#just please observe her i tried hard on this
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prove your love
spencer reid x bau!fem!reader
synopsis: lila gives your boyfriend heart eyes. when he’s assigned to stay over at her place you’re pissed. when spencer comes home, he makes sure to show his love for you. SMUT!!! minors dni
warnings: dom/sub, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), piv, various positions, overstimulation, pet names such as trouble, sweetheart, love, etc. very cheesy.
~
you slip your heels off in the hall with an aggravated huff. ‘look on the bright side, the case is over.’ your brain tries to tell you but the many sights and experiences of lila disrespecting you and glaring at you wasn’t going to leave your brain anytime soon. meanwhile, spencer got the opposite treatment, compliments, heart eyes, and lingering handshakes the entire time. she even slipped him her number, that little—
“hey,” spencer says, knocking you out of your thoughts. he can tell your brains conjuring something up. he can practically see the cogs turning in your head. “what’s got you so worked up?” he asks, taking a step towards you. his hands settle on your hips then travel to your lower back. he smiles down at you.
“nothing.” you dismiss, light and airy. trying to act unbothered. “why do you think i’m mad?” you question back, a little too defensive for your liking. “are you asking me to profile you?” he grins. you don’t get the chance to speak before he starts, “for starters, you practically ripped your heels off and threw them, you’re all tense, your fists were balled up and i can tell your thinking hard about something.” he exaggerates.
“you’re wrong because i am perfectly fine.” you state matter of factly. brushing his hands off you and walking to the bedroom. he follows after you. “holding in emotions, specifically anger, can have detrimental effects on one’s mental health. the constant internal struggle to suppress emotions can lead to even more stress, anxiety and even depression.” spencer explains. you just hum in response, searching in your closet for something comfortable, your mind doesn’t stop running about stupid lila though. he watches you. it wasn’t uncommon, he loved to observe you. most of the time it was just to see your pretty face while you were in thought but other times he liked to study your behavior and learn your routines. spencer liked to do it with you.
“you’re staring,” you comment. “i can’t help it.” he flirts. “oh please, did you tell lila that too today?” you let slip. you flush. glad you aren’t face to face with spencer right now. “that’s what this is about?” he chuckles. “cmere,” he says. you stumble over to the bed and he pulls you onto his lap. “you know i love you right?” he says. you nod. not looking at him. “so much, like i am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you, or whatever bella said.” he makes a twilight reference. you were the one who forced him to watch it. you giggle a little, meeting his eyes. he smiles. “there’s my girl.” he murmurs. your heart swoons. his hands settle on your waist and he leans in. you kiss, it’s almost like a breath of fresh air. when he pulls away, still keeping close he speaks. “i think i need to prove how much i love you, hmm?” he hums. “you don’t need to.” you mumble. “but i want to, please?” he pleads. you don’t protest for long. “okay.. if you must.” you giggle. he smiles. he’s so pretty you feel like your going to explode.
as he places you on your back, unbuttoning your shirt, he starts to spit out another fact. “did you know men are more jealous of sexual infidelity than emotional?” he asks. “women are actually the opposite, they get more jealous with ‘emotional cheating’ than sexual.” he takes his time, you always loved how smart he was. it turned you on.
“i wasn’t jealous,” you say. “oh really?” he snorts. slipping off your shirt. “yeah.” you say. he instructs you to lift your hips so he can slide your pants off. “mhmm..” he says. eyes focused on your body, he’s too distracted to make a smart comment. “she was pretty, i guess.” you try to say. lila was gorgeous. he just chuckles and shakes his head. not bothering to comment. he dips down and kisses you. nose accidentally bumping against yours and teeth clashing. it was messy, just how you liked it. “what was that thing about kissing and shaking hands?” you ask, just to hear him talk.
“the number of pathogens transferred from just a single handshake is staggering. it’s safer to kiss,” he says into the skin of your neck. “that’s interesting, tell me more.” you smile. he groans. “i can tell you all about it later, can’t i just take care of my baby now?” he smiles. “baby? what happened to trouble?” you grin. “you are trouble,” he sighs. lovingly of course. you giggle as he kisses down from your neck to your collarbone, then unbuckles your bra without struggle. pulling it off. he trails down to your tummy, pressing little kisses here and there. making you antsy. he reaches the spot you need him most and smiles into your skin as you squirm a little. “patience, trouble.” he says. he plants a firm kiss on your hipbone and pulls your panties down with one hand. “you’re so pretty,” he smiles. eyes flickering to your face. “all mine, hmm?” he hums and you nod enthusiastically. he chuckles and thumbs experimentally at your clit.
you press your hips up into his touch, leaning into it. chasing that feeling. he smirks, inserting two fingers slowly. he paws at that spongy spot within your walls. you let out a quiet moan and spencer doesn’t deem it good enough, he starts punching at the spot. abusing it almost. this pulls another moan out of you and he speeds up the movements on your clit. you almost see heaven as you arch your back, eyes rolling back. he leans down, attaching his lips on your clit and sucking harshly. thank god you weren’t standing because you would’ve doubled over with how strong your orgasm was. you try to get the words out but only pant. spencer can tell, “gonna cum, trouble?” he asks. then continues his attack on the bundle of nerves. the coil in your belly snaps, climaxing with his name on your lips.
the sound of your slick fills the room as spencer works you through your organism. eyes trained on your pussy. his fingers are pulled out, given a quick lick and suddenly his mouth is on you. lapping and drinking up your release like a man starved. “spence, wait— gimme a minute-“ moan.
your begs fall on deaf ears as he’s absolutely lost in you. there’s no pulling him out. you reach your hand down and bury it in his hair. pressing your hips into the bed to escape the overstimulation. trying to tug him off, he doesn’t listen though. moaning into you when you pull on his hair. the vibrations make you even more sensitive before, his nose brushes up against your clit as two strong hands come to hold you down on either side.
you moan, tears pricking in your eyes from the overstimulation. everything’s magnified by 10. the obscene sounds of your pussy fill the room as your poor clit is abused, spencer’s tongue prodding into you, milking you for everything you have to offer. the familiar hear fills your belly and you can feel the coil start to unwind. “spence—“ you sob. cumming again. riding against his face. you can feel that bastard smirk against you as he greedily laps up your release. “you’re okay,” he coaxs. finally pulling off of you. he presses a kiss to your mound then pulls himself up, he kisses your cheek. then wipes the stray tears on your cheek.
“hi pretty,” he says with a smile. your eyes meet his and you smile, a little dazy. “you have something on your face.” you say, remaints of cum. “do i?” he chuckles. he wipes it off with the back of his hand and kisses you. you can taste yourself on his tongue. “love you so much,” he mumbles against your lips. you don’t get the chance to respond before he’s kissing you again. a little tongue slipping in as he gets carried away. he messily kisses the corner of your mouth, then latches onto your neck. he works at his zipper, multitasking.
begrudgingly, he pulls away from you, slipping down his pants and kicking them off haphazardly. you tug at his shirt and he takes the hint to pull it off. undoing his tie and throwing it somewhere. when he FINALLY takes his shirt off you get to run your hands along his torso giddily. “y’so pretty,” you mumble. “this isn’t about me, it’s about you, trouble.” he says. slipping off his boxers. his cock slips angrily against his stomach and you almost whine. he leans down and kisses you as he slowly pushes in. the stretch burns but is bearable. “i know. its okay,” he whispers. he presses to the hilt, nudging against your cervix. you feel full, his hand slithers down and presses against your lower belly. “mmphh.” you whimper against his lips. he devours the sound and keeps his lips on yours as he starts to thrust in and out of you. pulling his head back to see your face every so often as the tip nudges against that sweet spot. it’s torturous how slow he’s going. you’re so overstimulated, tears start falling out of your eyes.
he smiles down at you, picking up the pace a little. his face contorts and he lets out a moan. you involuntarily clench at that and it punches out another sound. “trouble— can’t keep doing that.” he slurs. the wet sounds of him shoving your slick out of you fill the room as your hips collide. teeth and noses brush together messily and he’s practically devouring you. everything’s happening so fast. before you know it you’re coming again, his name recited on your lips. he works you through it, slamming into you with a feverish pace. you constrict around him and he’s not long after you, pressing himself as far as he can into you and coming. he’s whining,
you pant, he’s collapsed ontop of you. buried in your neck. tears roll down your face. “good girl, good job. taking me so well.” he praises breathily. taking? “..taking..?” you say. “don’t you mean took?”
“we aren’t done.” he lifts himself up from your shoulder, pushing his glasses up. the both of your climax leaks around his dick and spills out of you slowly. “i can’t!” you start to cry as he pulls out, he presses your knees to your chest and shoves himself back in. so much for catching your breath. “you will,” he says softly. beginning to thrust in and out of you, he’s so deep you feel it in your stomach. “that’s it, my good girl huh?” he praises into your neck, a pang of arousal shoots through your body and you can feel yourself get wetter. “spence—“ “none of the whining, you can take it.” he says. he bites at your jawline. you moan loudly. everything feels so good, it’s too much. he reaches down and starts to rub figure eights into your clit gently, a contrast to the brutal pace he had going. “there ya go, taking me so well.” he murmurs, pulling his teeth off and kissing gently. “ah- i- gonna.. cum.” you force out. almost forgetting how to talk. “let go baby.” he says. your back arches, eyes rolling back, clinging to him as if he was the one keeping your grounded. he follows after, shooting cum into you with a whimper and a “nngh.”
it’s unreal. you see stars.
when you come down from your high, your sat on spencer’s lap, dick still intact. you sob, falling into his shoulder and clinging onto him. “i can’t spence.” you sniffle from the overstimulation. if you had to come again you’d probably scream. you’d also scream though if he pulled out.
“the world record for most female orgasms in an hour is a hundred and ah- fuck, thirty six” he says as you clench around him. “i think you can.” he smirks. you push his glasses up.
you bite back, “nerd.”
-
that’s it
not proofread
i’m sick asf rn 🥰
#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#dom spencer reid#sub reader#criminal minds fic
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The Nurse Pt 1.
You laid on the cold, hard hospital bed starring at the ceiling, trying your best to hold back your tears. Your tears were the final thing you felt you still had some control of, the final connection you felt you had to your masculinity, they fell despite your best effort. The diaper wrapped around your midsection warmed as you felt urine trickle over your now hairless balls and absorb in the soft damp padding under your cheeks, as if to confirm your masculinity was indeed a thing of the past.
You tried not to let the diagnosis replay itself in your head for the millionth time, but it seemed, as if with all things, that too was out of your control. "The surgery had some unexpected complications." "Fully incontinent" "adult briefs". You ventured a feel under your blanket. Hand running under the hospital gown to collide abruptly with smooth plastic. You ran your hand over the swollen bulge probing gingerly at the soft padding. It was so thick you could hardly feel your own dick through all of the padding.
"Diapers", you thought, "I'm going to be stuck in diapers for the rest of my life." The tears came unabated now.
There was a sudden knock at the door, and it creaked open.
"Mr.... Mr. Smith?"
You quickly pulled your hand from under your sheets, and tried to wipe the tears from your eyes.
You clear your throat and sit up with a sniffle. "Erhm, yes. Yes that's me."
You were dismayed to see the nurse that entered the room was some 5 years your junior, and absolutely beautiful. You could read on her face that your attempts to hide your emotions had been futile. She wore a mask of sadness and pity.
"I'm sorry, do you... do you need a minute?" She asked, brushing her hair back anxiously with her fingers.
"No, no. I'm... I'm fine." You say trying to regain your composure. "What, what is it?"
"Well I'm here to ummm, well, to get you cleaned up."
"Oh..." you stammer, the reality of the situation donning on you. "No, there's no need for you to do that. I can manage it I'm sure."
"Yeah, um, I'm sure you can, but you see it's hospital policy I'm afraid. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I uh, well I do this all the time, haha." She chuckled the last part uncomfortably.
"What? Why is that hospital policy? I promise it's not an issue."
"Yes, I know I know. I wish that wasn't the case, but I'm sure you can understand, a lot of our other patients who have... recently started using protection, are much less capable of you, and well some of them get embarrassed as well. We, need to be certain that you're changed" she paused "that you have adequate protection until you are discharged from our care. It's a legal thing, I'm sure you understand, right? Plus! Looking at your chart it seems we're just holding you overnight for observation, so you'll be out of here and on your own by tomorrow morning! Isn't that good news?"
Tears once again stung the back of your eyes. "Please be quick." You affirmed with a crack in your voice.
The nurse nodded curtly and started pulling on her nitrile gloves. From under your bed she produced a fresh folded diaper, a plastic tube of ointment, a large plastic bottle, and a package of wipes. 'So much equipment' you thought. So much is needed for me just to use the bathroom now.' She placed all of it beside you and stopped.
"I'm Sarah" she said.
"Matt." You replied looking away.
"Nice to meet you Matt. I'm sorry that this is happening to you. But you should know you're not alone. I see patients everyday that need to wear protection. I know it seems like the end of the world right now, but I promise in the grand scheme of things it's really not that bad."
You nod quietly, afraid to speak for fear of loosing your cool, and crying through your first diaper change as an 'adult'. You knew she was lying. How many diapers did she ever change on a 30 year old man? ZERO. That was your bet.
"Now, I understand this is your first time wearing a brief?"
"Diaper" you thought, lips pursed tightly. She didn't continue. Finally you nodded.
"Right, well, with you being discharged tomorrow I'm going to show you some things ok. I promise I'm a real pro."
With that she unfolded the tightly packed diaper and crumpled it back and forth in her hands, as if to advertise: this is how loud and noticeable the diaper will be.
"We call this floofing. It breaks up the material so it's softer and more absorbent." She explained. "Now," she pulled your hospital sheet off of you and began to pull up your gown.
Reflexively you grabbed her wrist and pushed her hand away.
"Mr... Matt, please. I promise it's nothing I haven't seen. I'm trying to 'be quick' remember?"
You release your grip on the soft smooth skin of her forearm and let your hand fall. Suddenly ashamed and embarrassed at your outburst.
"I'm sorry." You stammer, stealing yourself for the inevitable.
"That's ok. I know this must be hard for you." She says pulling up your gown to reveal your sodden yellowed diaper.
You couldn't help but look down at yourself. The infantile plastic fabric mounded between your legs seemed huge. Worse yet it was stained yellow, with your piss. "When did I do all that?" You thought. For the first time since Sarah had entered a tinge of fear overpowered your humiliation. "Do I really have that little control of myself now? Am I really that broken?"
As if answering your unspoken questions, Sarah continued. "Now, if you're changing lying down, you'll want to place the fresh diap.. brief underneath yourself in case you have a little accident midway through. That way it will all go in the new brief. Can you lift your butt up for me."
This was all too much. You numbly thrust your diapered crotch into the air for the whole world to see. Not least of which this poor beautiful woman beside you, whose face was practically pressed up against it, forced to endure changing the piss soaked rags of the invalid before her.
She daftly slid the unfolded diaper beneath you. "And down. Very good!" She nearly cooed. "Now, we just take the old one off." With each deafening rip of tape your anxiety built to a crescendo. Finally the sodden diaper lay tapeless across your shame. Sarah smiled a fake smile to no one and peeled back the top of the diaper to expose your hairless, piss covered groin to the room. You looked down at yourself, and at her sitting beside you. You felt as though your dick wasn't even yours anymore. Useless now, dribbling pee at random, and hairless, shaved while you were out during surgery. It looked and felt so juvenile. YOU looked and felt so juvenile, you thought. And you to make everything worse you were experiencing your new body for the first time with this beautiful young stranger. You glanced over at her, as if to find some comfort, some understanding, but there was nothing but the same sad, pitiful look on her face.
"Now, your number one concern with incontinence is actually skin care." Sarah said putting on a brave face. "So you want to make sure you clean up thoroughly during every change." She explained pulling wet wipes from their packs.
You flinched away as she began to wipe you down.
"Sorry, they're cold." She said smiling at you, and making eye contact for the first time since the change began.
They were cold, but you weren't sure that was exactly why you flinched. Perhaps it was the obscene humiliation of a complete stranger wiping your own piss off your most intimate area, and a beautiful stranger at that.
It occurred to you that just a day or two ago, the only interactions you'd have had with a beautiful woman and your dick would have been a fun sexual encounter. This couldn't be any further from a sexual encounter, despite having her gloved hand petting your dick at that very moment. You weren't a sexual partner. You were just a smelly, humiliating burden.
"Now, I know you probably don't want to hear this, but if I were you, I would continue to remove your pubic hair. I know that may make you feel... a certain way, but trust me, having hair down there makes clean up WAY harder, and it can hold in smell, and you DEFINITELY don't want that. But of course that's totally up to you. That's just my two cents!" She finished cheerily.
Just when you thought your humiliation had peaked, more is piled on. You had assumed your hair removal was part of the procedure. That you could grow it back like the man you are. But no, being clean shaven is just another part of being in diapers.
"Ok! You're all clean! So now you can change into your new brief!" She said with false cheer. "Lift up."
For the final time you thrust your groin into the air, right by this poor woman's face. She pulled the sodden diaper from beneath you, and you lowered yourself onto the fresh diaper. 'Never not in a diaper' you thought.
"Very good." Sarah said rolling up your used diaper. "You can roll these right up like this and tape them back closed like this." She explained, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to teach someone how to dispose of their used diapers. "Now. Remember how I said skin care is super important?" You nodded numbly. "This is where you will want to be very meticulous with that. The first thing I like to do is apply the barrier cream. According to your chart you're fully incontinent correct? And the doctor explained what that means?"
"Yes." You mumbled meekly.
"So we expect you'll be passing stool into your diapers as well." She paused, presumably catching herself using the 'd' word, then powered through. "Prolonged exposure to your feces will break down your skin much faster than urine, so you'll want to change yourself as soon as possible. However that's not always possible, so it's highly recommended you apply a barrier cream"
'You'll be passing stool into your diapers' she had said. YOUR diapers. YOU WILL BE SHITTING IN YOUR DIAPERS. This is your reality now. Presumably for the rest of your life.
Sarah squeezed a line of ointment onto her gloved index finger. "This should be about how much you want. Oh! And definitely you'll want to wear gloves. These ointments can be really greasy." She explained.
Without further explanation she reached down and pulled your nutsack back and slid her lubed finger between your cheeks. You could feel her smearing the greasy ointment outward across your butt.
"Make sure at the very least you cover your bottom, and the back of your scrotum. That's the area most likely to be in contact with feces."
To your absolute horror, you felt your member began to grow at her touch. Pulsating as it filled with blood, despite your state. It was all just too much. Tears again began to fall silently down your cheeks.
"Oh!" Sarah exclaimed despite her attempts at professionalism. She looked back at you and exclaimed again. "Oh, no, no, no. Please don't cry. This is totally natural. I completely understand it's all beyond your control. And hey, this is really really good news for you right. We were uncertain in the procedure would result in importance as well right?"
Your tears continued unabated.
"Hey hey hey!" She continued trying to console you, "this is great news! Your dick still works! Right!" She smiled jokingly, relieving some of the tension in the room.
You smiled despite yourself. Wiping the tears away and nodding. "Thank you." You said.
"Ok, ok we're almost done! Hang in there." She said. "This is just oil. I'll be honest it's J&J baby oil. There's no getting around it, that's just what works as an all a round barrier to protect your skin." She was rushing now. Clearly as eager to get this over with now as you were.
She splashed a few dabs onto your groin where your hair used to be, and started rubbing it in around your now fully erect penis.
"Just try and cover all of your private area with this AT LEAST once a day. I recommend after your morning diaper change when you're out of the shower. But after every diaper change would be better" She had dropped all pretenses in her hurry to get away from your erection that had become the hairless elephant in the room.
You noticed with dismay that while Sarah oiled you up, urine trickled from the head of your penis onto your stomach, pooling a bit and rolling down your side into the fresh diaper beneath you. The realization that you truly had NO control dawned on you fully. What good was it being able to have an erection if it was always going to be leaking piss anyway?
"Ooops!" She said cheerfully, wiping the fresh urine off of your stomach. "Ok! Last bit, is the powder!" She said not missing a beat. She explained all of the different types you could purchase as she sprinkled the flagrant powder over your glistening freshly oiled erection and balls. You didn't catch much of what she said. All you could think about was the smell. Baby. It was baby powder. You smell like a baby now. And why shouldn't you? wrapped in your diaper, and covered in your own fluid. It was only fitting you now also SMELL like a baby.
"....use this EVERY TIME you change." She finished. "And that's it! Now we just tape you up."
She pulled the top of your new diaper up and over your penis. Pinning your still erect penis to your tummy.
"And then it's just one, two, three, four." She explained as she taped the fresh diaper in place. "Some people like to tape a different order, but that's what I like." She said, hurriedly pulling your gown back down to cover your new diaper before you had a chance to inspect it.
"Now what I would do," she explained "is stand up and test the fit. That's important if you change yourself laying down."
After such a thoroughly humiliating experience, you felt absolute relief at once again being covered and hidden from her, even if it was just by a thin hospital gown that did little to nothing to hide the outline of the diaper. Slowly you sat up and swung your feet over the side of the bed and stood. You winced painfully at the surprisingly loud crinkles your diaper made along the way. Finally you stood. You were a full head taller than Sarah you noticed. It felt weird standing in front of her like this. So close. Your boner, fully known to both of you, still straining against its new plastic prison.
"Now how does it feel?" She asked "run your fingers along the leg holes to make sure it's not too tight there. You can always readjust accordingly."
"It feels pretty humiliating." You said half jokingly.
You hoped it would lighten the mood some, but she just looked at you with the same sad pity.
"You'll get used to it. You'll see. This is your life now, and it's best if you try not to fight it. Okay? You'll be alright. Just a learning curve is all." She smiled and threw your used diaper in the trash by the door, and sorted your supplies back under your bed.
You shifted uncomfortably on your feet, feeling the slick ointment between your cheeks, and the heft of the diaper between your legs. You stopped moving to avoid the obvious crinkles you were producing not wanting to draw attention to it. Dumb you thought, given all that just happened.
Satisfied with her cleaning Sarah stood to leave. "I'll be on shift all night ok? So just press that button there if you need anything. It was nice to meet you Matt. You're going to be ok"
"Thank you Sarah." You said abashedly.
She turned in the door, "and Matt,"
You looked up expectantly from your diaper bulge.
"When your penis settles down, reach in and point it back towards the bottom of your diaper, or you'll leak." She smiled, nodded and was gone.
"Your diaper" you said quietly. You wear diapers now. "And you'd better get used to it."
END OF PART ONE
As part of an AI Art experiment, please feel free to edit the photo used in this caption. If you enjoyed this story and would like to see it continue, please submit your edited photos to me.
Thank you.
#ab/dl relationship#ab/dl fiction#diaperhumiliation#ab/dl#incontinence#diaper dependent#incontinent#diaper captions#diapered#diaper bulge#ai girl#ai art#ai#ai artwork
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I would like something (hcs or else, whatever you can make out of it/feel like writing) for Dr. Stockill and a darling who is not eating.
Eiter because they decided to hunger strike as a form of protesting against him (totally terrible idea but not every darling is the sharpest tool in the shed heheh...) or because they are sick and that makes it hard for them/takes away apetite.
Hunger Pains | Headcanons
Dr. Stockill / Gender Neutral Reader
Fandom: The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls.
No Spoilers.
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Ambiguous yan - can be read as platonic or romantic.
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Content Warning: Hunger strikes, disordered eating, illness, brief mention of force feeding, brief mentions of animal/human death.
(If there’s anything else I need to add to these warnings, please let me know.)
Tysm for the ask anon! <3
I hope that this lives up to your request/expectations!!
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- It doesn’t take Stockill long to notice they’ve stopped eating.
- In the months, maybe years, that Stockill has known them, they have never displayed an avoidance of food to this degree.
- Despite his detachment, disgust, and apathy to almost everything around him, he is an observant man. Especially when it comes to his darling.
- Within a few days, the interrogations start.
- He begins questioning his darling; and the longer he goes without an answer, the more insistent he becomes...
- "Don't lie to me, I know something is wrong with you."
- Once he finally manages to get an explanation out of them, he's bewildered.
- This odd behaviour is out of spite? Some silly protest against him?
- Stockill believes that he treats his darling rather well, at least in comparison to the other inmates he oversees.
- His darling is given decent food and drink; dressed in clothes that keep out the asylum's chilling cold; and is kept close to the doctor whenever possible.
- Stockill even allows them to rest in the safety of his room, in his own bed (which is often unused due to his frequent neglect of sleep).
- And yet, they still fight him?
- They would prefer the bleak darkness of the asylum's wards, accompanied by nothing but filthy rats and those wretched whores, over staying with him?
- Even going so far as to starve themselves, just to prove a point?
- His darling begins to deteriorate... day by day. Their movements becoming slower, their thoughts foggier, their gaze more distant. All despite his attempts to reason with them.
- As he tries to rationalise it, his confusion gives way to anger.
- Convinced that his darling's behaviour must have been instigated by another, threats soon follow.
- "I swear, if you do not stop this idiotic demonstration... I will find whichever inmate placed the idea in your head, and I will make her suffer!"
- From here, there's only two ways that it can end:
- In one, his darling ceases their little hunger strike, giving into the doctor's demands. Whereupon things will return to how they were, and Stockill will limit their contact with others even more as a precaution.
- In the other ending, his darling continues. Until Stockill does something...
- Drastic.
- But, he would rather not resort to something as vile as force feeding, or harming their companions to threaten them into relenting...
- So, it would be wise for his darling to stop. After all, they don't want to have their friends' blood on their hands... do they?
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- Alternatively, if his darling’s lack of appetite is a result of sickness or some other affliction, he’s more…
- Well, he's not exactly sympathetic, but perhaps more understanding.
- Now, this is a problem for him to solve, a condition to be alleviated.
- He quickly sets himself to work: to find a cure for whatever is ailing them.
- There's a sudden influx of dead rats (and eventually dead patients) scattered throughout his laboratory, all in his attempt to cure this illness.
- But, with the limitations of victorian medicine, there's a good chance that Stockill's ventures will remain fruitless.
- If the illness becomes long-term, or is some in fact some incurable/chronic condition, then Stockill will continue to seek for ways to lessen it.
- All the while, he will focus on keeping his darling healthy; maybe even neglecting his plague research until he is confident that their condition is stable.
- They won't be leaving Stockill's room for a long while... As he will insist they remain bedbound to avoid the affliction worsening.
- He would try to encourage his darling's appetite with more pleasant food than the asylum typically provides.
- "I recall you mentioning this dish. Something you enjoyed before you were sent... here."
- The costs for which are taken from the asylum's funds... but that is of no matter to him. His darling takes upmost priority.
- "Also, don't attempt to smuggle some to the other patients again. Yes, yes, I saw that. You are not nearly as sly as you think you are."
- He's almost considerate in this state.
- It's eerie.
- Incredibly eerie.
- But, all things considered, it's far from the worst situation his darling could be in.
- And as they fall asleep, curled up in Stockill's bed, the doctor watching them with a hawk-like gaze...
- They see the ever so faint, ever so unnatural, twist of his lips.
- A smile.
- "I will see you tomorrow, my dear..."
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#dr. stockill#yandere#yandere blog#tw yandere#the asylum for wayward victorian girls#yandere x reader#tafwvg#montmorency stockill#yandere doctor#dr stockill#yandere dr stockill#male yandere#anon ask
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I wanted to design a new Pokemon Trainer to go along with my travels across every region to put every ribbon I can on one Pokemon. :) The outfit isn't final yet but I like the hair!
I also wanted to try that very distinct artstyle you see in Pokemon Art..... her name is Fae!!!
#Pokemon#PKMN#PKMN oc#PKMN Trainer Fae#fizzles draws#i dont think i have any more tags for you#just please observe her i tried hard on this
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Can I request a Spencer babying the reader BAU and everyone on the team is so done with it but reader is confused and oblivious...?
A/N: Thank you for your request! I've been very much feeling post-Prison/ later seasons Spencer recently, so I hope you enjoy this fic!
Warnings: mostly fluff, implied age-gap, slight mentor/mentee dynamic.
Your first year in the BAU would've been tough had it not been for Doctor Spencer Reid.
It was tough still, but without him, you don't think you'd have been able to handle much of it. He'd been your mentor through each case, taking you under his wing when he wasn't on academic leave, teaching his criminology courses at the FBI Academy.
Those weeks were the hardest, and you found yourself moping about in the office, texting him once or twice a trip for advice.
On one particularly hard case, he'd come back into the office after you'd text. Not to consult on the case, but just to drop you off a chamomile tea and a pastry to brighten your day that little bit.
When he was back, your days were great. He knew so much, and you learnt so much from him so quickly, eagerly consuming his every word. You were so eager to please him that you often forgot others around the two of you.
“Spencer, if you're done fawning after Y/N we have a case to work on,” Emily gently chastised the man as he pulled out your chair for you, ready to sit down to hear the details of your next crime.
“Oh, Emily, thank you, but it's okay. Doctor Reid was just being considerate, I'm sure he'd have done it for anyone.” The shared glances around the room were filled with glib secrecy, but no-one commented further, leaving you slightly baffled.
Those shared looks between the other members of your team had become more common as of late, with each one more worrisome than the next. There was something unsettling about being the only one out of the loop, and as the newest member of the team, and the youngest, it often felt disheartening.
“Y/N, don't worry. Being the youngest member of any team is tough, but you're smart and you're holding your own.” With a pat to your head he walked away, lifting the weight off your shoulders slightly but not fully. You needed to get to the bottom of the BAU's non-verbal communications, and you needed answers.
Your first technique was interrogation. Surely one of them would break and tell you if you laid out your thoughts and feelings clearly.
Surely not, you found, as each member casually and softly blew you off.
“Y/N, you just need to think carefully about how certain members of the team act towards you. How familiar they are. How overly familiar they are.” Tara had at least told you that much, bit it had left you just as confused as the radio silence from the others.
“Everyone has behaved very professionally with me. You've all been very welcoming up to this point, which I appreciate greatly.”
“I wouldn't count gifting you flowers for your first successful case as the most professional act, Y/N,” she said as she sipped her coffee. “But I suppose that is just up to interpretation.
Doctor Reid had sent you flowers after you finished your first case. But there had been extenuating circumstances in that case. You'd both worked on the geographical profile on that case, and together had figured out the species of flower the unsub was using was only cultivated on one local flower orchard. It had cracked the case open and you'd found your unsub hours later.
So the flowers were an extension of that small joint success. That was all.
Your second attempt at figuring out what was going on was observation.
Partially taking Tara’s advice, you tried your best to track the moments when each of the weary looks would come your way.
Overwhelmingly, they seemed to be directed towards Doctor Reid whenever the two of you interacted.
You had to gently inform him of this, before it interrupted both of your abilities to work.
“Doctor Reid, do you know why Emily and Rossi are both currently watching us from between the blinds in their offices?” You whispered to the man, leaning in close to his ear. You were quite sure he didn't know, but a question seemed as good a way as any to broach the topic.
“I do, yes. It's best if you ignore them.”
His nonchalance in the matter shocked you, so sure you were that this would be news to him. You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.
“Why are they staring at us?” You finally managed to force the words out in a small squeak, forcing his eyes back to yours.
“Don't worry about it for now, I'll handle it.” He smiled down as you, and the bright gesture washed away more of the tension you'd been feeling in the office. You smiled back at him as he rose from his desk chair and carried himself to the stairs. You giggled when he winked down at you, just as you noticed Emily frantically hurrying away from her office window as Spencer knocked on her door.
As much as he told you to not worry about it all though, you really couldn't help yourself. You found yourself growing more clumsy under the watchful eyes of your entire team, galling more times than you'd care to admit into Doctor Reid's arms. He always caught you, though, and you were thankful you never did yourself serious injury.
You finally got the answers you'd craved out on a case about a month into your struggles.
There was something slightly unsettling about the way the female Sheriff was paying attention to Doctor Reid, and it made you uncomfortable. Your mouth ran dry when she touched his arm, but a small part of you warmed up again when he shrugged her off. Until, at least, you heard him explain why.
“I'm sorry, I'm a germophobe, so I'd really prefer you not touch me.” His voice was calm and steady; it really didn't seem like he was lying.
“You're not pulling my leg? I'm sorry if I came on too strong, but-”
“Why would I pull your leg, I said I don't like physical touch?”
“Well, there was that young girl earlier, Y/N was it? You had your hand on her back as you walked in, so I didn't think…”
The woman had made a good point, and you crept closer to the edge of the door to hear Doctor Reid - Spencer's response.
“Sheriff, if we're done here, do you think I could get back to my job?” You were almost disappointed in the change of topic, but you weren't all that sad to see the Sheriff remove herself from the room. Slipping in behind her you decided to test the new theory that had slipped into your mind in the last minutes.
You called out to him to grab his attention as you walked into the room but before he had the chance to turn and greet you, you threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your body down against his, enveloping him in a back hug.
It was quite possibly the most familiar position you'd been in with him, but really it wasn't all that different from your usual proximity.
Unlike when the Sheriff casually brushed against him, he didn't stiffen, didn't pull away, but instead melted into your touch, looking up at you with a large grin.
You stood shocked for a minute before grinning back.
“Spencer, I think I know why everyone has been watching us for the last few weeks.” You said, causing his eyes to panic slightly as he acknowledged your words.
“The, uh, the Sheriff was just in here talking about a development either some of the DNA test results-” He desperately tried to change the subject, but you were locked in now, spinning his chair around to face you more as you came eye-to-eye with him.
“I know why the Sheriff was in here, Spencer, I heard it all.”
“It's not what you think,” you paused for a moment as your brow furrowed, trying to figure out if you'd somehow caught the wrong end of the stick.
“So our coworkers haven't been waiting for you to ask me out, having noticed large changes in your body language and attitude around me?”
“It's….exactly as you think.” His face was flushed with pink and your heart skipped a beat at the man in front of you. But you still had some questions.
“And you knew, but you didn't say anything to me despite the fact that I bought it up multiple times?”
“I'm…I'm not good with words," he frowned
“Are you good with dates?”
“Excuse me?”
“You're going to take me on a date when we get back to Quantico. After giving it some thought, Doctor Reid, it seems I've become quite enamoured of you.” You dropped into his lap then, sitting there like a cat pleased to take up residence on its owners legs. He stuttered for a few seconds but then found his voice again, face lighting up.
“Spencer. Please, Y/N, call me Spencer.”
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#mgg#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n
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flutter
Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader
snapshots masterlist
summary: When you finally start to show, Joel has a tough time with it as the reality sinks in—he’s going to be a father again.
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. (TW) PREGNANCY. established relationship. no mention of reader’s age, however in other works for this universe, it is implied she is younger than Joel, her specific age will never be stated so do with that what you will. brief descriptions of a pregnant woman’s changing body, brief mention of morning sickness, mention of breastfeeding (it only comes up in a conversation very briefly) these subjects can possibly be triggering, especially mentions of a changing body, so while i try to handle everything with the utmost care, i still ask that you proceed with caution. domesticity, reader enjoys taking care of her family, ellie is a little shit, grumpy joel, he’s sort of a dick at first? but only because he’s working through some feelings so let’s forgive him, okay?
word count: 3.5k
a/n: this is part of the snapshots universe, but it could absolutely be read as a standalone too. minimal editing, this has been sitting in my drafts and i did a quick edit during my lunch hour, so please excuse any mistakes.
“Shit.”
You almost can’t believe your own two eyes. Staring at your reflection in the large, oval shaped mirror hanging over the porcelain bathroom sink, your gaze widens in complete surprise. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, turning to the side. It takes your brain about a good minute or two to process, really process, the way that your belly strains against the thin, white cotton of your camisole. It had seemingly swollen overnight—because it hadn’t been this prominent the day before, had it?
Over the last few months, there’d been changes.
Some subtle and some not so subtle.
“Ellie! Stop fucking staring at them,” you’d scolded the teenager late one evening during yours and hers weekly game night. For as hard as you tried focusing on what move you should make next, it was hard to concentrate on the chessboard in front of you when you could feel the way her eyes were fixed on your breasts. “I mean it! Quit staring at my boobs, you little shit.”
She held up her hands, her mouth full of popcorn.
“Hey, in my defense, they’re just fucking there, man. If anything, they’re fucking staring at me, okay?”
During your chess rematch the following week, you had accidentally knocked one of your pawn pieces off of the table. When you’d stood up and bent over to pick it up, she had made the observation that your butt seemed to have gotten a little bigger too.
“Bet Joel’s liking these changes,” Ellie had smirked. “It sure as hell explains why the headboard’s been banging against the wall more than usual lately.”
You threw the pawn at her, smiling in satisfaction when it bounced off her forehead and landed into her glass of lemonade.
One part of your body, however, hadn’t changed.
Not until now.
“Hon, trust me, you have nothing to be worried about,” Maria had assured you with confidence when you had brought up your concerns about your stomach. “Every woman, and every pregnancy, is different. I didn’t start showing until I was around six months, remember?”
“I guess you’re right.” You’d been around four months, then. “Doesn’t help that I haven’t felt the baby move.”
“You will,” Maria had promised. “Just be patient”
Biting your lip, you place a hand on your belly.
It’s always been one of the softer parts of you, but now, it’s firmed into a perfect, round bump.
“Maybe soon I’ll feel you move,” you murmur, giving it a gentle pat. You tug the lace hem of your camisole down as far as it can go and then pull at the elastic waistband of your blue, terry cloth shorts.
Shutting off the lights in the bathroom, you slip out into the bedroom where you find that Joel’s still tangled up in the sheets, fast asleep. He had been assigned to the afternoon patrol route today—normally an early riser, if he was still snoozing, it meant that he really needed the rest. Deciding it was best to let him keep sleeping for a little while longer, you quietly tiptoe out of your shared bedroom and head downstairs into the kitchen.
After making yourself a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, and one for the kid as well, you prepare the coffee maker for Joel. You spoon dark roast grounds into the filter and set the timer for the coffee to start brewing in thirty minutes.
He should be up by then, you think, pulling a basket of eggs out of the refrigerator.
You’re starting to get used to this. Domesticity.
Despite your protests, Maria had made the decision to pull you off patrol that same afternoon you had shared the news of your pregnancy. “I’m putting you on leave,” she’d told you. “Effective immediately. I don’t want to see you outside of these walls. Got it?”
“That’s not fair, Maria. You were out on patrol until—”
One stern glare from her had shut you right up.
“Fine.”
Sure, you missed it and looked forward to the day when you’d be able to get back into the saddle with your rifle in hand, but this way of life had grown on you. Certainly a lot more than you thought it would.
You enjoyed taking care of the house. Packing Ellie her lunch for school and checking her homework. Having a nice a meal on the table for the three of you to enjoy in the comfort of your own home instead of having to go down to the crowded mess hall for supper because you and Joel were both always much, much too tired after a long day out on patrol to bother with cooking.
With the baby due to arrive in the winter, looking after your little family had become your purpose, and you did not mind it one bit.
As strips of bacon sizzle in one pan on the gas powered stove, you crack a couple of eggs into another, knowing the kid is already on her way downstairs. You can hear the sound of her old, tattered low top sneakers that you have been trying to throw away for almost a year now squeaking on the kitchen tiles just as you finish plating her breakfast.
“Morning!” Ellie pipes, the loud plop of her backpack into a chair prompting you to turn around. “What’s for brea—whoa! Holy shit!” Her brown eyes widen in shock when she sees you and her jaw drops. “Dude.”
“Ellie,” you say her name warningly as you walk over to the table. “Don’t.”
“You’re bigger!”
With a playful glare, you set her plate down, along with her glass of orange juice. “Thanks a lot, you little jerk.” You feign offense. “You’re making your own eggs from now on.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ellie’s cheeks flush a shade of red and she squirms, sputtering apologetically, “I swear, I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just, your stomach, it didn’t—you didn’t look like this last night, you know?”
She’s fucking lucky that your raging hormones decided to take the morning off duty.
“You look different. I mean, you look great—”
“Ellie?”
“Yeah?”
“Just shut up and eat.”
“Deal.”
She shoots you a sheepish grin and sits down, scarfing down her food in her usual manner.
“You get your fractions homework done?”
“Yeah.” Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes. “Took me forever. I was up until fucking midnight.”
Amused, you offer, “Want me to check your work?”
“Sure.”
As Ellie inhales the rest of her breakfast, you pull out a green, single subject notebook from her backpack and look over her homework for miscalculations.
“So, uh, how are you feeling?” she asks after a minute.
“I’m feeling alright. I think the morning sickness finally stopped, so can’t complain.” Shrugging, you close the notebook and stick it into her backpack. “You did good, kid. Only got two problems wrong.”
“Man, I really wish we knew whether it’s a boy or girl,” Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “What do you want to have, anyway?”
“It doesn’t matter to me, Ellie,” you answer, honestly. Clocking the skepticism on her face, you laugh and say, “It’s true. As long as the baby’s healthy, that’s all I care about.” And you mean it. As an expectant mother in the post outbreak world where medicine is scarce, supplies are limited, and the closest thing you have to a hospital is the town’s old clinic, the only thing you can hope for is the smooth, safe delivery of a healthy child.
Before she can say anything, you both catch the sound of Joel’s heavy boots as he descends the staircase.
She quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, has Joel seen you yet?”
Grimacing, you shake your head. “No.”
“Well, I don’t wanna be here for all that awkward,” Ellie says, chugging the rest of her orange juice. She stands up and snatches up her backpack, along with her lunch bag, which you’d packed for her earlier that morning. Just as she’s about to whirl around on the heel of her sneaker and make a run for the front door, she pauses, watching as you make your way back over to the stove to light another flame. “Unless you want me to be?”
“I’ll be fine, Ellie,” you assure her. “Go on, get to school. Maybe you’ll be on time to class for once.”
“If you say so.” She wishes you luck and then bolts out of the kitchen, throwing a quick goodbye at Joel on the way out. “See ya later, old man!”
Nervously, you turn around and start cracking another two eggs into the pan. There’s no telling how he’s going to react.
Joel’s been fairly supportive since you’d found out you were pregnant, considering how unplanned it was. But you know him like the back of your own hand, and you know, despite the numerous times he’s denied it, that it has been weighing heavily on him. Each time you’d try to sit down to talk to him about it, he would brush you off and insist he was fine. But he wasn’t fine.
And you wish he would spit it out and tell you why.
In your periphery, you notice the stained glass butterfly he had hung in front of the window above the sink, the ornament catching and refracting the sunlight. Flecks of color dance across the walls in captivating patterns, brightening the space. You think of the sweet little girl he’d hung it for, the little girl he rarely talks about, that he keeps tucked away safely in his memory.
You bite back a small sigh.
By now, you’ve learned not to push him. Especially not about what he was feeling. He would tell you when he was ready.
“Who the hell lit a fire under her ass this mornin’?” Joel asks gruffly as he walks into the kitchen. “She ain’t ever this fuckin’ eager to go to school.”
“Not sure,” you reply in the most nonchalant tone you can muster as you use a spatula to scramble the eggs. Transferring them onto a plate, you add three strips of bacon, and then pour his coffee. “I have your breakfast ready, Joel. Have a seat.”
You hear a chair scrape against the tile.
“I keep tellin’ you I can make my own breakfast, darlin’.”
“And I keep telling you I don’t mind making it for you,” you quip, and you hear him grumble something under his breath.
Inhaling a deep, calming breath through your nose, you take the plate of eggs and bacon in one hand, and his cup of coffee in the other. Your fingers grasp the handle of his ceramic, owl mug in a near death grip. You exhale slowly, and then turn around to face him.
He sees your swollen middle and stiffens in his chair.
The tension is instantaneous. Palpable.
Uncomfortable.
Awkwardly, you shift from one foot to the other.
“Your belly,” Joel murmurs, a visible tick in his jaw as his gaze drags over your midsection. “S’bigger.”
“Yeah. It is. Guess I’m going to have to start trading for maternity clothes soon,” you remark, shuffling over to the table. Setting down the plate and mug of coffee in front of him, you take a seat across the table. Your eyes try desperately to meet his, but they refuse. There’s no way for you to decipher what he’s thinking. You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Can you please say something?”
He lightly clears his throat. “I’ll take you to Main Street on Saturday,” he tells you, picking up his mug. “I’ve got the day off from patrol. I’ll, uh, pick through some of my own things and see what I don’t need so we can make a trade for some clothes.” He pauses, then offers quietly, “In the meantime, you can wear my shirts. They might be more comfortable for you.”
You flash him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Joel.”
Sipping his coffee, he continues to avoid your gaze.
“Mhm,” is all he says.
Your smile falters.
It’s the middle of August.
The afternoon heat is sweltering. Unforgiving.
“Jesus, it’s a fuckin’ scorcher,” Tommy sighs, glancing over towards the lake where his mare, Maxine, is taking a drink beside his brother’s stallion, Phoenix. His raven curls are damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead. “Hotter than the devil’s fuckin’ balls out here, ain’t it?”
He’s met with silence.
Looking over his shoulder, he sees Joel leaning against a tree, his rifle in hand as he stares at the Grand Tetons in the distance almost like he’s in a trance. “Joel?”
Blinking furiously, Joel shakes his head. “Sorry, you say somethin’ to me just now?” He asks in a daze, pushing away from the lodgepole pine. “We headin’ out?”
“You’ve been actin’ real strange all afternoon,” Tommy observes, walking towards him with his own gun slung over his shoulder. “Either the heat is startin’ to get to you, or you’ve got somethin’ on your mind, big brother.”
Joel hesitates. His dark eyes flit to the other side of the lake where the other members of their afternoon patrol group are refilling their canteens with water.
“S’alright,” his younger brother says. “Don’t worry ‘bout them. Can’t hear us.”
Joel’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “She popped.”
“Huh?”
“Her belly finally popped. She’s showin’ now.”
Amused, Tommy lightly shakes his head. “Y’shouldn’t be so surprised, Joel. Was ‘bout time,” he remarks with a shrug. “What is she—like six months along now?”
“She’ll be six months in a couple weeks.” Joel wipes the perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand and sighs once more. “Look, I ain’t stupid, Tommy. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, but it still caught me by surprise. When I saw her, it became real for me. She’s got my kid in there. I’m gonna be a dad again.”
“You’re scared.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.
“Shitless,” Joel confesses, feeling his chest tighten.
“What are you afraid of?”
Joel almost laughs.
He doesn’t know where to start.
He’s afraid of everything.
“All of it, Tommy. I’m afraid for her, havin’ to give birth with no medicine,” he tells him, his voice breaking. “I’m afraid I won’t remember what to do with a newborn or that I won’t know how to help her durin’ those first few months—”
“This ain’t your first rodeo,” Tommy reminds him. “You did it once, and you did just fine, Joel.”
“That was over three fuckin’ decades ago. And it was a different world. If Sarah—” He stops, taking a second to catch his breath. The image of his daughter’s little face flashing in his mind feels like a violent punch to the gut. Even after all this time, it still knocks all of the wind out of his lungs. “When her mom had trouble breastfeedin’ her, I could head to the grocery store and buy her baby formula. If she got a real bad fever, I could load her up in the truck and drive her to the emergency room.” He glances down at his broken watch. “Besides, I was a lot younger, then. And I wasn’t half fuckin’ deaf like I am now. When Sarah would wake up cryin’ in the middle of the night because she needed a diaper change, I’d hear her. What if I can’t hear my own kid cryin’?”
“Joel—”
“I’m in my fifties. What if I can’t keep up because I’m too fuckin’ old?”
Tommy reaches out, clapping a hand onto his shoulder.
“Brother, I need you to take a fuckin’ breath,” he says, chuckling softly. “You’re puttin’ the weight of the world of your shoulders right now—you need to put some of it down. Look, we might not have everythin’ we used to before the world ended, but we make do with what we do have. Considerin’ just how many growin’ families we have and how many little ones we’ve got runnin’ around our town, I’d say it’s workin’ out pretty fuckin well.” He gives his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And as far as your ability to be a good dad, you’ve still got it, Joel. You know what to do, and so does she. I’ve seen her in action with my little boy, and it seems like she’s already got those maternal instincts, y’know?”
“Yeah, she does,” Joels agrees quietly, thinking of how you had stepped up to help him care for Ellie.
“Trust me, between the two of you, it’ll be alright.”
He peers at him. “You really believe I still got it in me?”
“I do.” Tommy smiles. “You never stopped knowin’ how to be a father, Joel. You’re gonna be just fine.”
Their patrol shift extends into the evening, turning into a double, and it’s late when he gets home.
“What the hell are you still doin’ up?” Joel asks when he finds Ellie sitting at the kitchen table, cursing to herself as she flips through the stale, yellowing pages of an old life science text book.
“What does it fucking look like, man?”
“Shouldn’t have waited until the last minute, kiddo—”
Ellie holds up a hand and cuts him off.
“Save the lecture for another time, dude. I’m busy.”
Joel rolls his eyes. “Finish up and get to bed. S’late.”
Without waiting for some smartass response, he turns on the heel of his boot and then heads upstairs to your shared bedroom. He flips on the lights only to find that you’re already in bed, fast asleep, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. He toes off his boots and leaves them by the door, being as quiet as he possibly can as he rummages through his top drawer for some clean boxers to sleep in.
He slips into the bathroom where he takes a quick, hot shower, scrubbing off that day’s sweat, dirt, and grime. After he’s dressed and his sopping wet, salt and pepper curls are haphazardly towel dried, Joel walks back out into the bedroom where he switches off the lights and climbs into bed next to you.
He lays on his side and he’s just about to close his eyes when he feels a light shift beside him. You roll over and curl into him, your belly pressing up against his curve of his spine.
He stiffens, freezing as if someone had just placed the barrel of their pistol against his back, their finger over the trigger.
Christ, get a damn grip, he thinks silently to himself.
Joel thinks about that morning in the kitchen.
He knows his reaction had hurt you. Or rather, his lack of a reaction. His shitty ways of coping aren’t your fault, and his struggle to come to terms with your pregnancy sure as hell isn’t your fault, either. He owed it to you to try harder to be the man you needed.
The man you both needed.
Joel’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt when he feels a soft flutter against his middle of his back, the spot right where your tummy is nestled—did the baby just move?
He lies still, waiting to see if he feels it again, and when he doesn’t, he rolls over to face you, causing you to stir.
“Joel?” you mumble his name, sleepily. “What time—?”
“Shh,” Joel soothes, pulling you into his bare chest. He kisses your temple. “S’okay, baby. Go back to sleep.”
He doesn’t have to tell you twice.
Within seconds, you’re asleep again, snuggled into him and snoring softly.
Lifting a hand, he hesitates, then rests it on your belly.
He waits.
And waits.
And waits.
And waits.
Until the minutes turn into hours.
Until dawn’s light filters in through the lace curtains.
Until he finally feels that little flutter again.
He feels it against the palm of his hand. Faint, nothing more than a brief whisper against his skin, but there is no mistaking it.
He’d just felt the baby’s movement.
There’s a sudden shift.
Tense muscles that had been painfully wound up since the moment you’d mentioned to him your period was a week late back in the spring loosen slightly—the breath he had been holding since he’d picked up that positive pregnancy test from the bathroom counter finally falls from his lips, fanning over yours.
His fears, his worries, his uncertainties about what lies ahead, they’re all still there, of course, but he finds they are now accompanied by a glimmer of hope, a sliver of optimism that maybe, just maybe, Joel doesn’t have to be as afraid as he is.
Joel’s eyes glaze over your face, warmth radiating in his chest when you breathe a little a sigh of content in your sleep as he gently rubs your stomach through his shirt.
With his hand still splayed over your belly, he closes his eyes and begins to drift off, falling into the most decent sleep he’s had in the last few months.
Maybe his brother’s right.
Maybe he will be just fine.
divider credit to @saradika 🤍
#tw pregnancy#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x pregnant reader#joel miller one shot#joel miller drabble#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#fic: snapshots
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as if
AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.
summary: eddie taunts reader daily, but… she kinda likes it? just never does anything about it. not until she has to tutor him, anyway.
pairing: bully!mean!perv!eddie munson x perv!fem reader
word count: 7,901 words
content/warnings: swearing, some angst at the beginning kinda, mention of death (barb), SMUT MDNI (y/n is 18), bully!eddie, mean!eddie, perv!eddie, bully kink (?), dominating, arguing, breeding kink, hate sex, brief masturbation mentions, mocking, teasing, anxiety kinda, spitting, invasion of privacy (eddie goes through her things), eddie’s a dirty lil pantie stealer and sniffer, y/n is a c*m sl*t, bulge kink(?), dacryphilia, groping, choking, daddy kink if you squint real hard, mentions of virginity (y/n is not a virgin), pet names (doll face, princess), degradation (use of slut). i think that’s all pls tell me if i miss anything!
a/n: i have to say tbh i don’t see eddie ever being a bully so this is technically like an au!eddie?…but also… uhhhh very hot. makes my brain wiggle with heat waves so here we are. hope you like it! <3
part two - part three
*
As if.
It’s a simple statement, really, and you meant no harm when you said it. It was just something to be said… that didn’t mean he didn’t hear it though.
That also didn’t mean it didn’t tick him off.
You were surprisingly pretty to be in the geek group, but in the cruel and tyrannical world of high school girls..? Alas, no amount of lip gloss or cute skirts could free you of the fact that you were smart. Not only smart, but a geek. A nerd—who was shy around most—and you got along with nearly all of the teachers because of how well-behaved and intelligent you were. And, on occasion—although you always tried your best to not come off this way—a bit of a know-it-all.
That was the final nail in your coffin, really. Correcting Carol Perkins in American History in front of everyone back in your freshman year. (Her sophomore year and already irritable about having to take a freshman course 2 years in a row). You meant well, but she had it out for you ever since. The tyrant, as it was, made it entirely impossible for you to make your way up the food chain.
So in your sophomore year of high school, back in Autumn of ‘83, you were among the peasants just like him—even as a senior (for the first time). He took a quiet interest in you. You were cute and soft-spoken. You were a sophomore, though, and the fact that you were 15 at the time made the 17 year old scrunch up his nose whenever he remembered. He could still look, though, right? There was no harm in that…
Nancy and Barb took notice of it all pretty quickly. The way that the senior would scan over your outfits everyday. The way that he might’ve smirked a little if you had to bend over to pick something up, simply staring at your behind rather than coming over to get your things for you. The pair would exchange glances that you were adorably unaware of, over his attention that you were also so endearingly oblivious to. One day, they finally burst over it in the hallway, and he overheard.
“I think a senior likes you.” Nancy teased, gripping her Geometry textbook to her chest.
“What?” You had let out a slight laugh, digging through you locker. “What makes you say that?”
“Oh my god, seriously?” Barb interjected. “Aren’t you supposed to be smart? Observant?”
You were all wide-eyed over that, pouty lips opening and then closing as you struggled to find your words before finally landing on a frustrated huff and a simple “Shut up.”
“He stares at you all the time.” Nancy pushed with a teasing smile.
“Like you can talk.” You teased, slamming your locker shut before resting your back against it. “Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington is totally all over you.” You smirked at the way her face instantly heated up.
“I- He- It’s not like that.” She insisted, completely flustered. And while Barb agreed with you, she wasn’t interested in letting you direct the conversation elsewhere.
“Besides he’s just a Junior. The guy who likes you is a Senior.” Nancy tacked on.
“Like there’s really that big of a difference?” You raised a brow.
“There is.” Barb scoffs.
“Well then if it’s such a huge deal… can’t you just tell me who it is?”
“You seriously don’t know?” Barb questioned and the ginger-brunette pair tilted their heads while they looked at you with a sort of exasperated disbelief. You just gave them that wide eyed look again and shrugged your shoulders.
Barb broke first with a scoff and a bright smile. “Eddie Munson. He stares at you all the time.”
Eddie Munson. He wasn’t popular by any means, but he was still a Senior. He was still attractive to you, and could still make an underclassmen blush if he gave them any attention simply because he was older and a little dangerous. He just didn’t show any interest in any of the other younger students, just a little curiosity towards you.
“Eddie Munson?” You had laughed a little, which made him furrow his brows as he listened in just around the corner of the hall at his own locker. You were being dismissive out of nerves, not out of any sort of malicious intent, but that’s not how he took your tone. After all, he was a cynical man.
“As if.”
*
After that he was a bit bitter towards you. Then he was a little mean. And then he was just plain cruel. He was an asshole. He was a bully.
Since his interest being pointed out to you, you occasionally glanced over at him to see if he really was staring. But he either acted like you didn’t exist, or whenever his gaze did meet yours the corners of his lips turned down and his brow frowned with disgust before looking elsewhere.
When Barb went missing, you and Nancy were temporarily joined at the hip in your efforts to figure out what happened. Then one day Nancy went cold on you. Started making excuses and hardly speaking to you otherwise. You didn’t understand, finding yourself completely alone as you scattered “Missing Person” posters all over Hawkins.
You had no idea what happened with Barb at the time and still had no clue what happened with your friendship with Nance to this very day. Maybe the loss was too much. Maybe Nancy couldn’t handle the reminder of your perfect trio. She was always closer to Barb than you. Maybe Barb missing and then turning up dead made it too difficult for her to face you. Maybe she was all caught up in two guys being completely obsessed with her, which admittedly made you a little jealous.
Soon enough you seemed to be completely off one another’s radars. It made high school even lonelier for you. You eventually found some new friends in other corners of the “Smart Kids” lunch table, but it was never like it was with Nancy and Barb.
So by the time he started getting a little mean, there wasn’t really anyone to protect you. Your new friends were skittish around the metalhead. Nance and Barb would’ve stood up for you once, but that support system was obliterated back in ‘83.
So when he shoved past you in the halls later in your sophomore year, no one gave it any thought. When he was pulling your hair in your Junior year then acting all innocent when you turned around to confront him, still no one cared. Now in your Senior year—and him in his third—whenever you thought he couldn’t be worse, he proved you wrong and did so with a devilish grin.
He pulled your hair. He tripped you. He stood behind you in line at lunch and would flip up the back of your skirt. He smacked your books out of your hands. He openly mocked you while leaning back in his chair at lunch with that smug look on his face. He mimicked your contributions in class under his breath, knowing you’d hear him and trip over your words. He snuck filthy messages into your locker that made your face burn with embarrassment and disgust—disgust for him and for the way his perverted words made your thighs press together. He would speed up whenever you were walking or biking home just to scare the shit out of you. He would take any opportunity to shove you or throw things at you or press his body up against yours in a derisive and vulgar manner—especially in gym class. He would “playfully” hump you from behind and nearly knock you over whenever you bent over and there was no teacher paying attention. Or spank you. Or pinch your ass.
He was horrible. Disgusting. Obnoxious. Crude. Vile. He made you go home with tears in your eyes most days, but the worst part was how much you liked the attention. You hated yourself for it. You wished you were running to the nearest adult to tell them every last thing he did to you. You wished you were standing up to him and calling him a disgusting pig in front of everyone which surely would’ve pulled out some “Ooo”s and maybe even some of the Seniors that hated him would’ve joined in. Maybe even had your back, even if it was temporary.
But you didn’t because by now when he pulled your hair, you had to refrain from whimpering or moaning. When he tripped you, you thought of the things he could do to you now you were already on your hands and knees. When he flipped up your skirt you always gasped and shoved him away, secretly hoping he’d do it again—even starting to wear only your cutest pairs of panties to school. When he smacked your books out of your hands, you actually liked that it was him causing you to bend over or get on your knees to collect your things again. When he decided to mock you from over at his spot at lunch, you got butterflies from the way he said your name and the way his dimples sunk into his cheeks. When he mimicked you in class, you tripped over your words because his voice and tangible presence got you all flustered and hot. When you got to your locker, you secretly hoped to see the torn off corner of some notebook page flutter onto the floor with the most obscene words. When he sped up to scare you, you thought about screaming something so bold at him that he would screech to a halt and reverse before telling you to get in his van, now.
You liked when he threw things at you like balled up paper to your cheek in class or a basketball to your side in gym. You liked when he shoved you or pressed against you because in his attempts to intimidate you with his touch and his proximity, it made your knees weak. You liked how he pinched your ass or gave it a little smack when you bent over and your teacher wasn’t looking. And you loved when he would thrust up against you whenever you were bent over and there was no teacher around at all, because his bulge pressed up against you (even while he was laughing devilishly) made you ache.
He was so utterly horrible to you, and yet when you found yourself grinding on your hand at night on top of your pink, white and yellow quilt—you were thinking about him and how mean he was. You were thinking about how mean he would be as he fucked you. Taunting you and teasing you and mocking you. You spasmed around your fingers and choked down your cries at the thought of him bullying your cunt.
It was all a fantasy, though. He never interacted with you longer than a few seconds, and was always with him in control. If you walked up to him and told him you wanted him to fuck you like the bully he was, he probably would’ve died laughing right before your eyes and told everyone he knew about your embarrassing lust for the guy who made your life a living hell. But now you were being cornered into spending time with him, and being faced with a real-life scenario where you were together made your palms sweat.
“I know he’s a difficult young man, but if you tutor him I’ll figure something out with the principal. Some sort of extra credit maybe.”
“There’s no one else that could tutor him?” You choked out, nerves on edge. Ms. O’Donnell gave you a sympathetic smile and shook her head.
“All busy.”
Busy, my ass you wanted to huff out. They were probably all avoiding him like the plague. O’Donnell was desperate to get his grade up and get him out of the damn school, which you didn’t blame her for, but god… why you?
“Okay…” You relented, a sad twitch for a smile when she sighed in relief and thanked you incessantly.
“I’ve already spoken to him about needing a tutor, I’ll let him know the good news, okay?”
You nodded with a meek “okay,” and tried to go on with the rest of your day as if you weren’t wracked with fear, excitement, concern over your excitement. You were on edge all day, and nearly jumped out of you seat when you were called to the office over the speakers about 5 minutes to the end of your last class. You swallowed anxiously, collecting your things and trying to ignore the “ooo”s over you being summoned to the principal’s office—assuming you were in trouble.
You trudged towards your destination, pausing when you spotted him slack in one of the chairs by the front desk that he frequented more than anyone else. You considered running in the opposite direction and making up some lie to Ms. O’Donnell the next day, but then Mrs. White beamed at you after happening to glance away from her clunky typewriter.
“Miss Y/L/N! Come on in, dear.” She spoke cheerfully in a way that went through you sideways. Eddie’s eyes shot up to you, smirking around the fingernail he was chewing at and clearly considering spitting it at you if Mrs. White hadn’t been paying attention. You toyed with the ends of your sleeves anxiously, listening to Mrs. White discuss the details Ms. O’Donnell had ready. What topics to go over (which was just about everything). How many times per week she wanted you to tutor him (at least once/week). The only thing left out was when and where.
“Oh that’s up to you two, hon.” She chirped. “Just compare your schedules.”
“It’s not in school? With a teacher around?” You questioned anxiously, but she was oblivious to your worries.
“Nope, no need for supervision. We like to give the tutors space from the teachers while they work with others, we find that the students that need help take to that better.”
“Sure do.” Eddie spoke up, and you nearly flinched at how close he sounded. You glanced over and he must’ve just gotten out of the hard plastic chair cause he was slightly leaned back to give his body a stretch causing his chest to puff out a little, his hands moving to rest by his hips as he tugged his jeans up.
“What? Scared of me ‘r somethin’?” He whispered playfully, a hand moving up to rest over his heart as he feigned offense before his act melted away to show his usual smirk. He winked at you, and you swallowed nervously as you looked back at Mrs. White again who was blissfully unaware of his malevolence.
“So here you go… those worksheets and… a time sheet.” The woman grinned as she placed the last paper on top before sliding everything over. “You just have to add the dates that you study together, and you both have to sign each time. Ms. O’Donnell said writing a quick synopsis of what you went over would be nice too, but not necessary. The most important thing is seeing a difference in Mr. Munson’s grades.”
“Sounds good to me, Pam.” Eddie smiled at Mrs. White whose sunny demeanor sunk into a more serious expression while you put the papers away neatly in one of your folders.
“What have we talked about, Mr. Munson? Use my first name again and you’ll find your butt in detention this Saturday for such disrespect. Again.”
He puts his hands up as if apologizing for his actions, but he was still grinning ear to ear. Mrs. White eyed him with a tight lipped scowl, then looked at you.
“Good luck.”
You were gonna need it.
*
The ride to your house in his rusty van was surprisingly quiet beyond his music. You were on edge which he enjoyed like always, but he was clearly saving the torment for when he was inside your home. You wished your parents were home, even if they were tucked away in another room, but they were both gone for the weekend to attend your Aunt’s wedding. Not that you’d let him know that.
“We’ll be studying in the dining room. And no funny business. My dad’s in his office and he doesn’t like being disturbed while he’s working.” You lied seamlessly, making your way over to the dining table, Eddie lazily sauntering along.
“Oo does daddy have a temper?” He teased in a whisper. “Gonna come out and spank you if you bother him too much?”
He gave you a mocking pout and your face scrunched up with irritation.
“Just sit so we can get this over with.”
“I’m sorry are you under the false impression that you’re in charge here, doll face?” He questioned, keeping his anger mostly disguised by his inquisitive tone.
“Well, I’m the tutor so-“ You scoff out, avoiding looking at him as you pulled all of your study materials from your bag.
“Yeah and that means something to me because…?” He drew out his last word as he spun on his heels and casually walked away.
“I- what-“ You sputtered. “What are you doing?”
“You know it’s awfully rude to have a guest and not give them a tour of the place.” He spoke casually, grabbing the ends of picture frames hanging on the walls to get a better look at them before letting them drop back again. You were hot on his heels, fixing every frame he left crooked. He paused at a picture of you from camp in a bikini with some of the friends you made that summer, smug and sucking at his teeth a little as he eyed the image of you.
“Real cute…still got it?” He looked over at you, his hair shifting over his shoulder as he eyed you. “Wanna model it for me? Make all this worth my while?”
Your cheeks were starting to turn pink.
“We have to study.”
“Eh.” He shrugs, and looks over to spot the staircase behind him. He slunk around the corner and made his way up the carpeted steps.
“Hey- hey! You’re not allowed up there!” You shout after him, rushing to follow after him. He was already on the second floor when he turned and shushed you.
“Don’t wanna make daddy angry, right? He’s hard at work if I’m remembering correctly.” He whispered with a joking concern for your father’s focus who wasn’t even here, and you worried he knew that. He continued on along the hallway and you stayed behind him, wishing there was something you could do to get him to stop. He opened doors along the way, inspecting the interior with a mild curiosity. The upstairs bathroom. Your parent’s room. The spare bedroom. Then-
“Ah, here we are.” Your bedroom at the end of the hall.
“Please get out of my room.” You pleaded, but he continued on his quest. He looked at the makeup on your vanity, toppling some of the products over like a careless cat before moving on. He toyed with any photos in your room, sniffed at the perfume bottles on your dresser.
“Eddie-“ You started, clenching your jaw as he found the perfume you wore the most often and sprayed some of it on the crotch of his jeans. Then he just kept a hold on it as he waltzed around your room, spraying it several times just to waste your favorite product.
“That’s rude.” You spoke up, your lips pouting slightly. He snickered at your comment, how you sounded like a wronged child.
“Aw well if you need to touch up your perfume at all, you know where to get it.” He grinned, pointing to his groin before continuing to go through your things. The concept was strange but still made you clench simply from the thought of having to rub at his bulge to get something you wanted. He didn’t waste that much of your fragrance, but the idea was still burning in your mind.
He muttered disapproving comments at the posters on your walls and the cassettes he rummaged through until he got bored. You were nervous about interfering even as he invaded your privacy, until he was opening your top drawer to go through your panties and bras.
“Hey! That’s too far!” You gasp, rushing over to slam the drawer closed again. He shoved you back and opened it again.
“Quit being so fucking uptight.”
“Quit going through things that don’t belong to you!” You talked back which was still surprising him every time you did, but certainly didn’t let it show.
“Yeah well quit pissing me off before I put you in your fucking place.” He seethes, giving you an angry warning look that felt like fire all over you. You wanted to cry, to tell him to stop being so mean to you, but it would be useless. You’d just end up feeling pathetic as he laughed over your misery. You just had to stand there and watch as he kept going through your underwear drawer.
“Ooh, cute. I don’t think I’ve seen these yet.” He clicked his tongue and blew out an impressed breath as he held up a black lacy number. “‘d love to leave some stains on these for you, doll face.”
“You’re disgusting.” You blurt out, but the thought of his cum spurting onto your new pair of panties made you feel warm. He smirked at your frustration, tucking the underwear into his pocket.
“Those are new!”
He shrugs, shoving the drawer closed again with enough careless force to knock over a picture frame perched on top. He doesn’t seem to care until he’s spinning around with his finger pointed at you and that wicked look on his face.
“You know what, though? You bring up a great point.” He tugs the lace from his pocket and holds it up to his nose before letting out a disappointed sigh. “Now that’s a problem. Still smell like whatever cutesy store you got ‘em from.”
You have a moment of hope that he’s trying to be nice and provide an opportunity to give them back to you, even if he’s going about it in a dirty way. But that doesn’t last long, even when he’s tossing them back to you.
“Why don’t you put ‘m on for me, huh? Then when you give ‘em to me on my way out I’ll have proof of how fucking wet I get you.” He spoke so smoothly as he got closer to you, that it almost blanketed the filth of his words as something soft or even sweet.
“As if.” You scoff out in a huff, and there’s a fury to his gaze that you don’t understand.
“Yeah… as if.” He murmurs darkly, getting closer to you. You swallow nervously and take a step back. “Cause fuck me, right? I’m just some good-for-nothing asshole who you wouldn’t give the time of day. Not a priss like you.”
“I-I’m not a-“
“Oh dad!” He’s suddenly shouting at the top of his lungs in a sing-song manner, his body whipped around to face your doorway, and your eyes go wide.
“Stop-“
“Hey! I just wanna meet Mr. Y/L/N! Spending time with your lovely daughter!” He spoke with a passionate respect that you knew was coming from a hateful place. He had gone to your doorframe and was listening for any kind of response. A verbal acknowledgement. The sound of steps or creaking floorboards to tell him there was actually going to be someone to confront him.
His grin became devious as he went to the steps again. “Hello?” He calls, dragging out that last vowel.
“Will you quit it!” You hiss, tears prickling at your eyes now at the thought of him realizing you were all alone. Just you and him. And that you had lied to him.
He was turning around, sure now that the only people in this house were you and him. His dimples were pushing into his cheeks again as he sucked at his teeth, approaching you at the doorway to your bedroom like a cocky killer. The kind that you saw in horror movies that knew they had their prey cornered and could have some fun with it.
Out of nerves and a need to keep a barrier between the two of you, you took a quick step back and went to slam your door shut so you could lock it, but he got there in time to stop in with an outstretched arm. He pushed it open so harshly that you were sure there would be a dent in your wall where the doorknob was forced into it.
God, you couldn’t stand the way he looked right now. So proud. So smug. That shit-eating grin that told you he knew he was winning. That fury from before still lingering. He noticed the gloss to your eyes and tuts as a mocking pout reaches his lips.
“Upset about somethin’, doll? Someone got you all worked up?”
You huff out your nose, your lips screwed into a frown and your eyes still stinging with unshed tears.
“You’re so… so… mean! I hate you!” You shout, and without even realizing it you had stomped your foot at your last statement. It makes him pause, his expression unreadable for a moment as he considers everything until it all lands on amusement. He crosses his arms over his chest, grin wild and his hair flowing with him as he tilts his head with intrigue.
“Did you just stomp your foot at me, princess?” He teases, and your face feels so hot you wonder if he can see the flush of pink even through your foundation. He can. You refuse to answer him, fighting back the urge to fully cry in front of him. He’s getting closer though until he’s brushing up against you and looking down at you. God, he’s so warm.
“Aw… such a sensitive girl. Look at you.” He murmurs as he continues backing you two up until you’re pressed against the wall, one of those posters he disapproved of crinkling against your hair. He’s making fun of you like always but there’s a softness around the edges of his words. Blurred by a desire to do just about anything to you. He reaches his hand up to drag the pad of his thumb over your pouty lower lip before bringing his hand down to grasp you by your chin.
“Bet your pussy’s just as responsive as the rest of ya, huh?” He whispers as he makes you look up at him. Your nostrils flare momentarily and you keep looking up at him but you still won’t speak and you still won’t let those tears fall.
“I bet your cunt is just as weepy. All hot and wet when I’m fucking you into shape.”
You bite the inside of your cheek to refrain from whimpering or letting your lips part for a soft sigh. Anything that would confirm how badly you want him to figure out just how right he is. But then his anger flares back up as he’s gripping your jaw now, squeezing just enough to make it uncomfortable.
“Speak when you’re spoken to.” He demands in a low voice with a sort of growl to it that makes your knees weak. You part your lips as you consider answering him like you’re told, and he raises his brows while waiting. Then, in a brazen defiance, you spit in his face instead.
He’s so solid it’s almost like he doesn’t care. Not a flinch or a crack in his demeanor. Then he’s moving his hand from your jaw to your throat and gripping onto it enough that you gasp.
“I’ve been spat on my whole fucking life, you think that’s gonna make a difference here, princess? Think that’s gonna make me respect you? Think you’re brave?”
Your hands reach up to rest over his on your neck, a mewl vibrating from the back of your throat. He leans in closer to your face, your lips parting wider as he tightens his grip.
“It just makes me think you’re stupid.” He finishes before spitting directly into your open mouth. He’s releasing you from his grip right after, wiping your saliva from his cheek while you catch your breath. A soft moan escapes you before you can keep it at bay and his inflated ego is tangible. He’s eyeing you with a sort of amazed intrigue that pulls him back to you, his arms lifting to place his hands on the wall on either side of your head.
“You like it, don’t you?” He laughs and you shake your head furiously, but he isn’t buying it. “You could’ve gotten my ass suspended—hell, even expelled—ages ago. And yet…?”
“I just felt bad that you’re such a fucking idiot.“
“Dirty girl.” He hisses inward through his teeth as if burned by your words, but you were just egging him on.
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” He wondered in a soft tone, hand back to your jaw as you stayed quiet. “Will you kiss daddy with that mouth?” He added with a lazy grin, exuding dominance and arrogance.
You became a little slack jawed at the implication, and he was on you. Hand still on your jaw, he pressed his lips to yours. You feigned protest at first with a few kicks and smacks, but then he had your wrists pinned against the wall and you sunk into the kiss. He kept you pinned for a few moments, until he was sure you were relaxed. He dropped his hands down to completely engulf your waist in his arms, and keep you pressed against him. The kiss was filthy with anger-fueled lust and slips of moans on your end and grunts from his.
“I hate you.” You whispered in between kisses, his hands moving to grip your ass now.
“Yeah you do.” He chuckled proudly against your lips before beginning to trail his lips down your jaw to your neck. Your eyes fluttered closed, hands settled on his muscular back as he sucked and bit at your neck, messy hair tickling you. More sounds slipped from you with no attempt to hold them back, a teary whimper hanging on your lips after he bit down on your neck hard enough to pull a yelp from you.
“Gonna mark you all up…” He muttered against your skin, making your head swirl.
“Gonna have you walking into school and have everyone know who you belong to.” He pulled back now, breathless and his full lips all pink with attention. His eyes were dark with lust, and it all made you whimper. The sound made him laugh in disbelief.
“Yeah? Such a slut. Bet you can’t wait to walk in with my hickeys all over you. Might even fuck you in the back of my van beforehand. Make you go to class full of my cum.”
You almost can’t believe him or yourself as you nod your head dumbly with a desperate pout. He groans at the sight and pulls you to him again, his lips back on yours as his hands reach down to hook under your thighs and lift you up. You’re quick to wrap your legs around his waist, a soft cry escaping when he starts grinding against you. He’s so hard and feels so pressed into his jeans, you’re both afraid and alight at the thought of just how big he probably is.
Eddie made his way over towards your bed until his legs made contact with your bed frame. He pulled away from the kiss to drop you on the bed carelessly. You lifted your torso up by digging your elbows back into your mattress, legs bent up at the knee and parted for him while you watched him undo his belt. He noticed you staring, and his gaze traveled along your form. Your knit sweater. Your pleated skirt.
“Take that shit off.” He said with a slight jut of his chin in the direction of your top, hands paused at the waist of his jeans and boxers. You hesitated at first, mostly at his hesitation to pull down his bottoms, but also out of nerves that your body wouldn’t be good enough. He made fun of you for just about everything. Surely he would tease you for that too.
“Did I fucking stutter?” His voice rose just a touch, his expression showing his impatience. At that your eyes went a bit wide again, and you lifted your sweater over your head and then the t-shirt you had on underneath. His hand was under his undone jeans, palming himself through his boxers as he looked over your naked torso.
“Bra too.” He murmured, and your nerves subsided from the way he looked at you. It was all hunger and lust and some impatience, but that was common. But no mockery. He wasn’t gearing up to make fun of your body cause he’s been waiting to see it. It was even better than he imagined, and he stopped a groan in his throat when you unclasped your bra and put it off to the side.
“Fuck…” He sighed out, squeezing his hard cock in his fist. You arched your back, which he initially enjoyed, until he realized your hand was moving to unzip the back of your skirt.
“Hey.” His harsh tone broke through, his free hand slapping your thigh. “Did I say take the skirt off?”
Your lips parted, and he jerked his head forward with a wide, frustrated gaze. It was as if he was saying “Hello? Earth to Y/N?”
He rolled his eyes as you shook your head no, and moved your hands away. He muttered under his breath and settled himself between your legs before deciding you weren’t close enough. His hands grasped your thighs to pull you closer, a surprised giggle bubbling in your chest from the action. He didn’t acknowledge it because he was trying to not let it show that it made him want to smirk. Just like when you get all teary-eyed. Or stomp your feet. Or finally get enough nerve to talk back. Even getting a giggle out of you made him smug, despite the fact that he had only ever seemed to enjoy making you miserable.
Eddie flips your skirt up onto your stomach, licking his lips at the sight of the light blue cotton panties he had already seen in the lunch line today. He finally tugged his jeans and boxers down below his balls, and started pumping his dick in his hand. Your nerves lit up at the sight of it—thick and with a bit of a curve to it. You wanted to see more of him, but the likelihood of that was slim to none. He enjoyed the control he had in this relationship, and that meant he liked having you almost completely naked in front of him while he was practically still dressed. He smirked as pre-cum beaded up on his tip and let it drip onto the fabric of your underwear. He dipped down to drag his tip along your covered slit to make a mess of your panties with his pre-cum. You inhaled sharply at the feeling, biting the inside of your lip whenever he nudged your clit.
“I like these panties…” You complained, knowing how much better it would be for him to ruin a pair of underwear you love.
“Aw…” He tutted, leaning over you as he mimicked the pout on your lips. “Don’t tell me that cause then I might have to cum all over them. ‘N I thought you wanted it inside.”
You mewled again, nodding your head which he mimicked too. The little shake of your head, the sound you made.
“Such a whiny, needy girl.” He said as if he cared. He hooked a finger under your panties and tugged at them, fighting the fabric over your legs one handed before holding them up to his nose. His eyes were trained on the sight of your sopping pussy as he breathed in, his cock twitching in his fist. He cursed under his breath, only pulling the fisted cloth away to stuff into his back pocket. His now free hand moved forward to drag his fingers through your slit, proud to feel how soaked and puffy you were already.
“You a virgin, doll?” He purred, tilting his head with a sickeningly sweet grin, the curled corners of his lips devilish. It was saccharine and mean. He figured you’d say yes because no one at school seemed to want you, but then you shook your head.
You lost your virginity at that summer camp you were at in the picture he was ogling earlier. It was awkward and felt strange, and you didn’t have much experience beyond that, but you weren’t a virgin. You thought he’d like you better this way anyways, already ready for him to fuck, but it ticked him off.
“No?” He asked, pushing two thick fingers into your cunt and making you gasp. The pressure on that sweet spot right at your entrance was buzzing with pleasure, but it still ached a little. “Guess you’re the little slut I always thought you were, hm?”
He was pushing his fingers in deep and curling them up into that spongy spot that made you whine and your thighs tremble.
“Who is he?” Eddie urged, his expression back to the irritation you were familiar with. You weren’t answering, all of your focus on his thick fingers and the rings that adorned them pinching the edge of your entrance.
“Who. Is. He?” He repeated, moving his face a bit closer to yours in bursts with every word, his head tilting to the left then to the right then back to the left to punctuate his words. He was slowing it down for you like you were dumb, and his fingers stopped moving—all of this making you huff.
“No one-“ You whine hopelessly, and he was starting to pull his hand away but you shot yours out to grip his wrist and keep his fingers deep between your legs. “No one, no one important.” You continued. “It was at summer camp, he’s not even from here. Please-“ you nearly sobbed, and it was enough to make the man groan as he leaned over you.
“Oh… please what, doll face?” He murmured, hand that had just been wrapped around his dick sinking the mattress down beside your head.
“Please- please don’t stop.” You whimper softly and he smiles sweetly down at you while pulling his hand away anyways. It was just for a second, enough to make you want to cry, but then he was plunging them back into your fluttering hole again. He added a third finger, barely giving you even enough time to enjoy the first two, the stretch making your lips part a little.
“God, you’re desperate.” He snorted, his hand angling a bit differently to let his thumb catch your clit. He watched with pride as your head tilted back and your back arched. Your thighs kept twitching and your walls were clamping down around his fingers more and more—he could tell you were close.
“Eddie…” You drawled, breath catching as your body braced itself for the mind-altering pleasure of your orgasm, but just as you approached the top—he pulled his hand away. You let out a distressed cry that made him laugh. He cooed at you, his hand that had been pumping his cock moving to rest on your cheek. Knowing where it had been made it even better, made it filthier. It made you wonder how many times he had just touched his dick before touching you.
“That’s for letting some random loser fuck you.” He whispered after leaning down so close that his nose was occasionally brushing against yours.
“‘m sorry…” You whine, tears of pleasure and pain having already slid down from your eyes and back towards your ears—leaving your hair damp and cold.
“You’re sorry, what?” He urged, nudging his tip against your folds.
“I’m sorry I let someone else take my virginity.” You were a blubbering mess, teary-eyed and needy.
“You’re gonna make up for it, though, right?” He purred, his tip already pressing into you and you nodded enthusiastically with a cry, your hips twitching forward.
“That’s my girl.”
Your lips parted, your lower lip quivering when he pushed into you until his hips were flush with your ass. You let out a sort of choked whimper and he groaned.
“Fuck you’re tight…” He sighed with content, sliding back before sinking back in until his tip was kissing your cervix. “Not even a virgin and I’m still gonna have to work to split this cunt open, huh?”
He was grinning again over that, over the grip your walls had on him from such a foreign stretch. It ached in the best way possible except for the occasional thrust that pinched and made you yelp out a small “ow.”
“S-so big… you’re so big…” You babble, your mind fuzzy. Your pupils were all blown out and you watched him fuck into you like it was the best dream you ever had. You eventually tilt your head back, letting out a happy hum as your hips push outward to feel him as deeply and as harshly as possible. He mimicked the sounds you made and the expressions you made from his thick cock hitting all the right places and stretching you enough that you knew you were going to be sore. All day tomorrow you were going to get brief pangs of aching that would remind you of how full you were of Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He was all you could focus on, and you didn’t even realize you had been whimpering his name over and over under your breath until he made fun of you for it.
“Fuck you.” You huffed defensively, only for his amusement to bolster.
“Ha!” He cackled right in your face as you looked up at him with glossy eyes, pink cheeks and pouty lips. “Already are, sweetheart.”
Soon enough your sounds annoyed him though, especially the more demanding they got. Harder. Faster. Slower. More. Please. So he flipped you over onto your stomach and had his hand on your head to press your cheek into the mattress as he mounted you again—all with a casual “God, just shut up.”
At this new angle he was driving into you with a force that reverberated throughout your whole body every time he slammed into your cervix or that gushy part of you. You felt dizzy and breathless, every stroke of his cock against your ridged walls shooting off sparks. After being so close just from his hand to now, you were steadily approaching an orgasm again—just praying he’d let you keep it this time. He must’ve noticed because his free hand was reaching down to rub your clit. Your eyelids fluttered, a sob being muffled by the comforter you were biting down on. The sound of skin smacking, the tired springs of your bed squeaking, Eddie’s panting and grunting, the chain of his wallet clinking every now and then, the wet and pornographic sound of his cock plunging in and out of your pussy—it all seemed so loud for a second and then felt muffled the next as you came undone around him. You moaned out his name, whimpering cries on the tail end. You could feel your walls fluttering around him, clamping down and then blossoming back open then clamping down again in a mind-swirling rhythm.
“That’s a good girl…” He purred in a way that might’ve been too sweet from him if it wasn’t laced with a condescending tone. “Gonna cum in you, ‘kay?”
“Uh-huh-“ You moan, body aching as he picks up the pace again, fingers tangled in your hair with a painful grip. You can’t see him, but his head is tilted back completely blissed out as he fucks into you. You felt amazing, even better than he imagined which was pretty damn astonishing considering the pedestal he already had your pussy on in his imagination. He was so close, and a brief thought of getting you pregnant nearly sent him over the edge. He was mean. So fucking mean. That was the most devious thing he could do. Fill you up and make you all round with his kid.
“Shit-“ He pants out. “Gonna fill you up, babe.”
“Please-“ You beg, pulling an incredulous chuckle from him.
“Such a good girl… always take everything I give her.” He breathes out, leaning down to trap your body between him and your bed, his hand moving your hair away from your face. “Takes everything I give her at school, and she’s gonna take everything I give her in her bed, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, please-“ You sob, gasping out with the next few sharp thrusts against you until there was this warm feeling blooming inside you as he groaned against your back. He gave a few more thrusts after cumming inside, letting out happy puffs of air. You remembered how content that guy was when he unloaded into his condom inside you in camp. That blissful look on his face before he pecked your lips then lied next to you. Eddie didn’t bother with a condom, didn’t press a little peck to your lips and he wasn’t so quick to pull out either. When you squirmed a little he shifted so he was pushed up deeper into you, pulling a gasp from you which made him smirk against your skin.
Eventually he leaned up to bite your shoulder and then he slid out of you. You were still a little out of it, purring out a whiny hum as you nuzzled your quilt. Your legs were still spread and slightly bent up while you laid there on your stomach, and as he adjusted his softening dick back into his boxers he saw his cum slowly started to seep out of you and onto your comforter. Ever the gentleman, once his pants were zipped back up and his belt was buckled he landed his palm on your ass cheek and turned you over as you huffed over the action.
“See you Monday.”
“But we… we have to…” You fought to find your words through the haze. Study. You had to study.
“Bye, doll face!” He called out as he made his way downstairs.
You pouted a little, wanting to beg him to come back and stay with you. Maybe even go another round, but you were so spent that you just laid there.
When you got your energy back enough to force you to get up, you went to pee and clean yourself up before heading downstairs. Unsure of what to do with yourself, you made your way over to your backpack and you spotted the writing on the time sheet. A smile tugged at your lips. Instead of the date he wrote his phone number, and for the synopsis of today’s tutoring session he wrote “sex ed” with a winky face, and then signed where he was supposed to.
God, you were so fucked. And you were going to need a new time sheet.
#eddie munson smut#mean!eddie munson#bully!eddie munson#perv!eddie munson#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x yn#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson#eddie munson stranger things#stranger things smut
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Missed target - Azriel
Here it is! So many people asked to be tagged on this I got OVERWHELMED. Thanks for the love!I'm thinking about a second part where Azriel decides to repeat all the missed efforts and treat you like the queen you are. Let me know what you think.
Plot: Azriel is convinced Elain was made for him. Three sisters for three brothers, and no one can make him change his mind. But someone or something is determinated to change the course of fate on his behalf. No matter how hard he tries.
The Suriel 1
The Suriel watched the shadowsinger sharpen his blades in the forest, oblivious to his presence. Not even his shadows could detect the ancient creature, and he was proud of that. Of all the beings that he had seen, all the people that had summoned him, Azriel was who drew his curiosity.
Maybe the male in front of him didn’t remember, or maybe he did but had decided not to tell a soul about it. The Suriel did remember, and he had been observing since that night where a young, scarred and devasted Azriel had summoned him.
“What is wrong with me? Why does nobody love me? I want to know – I want to know if someone will love me, please”
The child didn’t understand what a Suriel was, or what type of questions he could answer. Still, the Suriel held the sobbing kid for one night, just one night, and let himself wonder what would it be to feel, to dream, like fae and humans did.
Something changed in the male’s stance, a muscle twitching in his left wing, and the Suriel knew he didn’t have much time left before he was noticed. He risked another glance at the unmoving figure, shadows surrounding the clearing where he stood.
As he vanished from the sight, the Suriel smiled briefly, oddly happy that that kid’s broken questions were about to be answered.
Missed date
Azriel liked Elain, more than he should. He liked her innocence, the way her hair fell over her shoulder, her full lips and thin waist. He liked the dresses she wore and the flowers she grew, even the way her voice sounded when she said his name. He liked liked her, and felt like a foolish teen when she was around.
Rhysand had warned him against it, and the Archeron sister had a mate – but still, Azriel hoped Elain would like him back. Even though he had been with plenty of women before, that time it felt different, and he didn’t know why.
Ignoring the signs against his desires, he had decided to act on his feelings.
Azriel had invited Elain to have dinner with him that night, in a lovely restaurant in Velaris. Sure, he might have said Cassian and Nesta were coming, and then proceeded to invite the couple knowing they wouldn’t even make it out of the bedroom with their clothes on. The plan had gone just fine – Cassian and Nesta had talked about it during lunch time, giving the impression it was just a friendly dinner, and then proceeded to lock themselves in their room for the rest of the day. Elain had smiled and asked about the hour, and Azriel had chosen his best shirt.
But the Cauldron musth have had other plans, because another minute passed by and he was sitting by himself in the restaurant, getting strange looks from the staff.
“Are you ready to order?”
He looked up to the waiter, with a tight smile on his face. Azriel guessed they were debating if kicking him out was worth angering the spymaster of the court.
“Still waiting” he grumbled, looking to the closed doors. “What time is it?”
“Nine thirty, sir. Would you like to… drink something?”
“Water is fine”
They had agreed to meet at nine, and part of him refused to think he had been stood up. That sweet, charming Elain who blushed under his gaze wouldn’t show up. He tried to come up with a reason behind her absence, and was sure there was a reasonable one, but he felt his excitement die as the clock ticked away.
Azriel pursed his lips when the waiter didn’t leave, not meeting his eyes. He would leave, but he would wait a little longer. For her sake, he would wait until the sun came up. The male cleared his throat and Azriel stared at the plants decorating the entrance.
It was a nice plant.
“Is the person you’re waiting for coming soon?”
“If she was, I wouldn’t be waiting here” his words were bitter, not towards the waiter, but at the situation.
“Maybe you could move to the counter and wait there, sir? I… there are customers waiting and – “
Before the man could dig his own grave further, Azriel pushed his chair back and walked towards said counter with his jacket on his arm. He refused to look at the waiter and let him know just how embarrassed he was, how disappointed in himself and in her.
The restaurant had a small counter where some couples shared their food and friends drank loudly. He damned his luck for choosing the busiest day to be stood up. Scanning the crowd, he found an empty seat at the corner and sat on a stool, ordering a beer.
Alcohol would only make it worse, but he guessed he was already done for. Ten more minutes, he promised himself. If Elain didn’t walk through those doors in the next ten minutes, he would leave and apologize to Rhys for his stubbornness.
Two minutes passed by, and he grew sick of watching the couple in front of him giggling in secrets.
Another three, and he counted each plant that decorated the restaurant. There were twenty-five without the artificial ones.
Seven minutes after his first beer, the waiter asked him if he wanted anything else and he just growled back.
His fingers were clenching painfully around the hem of his jacket when the ten minutes passed by. He was ready to get up when something sweet and floral hit his nose, leaving his mind blank for a second. Azriel blinked surprised at the smell, distinct from the elegant ones in the restaurant. With half smile, he turned to his right hoping to see Elain, pleasantly surprised with her choice of perfume.
Only that the woman who sat next to him wasn’t Elain, but another fae woman with a similar smell. Azriel scanned her outfit before you noticed him, before he could reprimand himself for checking you out.
You were wearing a loose blue and bright skirt with an elegant top, that left part of your collarbone visible. He felt something rush to his chest up to his cheeks while he stared at the smooth skin, and he willed himself to look up to your face.
“Guess this is where they discard the stood up, hm?” you looked at him and he blinked surprised. “I’ve been sitting next to the window for an hour now. I don’t think he’s showing up”
“Who?” Azriel asked dumbly, not thinking anything better.
“My friend set me up on a blind date, but he didn’t show up. At least the bread was good” you shrugged, finally looking away from Azriel. “Hi. Can I get a soda?”
Azriel felt his previous resolution of leaving the restaurant dissolve. You smelt just like her, but so different at the same time. Your voice still reverberated on his chest as you waited for your drink, stealing glances at the silent male at your side. It was strange for him to have his throat swallowing back the words that he wanted to say, have his mind blank of any comeback.
But as he stared at you, he wondered if you were a witch and had casted a spell on him.
“Are you… my date?” you finally asked when your soda came back, looking him up and down. “I’ve seen you standing here for a while”
“I’m Azriel”
“I don’t know the name of my date” you stated, and Azriel just prayed that you wouldn’t notice the shadows he couldn’t control revolving around your feet. “I’m Y/N”
“No”
He begged himself to say something else, to break the awkward silence or leave. After all, he had gone to that restaurant to meet Elain, not a stranger who had been stood up. But all the wit and intelligence that had won him the title of Shadowsinger and Spymaster seemed to seep away through his pores, and he couldn’t get back any of it.
You smiled at him tightly and turned to look around, finally breaking eye contact. Azriel got up without saying anything else and walked towards the doors, leaving a generous amount of money on the counter. You didn’t say goodbye and he didn’t bother looking back, his body stiff with your awkward encounter.
When he arrived to the house, he found a very regretful and very sick Elain who had been in bed all afternoon. She apologized again and again until he forced her back in bed and tucked her in. They agreed they would repeat again, sometime, but Azriel found himself less excited than that morning. He didn’t blame her – he couldn’t, when he had seen how her knees trembled with coughs and had heard her stuffy voice.
As he laid down that night in this enormous bed, his shadows didn’t whisper about Elain or brought back her smell, that most nights didn’t let him sleep. They caressed his hands in silence, with the memory of a sweet, floral smell that didn’t belong to the girl he liked.
The market
Rhysand and Cassian were away for a week, and while Azriel usually missed his brothers, that time he was beyond himself. Not only he wouldn’t be hearing Nesta and Cassian’s late-night activities, but he would be alone with his favorite Archeron sister, since Feyre and Nesta had decided to leave too.
There were plans for them, big ideas that he had crafted the previous night as he laid awake in the dark. The first one, most important, would be to find an excuse to talk to Elain.
She had left for the market as Azriel completed his morning training, and the male didn’t miss how she blushed at his presence. She had explained briefly her plans to him and had left in a rush. Azriel, who religiously trained each day, decided to postpone his activities and refill the house’s pantry.
It took him a while to come up with something to buy, even longer to gather the courage to follow his plan. By the time he was walking through the lively market-street, he was certain Elain would be leaving.
But he was lucky, because he spotted the familiar head a few stands away. Azriel felt the usual acceleration of his heart rhythm, the blood rushing to his head. His wings fluttered and he walked with little decision to where Elain was buying some fruits.
It seemed, with so little decision, that she moved away before he could reach him.
The game of cat and mouse continued for what felt like forever, Azriel only sniffling her before she left to a new stand. The street seemed endless, and the buyers too talkative and pushy. They bumped against his wings, apologized, and proceeded to block his way in awe for five to ten seconds.
When he saw Elain holding enough bags to cause him a backpain, he decided pushing people in return was worthy and walked faster.
Before she could complain, he picked up her bags from her arms carefully, resisting the urge of flinching at how heavy they were.
“Here, let me” Azriel extended his free arm, watching without looking up as it filled slowly with more bags. “These are heavy. What do we need so much food for?”
“Are you planning to eat it with me?”
Azriel looked up and stared into a pair of bright eyes that certainly weren’t Elain’s. Nor was your hair pulled back in a ribbon, or the worn-out cape hanging from your frame. His shadows helpfully recognized you from the missed date and awkward encounter, and he blinked surprised.
He opened and closed his mouth. Proudly, he could argue that only few times someone managed to make him speechless. But he didn’t find anything to say as he held half of your bags, looking a caught thief.
Your smile lowered at his surprise. Surely, you expected a kind stranger helping you with your heavy groceries, not him. Just as he didn’t expect you.
“Can I… have that back?” you asked when he didn’t move, only stared at you. “Please?”
The standard, cordial reaction would have been to apologize and carry the bags for you. If Azriel’s brain hadn’t stopped functioning, he would have explained he had confused you with someone else and would be on his merry way to find Elain.
But his heart wouldn’t stop beating stubbornly against his chest, loudly on his ears. His shadows, that you had noticed by now, were tangling themselves between your knees, holding part of the weight themselves.
He tried not to make it too obvious when he inhaled your essence, so characteristically nice. Instead of doing any of the rational things, he dropped your bags to the ground with a loud crack and a wet splash and turned around, disappearing into the crowd.
The flowers
Feyre had given him the directions, and he had quickly written them on a piece of paper as his high-lady prepared Nyx’s bottle, cradled the fussy baby and ate her own breakfast.
He was extremely thankful for her help, because she had also had the idea to give Elain a bouquet of flowers. Azriel felt bad about ignoring her for the two days they were alone, too busy trying to regain what was left of his dignity after the market. So, he had prepared the flowers and put them together with a blue ribbon, and had asked Feyre where Elain was staying.
He had walked through the streets of Velaris with a content smile, humming to himself in silence. His shadows were active that morning, dancing between his feet and knees, and tangling themselves in the flowers. He couldn’t explain the sudden urge of joy if not for the imminent encounter with Elain, who had been on his mind for two days straight.
The rays of sun warmed his cheeks, and he felt extremely lucky.
It only took him ten minutes to reach his destination, a busy street in the center of the town. People sneaked glances at him and whispered, as if he wouldn’t hear them. Azriel stopped in front of a white wooden door. It looked old and worn, and matched the pots with flowers on the window. It was a cozy house, exactly what Azriel had imagined Elain’s house to be.
She had moved out a few months ago, claiming she needed her own space. And he had yet to visit her place – which, once he realized he was about to do it for the first time, made him kind of nervous.
Azriel stood in front of the door, his frame covering the whole space. Between his shoulders and wings he shadowed it, and he felt weirdly insecure. Something fell to the ground inside, probably a bag, and even though he knew Elain would be inside, Azriel recoiled back.
In a pathetic attempt to make his intention known, he raised his fist.
Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.
Don’t throw them on her like a burning pot.
Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.
Try to smile without looking creepy.
Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.
He heard soft humming from the inside, and the fact that it was the exact same melody he had been humming on his way there threatened to give him a heart attack. Before he could think better, he quickly searched his pocket for a pen while trashing for the tag of the bouquet.
In the meantime, he heard the humming coming closer and closer to the door. It was a sweet melody, one he had loved since he was a kid, that brought a selfish smile to his face. Who was the world to tell him they weren’t meant to be, if their minds aligned like that?
Azriel found the pen and, leaning against the brick wall, scribbled down a quick note on the tag. His handwritten was shaky, not neat nor perfect, and he felt a bead of sweat rolling down the corner of his neck.
Once he was finished, he tucked the tag between the stems and placed the bouquet delicately on the ground. He mentally kicked himself at his stupidity, and when he rose back, he crossed his arms in front of his chest.
He was the shadowsinger. The spymaster. People feared him, respected him, and he had had enough women in his bed to know he could get them. They liked him, men and women, and he had never had an issue before. And there he was, leaving a bouquet of flowers like a coward because he couldn’t knock.
All because of the stupid melody.
His impulsive thoughts won again and he crouched to write down his name at the bottom of the note. Only having his good luck ran out and knock his head against a pot when he rose back up. Azriel cursed under his breath at the sharp pain, but wasn’t fast enough to catch the pot.
He didn’t know what worried him most – that he was sad because the humming stopped, or that it stopped. Azriel didn’t need his fae hearing or shadows to hear the approaching steps, and he quickly retreated into the darkness. Just as he appeared in the other corner of the streets, hidden from the public’s eye, the door opened.
“Hello?”
Azriel let his lips part in surprise when Elain didn’t peer at the street, but you. The stranger with a memorizing smell that had been stood up. The girl whose bags he had dropped in the middle of the street.
You were wearing a stained apron, and had been clearly cooking. Azriel felt the sudden need to know what. What you were doing that made you look like that, that made Azriel’s rebellious heart jump.
He watched as you looked to both sides of the street, smiling to acquittances and finally noticing the bouquet. Your eyebrows almost rose to your hairline and an adorable shade of pink covered your chest. You quickly covered your mouth, but Azriel’s bones reverberated at the sound of your giggle. He found himself wondering if you were curling your toes in your shoes.
Leaning down, you picked the flowers and Azriel’s stupid smile, that had no right to be on his face, dropped.
He had signed it.
Your eyes scanned the tag and read through his words at a sickening speed. Sorry about last week, hope I wasn’t too much of a dick. Yours, Azriel
His shadows swallowed him before he could ask the Cauldron to dig a hole and swallowed him, but he could still see your content smile and have the utter and complete realization that your smile shadowed Elain’s.
The dance
“When have you ever cleaned up so nice?” Cassian asked him as he invaded his room, with no warning.
“Whenever you’re not around to see it” he answered back, not tearing his eyes away from his tie’s knot on the mirror. “So I don’t eclipse you”
Cassian scoffed and threw himself on the perfectly made bed. Azriel didn’t bother asking him to move, because while any other time he would have kicked him out, his bed was the farthest point from his work desk. Where, between patrol reports and court’s correspondence, were a month’s worth of letters between you two.
His hands trembled even more at the thought of his brother finding about it. He was already nervous enough at the premise of dancing with Elain tonight, at the thought of her wearing the bracelet he had sent her that matched his tie. Azriel didn’t need to think about the pointless, certainly not important letters that he shared with you.
“Nesta has kicked me out of our room” the male proclaimed. “She’s determinated to get to the ball on time. As if me not seeing her now would change our early departure”
“You’re disgusting” Azriel met his brother’s stare through the mirror.
“And you’re jealous. When was the last time you got laid?” Cassian raised her eyebrows suggestibly. “Anyone in mind for this particularly night?”
“Nesta, if you leave her unsatisfied”
“Can it be me if I’m unsatisfied?”
Cassian’s laugh boomed through the room and took Azriel’s mind out of the last hours’ frenzy. He had wanted to be excited, had been thinking about Feyre’s birthday ball for months now. Thinking about how Elain and him would dance, proving Rhysand that they were a match and should be together.
Indeed, Azriel had been excited about it until a month ago. When he found himself cutting his encounters with Elain short when a note came through, falling asleep with thoughts of a different woman on his mind.
He hadn’t seen you since the incident of the flowers, and his intention was to never see you again. But then, he had found a note on his training room, delivered by Nuala. I’m glad we both agree you were a dick that day, but if my forgiveness has you loosing nights of sleep, I forgive you. Although, for the next time, don’t be disappearing from a crime scene – those flowers were expensive.
Azriel had found it and had scoffed a laugh, a sound foreign to his ears. He had replied and had sent Nuala back to your house, with an apologetic smile.
Seems that I keep encountering you when I don’t mean to. Those flowers were for someone else, but I’m happy to hear that I will be sleeping soundly from now on. Sorry for your pot. If it makes you feel better, fate was my witness and gifted me with a nasty bump.
Two notes evolved to another two, then to four more, and suddenly, Azriel found himself sending you noted almost every day, sharing stupid facts and reading about your day.
“Is it because Elain?”
The mood was broken and shattered at the word of the fae, and Azriel finished his knot to turn and look at Cassian.
“Don’t judge me. I’m not Rhys ‘don’t you dare to touch my sis-in-law’ or Mor ‘bad choices are made’” Cassian lifted his arms slightly. “I’m just curious”
“Am I cleaning up nice for my high-lady and friend’s birthday ball? Yes, unlike you, I do care about having a clean presence” he looked down to his jacket. “Your shirt is stained with Nesta’s lipstick”
“Oh, I plan to let her stain more than my shirt” he chuckled.
Azriel rolled his eyes and turned towards the door without saying anything else.
He walked with Cassian through the long hallways until they reached the main hall, talking about training and pointless topics. The usual knot on his stomach loosened a bit when he was with him, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud. He knew Cassian only looked for him in those social events for his sake – because he knew how much Azriel struggled with the attention, with the looks.
For the first minutes, he stood by his side silently as Cassian greeted different people that Azriel didn’t want to talk with. He engaged short conversations with his family, laughed softly at Mor’s attempt of escaping with the wine, and entertained Nyx briefly.
He kept looking at the main doors, waiting for Elain to walk through so he could regain that excitement, that want, that seemed to seep through his fingers lately.
When the first dance started, Rhysand took Feyre’s hand and dragged her through the floor, looking like a regius couple. Mor took a giggling Nyx in her arms and danced in the corner, and Cassian used the opportunity to sneak with Nesta.
Azriel quickly found himself in the middle of dancing couples, and he swore the knot of his tie got tighter. He looked around for Elain, tried to identify her sweet smell or long hair, but he didn’t find her.
“She’s not coming, you know?” Amren’s voice appeared to her right, and he turned to find her leaning against a wall.
“Who’s not coming?”
“Elain” she explained. “She left yesterday with Lucien to get to know his court. Thought you, of all people, should know”
Had he been so out of it that he hadn’t notice it? Had he tried so hard to think about her that he hadn’t talked to her? He tried to think of a conversation where Elain told him that she wouldn’t be assisting, but he realized that he hadn’t talked to her in the last few days.
Actually, he had just sent the bracelet and guessed she would wear it. Part of his excitement wore down at the news, and he regretted agreeing to the ball.
Amren raised a brow at his fallen expression.
“Are you still after her, boy? Knowing she has a mate?” she inquired. “Thought you were smarter than that”
“You don’t understand. None of you do” he said, trying to sound angry. Trying to sound convinced, as convinced as he had been when he met her, but his voice sounded deflected.
“Maybe we don’t, but don’t fool yourself thinking the Cauldron makes mistakes. You’re not above its power”
Azriel scoffed at the answer he had heard before too many times, and faced away from Amren. She could try to convince him all she wanted, but his mind was up. As he walked out of the room, evading dancing couples, he forced the disappointment down his chest, where most of his feelings lay forgotten.
Of course she wouldn’t come. Of course, all those glances meant she was nervous around him, not reciprocated feelings. Of course, someone like Azriel wouldn’t end up with someone like her.
He loosened his tie briefly as he exited the ball, only to stop close to the entrance. He looked back at his family, dancing happily in the main floor. Even Amren, who didn’t dance, talked with a content half-smile to Varian, who had attended in behalf of his court.
Through all his centuries, all he had wanted was to have someone to dance with. To hold while the world fell apart, not to endure it on his own. Azriel felt a rebel knot climb to his throat, making the sight in front of him blurry.
Like a fool, he had thought Elain would be that person. After Mor, he thought he had found his person. Azriel looked once more to the ball before hastily turning around and colliding full force with a person entering the ball.
“Damnit!”
“Careful – “
Azriel didn’t get to stop the body falling to the ground, and he almost fell right above it. He gathered his footing back before he could cause more damage, and looked down to the incomer.
Something in his chest cracked when he saw the color of the dress pooling in the ground, the same one he wore on his loosened tie. The exact same color in the bracelet now forgotten in Elain’s room, that he had chosen so carefully and thoughtfully. He blinked past the initial shock and muttered an apologetic smile, offering his hand.
His eyes traveled up the wrinkled but beautiful dress to an exposed cleavage adorned with a simple blue gem. He didn’t register the similarities with his own siphons when his eyes met yours, both widened at the same time.
Centuries of waiting, of uncertainty, were suddenly nothing when the bond snapped loud in his soul. It rattled his bones and threatened to send him to the ground too.
“Y/N” he whispered, the room around him quietened. It was the first time he said your name out loud, and it felt divine on his lips. “What…?”
“Hm, Feyre’s birthday” you accepted his hand and let him pull you up, and he almost sent you crashing against his chest. “She invited me”
“That’s good”
Your eyes didn’t leave his for a while, as the bond settled for the two of you. Something had called you when you saw that dress, hanging beautifully in the window’s shop. You never wore that color, never attended to those parties. But the premise of seeing the owner of the notes you had been receiving lately, who your friends were tired of hearing about, was too appealing.
Somehow, buying that dress, coming late to the ball because of pointless delays, felt like a trick of fate.
“The bond” Azriel supplied uselessly, and you nodded for moral support way too enthusiastically.
“Yeah. It’s… here” you pressed your free hand against your chest, squeezing the one trapped in Azriel’s warm grip. “I didn’t think it would feel like this”
“It feels right”
Azriel couldn’t explain what had been missing until now. A void that had lived for so long in a place he couldn’t reach that now pulsated loudly where he needed it. He expected to be nervous, to be overjoyed, but above all of that, Azriel felt calm. At peace with himself as he stared into your eyes.
Time didn’t exist and the rest of the world was insignificant, only you mattered. And he could have spent an eternity looking at you if you hadn’t taken the first step and hugged him. If he thought the snapping bond was intense, your body against him robbed his breath.
His hand moved by itself to the back of your head, fingers tangling between your locks and pressing your face closer to him. The other arm rounded your waist, until you both belonged together like one soul.
The song ended and you looked up from his arms. With a small smile, you looked down at the loosened tie.
“Would you like to dance?”
Azriel nodded quickly and turned his back to the exit, your hand in his. People stared, his family looked at him, but all he could see was how blind he had been not to notice you were what was missing.
The Suriel 2
In the busy morning, few people stopped to see what lurked in the shadows of Velaris. They walked and rushed to their meeting points, talked with friends and families in the corners, and enjoyed the sunny day in the square. They all held interesting stories, futures that the Suriel fed on.
But he didn’t look at any of them. Only at the male standing a few feet away from him. He was sure his shadows had noticed him by now, that they knew his scent and presence, but decided not to warn his master. After all, he was no threat, just a mere spectator of fate.
The shadowsinger seemed to doubt between two books from a stand. He was oblivious to the world around him, but the Suriel knew. He noticed how he had changed in just five months, how not only his scent screamed a mating bond but also his soul. The way he stood, walked, talked.
As if the world didn’t own him anything else, as if he was finally the main character of his story.
The tall, dangerous male picked up the thicker book and paid for it with a small smile. He asked the woman in charge of the stand for a blue ribbon and tied the bag with it. Azriel turned around and distanced himself from the Suriel, not noticing his looming presence. But as he got farther and farther away from him, the Suriel was pleasantly surprised to notice shadows gathering at his feet, curious but not aggressive.
He showed them a terrifying smile, all teeth and cruelty – and still, they only brushed the torn parts of his cape in silent gratitude.
Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated
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Azriel taglist:
@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend
Missed target taglist (will be added if I make a second part)
@kayjayjwrites , @phoenix666stuff , @lupinswolfsbanes , @bionic-donut , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @favsrachz , @dwlyniii , @mischiefmanagers , @sassybluebird , @saltedcoffeescotch , @andrewgarfield2022 , @leeknows-wife , @marscardigan , @celear , @sstrohma , @pricklepearbloom , @blackgirlmagicforever , @emiliasdump , @erencvlt , @that-one-little-soybean , @meshellexplosionmurder , @atrxidxs , @feyretopia , @sidthedollface2 , @littlelunatica , @historygeekqueen, @ash-mcj , @haileycannotcometothephonern , @thesunloveschips , @meritxellao , @impossibelle , @kalulakunundrum , @nebarious , @cullenswife , @emryb , @sandramalikstyles-blog
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Captain Save a Hoe - Tsu'tey x Avatar!Reader
i know, i know, the title...
summary: grumpy tsu’tey having to take care of a clumsy avatar!reader, and eventually warming up to her // tsu'tey being a captain-save-a-hoe for 1.7k words straight
wc: 1.7k
a/n: basically, i didn't know where to go with this, so i'm posting it like a blurb bc you guys told me to. there won't be a continuation to this, i just love grumpy tsu'tey, he's so hot
masterlist
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
“Watch your feet,” Tsu’tey throws an angry glance at you, as you stumble through the thick bushes, trying to catch up to him.
Tsu’tey didn’t like dreamwalkers, hell, he almost killed one a few years back, if he hadn’t been stopped. But Tsu’tey especially didn’t like the ones that were awkward and weak in their disguised bodies, asking stupid questions, and constantly getting themselves into trouble. So of course, he was angry when Jake ordered him to keep an eye on you.
“Tsu’tey,” you breathe out, “Please wait for me.”
Despite the strength that your new body possesses, you struggle to keep up with Tsu’tey, feeling like a helpless child in comparison. He walks fast, treating this like another mission that he desperately wants to get over with. Tsu’tey doesn’t really care that Jake welcomed you into the clan for the help you offered. Or that the maps you've made could save the Omaticaya from future attacks by the sky people. What are a few more attacks on him? Tsu’tey relished in destroying the massive flying ships, he could go against them without your help any day.
From the moment you embarked on your journey to the science facility to retrieve some of your equipment, it seemed like Tsu’tey’s luck had run out. As if for some reason Eywa had cursed him, making his journey with you longer and tiresome.
At first, he resented the idea of sharing his direhorse with you, since you hadn’t learned how to ride one yet. He also hated how you would cling to his middle, whenever he sped up, and restricted his movements. If only you had kept quiet, he could have tolerated you more, but instead, you occasionally tried to pry into his past.
“So, why don’t you have a mate?”
“She was killed by one of your demons.”
“Oh.”
Two hours in, Tsu’tey decided to stop by the river to give his horse a short break. As you crouched down by the water, examining the way it bubbled, Tsu’tey observed you in silence. He thought you were strange-looking, but not like Jake. To him, Jake was ugly. You had something intriguing about your appearance. Pretty, although Tsu’tey had a hard time getting used to it. But the compliment he wanted to grant you was immediately pushed to the back of his mind when he heard your frightened scream. You noticed an arachnoid crawling up your thigh and shrieked out of fear, violently shaking your leg to get it off. Spooked by your sudden outburst, the horse loudly neighed and fled through the air. Tsu’tey quickly jumped to his feet, but when he saw the reason for your shrieks, he felt his blood boil. In your defense, you had heard stories of poisonous arachnids of Pandora and you weren’t taking any chances.
So here you are, trudging along behind, with ears pressed flat against your skull. Tsu’tey had scolded you, blaming your weak spirit for the consequences. Since you were too far from the Hometree, and the horse was long gone, you had to continue the rest of the journey on foot. Which meant more hours spent with you.
The silence that follows is almost unbearable, broken only by the sound of your footsteps and the occasional rustling of leaves. What Tsu’tey did not expect was for you to be so slow. He almost gave up on the plan, contemplating going back to the village and fetching another horse. He even entertained the thought of taming a palulukan in case of an attack. In the worst case, he'd end up dead and wouldn’t be forced to care for you for another minute.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
As the day wears on, and the sun starts to set, casting a warm orange glow on the surroundings, you decide to voice your concern.
“Do you think we’ll make it to the facility by night?”
Tsu’tey throws a glance at you over his shoulder, letting out a bitter chuckle. You grimace at his reaction.
“Got it,” you bite your lip.
He comes to a stop, and begins scanning the area around him. You wait for further clarification but he ignores you completely, then starts gathering twigs into a small cone.
“We will camp for the night,” he finally says, gesturing at you, “Gather some more, and stay here. I will be back soon.”
You discover that ‘soon’ meant different things to you and Tsu’tey. While you assumed he would be out hunting, the chilly air made you decide to start the fire and keep an eye on it, so it doesn’t die out. You hadn’t realized how tired you were, the warmth radiating from the small fire was making your eyelids droopy. You tried to resist sleep to prove to Tsu’tey that you were capable, but you couldn't hold out much longer, nestling on the ground.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
Tsu’tey nudges you awake with a gentle touch, and you catch a whiff of a delicious aroma. As you open your eyes, you see him crouching in front of you, holding a piece of meat wrapped in leaves. Your mouth waters at the sight, and you eagerly take it from his hands and devour it. Tsu’tey can't help but chuckle, as he watches the satisfied grin spread across your face.
“Slow down,” he says softly, motioning for you to take a seat next to him, closer to the fire.
You watch him roast a smaller piece of meat and put it in his mouth. Instead of savoring the taste, Tsu’tey chews on it while continuing cutting up more pieces. You feel a little guilty that he prepares food for the both of you but doesn’t take a moment to enjoy it.
“Can I help?” you ask, moving closer to him.
He doesn’t answer, instead pointing to the knife on your belt. When you take it out, Tsu’tey pierces a piece of meat on the sharp tip, and motions for you to hold it over the fire. You follow his orders, watching the meat slowly cook as the aroma hits your nostrils and your stomach grumbles.
This must be the first time he sees you do something right. Tsu’tey nods approvingly as he watches you carefully turn the meat over the fire, your knife skillful in your hands. A comfortable silence hangs over you, as you both start eating.
“We will continue our journey early in the morning,” he breaks the silence, “We must move quickly and return back as fast as we can. ‘Don’t want to camp out in the forest for another night, it can be dangerous.”
You only nod, agreeing with his plan. It was rare for him to keep you informed anyway, so you weren’t going to doubt Tsu’tey.
“You don’t trust that I can help, do you?”
“I am not sure,” he admits, “But if Toruk Makto trusts you, I can give you a chance to prove yourself.”
“Your prejudice against me is ironic,” you scoff, “Jake was just like me once, before becoming Toruk Makto.”
“Not just like you,” Tsu’tey chuckles, shaking his head, “You are too weak.”
“I am smart,” you argue.
Tsu’tey hums in agreement. There is some truth to his words, you have shown weakness. Adapting to a completely new environment, getting used to another culture, suddenly being forced into hours of physical activity that you weren’t committed to. At times, it would get too much but the support of the clan was all the validation you needed to stay.
“I know you don’t believe me, but I’ll do anything to help your people,” you face him with new confidence, he hasn’t seen in you yet.
“You betray your own?” Tsu’tey frowns.
“I have no other choice. They are destroying everything because of greed,” you shake your head in disappointment. He nods.
“And your family? You left them too?”
“I don’t have one,” a bitter chuckle escapes from your lips, “They don’t claim me anymore. And I don’t claim them.”
“So they disowned you?”
“Pretty much,” you shrug, “They think that I am betraying them because I want to protect the life on Pandora.”
“It must take great strength to go against your family,” Tsu’tey compliments you.
You shy away from his softened gaze, warm feeling spreading in your chest from the kind words. It was tough to be one of the engineers who worked for RDA and had to betray them. But you couldn’t stand the idea of contributing to the destruction they were causing. It was why you first found Jake and warned him about the impending danger. And it was then when you first felt welcomed by the clan, cared for.
Now, you needed to sneak back into the facility and retrieve the equipment you left to track the future attacks. Tsu’tey was assigned to accompany you since it was dangerous to go alone. Even though most of the team at the facility shared similar opinions and wouldn't stop you, there was still a risk of encountering RDA guards. Getting caught would mean you could never return.
As the night wears on and the fire grows smaller and smaller, you and Tsu’tey continue to talk. You’re surprised by how he opens up to you, and how he doesn’t protest when you tell him about your past. Eventually, you feel your eyes growing heavy and your head nodding off to the side. Tsu’tey notices and stays up to keep an eye on you, making sure you’re safe while you sleep.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
When you wake up in the morning, you feel slightly restricted around your middle. You huff slightly, trying to move, as you realize that Tsu’tey is sleeping beside you, with his leg thrown over yours, and his arms wrapped around you. The closeness of his body sends a flush of heat to your cheeks, and you feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
“Tsu’tey,” you nudge him, “Wake up.”
It doesn’t take much to rouse him. You guess that, as a warrior, he was trained to be sensitive to sounds around him. Tsu’tey grunts heavily before blinking a few times, adjusting his eyes to the light. When he realizes how close your face is to his, he almost recoils.
"For someone who seems to hate me, you're very protective," you tease him, patting his arms playfully.
“Mhm, couldn’t risk you rolling into the fire in your sleep,” he grumbles, freeing you from his grasp.
#tsu'tey x reader#tsu'tey smut#tsu'tey#avatar twotw#na'vi x reader#tsu'tey x y/n#tsu'tey x you#fics#tsu'tey fic#avatar 2#avatar 2009#avatar#avatar the way of water#avatar 2009 x reader#avatar 1#tsu'tey avatar#jake sully fanfiction#jake sully x reader#neytiri#avatar fanfiction#avatar smut#avatar au#avatar 2009 smut#tsu'tey te rongloa ateyitan#tsu'tey fluff#tsu'tey angst#the way of water#avatar fluff#avatar angst#avatar fanfic
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𝑀𝑦 𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑃𝑒𝑎
Summary ︱Mr. Levinson lives right next door to you, the sweet, innocent college girl. Little do you know that you're Mr. Levinson's favorite neighbor. He's there every chance you need the slightest of help, maybe a little too much.
Pairings︱Mechanic!Ari Levinson x Innocent!Fem!Reader, Robert Pronge x Innocent!Fem!Reader
W.C︱4k
Warnings︱18+ MINORS DNI, Trailer Park AU, it's pretty tame for right now, pet names (Sweet Pea),cursing, reader is scared of Pronge, masturbation (m!) and I think that is all the warnings. Let me know if I missed any!
Author's note︱I am very excited for this series :) This is set around the 90s just because I feel like it fits better with the idea I have going on in my head. It has been awhile since I've written anything so I'm hoping it's not too terrible. I hope you will enjoy this! Feedback is appreciated! Follow my side blog and turn on post notifications :D
“Did you see Mr. Levinson today?” your Mother’s friend, Valerie, asked while wiggling her eyebrows.
“Nope,” you instantly responded. “Have you?”
“Already got my dose of that sexy man.” She smirked while winking at you.
Ari Levinson towered everyone he’s ever met. He stood at a proud 6'6. It was hard to miss the luscious brown locks that fell over his face and the cerulean blue eyes that you could never find your way out of. His beard adorned his jaw and hid the pump rose colored lips he held.
Even when he was doused in motor oil and dirt he was still a beautiful man. He was your neighbor and very well known at the trailer park. Ari was a woman’s walking wet dream come to life.
“He’s already up?” you asked as your eyes bulged out of your head. “It’s like 6 in the morning.”
“Of course he’s up, he’s having his morning coffee.”
You rolled your eyes playfully. “Only you would know that stalker.”
“It’s not stalking Y/N, it's called being an astute observer,” she retorted. “That’s besides the point, shouldn’t you be heading out by now?”
“I should be but…” you started to answer, looking out the window cautiously, “I have a feeling you know who is outside.”
“If you don’t leave now you’ll be late for work which by the way is in 20 minutes,” she reminded you, pointing towards the clock.
“Please don’t remind me.” You internally groaned as you threw your head back and rubbed your eyes.
After a few moments you finally decided to lift yourself from the couch and head your way out. Goosebumps arose on your arms as you opened the front door. You hated this kind of weather, you couldn’t be without a sweater in the morning but by 3pm you’d be sweating like a dog. You shrugged on your brother's jacket, not bothering to zip it up and closed the front door.
Just as you predicted, the person you dreaded seeing most was standing right outside, Mr. Pronge.
Robert Pronge was your neighbor and lived right across from you. Ever since you moved in he formed the bad habit of staring at you and hitting on you like there’s no tomorrow. From what you heard he was a sick sadistic bastard who liked to torture girls with pleasure. He’s had many lovers enter the trailer but seemingly none of them come back.
You didn’t like the way he makes you feel. It felt like a hungry lion stalking its predator, ready to pounce at any moment’s notice. At the same time you couldn’t help but feel hot. Everytime he was near you, your heart raced from the fear and you felt a pulse in between your legs.
“Morning Princess!” Mr. Pronge called out from his front lawn.
“Good morning Mr. Pronge!” You greeted back but only to be polite. You tried to avoid looking too much at him and instead looked towards the ground.
You heard shoes beating against the ground and you prayed with all your heart that it was someone else running. Luck was not on your side that morning. When you looked up it was the one and only Mr. Pronge.
“Where are you going Princess?” he asked. His breath was minty fresh even though his appearance would say otherwise.
“To work,” you bluntly replied, trying to open your car door.
“Aw Princess, don’t be like that,” he cooed. Once you did get your car door open, he immediately slammed it closed, almost smashing your finger in the process. “I’ll give you a ride. Come on, let's go.”
“I appreciate the offer Mr. Pronge but I can take myself,” you insisted while attempting to reopen your car door.
“Princess…” he warningly said.
Mr. Pronge didn’t like it when people told him no. The word no did not exist in his world.
“I said I’ll give you a ride.”
“Leave her alone Robert!” Ari yelled from his porch, causing the both of you to turn around. “She’s probably late for work!”
Mr. Pronge sighed as he stepped back in defeat. “I’ll take you next time Princess.”
You internally groaned at his comment. He could never leave you alone. Every morning he would play this game with you. On the bright side, you were one of the very few people allowed to tell him no and get away with it.
“Thank you Mr. Levinson!” you yelled as you got in the car.
“Anytime!” Ari walked over to Robert after you drove off. Though his eyes never peeled off from you the entire time.
“You’re always in my way,” Robert playfully commented.
Ari chuckled at the jab. Ari always had to save you from him every morning without fail. “Rob, how many times have I told you to leave the poor girl alone?” He asked as he brought his cup of coffee to his lips.
“I will never leave her alone,” he answered with a proud smirk. “Not until I make her mine.”
“Oh please! You’re old!” Ari jabbed at him. “She’s going to want a hot 20 year old guy not some 40 year old.”
“Her father was not present in her life.”
“What does that have to do with anything?!” Ari asked, confused at Robert’s statement.
“The girl has major daddy issues, Ari,” Robert said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “All I gotta do is caress her a bit, say sweet nothings in her ear and bam! She will fall in love with me.”
“Do that and she will call the cops on you.”
“I’d like to see her try,” Robert remarked as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Besides, why do you care?”
“Because her mother is really starting to get concerned and-”
“Oh that's why you’re concerned!” Robert hooted. “You want to fuck the mom!”
“I do not want to have sex with her mom,” Ari declared with a serious tone. “The woman is stressed enough and I feel bad for her and I feel bad for the girl. I see her peek her head out of the door every morning to avoid you.”
“Ari?”
“Yes Rob?”
“Mind your business.”
The following morning was the same dreadful routine. You were trying to stall, not wanting to face Mr. Pronge though you knew he would be there. He always was. Even when you would try to leave at an earlier time. It’s like he would sleep there and wait for you.
Your mother shoved your car keys in your hand. “Sweetie, you need to go now before you’re late.”
“But what if he’s out there?” you asked with a slight hint of fear.
“Is he still bothering you?!” she questioned, her overprotectiveness coming out. “I’ve had enough, I’m going out there.”
“No! No! No!” you instantly said, jolting your hands out to stop her from taking another step. “Please don’t say anything. Mom please!”
Your pleads were granted. She stayed still as she squinted at the window, sending a silent threat to Mr. Pronge.
“Fine,” she said. “But If I hear or even get the feeling, I’m going to rip his nutsack and his stupid smirk off of him.”
“Wow,” you said with your eyes bulging out in shock.
“Sweetie, you’re too nice and a little bit–how can I put this?” she sarcastically questioned herself as she tilted her head to the side. “Oh yeah, you’re naive.”
“I am not naive,” you muttered under your breath, offended.
“Yes you are,” she said as she was walking out of the living room. “Now go to work!”
You grabbed your bag from the couch and swung it over your shoulder. Your hand went on the doorknob, turning it to open the door. You peek your head out to see if you’re one and only was out there waiting for you.
“He’s not there Sweet Pea!” Ari exclaimed. “You’re safe, you can come out!”
“Thanks!” you yelled from the door, fully stepping out. You confidently walked over to your car, happy Mr. Pronge wasn’t outside to terrorize you. Your happiness was soon cut off when you saw a complete flat tire.
“Dang it!” you cursed to yourself. You peered down at your watch, it was 6:41 A.M. You were trying to calculate how much time it would take to go on the bus and you heard the dreadful sound of boots hitting the road.
“Oh no,” you internally whined.
“Got a flat, Princess?” Mr. Pronge sarcastically asked. “I’ll give you a ride.”
Ari quickly stepped in. “Robert no.” You didn’t even hear him walk over to you. You looked at Ari in shock and sent a cry for help at the same time. “Leave her alone.”
“She needs a ride, I’m giving her a ride. What is the problem?” he challenged, taking a step closer to him.
“You’re not taking her.”
Robert straightened his back and puffed his chest out. “And why not?”
“Because I’m taking her. She was just getting something from her car.” Ari grabbed your bag from your hand and placed his hand on your lower back. “Lets go Sweet Pea,” he said as he guided you to his car, opening the door for you and handing you back your bag.
Robert stood in shock. Ari was taking you. And you let him. Though he couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed, he was just wondering how he did it. That lucky bastard.
The inside of his truck was bigger than you ever imagined. It was dirty and there were oil stains everywhere you looked. Wrenches were scattered across the floor along with bolts and lug nuts. The only thing that was almost impeccable was the air freshener hanging off the rearview mirror but there were five oil stained fingerprints on it.
“Thank you for the ride Mr. Levinson, you didn’t have to take me. I could've taken the bus.”
“Don’t even mention it Sweet Pea,” Ari said. “Plus I don’t think you wanted to ride with Rob now did you?”
“No,” you answered as you shook your head. “He scares me.”
“He scares you?” Ari repeated, barely shocked.
“Mhm,” you confirmed with a small hum. “He’s really big and mean. Everyone says he’s the nicest to me and if that’s true I don’t want to see him when he’s mad.”
“It’s true, he’s the nicest to you.” Ari found it weird when Robert wouldn’t constantly yell at you like he did with other people but he can see why. You’re the sweetest thing ever.
“Is that all?”
“Mr. Pronge used to bring women and–and they would come out screaming and crying. It frightened me.”
Robert used to bring women over all the time. They wouldn’t last for too long. They would run out of the house screaming all kinds of profanities after 3 weeks. You’ll never forget the moment a woman came to your house and asked if you had anything sharp. You gave her one of the knives from the kitchen. 5 minutes later the word asshole was embedded on the side of his car in big, bold letters.
You’ll also never forget the time another woman came to your trailer. She screamed while she banged on the door like a madman. When you opened the door she had red hand prints on her body and a barely carved ‘R’ on her exposed hip. She asked you to hide her because he was coming. Sure enough a minute later Mr. Pronge came, demanding you to show him where she was hiding. Luckily your brother was there to kick him out.
He could see why you were scared. Hell even that scared him a couple of times. For some reason Ari didn’t like the thought of you being scared. Hell, he could barely deal with the fact how uncomfortable Mr. Pronge made you.
When you approached the building Ari parked the car and exited out, lightly jogging over to your side and opening your door for you. He held out his hand to you to help you out of the truck, your hand delicately gripped his and he could feel the rush of dopamine releasing in his body.
“Thank you again Mr. Levinson!” you beamed with a bright smile. You raised yourself on your tippy toes and slightly bounced to place a thank you kiss on his cheek.
An unexplainable warmth rushed through him. The action was short and sweet but it made him feel weak in the knees. He would get cheek kisses from women quite a lot but it never felt like this.
“Anytime Sweet Pea.” He felt himself staring at your eyes for a little bit too long. He forced himself to look anywhere else for a brief second, making sure you didn’t grow uncomfortable. “What time do you want me to pick you up?”
“Oh it’s okay Mr. Levinson, I can take the bus or have my brother pick me up.”
“Are you sure?” he asked you again.
You nodded your head. “Thank you again! You’re a lifesaver.”
“Don’t even mention it,” he waves off.
You muttered a small goodbye to Mr. Levinson before taking off into the diner. He watched you go in with a small smile on his face.
Even though this was your first real interaction, he knew he wasn’t going to get enough of you. You were the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. The whole way back he thought of you. You were like a deadly plague in his mind. A beautiful, rose scented, warm plague.
Luckily your brother was able to pick you up after he got off of work. The next bus was going to come within another hour. When your brother picked you up, he was agitated.
“What happened to your tire?” your older brother asked, not amused at all.
“I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I went outside this morning and it had a flat.”
“I helped Mr. Levinson changed the tire, it had 4 nails,” he said in a matter of fact one. “4.” he repeated as he held four fingers in the air.
“I’m sorry,” you weakly apologized.
“You need to pay more attention where you’re driving.”
“I didn’t mean to drive over the nails. There weren’t even any when I drove yesterday!” you protested. “I only drove to the library which is 2 minutes away.”
“So they magically appeared?” he sarcastically asked. “Just pay attention please.”
“I will.”
“You left your bus pass on the table this morning. How did you get to work? ” he questioned you. “Mr. Pronge didn’t take you, did he?” He turned to glance at you with a worried look.
“No, Mr. Levinson did,” you told your brother.
“Did you make it on time?” He quickly glanced at you again, “because you are horrible at giving directions.”
“Hey!” you barked at him. “I am not horrible at giving directions.”
“Yes you are.”
“Well lucky for me I didn’t even have to tell him, he already knew where to go,” you responded, “sure did save me the hassle.”
“Did you thank him?”
“Of course I did, I’m not rude,” you responded, half hurt he would think that of you.
The rest of the ride was short but your brother took the remaining 4 minute drive to lecture you once again to pay attention. You tried to zone him out but he would snap at you, telling you to listen. You knew he did it to annoy you, it was simply too easy to annoy you.
When you arrived at home, you jumped out of the car to look at the tire. Sure you had no idea what you were even looking at but it never hurt. You bent down to look at it and you noticed one thing. It wasn’t patched up like before. It was brand new.
“Are you coming in?” your brother asked you.
You turned to look at him. “Yeah, I just have to do something really quick.”
“Don’t take too long, I’ll be done cooking in 10 minutes.”
“I promise,” you told him before he went inside.
You took out a sticky note, a pen and 50 dollars that took you 4 days to earn. You used the hood of your car as a desk and wrote a sweet but short thank you on the sticky note. Afterwards you walked over to his house and placed it under the surprisingly alive flower pot he had on his front porch.
The both of you didn’t see each other for almost 2 days. You got overwhelmed with work that you barely were in the house. It wasn’t until Ari caught you late at the laundromat.
“Sweet Pea?”
You turned around at the sound of your name. “Oh hi Mr. Levinson,” you greeted him with a huge smile.
“What are you doing here so late?” he asked you though he could barely pay any attention to you at the moment. You wore a thin pastel pink cardigan with a pearly white nightgown that had a bow at the valley of your breasts.
“I forgot to do my laundry this morning and I didn’t have time so I came here after work,” you told him.
“Isn’t it a little late to be working?” he questioned you.
“I’ve been picking up other shifts at work,” you said, “it doesn’t help having the extra money.”
“Speaking of money,” he began to say as he took out the fifty you gave him from his front pocket of his flannel, “you left this on my porch.”
“Yeah it’s for you,” you innocently said, “I noticed the tire is brand new and I’m 90% sure my brother forgot to pay you.”
“It’s your money, I’m not taking it. Here.” He passed the money back to you but you refused.
“Keep it, you changed my tire and I’m paying you for your service.”
“I really can’t—”
“Please,” you begged him with puppy eyes.
You pulled at his heartstrings. It agonized him, he didn’t want to take your money but he also didn’t want to make you sad. But he kept it anyway and stuffed it back into the front pocket of his flannel.
“What are you doing here so late?” you asked him as you bent down and took out your now dry clothes.
His eyes peered down for a quick second and he saw the nightgown riding up, revealing your baby blue panties. His throat went dry and he fought hard to keep his gaze up but it found itself looking back down.
“I–I realized I forgot to wash my work clothes.”
“I hate when that happens.” You came back up after you pulled out the last piece of clothing. “Then I’m stuck getting yelled at by the manager when I come in with the wrong clothes.”
Ari chuckled to avoid an awkward silence. Really it was to refrain himself from stuttering or making a fool out of himself. In his head he wanted to compliment you and how pretty your nightgown was but the words wouldn’t leave the tip of his tongue.
He took a deep breath before he spoke. “You look pretty in your nightgown,” he quickly muttered out.
Your eyes lit up at his compliment. “Thank you Mr. Levinson. It’s pretty but I don’t think I’ll keep it.”
“Why’s that?”
“It always rides up and by morning it’s all the way up here,” you pointed to your upper stomach.
Oh what he would give to be a fly in the room in the morning. He quickly changed the conversation, it was obvious you were too oblivious to what you were doing to him. Your sweet voice and innocence were driving him insane but he loved it, he secretly wanted more.
The both of you left the laundromat 40 minutes later. He insisted on carrying your basket for you. You both walked side by side. You were busy trying to keep up with him while he was busy looking down at your breasts.
“Thank you for carrying my basket Mr. Levinson,” you thanked him as you took your basket from him when you got to your front porch.
“Anytime Sweet Pea.”
You kissed his cheek once again to seal your thank you. “Sweet dreams Mr. Levinson.”
“Sweet dreams honey,” he repeated to you.
Ari was in a rush to get back to his trailer but a dear beloved friend was waiting for him.
“Well would you look at that?” Robert sarcastically asked him. “She gave you a kiss on the cheek.”
“Not now Robert,” Ari pleaded, dying to get back into his place.
“What’s the big rush to get back home?” Robert crossed his arms as he smirked, “I see you’re sporting a hard on. Surely it can’t be because of her. Right?”
“Oh shut your trap.”
“It is, isn't it?!” he gawked.
“No it’s not!” Ari protested.
“Oh really?” Robert Challenged as he squinted his eyes.
“I was about to get lucky with Kim before she came into the laundromat and interrupted us,” Ari quickly lied.
“So you waited for her to be done then walked her back?” Robert questioned Ari.
“Of course I did,” he scoffed, “otherwise she would’ve ran into you. Not to mention she’s terrified of you, fuckin’ creep.”
“Whatever. She wants me, I know it,” Robert boasted.
“Yeah in jail.”
Robert rolled his eyes and walked back to his trailer while Ari walked back into his. He immediately locked the door behind him and dropped the basket on the floor.
“Oh thank god,” Ari hissed as he unzipped his painfully tight pants.
His cock was rock hard and had been for the past 20 minutes. The pants barely gave him any friction and if anything, made it worse. He palmed himself through his boxers and moaned in relief.
All he can think about is you in the short nightgown and how he’s never been this hard before. Sure he’s been turned on but it was nothing compared to this. It was like he was a horny spazzy teenager all over again.
He freed his cock from his boxers and sharply inhaled at the impact of the cold air. The tip of his cock was bright red and oozing with precum. He used his thumb to spread his precum and use it as lube.
His eyes screwed shut in bliss when he began pumping up and down. He tried to think of the porn he watched three days ago but instead you kept popping up. He imagined you being here with him, helping him out.
“Does that hurt?” you ask him as you point to his angry, leaking cock.
“It does Sweet Pea,” he rasped out.
“Was it because of me?” you innocently ask him as you bat your lashes.
“Yes,” he admits.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you apologize to him. “Let me help you,” you tell him as you take his cock into your tiny, warm hand.
“Oh Sweet Pea,” he moans out.
“You’re s-so bi-big,” you sputter out, slowly pumping him up and down. “Does that feel better?”
He doesn’t have the strength to talk so instead he nods eagerly. “G-Go a little bit faster.”
You obey him and start pumping faster. His moans fill the room as he gets lost in the pleasure you’re giving him. Your hand is cramping but you don’t care, anything to make him feel good.
“Sweet Pea, I-I’m about to cum,” he warns you.
You get down on your knees while you still pump him. “Let it all go,” you seductively say as you open your mouth.
Ari was brought back to reality when his high overtook him and he orgasmed. It was so intense his thighs started to shake. He continued pumping and pumping until he got too sensitive he had to stop.
He stood there with his cum dripping down his hand and secretly wishing you were there to help clean it all up. The realization had hit him hard, he needed you.
#ari levinson imagine#ari levinson#ari levinson angst#ari levinson fanfic#ari levinson fanfiction#ari levinson fic#ari levinson fluff#ari levinson x fem!reader#ari levinson x female reader#ari levinson x reader#ari levinson x y/n#ari levinson x you#ari levinson x innocent!reader#ari levinson one shot#ari levinson au#chris evans x female reader#chris evans x reader#chris evans#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans characters#chris evans angst#chris evans blurb#chris evans character#chris evans drabble#chris evans fan fic#chris evans fan fiction#chris evans fandom#ari levinson smut
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Hi, are you still looking for Baldur's Gate 3 requests? Could you please write something about the main BG3 Companions (+ our boi Halsin) with a Tav/reader who's really short and adorable and just an absolute sweetheart but is horrifyingly powerful in their lore? Like NPCs who know about them back away in fear kinda thing. Maybe Tav can even transform into some sort of battle form where they're like 9 feet tall (as opposed to their usual height of like 4' 10") and can absolutely kick ass on the battlefield?
Thanks so much, I hope you have a wonderful day! Take care!
bg3 companions with a adorably powerful tav
Navigation | More Weirdos | AO3
synopsis: Who could imagine such a sweet thing as you had the reputation of a hero?
warnings: companions (lae'zel, shadowheart, astarion, gale dekarios, wyll ravengard, karlach, halsin, jaheira) x tav. fluff.
note: thank you for your request! oh gods how i missed writing headcanons. i hope you like this, have a wonderful day!
Lae'zel
Lae'zel knew your shared condition had a cure, and was willing to put herself in danger by taking the entire party with her to the nearest crèche. That being said, how couldn't she judge you?
You were too easy on everyone. Making promises you clearly shouldn't, taking them seriously despite her best efforts to put some sense in your head. The party was supposed to only stop walking when surrounded by githyankis, but no burdened tiefling or hurt animal escaped your careful gaze.
That you knew how to fight surprised her, but to see fear and admiration in the eyes of civillians... that made Lae'zel pay more attention to you. You had a reputation. Not as a writer, bard or patron. You're know for striking down your enemies.
Fighting at the goblin's camp, there were so many oponents even Lae'zel didn't knew if it would be her last fight. You saw it too, so you made sure to use everything you had to win. Even if you would rather not turn into an eldritch creature.
She got enchanted by your battle form. Steel and iron where nothing against the pure strenght of your skin. Whatever crossed your path that day suffered at your hands.
That was the first time Lae'zel got happy for being wrong about someone.
"Perhaps I've judged you too hard. You are fierce, foracious, as sharp as my sword and as brave as a red dragon. Keep on surprising me and a istik you'll be no more."
Shadowheart
Shadowheart couldn't care less about the tieflings and their problems, but it was endearing to watch you wandering throught the Coast in an attempt to ensure their safety. It was a sight she couldn't expect to observe in this journey, not when considering the worm twitching behind her eye and the artifact messing with their dreams.
Still, you could shut down her biggest fears with ease. While she tried to remain quiet, you were full of kind words to share with whoever was near. You care for all beings, great and small, and Shadowheart can respect that. A person without a truth to follow is empty, but one with a mission turns into so much more than just a walking corpse.
She focused on protecting you during fights. Always giving you some sort of magic shield, casting sanctuary, begging you to drink potions and elixirs that would keep you safe.
Goblins attacked, and for a second everyone was too surprised to react properly. Except by you. You were quick to defend your party, to fight for them, and won a fight no one was preparad to.
Shadowheart decided not to underestimate you again. Kind words, gentle actions, caring gaze: she was so focused on her own view about you that forgot to pay attention to the way everyone else saw you.
You're powerful. The kinda of powerful that their party had to be grateful that you were fighting besides them.
When you revealed your beast form to her, Shadowheart already knew you were a sight to behold.
"You are full of surprises, aren't you? Good. I like how you keep me on my toes, love."
Astarion
In theory, he should've been delighted with your personality. You were the perfect prey. A leader so sweet, he could change your mind at his will and you wouldn't even noticed. Others respect you. Astarion would be safe and sound.
But Astarion isn't capable of forgetting how easily you fought back when he tried to fool you. How he didn't even saw you moving, and was alone on the floor before he could understand what had hit him.
Instead of a person, you were a walking question mark. How can you be so sickenly adorable, and still so ready to strike down your enemies? Were did the sweet half of you finished and the other one started?
People know you. He saw respect in druid's eyes, fear when goblins heard your name. Halsin knew about you. And so did Minthara.
Few are able to live up to their reputation, but you're one of those. So strong, so brave, but your kindness wasn't ignored by him. It was as if in your head the whole world deserved your kindness, until it did no more. Only then you react.
Astarion don't know what to think about it.
When you attacked as a beast, tearing spiders apart as if they were a piece of meat in your plate, Astarion laughed until his belly ache.
How could be so right and so wrong about someone?
"Don't mind me, darling. I'm just rejoicing at the sight of your bloody hands. Come here. Let me taste your heroic mess."
Gale Dekarios
Gale learned two things about you when you pulled him out of stone: you were kind, and so damn strong.
You were adorable. A perfect equation between what people must do in order to survive and what they must do in order to live well. He can't see you not being surrounded by friends and admirers, all enchanted by your sweet words and rightful attacks.
He feared the party's reaction to the Orb, but a part of him knew you would let him stay. He never imagined you would give him magic artifacts without a second question, or that you would hug him after he told you his whole story.
You didn't let him go. Neither did Gale.
To say he was willing to agree with whatever you did was to say his heart beats. It was only natural. Maybe you both differ on the path you want to take, but the destination is usually the same.
When he saw you feral, body changing to give space to something else, Gale wondered if he was one of those enchanted people surrounding you. If he wasn't fighting for his life, Gale would gadly gaze upon you for the rest of the day.
"Disgusted? I was unable to look away from you! You are the one I love, no claws or tentacles will ever change that. Must I add, my love, your light remains strong in whatever form you decide to use."
Wyll Ravengard
To say the least, he's a fan. Oh, how lovely are the tales of your adventures through Faêrun. He remember arguing with bards about the accuracy of their versions and the reason behind their choice of words. You were what a hero must aim to.
How long were the nights he spend wandering after he was casted out of Baldur's Gate. Lonely nights, but never silent. Wyll's mind fought against itself. He lost everything to help and protect others. Sometimes he worried if he had lost himself too.
Your tales weren't his salvation. None of them shut down those voices that insisted on telling him about the mistakes he made, neither did them shut Mizora. But they inspired him. If you did all those things, remained human even as a beast, he could survive a talkative cambion. Wyll Ravengard can defeat her by staying loyal to himself.
Wyll didn't had to hear your name to know you were fighting next to him, defending the grove against goblins and worgs. He saw enough drawings of you to recognize you from miles afar. When you asked him to be a member of your party, Wyll felt as if a million fireworks exploded inside his chest at the same time.
He did felt anger and pain because of the tadpole, but never fear. Fighting beside you, Wyll knew he didn't had to fear for his future. And after seeing how willing you were to argue with multiple cambions, he started to have hope.
"I used to read about legends, myths of bravery and rightousness. Some see it as just tales for the naive. Thank you, my heart. For proving them wrong time after time."
Karlach
She's the only one with an excuse for not knowing who you are. When strangers call you by your entire name, when companions use your epithet: Karlach just never thought about it. She ignored it, paying no mind to others.
But Karlach did knew you were a absolute sweetheart. What you didn't had of height you compensate with a gigantic personality. For her, the way you behaved was simply alluring.
While many prefer to think the world is a bad place and no one living there can chose to be or do better, you are just another reason for her to know that it's bullshit. Because Karlach is good, despise it all. And Wyll. And you.
And Minsc!!!
You had a fire on you whenever you had to fight. She didn't need to know your story to see how great you can be. Some people just have that. She don't know if that fire is born or forged, but some people just have it.
To see you as a beast made her the most happy woman in Faêrun. She got speechless, all she could do was laugh and run around to have a better view of you ending the Steel Watch.
"You got 'em, soldier! Go on, bite his arm off! You see that monster over there? The one with glowing eyes. That's the love of my fucking life."
Halsin
He saw you before. Druids and harpist fought against sharrans, and you were one of the heroes who joined their cause. At that time Halsin didn't talked to you, but he knew you fought until the very end and stayed to help with the infirm.
When you rescued him, Halsin knew you remembered him too. There was some understanding between you both, a companionship that only those who foght together can share.
He knew you were a hero, one of those who fight wars that don't affect them because someone needs too, but your personality was a good surprise. Halsin haven't imagined you so easy going. Always offering smiles, light jokes, being clumsy without a care when danger was far away.
After the battle against sharrans, he thought those who refered to you as a monster were trying to make others understand how eficient you were. It surprised him to see they were just being honest.
Nothing would stop Halsin from turning into a bear and joining you.
"In this damned city, you are a beacon of hope. The Oak Father graced us with your light. From your fiece strikes to your honey soaked words... I am lucky to live at the same time as you, my love."
Jaheira
As a fellow adventurer, it surprised Jaheira that you weren't already tired. You both lived for so long, did so much, it would be only natural for you to give a pause on your endless smiles and envied patience. She was wrong, but that wasn't a bad thing.
Jaheira knew how this life can steal things from you. Peace feels like a threat, to stop make you feel like a prey, to laugh makes you wonder if it will be the last time. Is impossible to be a hero without losing. She's glad you didn't lose yourself in your path.
There was an unspoken pact between you both. The stories, the songs, the faux memories. So many think to know everything about you two. Sometimes Jaheira will read you a book you're in when she knows it's a shameless lie, and you sing her songs about adventures she did not lived.
Your laugh could make her feel younger. Alive. You both were so differents, but knew each other in a way few could.
Whenever you chose to strike as a monster, she would join you as a myrmidon and had her fun. You both deserve it.
"I did well not underestimating you, cub. It is impossible not to laugh at those who can't see how your bright smile hides sharp fangs. As pretty as a diamond, and as fierce too."
if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡
BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies
@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.
#madwomansapologist#ask box#bg3#baldur's gate 3#shadowheart x tav#shadowheart x reader#shadowheart#lae'zel x tav#lae'zel x reader#lae'zel#astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#karlach#karlach x reader#karlach x tav#halsin x reader#halsin x tav#halsin#gale x reader#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#gale dekarios x reader#gale dekarios x tav#gale x tav#wyll ravengard#wyll ravengard x reader#wyll ravengard x tav#jaheira x tav#jaheira
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euphoria ? suna rintarō.
sum. labeled, but sfw. arguments, suna cries, angst -> comfort.
rintarō isn't one to let his anger dominate him; rather, he tries his best to keep his emotions at bay. however, there's only so much someone can take before exploding. high octaves of a once calm voice bounces off the walls, it takes both by shock. rintarō stops, his eyes bulging when he realizes what happened.
fuck, he thinks. he didn't mean to. swallowing the burning sensation of guilt, he steps forward. countless apologies flow from his lips, clammy hands trying to reach you in attempts of a hug. you're still shocked. numb to your feet, your mind replays the scene. it hurts. it really hurts. you didn't mean for it to turn out like this.
from a simple worry to nagging to spitting out meaningless words of anger. it never meant to escalate like that; nothing was supposed to turn the way it did. hurt, anger, jealousy, and sadness. he knew your words came from concern, but he was already irritated—annoyed in a way that he just wanted to be locked in a quiet room. both parties letting their words go before logic; nothing was meant to turn this way.
“i think...i think i'll go upstairs. please don't come.” y/n mumbled, pain evident in her voice. as your figure ascends into the upper floor, rintarō slouches back into the couch. a heavy sigh fills the room; regret and guilt seeps into his pores, eating him alive.
i'm a fucking ass, he thinks again.
rintarō laughs. he drags his palms over his face, stopping at his eyes before he laughs again. it's funny, really. did he really have to lash out like that? rintarō promised he'll never hurt you. he'd never ever hurt you, but can that promise still hold meaning even after this? physically, he didn't. mentally and internally? the tremble of your voice said more than enough.
the more his mind repeats what happened like a broken record, the more tears well up in his eyes. they threaten him. they laugh at him. the salty liquid mocks him—it's almost as if it's saying, “ha! you're an idiot!”
he swallows hard, trying so hard not to let his voice be heard. he doesn't want to cry but fuck, it hurts so much. when the dam swells until it bursts, floods occur. and so he let it go. the tears race down the sides of his face. he covers his mouth with one hand, biting hard in attempts not to make a sound.
it's been a few hours. each in their own space, trying to soften the pain that invited itself. no one tried speaking to another—the fight lingers fresh in both minds. rintarō's on the edge; he's itching to be in your presence. to hold you. to kiss you.
five minutes turn into ten, which turned into twenty, and he's still there. still behind the door that separates him from you, hesitating to turn the knob. his hand shakes—he's nervous..? anxious? afraid you'd ask him to leave you alone? hell, he doesn't know.
rintarō didn't know he was in his head until the door opened on your side. he gapes at you, eyes searching for something.
“rin—” you start but he continued, “i'm sorry.”
he notes the confusion riddled on your face but he continues on.
“i'm sorry, love.” he says, hands holding yours as he looks down biting his lips. he's ashamed to face you.
“rintarō,” you tighten your grip on his hand, “let's sit down.” you instruct and he obeys, chewing on his bottom lip as a distraction.
rintarō's eyes linger on you. he observes your face, your behaviour, your tired eyes that show clear evidence of countless hours of crying. his heart hurts. he never thought he'd be the reason you're crying tears of sadness. never did he ever want to make you cry like that.
“you've been crying.”
“yeah, you too huh? i'm sorry, rin.”
at your apology he freezes. you're sorry? why are you apologizing? he's the one who lost control so why the fuck are you apologizing?
rintarō laughs again. he's been acting like a real fool hasn't he? having a wife who apologises for her husband's inconsiderate actions.
“don't. don't do that. don't apologise.”
“but—”
“please,” he begged. pushing you both down onto the bed, rintarō holds you above him. one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while the other rubs your shoulder, he continues his speech, “i didn't mean to—i didn't mean to yell like that. i don't know what i'd do if you left.”
you play with the hem of his shirt waiting for him to finish.
he let out a ragged breath before continuing, “i don't like it when you're hurt. this is gonna sound corny but i hate it when you cry too.”
you wait again but he doesn't continue like before. confused you look up at him only to furrow your eyebrows while your eyes wash over with concern. is he trying to not cry? you think.
yeah, he's crying again. small droplets trickle down his face once more as he sucks in his cheeks trying to not make a sound.
“rin.” he doesn't answer.
“suna rin.” he hums quietly but it's not the answer you want.
“suna rintarō.” there, he answers.
your heart shreds. hearing his voice like this was as rare as a red moon; you hate it. you hate how he never allows himself to cry. he's human isn't he? so why's he acting as though he's a machine.
you sit up on his lower half, cupping his face forcing him to look at you.
“we both did our wrongs so why are you behaving like you committed a first degree crime?” you ask though you aren't looking for an answer.
he stays quiet. eyes lost deep in yours as he waits for your words again.
“yes it did hurt, but that doesn't mean i'll throw away your love doesn't it? i know better than to divorce you for this argument, rin. we've been together for years.”
your fingers start to caress his cheek—some even tracing his face's outline. rintarō's hands find refuge on your waist, he holds and plays with your skin.
“i love you, rin. i'll tell you over and over until you know it.”
“i know.”
“then act like you know, boy.”
he laughs for the fifth time today, but it's no longer a laugh of disbelief, no. it's a laugh of joy. it's a breathy laugh that makes his eyes crinkle.
he sits up, pulling you into a hug as he lowers his head into the junction of your neck and shoulders. a smile finally dawns both faces.
after long hours anger says goodbye as love enters the house. what a day, you both think.
#+ rizsu: haikyuu.#haikyuu x reader#suna x reader#suna rintarou x reader#haikyuu angst#suna rintaro angst#haikyuu fluff
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Okay but, flirty reader majority pointed at Reid, and the scene where he has to get hosed down and says "I'mma bout to get naked, I don't think you wanna see that" and reader's just like raising her hand and says "don't worry I'll stay". And after she walks out to go to the hospital and sees everyone and with an open mouth and wide eyes just goes " woah" cause big dick energy
A/N: Hi, thank you so much for your request! I've been a bit sick lately, so I haven't had a chance to write much, but this was fun and quick to write! I might do a part 2 with the actual smut in the future, so if that's something people would want let me know in the comments!!
Warnings: suggestive content, public dirty talk?
“I really want to see that.”
You heard the words but weren't sure where they'd come from for the longest time. It had been a confusing morning, with a high alert for anthrax and your coworker trapping himself inside a contaminated lab to save you from dying a presumably very painful death, you couldn't be blamed for not realizing that you'd said the words in question.
He'd meant the words sarcastically, of course, and they'd warned Morgan off immediately with a chuckle and a “You better survive this, kid,” but you'd stood rooted to the earth until he'd repeated them again.
“Y/N, they're going to strip me down. You don't want to see that.”
“I really do, though.” Your eyes unabashedly trailed down the contours of his body, soaked from the hoses currently decontaminating him. You could've sworn that he was moving in slow motion as his hand pushed back his hair and cleared his face of water.
If there weren't this many CDC agents around, you'd have likely joined him in his impromptu shower to feel your way along the lines of his clothing, checking to see what was outline and what was the thick layers of shirt and pants that unfortunately still obstructed your view.
Another minute of you ogling him went by before your eyes finally returned to anywhere near his, and you realized that your desire for the man could no longer pass for camaraderie.
“You better not die, Spencer. Not before I can enjoy the meal I'm about to sample.”
His doctors were either ignoring the conversation completely or were busy focusing on other things, and luckily, they didn't react to your words. Other than to take Spencer's temperature one more time when he flushed bright red, and stared at you slack-jawed.
“We're going to have to speed this along, Doctor Reid. Please start unbuttoning your shirt,” one of the hazmatted men said to him, but his eyes were fixed on you.
“Yes, please do, Spencer. It's for your own good. And mine.”
You expected him to blush and fawn again, but his day had been as long and confusing as your own, so you were unsurprised when he looked you directly in the eye and began unbuttoning his shirt. You watched his descent, and your breath faltered, seeing the water drip down his bare skin now.
“I'm not sure which of us is wetter right now,” you tried to joke in earnest, but you felt a sharp jolt of lust in your gut as soon as his hands reached his belt.
“Y/N, you need to leave now. Before you make this any harder for everyone here.” The innuendo in his words were clear, but you were thankful again for the considerate and/or oblivious doctors either side of him bagging up his discarded shirt and jacket.
“Only if you promise I can make your life as hard as I want to when you're in the clear.” You smiled again, hoping the full force of your lust would reach him. Spencer was always oblivious to genuine flirtation, you'd observed enough women throwing themselves on him (had discouraged a few too many with a hand on his arm and a finger playing with the abandoned curls at the back of his neck, too) to know that for sure.
You needed to make your need for him explicit.
“I mean it, Spencer. I really mean it.”
His eyes locked with yours for the last time ad you made to turn around, doing your best to convince him without becoming distractedly horny.
“I know. I'll see you at the hospital.”
“At the hospital? Risky, I like it.” You winked and turned away, leaving him calling back after you as you walked over to the car Derek had pulled around the front of the property.
“Wait, not the hospital! Those beds aren’t comfortable. Y/N! Y/N, really!”
You giggled as you sat down in the car, but you bubbled with anticipation still.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#mgg#spencer reid smut#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid criminal minds#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x y/n
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Rainy Season - Part 4
All You Ever
Azriel reflects on his past mistake including the night with Elain. Cassian makes a huge mistake.
A/N: Before reading this chapter please know that I am not condoning cheating or the actions of Azriel or Elain. I do not feel sorry for either of them in any way. I simply enjoy adding a little complexity to the story and selfishly love sprinkling in chaos. Also this is not proofread, I’m exhausted.
And for cauldron’s sake, please just trust the process before yelling at me!!! This is just one chapter from the two biggest idiots involved, not the whole story.
Part 3 Part 5
Warnings: Not proofread, Alcohol, Language, Unintentional ingestion of an aphrodisiac leading to sex
Azriel
He may have been a fucking idiot but Azriel’s self-awareness was painfully acute. His scar riddled hands were forever tainted with the essence of blood that even her plush lips couldn’t kiss away, his angel mate. What a cruel joke the cauldron had played the day that bond snapped between them. She was resplendent in sun shrouded glory and he was the devil who dragged her down. Just selfish enough to ignore the warning bells that he’d one day fuck it all up, just selfish enough to pull her away from her home and covet her within the walls of Velaris. In the beginning, he’d fought so hard to deserve her though she’d never asked him to. She wanted only him and knew he was unworthy of her, he always had been. It was exhausting - the mask. Constantly trying to hide from her that dark, sadistic side of him that was everything opposite of what she was.
She saw through it, of course. She always had. All she wanted was him, all of him. Begging him to show her beyond the good of him at surface level, she wanted all of his self-proclaimed bad too. She’d told him that dozens of times over the years but dropping that mask meant unpacking so much - so much more ugly than even he was prepared to reveal to himself.
At some point he began to resent her and he knew it wasn’t fair. He resented his perfect, pure, untainted mate. Wasn’t it ironic that she’d shown him everything beneath her own surface numerous times, unveiled that she herself was not the Angel he placed her on a pedestal as. She’d shown him everything and he still viewed her through that near-holy lense.
If only he could have put his stubbornness, his self-loathing aside and realized she would have done the same for him. It was too late for that now.
And now I'm without you, and it took distance to see that losing you, means losing everything
————
Something had been wrong for a while. He ignored it assuming that perhaps it was a mental blockade erected by a combination of fatigue and work tensions. He’d slowly distanced himself from his mate. He knew it hurt her, it hurt him too. His intentions were genuine, sparing her the pain of his own inner turmoil by distancing himself while he worked through it. He was simultaneously aware that he was a fucking bastard for doing so, she deserved an explanation but he couldn’t give it to her yet. He justified it as the lesser of two evils.
Unsurprisingly, the mating bond is a fickle thing. As he distanced himself, a chasm of emptiness opened within him that he’d desperately tried to fill with missions and various courtly duties. Training with the Valkyries helped, being there for Elain through her own struggles….
He took his duty to help her seriously, though it technically was not a duty even assigned to him. A distraction. It was a distraction. Ever the spymaster he spent their initial time together observing her, the things that brought a little bit of life back to those once bright eyes.
He’d sun his wings while she gardened and read across from her in the study, little things so she’d know she wasn’t alone. Eventually she began talking again. At first just a comment here or there but then there was communication, getting to know each other, small talk eventually becoming deeper topics. He learned of her resentment of the choice she felt was ripped from her, left with no time to mourn the loss of her mortal life or consider the implications on her relationship with Graysen because of it.
Not to mention the shock that one of the faces she blamed for being damned to the cauldron, one of the first faces she saw coming out of it was her mate and she was just supposed to accept it? Over time, Elain became a friend. A bright spot to the numbness created by the self-imposed gap between he and his mate. His mate….
It had taken some time to realize that he wasn’t feeling her through the bond, when was the last time he’d felt her? It was becoming fainter and fainter, more faint than it even should be with distance. He’d send feelings to her on occasion. A little spark of joy when he saw a lovely sunset or the moments when his desire for his mate heated his blood so thoroughly he had no choice but to excuse himself for relief by his hand.
He needed her to know he cared, he desired her, he loved her. A little time and space to collect everything he needed to bring to the surface, to give her all of him. He left her feeling like she wasn’t enough but she was everything. He just needed space.
Until she gave him space.
The devastation on her face the day she asked him to leave. Gods, damn him and the hurtful things he’d said. They’d be ingrained in his mind for the rest of his days along with the sound of her sobs as she fell apart before him. He’d done that to his mate. He was responsible for those tears. All because he’d been too selfish and prideful to share all of himself with her.
So, he left. She’d allowed him so much space, he could give her this.
I wish I could love you and make you believe it. It’s all you ever wanted from me
———-
The night with Elain
He couldn’t make it through dinner sober. Rhys insisted everyone get together at the River House for a friendly night of debauchery. Pouring himself a double shot of whiskey, he considered telling Cassian to send Rhys his regards and hole up in the house of wind for the remainder of the night. It was either, go to dinner and deal with all of the questions of “Where is y/n?” and “Why isn’t y/n here?” or deal with Cassian’s well-intentioned but annoying attempts of pressuring him into going, followed by a pout when he’d stand his ground on staying in, and then the inevitable intrusion from Rhys inquiring why he wouldn’t come to dinner.
He loved his chosen family dearly but they were busybodies through and through. All he wanted was to pass the time until he saw his mate tomorrow.
Begrudgingly he threw back his glass, poured another double, then headed to the River House.
Time moved slowly when all there was to do was dwell.
What had happened? He flew slowly to the River House. Going out of his way to circle far overhead of his true home, where his mate was. Was she waiting for him inside? Was she in town? Why couldn’t he feel her? Silence. Just as it had been for months. But the emotions he’d seen in her, they were so real. Shouldn’t they have sparked something in the bond?
As Azriel approached the River House he’d come to the conclusion that tonight he’d inform Elain he’d no longer be able to visit with her as he had been. He’d neglected his mate for far too long, this past week had given him the clarity needed to go home and give his mate his all. He could slowly open up to her, he could do it.
He just needed to make it through the night.
The night went by as usual. Good food, laughter, flowing liquor. He heavily indulged himself in the liquor anything to numb the impatience in waiting for tomorrow.
Feyre and Rhys sat closely together on a lounge, Feyre leaning into him, staring up at him like the stars in the sky.
Cassian and Nesta spent the entire time making bedroom eyes at one another, Cassian whispering dirty promises into Nesta’s ear that made even the queen of smut herself blush, Nesta taking any opportunity to brush her body against his in passing.
Gods, they were so in love it made him sick.
“Home.” He told himself.
“Soon.”
As the evening wound down, Cassian insisted everyone do shots to close out the evening. He was drunk enough that he stumbled carrying in the tray of shots and let out a battle cry of victory over the fact that he managed to not spill any of the liquor.
Azriel should have flown back to the House of Wind a while ago but he needed to talk to Elain.
Nuala and Cerridwen had been on duty with Nyx for the evening, compensated well to work overnight in case he awoke, giving Rhys and Feyre the now rare opportunity to go out to Rita’s. Mor, of course, drug Emerie along and went with them. Given that Amren would rather stick pins in her eyes than go out, she and Varian opted to go back to her place.
Azriel should have gone there, gone back to the River House, gone home and slept in the doorway until his mate let him in.
But he was so drunk. There was no way he was flying anywhere tonight.
Cassian and Nesta brought out a final round of shots. Elain winced, scrunching her nose as she threw it back. Azriel thought she’d be able to take her liquor better by now. Cassian and Nesta waggled their eyebrows suggestively at eachother before throwing theirs back. And damn, if Azriel didn’t wince when he took his shot too. That shit was awful. Had they drank through all of Rhysand’s good liquor? Did Cassian dig this out from the bottom shelf?
Once Cassian and Nesta left for the House of Wind, Azriel took the empty glasses to the kitchen, cleaning up a few of the remaining dishes throughout the seating area on the way. He barely made it into the kitchen before his head began spinning. That last shot had done him in. He couldn’t even remember the time last he’d been blackout drunk. Two centuries ago, maybe?
He still needed to find Elain.
The stairs felt longer and far less steady than usual, taking him more time than he cared to admit to make it up them. His hands felt tingly on the banister and damn, it was hot in the River House. No, he touched his face, flushed and hot to the touch. He was hot.
The tingling was simultaneously uncomfortable and pleasurable, spreading over his body with haste as he neared closer to Elain’s room.
He caught a glimpse of her and her scent hit him like a ton of bricks. Had she always smelled this good?
His breathing increased, nostrils flaring as he took in her scent and fuck - he was hard. It was too late to not say anything now as she stared at him expectantly. The stars in his vision cleared and all he could see was her, zeroed in on her fluttering pulse, those delicate features.
He needed to leave.
He just needed to - shit, what had he come here to say?
Azriel’s shadows whirled reminding him of his mate. His mate. He needed to go to his mate.
He needed to tell Elain something. He couldn’t think straight.
“Elain…”
And that was when she lunged at him.
Well is it too late, and are you too far to turn around and let me be
——————————
Elain
There was nothing the Cauldron loved more than Elain Archeron.
There was nothing the Cauldron hated more than Elain Archeron.
A thin line between the two, really.
She’d spend the rest of her life groveling for what conspired on that night. She never intended to sleep with him. She never, ever intended to hurt Y/N.
She remembered drinking more than usual.
She remembered Azriel finding her in the hallway.
She remembered a sudden rush of warmth, first from her chest, seeping outward through her extremities, low into her stomach and lower, lower.
She remembered Azriel having something important to tell her. She could feel nothing but heat. Her heart racing, breath becoming rapid.
Azriel’s pupils were blown wide, his nostrils flaring. Like every single sense was hyper aware of her state. His arousal wafted through the air, his irresistible cedar and chilled mist scent clinging to her like an expensive cologne.
They were so very intoxicated.
They couldn’t do this. If she’d been sober and unaffected by whatever was running through her veins, she would have left. Immediately.
She wasn’t one to wreck a home and Azriel loved his mate so, so much. The way he talked about her, it made Elain jealous. Not of them, not of her. Only jealous that Elain herself had struggled so hard to feel anything toward her own mate for so long. Lucien who played a role in her loss of humanity, Lucien who would do anything to make it up to her, Lucien who never meant for it to happen, who tried so hard to help her, to connect with her, who wanted nothing more than to love her. Lucien.
Then why was it Azriel? Azriel who was standing in front of her clearly affected by her, trying his damndest not to be. Why was she so drawn to him? A mated male.
Was she sweating? It was so hot. Her breasts ached and her blood thrummed through her veins so voraciously that she was certain she’d bleed out at any minute. And if Azriel could see beneath her gown right now, he’d see how tightly her thighs were squeezed together. How desperately she needed release and by the tightness in his pants - she knew he was in the same state.
“Elain…” Azriel spoke. His breath ragged.
And all it took was her name rolling off of his lips for her to close the distance. One kiss. She just needed one kiss to remind herself that this was wrong. To run the other way.
And it only took one kiss to remind her how much the cauldron loved her. How much it hated her.
The moment when she felt the mating bond snap between her and Azriel.
The alcohol, the liquor, the heat, the bond. A lethal combination leading to the biggest mistake of her life.
The night she’d fucked Azriel.
She could never let him know about the bond.
—————————-
Elain woke up with a brutal headache. She would have killed for some headache power. Her room was dark, shadows deepening the onyx black of night as slivers of moonlight lined the edges of her curtains. Still nighttime, then.
Her surroundings slowly came into focus, awareness sharpening as a soft sound caught her attention. Swiftly she turned her head to find Azriel asleep on the other side of her bed.
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no, no, no.
This couldn’t have happened.
What had she done?
She threw on her dress and tip-toed out of the room in a state of panic. She was a sensible female. She knew too well the pain of losing Graysen, a human male, not her spouse, not her mate. But still, his rejection had hurt like hell. Elain would never sleep with another woman- female’s mate. No.
She paced through the library, back and forth, back and forth, praying she didn’t wake anyone up. The walls were closing in on her. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be.
Oh gods.
And the mating bond. How?
Her chest was tight, she couldn’t catch a full breath. She needed out.
Before she could stop herself, Elain fled into the empty street with no destination in mind. Anywhere but here, anywhere but the bed where she’d likely obliterated a marriage. She’d certainly obliterated her dignity.
The starlight illuminated streets of Velaris were endless, winding through alleys and lanes. In her panicked state, Elain had no clue where her feet were taking her as she blindly followed her gut. It wasn’t until she was in front of the door that she realized her heart had made its choice. It knew exactly who to go to, she only prayed it wasn’t too late.
She took a shaky inhale and raised a hand to knock but the door flew open revealing a shirtless Lucien, his bare, muscled chest heaving. “I felt you coming.” He gasped. “Through the bond.”
—————-
Azriel
The sun’s rays illuminated the edge of the curtains. Azriel’s stomach was tight, nausea from the previous night’s alcohol overwhelming him. His bed felt colder than usual, more stiff.
He looked around to find that he’d never left the River House. He was…
He was in Elain’s room.
“Oh, fuck!” He sobbed to himself as the previous night came pouring back to him. Setting his face in his palms, he cried. What the fuck had he done?
Azriel bathed, desperately scrubbing Elain off of him. By the time he was through, his skin was an angry red. He snuck out of the River House, flying to a grassy knoll high above Velaris. The spot where he and Y/N had first made love, where the bond snapped, where he’d proposed. He shifted uncomfortably as he tried to get comfortable, the unease settling in. It was blasphemy to desecrate such a sacred spot with his shame.
“What do I do now?” He asked aloud, the only response the whipping of the wind around him. He didn’t understand what had overcome him. He’d never been so “effected” before, even in his drunkest moments. Once Elain’s lips met his, his brain had shut down, nothing else mattered but the feel of skin on skin. His body needed release and acted on pure primal instinct.
And now, he had a decision to make. He could go home and lay it all out, slightly easing the guilt of holding in his greatest sin while completely and utterly destroying his mate.
Or, he could go home. Show his mate all of the love that he had been withholding for too long now, sweep her off her feet, take care of her and start opening up. Give her his all, even the ugly parts that he kept so deeply hidden.
Gods, she’d given him so many chances and he’d let her down at every turn. There were no excuses for the way he had treated her.
All she’d ever wanted was him, all of him, including those sides he’d never wanted her to see.
Now he could only go home and love her. Love her with everything he had and pray she believed it.
———————-
6 months after Y/N left
Azriel looked in a hallway mirror on his way to Rhysand’s study. Dark circles hallowed out his under eyes. The drink he’d had prior to flying down here did nothing to numb the violent ache within his heart. Would it ever quell? Would this puncture wound ever heal?
It wouldn’t. And he didn’t know if he wanted it to. He was a bastard and deserved every ounce of this isolated misery. Trapped in a prison of his own making. The ache in his chest a constant reminder of the love he’d squandered. And for what? A meaningless night with a pretty female. Had he not had enough of those nights in his life?
Not that Elain would speak to him. Though she had apologized, countless times. It didn’t matter. As far as he was concerned, he was the only one to blame. Occasionally he’d catch Lucien’s assessing glare, an infuriating blend of contempt and pity etched into his features. Azriel didn’t know which he hated more, he didn’t deserve pity.
Azriel’s skin had sallowed. Had he ever been this pale before? And the bargain tattoo on his arm. Fuck, he hated it. After his third attempt to infiltrate the Summer Court, Rhysand gave Azriel the option of a cell in the Hewn City or a bargain.
Ironically the bargain served as a prison of its own. He was not allowed to go anywhere near the Summer Court or communicate with Y/N in any way. The only method of communication he was able to find a loophole with was the tugs on the bond. He’d pull and pull, nothing.
If only he could try to explain, apologize, anything.
Breaking his gaze from the shell of a male in the mirror, Azriel stepped toward the study.
Cassian’s booming laugh barreled through the cracked open door.
“Trust me, Feyre will love it. I’m sure you guys could use a little spark at the end of the day. You’ll be rolling in the sheets all night.”
Rhys only chuckled.
Cassian continued, “Tastes nasty as hell though. Here’s an extra vial, just in case. The first time Nes and I tried it, it didn’t work. Not sure why.”
Azriel let out a huff, stepping into the study. Cassian and Rhys ceasing their conversation in his presence. They’d been painstakingly obvious in not talking about their mates or anything relationship related in front of him since his mate had left. He refused to speak to anyone about why she left, too embarrassed to admit to this bed of his own making. They knew it was his fault and that was all that mattered.
Azriel scowled. “You don’t have to stop talking about your mates just because I’m around.”
Cassian awkwardly raised his arm, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry brother. We just don’t want to make things harder for you than they have been.”
“Considerate.” Azriel sneered, jerking his head toward the vials. “What are those anyway?”
Cassian smirked, “Oh, just some aphrodisiac potions from a new apothecary in Velaris. Really powerful shit. Nes and I-“ Rhys elbowed Cassian. A warning to not take the conversation too far. They could talk of their happy relationships without absolutely rubbing Azriel’s face in it.
Cassian quieted for a moment before continuing. “It tastes gods awful but the payoff is totally worth it. Remember those shots we took after everyone left dinner several months ago? We mixed it into Nes and I’s glasses and didn’t notice the taste. Didn’t work either though. Must’ve been a dud. Lady at the shop gave us a replacement vial the next time we were in and…. well, let’s just say we keep it in stock at the House of Wind now.”
Azriel went preternaturally still. His shadows growing angry as he ground out, “The night you two did a parting shot with me and Elain?”
“Uh…… yeah?” Cassian replied.
And before Cassian could realize what he’d done, Azriel pummeled him. Hauling him out the study doors and onto the lawn, not even making it to the sparring ring before his fists met Cassian’s face - the two Illyrians disappearing into a frenzy of fists and feet and glowing siphons.
The only sound over the impact of their hits and feral growls was Cassian’s confused, booming voice. “What the FUCK, Az!?”
————————————————
A/N: I am sorry for giving you an entire chapter of Azriel and Elain content but I will make it up to you with fluffy Eris and reader content in the next chapter!!!
@going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26 @sidthedollface2 @i-am-infinite @caraaaaugh @evergreenlark @darkbloodsly @piceous21 @anxious-study @chessebookgirl @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @crazylokonugget @mysticalfuncollectorus @starsinyourseyes @b0xerdancer-writes @inloveallthetime
#sarah j maas#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#azriel#a court of silver flames#a court of frost and starlight#a court of mist and fury#a court of wings and ruin#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#eventual Eris x reader#Elain#Cassian#Nesta#nessian#acotar x hunter hayes#inspired by a Hunter hayes song#all you ever#rainy season
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the funniest thing about the batfamily is that they're so smart but they all have zero introspection skills.
the batfamily is smart. so smart. and they deal with the mentally ill population all the time. and most of the time they treat them good! they help them!
i find it absolutely impossible that bruce isn't educated on psychology. there's no way he isn't. no way he hasn't studied psychology, whether it was to understand the joker or any other villains, whether it was to learn how to instill fear, practice for going undercover, hostage negotiation, how to tell the difference between mental health issues and just violent criminals (because he wouldn't know which ones he could talk sense into without understanding why they were doing it), whether it was to learn better methods of interrogation, or even just an interest in how the brain works.
and i guarantee most of the other batkids are too. bruce had to have taught them that so they could learn how to go undercover or how to tell whenever violence is necessary or if you can just talk them down.
dick has a law degree, which means he had to do undergrad. i think it's insane to think that he wouldn't have taken a psychology class. he also was able to understand damian and how to handle him, and he wouldn't be able to do that if he wasn't aware of how his upbringing would've shaped his neural pathways.
tim has a genius level iq. no way he doesn't understand how the brain works. also, he was able to tell that bruce was in a terrible mental state just by observing him as batman, where bruce does everything in his power to hide his emotions. he's also, several times, shown to be one of the only if the not the only batfamily member to understand why jason acts the way he does.
damian likely isn't terribly empathetic to mental health issues. probably a little more now, but not very. but like. he might not be empathetic to it but there's no way he doesn't understand how it works. how the frontal lobe works. how the amygdala works. how to manipulate someone.
stephanie was in college, and just like i said with dick, i find it hard to believe she wouldn't have taken a psychology class.
cass is cass. enough said.
also!! they all have a pretty good relationship with leslia thompkins!! a psychologist!!
all this to say: how on God's green earth do none of them realize they need therapy.
and like i get why. bruce has suppressed his emotions so much that he genuinely think he's fine. dick is too focused on being a support for everyone to worry about himself. jason and stephanie push it all down. cass, and this is not a diss because i love her, would realistically be very emotionally stunted. damian wasn't raised to be empathetic to the mentally ill and even if he was, he's 15. his frontal lobe is so not developed. plus the trauma they've all endured? the training they've had from bruce, who probably wasn't that concerned about teaching them self care and most definitely taught them to put their emotions aside. so like i get it. but also.
they know all this stuff and??? don't for a single second (except for tim that one time) be like "hmmm i could benefit from CBT and EMDR"
except duke.
how is duke the only one who's like "yeah. you guys aren't okay." duke knows. he tries to reason with them and has several times been like "you guys are crazy. why are you chill with this."
which is all to say. i'm convinced that at some point duke is going to try to sit them all down and be like "you guys need therapy. please go to therapy. I'm begging you."
#i know that the whole “duke is the voice of reason” is kinda more fanon than anything bc he has to be crazy too to be a vigilante#but im convinced he's self aware of it#and is like wow#you guys are#so traumatized#batfamily#batfam#dick grayson#nightwing#damian wayne#robin#jason todd#red hood#tim drake#red robin
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TULIP WITH THE GUY EVER
this is for peter!! im feral for this man my god
this is long for nothing happening- guys i am SO fucking rusty
prompt: an act of affection so blatant everyone notices roommate!peter <;3 flower prompts
It’s hard not to look at her.
There’s so much to observe, so much to place his attention on- how she smiles, the way she taps the sides of her mugs before she sips her tea. She’s a vision in red lipstick and he’s the kind of person that’s blessed to be in her presence.
It’s a Friday night, and there’s a sweet sort way that she curls into herself. She’s been his friend for just about a minute longer than he’s been in love with her, and he’d like to think he does a decent job at hiding this fact.
He landed on his hip today, from a height far enough off the ground that it still hurts, pain radiating from every step as he walks home. The commute is actually quite far from his internship at the newspaper, but he likes the area he lives, and the woman whose company he keeps while he lives there. He makes concessions.
Still, he’d been looking forward to the sight of her since the ache began. Her presence had a way of soothing.
She’s curled up onto an inherited recliner in their shared apartment, and when he bursts their creaky door open in a fluid motion, he’s greeted with this sight. She’s not alone- some friends from her graduate program on their Ikea couch.
It’s girls night, and it’s his dutiful role to say a quick quip and head back to his room. Her two best friends are over, legs splayed over each other in an open display of affection that he adores witnessing. He could hear the laughter and yelling from outside the apartment itself. He likes how they make her laugh, how they seem to make her heart lighter when he can tell she’s not able to carry the weight of everything by herself.
“Peter!” She’s the first to even notice he’s around, and he tries not to let the stubborn firework in his chest keep exploding at the thought of it. At the thought, she sees me. Her voice is warm and kind and weightless, and he drinks in the sight of her. Their floor lamp illuminates her in warm golden light, a coupe glass with red wine held in delicate fingers.
“Hey, you,” he replies, an unmistakable warmth he can’t seem to rid himself of in his tone. He tries not to seem disappointed, like he’d not been imagining watching an irrelevant TV show, a little too close together until they’d fallen asleep just that way.
As he’s hanging his withered coat, he asks, “What are you guys up to tonight?”
Her friend explains that they are watching the Spy Kids trilogy in order, and she nods dutifully along.
“That sounds wonderful,” he can’t help but laugh. “I’ll leave you guys be-“
And it’s no surprise, when they send a him a chorus of please join, and you’re welcome to be here!
She stands up to give him a hug goodnight (because she wants to kill him), and he envelops her before he can stop himself. She smells like a mixture of lavender and rose and sweet red wine, and he’s grateful for his heightened senses for a moment; it doesn’t take long to memorize it all.
It occurs to him that he won’t see her until morning, and he takes in the sight of her again, eyes raking over her. She really is beautiful- lovely in a way that radiates her smile, follows her in action. His hands rest on the curve of her waist, and something and things being made to fit one another cross his mind, against his better judgement. God, he could spend forever looking at her, longer touching her.
He only pulls away when he hears a muffled pair of laughs, failed attempts at not interrupting a moment. Which is absurd, because there is no moment. None.
She beams at him despite the laughter of those she holds dear, and it aches saying goodbye to her. She's just down the hall and it hurts to leave.
He slinks off to his bedroom smelling like her perfume, blushing bright red and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest bit hopeful. And he thinks he might of heard the faint whisper of two other people, whispering questions he mulls over every day.
"Just roommates, huh?"
#the amazing spider man#andrew garfield#andrew garfield spiderman#spiderman#spiderman x reader#peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker oneshot#peter parker blurb#peter parker imagine#peter parker fluff#tasm#tasm peter parker x reader#andrew g
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