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an-angel-in-the-garden · 3 years

Note

Hello! I saw that requests were open and I was wondering if I could request the demon brothers from Obey Me! (separately) with a mermaid s/o? The brothers are unaware that their s/o is a mermaid since they hid themself amongst humans and pretended to be one. But since they’re in the Devildom and they miss the ocean, they’ll take really long baths in the bathroom while in their mermaid form whenever they can. Maybe the brothers find out they’re a mermaid when they accidentally see their s/o in their mermaid form? Gender-neutral please! And sorry if this is kinda a long request. I love your work and I hope you have a lovely day! Thank you! ❤️

Aww, I'm glad you like my work thank you for requesting it! And don't worry I love long requests it really helps me when it comes to writing! I will also say this is technically against my rules as I only write for 6 at a time but I will make an exception only for the Obey Me brothers just please keep that in mind. - Lilly

Set up

It's been a rough week the heat in the Deilvdom Is already above average but this past week has been the worst it's almost unbearable and I want nothing more then to get home so I can soak myself for a while. I've been doing that most days anyway but now it's more out of need than a want. Another hot day and another need for a long bath only this time I would get to relax for even longer! 'Everyone should still be at RAD for the meeting" With how hot it was Diavolo said it would be okay for me to head back so I didn't risk passing out so I would have at least an extra hour before anyone got home! Fully submerged in cool water my Iridescent tail just slightly hanging out I let myself unwind from the week. "Other than the heat things have been good I've kept my grades high and tomorrow we'll be going on a date" My lips pull into a smile as I muse not noticing the sound of knocking or the worried voice of my partner calling out to me it seems only natural this would happen one day but opening my eyes to the shocked face of my lover wasn't how I planned it.

Lucifer

Though fully shocked by the news that you're apparently a kind of merfolk he is also in stunned awe

It might take him a few moments but once he recomposes himself he'll jump straight to questioning you on things

He's not mad not even really a little angry that you kept this from him he just wants to know why and how you hid it....did Diavolo know?!

After you answer his questions he just stands there in amazement as a human he thought you the most beautiful being and now you're also like a shining star

You also have no idea how much pride this man has when he finds out you wanted to tell him and only him for a while now

He does get a little shy about a desire he now has but he still tells you about it (it's wanting to see and swim with you in the ocean)

" My my and here I thought you couldn't surprise me anymore then you already have you truly are my most special one huh?

Mammon

So flustered I mean what was he supposed to do you're in the tub and oh...oh you're a merfolk

He doesn't fully know how to process this information but man he knows he's happy and a little upset

Ask tons of questions and most of them are about why and how you hid this from him

Once that's out of the way Mammon is so excited you've been his number one since before you even started dating but knowing this secret about you and being the only one to know even if it was an accident makes him so happy

You get a new nickname then and there and it's His Sea Jewel though he still calls you his human to cause duh

He plans to take you to the ocean whenever he can just so you be fully yourself and enjoy not being in such a small tub( he might even bribe Asmo so you can use his tub too)

"I always knew you were a treasure but babe this is something else ya know"

Leviathan

:o that's him when he sees your tail, You're a sea dweller like him!!!!

Not even really gonna wonder why you didn't tell him he just gonna make sure you haven't told anyone else

Guess what your new couple's activity is! It's swimming in his aquarium room him in his demon form and you in your merfolk from

Is now a hype man for you talking up how cool it is that you are really a merperson and how it's just like the anime my best friend turned out to be a mermaid!

Will not even think about telling his brothers this is his secret with you now no one else should know unless you want to tell them..

Please let him help clean your tail and fins he will do everything you (⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

Satan

He walks out right away and it won't dawn on him at first that you're a merfolk until he's out of the room

Does tons of research on mermaids and merpeople in general

He's hyper-focused on it for a bit and honesty prefers if you want to tell the others because he can brag that you're all his

Teasing calls you catfish and lovingly calls you jellyfish don't ask why

Is really scared now of bringing you with him to play with cats or showing you the cats he brings in thanks to slightly fearing they may try to eat you

enjoys sitting in the tub with you while you stay in your full form even if you like the water cold if it means holding you like this he won't mind

" What a wonderful surprise my dear jellyfish if you ever want to go see the ocean just let me know it will be our vacation plans"

Asmodeus

At first, he was just happy to see enjoying your time and then he saw the tail

He so excited his partner the second most beautiful person in all the Devildom and the most beautiful human is actually a beautiful merfolk

Will not question it at all he understand why you might want to hide it and that Diavolo probably already knew so he's not worried

Asmo already called you many sweet nicknames but his new favorite is Angle fish

Now that he knows he becomes far more committed to helping you out with a beauty routine after all merpeople can't risk their fins and scales drying or being hurt

If you're okay with it he'll want to post about you in your true form mostly bragging about how amazing you are

" I didn't think you could be any more gorgeous yet here you are angle fish glimmering like a clear night star"

Beelzebub

His first thing after seeing you like this is to be worried you're in the heat so often are you ok?

Beel isn't really fazed by the fact you've been hiding this he's just happy you don't mind him knowing

Won't say a word to anyone unless you want him to but will ask if he can at least tell Belphie

He will go to the beach with you whenever you want and starts to take you with him to work out his gym has a huge swimming pool you can use

Really wants to know about food you like now did you enjoy fish or other types of seafood if so raw or cooked he'll plan a dinner for you

Beel will still call you cupcake but sometimes when he wants to tease you he calls you sushi and if anyone calls you that in a mocking way he will fight

" I've always like carrying you around but now I have even more reasons to"

Belphegor

Doesn't ever notice you have a tail he just wanted to know why you were in the bath for so long

Is both in awe and also doesn't care thanks to you he became ok with humans again and even though he knows you're not really one you clearly choose to live like you are

Is fine with keeping it a secret but will also be real smug if you tell people cause now people think your even cooler but your all his

He can sleep anywhere and thought he wont be in the tub with you he will hold your hand and rub your tail while he sits on the ground and naps

Doesn't like going to the beach much but if you really wanna go hell come with you just to see having fun

Will whole heartedly defend you and fight for you if someone finds out and picks on you or if any of his brothers bother you

" Who would've guessed that you would be such a magical person and to not just that but that even being who you are you still choose me"

Okay I hope that this was to your liking and thank you for reading! And a huge thank you to my best friend @bird-brained-plague-doctor for helping me with some of the ideas used!!!!

#x reader #reader imagine #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader

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perriewinklenerdie · 3 years

Text

Affection (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 1,5 k

Summary: OH3 Chapter 14 rewrite. Ethan supports Claire on the day of her Boards exam like a good boyfriend.

Warnings: None

A/N: I don’t know who the imposter in the book is. I don’t know this man. I also haven’t played the chapter yet, so that’s saying a lot. One could say this is what Ethan Ramsey could have been in book 3, but PB is playin.

„Call me as soon as the exam is over.” He muttered while pulling her closer. His lips found her hairline, pressing against it time and time again in short pecks.

“You’ve got it, boss.” She teased, earning herself a pinch to the side. He let her lean away an inch, just enough to let them see each other again.

“Keep that work up and you’re going to be my boss before we know it.” Ethan gave her a smirk, his eyes filling up with pride. It warmed her up from the inside, his belief in her so overwhelming, she almost started crying.

“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” It was Claire’s turn to smirk, slipping her hands beneath his sweater to feel his skin. A shiver ran through him, betraying his obvious interest in her, in any and every way.

“I’m serious, though.” He tightened his hold, his gaze intensifying. “I’ll be waiting by the phone.”

“Maybe I should torture you by not calling you, then.”

“… Noted.” He nodded his head, shame crossing his face. She smiled softly, a quiet sigh escaping her. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. Though, I can’t lie, I appreciate you being the better half of me and not making the same mistakes your idiot boyfriend did.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, babe.” Claire laughed, standing on the tips of her toes to brush her nose against his. He moved his arms to surround her shoulders, his lips pressing against her cheek tenderly.

They remained entwined for a long time, gently swaying once in a while. He knew that he’d have to let her go sometime, but he was nowhere near ready to do so. He always missed her the moment she left his side. She wasn’t leaving forever – just a couple of hours until he’d see her again at the party. Claire didn’t even have to ask if he’d be there. He hated parties, but he wouldn’t dream of missing this one.

At last, his hold loosened, allowing her to step out of his embrace. Their eyes met again. Ethan nodded, certainty flooding to his face.

“Give them hell in there.”

His eyes searched the room for her – they always did. It took a while, but he finally found her, dancing with Sienna and Aurora. Her laughter was engraved into his mind so much that he heard it above the music – which was terrible, by the way – and overshadowed everything else. He decided to let her celebrate with her friends before joining them.

“The prodigy boyfriend returns.” He heard Tobias’s voice from behind him. Upon turning around, he felt his hand on his shoulder, slapping it slightly. Ethan hesitated when he heard what Tobias had said, his forehead creasing.

“What did she tell you?”

“She didn’t tell me anything, I just heard her leaving you a voicemail and I connected the dots.” He explained, easing Ethan’s mind a bit. But only a bit. He could see it in Tobias’s eyes, the judgement of his poor actions. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re getting your shit together.”

“Why do I feel like you wanted to say something else?” He tried to fight the grin, but ultimately lost, both men now laughing. Tobias raised his hands in surrender.

“She’s your girlfriend, I’m not saying anything. It’s just good to see you two back together.” He punched Ethan’s shoulder slightly. “Since you’re insufferable without her, and all.”

“How dare you.” Ethan laughed a bit louder, shaking his head. His eyes found Claire again, noticing her now standing off to the side by the table, talking to her friends. He excused himself from Tobias and walked over to her.

She stood with her back turned to him, allowing him to sneak up on her and wrap his arms around her. His lips brushed her cheek.

“How big of a bottle of champagne am I to buy for our celebration?” he muttered against her skin, laughing at the excited sound she made when she realized it was him.

She twirled in his embrace and threw her arms over his shoulders. Ethan kissed her cheek, then pulled her closer, hiding his face in her neck and pressing his lips to her skin again.

“The biggest one there is.” She giggled, brushing his hair back. He straightened his back, stroking her cheek with his thumb. His eyes caught hers, staring into them, silent for a moment.

“I missed you.” he mused, his voice low. Claire smiled softly, closing her eyes and focusing solely on the feeling of him by her side. When she looked at him again, she found an adoring smile lighting up his face.

“I’m here now. What are you going to do about it?”

“For now, I’m going to compliment your clothes. You’re putting everyone to shame, me included.” His hands moved to the small of her back, spreading his fingers to hug her tighter.

“High praise, coming from someone looking the way you do.” she winked, her nails scratching his neck. Ethan shook his head, then brushed his lips against her hairline.

“Ramsey, feel free to take her dancing. She’s been restless after the test, seems to me like she needs to blow some steam off.” Jackie noted, pulling the couple’s attention to the people gathered around the table. Aurora and Sienna nodded in confirmation, while Rafael grinned.

“Dancing or any other form of blowing off steam. Just, please, without details.”

“Or with details, that’s up to you.” Bryce joined in, nudging Ethan with his elbow. Claire blushed, hiding her face in her hands.

“Someone take that drink away from Lahela, he’s had more than enough already.” Ethan smirked, then looped his arm around Claire’s waist. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

They made their way to the dancefloor, choosing the very far end of it to gain some privacy. They wrapped their arms around each other, her forehead resting against his chin as they began to sway to the music.

“This is nice.” She commented, closing her eyes to immerse herself in that moment with him. Ethan hummed, changing the angle of his head slightly to press his lips to her skin.

“I agree. I don’t even mind all the commotion of the party.”

“That’s odd. What happened?” she joked, pinching his arm playfully.

“You’re here. I need nothing else.”

“Uh huh.” Claire grinned, leaning back to look at him. She saw hesitation in every move he made towards her. Every brush of his fingers, every look he sent her way, every embrace he engulfed her in – it all felt uncertain. And they both knew why.

Since their conversation in the Opera, he hasn’t kissed her on the lips. Anywhere else was fair game, his favorites being cheeks and forehead – he’s always been affectionate with her, but now, it’s all she’s been experiencing. She’s seen him eyeing her lips, like he used to do back when he still tried to stay away from her, but he hasn’t acted on his desires since that night.

He seemed afraid of pushing her too far. Aware of his errors, he, more than anything else, didn’t want to commit them again.

“Ethan, what’s going on?” she decided to ask, placing her hands on both sides of his face to make their eyes meet. He hesitated, then breathed out heavily.

“I don’t want to take you for granted. I did once, and I almost lost you.”

“You’re not taking me for granted by kissing me.” she argued, leaning up a fraction. Ethan continued, staring into her eyes.

“You’re too important to me, Claire. It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you. I could kiss you every moment of every day for the rest of my life and I’d never need or want anything else, believe me.”

“Then do it.”

“Do what?” he asked, confused. She grinned at his adorableness, then climbed onto the tips of her toes, pulling him down towards her by his neck at the same time.

“Kiss me, Ethan. We’re not going to break.” Her words were barely heard above the music, but just enough to send his brain into overdrive.

He pressed his lips to hers, slowly at first, carefully. Once he realized that she wasn’t leaving, wasn’t disappearing from his side, his embrace tightened, and he kissed her harder. The intensity made him feverish, the sensation stealing his breath. Claire gripped the lapel of his jacket tightly, pulling him to her enthusiastically.

They came up for air, greedily stealing oxygen from their surroundings. Ethan didn’t let her step away even for an inch, both of them still as close together as they were seconds ago. Claire traced the features of his face with her fingers in wonder.

“Yeah, we’re definitely not going to break.”

Notes

I tell myself I don’t have time to write because exams are coming up, and then I proceed to attempt to clean up the mess PB is making out of OH. Oh, to be a hoe with at least some self control.

This fic takes place after my last one - hence the mention of the Opera conversation. I want this man to show growth, not for him to retreat to his starting position like PB is making him do. That ain’t funny and it sure as hell isn’t entertaining.

Thank you for reading! <3

Tagging separately

#open heart #ethan ramsey #playchoices #ethan x mc

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yanderedbdimagines · 3 years

Note

How about a NSFW scenario where a yandere Plague keeps a male reader to satisfy her craving for physical affection. (I love your writing! Thank you for your time)

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Thank you! I’m glad that you like my work so far! :D And no problem at all! Thank you for taking your time to post a request instead.

I did make it that the male reader’s her s/o here or else it’d pretty much go in against one of my own rules. In other words, he’s willing. It isn’t as NSFW as you probably would have liked, though... But the hints are there.

-------------------------------

WARNING: NSFW-ish below!

The Plague

Adiris is the oldest among the Entity’s many pawns and she’s done a great deal of things for the spider-like god ever since she was taken by the black mists.

With untattered loyalty and devotion throughout many, many years, she managed to gain an unbreakable bond with it. She receives favors other killers could only dream of and her items and offerings are often of good quality at the very least.

But she eventually met you. Throughout her lifetime, she has seen lots of survivors and killers come and go. Through them, she’s seen how time, culture, language and scientific advancements moved on…

How these… worlds outside of this realm leaves everything here in the dust. How it leaves her in the dust…

You are a survivor from a modern era. A man who seemingly acquired his thrills through exciting trips and adventures in foreign countries whenever you had the time and money for it.

You intrigued her. Intrigued her enough to force her to jump through loops for you in order to capture your attention. And after some trial and error, all in the lapse of a few months, she somehow succeeded.

The soft moans you drag from her mouth are obscene and it only motivates you to continue as you delicately run your fingers over the patches of skin which are least affected by the terrible disease.

You feel the muscles pulsate from underneath your touch as you caress a sensitive spot at the very base of her upper leg, a small smirk already tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Touch starved,” you muse, the smirk only widening ever so slightly in size as her good eye glances at you from underneath her lashes. She still can’t fully understand you yet, but that’s what makes it all the more adorable as puzzlement breaks through the euphoria that’s currently portraying on her entire face.

One of the Entity’s pawns… Reduced to mush from underneath your fingertips…

There’s a false sense of power in that. Even if it’s short-lived during these very rare moments. It’s the exact same feeling which ended up roping you in and fastening you into place besides the former High Priestess of Babylon. The feeling that you’re in control. Control which could turn on you at any second and in any other possible way…

Still, certain benefits still keeps you coming back for more, even though these acts that concurred aren’t exactly based on love. They are more so based on cheap pleasure and a futile escape from the reality which is the Fog.

She believes otherwise. It has to be adoration which has been keeping you by her side for so long, right?

To her, you’re unpredictable. But as long as these moments keep on coming, she doesn’t care in the slightest that you are.

She gasps loudly as your hands run upward before stopping al so suddenly, a frown plastering itself upon your face. A nasty scar close to her private parts has reopened recently…

She notices what your attention’s been turned to before her own face drops…

She wants to apologize to you. Apologize for the state of her body. She tries to care for it as best as she can with the washcloth, clean water and some mysterious medicine(antibiotics) you had given her. But in the Fog, it seems to have little to no effect at all lately. It did at the very beginning… But it seems the Entity disapproves of whatever you were trying to do and intervened in some way.

She opens her mouth in order to tell you that she’s sorry in the mother tongue that you speak, but a moan escapes her as your hands suddenly caress her clothed chest instead.

She is well aware that it’s difficult for you to physically advance on her any further at the moment. Even within the realm of the Entity, it’s unknown if the plague could affect you or not if you’d remain in contact with her for even a second too long. Therefore, a level of caution is strongly advised and she’s too far in to ever let her own desires jeopardize your good health.

All in all, this strange dance of necessity for your love and attention…

It’s her precious gift…

But it’s also her deepest curse…

#dbd #dead by daylight #yandere #plague #reader #insert #dbd x reader #adiris

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

Note

So... Fedyor's and Ivan's first intimate night together sounded like it went off to a good start 👀🙄👀 (how to ask for deleted scene of that without asking for deleted scene)

Anonymous asked: so what you’re saying is, is that Fedyor was the first person Ivan slept with both consensually and where there was actually like a “yea i can’t wait to see you again” on both ends

yea no...i have NO feelings that make me feel soft about that AT ALL. nope. not at all.

thank you again for all your writing, i really look forward to everything you post!

Anonymous asked: Your highness, many praises for "the better half of me" , specially chapter 3. Humbly requesting another Fivan Smut.

You are all thirsty and demanding little busybodies and I salute that.

Have an extra-special Fivan First Time in Phantomverse Full Length Smut Chapter. It follows immediately on from chapter 1 of a sky full of stars, and is also available on AO3 for your sexy reading pleasure. Please note that this chapter is very definitely rated E, and can be found below the cut.

The bedroom door has barely closed behind them by the time they are kissing again, in deep, gasping gulps as if they cannot possibly bring themselves to stop. Fedyor grips Ivan’s shirt in both fists, pulling his head down and biting at his mouth, as Ivan utters a growly little chuckle deep in his throat that drives Fedyor even more insane. He has all kinds of plans about how he’s going to make the bastard suffer for the excruciating little pantomime he just put him through, but right now, he’s still too drunk on the euphoria of actually getting to do it. Ivan kisses like he punches (or at least so Fedyor presumes, since he’s never actually seen him do it): hard, straight, deep, and utterly without mercy, and Fedyor is already addicted to it. He steps on Ivan’s feet, then swings him around toward the bed and gives him a shove, and Ivan laughs out loud as he stumbles backward and sits down with a jerk. He looks startled but pleased at this evidence of ferocity. “Oh, Fedya, you are mad, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Fedyor informs him, hopping alternately on each foot as he yanks his sock off the other. “Because you are a dick.”

“But that seems to be something you’re into, huh?” Ivan says, with a dark, alluring playfulness that does absolutely nothing to get any of Fedyor’s wayward blood back into his head. He crooks a finger. “Come here. I thought you were swearing to punish me.”

“Oh, I am.” Fedyor strides to the bed, still fuming, and hops up onto Ivan’s lap, straddling him and bracing his knees on either side of Ivan’s hips. Then he reaches down and takes Ivan’s face in both hands, tipping it back and lowering his opened mouth to Ivan’s mouth beneath him, hot and hungry and soft and hard and relentlessly insistent all at once. Fedyor grinds his hips against Ivan’s, making both of them groan, until something occurs to him, and he pulls back. “Just to be clear. We’ve recently had some, um, communication issues. We need to be very certain that we both know what we’re intending here. I’m asking you to have sex with me. Is that also what you are doing?”

Ivan looks at him as if he’s either very dim or very adorable (possibly both). “No, why do you think that?” he says, giving Fedyor a brief heart attack. Then he adds, still utterly straight-faced, “After all, I often passionately kiss people that I am not at all intending to sleep with. Especially on their bed.”

“Oh my God.” Fedyor lets go of Ivan’s face and punches him in both shoulders. “I cannot believe I like you so much. You are the worst person.”

“Mmm?” Ivan turns his face up, his arms slipping around Fedyor’s waist and pulling him closer, their lips meeting and musing, as Fedyor’s hands stray to his back and slide up beneath his shirt. His fingers explore the hard, sculpted muscles of Ivan’s torso, their faces pressed together, their tongues slipping into the other’s mouth, as Fedyor scoots up on Ivan’s lap and Ivan puts one hand under his ass and hitches him still closer. When they break apart for air, Ivan murmurs, “I would also very much like to have sex with you now, Fedya.”

“Was that so hard?” Fedyor asks, with a bit of a huff. “You utter troll.”

Ivan quirks an eyebrow devilishly, but doesn’t deny it. Then he pushes Fedyor off his lap, provoking a little whine of deprivation on Fedyor’s part, and stands up. As Fedyor stares at him in bemusement, since this is not normally the next action performed by someone who has just declared their carnal intentions to you, Ivan unbuttons his shirt, pulls it off, and folds it neatly before putting it on the chair. He then does the same with his undershirt, and even though the scenery is spectacular, Fedyor has to ask, “What are you doing?”

“I am taking off my clothes,” Ivan says, as if Fedyor might have recently gone blind in addition to his other deficiencies. “I believe that is often a necessary prelude to having sex.”

“Yes, but – ” Fedyor feels once more blindsided, which might be a recurring theme when it comes to Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov. “Don’t you think we should – I don’t know – slow down and enjoy it? Let me do it? Or – something?”

He isn’t sure if Ivan’s version of sex involves nothing more than stripping off, pumping away, and then falling asleep immediately afterward, but he hopes not. Either way, even if they are now properly using their words, there is still no guarantee that they are actually communicating. Ivan unbuckles his belt, unzipping his jeans, and Fedyor springs off the bed, catching and holding them at his hips as he’s about to pull them down. “It’s not that I don’t want you to do that,” he says. “I very much do. I just – do you have another appointment tonight or something? There’s no rush.”

Ivan looks down his long nose at him, eyes crinkled in confusion. “I don’t understand. You said that you wanted us to have sex, didn’t you?”

“I do, I really do. Ugh.” Fedyor swallows hard, which doesn’t make his throat any less dry. “It’s just, haven’t you ever heard of foreplay?”

He uses the English word, because saying something like эротическое стимулирование (roughly “erotic stimulation”) is about as sexy as a colonoscopy. Then he wonders if perhaps Ivan hasn’t heard of it at all, but that doesn’t seem likely. He reaches out and puts his hands over Ivan’s, as Ivan himself is still looking supremely baffled. “It’s okay,” he says. “I want this. I want you. I just – you surprised me, that’s all.”

“You should be more direct, Fedyor Mikhailovich,” Ivan informs him, in a bossy voice that really shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does. “So explain what you want, if it isn’t this.”

“This is my fault?” Fedyor pokes Ivan in the ribs (partly because his abs are something to behold, Fedyor can’t keep his hands off, and he dearly desires Ivan to suffer at least twice as much as he wanted him to suffer before, which is saying something). “I wasn’t sure if we were dating for two whole months, now you come in and – and – ”

He splutters into impotent silence, since he doesn’t know why he’s arguing with Ivan when he really wants to be kissing Ivan, and when obviously nothing has happened that he actually objects to. He shakes his head, swears to himself, and says, “Okay. If you’re in the mood to lay down clear parameters, what do you – what do you want? What are you expecting? Hand job, or blow job, or you know, uh, full sex? Or something else? I have condoms and lube, I’ve done most of the usual stuff before, but nothing too insanely kinky. Not that that’s bad, if you’re into that. I could be up for experimenting. Just tell me what you’re expecting from me, what gets you off. I want this to be good for you.”

Ivan looks at him with the expression of a man who has been handed the wine list at a gourmet restaurant and asked to select just one. When he doesn’t answer, Fedyor finally begins to get a sense of what might be going on. Ivan might have had sex before, as evidenced by his no-nonsense undressing, but making love – that doesn’t even appear to be part of his vocabulary. There’s an uncomfortably long pause, as Fedyor’s words hang in the air. Then he asks, his voice very soft, “Do you even know what you like?”

Ivan starts to answer, then stops. He looks away, almost as if he’s ashamed, and his Adam’s apple moves up and down as he swallows. Then he makes an odd harrumphing noise, as if he’s trying hard to sound like his normal gruff self. “I am not a virgin, Fedya.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Fedyor takes a step closer, running one finger along Ivan’s broad shoulder, the strong arch of his collarbone, the heavy muscle of his upper arms, the fine, rough hair of his forearm, his big hands and long, capable-looking fingers. Ivan closes his eyes, a restrained shudder flowing through him, as if he is holding his breath. Fedyor lifts Ivan’s hand to his mouth, turning it up and kissing the calluses on his palm. Still more softly, he says, “It’s okay, Vanya. You can tell me anything.”

“I don’t – ” Ivan harrumphs again. “Fine. You know more about this than I do. I have not – before, with the others that I have been with, it is…” He shrugs defensively. “Look. I am not bad at it. In fact, I am quite good. I can show you, if you don’t believe me?”

He makes a grab for Fedyor’s belt, since Fedyor himself is still fully clothed, but he steps back and gently pushes Ivan’s hands down. “Hold on,” he says. “I did not ask you to sleep with me because that was all I cared about, only getting myself off. We don’t have to do this. We can just cuddle, or – or watch Die Hard 2, or something else. You know that, right? I still want to see you again even if we don’t sleep together right this very instant. I also do want to sleep with you, but if you’re not comfortable – ”

“No, it’s…” Ivan is clearly struggling to articulate a concept that he might not have ever processed consciously. “No, it’s not that. I want you. I want to do this. I want to make it good for you. I promise, I absolutely do not want to watch one of those baffling American movies more than I want to sleep with you. I just don’t understand why you don’t want me to…” He makes a helpless little gesture, encompassing a multitude of sins. “You know.”

“I do, I do want you to.” Fedyor reaches out and takes both of Ivan’s hands in his own, pulling him in so that their hips to brush, their chests touch. Their heads tilt down, their mouths coming close again, both of them shuddering at the jolt of electricity that burns through them, the raw, chemical need to be kissing again, to get back to what they were doing before their pasts so inconveniently intruded. “But I want to take care of you too, and I don’t think anyone has ever done that before.”

Ivan is silent. So silent that Fedyor is afraid that he’s somehow said the wrong thing, and has to finally venture, “Vanya?”

“Ah.” Ivan’s voice is thick – which sounds for a moment, though Fedyor has trouble ever imagining it from this man – as if he might be brusquely choking down tears. “Ah, but Fedya. I thought you said that I was the worst person. Earlier.”

“I did, but that’s not…” Fedyor lays one hand against Ivan’s cheek. “I was joking, okay? Teasing you. Because you like to tease me. I didn’t actually, literally mean it.”

Ivan lifts his head, his eyes raw and vulnerable and luminous in the sliver of city light that pries through Fedyor’s bedroom curtains, and Fedyor can see the fragility beneath the iron, the delicate soul that lies somewhere deep in this tough, scary, grumpy, standoffish man. It breaks his heart in half and puts it back together all at once, and he can’t think how to respond, how to answer, how to do anything but he does, which is to cup Ivan’s head in his hands again and sway back forth. “Vanya,” he breathes, enchanted by the way it sounds on his tongue, a key to a secret world that belongs to them alone. “Oh, Vanya.”

With that, he pulls Ivan close, Ivan doesn’t resist in the slightest, and they kiss so long and so slow and so deep that it feels as if it invents its own sort of time. The world turns one way before that kiss, and after it, it turns another, as Fedyor reaches up, unbuttons his own shirt, and shucks it off. Softly he says, “Vanya, would you like to come to bed with me now?”

“Yes.” It bursts from Ivan as if it’s the only thing he can think of, something that he barely feels worthy of but wants more than life itself. “Yes, I do.”

“Okay.” Fedyor reaches out, undoes the last clasp of Ivan’s belt, and pulls it off, followed by his jeans. Ivan stands still as a statue, as if he was perfectly willing to undress himself but having someone else do it is almost unfathomable, and a shiver runs through him from head to toe as he stands there in nothing except his briefs. Fedyor looks him luxuriously up and down, then says, “Do you want to take off mine, or should I?”

“Oh, I’m doing that,” Ivan orders, sounding more like his businesslike self, as he steps in and removes Fedyor’s trousers with a method that can only be described as “surgical efficiency.” When they have been disposed of, the two of them walk back to the bed together, and each take charge of stripping off their own underwear. Then they are in nothing but their skins, and the only thing that separates them is air. Fedyor feels that prick of instinctive shyness that you always feel the very first time you’re naked with a new lover, in case there’s some secretly grotesque feature that the others failed to mention and they are actually repulsed. He works out, he eats healthy, he takes care of himself, he can be confident that he looks pretty good. But there are always the weird moles, the wonky toes, the wibbly parts of yourself that you don’t like or don’t want to see in the mirror, and it’s been a long enough dry spell that it’s his turn to feel an unwelcome attack of nerves. He looks down at the floor, barely breathing.

“Fedya.” Ivan’s voice makes him look up. “Fedya, you are…”

He stops, clearly struggling for the words. He reaches out with one broad palm and ghosts it along Fedyor’s arm, then does the same with the other hand, gripping his biceps. “Beautiful,” he says almost disbelievingly, but not as if he’s in any doubt that it applies. Only that he’s in doubt that he gets to say it, that he gets to be standing here and seeing this, that it’s so much more than he has ever dreamed or felt like he deserved. “You are beautiful.”

The low, reverent whisper of his voice, the way he sounds like he has been stabbed through the heart and utterly slain, makes gooseflesh rise in cold ripples along Fedyor’s arms. He’s outwardly confident, he has had no complaints from his past lovers, he is clearly the one who will have to take more of the lead here, but he can’t recall that anyone has ever said that to him in that awestruck tone of voice. He bites his lip, moving closer again as Ivan continues to touch him, lightly and softly and slowly, as if he’s never actually done this with another man while they’re both naked. In fact, Fedyor realizes, it’s almost certain that he hasn’t. Ivan looks startled and intrigued and turned on all at once, getting on his knees and running both hands down Fedyor’s hips, the lean lines of calf and thigh, circling around his ankles and the tender hollow of the bone. Ivan even investigates Fedyor’s toes, which he can’t recall a boyfriend ever doing (except for one weirdo off Grindr with a foot fetish, who was rather swiftly disposed of). Fedyor giggles, a little unsteadily. “Come back up here.”

Ivan runs both hands over the tops of his feet, then slowly makes his way northward again. He still hasn’t ventured anywhere 18+–rated, as if he is taking his time about getting there now that he knows their night together isn’t contingent on him giving Fedyor an orgasm as quickly as possible. He stands up and touches Fedyor’s collarbone and shoulders, his chest and nipples, the muscles of stomach and back. Fedyor used to swim competitively, and they’re still pretty trim, if he says so himself. Ivan draws the rough pads of his fingers over Fedyor’s skin, provoking another round of shivers, until Fedyor is feeling very adored and worshiped indeed but also almost out of his damn mind with lust, and in the mood to progress the activities to those of an explicitly adult nature. “Vanya,” he says breathlessly. “You are very sweet, but I really want to fuck your brains out. Is that okay?”

Ivan looks surprised. Then he laughs. “You want to fuck my – ?”

“As you would put it, that is normally implied when I say that, yes.” Fedyor tries not to shift too impatiently, but he might pass out if there’s any less blood in his head. He makes a demonstrative gesture at himself. “I’m suffering here.”

“Ah,” Ivan murmurs, with the air of a repairman confronting a difficult but fascinating mechanical problem. “Then we have to do something about that, of course.”

With that, he sweeps Fedyor up and carries him bodily to the bed, settling him down on the pillows and clambering onto all fours above him. He makes a move as if to finally go down, then stops. “You said that you had condoms. Do you want one?”

“If you’re just going to…” Fedyor is tryingto focus long enough to produce coherent speech, but it’s an almighty struggle. “You know. I’m clean, I’m not – I don’t – any diseases or anything.” Great, look at them being all adult and responsible and attempting to practice clear communication and safe sex, but he is desperate. “You’re fine to just, uh. Go for it. For the love of God, please go for it.”

Ivan considers for a final moment. Then he braces himself on both hands, slides down, and does at last, and comprehensively, go for it.

Fedyor jerks, clutching fistfuls of the bedclothes and involuntarily arching his back, as Ivan reaches up with one hand and pins his hip flat again. He doesn’t break stride, sucking Fedyor’s cock down deep and then licking a slow stripe up the underside, swirling his tongue elegantly around the tip and working him over until Fedyor is swearing profusely and doing his best not to thrash. Instead, he links his ankles around Ivan’s shoulders, sturdy and strong and moving in time to the bobbing rhythm of his head, digging his heels into the unyielding muscles of Ivan’s back. Ivan doesn’t let up on him until Fedyor is whimpering for mercy, on the very edge of coming, and seeing double. Then Ivan pulls away, his mouth wet and obscene, as he wipes it with his hand. “How are you feeling up there?” he asks, as if he doesn’t good and goddamn know. “Do you want me to finish this?”

“It’s either that,” Fedyor manages to get out, “or I murder you.”

“Tut, tut.” Ivan grins, adopting a mocking scold. “For someone who claims that you like me so much, you do threaten violence quite often, my fierce little Fedya.”

“Do not call me little.”

“Mm, maybe not.” Ivan leans down and kisses very low on Fedyor’s stomach. “This isn’t little, I’d say.”

“Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov, I swear – ”

“Shh.” Ivan pushes Fedyor’s legs to either side, holding them firmly down with each of those notably large and obnoxiously capable hands, and then goes back to finishing his work. It is, by any metric, a resounding success, and Fedyor loses track of empirical reality, his higher faculties, and for a moment there, his own name. When he finally returns to earth, he can only make out the sight of Ivan propped up on one elbow next to him and looking insufferably smug. “I told you that I was good, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Fedyor mutters, still feeling as if his spinal column has been removed. “Yes, you did say that.”

Ivan leans down to kiss him again, his mouth still tasting saltily of Fedyor, and they roll over in the bedclothes and make out for a few moments, as Fedyor hasn’t figured out how he is going to take his revenge but is determined that it will be spectacular. They need a few minutes to recover and stagger to the bathroom to drink some water, then return to the bed and flop down side by side like beached whales, giggling helplessly. Fedyor has had a boyfriend or two, but he still isn’t sure that he has ever experienced anything quite like this, the ebbs and flows, the mess, the daze, the delight, the enjoyment of the interlude just as keen as the activities themselves. Their fingers grope toward each other and clutch hold, as Fedyor lifts Ivan’s hand to his mouth and kisses it. They pant and wheeze in an undignified fashion, with no attempt to look pretty or perfect or like anything except sex-stupefied horndogs in their first post-orgasmic haze, which is what they (or at least Fedyor) absolutely are. But no matter how resoundingly he has gotten a happy ending, he has not forgotten his own plans to inflict one likewise upon Ivan, and he wants to do a very thorough job of it. Especially since Ivan doesn’t necessarily know what he likes, this is going to require a bespoke basket of boutique sexcapades, all of which makes Fedyor sound like a much more experienced lothario than he actually is. Yet as is the case in everything, practice makes perfect.

When both of them are on the road to recovery, Fedyor sits up. “I am going to conduct some important science experiments on you,” he informs the intrigued-looking Ivan. “If I do anything that you don’t like or that does not feel good, you tell me, okay? And I will stop. But you have to tell me. Not just put up with it because you think that it is what I want to do or whatever. What I want to do is to make you happy and to help figure out what you like, and I can’t do that unless you tell me what you really feel. Yes?”

“Yes,” Ivan says slowly, as if he’s trying to contemplate the idea, to wrap his head around it, and then finally manages to do so. “Yes,” he says again, louder. “I trust you, Fedya.”

Fedyor smiles at him, then reaches over, opens his bedside drawer, and pulls out his lube, squeezing it into his hands and working it until they’re warm. Then he sizes up Ivan like a painter deciding where to make his first stroke on the canvas, reaches down, and takes Ivan’s erection gently in his palm, sliding his thumb slowly up to the base of the thick shaft. A dry handjob is no fun for anyone, so Fedyor makes extra-sure that there is enough lube, watching Ivan’s face to be sure that this is going well. “Mmm? How about this?”

“Fedya,” Ivan says, sounding a little breathless. “You are very beautiful and you have my cock in your hand while you look like absolute sin. I do not need a chemistry experiment.”

“Good to know.” Fedyor bites a grin, feeling slightly diabolical himself. He tries a few strokes, slower and then faster, changing the pace and pressure, as Ivan is the one suddenly scrambling for purchase on a swiftly tilting planet. But before he brings him all the way off, Fedyor lets go, re-lubes his hands, and turns Ivan over, stroking along the muscled curve of his ass and circling around his entrance. “This?” he asks. “How does this feel?”

“Fedya – ” Ivan bites another curse. “What do you think?”

“Words, Vanya. Use them.”

Ivan rolls his eyes at the heavens in mute appeal, as if this must be his divine punishment for being such a snarky bastard (and, you know, he’s not wrong). “It feels good,” he grits out. “Do you want me to write a dissertation? With footnotes?”

“No, that’s fine.” Fedyor teases at him, opens him, slides one slick finger into Ivan’s tight and intimate heat, pushing and circling until he can slip in two. Ivan growls, recoiling up onto all fours, as Fedyor climbs up behind him and positions himself more conveniently for continuing his work. He reaches around with his free hand and takes hold of Ivan’s dick again, matching the rhythm of his strokes on the outside to the insistent pressure on the sweet spot inside him. When he finds the right place, Ivan actually yelps, and Fedyor smirks. “That,” he informs the very startled Ivan, “is where the man’s G-spot is located. It is the sensation of pressure on the prostate that feels so good. Did you know that?”

“I did not know I was dating a – ” Ivan breaks off to swear. When he stops swearing, he manages, “A fucking professor of anatomy.”

“Maybe a fucking professor.” Fedyor has to pay attention to what he is doing with both hands rather than witty banter, but he leans forward long enough to catch the shell of Ivan’s ear with his teeth. “Or a professor of fucking. Take your pick.”

“God almighty,” Ivan manages through his teeth, the muscles in his forearms straining as he braces himself on Fedyor’s mattress, and this right now, this should be carved in marble by Michelangelo (also a noted devotee of gay sex, if Fedyor recalls) and kept there forever just like this, perfect. “You are actually going to kill me, Fedyor Mikhailovich.”

“I did promise payback.” Fedyor increases the speed to ruthless levels. “Maybe next time you won’t be such a little shit, huh?”

Ivan is gasping too hard to really put much heat into it, but he still manages to aim a look over his shoulder suggesting that if this is his “punishment,” then Fedyor should probably get ready for maximum little-shitness at all times. Fedyor supposes that it is a bit counterproductive of him to reward bad behavior, but then, he’s already admitted that he is completely gone over Ivan Sakharov either way, even and (inexplicably) especially when he is such a total, godforsaken grump. He can feel in Ivan’s body that he’s close to climax, perhaps the first one that has ever been deliberately and carefully coaxed out of him like this, and feels an indecent, shivering thrill, even beyond the simple physicalities of what they are doing. It’s bewitching, intoxicating, as necessary as blood and as sweet as ambrosia. That Fedyor could be responsible for reducing a man like this to utter, incoherent cursing, the barely bridled strength in Ivan that could tear someone else apart, completely yielded up to his will, trusting him to take this body, this heart, this soul, and do whatever he pleases – to trust that it will not hurt. Fedyor is only beginning to grasp what must lie under all this, but it breaks his heart nonetheless. No, he swears, knowing somehow that even if this is their first night together, it will not be the last. I will never, ever let someone hurt you like that again.

It’s only a few more moments until Ivan is completely, outrageously losing it, as one of Fedyor’s hands turns warm and sticky and the fingers of the other are clenched slick and tight until it seems as if they have briefly been melded into one flesh. Then, as Ivan is still flat on his stomach and gulping whooping breaths as if he has been chased by a train, Fedyor smirks, pulls both hands carefully free of their entanglements, and goes to the bathroom to rinse off. When he returns, Ivan is still in the exact same position as before, and Fedyor climbs onto the bed, unable to resist a little poke. “Are you alive?”

“No,” Ivan says, voice muffled. “Ask again later.”

“Good.” Fedyor slides down next to him, throwing his arm over Ivan’s sweaty, trembling back. “So, it is fair to say that you liked that?”

“I think it is fair to say so, yes.” Ivan’s voice is extremely dry, but he shifts and rolls over to face Fedyor, their noses brushing in the dark, their heads very close on the pillow. “I shudder to imagine what you are going to do to me next, you demon.”

“Oh,” Fedyor says in a voice low with promise, reaching for the quilts and pulling them up around their waists, their naked, entangled bodies. He can definitely feel the sheer sweet satisfied sleep of sexual satiation pulling at him, but he pushes it off. He doesn’t want to do that, not quite yet. He wants to lie here in the dark with Ivan in his arms and savor every instant of what has just happened, play it back in his head, be sure that he doesn’t ever forget, not as they both should live. “Just you wait. I have plenty of ideas.”

#ivan x fedyor #heartrender husbands #fivan #a phantom in enchanting light #pel asks #anonymous #ask #fivan ff

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specialagentsergio · 4 years

Text

sweater weather

summary: The weekend before Halloween finds the BAU at a local farm, and there’s a bet on who’s going to solve the corn maze first.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: none

a/n: happy halloween! this is just something nice and fluffy for the fall season. i ended up researching corn mazes in virginia for this. (liberty mills is an actual farm in the area)

word count: 2.1k

song: sweater weather by the neighbourhood

masterlist

There’s three things every agent who starts working at the FBI’s Quantico office quickly learns about the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

First, the unit has the best case solve rate in the Bureau. Second, yes, they really do have their own jet. And third, everyone in it has a mean competitive streak. There’s no such thing as a casual bet with any of them.

You’re no exception. You don’t make it onto one of the FBI’s most elite units by keeping your head down.

And it’s that competitive nature you all possess that finds you wandering through a corn maze on a chilly October afternoon with Spencer at your side.

It’s safe to say it gets away from you sometimes.

---

It started off innocently enough. Ten minutes before the end of work on Friday, JJ approaches Spencer with a question.

“Are you and (Y/N) busy this weekend?”

“Um, I didn’t have any plans,” he replies, then turns to you. “Honey?”

“Not unless sleep counts as a plan,” you say with a shrug. The team had returned from a case yesterday that had taken nearly a week to solve. You’d slept well cuddled up with Spencer last night, but still had plenty to make up for. “What’s up, JJ?”

“Well, it’s the last weekend before Halloween, and Henry’s been dying to go pick out a pumpkin,” she says. “So Will and I said we’d take him to Liberty Mills farm tomorrow to pick one out from their patch. But, he wanted me to ask Uncle Spencer if he’d come, too, to help him pick out one that’s perfect.”

Spencer’s face lights up immediately. “I’d love to.”

JJ smiles right back. “Great! He’ll be so happy.”

“You know, Liberty Mills farm has the largest corn maze in the United States this year,” he says. “On average, it takes thirty minutes to an hour for the first and second trails, and two to three hours for the third level.”

Morgan joins the conversation. “And let me guess, pretty boy: you think you can solve it faster than that.”

“I’m not sure, actually. I haven’t ever gone through a corn maze.”

You look at him incredulously. “Really? You, of all people, haven’t done a corn maze?”

Spencer frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You love this time of year. Corn mazes are just such a fall thing that it surprises me that you haven’t done one before,” you explain.

“I don’t love fall,” Spencer corrects. “I love Halloween.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Bold words from a man who’s ordered a pumpkin spice latte every morning for the last three weeks.”

You take a moment to enjoy the blush that paints his cheeks at your words, then speak to JJ. “What time are you guys leaving?”

“We’re aiming for around nine,” she says. “It takes about an hour to get there. We can give you a ride, of course, but I’m guessing the two of you don’t want to be crammed into the backseat of our car for that long.”

Truthfully, it wouldn’t bother you much. You know Spencer would take the middle seat so he could sit next to Henry, leaving you with the better one. But the man is made of legs, and he’d get uncomfortable quickly with them squeezed into a tight space. The last thing you want is for his knee injury to flare up and leave him in pain for the rest of the day.

“Yeah, we should drive up separately,” you say. “We can just meet there.”

“Now, hang on,” Morgan says. “Is this an open invitation for anyone? Because I’ve done corn mazes before and I don’t want to pass up the opportunity to beat Reid at something.”

“Oh, I’ll take up that bet,” Emily says. “Twenty bucks says Morgan and I get through it faster than Reid.”

Spencer frowns. “Two against one? That’s not fair.”

“Well, obviously, you’re going through it with me,” you point out, lightly swatting his arm with the back of your hand. “You’re on, Emily.”

Rossi, briefcase in one hand, jacket hooked over his shoulder, comes into the fray. “What are we betting on?”

“Whether Derek and Emily or Spence and (Y/N) can solve a corn maze faster,” JJ says. She does a good job of acting exasperated, but you know she’s just as invested as the rest of you. If it wasn’t for her desire to spend time with her son, she’d probably enter herself.

“Oh, I’ll put fifty down on the kid, easy,” Rossi says.

Hotch, descending the stairs into the bullpen, overhears this and sighs. “What have I said about office bets?”

“Technically it’s not an office bet,” Emily points out quickly. “It’s something we’re doing over the weekend on our own time.”

“Yeah, this isn’t pool,” Spencer agrees. “Twenty-five on (Y/N) and I.”

“What’s this over?” Hotch asks.

“Corn maze,” Morgan explains. “I’ll add twenty-five as well on me and Emily.”

You tear a piece of paper out of one of the notebooks on your desk and start writing. “I’m putting in thirty,” you say as you write it down. Spencer may have never been in a corn maze before, but you have, and you’re pretty great at them. “Everyone write down their bets on here.”

“What about you, Aaron?” Rossi asks as the paper makes it way through the group.

Hotch shakes his head. “I’m not getting into this.”

“You should still come,” JJ says, scribbling down her wager. “There’s a pumpkin patch you can take Jack to.”

“I did promise him we’d carve a pumpkin this weekend,” he muses.

Penelope toddles in on her high heels with her bag over her shoulder. “What’s going on?” She frowns. “Am I being left out of something?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby girl,” Derek says, slinging his arm around her shoulders. “We’re having a family outing to some farm tomorrow—”

“Liberty Mills farm,” Spencer interjects.

Morgan rolls his eyes. “We’re going to Liberty Mills farm tomorrow. You in?”

Penelope’s face breaks into her bright, radiant smile, warming up the room just like she always does. “Of course! JJ, please tell me my beautiful little godson is coming, too.”

“You can even help him pick out a pumpkin,” JJ replies and Penelope squeals.

“This is going to be so much fun! I can’t wait!”

---

A breeze ripples the cornstalks as you navigate the maze with your boyfriend. You’re on the fourth trail, the mystery maze portion. Derek had insisted on that after learning that Spencer saw a picture of the main maze over your shoulder while you were looking up the directions online. You’d agreed that it was only fair to do the mystery section; his eidetic memory would make it too easy to get through the main portion now.

You shiver at the cold and press yourself against Spencer’s side. It’s around four PM, but the temperature has already started to drop, and it’s especially chilly away from all the people and attractions, isolated in the maze.

Spencer lets go of your hand and you open your mouth to protest, but he speaks before you can. “Hang on, I have something for you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise as he lifts the flap of his satchel and pulls out a blanket that really shouldn’t have been able to fit in there. He drapes it around your shoulders and punctuates the action with a kiss on your forehead.

“Have you been carrying this around all day?” you ask incredulously. It’s new; you haven’t seen it before. The fabric is incredibly soft and the design is made up of your favorite colors.

He nods. “You get cold faster than I do, and you get cranky when you’re cold.”

“Yeah, how does that work?” you muse, pulling the blanket around you tighter. “You’re so thin. I feel like you should get cold at least as fast as me.”

“Well, if we look at the laws of thermodynamics,” he begins and you tuck yourself into his side with a small smile. He rambles for a while and you listen patiently, nodding and giving him “uh-huh”’s every so often to affirm your interest (though honestly, a good portion of it goes over your head—most of your studies in college were focused on psychology and sociology).

“I see,” you murmur when he finishes, and it’s not a lie—you think you understand the basics. You briefly stop him from walking to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for the blanket. I love you.”

It’s hardly the first time you’ve said it, but he still blushes. “Love you, too.”

“Now,” you say, taking his hand back into your grip. “Let’s win this bet.”

Sixty minutes later, a smile tugs at your lips. Spencer’s corrected you on a few turns, being able to say for certain if you’ve taken a path before, and now you’re close to the end of the maze. You can feel it. You tug on his hand, picking up your pace. “Come on. We’re close.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.” You let go of his hand and break into a jog, recalling the hot apple cider stand you saw earlier in the day. You can’t wait to wrap your hands around a cup of it.

“(Y/N)—” he starts, and you look back just in time to see him trip over a root and almost fall face first into the dirt, just barely catching himself on his hands.

You try not the laugh, but a small giggle slips out. “Sorry,” you say, fighting a smile.

He just rolls his eyes as he pushes himself up. “Can you slow down?” he asks. “The cold is making my knee hurt.”

Your expression immediately drops. “Yeah, of course.”

Five minutes later, you’re exiting the maze. Rossi’s waiting at the end and cheers when he sees the two of you. “Ah, yes! I knew it!”

“We’re first?” Spencer asks.

“Of course we are.” You remove one arm from your blanket cocoon and place your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him towards you for a kiss. He hums happily against your lips.

He hugs you from behind as you wait for Derek and Emily, sliding his hands under the blanket and into your sweater’s pockets. They’re ten minutes behind you.

“Ah, come on, man,” Derek laments when he sees you.

“Dammit,” Emily sighs. “You two better be buying dinner tonight.”

“Oh, we’d love to,” you tease.

“How far ahead of us were you?” Morgan asks.

“Twenty minutes,” Spencer replies, and you don’t have to turn around to know the smirk he’s sporting.

You elbow him lightly. “Ten,” you correct.

The five of you meet back up with the others near the entrance of the farm. Penelope had held onto the small pumpkin you’d picked out earlier in the day and hands it to you now. You have paint back home that you’re planning to use to decorate it. Spencer had no desire to get one to carve; he can’t stand touching the pumpkin guts.

“So who won?” she asks.

“Well, going by Spence’s expression, I’m guessing he and (Y/N) did,” JJ says.

Henry lets go of his mother’s hand and approaches Spencer, lifting his arms in a request to be picked up. “We sure did,” Spencer says as he obliges. “Isn’t that right, Henry?”

You grin. “Dinner’s on us.”

---

The team’s seated at your usual table at one of the restaurants you all like to frequent. There’s smiles and laughter all around. Jack is telling his dad, Beth and Morgan about the design he wants to carve into the rather large pumpkin he picked out. Penelope, JJ, and Emily are chattering about Emily’s date tomorrow. (You’ve seen pictures of the woman and she’s gorgeous; Emily also seems completely enamored with her.) Rossi is following up with Will on a recipe he gave him to try. Henry has vacated his seat next to Spencer to sit on his lap instead, and both of you are helping him color in the picture on his placemat.

When JJ takes Henry to wash his hands, you take the opportunity to put your hand on Spencer’s knee. “How’s it feeling?” you ask.

“Better, now that it’s warm.” He pauses, then says, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Coming with me today. I had a lot of fun. I...” He fiddles with the corner of the placemat. “I never really got to do stuff like this when I was a kid. You know, because...”

You nod; you know what his upbringing was like. “Well, I’m happy to have been a part of it.”

Spencer leans into you, tucking one of his legs behind yours. You squeeze his knee lightly and he lets out a sigh of contentment. He stays like that until Henry returns. The food arrives shortly afterward. Before you take your first bite, you run your eyes across everyone at the table.

It’s a strange, mismatched family you and Spencer have, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #fluff #my fic #don't mind me just reposting bc tumblr blocked this from the tags for whatever reason

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realcube · 3 years

Text

her prince || fairytale au! iida x reader

summary: you disguise as a princess in order to get into a formal event at the palace with the intention of killing the king but then you encounter the prince, soon to be king, and he’s a bit more charming than you’d like to admit.

(a/n): idk this might be a royalty au! or perhaps a medieval au! but idek tbh

tw// fem! reader, poison, mentions of animal zapping, begging, a bit of meanie iida

“Why does (y/n) get to be the princess?” Your friend, and fellow member of the SOIR, whined from beside you. “She has the most peasanty features out of us all!”

Everyone else in the base groaned in union at her constant whining about the assigned roles, the ring leader of this operation — otherwise known as Katsuki Bakugo — finally broke his elongated silence as he previously seemed quite invested in whatever he was scribbling.

Suddenly, he shot up from his desk then proceeded to slam his fist against it, causing all of it’s contents to tremble, “Shut up! As if you’re one to talk about peasanty features, Mina!” He barked at the girl, his aggressive demeanour faltering once he noticed how his hostility caused you to wear an alarmed expression.

“We need her natural charm on the field, anyway.” he muttered, hastily sitting back down at his desk. Kirishima, Sero and Kaminari all had to do their best to suppress their snickers and focus on the tasks they had been given. However, they were all struggling as it was simply comedy gold to see their boss have such an evident crush on (y/n) but simultaneously be so far deep in denial for the sake of his pride.

Bakugo grabbed the scroll he had been writing on for the last few hours and held it up to display what looked like a numbered list, written in cursive. Therefore, you were unable to read it. In fact, none of you were able to read it; Bakugo was the only literate one among you, hence the reason why he immediately assumed leader of this operation even though it was originally your idea.

Upon noticing all of your blank expressions as you stared at what looked like a glorified piece of paper, he cleared his throat so he could begin explaining what he wrote to you. “I wrote out the plan-of-action for us to follow tomorrow but I forgot that you are all dunces so I’m going to have to read it aloud for you, aren’t I?”

You all nodded in unison which was promptly followed by Bakugo rolling his eyes once more and turning to read the plan.

“SOIR — stage one in (the) revolution — plan of action. Written and led by Katsuki Bakugo, soon to be King Explosion Murder!” He smiled to himself but it was accompanied by a chorus of groans from the rest of you.

“Step one; Kaminari steals a horse from his dad’s farm at exactly 5:15PM, rides it to the outskirts of the village so Sero can hook it up to the carriage. Meanwhile, Mina will assist (y/n) in putting on her gown and help ensure Kirishima puts on his suit and make-up properly. Afterwards, both parties will meet up by the carriage.

Step two; Sero will be coachman for the carriage to take (y/n) and Kirishima to the castle. Take the desired route and you should arrive at the palace by 6PM.

Step three; Sero will drop off Kirishima and (y/n) then ride back to this base immediately, where Kaminari, Mina and myself will already be waiting. As for (y/n) and Kirishima, they will try to get into the palace and keep a low profile.”

You sighed, aware of how much Bakugo hates to be interrupted during his ‘serious monologue’, and you could tell it was one of those as he used your real names rather than the nicknames he’d given to you like ‘dunceface’ or ‘the pauper’. However, you just had to interject as you were yet to be filled in with some crucial information to your part of the operation.

“Bakugo,” You halted him as he finished his sentence, quickly averting your gaze to the floor as you had a habit of losing your train of thoughts as you looked into his fierce crimson eyes. “How are we supposed to get in? Are there any openings or secret passages you’ve located?” Your eyes widened in excitement at the idea that you could be like a proper assassin; using secret passages, going undercover, dealing with poison and all that good stuff!

“No.” Bakugo replied bluntly, instantly shooting down any dreams you had of this being a cool mission. “Security on the palace will extremely tight considering this is a royal event. Only people who received an invite from the palace — hence, on the guest list — are allowed in, but I’ve already dealt with that obstacle--”

“You mean I dealt with that obstacle!” Kaminari cut him off with an offended tone before turning to look at you and Kirishima. “I was the one who zapped that messenger raven out of the sky to steal the invitation!”

“Shut it, moron!” Bakugo barked, slamming his fist against the desk once again to grab everyone’s attention, his palm emitting tiny, and very much illegal, explosions. He slowly shifted his gaze on to you and spoke in an eerily soft tone, “Anyway, you and Kirishima will go under the aliases of ‘Princess Momo Yaoyorozu from the Yaoyorozu isles, and company’. So you will be able to waltz right in there, just don’t act suspicious.”

“How come (y/n) gets a cool, noble name and I am just ‘company’. Also, if my role is unspecified then why do I have to be her father? Can’t I just be her brother or something so I don’t have to wear that silly old-person wig?” Kirishima whined, immediately followed by Bakugo glaring daggers at him.

“No, idiot, you have to be her father. If you dress as an old man then you’d be more likely to get in close proximity to the King.” Bakugo replied, impatience laced in his voice. He prided himself in coming up with such a logical excuse on the spot when in reality, the reason he wanted Kirishima to dress up as an old man was to guarantee that you don’t fall for him while on this mission. I mean, no matter how ravishing Kirishima was, how could you find him the least bit attractive while he looked like he was on the brink of extinction?

Kirishima grumbled inaudible curses under his breath as he slumped back in his chair defeatedly. Followed by Bakugo trying to resume his lecture but ceasing to do so as the familiar sound of groans erupted from all of you.

“You’ve been over the last part of the plan, like, ten times already. Just today!” Mina pointed out, folding her arms of her chest and jutting her bottom lip out in disapproval.

Sero hastily agreed with the girl, “Yeah! Here, I’ll summarise it for you.” Sero snickered before clearing his throat to prepare for his Bakugo impression, “ ‘You guys will sneak poison into the King’s quiche or whatever then I, King Explosion Murder, will come marching in to save the day and reclaim the land by declaring myself the new king! Bow to me, peasants!’ ”

You and Mina both giggled at Sero’s rather accurate, yet satire, impersonation of the leader himself. While Kaminari and Kirishima both jokingly bowed to Sero, robotically muttering ‘all hail, king explosion murder.’

“Hey! Quit it!” Bakugo bellowed, furrowing his eyebrows as he clasped his hand together and pressed inwards, forcefully repressing his urge to blow up the whole fucking base. “I’m not going to go over the plan again so if one of you dumbasses mess it up tomorrow then you’re getting a boot to the face, got it?”

“Yes, Lord Explosion Murder.” You all said monotonously in concert.

“You’re all fools!”

»»—————-　♔　—————-««

Step one, two and three had went smoothly. It almost seemed to good to be true.

Kaminari successfully managed to borrow the horses without anyone noticing, Mina did a spectacular job of making Kirishima look like an old man — as well as the skilful embroidery on your dress — and Sero managed to drive you here with all your limbs still intact.

As for you and Kirishima, you both mastered the role of snobby aristocrats surprisingly fast, considering you both came from extremely deprived families. But it was as if the lifestyle just came naturally to you, hence you were both able to enter the castle without a problem.

However, no amount of acting expertise would allow you to hide the star-struck look which took over your features as you admired the massive Corinthian hall which you had the honour of stepping into. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, providing light along with the pale candles which sat in the alcoves of the walls. The roof was jaw-droppingly high and was expertly painted with detailed images of religious scenes; angels, the virgin mary, jesus, fairies, dragons, everything.

At the other side of the hall sat none of than the King himself, looking smugly upon the crowds of people that filled his ballroom as he sat upon his extravagant throne, made of gold mined by slaves and welded together by citizens of the kingdom who were currently in poverty, but who the king also claimed to care so deeply about.

Disgusting. Consequent to seeing that evil vermin, your look of awe immediately dropped.

Your eyebrows knitted together as you simply could not avert your gaze from that man and his generally villainous demeanour that everybody just seemed to ignore. With a sigh, you leaned back against a pillar and mused, “Ugh, look at that vile creature just sitting here like he owns the place, just wait until he gets a taste of his own medicine. Right, Kirishima?”

You spoke, spinning your head around to look at your red-haired partner after you received nothing but a muffled ‘huh?’ as an answer. “What do you mea- oh!” you instantly cut yourself off upon realising that who you were spilling your plans to was not Kirishima but rather some dashing young man who was currently stuffing his was with damper bread.

“I- I am so sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else. Erm, uh, I shall take my leave now.” You stuttered, swiftly turning on your heels to bolt off in search of Kirishima but you were stopped in your tracks by the man scarfing the last piece he was holding to offer out his hand to you.

“No need to apologise! I, too, mistook you for someone else. That is why I was eating so gluttonously in your presence, my apologies.” He said, leaning forward into a bow to press a gentle kiss on your chuckles once you gave him your hand.

“I’m Tenya Iida, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you!” He spoke, his tone suddenly becoming a lot less formal after he straightened up from his bow while slowly retracting his hand. “And would I be right in assuming that you are Princess Yoayorozu of the Yoayorozu Isles?”

Now that he was standing straight, without a pudding in his hand, you could take a moment to discretely examine him. He stood tall with his shoulders back and his head high to perfectly balance his glasses on the bridge of his nose, everything about his posture screamed ‘royalty’, not to mention his blue undercut which was slicked back into a loose comb-over. As for his outfit, he wore a white shirt along with a royal blue tie which complemented his blazer which was a similar shade, with the kingdom’s crest positioned on the left hand side of his chest. There was also his straight-legged navy trousers, his black derby shoes and his matching designer watch but what really brought the outfit together was his bold, enchanting smile.

You blinked a few time as it took a moment for that name to register in your mind but once it, you nodded rapidly in response. “Ah, yes, that would be me.” You chirped casually until his name finally clicked in you’re head, “Wait, are you Iida Tenya like- the king’s son Iida Tenya or?” You inquired, trying to act ‘casual’ as if you hadn’t been practising many week preparatory for today but the nervous look in your eyes was unconcealable.

Iida couldn’t help but chuckle at how bewildered you seemed while asking that question, “Well, yes, unfortunately.” He mumbled the last part but it was still said clearly enough for you to hear. “As you are probably aware, today is my coronation. But to say that I’m dreading the crowning is an understatement.”

You quirked an eyebrow at this new information. Well, it wasn’t really knew. The whole of SOIR knew that the formal event was going to the coronation for the new king. Hence, you and Kirishima were made aware that you had two targets to eliminate, but if you had known that the to-be king was such a cutie nice guy then perhaps you would’ve fought his case.

Logically speaking though, for this plan to work, both targets had to be eliminated. It was pointless to only poison the current king, as the crown would already be Tenya’s since the dinner which you planned to spike was going to be served after the crowning. And if you only poisoned Iida, not only would that upset you but the king would simply hand his status over to Tensei, who had been pushed back in the line for the crown due to his impairments after leading and fighting in many wars.

But, how could you kill Tenya when he was just so...charming?

None the less, somebody had to it. The lives of many citizens were in your hands tonight, as success would lead to improved situations for all. Once the monarchy is gone, there will be nobody stopping you from using your quirks freely! Plus, the royals would no longer hoard all the luxury and wealth of the kingdom, so everybody would be able to lead happy lives, free from financial burdens.

The list goes on but for now, you just had to look that fetching prince right in the eyes and think to yourself, ‘he’s the reason i’m poor’; which was easy to believe considering that the watch adorning his left wrist was probably worth enough to free your whole family from poverty.

It somewhat worked, but not really. The way his honeyed crimson eyes would gaze into your own was enough to make your heart flutter but you mentally reassured yourself that you were most definitely not falling and heart palpitations were just a symptom from your lack of sleep.

“Anyway,” Iida began once more, the tips of his ears heating up as he realised that he had been staring at you for an elongated amount of time. “It has been lovely speaking to you today but it’s about time that I take my leave, duty calls.” He said, mentally scolding himself for being such a creep and hoping that you paid no mind to his lengthened gaze.

“Ah, alright, I wouldn’t want to keep you any longer than needed.” You sung, awkwardly fidgeting with your fingers as you recalled the ‘manner classes’ Bakugo made you and Kirishima take part in to help you avoid instances like this where you had no clue how to formally end an interaction, with a prince of all people.

It was a long shot but it was your best guess. You swiftly grabbed Iida’s hand, pulled it up to your face and before he had time to react, you planted a kiss on his knuckles — just like had done to you — before bolting off into the sea of aristocrats to go find Kirishima. Leaving Iida standing, blushing more than ever, slightly confused but mostly amused.

“She’s really something.” He muttered to himself, scratching the side of his neck before hurriedly marching towards the throne, in search of his brother.

Although their interaction was brief, Iida would be lying if he said he wasn’t silently praying that he’d run into the girl again.

»»—————-　♔　—————-««

Step 4 went perfectly.

‘mingle for exactly 10 minutes until food preparation. Then, (y/n) will use her quirk to sneak into the kitchen while Kirishima distracts anyone that could catch her in the act.’

Bakugo’s gruff voice echoed throughout your head like that of a siren, as you waited for the perfect opportunity to spike the three large, extravagant platters of food laying on the golden trolley which was rumoured to deliver all three of the king’s daily meals.

At first you thought you had an issue as you had no idea which meal belonged to which person, they all looked almost identical, meaning that you might accidently poison the wrong meal, hence murder Tensei in vain. However, then you recalled a piece of wisdom Bakugo had given you offhandedly once, ‘y’know, there’s a tradition in this kingdom stating that the elders should be served the most salad on the side of a dish — so hand over your cucumbers, bitch!’

So with that in mind, your arm emerged from the shadows once most of the cooks had cleared from the kitchen to tend to other duties, and you dropped some of the poison into the dish with the most salad and the dish with the least to ensure that Tensei got to see the light of tomorrow.

I mean, you could’ve just poisoned all three to avoid doing all that critical thinking but not only was it risky, you also kind of had a soft spot for Tensei despite the fact he was basically double your age.

Utilising the shadows as your disguise, you stuck out of the kitchen yet you were unable to find a pathway back into the ballroom since there were just so many chefs crowding around the entrance to kitchen. You were sure to get caught if you exited the shadows from there but luckily, there was alternative.

There was a back door of the kitchen which led out into the grand garden, allowing the chefs to waft the smoke out and into the open air, if needed. So through the shadows, you were able to sneak out into the garden without being noticed by a single person.

Or so you thought.

As you jumped out of the shadows and swiftly turned a corner to look for a route back into the palace, you were greeted by a familiar face that wore an incredibly stunned expression. From behind their glasses, they squinted to try recognise you through the dark night.

“Oh, Ms Yaoyorozu.” Iida chuckled, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he realised that it was you he had bumped in to during his attempt at ditching his own coronation. Also, since he had just witnessed you doing a rather illicit act. “I’m not sure if you were ever made aware, but quirk usage is very much forbidden in this kingdom.”

You blinked rapidly, surprised at how oddly level-headed he was being about having just watched you sneak out of the kitchen, “Oh-” you choked, looking around to see if anybody else was around but the coast seemed to be clear; well, as far as you could tell, but that wasn’t easy considering the foggy night appeared to fleece everything. “I am so sorry. I was never told about such rules but I’ll be su--”

“Yes, you were.”

There was a while of silence between the two of you. To say you were taken aback was a understatement, why was he suddenly so confrontational? And why did he say that with such a nasty look in his eyes? Does he know something you do not? Even though you had only met him barely an hour ago, you could still tell that his comment was quite out-of-character. Hence you were hardly able to stammer out a reply, “W-w- um, was I?”

The tip of Iida’s lips twitched upwards as examined your bewildered expression; it brought him infinite amounts of amusement at how ignorant you must’ve thought he was to imagine that he could fall for your silly little ploy.

“Yes. Well, I mean, Ms Yaoyorozu had knowledge of these laws; the rules of the kingdom were attached to the invite, but you’ve made it rather clear that you’re not Yaoyorozu.” The words rolled off his tongue, each one sharper than the last; he didn’t plan on calling you out on your impersonation tonight but as his eyes skimmed over the terrified expression on you face, he was immensely glad that he did.

“So, tell me, who are you? Other than a scum-of-the-earth imposter that deserves to rot in slums for the rest of their poor, pathetic life.

You faltered slightly at his threat before blurting out, “Momo’s cousin.”

Iida snorted, but quickly tried to force a serious scowl back onto his features, “Exactly how gullible do you think I am?”

At this point, you were at a loss. The prince stood angry in front of you; meaning that it only took a yell for most of the guards in the palace come marching over to you, before tossing into the dungeon cell which you would have no choice but to call home for the rest of your life.

So if you didn’t act fast and wisely, this could be the last moment of freedom you’ll ever experience.

Throwing away your pride, you dropped to your knees in front of the prince, leaning forward to press your forehead against the shining tops of his derby shoes as you cried, but not loud enough to catch the guard’s attention.

“Please, your highness! I- I’m just a kid; like you! I swear I wasn’t here to cause trouble, I just--” your pleas were cut off by your own saliva getting temporarily caught in your throat but this gave you the opportunity to conjure up a believable excuse.

“I just--” you repeated, desperately attempting to come up with something until you mindlessly blurted out, “I just wanted to feel like royalty! Please give me another chance!”

Iida eyes widened at this; was it too far-fetched to believe that you created an elaborate plan to sneak into the palace, all for the ‘aesthetic’? Perhaps. But the way your glossy, sorrow-filled eyes looked up at him from the ground made his heart sink to his stomach while a sickly feeling ascended to his throat.

He felt so guilty.

In a moment of panic, he used his power to threaten and frighten a poor girl to the point where she was now begging for life on the paving beneath him. Although you were technically a felon, there seemed to be no malicious intentions behind your crime so why should you be prosecuted for it? Yet Iida still used his status to instil fear into you, solely to feel superior.

Perhaps he is not as different from his father as he once thought; a horrible feeling really, as Tenya despised no one more than that man. Iida wants no association with him or the horrible monocracy established in the kingdom. Which is why he chose to run away from his coronation. He hoped to fake his own kidnapping for a few weeks, then he’d come out of hiding and pray that Tensei had been given the crown instead.

He couldn’t bare seeing you on the dirty ground any longer so he hastily took your hand to assist you in standing back upright, “It’s-- you’re pardoned, just please come with me. This’ll only take a moment.”

At this point you’d just go along with anything he said, under the assumption that if you disobeyed, you’d be banished. So you trailed behind him, his hand acting as your guide since you could hardly see past the tears which clouded your vision.

You both approached a white wooden gazebo with a matching pale metal bench, he quickly took a seat and pulled you down next to him, sandwiching your hand in-between his own and caressing the back with his thumb as he waited patiently for you blubbers to die down.

His lips fell into a frown as he watched you desperately wipe the tears away from under your eyes but smear your expertly applied mascara in the process, “My sincerest apologies; I don’t know what came over me.” He spluttered, harshly biting his bottom lip to silence himself.

You took deep breaths, hurriedly trying to compose yourself before the prince snapped at you again. So, once the tears had stop brimming in your eyes, you looked at him with a ready expression. However, your faint sniffles, red eyes and smudged make-up didn’t do a good job at reinforcing it.

“Alright,” Iida started, removing one of his hands from yours to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I understa--”

“Are you going to imprison me?”

Iida choked on thin air, his eyes widening at your random — but seemingly genuine — inquiry. “Good heavens, no! Never! What makes you think that?” Was he really that menacing? He was only a prince and he was already using his authority for intimidation. Iida could only imagine how mad with power he’d become if he were to take the crown.

Good thing he wasn’t going to.

The reality of the situation you were in hit you like a truck as you caught a glimpse of the time from Iida’s designer watch since he had his hand resting upon your knee. You inhaled sharply, doing your best to compose yourself, “Sir-”

“No need to call me ‘sir’, I’m Tenya. Plus, we’re around the same age so ‘sir’ is hardly appropriate.” He chuckled, his lips forming a reassuring smile. In any other case, he’d go by Iida but he didn’t want you to associate him with his father in any sense, even if it was just by surname.

“Oh, how rude of me. I completely forgot to ask, what’s your name? And you have my word that I won’t do anything spiteful with this information.”

“I’m (y/n).” You replied without a second though, before continuing, “Your crowning is supposed to be in 10 minutes, correct? I think you should get going.” You hummed, trying your best to hide how tense and conflicted you were. If Iida doesn’t bugger off right now then he’s gonna miss the ceremony which will lead to a high chance of the event being rescheduled, therefore you’re going to have to act out this plan all over again! How many more messenger ravens does Kaminari need to zap?!

But on the other hand, there was some part of you that really didn’t want him to leave for some reason; perhaps you enjoyed his company a little more than you’d like to admit. Another part of you said that he doesn’t deserve to die, he’s too nice of a guy; then you remembered the evil, corrupt glint in his eyes as he told you about the fate he wished upon you just a few minutes ago, then you didn’t feel as bad.

Your kind reminder was met by Iida simply shaking his head, “Absolutely not! There is no way I can leave you after I said those horrible things. Plus, it’s not as if I want to be king, anyway.” He mumbled the last part but of course you heard it as his face was only a few inches away from yours.

“Why don’t you want to be king?”

Iida didn’t even hesitate to reply with the response that had been waiting on the tip of his tongue, “I shan’t participate in the monarchy. I plan on staying in hiding for a week before coming out, hopefully by then Tensei will be crowned king and I will get to lead the army instead.”

As soon as his plan fell from his lips, his eyes immediately widened. Why was he telling you this?! I mean, now that you knew his plan, once he ‘goes missing’ you could easily tell the king that this was part of his scheme all along, in which case the king wouldn’t crown Tensei and instead send out search parties for Tenya. But then again, why would the king listen to a pauper like you? No offence, it’s just that those who come from a lower social status are less likely to be allowed in the castle, and less likely to meet the king.

So he reasoned to himself that there was no harm in telling you his plan, but a part of him couldn’t help but wonder why he subconsciously felt comfortable enough to tell you in the first place. I mean, he’s only known you for an evening; surely there’s no why he’s caught feelings this fast, right?

Your heart skipped a beat upon hearing his circumstances, thinking that this was the end of SOIR, but the more you thought about it, you realised that perhaps this was a good thing.

This meant that — assuming the king eats the meal prepared for him regardless of the ceremony — the king will be dead so the only person you’d have to eliminate was Tensei who was widely known to be more lenient about the rules of the kingdom. I mean, he let his troops take a water-break during battle for goodness’ sake! Assassinating him should be a piece of cake, especially for the SOIR.

Also, this ensures that you won’t have to kill Tenya, which is a thought that made you oddly happy and relieved.

Sniffling quietly, you rubbed beneath your eyes to further mess up the eyeliner and mascara Mina had done for you. Then you hummed, “Oh, that’s cool, Tenya.”

“And I would like for you to be my bride once I emerge from hiding!”

You froze, blinking rapidly and inquiring further in hopes that perhaps you misheard him, “Huh? Your what?”

“Bride!” He chirped, scanning the baffled look on your face and figuring that he should elaborate, “See, I think it works in both of our favours; you get to live a somewhat royal life and I get to settle down with someone who my father did not pick out for me. Plus, though I’m no love expert, I can definitely feel something special between the two of us. I hope that’s not just me being a fool. But anyway, I completely understand if you refuse, marriage is a huge commitment.”

Even after he finished explaining, you still sat there staring at him, absolutely flabbergasted that he really just asked you to marry him. Also, quite shocked that there was a scarily large part of you that wanted to accept his offer.

“Tenya, we literally just met a few hours ago.”

“Six, to be exact.” he corrected you, accompanied by a little shrug as to say ‘who cares?’

“And we are both sixteen.” You continued to rationalise but talking to Iida when he’s dead-set on something was like talking to a brick wall; a brick wall that provided logical arguments, the worst kind of wall.

“The average life expectancy in this kingdom is 35 years of age so if you think about, we’re basically half way through our lives already. Why not settle down?”

Although, his statements were annoying as hell, the charming smile that decorated his face while he spoke was enough to convince that he was right. Despite the fact those statistics were clearly a sample from the lower class; royalty would obviously live to a much higher age. Plus, he was definitely correct about the special feeling between the two of you, like you have genuinely never felt more endeared by a person’s presence before, especially after they were just wishing hellfire upon you a few minutes ago. six, to be exact

As he sat there and exchanged a longing gaze with you, the voice in your head that wanted you to accept his proposal was getting larger and larger by the second, drowning out the voice that strictly wanted to put an end to his clownery and that voice sounded eerily like bakugo. You’re a woman of logic, and logic says you should accept. Because, if you say no, there’s no turning back and you’ll probably never get another opportunity like this again in your life. But if you say yes, you have two whole weeks to make up your mind as to whether you actually want to marry him or not, and if you don’t, you can always break up with him after he comes out of hiding. Additionally, you’ll be able to go back to the base and confer with the SOIR as to what you should do. Also, you were kinda in love with him, but logic disregards love.

Iida moved his hand from your knee to hold both of your hand in his own while his gaze filled with yearned remained locked onto your eyes, he’s truly never seen anyone more beautiful before. Despite the fact you make-up was ruined, tears were stained to your face and mascara was smeared under your eyes, you still looked ten times more divine than any queen he’s ever seen.

“So, (y/n), what do you say?”

#bnha iida #iida x you #iida x y/n #bnha x reader #tenya fluff #mha tenya #tenya x y/n #my hero academia iida #bnha royalty au #iida royalty au #iida tenya #tenya x reader #tenya x you #iida imagine #tenya imagine #tenya iida

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Stockings (S.R.)

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series or a standalone

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 3000

Summary: You just wanted to decorate the apartment for a bit, you swear.

It wasn’t your fault that it was impossible to stay with your mind out of the gutter for longer than five minutes whenever Steve was around.

A/N: No knowledge of Attached needed I think 😉 Feel free to read as a standalone, you’ll find it in my masterlist as both.

A/N 2: For @wonderlandmind4 ‘s challenge. Congrats on your follower count and for coming up with this awesome challenge!

Prompt: “Those - weren’t the kind of stockings I had in mind-“ (bold in text)

Warnings: suggestive themes, implied smut with tiny bit of action so 18+, nsfw, language (always), and one (1) trope that has definitely been used before

Series masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

When the idea of decorating first flashed through your mind, it was, honest to God, completely innocent.

Due to loads of schoolwork, Halloween somehow passed by and you barely noticed, the most festive thing you had done being the indulgent orders of pumpkin spiced lattés and hogging some of the candy for your exam time stress-eating. Candy which just happened to be shaped like spiders, snakes, witches and other lovely stuff.

But that was it and with ditching the spooky holiday and the Thanksgiving which no one in your apartment was allowed to talk about, you itched to celebrate at least one of the holidays in peace and with everything that belonged with it.

Gifts, obviously.

Baking, perhaps.

Decorations, absolutely.

Last year, you and Penny had gone a bit overboard, fully affected by the holiday madness, and bought half the store (well, as much as your financial situation allowed anyway). Your dorm room looked as if Santa puked there, as Penny elaborately put it, but you both adored it.

Now, with Steve, you knew you had to be considerably more restrained.

Not that he would notice if your apartment turned into a damn Santa village, because he was too preoccupied with grading midterm papers. Non-stop, it seemed. The pile never ever appeared to be reducing.

However, you and Steve had set a rule that even if you were both crazy busy, you’d make time for at least one or two evenings together – simply to take few moments to fully appreciate each other’s company.

That night, Steve’s mind wandered despite trying to stay focused on you, you could tell. You felt for him, you truly did… but you missed him. Your time together, truly together, became so rare lately and--- you didn’t want to end up like the couple that kisses goodnight and good-morning just because they share quarters and a bed, and ignores one another for the rest of the day.

Rather than letting the gloomy thoughts consume you though, you tried a different approach; humour.

After all, that was how your relationship had started, along with loads of awkwardness.

“Penny says hi, by the way,” you said casually, practically feeling Steve’s absence despite his body engulfing you as you cuddled on the couch, movie on your laptop playing in the background which neither of you were watching.

Steve hummed, his fingers never ceasing the comforting strokes on your arm.

You adored him, you did – which really was the reason why you couldn’t but mess with him, tease him for his mental trip to the far-away lands.

“She and Bucky hooked up again.”

“Mm.”

“She still claims he was the best she ever had.”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Steve muttered, almost as if he was actually listening to you.

“I’m meeting them tomorrow both, because they offered me a threesome.”

“That’s nice.”

The corners of your lips twitched. God, Steve was lucky to have you to take his mind off his job sometimes, otherwise he would work himself into the ground with how much of his brain space was filled with university matters. He was so detached from life sometimes…

“Bucky asked if he could film it, do you think I should say yes?”

“Whatever you think—wait WHAT?!” he cried out, sitting up straight, hence pushing you up too since you had been nestled on his chest.

Giggles erupted from your throat as you watched his perplexed and scandalized face, realization slowly dawning on him as he probably went over the last few sentences that left your mouth – and his expression gradually melted into an apologetic one, blending into exhaustion as he ran his hand down his face.

You cupped his cheeks then, leaning in to plant a kiss on his forehead – you would swear it was a fraction hotter than normal, his poor brain overheating – and stifled the aww threatening to spill when Steve closed his eyes contentedly, a hum vibrating in his chest.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing your lips chastely before wrapping his arms around you to hold you close again, face nuzzling your hair. “I’m listening now.”

You curled into his warmth, much more welcoming than the comforter wrapped around you.

“It’s okay, Stevie. I know you’re tired. We’ll just call it a night.”

“But you wanted to talk about something?” he protested softly, earning a hum in affirmation.

“Just wanted to ask if you’d be okay with me decorating the apartment? Just a bit, to bring a piece of the Christmas spirit in here?”

You could feel his smile against your scalp as his thumb caressed your shoulders blades, his large form shifting for a bit.

“We both live here, sweetheart,” he reminded you and you made a tiny sound of protest. Yes, he was correct, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t consult him on stuff before messing with the interior, even if it was with the best intentions. Duh. “But I appreciate you asking. Decorations, huh?”

You withdrew, meeting his tired eyes with a barely-there twinkle. You smiled at up at him innocently, showing him a tiny space between your thumb and index finger.

“Just a little bit. Just the basics…”

“Uh-huh. The basics. So that’s what? Christmas lights, stockings, mistletoe, a tree?” he mused, his thumb moving to your chin, to your lower lip, brushing it tenderly as you nodded minutely with a smile. His irises lit up a fraction with that image he must have painted in his mind and you felt familiar warmth around your heart at the sight. “I guess we’ll have to talk about getting a tree then. But it sounds nice, babygirl. The mistletoe in particular.”

He proceeded to capture that lips with his, lazy but indulgent kiss that sent pleasant sparkles down your spine and yet made you sleepy as it was soothing, feeling like home.

“Yeah. Sounds nice,” you echoed dreamily, meeting his lips again in a short kiss before nudging him to stand up so you could begin to move to bed.

Only later it occurred to you just how nice you could do with the stuff Steve had mentioned if you tried – and you fell asleep in his arms, a menacing grin that would make Grinch green with envy on your lips.

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Carrying the box after hanging one mistletoe branchlet in the kitchen along with very few fairy lights in the window, you were ready to move onto the bedroom, where Steve was, again, working.

Not for long, you hoped – after all, you put notable effort into your appearance.

With a small smirk on your lips, you knocked on the separating wall, peeking from behind it, trying your best not reveal too much.

Steve didn’t even bother looking up, a semi-loud hum the only sign of him acknowledging your presence.

“I’m gonna decorate this room… you mind me messing around for a bit?” you asked, attempting to sound compassionate about his workload, which you were, and perfectly innocent, which you were not.

That got him eye you briefly, an unconvincing smile passing his lips.

“Sure, go ahead,” he encouraged you softly. He turned his gaze back to the papers on his desk and started writing notes before you could even respond – hence missing your victorious smile.

“Thanks!”

You gleefully walked in, steps soundless against the floor thanks to the thin fabric covering your soles, and placed the box on your own desk.

The rustle of papers and the sudden lack of scribbling sound had you biting your cheek so you wouldn’t burst out laughing.

Steve cleared his throat loudly; when you looked at him over your shoulder however, he went back to reading his damn papers.

You swallowed your disappointment, trying not to think much of it – Steve could be very patient when he wanted to be – or very impulsive. And sometimes, he was both at the same time.

So you pressed your lips together and removed the other branchlet of mistletoe from the top of the box, following with Christmas lights, putting whatever you needed on the desk.

“Sweetheart…” Steve’s voice sounded from his seat, partly amused, partly… hoarse, affected, and you had to bite your lips so the giggles wouldn’t spill out. “What are you wearing?”

You turned to him, making a show of checking your outfit, letting your palms sprawl over your barely covered thighs and slowly moving them up, the hem of Steve’s loose ivory sweater hiking up an inch and revealing the lace of your thigh-high crimson stockings; perhaps even offering a peek of the straps holding them in place due to the garter belt.

“Your old sweater… and stockings,” you offered with a one-shoulder shrug, cool as cucumber in December – or as yourself teasing your loveable boyfriend at the end of November – on the outside, giddy on the inside as his gaze trailed all over your figure, wavering at the lace and the patch of skin on display, before focusing on your face.

“Those-- those weren’t the kind of stockings I had in mind-- when I, uhm, talked about decorating this place,” he explained.

He sounded almost patient, as if it wasn’t clear as day. His irises, however, were not clear – a cloud of desire covered them, turning them a shade darker, hungrier.

It sent a pleasant shiver up your spine, heat pooling in your belly, satisfaction at inching closer to your goal causing your chest nearly puff with pride.

“Oh, my bad!” you exclaimed, chuckling self-depreciatingly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you eyed Steve from under your eyelashes, picture perfect of innocence… not. “Silly me! I’m sorry, I know how much you hate me in stockings…”

“Babygirl…”

His voice resembled a growl, a low warning not to toy with him – which was exactly what you did want to do, teasing him shamelessly when having added emphasis on him not liking your attire.

Stockings and/or his clothes on you got your boyfriend going in fact, sometimes for hours even, thank you very much.

“Yes, Steve?”

“This isn’t going to work, you know. I really have to finish these,” he stated and you most definitely didn’t imagine the impatience and his dislike towards his task sneaking into his voice.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. These are just…” you bit gently on your lower lip, sliding your palms up and down your thighs, Steve’s gaze following the motion instinctively, pupils dilating with the craving to replace your hands with his own, “…comfy, just like your sweater. You never minded when I borrowed it before—you know I love stealing it. It just… it smells like you and it’s warm. It’s like you’re all over me. It’s perfect.”

His glare zeroed on your mouth, slightly accented by a natural, yet visible shade of your lipstick. Steve didn’t say a word, simply staring – and shifting slightly in his seat, much to your glee, which hopefully didn’t show too much – and grumbling an unidentifiable noise.

You felt for him, you truly did – god knew that sometimes, you were overwhelmed with schoolwork too – but that didn’t stop you from smiling at him sweetly now, adding an apologetic tone to your next words.

“Sorry. I talk too much. Don’t let me disturb you. You have work to do and so do I. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

Then you spun on your heels and went back to continue your previous activity, laying out decorations on your desk.

Steve only grunted behind you, but you could hear him as he started going through the papers again, probably trying – and hopefully failing – to ignore your presence.

It wasn’t that you wanted to be mean, there was no single drop of malice in your plan; Steve needed to get his head off his work for a bit, even if he wasn’t aware of it. The way he was overworking himself was beginning to threaten to his sanity.

You simply wanted to help and this was just the way that had crossed your mind first; it was entirely on Steve and his stupidly perfect everything that you couldn’t seem to get your head out of the gutter sometimes when in his presence.

You wished nothing more than for him to turn off his brain… and to relax and enjoy himself.

Clearly, he was enjoying the view indeed.

You caught his sharp inhale when you accidentally dropped a tacky plastic Santa and proceeded to bend over to pick it up… offering Steve a perfect view of your rear and revealing the smart garter belt you wore; with nothing as much as a thong, leaving your most intimate areas bare.

You heard him shuffling in the chair and had to smirk, mentally counting down the time until his resolve broke.

He was holding up quite bravely – nearly long enough to make you doubt your ability to seduce him. Except the shuffle of papers that followed sounded as if he was trying to make a point and you knew that the breaking point was on horizon.

So when the time came to set in motion what you assumed would be the final strike – pushing the chair from your desk to the middle of the room to get ready to put your stockings on display right in his natural line of vision – you delicately took the branchlet of mistletoe with you, climbing up and carefully tying it to the lamp.

Steve’s pen hit the desk with a click and you quickly shot him a glance, meeting his stern and yet rather amused eyes. He sighed at your ridiculously unsubtle antics, but one corner of his lips rose anyway.

“Alright, that’s it. Get down here, you little minx,” he huffed.

Oh, sweet victory.

Mirroring his expression, you retorted cheekily: “Come get me.”

There was no missing the dangerous glint in is eye as he rose to his feet and stalked to your chair, a smirk playing on his lips, every movement purposeful and precise as if he was a predator chasing his prey to the corner.

Your breathing picked up as he neared, your heart pounding, chest heaving quickly – fuck, wasn’t it an erotic sight, Steve’s figure cladded in plain t-shirt and sweats, looking up at you as if he was about to eat you alive.

Maybe it was the expression on his face, somewhere between aroused, amused, cocky and predatory at the same time. Maybe it was the outline of his semi-hard dick on his sweatpants. But shit, you knew you were in trouble, you loved it, and you might have been this close to drooling. You were glad for forgoing underwear, because it would be absolutely useless and soaked through in an instant.

And Steve hadn’t even started yet.

Stopping right in front of you, craning his neck only a bit to face you (the tall bastard), his wide palms sprawled over your calves, their heat warming you from inside out.

An appreciative hum rumbled in his chest as his touch trailed up at torturously slow pace, drinking in the sight of your ragged breaths, indulging in every inch he laid his hands on. You couldn’t withhold the shudder running through your whole body and his grin widened.

“You’re such a fucking tease….” he whispered, licking his lips as his gaze fell lower again, following the movements of his hands, clasping the back of your thighs now, inching toward their inner part, fingers brushing the hem of your stockings.

“Is it-“ You had to clear your throat against the lump that grew there, your body buzzing with anticipation, the smart remark growing heavy on your tongue. “Is it teasing when you can just take what you want?”

He chuckled, a delicious dark sound, bringing more slickness between your legs, much to his apparent satisfaction as he set eyes on his prize.

“Downright naughty…”

His mouth landed softly on the inside of your right calf, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs to nudge them few inches apart to make space for him.

“Does that… uhm, does that mean I won’t be getting any presents from Santa this year?”

You had genuinely no clue how you managed to form a sentence through the fog of arousal around your brain, only growing thicker when Steve’s teeth grazed the skin above your knee, his fingertips brushing an extremely sensitive spot so close to your core.

“You could come down now, be a very good girl and I might put in a good word for you,” he muttered, biting down some more, drawing a mewl from your lips, another one escaping you when he snapped one of the strings holding your stockings in place.

The sharp gentle pain was enough to make words roll off your tongue.

“You think that would work?”

“Oh sweetheart…” Steve chuckled again, a huff of breath warming your thighs, before his eyes, wide-blown and hungry, met yours. “If it doesn’t… you can be damn sure I’m gonna give you fucking everything I have.”

You yelped when his grip on the back of your thighs tightened and he tugged you forward, your hands instantly going to his shoulders to maintain balance as you found yourself with no surface under your feet all of sudden.

He grinned up at you – the show-off, but by God, wasn’t the demonstration of strength setting your body on fire, rendering you speechless – and slowly lowered you to the ground, half-lidded eyes zeroed on your lips. He made damn sure that you felt his erection against your body at all time as he always loosened his grip and tightened it a second later, until your feet touched the ground – and yet you felt your legs shaking, unsteady with the need to feel more of him.

It dawned to you how crazy he managed to drive you, your roles reversed, your plan backfiring. But was it? Backfiring? Because you couldn’t wait to see how it would unfold--

His hands slipped under the sweater you stole from him, one grasping your hip to hold you tight against his body, fingers of the other diving into the pool of slick between your legs, causing you to jerk forward into his hand.

He leaned down to nip at the skin of your neck right under your ear, forefinger circling your clit for a good measure, drawing a needy moan from you.

“And I bet you’re gonna take it…” he hummed into your ear, satisfied smile audible in his hoarse voice, “and thank me for it like the good girl you are.”

You barely forced the words out, heavy with desire but any less true.

“Yes, Professor Rogers. I think I will.”

“Damn right.”

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S.R. masterlist

Attached masterlist

The One Word (next in timeline)

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I really wanted to come up with an original title… and failed. Also, it was supposed to be a drabble, but you know that I tend to babble… and rhyme, apparently.

Thank you for reading and for any kind of feedback :-*

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dayurno · 4 years

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@andrewsrabies and i had a very productive conversation on the kandreil server about catholic au kandreil so here it is the result of my moral obligation to write it as an ex catholic school student

no tws this is just gay as hell. i also might crosspost it on ao3 at some point. so who knows. please be aware this is definitely a little bit blasphemic

the father.

“You will never have him.”

Neil smirks. “Are you talking from your own experience?”

The roof is too windy, too dark — Neil, with his back to Andrew and draped over the ledge, knows just one push would be enough. He doubts he’d ever resist the fall: Palmetto Academy is too lofty of a building to match its even loftier saints.

Yet Andrew does not dare to approach the ledge, and Neil does not turn around to see him. There is no reason to, when both know what they are here for — “He is better than you,” Andrew tonelessly points out, the edge of irritation making something red and ripe unfurl inside Neil, “in every conceivable way.”

“One thing we have in common,” Neil observes, crushing his cigarette against the ledge. “You do not strike me as worthy of Kevin Day, either.” He pauses, then lets his smirk widen. “Not that it stops you, of course. He is the best thing you want. The only, too.”

A heartbeat. Two. Neil would never survive the fall — as he would never survive Kevin. Some choices are easy to make with your head on the line.

“Are you a believer?” Andrew asks, at last, his voice ghosting over Neil’s back. It drips and overflows, patiently waiting to sink Neil beneath the waves, every turn of his tongue vicious.

How can a tongue so cruel be used to kiss someone so good, Neil wonders. Surely Kevin had a taste for poison.

“Oh, am I?” Neil muses, turning ever so slightly. He does not find Andrew — doubted that he would. Andrew is as much of a nothing as Neil is. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

“You will not have him.”

“Why?” he hums. “You won’t let me?”

“I find it useless to repeat myself.”

Neil taps against his wrist watch. “You should know better than to think that that has ever stopped Kevin before.”

“Define that,” Andrew lazily prompts. A challenge.

“Me, being worthless. Another thing the two of us have in common.”

“We,” he viciously hums, “are nothing alike.”

“No,” Neil agrees. A lie, not his first and definitely not his last. “You hate me and I hate you. Let’s see who hates best.”

Andrew’s gaze burns against Neil’s nape. “I do not hate you more than I want Kevin.”

“How sweet of you.”

For one, Neil wants Andrew to be proved wrong: in some twisted way of his, he wants Andrew to hate him as much — or perhaps even more — than he wants Kevin, if only to solidify Neil as a permanent presence in their not-relationship. Hatred, he thinks, is just another form of obsession; almost as intense as desire, but not as contagious.

One thing was true, though: Neil would not leave Palmetto without having felt Kevin Day’s mouth pressing against his, sweet and young and oh so ill-advised. If that meant having to push through the taste of Andrew’s sour tongue, so be it. The sweetness of Kevin was worth it.

Neil taps against his wrist watch again, not bothering to look back at Andrew as he says, “Tick tock, your detention is about to start. I believe you have some daily worshipping to do.”

“Daily worshipping,” Andrew scoffs, but, Neil notices, does not disagree. “Is that what you call it when you imagine it in your head?”

“Oh?” Neil drags out. “How Christian of you to think I have to imagine.”

He cannot see Andrew through the ever-thickening fog of tension surrounding them, but Neil knows the twitch of his eyebrow well enough to build a picture in his head. “You will not have him,” he repeats. His voice is far away now — so ready to leave, Neil muses. For all of Andrew’s so called toughness, Kevin’s mouth must keep him on a tight leash. “Even you, stupid as you are, would know not to touch what is mine.”

Neil turns to look at him, catching only a glimpse of Andrew’s pale hair under the dim lighting of the staircase that leads to the rooftop. He hovers by the doorway — waiting for Neil’s next move. Calculating, even; math Neil barely knows the numbers to. “I will make you no promises we both know I will not keep,” is what Neil hums back, dragging out his words like cheap perfume across a hotel room. “I can touch anything, and Kevin doesn’t seem too opposed to it. Kind God of yours, right? Always thinking of those who have less.”

Andrew does not reply. He slams the door behind him, and Neil is once again alone on the roof.

He lights another cigarette.

Smiles.

Lets it burn.

Rinse and repeat.

the son.

“And then you— Andrew, you’re not listening to me,” Kevin sighs, his upper lip curling into a soft frown under the egg-yellow lights of the detention office.

I believe you have some daily worshipping to do. Andrew Minyard hates everything about Neil Josten, from the sharp tip of his tongue to the dim freckles on his cheeks, but for once he is right — when was the last time Andrew had fulfilled his worshipping duties? Was it last night’s mass, or this morning’s confession?

Either way: it has been too long. A good Christian is always ready to do better, and Andrew has never been one to slack off on divine duty.

“No,” Andrew agrees, because he does not lie to Kevin. Leaning against the edge of the teacher’s table and looking all high and mighty with his primly tucked dress shirt, Kevin looks as if he knows he’s worth gold, or at least as if he needs a reminder. “I am not.”

Kevin’s dark eyebrows furrow. “What has gotten you so distracted that you can’t even listen to me?”

Foolish, foolish man that Kevin is, to think that Andrew has ever thought of anything but him. “You,” he replies, blunt and toneless. “Pretty mouth of yours. I couldn’t hear a thing.”

“Andrew,” Kevin warns, dropping the hands he had just been using to gesticulate.

“Yes?”

“What are you trying to do?”

Andrew feels the corners of his mouth twitching. “Why, complimenting what is mine. I do it all the time.”

Kevin’s mouth closes, cheeks blushing a ripe red. He is too far away for Andrew’s liking, but preamble is Andrew’s only game, and the view is rather pleasant from his spot at the second row of seats. “You,” he slowly says, raking a hand through his hair, “are too much.”

Andrew motions dismissively, leaning back on his chair to take in all of Kevin’s image. “Kevin and his unwavering self-restraint. So good, hm? I like you best when you give up control.”

“You do not like me.”

“Oh,” Andrew muses, smile sharpening, “I like you.”

It makes Kevin roll his eyes, the reply, but it’s quite fond. “I told you that if you want a kiss, you just have to ask for it.”

He hums in acknowledgement, but changes the subject, “Does your God forgive you for what we do?”

“She knows I’m good,” Kevin replies, all warm smiles and deep dimples. “She’ll forgive me.”

Too good, Andrew thinks — too good to have anything to do with someone like him. And yet. “Come here, then,” Andrew beckons, motioning him forward. “Give Her something to forgive you for.”

Kevin’s answer is a huffed out laugh, but he complies: Andrew watches in barely-concealed anticipation as he slides through the first row easily, stopping near Andrew’s seat and gracefully leaning against his desk, keeping some respectful distance between them. “I thought I said come here,” Andrew remarks, resting both of his hands on Kevin’s knees.

Mine, he thinks. And fuck Neil Josten for expecting anything else.

“Lead the way,” is what Kevin says, offering his hands for Andrew to do with them what he wills.

He does. He tugs on Kevin’s hands to bring him into his lap, to which Kevin easily complies, crossing his hands behind Andrew’s nape and offering him a curious look. “You’re angry about something,” Kevin quietly points out, tipping his head to the side.

Andrew’s hands fly to rest over his thighs. “Ran into your friend at the roof just now.”

Kevin mulls that over on his head for a little before guessing, “Neil?”

“Mhm,” Andrew replies, “the very one.”

It doesn’t fluster Kevin — Andrew hadn’t it expected it to —, but it does prompt a pensive look in his eyes. “I suppose it makes sense that you don’t get along. You’re too alike.”

Andrew brushes his lips against Kevin’s, reaching a hand to lightly tug against his tie. “The only thing we have in common,” he says, “is that we both want you.”

Kevin doesn’t look surprised by the new piece of information, but leans in to thoughtfully nibble on Andrew’s lower lip. “Yes,” Kevin agrees, as if he knows the extent of both their devotions — as if he’s not surprised at all by the enormity of their desire. “You do.”

“And you like it,” Andrew points out.

He is silent for a small while, a warm weight on Andrew’s lap. “He asked me for one kiss,” is what Kevin chooses to eventually say, “and one kiss only. Before he gets expelled.”

“And you love a lost cause.” Andrew tucks a strand of hair behind Kevin’s ear. “Will he get his kiss?”

“I won’t let him get expelled,” Kevin answers, nuzzling against Andrew’s palm as painstakingly eager as always. “I’ll strike a deal if needed. He has potential.”

“To what?” he wondered aloud. “He is nothing.”

Kevin frowns. “No one is nothing. Everyone is worth something.”

“Savior complex,” Andrew teases, fitting his palm against Kevin’s jaw and bringing him down. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“One kiss can’t hurt,” he says. Not an answer as much as it is a thought.

Andrew hums, fitting their noses together. “But do you want him?” he asks, brushing his mouth against Kevin’s. “Or do you just like that he wants you?”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“No.”

“Hm,” Kevin says, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

Then leans in.

Andrew forgets what he was talking about.

the holy ghost.

“Have you thought about my offer yet?” Neil asks, perched on top of a bench as he stares over at Kevin, the early morning light brushing through his auburn hair. Palmetto’s garden is paler than it has ever been at Autumn’s peak, but Kevin loves the season — finding Neil on his morning was just a bonus.

Kevin stretches his arms out lazily, feeling Neil’s eyes follow his every movement, before replying, “What can I give you to make you stay?”

Neil smiles, tight-lipped. “I don’t stay, Kevin.”

“Well,” Kevin draws out, supporting himself against the bench Neil is perched on to stretch his right leg. “Then I suppose you don’t want that kiss like you say you do.”

“Oh,” Neil’s smile melts into a lazy smirk, the dark bags under his eyes competing against the brightly lit end of his cigarette. “Oh, you don’t know how bad I want it.”

“Prove it,” is Kevin’s easy reply, his rosary dripping down his chest as he moves to stretch his other leg, Neil’s eyes boring holes through the exposed skin. “Put some effort into staying. Don’t let yourself get expelled.”

Neil mulls it over in his head for a moment, but Kevin is in no rush — this early in the morning they are the only people awake on campus, which means there is no danger of interruption that is not divine.

Good Lord, Kevin quietly thinks to himself, all of my life I have been good. Let me have this.

At last, Neil prompts, “You sure think highly of yourself to believe that one kiss is enough to make a man stay. Aren’t your people supposed to be humble?”

“I’m God-fearing,” Kevin corrects, “not stupid. I see how you look at me.”

“We all have our gods,” Neil hums, turning around to straddle the back of the bench and stare straight into Kevin’s front. “I’m just wondering what I have to do to keep the Goddess on my side.”

“Which Goddess?”

Neil smiles. “You.”

“Stay,” Kevin replies, “and I will be close enough for you to get tired of me.”

“Oh, I don’t reckon I will.”

“Can’t know if you never try.” Kevin bends to stretch his left leg one more time before pulling himself up, now face to face with Neil. “And you still haven’t disagreed with me, so I’m guessing a kiss is enough to make you stay, after all.”

“Hm,” Neil hums, thoughtful, without ever taking his eyes off of Kevin’s face. “It might just be circumstance. You should burn those shorts of yours before the fire of Hell does.”

Kevin tips his head to the side in challenge. “But Andrew likes them so much.”

“I’m sure that he does.” He breathes into the smoke of his cigarette one last time before killing the flame against the bench. At last, Neil concedes, “Keep my interest, Kevin Day, and I’ll stay.”

“You’re interested aplenty already,” Kevin observes as Neil’s eyes dart downwards. “So much so I might have to schedule a session at the confessionary for you.”

Neil swipes his tongue over his teeth like a snake licking venom out of its own fangs. “Why wait? I’ll confess to you now all of my thoughts.”

“I recognize I’m a creature of the divine, Neil, but I’m not fit to be a priest.”

“Of course not,” Neil solemnly agrees. “What would be of that Andrew of yours, if you were?”

Kevin presses his lips together, the memory of Andrew’s bed still fresh against his skin. “He’d be just like you,” is what Kevin limits himself to replying. “Just waiting to get expelled.”

Neil’s mouth spreads in a smile that’s a bit more genuine, not snarky or coy as it usually is, and Kevin offers him a curious glance. “Ah, so the rumors are true: you did straighten him up. Was one kiss enough, I wonder, or was Andrew more expensive to keep?”

“He knew what he would lose if he got expelled,” Kevin replies, “and he made his choice.”

“So you say,” Neil hums. He pushes himself closer to Kevin almost lazily, using his hands to keep himself up at the same time as Kevin leans an elbow against the back of the bench to stare up at Neil, meeting him halfway. “The Catholic church owes you so many converts. You are a Saint among men.”

“It is the men that I often convert,” he chooses to say. “They are easier to lure in.”

Neil chuckles under his breath. “I think Andrew and I are just weaker than the majority,” he observes, then pulls away to light another cigarette. “Go have your run. Burn those shorts when you’re done with it.”

Kevin rolls his eyes, but does what he’s told.

Not the shorts, though — those stayed in his closet.

#kandreil #aftg #aftgfic #kevin day #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #kevineil #kandrew #i had a vision. i had Thoughts. i had them #god this is so gay. im literally religious #anyways. anyways #that catholic guilt hitting DIFFERENT different #my writing

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socialwriter · 4 years

Text

Tell Him

Gif credit to @toesure

Song fic based off of Tell Him (yes this is the glee version pls don’t hate me)

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Female Reader

Summary: Sarah teaches you how to love JJ

TW: Fluff, JJ self doubt, cursing? I can’t remember

1k+ words

A/n: This is v soft. Protect JJ Maybanks at all costs.

You huffed, looking over at Sarah and John B who were openly expressing PDA even with everyone else around them. The love that they had for one another was real, you could see it, and neither were afraid to show it. They were constantly touching each other, encouraging the other to do what their heart desired, and overall just being there for each other when they needed it.

You and JJ, however, had not reached that point in your relationship yet. You both still blushed when the other walked in the room, casual conversation nothing more than incoherent mumblings to anyone listening in. Even though you both had feelings for one another and knew that, you simply had been able to get over your newfound embarrassment so that you both could simply love each other. You gazed longingly at JJ, who was currently preoccupied playing videogames with Pope. Sarah, looking over in your direction, glances between you and JJ, a small frown forming before an idea pops into her head.

---

“We need to talk.” Sarah says, shutting the door to her bedroom behind her. You raise a brow in her direction, chuckling slightly. “Why hello to you too.”

The kook rolls her eyes, grabbing you by the wrist and sitting you down on her bed in front of her. “I see the way you look at JJ. The longing stares, the whimpers that you can only hear if you’re close enough. Listen, I know you guys have only been out on one date, but you gotta take that bull by the horns and ride with it.”

You’re shocked to say the least. You hadn’t realized that you had been that noticeable in your pining for JJ. “Well that’s easy for you to say, you’re in a committed relationship that's almost a year old at this point, you two are comfortable doing almost anything together.” Sarah sighs, expecting that answer. “We weren’t always like that, you know. I used to be like you, not telling John B how I felt, and it was killing me inside. But I’ll tell you one thing girlie, if that guys got into your blood, go out and get him.”

You nod at her statement, albeit a little hesitantly. “I know, I know, and I want to show him how I’m feeling, I just don’t know how.” Sarah smirks at that, throwing her arm around your shoulder. “And that’s where I come in.” For the rest of the time that you stayed over at her house, you and Sarah devised a plan- she was going to teach you how to show your feelings to JJ.

---

The six of you were all currently lounging around on the HMS Pogue, still wet from swimming around in the marsh for the past over. Sarah casually glances over at you and nods, and you know that means it's go time. You walk over to wear JJ is sat, sipping his beer, and intertwine your fingers with his. “I just want you to know that, even though I’m not the best at showing it, I really care about you and enjoy spending time with you.” You whisper so that only he would be able to hear, pressing a soft peck on his cheek. He turns to you, slightly shocked at the sudden burst in confidence you were displaying, his cheeks turning a crimson color that undoubtedly matched the redness of your own. He nodded slowly, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “I know, you know I care about you too right?” He questioned, causing you to nod a little too quickly in response. You shyly smile at the blond boy sat next to you before resting your head on his shoulder, and your smile grows just a little bit bigger when you feel him place a kiss on the top of your head. Sarah watches on from across the boat, a proud smile gracing her lips when she sees just how happy the two of you are together.

---

“That was a great first step Y/n!”

“First step? I thought that that was all you were going to show me? It seemed pretty big to me.” Sarah just giggles at your nervous antics, rolling her eyes in the process. “No silly, I don’t think what you two did could even be considered PDA in some countries.” You huff in response to Sarah’s statement. Her expectations for you were seriously way too high right now. “You’ve started to get intimate in public, but now you take it one step further and do that when its just the two of you.”

---

You and JJ were currently laying side by side on the hammock outside of the chateau, stargazing on the surprisingly clear night. His arm was wrapped around you, and he absentmindedly traced shapes on the bare skin of your arm. Sighing, you snuggle into JJ’s chest, Sarah’s words weighing heavy on your mind. “JJ?” He hums in response, signaling you to continue. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

JJ doesn’t say anything at first, but judging by the fact that the rise and fall of his chest had all but ceased, he had had a pretty strong reaction to your words. “You..you think?” You furrow you brows and sit up, confused by his reaction. “Ok not what I was expecting, way to kill the mood JJ.”

His eyes widen and he scrambles to sit up, placing his hand on your arm. “No, no I um, the feelings are mutual? No, that’s not what I meant to say, I mean I meant it I’m falling in- look, Y/n, I’m not good at this. I’m not good at feeling things. Every good thing I’ve ever had leaves me, so I try not to get attached.” JJ rambles on, causing your eyes to soften. JJ was afraid to love because he was afraid of getting hurt like he had been countless times before. You smile softly at him, brushing back some blond strands of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. “I could never leave you bubba, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger,” you assure him, causing JJ to look you in the eye. He grabbed your hand softly, kissed your palm, and then held your hand close to his chest. “And you have my whole heart, princess.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “You’re so cheesy J,” you muse, causing him to grin and press a chaste kiss to your lips. “And you love me because of it, apparently.”

Tags (i was a dumb dumb and didn’t write down who wanted what taglist the past couple days so I tagged everyone in my Moulin Rouge taglist oops)

@normatural @sarahcxmeron @bricksatanakinswindow @ssjiara @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @the-crackhead-next-door @perfektionsmakel @teamnick @danicarosaline @gracie-jo15 @jjmbanks @meandmymessyminds @keepingupwiththepogues @jjaybank @x-lulu @holypicklelightnickel @girlsru1eboysdroo1

@lefthandwritings

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lacrow · 4 years

Text

Chapter 35...

...mama’s back where she belongs.

It’s been a hell of a day, so I’m gonna mix this analysis up a bit. Gonna be a bit more loose with things, so just bear with me.

There’s just so much to unpack this week I don’t even know where to start. It doesn’t help that I read this earlier in the day as opposed to after I got off work (like I usually do), so all my thoughts have been jumbled up in the best way possible. I’ve had a whole day to just muse over and gush over everything that happened this week, so instead of the usual format I’m just gonna wing and talk about whatever comes to mind.

You just know I had to open up with this. Before I get into all the little stuff, I’d first like to say that I greatly appreciate Endo going the best possible route for this arc. I didn’t think he’d go full-on angst so early in the story, but I was certainly worried of the possibility. On that same note, I didn’t think we’d be treated to the best Forger Family Moments of the whole dang manga this week. I was hoping for some fluff, but boy oh boy, on top of that we got;

The Forger girls keeping papa on his toes

Yor remembering Loid called her pretty (headcanon confirmeddddd)

Franky being best uncle ever

Anya shipping mama and papa hard

And so much more. I could write an essay on everything I loved about this chapter, but I would just be saying what everyone else has already touched on. The moments with Yor and Loid were fantastic, of course. Her drunken breakdown was an all-too familiar one for yours truly (I used to be a bartender lol) and watching Loid scramble to calm his wife was endearingly hilarious. We got a glimmer of what could be when Loid puts two-and-two together for brief second, and I’m glad Endo touched on this in the way that he did.

Even after all his character growth, Loid is still Twilight at the end of the day. (although Yor has a habit of short-circuiting him for at least a fraction of a second before he switches over completely). There isn’t a possibility of true romance between the two of them until Twilight takes a back seat to Loid Forger; everything is still about the mission, even though his family has worn him down significantly since the start of the series. I was honestly a bit disappointed how quickly Loid thought to use Yor’s feelings as part of his schemes, though Yor’s epic high-kick to his face ended any prospect of that real quick. While hilarious, it definitely cemented that neither of them are ready for any sort of admission of feelings and at this point in the story that’s perfectly okay.

And yet...

As @sxfobsessed pointed out (shoutout), Loid sees the same strength, warmth, and comfort of his own mother in Yor. Not only that, but his desire for Anya to grow up with the same sort of love he felt as a child truly speaks to how highly he thinks of her. It also reiterates what he’s been trying to tell Yor the whole time; she’s the only one fit to be Anya’s mom, and by extension his wife.

Part of me believes that Fiona not becoming Mrs. Forger wasn’t a quirk of fate, but rather Loid’s own choice in the matter. Maybe initially it was, but definitely after a certain point there must have come a time when it was feasible for Nightfall to come in and take the role. Loid openly admits she wasn’t fit for it though, both to Franky in the beginning and now to Yor. She isn’t mom material. She doesn’t possess the qualities that Loid associates with a good mom; she wouldn’t be willing to become a beacon of strength for Anya, something that Loid’s mom was to him. She wouldn’t sing her a lullaby or try to comfort her when she was feeling scared. Yor would, and she does. She is her mom.

So where does that leave us now? A reunited Forger house. A couple who knows where they stand, at least for now, and a newly kindled something between them. Where Endo takes things from here I honestly can’t tell, but I think it’s safe to say that the drama of the arc is now behind us...or at least I certainly hope so!

Also, (DOUBLE) BONUS

Firstly, an angry rant (I’m not really angry). See, me and Endo apparently have this thing where, I’ll write a fic, and then a week or two later he ends up putting the same idea in his chapter. On the one hand, I fanboy hard every time. On the other hand, as a writer, it infuriates me to no end because I feel like a damn plagiarist. If you don’t know what I’m referring to, I wrote a story about Yor and Loid confronting the latter’s ex-girlfriend right before chapter 30 dropped, and now the same thing has happened [SPOILERS] with both of my upcoming Spookfest fics. Two different stories, both with material used for this week. I’m just throwing it out there that these stories were done before the update, I swear I’m not taking Endo’s shit lmao

Secondly, I end this analysis with a question; with what position did Yor carry her unconscious husband all the way to the park? My money is on fireman-style, although the thought of her carrying him bridal-style like some sort of cheap romance flick is definitely an entertaining one XD

#spy x family #chapter 35 #spoilers #my edits #yor forger #loid forger #anya forger

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henryobsessed · 4 years

Text

The Borrower and Her Bean

Summery: Melina lives in the wall between two houses with her family. What happens when lockdown is put in place and her Bean (Henry Cavill) is home.

Word Count: 1700

Warnings: Nothing Yet :)

A/N @witcherfan thank you for the request for a Borrower Henry Fic lets see where my brain will take this lol - I just watched the borrowers for the first time yesterday 😜

Picture from Ratgirlstudios's DeviantArt Gallery on pintrest

Part 2

Part 1 –

Melina enjoyed listening to the sounds of the morning, it was her normal waking practice to listen first before she opened her eyes. She could hear sounds of the wind rustling through the blades of grass outside her bedroom. The sounds of the crickets chirping a good morning to each other and the frogs singing their morning tunes. Everything sounded as it should except today there was a new sound, a sound that signalled a change.

She opened her eyes her heart beating faster now that she had heard him, the heavy footfall of the bean that lived in their house. Melina loved their house, in fact, they lived between two wonderful muse houses. There was another family that lived all the way down at the other end of this set of muses but these two were all theirs.

The house to their right was great fun, the beans that lived there had parties all the time. With lots of dancing and loud music that mum and dad were always complaining about. Melina and her brothers loved it. The one thing her mum and dad did not complain about was the food. Because they had so many parties the beans never noticed the missing food. Lots of fruit, cheese, meat pies and salami’s perfect sizes for her father and brothers to bring home. It was a good thing too because the bean who lived on their left was often gone for months at a time. If they had to borrow food from him, they would have starved or would have had to resort to getting food from the other borrowers.

Apart from the lack of food though Melina loved his house. Because it was empty most of the time, they had free reign. Her twin brothers Greg and Carson had worked out how to turn on the bean’s computer and between the two of them had even managed to play one of the beans games. Laughing she thought about the last time the bean had come home. Watching from a hole in the wall she had seen him turn on the computer and go bright red as his game had come on the screen. The boys must have done terribly because he had jumped up and stalked about the room swearing “Bloody hackers, destroying my hours of work. *&^%$ how did they even get past my firewalls” He had spent at least 3 days glued to the machine trying to undo what they had done.

Melina had two favourite things to do when he was not home. He had these statues that he liked to paint, of warriors and monsters. This time while he was away, she had gotten up the courage to paint her own statue, the paintbrushes were small so easy for her to use and sometimes she would paint for hours. There was a little part of herself that hoped that he would like the work she had done even if he never told her directly. Her absolute favourite thing to do was to sit on the windowsill in his bedroom. She could see the whole world from the window and at night if she was feeling really brave, she would sneak up there with a pillow and blanket and fall asleep watching the moon and the twinkling stars in the deep indigo sky.

He was home now so life would change, they would go back to living in the shadows. Only coming out at night and living in fear of being seen. Melina hated this, sometimes she would look up at those stars and wish with all her might that she would change from a borrower to a bean. Then maybe, maybe her heart's desire would come true. You see Melina was 25yrs old, there were no borrowers her age to go courting with. If she was really honest with herself, she would admit that she wanted to be with her bean, but that was the ultimate betrayal of her emotions to want something that could never happen.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she put her feet into the cotton balls that she used for slippers. Stretching her toes, she stood her full 4inch of height. Her room was along the wall that had ventilation to the outside facing the garden. She had chosen this spot because she loved watching the animals play in the grass and often, she would watch her bean playing with his big shaggy friend. She smelled the fresh air and turned looking casually in the pocket mirror her daddy had borrowed for her. She fixed her dark brown hair up into a braid that curled around her head. Smiling as it made her 4 inches just that little bit taller.

She changed into her day dress and walked down the hall to the room they used for a kitchen. She had dawdled this morning and the image that greeted her told her she was late. Everyone was sitting around the dining table, which was a small Jar that Daddy and the boys had scavenged from my bean’s pantry. Mum had made a tablecloth out of a piece of cloth the boys had found by the computer; it was a perfect size and she always laughed at the image of a doggie on it and the words glasses cleaner underneath. She sat on her die seat and grabbed a grape.

A loud pitter-patter could be heard running alongside the wall and sniffing, everyone froze. Daddy put his finger to his mouth admonishing us to be silent. My stomach fluttered as I heard the deep rumbling of my bean “Kal what have you found?” the puppy yipped and continued to sniff at the wall. Fear and hope mingled as Melina heard footsteps come to a halt by our room, as we all stayed silent. My bean’s deep rumble was so close as he praised “Silly puppy, I can’t hear anything, but I might put out some mouse traps ok buddy? Good Job” as both sets of pitter patters and footfalls retreated, we collectively let out our breaths. “That was close” mummy breathed as she mopped her brow with her apron.

Daddy eyed the boys and me, a frown on his face “Looks like he bought his puppy with him so you will all have to be incredibly careful if you venture into the house. I would prefer that you did not go into the house while he’s here, he is never here long, but your adults……. Or at least close to it” he said looking at the twins who had just turned 18. I hated when daddy got strict, I’m an adult granted unmated but still, I should be able to make my own decisions. I glance at my brothers who seem to be also grumbling under their breath. Don’t get me wrong I love my mum and dad, but they are old fashioned, they have lived with the motto that Borrowers should never be seen. That we should be quiet, cautious, brave and inconspicuous. Greg spoke up for all of us, looking for agreement from Carson and myself before saying “ok dad”

I was frustrated, I had been so close to finishing my statue. Instead, I spent the day sitting by my vent writing. I liked writing I could escape into a fantasy world where my dreams could become realty rather than just a thought in my head. As the day sky became dark and the stars came out I itched to sit on my sill. My bean and his puppy should be asleep. After saying goodnight to my family I crept up the brickwork steps to the small hole I had made in the wall under his bedside table. It sat up against his window to provide a perfect way to get to the sill. As I peeked out into the room, I saw his puppy sleeping at the end of my beans bed. I watched for a good 15mins to make sure he was asleep.

The beautiful puppy was a huge black and white animal. Once she heard the tell-tale snore from the bear's mouth she breathed a sigh. She was surprised her bean had not seen her rope hanging from his bedside table it had been there now for the last few years and it never seemed to be found. Gaining her footing she made the steep climb up the side of the table. Reaching the top she paused, listening, watching, her adrenaline pumping so hard she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She slowed her breathing and made the final climb to the sill.

Now she was this high she could see not only the world outside but she could see her bean. He was tucked up under the covers, only his face and his curly hair tussled into a mop on top of is head could be seen.

A gentle snore could be heard from his parted lip letting Melina know that he was in a deep sleep. She watched him for a while, she knew it was wrong but there was something comforting watching this gentle giant. Turning around she settled herself into the crook of the window from here she could see the stars and the moon as well as her bean. Again, she made her wish to the stars, her desire to be loved and to love, her desire for the one she could never have.

As she relaxed, she heard a small whimper coming from the bed. Her bean’s face scrunched up creasing his forehead as more whimpers made their way out of his mouth. Hoping to soothe rather than awaken she moved to the bedside table and hid behind the books he had stacked up ready to read. Softly at first, she began to sing a lilting lullaby. As she sang his whimpers settled down, she continued to sing until she could hear the gentle snore again. Moving back to the window she looked out to the night sky and whispered, “Goodnight Moon, Goodnight Stars watch over us tonight.” Then before she could fall asleep she made the long journey back to the safety of her bed.

I have Tagged people who follow me and who I follow if you want to be removed or added please let me know :)

@keanureevesisbae @darkverrmin @viking-raider @littlefreya@madbaddic7ed @the-soot-sprite @thelastsock @lovetusilver20@crimsonrae @demivampirew @ladyreapermc@henrycavillobsessed @nitannichionne @runawayolives @heartfelt-pen @omgkatinka @star017 @llly113 @sad-ghost-of-garbage @ayamenimthiriel @starstruckkittyangel @lebguardians @summersong69 @notyouraveragemochii @imneonpanda @carriebee1 @ivyfatale @thereisa8ella @lucy930 @sarahmichelle5 @stuckupstucky @cleodoramer @kmuir1 @elliepower @xobriellaxo24 @xxxkatxo @supernovacocorocha @hennerslionhat @xo-mery-ox @waitedforlove743 @ladamari68 @coksy @wickedrum @harleyfranquinn @mysticalstrangerearthquake

#borrowers #little big #henry cavill

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