by surprise. Lyla excuses herself as you ignore his questions about how you got in. You make your way up to his platform, feeling a plethora of emotions, anger & confusion included.

“Are you insane?” you start, walking directly up to him. You cross your arms, clear anger on your face.

He stays silent, waiting for you to continue. He knows how badly he’s fucked up, and how much he’s going to have to work to earn your forgiveness, but right now, he’s just glad you tolerate him enough to come to his office and yell at him.

“You think you can show up to my apartment, spew some stories, mess with my head, and just expect all to be forgiven?” You ask both angry and confused.

His eyes scan you, before he turns, giving you his full attention, “Of course not” he replies.

“Explain yourself then,” You say firmly.

“You were right. About everything, you were right, we did have a really good thing, and I fucked it up”

“That you did.”

“Your birthday. I don’t even know where to begin, of course I didn’t forget. And I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am, because that’s all I am, I’m sorry”

You stay silent, waiting for him to continue.

“You are wonderful, you’re a wonderful assistant and an even better person. I know I don’t show it but you make this place a lot better, and I’m sorry that I’ve been treating you horribly these past few months. I let my fear of letting people get the best of me, and you didn’t deserve that at all.” He states, his voice more sincere and apologetic than you’ve ever heard before.

You nod, not one of forgiveness, but understanding. Of course, you were still upset and probably would be for a while, but the countless apologies were beginning to work.

“You do realize that I’m not going to forgive you just based on that, right?” You ask.

“Of course I do,” he says quickly, “I’ll make it up to you, in so many ways, I promise”

You nod again, before making your way over to a seat next to him. His eyes watch you as you sigh quietly, a little afraid to bring the rest of what he said up.

“Miguel” you begin, his features distort, showing the surprise from the use of his name. He sits on his desk, face turned towards you, quiet and waiting.

“Did you... mean what you said yesterday?” you continue, “With the dress… and the whole I can’t get you out of my mind thing?” you ask tentatively. “You weren’t just saying that to get me to come back right?” There's a hint of insecurity in your voice. You were sure you could probably recite the entirety of what he admitted yesterday, considering the words had been ringing nonstop in your mind for the last day. The minute you realized the affection you held for your boss crossed the realm of professionalism, you were so quick to suppress your feelings, certain there was no chance he could ever feel that way about you. To hear the exact opposite of that was a shocker, nonetheless, and you’d yet to wrap your mind around it completely.

“I meant every word,” Miguel says looking directly at you, eyes and words more serious than you can even describe.

The confirmation shakes you a bit. You immediately look away from him, too flustered to maintain eye contact. Your mind races through all the possible ways you can tell him you feel the same way before you decide that actions speak louder than words. You finally look back at him, standing up, Miguel watching your every action. You make your way in front of his sitting figure, the two of you finally eye to eye. You’re hesitant, the air in the room heavy as the two of you converse without speaking. Miguel seems to read your mind, and he interlaces your fingers with his. The action gives you the confidence you need, and you finally lean in, interlocking your lips with his.

He reciprocates almost immediately, his loose hand coming up and burying itself in your hair. There was an undeniable tenderness in the way Miguel’s lips moved, another apology, a silent one. The presence of both a softness that spoke of regret and an intensity that demonstrated just how wide the depth of his affection for you was. You pull away, your breath uneven and the kiss almost too overwhelming for you. You don’t step away, the two of you still impossibly close. Miguel makes no move to kiss you again, but he can’t deny the fact that the simple action has his head spinning. He wasn’t kidding when he told you how desperate he was for you, you truly never leave his mind.

You decide right then and there that you’d have time to continue to be mad at him later. Right now, all you wanted was his touch, everywhere. You’d been longing for it for months, and to have him at your expense was not an opportunity you were willing to waste.

“You’re going to make it up to me?” You ask softly, your eyes diverting from his to the rest of his body.

“Absolutely” he responds, his eyes boring into you with an intensity you’ll never get used to. You’re first to make a move, your touch deliberate, seeking out the warmth of his body and the rhythmic beating of his heart beneath your palm.

“I want a raise” you start. You had shown up to his office in your regular clothing. A tank top to be exact, you casually let one of the straps slip off your shoulder, a subtle gesture conveying a silent invitation for more.

The action doesn’t go unnoticed by Miguel, who watches silently before making himself look back at you. Every movement from you, no matter how small, sends a surge of longing through him. His obsession for you borders on madness, every gesture simply a tormenting reminder of his insatiable desire. He doesn’t hesitate before he replies.

“Done.”

“And I want you to move my desk back to where it was before” you continue, slipping off the other strap.

Miguel can do nothing but nod, completely mesmerized by your movements. His voice was dampened by his pure desire for you. You take advantage of his dazed state, mind muddy at your understanding of just how much he wants you. You kiss him again, this time far more intensely. He deepens it, his teeth grazing your lips causing you to quietly groan. His hands grab you, pulling you closer to him by the waist. He takes the opportunity to flip you over, laying you down, your back flat against his desk, peering up at him through your lust-filled eyes.

In a split second, he’s at you again. Placing soft but eager kisses down your neck, he captures your lips again, unable to get enough of you. This is all he’s dreamed of, all you’ve dreamed of. It’s almost impossible to believe it’s finally happening. This was the last scenario possible when he thought of what would happen when the two of you finally had a real conversation, so to say he was pleasantly surprised when you began initiating was an understatement. He knew this would do nothing toward getting him off the hook, but he wanted to show you just how sorry he was, and he was grateful, very grateful.

“Fuck” you hiss as his kisses get lower and lower. Your top is completely off now, Miguel’s hand practically ripping your bra off next. The cold air nips at your skin, but you’re far too turned on to care. Miguel’s hands move lower, spreading your legs apart at the knee. You’re dripping, both in anticipation and for him. His hands toy with the band of your shorts before he looks up, a silent plea for permission.

“Let me show you how sorry I am” he begs, voice husky and laced with desire. You can only nod, not trusting yourself to speak. He wastes no time, gesturing for you to lift your hips before he easily pulls down your shorts, underwear coming off with them. You’re completely bare against his desk. Your boss’s desk. The realization is bizarre enough on its own. The sight of Miguel on his knees, for you has you going insane. He looks heavenly, eyes lustful and hair rattled, it was a a picture you wanted engraved in your brain forever.

His hands grip your thighs tightly and he wastes no time as he licks a stripe up your slit. To him, the taste of you is absolutely divine, his red eyes glaring as he loses himself in you. Your sounds quickly fill the room, thighs clenching around his head as you lose yourself in pleasure.

“And lastly,” you start, voice breathy as you continue your demands from before, “From now on, you’re bringing me coffee every day.” Miguel chuckles lowly, head still in between your thighs. The vibration of the action sends tingles up your spine, only pushing you closer to the edge. His nose brushes against your clit as he continues to eat at you mercilessly, giving you that much-needed friction.

He continues, sloppy wet noises filling the room. You grab onto his hair tightly, causing him to groan. You’re too lost in yourself to notice, legs closing in firmly around his head as you attempt to handle what he’s giving you. He takes his hands, roughly splitting your legs apart once again. He lifts his head, eyes glossy and face wet with your slick he looks at you, it takes everything in you to stay silent at the image in front of you.

“Stop closing your legs preciosa, ‘m not done” he mumbles before diving back in. You moan, both at the sight and his voice. You’re not sure how much more you can take before you completely unfold. He nips at your clit, puffy and wet. His thick tongue is ruthless at your holes, and you honestly don’t think you’ve ever felt better than you do at this moment. You’re in a whole other world, the only thoughts you can even comprehend are how amazing you feel and how grateful you are for the man whose experienced tongue is responsible for it all.

“Miguel” you start, unable to pause long enough to get your words out, “I’m so close” you call out, your words hardly comprehensible in between the whimpers that spill out of you. He doesn’t indicate that he heard you, only picking up his pace, tongue lapping at you at a rate you didn’t even think was possible. With one final swirl, you’re unraveling around him, eyes closing in pure bliss. Quiet moans spill out of you as you start to come down from your high.

Miguel peels away from you, eyes watchful of your heaving chest and the hair stuck to your forehead with the glistening sweat that’s formed. The sight makes his cock twitch, and in a mere second, he decides he’s not done with you. He gives you no time to recover before he’s sliding one of his fingers inside of you. The motion catches you off guard, everything a thousand times more intense considering how sensitive you still are. Your previous orgasm does nothing to prepare you for just how thick his fingers are. You don’t even want to think about what it’d be like to have all of him inside you. His pace is unforgiving, sliding in and out of you like there’s no tomorrow. His eyes are latched onto you, watching and listening to every twitch, movement, and sound your body makes.

His other hand comes up, rubbing your clit. You’re slightly overstimulated, but the initial discomfort washes away as waves of pleasure begin to overtake your body again. Miguel can’t help but groan at the sight of you, he truly was willing to do whatever it took to get you to trust him again.

“So fucking perfect” he groans his praises, his pace still relentless. You whimper quietly in response, your mind a puddle of nothing as his fingers fuck you dumb. Almost embarrassingly so, it’s not long before you're approaching your end again, the nature of the situation a little too much for you to handle. Miguel places a soft kiss on your inner thigh. The action is so intimate, and you can’t take it. Before you know it, you’re coming undone once again, your pussy clenching around his fingers tightly.

“Fuck..fuck” you cry out quietly, body shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. Miguel pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty. He leaves momentarily, and you take the opportunity to try and sit up, shakily of course. He’s back with a towel in an instant, cleaning you up as you wince slightly at the action, still way too sore to be touched.

There’s a tension in the room, not an uncomfortable one, but one where you’ve both realized your relationship has crossed a line you’ll never get back.

“That’s hell of a way to make it up to me” you joke, trying to get rid of the silence that has fallen over the room. Miguel gives you a small smile, handing you your clothes back so you can start to get dressed.

“I hope you know that wasn’t my apology to you, I have a long way to go,” he says seriously, eyes boring into you.

You nod, pulling your shirt over your head in understanding. “I know” you reply quietly.

Miguel comes to stand in front of you. He looks down at you once again, hand coming up to caress your face lovingly.

“I really am sorry, I don’t even know where to begin, I’ll be apologizing for the rest of my life if I have to” you hear the genuine sincerity and apologeticness in his voice. It brings you a sort of relief, to know the Miguel you knew before all of this was still there.

“And I’m completely in love with you if you couldn’t already tell,” he says humorously, bringing a little more light to the conversation. You laugh softly before bringing your hand up to the one he has on your face, interlacing your fingers.

“I love you too if you couldn’t already tell,” you say honestly, a hint of teasing in your voice. Miguel laughs again, eyes yearning for you as he comes to understand just how lucky he truly is. He had a long way to go, but he was willing to do whatever it took if it resulted in your happiness and forgiveness.

The following day, you woke up with your heart feeling a little lighter. Peter had suggested the two of you get breakfast, insisting he meet you at your door so the two of you could walk together. The action was a little out of the ordinary if you were being honest, but you didn’t think too much of it.

Your head is down as you walk into the meal space, getting distracted by a noise your multidimensional watch keeps making. When you finally look up, you’re met with the faces of the entirety of the Spider Society. A huge “Happy Birthday” banner with your name is hanging from the ceiling, and there are tables and tables of food and sweets all over.

Your face breaks out in a smile. Yes, your birthday was 2 weeks ago, but the gesture was nice nonetheless. You look at Peter, who’s smiling back at you.

“So? What do you think?” he yells over the loud cheering the space now holds.

You laugh, unable to stop smiling, “This is great, what is this?” you yell back.

“Miguel organized it, I helped, of course. He said something about ‘winning you back’, you should probably go find him” he explains, leading you farther into the space.

The amount of “happy birthdays” you hear is insane. You look around the room, spotting multiple violations of Miguel’s safety rules that on any other given day, would’ve driven him insane. You smile, reveling in just how much he cares about you.

You spot Miguel across the room, and you walk, making your way up to him.

“Hey,” you say softly, “You planned this?” the huge smile is still evident on your face. He looks at you, admiring just how beautiful you are, before returning your smile.

“With a little help,” he replies, humor in his voice. His heart warm at how delighted you look.

“This is insane Miguel” You look around the room once more, before looking back at him, “Thank you,” you say.

He gives you another tender smile before grinning, “Just wait till you see what I have planned for your half-birthday”

The confession takes you by pleasant surprise, “My half-birthday?” you laugh, “Miguel, no one celebrates those”

“Guess we’ll be the first” he teases

You smile once again, “Thank you,” you say sincerely.

“Am I forgiven yet?” he jokes, looking down at you.

You smile, peering up at him, “You’re getting there, I still need my daily coffees”

He laughs, “Good enough” he replies, and the two of you turn away, looking back at the crowd.

You’re first to break the silence, and you turn back to him.

“Miguel?” you ask. He looks at you, a small smile still plastered on his face, always happy to hear your voice.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to need my job back.”

tags: @happishark @prettysbliss @thel0velykey190 @saltykidcreation @chabelis @coffee-winter-and-silence @thesecretwriter @bitterprecious @leahnicole1219 @kyler11718

(just tagged everybody who commented)

#miguel x reader #scared i wrote him out of character but wtv #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #peter b parker

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twistnet · 1 year

Text

family gatherings [ bradley bradshaw ]

⋯ SUMMARY ; it’s the first time in years that bradley’s actually had family to celebrate the holidays with

⋯ WARNINGS ; female!reader, general fluff [ mention of icemav, found family love, hugs + sweet kisses ]

“are you ready to head inside?” you question, a tupperware dish still warm and seated in your lap as you look over at your fiancé. he seats in the drivers seat, a white knuckled grip still on the steering wheel of his beloved bronco -- the same grip he had the minute the two of you have backed out of the driveway.

your question, however, seems to break him from his thoughts and his head turns to find your curious eyes, “yeah, just thinking...” he mutters before quickly trying to reach around to exit the vehicle to avoid a confrontation, but he should really know better than to try and hide what he’s feeling from you.

as you reach over to grab his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles, “about what?” you ask, trying to be as gentle as possible -- knowing the holidays can be a time of sadness depending on the situation with ones family.

bradley thighs heavily, “just... it’s been years since i’ve been at their house. all the holidays i missed because i was so upset with them. i don’t know... just feel like i’ve got so much to make up for. all cause i wasn’t here.” bradley vents, twirling his thumbs together as he struggles to get the words out. honestly, he was feeling so many things and the thought of coming over for the holidays had driven him almost insane since mav had extended the invite.

he had worked to make everything perfect -- like he had to impress them all over again. to get back into there good graces. even thought mav and ice had already welcomed him back into their little family with open arms the minute bradley had been told the truth and forgave them both.

the reflection of light swaying back and forth had caught your eye, and you managed to catch a small glimpse of man’s head peaking through the shut curtains to where bradley had parked the bronco -- almost as if he was waiting to see if the two of you were actually going to come in.

“well, if it makes you feel any better, i’m about ninety-five percent sure man’s having the same dilemma as you.” you don’t miss the smile that comes across his smile as he finally looks up at you, “and what makes you say that?”

“because him and ice have been not-so subtly glancing out of the living room window for the past few minutes -- i think mav’s waiting to see if you’re going to change your mind and leave.” for a brief moment, bradley glances towards the window to confirm and chuckles lightly at the sight ice attempting to remove the smaller man from the curtains.

“then we better get inside before he worries himself to death. and i’m sure ice isn’t helping.” and with a nod, the two of you exit the bronco and bradley gently guides you up the steps towards the kazansky-mitchell residence -- a place that hadn’t changed much since he left.

you nearly giggle to yourself when the door lurches open before a firm knock can be laid against the wood, mav and ice’s bright smiles greeting you both, “we were starting to think you weren’t going to show!” mav exclaims, pointedly ignoring the cold glare from his husband as he ushers the both of you in.

“i’ll take that from you.” ice states, pointing to the dish in your hands before whisking it away to the kitchen. bradley helps you get your things settled before following mav in the direction ice had gone -- chatting excitingly the entire way about all the stuff they had prepared for the rest of the guests.

said guests, stood chatting idly in the kitchen before greeting you both with a bright smile. bradley recognized the lot of them -- having been ice and mav’s top gun graduating class and basically family at that point. bradley introduced you to each one, making a point to use their titles before giving them a smile and hug.

a man, slider, had dropped a drink into your hand with an old smile, “glad to have you both here. we’re all just happy to have baby goose back home.” and a round of cheers follow as you turn to face your fiancé.

“baby goose?” you smile, teasing him slightly as a blush creeps up towards his cheeks and his head ducks down in embarrassment, “i had to have a callsign before actually joining the navy, babe. and i was a baby goose back then.”

“you still are a baby goose.” another utters, causing a round of laughter before mav nods, “and he always will be. nothing going to change that.” the sentiment is sweet, and you nuzzle into bradley’s side as conversation flows around the room.

at some point, the two of you separate, and you end up in a conversation with one of the wives, who tells you all about the different things to expect -- more so after seeing the ring on your finger.

at the call of dinner, most of the room rushes into the kitchen to fill their plates. you and bradley linger back, reconnecting for the first time in about an hour. a sweet kiss is pressed to your lips as an arm tugs you in at the shoulders to lean against him. “are you glad you came?” you question quietly, overlooking the room with a bright smile. bradley nods, “i wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

blog navigation ⇢ [ top gun masterlist ]

#top gun #top gun x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick imagine #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #female!reader #twistnet #twistnet works 2022

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annaraebananawriter · 1 year

Text

Going Back the Way We’ve Come

Yelllow there everyone! I actually hadn’t planned on writing anythin g for the Dream Tournament, but here we are. I saw ‘angst potential’ and was drawn in like a moth.

Now, while not the best thing ever, I had fun writing this. I hope you have just as much fun reading it.

The Dream Tournament was hosted by @nashdoesstuff, so be sure to go and give them some love. They did a wonderful job and it was very fun!

Happy reading!!

Fandom: Undertale/UTMV

Characters: (Original) Dream (Who belongs to Joku), (One Small Dream) Nightmare, (One Small Dream) Dream (Who belong to @calcium-cat) and mentioned Ink (Who belongs to Comyet), mentioned Bad Sanses, and mentioned Blue (Who belongs to P0pcornPr1nce)

Warnings: No major ones that I can think of. Let me know!

Summary: “It’s the finale of the Dream Tournament. OSD!Nightmare has finally caught up to his brother. He just wants to go home, but OSD!Dream wants to finish something first. While wiating, Nightmare has a conversation with OG!Dream. (UTMV, OSD!Nightmare Sans Centric)”

Word Count: 3273

~oOo~

Nightmare gazed up at the tree, black apples on one side and golden apples on the other, both glistening in the sun. Around him, there was grass and flowers and trees, much like how there was in his childhood before the villagers arrived.

Of course…when he finally catches up, they��re back at the beginning.

How symbolic.

Gritting his teeth, he moved forward. If he found Dream soon, then they could leave without lingering; the sooner they left all of this in the past, the better. He had never wanted to come back here for as long as he lived. It felt like a nightmare to be here. He wanted to leave before he was forced to talk with the ‘original’ Dream. Depending on when he was from, it might not be too bad, but if he was from any time after the Apple Incident…

Well. They just better get home fast.

“…and then Nighty found me and re-reassued me and it was all good again.” Dream’s voice faded in, and he found himself relaxing. At least this should be the last dimension they arrive at. They can go home now.

Good. He needed a nap.

“Reassured.” A smoother, deeper voice said, making Nightmare freeze. He knew that voice like the back of his hand. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

“Yeah. Nighty’s the best brother ever.”

A laugh. “I’m sure he is.”

Swallowing, he chose to ignore all the complicated feelings assigned to that voice and pressed on. He arrived at the tree and stepped around it until he encountered two figures sitting by the base of it. One young, one older.

One was his Dream. He recognized him anywhere.

The other…

Inhaling, Nightmare called, “Dream?”

Both figures looked up, but his gaze was fixed on his brother. Dream blinked, something in his hands, and then beamed.

“Nightmare!” He ran up to him, then paused a foot away. “Wait. You are my Nightmare, right?”

Laughing a bit, he knelt. “Yes, I am.”

“Nighty!” Dream exclaimed again, hugging him.

He hugged back, letting himself soak it in. Once Dream let go, he kept him close, looking him over. “Are you alright?”

Dream nodded. “Mmhmm! I’m good. And I’ve made lots of new friends, all versions of me. One was a giant mermaid. Did you see? I hope you got to meet him. He was really cool. Then there was a couple that were goopy like you are, which was also pretty cool.” Taking a breath, he pointed behind him. “And then there’s him, who’s like, the original? I think? That’s what the others called him, anyway. And we’ve been making flower crowns and talking and…”

As Dream continued his tale, Nightmare looked at the other skeleton in this world. He had wanted to just keep ignoring him until they left, but he could only ignore being stared at for so long. When he turned, the other immediately looked away, in hopes of not being caught, fiddling with his flower crown.

There he was. He looked just like Dream had before the suppressor malfunctioned, clothes and all. And yet, at the same time, he looked different. Most of it wasn’t physical, invisible things he could swear weren’t there before. Or maybe it had just been too long since he saw his brother like this. This version had the crown and cape, but his movements were quieter, trained to be blending in. He had scars across what looked like every surface of visible bone, light shadows underneath his eyes. His aura was muted, though he couldn’t tell if that was this Dream’s doing or this worlds.

Seeing him again this way brought back some shadows of the anger he had. They were only wisps of emotions, things he hadn’t had time to resolve. They wanted him to do something, to finally fulfill his word from what felt like years ago, way back in the cell.

But Nightmare pushed them away. This is not his brother, he reminded himself. He looks the same and acts the same, but he’s different. He is different. This is the original. This is not his brother and he will not treat him as such.

Perhaps they should go home now.

He cleared his throat. “Dream.”

His brother cut himself off. “Yeah?”

“Are you ready to go home?”

“Uh.” Dream turned and looked around the world as he thought. “I think so…wait. Wait!” As Nightmare waited, he ran back to where he was sitting, picked up his crown, and came back. He was frowning. “I never made you a flower crown. I was going to once I got done my current one, which is for Orie, but I’m still slow at making them so it’s taking a bit and then you got here and I got distracted.” He looked up, pleading. “Can we go home after I make your crown?”

Nightmare inhaled. He wanted to say no. He really wanted to just be home already. “I’m not sure—”

“Orie won’t mind.” Dream turned to the other Dream—Orie? Short for Original? It was…creative, that’s for sure. “Can we stay for a little bit?”

Orie looked up, blinked, and smiled. “Of course. Though, you may need to pick some more flowers. I’m afraid I used quite a bit with mine.” He did sound genuine, lifting his crown to show him.

“That’s okay. Your crown is amazing. Use all the flowers you need.” Dream reassured, happy. He handed his crown to Nightmare. “I’ll be right back.” Before he could protest, his brother ran towards the flowers across the field.

Huffing, he crossed his arms, tentacles flicking in annoyance.

“You are welcome to take a seat.” The other Dream—Orie—said, sounding hesitant. “It might be a bit before he’s back.”

He refused to look at him. “We aren’t staying long. Once his crown is finished, we’ll be out of your hair.”

Orie laughed. “I have no hair for you to get out of anyway. And I really don’t mind. You can stay for as long as you need, or want. It’s nice to have some company.”

Nightmare wavered before sighing. He sat down, one arm braced on his knee.

“The villagers…?”

“They don’t exist in this place. I don’t think this world is even my home. I’m not sure about yours. My mother was cut down during…well, you know what I mean. I think this place is a mix of both our homes, in hopes of making us both comfortable.” Falling silent, he grabbed a flower and weaved it into his crown, voice lowering. “And if the villagers had existed here, I don’t think I would like to talk to them that much.”

“Aren’t they your friends?” Nightmare wasn’t able to cut all of the bitterness out of his voice.

“They were. Remember, even though I may look like him, I am not your brother. I am a version of him, as you are a version of my brother. Your Dream mentioned a tournament of Nightmare’s, similar to this one. I’m sure you already know that. My story is different than yours is, no matter how similar they may be in text.”

Nightmare said nothing back, just watched his brother pick flowers and get distracted by something, crouching down to poke at it—an insect, probably.

“If I may?” Orie started. When Nightmare hummed, he continued, “Why is your brother a child? He gave a brief explanation, but I feel there’s more to it.” Nightmare was silent for long enough that he added, “You do not have to tell me if you do not want to.”

A beat passed.

Then, Nightmare closed his eyes. “No, it’s fine.” He sighed again, leaning back. “You’re right. There is more to it. I captured him as an adult and held him in a cell for a bit. My plan was to get a magic suppressor from Sci and have Dream drink it. It would make it so he couldn’t use his magic. Couldn’t escape. Couldn’t…fight back. I was going to torture him and make him pay for what he did to me.”

Remembering who he was saying this to, he shifted uncomfortably. Orie made no move to tell him to stop. He looked away anyway, gazing at his brother. “It didn’t go as planned.”

“Turned him into a child.”

“Yes. And he’s been living with us ever since.” Now it was his turn to hesitate. “There…I did ask Sci to make an antidote, but…”

“You are having doubts about using it, turning him back.” Orie finished for him. It seems that, different version or not, Dream always knew what he was thinking.

And he was usually right.

Nightmare quieted.

Orie followed.

From across the field, bright laughter sounded.

Orie shifted. “Nightmare,” he said. Nightmare twitched at the sound of his name, half turning. He couldn’t make himself go all the way. A hand fell onto his shoulder, and Orie continued when he made no move to shove him off. “While I cannot speak for your brother, both versions of him, as we are different people, I am still a version of him, as he is a version of me. Don’t take my words now as cement, but…I can take a guess and say that I believe your brother—the adult Dream—he would be absolutely elated to be given a second chance with you.”

Confused, Nightmare met his eyes, making Orie smile. “As said. Different worlds, maybe, but we are still versions of the same soul. It’s only a guess. But from my memories and feelings, and taking what you and the little Dream have shared with me, I believe your brother would not mind being with you again. Sure, maybe he doesn’t remember all of the hardships you put each other through, and maybe that would be a bittersweet thing, he is with you again. You are brothers again. I think that is all that would really matter to him.” His smile widened, turning into something with an emotion he couldn’t name right now. “It’s a wish fulfilled, I’m sure.”

It's a wish fulfilled.

Was that really true? Could it be true? His brother as he existed as an adult was no longer able to talk for himself. He had no way of knowing for sure. But Orie said it with such conviction, that he wanted to believe it. That if he could ask him, his brother would want to stay with him as a child, even with no memory of the past to understand how they got here. They were together again, after all—that should be the only thing that mattered.

Something in him settled. He would still take the words with a hint of doubt, but he would take them in nonetheless. He would remember them.

It’s a wish fulfilled—then he will make sure it stays that way.

“Dream said you were the original.” Nightmare tilted his head, thinking back. “In my tournament, I don’t think there was an original. There was ‘Corrupted’ and ‘Passive’, but that’s as close as it came.”

Orie hummed. “I see. Well. I suppose one of those could be my brother, or maybe both are the same person from different times. If I had to guess, I’d say corrupted stands a better chance at being the Nightmare from my world, as I look the way I do now.” He smiled again, sadder. Yearning for something. “I would’ve loved to see Passive, however, even for a second.”

Nightmare gazed at him, frowning. “You are more melancholy than my Dream was.”

Orie didn’t seem surprised. “Am I?”

“Yes. Your world…what is different, exactly?”

“Hm. Besides the obvious,” Orie said, gesturing to his Dream across the field, “not much, I think. But there are some key differences. For one, my brother would never care for me as you have for your brother should the same things happen.”

Nightmare blinked. “I doubt that. I never realized how much I cared until this happened. I’m sure your brother would realize the same thing I did.”

Orie’s smile wavered. “While a lovely thought, I doubt it.”

“I insist. It’s as you said, right? Versions of the same soul. I—”

“Would you have killed him?”

The question was delivered calmly.

Nightmare felt it pierce his soul. “…what?”

“If the suppressor had worked as intended, would you have only hurt your brother? Or would you have killed him?”

“I—Wh—”

“Would you have killed your brother?” Orie asked again, looking him in the eye. “When he was magicless and bound, would you taunt him and kill him? Would you look him in the eyes and say that his sins are far too great to apologize for? That the only way he can ever atone for them is to let you kill him.”

Orie sounded like…like he was repeating something he had heard countless times.

Nightmare stared.

Though his eyes were still on him, still on his rough smile and pained eyes—though he still saw all of it, he was no longer focused on it. He gazed through it all, turning back his memories until he was standing in the cell he held Dream in before he was turned into a child when he was sneering down at him and his pleading and his apologies.

When he was at his angriest, convinced hurting his brother was the only way to make him understand how little anything he could say would change anything, would he have gone the extra mile and actually killed him? Would he have thought that torture was too kind? Would he have dusted Dream and left him there in his cell forever, denying him a peaceful rest? If he could go back, knowing the suppressor would not work as intended, would he have eventually crossed the line?

It felt unthinkable, and yet…if the Dream next to him was the original, and if his brother hated so much as to wish death onto him, then what did that mean for Nightmare? Was the same hate there, buried deep inside him, so far that he did not yet realize it?

What would happen should he realize it? Would he…

But Dream, his Dream…

Short of breath, he looked away. He searched the field around him, each second of emptiness making his soul pound quicker, until he found the yellow cape and golden crown of his brother, chasing an insect with a bunch of flowers in his hands. Relieved, he relaxed, taking in the sight of him laughing like it was the last sign of water in an otherwise dry desert.

Feeling eyes on him, Dream looked up and waved.

He smiled to himself, waving back.

Once his brother turned back to his flowers, his smile wavered, Orie’s questions coming back to him. Feeling sick, he looked down, clenching his hands.

It was a horrifying thought, his brother dying. Even more so to imagine it as his little brother—his Dream, the one just across the field and so happy, the one it felt like he had only just gotten back—as the one lying down, wounds littering his body, slowly dusting as he gazed up at him with betrayal and hurt and forgiving in his eyes. He wanted to lock these images away, and deny they would ever happen, but how could he be sure?

If the original version of him wanted his brother dead, what did that mean for him?

No. No.

He refused to believe he would ever harm his brother. Not his version. He could never, would rather harm himself than ever give into those urges. And he knows his boys would kill him themselves or die trying than let him kill his brother. Nightmare, as himself, would never kill his brother. It was a disgusting thought to even ponder.

Sensing his conviction, Orie smiled, not saddened or envious. He nodded, brushing his fingers over his shoulder. “Then it is as I know.”

Nightmare felt sorrow as he looked at him. Maybe not his brother, maybe different stories of the same soul, but they still knew each other. He still hated the thought of a version of him ever wanting to kill their brother. He opened his mouth to say something, anything—apologize. “I—”

Orie shook his head, shushing him. “Do not apologize for the actions of another. You do not influence my brother.” Hardening, he continued, serious, “And my brother does not influence you.”

It was reassuring.

Nightmare nodded. Orie nodded back, smile returning.

He still felt responsible, wanting to give words of encouragement as Orie did for him, but he could see his counsel was not wanted. It made sense, too. If he continued to insist this Dream’s brother still cared for him, that meant opening wounds that took years to close, giving a hope that was carefully shelved new fuel. Orie has had years to understand is his brother might still care for him or not. He cannot, should not, influence that. In Orie’s words: while a lovely thought to think otherwise, he should not force his feelings onto a version of him he did not know.

But…while he could not encourage, perhaps he could…

Carefully, Nightmare reached out and brought Orie into a hug.

Orie twitched in surprise, stiff. He wondered how long it had been since he had hugged his Nightmare. It was a heartbreaking thing to think about. Orie melted into him quickly, hugging back tightly, desperately. He let him, knowing he needed it far more than Nightmare wanted it. Pulling back, he didn’t say anything as Orie Dream wiped his eyes, sniffing.

“Thank you,” Orie whispered.

Nightmare smiled. “Of course.” He didn’t say, it’s what brothers do, but he had a feeling Orie heard it anyway, the way he laughed.

“I’m back!”

They both jumped as his Dream appeared, dropping his collection between them. He sat down and start picking through them. It was…a lot of flowers. All shades of purple and blue, with some white and black and yellow ones thrown in. Nightmare frowned. Maybe too many for one flower crown.

“That’s a lot of flowers.” Nightmare said, silently asking Dream why he got so many.

“I don’t think you need that many,” Orie added, picking up one of the purple ones—a coneflower, if Nightmare remembered correctly.

“Oh, no. I don’t.” Dream said, grinning. “But I picked some for you, too.”

Orie’s sockets widened in surprise. “I’ve already finished mine.”

“I know. It looks really good. But I figured that since I’m making one for my Nightmare, you can make one for yours, too!”

Nightmare twitched.

Orie twirled the flower in his hand. “I don’t think I should…” He seemed hesitant to say why he shouldn’t.

“But it’s like you said, right? Flower crowns don’t have to be perfect because they aren’t meant to be perfect. They are built with your hands and woven with all the care you have for the person you’re making them for. You push your love into the flowers and the person will always know you are with them when they wear it.” Dream tilted his head, curious. “Why shouldn’t you make one for your brother?”

It was an innocent question.

Nightmare joined his brother in gazing at Orie. The Dream was quiet as he gazed at his flower. Then, he smiled, looking content.

“Yes…” he said, looking up. “Why shouldn’t I?”

When they finally went home, both Dreams had one flower crown from each other. And Nightmare left with two—one from his brother, and one as a gift from Orie, who knew he would appreciate it far more than his own brother would.

#my writing #my fanfiction #fanfiction #oneshot #undertale #utmv #dreamtale #dream tournament #dream sans #nightmare sans #one small dream #mentioned ink sans #mentioned blue sans #mentioned bad sanses #please let me know any warnings i missed #let me know what you think!!

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