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dustofthedailylife · 8 months

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How to Steal the Duke's Heart 101

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Pairing: Wriothesley x (gn!) Reader

Summary: The moment your verdict was decided as guilty you were brought to the Fortress of Meropide - despite being innocent. Little did you know that the trip to prison would make you meet the love of your life.

Tags: Fluff, kissing, you're in prison (but innocent), some violence (not graphic), swearing

A/N: Due to me being utterly normal about Wriothesley I had the idea for this fic - who am I kidding I would commit a crime for this man.

“According to the judgment of the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale, the defendant is declared… guilty.”

The voice of Chief Justice Neuvillette was ringing in your ears as he read out the verdict. Your verdict.

You couldn’t believe it. You knew you hadn’t done what you had been accused of, that the eyewitnesses had lied the moment they had opened their mouths, that the evidence had been tampered with, that you had been framed for the crime – but you were innocent. And no one was ever going to believe you.

After all, the device that had handed you the fateful false verdict was treated as infallible in Fontaine. You now at least had proof that its reputation was nothing but hollow words. But what use was the knowledge other than just a bittersweet confirmation for no one but yourself?

And before you knew it, guards were escorting you out the back of the Opera Epiclese in handcuffs. Roughly dragging you along with them into a big elevator. Down – deeper and deeper into the depths of the ocean.

You had heard stories of the Fortress of Meropide before – the secluded place where all criminals and outcasts of Fontaine resided. The place no one had ever come back from to tell the tale. At least not in one piece.

You weren’t sure how you felt on the way down the elevator but you would describe it as something akin to hollowness.

The glances the guards threw your way out of the corner of their eyes literally screamed disgust. You were nothing more than a dirty criminal to them after all – someone who was to be shunned and banished from society for all eternity. And if you really had done what you were convicted for, you wouldn’t even blame them for their disdain.

When the elevator arrived at the bottom the doors opened with a mechanical hiss. The scent of machine oil, iron, and damp moldy cellars immediately pricked at your nose and it was the exact opposite of what you’d call homely.

The guards turned you in at the reception, where a rather unpleasant woman took your mugshots before handing you over to yet another rather unfriendly man who led you even further down into the Fortress.

With every new step you took, you tried to come to terms with the fact that the sight of damp, stone, and ironclad walls as well as the lingering industrial smell was going to be your life from now on.

And the dawning realization of that was painfully pulling a tight rope around your throat. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry and most of all, you wanted to run away and pretend like all of this was a bad dream. But you couldn't.

Instead, you were trodding behind the man who was escorting you and silently began to cry as big beads of tears soon began rolling down your cheeks.

"Crying won't help you anymore, sweetheart." The man remarked almost mockingly as soon as he looked back over his shoulder at your defeated frame. "Should've thought about that before you did some shit."

No. You’re wrong. I'm innocent.

At least that was what you wanted to spit back at him. But it was as if any fierceness or strength to stand up for yourself had left you the moment you set foot into this prison. You simply had no strength left to fight.

You soon arrived in a gigantic circular room. The contraption in the middle almost looked like a giant engine, elevators were going up one level on one side and even further down on the other side of the room. The ceiling was so high up that you almost couldn't make it out at all. The light was dim and the only real light sources were yellow lanterns whose light was bouncing off of the copper-colored iron pipes, crates, and frames that lined the entire room. Gloomy would probably be the best way to describe it.

The pungent smell of oil and damp cellar was hanging in the air here as well and probably even more prominent than it had been before. Only now it was also mixed with what you thought was old sweat and… tea? The smell of the latter seemed oddly out of place and you couldn't make out where exactly it was coming from. All you knew was that it was probably the only pleasant smell you had encountered down here.

Taking the elevator up one level again the man you had been following this entire time led you into a side hallway that looked more like a vent pipe. The dimly lit room that was lying behind it was only furnished with a bunk bed and a barely functioning lantern. He unlocked your handcuffs before roughly shoving you into the room with a smug grin on his face.

"Make yourself at home." He chuckled mockingly before turning around on his heel and leaving while whistling a tune to himself that eerily echoed off the stone walls.

You lay down on the bed, exhaling in defeat. Your throat still felt like someone had painfully tied it shut and tears were dangerously pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Now what?

You had no idea what to do here aside from sitting your time off. Where do you get food? Were you supposed to work and if yes, where do you have to and when?

You closed your eyes as a single tear escaped from the corner of your eyes, rolling down your cheek, dampening the pillow you lay on.

All you heard around you were wet droplets falling from the ceiling onto the wet stone floor, distant voices from down below, and your own breathing. The only thing that drowned these sounds out were the thoughts in your head.

Now that you had a quiet moment to yourself after everything that had gone down today, the realization about your situation was beginning to seep in for good. This bed, these walls, the oily smell… this was going to be the rest of your life now.

And that’s when you broke down and started crying once again.

Eventually, you must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing you knew was waking up to the smell of food wafting through the air vent in front of your room.

You got up from the bed, took the elevator down, and followed the smell. Soon you found yourself standing in front of a Cafeteria, where fellow inmates were queuing for lunch. Or was it dinner? You’ve barely even been here a day, but the distinct lack of daylight already made you lose track of time.

You sighed and walked over, queuing for some food as well. You didn’t have any appetite but you knew you had to eat something and your grumbling stomach was screaming for food, appetite be damned. Much to your dismay, the food needed to be paid for, well, at least the stuff that looked digestible.

You ordered the only free option and sat down with the bowl of grayish, funky-looking liquid whose consistency was more akin to that of wallpaper paste. It didn’t look appetizing, but at least it was free and would prevent you from starving.

Just as you were about to lift the first spoon of gooey pap in your mouth, someone sat down at your table, making you halt your movement for a brief second.

He placed his tray on the table with a loud bang before plopping down on the bench right in front of you. His food looked tremendously more high quality than yours. Your mouth began watering from just looking at it. Freshly made roast potatoes with rosemary, fluffy pieces of baguette with salted butter, a big juicy piece of meat – grilled to perfection, and a glass of mousse au chocolat.

He leaned forward, supporting himself on the table with his elbows, folded his hands and intensely looked at you with his piercing blue eyes. It seemed like he wasn’t in a hurry to start eating any time soon.

You pretended to ignore him and began eating. The soup, which could vaguely be identified as lentil soup, left a slimy feeling on your tongue and tasted completely bland. Every fiber of your body told you to spit it back out again but with enough willpower, you actually managed to swallow it. Not without pulling a grimace first though.

“You’re new here.” The stranger in front of you observed with curiosity.

You looked up at him, nodding slowly shoveling another spoonful of goo in your mouth before going back to ignoring him. You weren’t really interested in trying to make connections here. All you wanted was to get out of here again – even though you knew deep down that the likelihood of that was nearing zero.

“Adapting well?” He inquired, still not in a hurry to touch his food.

You suspiciously looked up at him. There was just something about this guy that was off. He didn’t quite fit in here at all. He was admittedly very handsome. He looked well groomed and his attire was way too pompous to be an inmate - or maybe he was some rich guy who got some sort of special treatment down here. Every other inmate was avoiding your table and people looked at him with an almost reverent look in their eyes. If it wasn’t for the scars that seemed to cover the majority of his body already, this just further confirmed your gut feeling to avoid this guy at all costs in the future.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He chuckled, eyeing you further with a smirk plastered on his lips.

“What do you want?” You asked, now slightly annoyed.

“Just trying to strike up some friendly conversation. You know, seeing how lost you were while ordering food, not knowing about tickets, and just dashing around like a scared blubberbeast, led me to believe that no one gave you a rundown of how this place works. So, allow me?” He remarked with that same smirk.

When you wordlessly motioned for him to continue, he began explaining the workings and rules down here in detail. Unspoken rules, general rules, what and who to avoid, how jobs worked, work times, payment and money, general daily schedule, and a lot more. There was simply so much you were beginning to feel lightheaded as soon as he had finished speaking and you could feel the lump in your throat grow in size with every minute that passed. You would never be able to live here.

“That should about cover the basics.” He finished explaining as you swallowed thickly.

You opened your mouth in order to speak but he swiftly lifted his finger to shut you up.

“No need to say anything. I know it’s not easy to adapt to a new environment. Especially not one you feel trapped in. But that feeling will fade eventually. Trust me.” He threw you a genuine smile before lifting himself up from the bench and pushing his tray with the food in your direction, pointing at it with an offering gesture.

“Welcome to the Fortress of Meropide.” He said, before striding away.

“Wait-” You jumped up from the table causing him to halt in his tracks and turn around once more. “What’s your name?”

“Wriothesley.”

After this strange encounter with the mysterious and admittedly attractive man, you didn’t see him around for a long while. This came as a surprise because you’d assume someone with his looks and attire would stick out like a sore thumb wherever he went. But it was as if the ground itself had swallowed him.

You wanted to see him again, mostly because you thought you could learn from him for your life down here. And despite your gut telling you that he was a walking red flag you had developed a strange curiosity for him.

You had begun working at the ship dockyard where a big window was offering a view into the ocean. You could somewhat make out the sky and time of day from there and it was the only thing that kept you from going completely insane in here. All you had done was sleep, work, eat, and repeat since you came here. Some people had tried speaking to you and some asked what you were here for, but you didn’t have any interest in conversing with them – especially not after you had tried telling someone that you were innocent and they had just laughed at you. Needless to say, you had no desire to connect with people – although he was the only exception seeing as you were craving to talk to him again, as much as you tried to deny it.

Today you were working at the docks again and found yourself longingly staring out of the large window. Your mind drifted off and you wondered how it would feel to simply swim back up to the surface where your lost freedom lay.

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” A familiar voice reached your ears from behind.

“Wriothesley!”

The man in question walked up to you and came to a halt right next to you. He looked out through the window himself before looking at you from the corner of his eyes with a slight smirk.

“Still longing for the surface?” He inquired, crossing his arms over his chest. “It never fully goes away but once you get used to the Fortress you’ll find yourself unable to want to leave.”

“Is that so?” You ushered quietly, scoffing. You were simply unable to believe him, not when your freedom had been taken unjustifiably.

“Thank you for the food the other day, by the way. I didn’t have a chance to thank you yet.” You attempted to divert the topic.

“Don’t mention it.” He waved dit off with an unwavering smile. “It is almost time for lunch, have you eaten yet? We could head to the Cafeteria together. My treat.”

“Oh, you absolutely don’t have to, I have enough credits for food now that–”

“Please. I insist.”

And so you found yourself sitting at the table with Wriothesley again, with the most exquisite meal that tickets could buy down here.

You were surprised he was able to fork over nearly four thousand credits to buy the meals as if they were nothing. And especially since he treated you to such a meal as well, while everyone else down here held onto their credits as if their life depended on it. And of course, you also didn’t miss the stares of the others again when you sat down with your fancy meal.

You carefully eyed the food and then Wriothesley as if you didn’t deserve to be treated to something like this. He looked back at you with a genuine smile as he continued nibbling on his baguette.

“Anything wrong?” He asked with curiosity.

“No. It’s just… why–?”

“Why am I treating you to something?” He raised an eyebrow in amusement as if he had read your thoughts. You nodded slowly in reply.

“You’re interesting. That’s all there is to it.” He admitted with a smirk.

“I’m interesting? Me?” You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “You say that when you’re the one I could say that about. You don’t look like you fit in here at all, you have a truckload of credits to spend, and everyone here looks at you like you own the place.”

You paused for a second, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’ve been here for a long time already, haven’t you?”

“You… could say that, yeah.” He replied with a chuckle, dipping his baguette into the rich sauce on his plate.

“Why are you here?” You continued prying.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He replied with a smug grin before he continued eating.

You couldn’t quite decide if he was a red flag you should run as far away from as possible or if you wanted to get to know him closer. But either way, your first priority for now was not letting the food go to waste so you began eating the heavenly-tasting meal.

A silence settled between you two that was surprisingly pleasant as you both quietly ate with the occasional glace thrown at each other.

Once you were both done he took your tray with him to put it into the tray cart before turning back around with a smile.

“Same time tomorrow?” He asked.

“U-uh… yeah, sure. I don’t see why not.” You stammered a bit taken aback, still confused as to why he wanted to hang out with you so much. You were a nobody with nothing to your name – not even a criminal record technically.

“Great. See you tomorrow then.”

And with that, a habit would slowly form. You would meet up for lunch each day and not long after, also for dinner. He often picked you up at the docks and bought a meal for you and only sometimes you were able to deter him from doing so and insisted that you bought your own since you were genuinely beginning to feel bad even if he seemed well off.

You sometimes sat down for a long time talking even after you both had finished eating. You chatted just about anything and as it would turn out you two seemed to share similar interests. You found out he really loved tea and had extensive knowledge in that regard. And it just so happened that you too were a fellow tea aficionado. Not only that though, you two shared a similar taste in music, books, food, and more. After a couple of weeks had gone by it felt like you had already been friends for the longest time. And much to your surprise, not once had he attempted to ask you why you were here or pried into your private life.

On another such day, you were just heading out of the dormitories towards the Cafeteria to meet up with him. But before you could arrive there someone forcefully yanked you behind some iron crates. You crashed against them with the back of your head with a loud bang, momentarily losing consciousness as pain shot through your system.

"What kinda big shot are ya, huh? What're ya sitting for?" A man yelled at you aggressively.

As soon as you got a grasp of your surroundings again, even though now extremely dizzy, you saw a big bulky guy with a missing front tooth who was pinning you against the boxes by your throat with an iron grip. He was accompanied by two other, less muscular guys who were staring at you in the same aggressive manner. His lackeys, you assumed.

"I have- I have no idea… what you're talking about." You struggled the words out due to the applied pressure on your vocal cords.

"What're ya here for, asshole?!" The man yelled at you even louder now, a few beads of spit flying right into your face through his tooth gap.

"I… I didn't do anything. I–" You gasped breathlessly as you clutched your hands around the hand around your throat, trying to alleviate some of the pressure being applied to it.

"Bullshit! You don't land here for twiddlin’ ya thumbs counterclockwise. And if the Duke's got the eye on ya already, ya've to be some VIP or some shit!" The toothless man spit on the ground between your feet.

“Duke?” You asked confusedly.

“Tch, don’t fuck with me here, shut ya trap. Now, tell me. What’ve ya done? Be honest or I might’ve’ta polish your visage a lil’.” He viciously cackled in unison with his two lackeys who were cheering on him.

“I didn’t. Do. Anything.” You bit back through clenched teeth, putting a strong emphasis on each word. And before you were able to react, a stinging pain shot through your system as a fist connected with your face, sending your head flying back against the crate once again.

You immediately began to see stars and could feel your consciousness quickly fade away. The ringing in your ears and the accompanying dizziness from the impact was overbearing everything and all you could make out before you passed out was a flash of white light and pleas for mercy. Then everything faded to black.

The next thing you knew was waking up with a bandage around your head and an intense migraine. You felt like a horde of boars had trampled over you. The omnipresent pain got worse when you instinctively tried to sit up on the bed you found yourself on.

You hissed in pain and immediately felt a pair of big hands push you back into the fluffy bedding.

“Stay.”

You recognized this voice. You had heard it so often in the past couple of weeks that, despite your delirious state, you had no issue placing it.

“Wriothesley.” You uttered weakly with your eyes still closed.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m here.”

He took hold of your hand with a reassuring squeeze and the feeling of his warmth on your skin made you feel tingly all over and the all-present pain immediately felt like it was being alleviated ever so slightly. Out of all people you were glad it was him by your side.

“What? Where?” You rasped, attempting to slowly open your eyes.

“We’re in a separate room at the Fortress Infirmary. Someone roughed you up real good and you fell unconscious. I arrived just in time to prevent worse. You’ll probably have a nasty bruise on your face for a while and you’ve got quite the concussion as well as a cracked rib. But nothing some bed rest and a good cup of tea wouldn’t be able to fix, hm?” He tried to reassure, brushing a strand of hair out of your forehead.

"Your Grace, here is the medicine you asked for." A guard suddenly came rushing into the infirmary with a small satchel that he handed to Wriothesley before quickly leaving again after a courteous bow towards the man by your side.

You furrowed your brows in confusion at the display of submissiveness of the guard towards a fellow prisoner when you've been treated with nothing but disdain and… wait a minute.

Your Grace. The looks he got from the others during lunch and dinner time. The Duke. It's him?!

The memories suddenly came rushing back to you – how you had been slammed into the metal crates, how the toothless man had mentioned the Duke while threatening you and how his fist had then ultimately painfully kissed your face.

You didn't have all the puzzle pieces to connect everything into a clear image yet but it was enough to feel that there was an epiphany just mere millimeters out of your range.

You startled and sat up on the bed with wide-blown eyes once more as pain shot through you again from the abrupt movement. Pain so bad you thought you would have to throw up for a second.

"I-I… your Grace? The Duke? It's you! He meant you and– who? W-what?! I-I– he threatened me and I-I'm innocent. I don't belong here I–I'm innocent–" You incoherently stammered nonsense because your mouth couldn't match up with the speed at which your thoughts were racing.

Just who was he?

But before you got to properly ask that question a pair of soft lips gently connected with yours, rendering you speechless and cutting off the words that were spilling from your mouth relentlessly like water from a leaky faucet. He squeezed your hand a little tighter while the other gently found comfort on your cheek. Cradling it so carefully as if you're the finest piece of porcelain in the world and could break any minute.

The gentleness of his touch, the warmness of his lips, and the smell of Earl Grey on his breath made your body explode into a sea of fireworks. It wasn't until this moment that you realized you had developed feelings for Wriothesley that went beyond the casual acquaintance you met up with after work for food in the prison cafeteria. It was just that you had been too occupied and lost in your own thoughts about your predicament to realize it.

Your curiosity and cravings to see him more and more often weren’t just born from a place of loneliness. Your heart had craved for him all this time.

Your hands found comfort in his hair as you leaned into the kiss more, prying a low chuckle out of him and you felt him smirk against your lips.

"I know you are." He whispered against your lips when he separated from you again.

"What?" You asked in confusion, already forgetting what he was replying to.

"That you're innocent."

"N-no I don't mean just in this case… I didn't commit any crimes I was sent here despite being innocent I-"

You didn't even realize you had started crying until he gently wiped a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"I know." He reiterated firmly.

You looked up in his face and his eyes were filled with nothing but sincerity. He must be the first person you ever encountered who didn't see the sentence of the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale as infallible and unquestionable.

"How?" You quietly breathed out in disbelief.

"I knew it on the first day I saw you. My beliefs were just further confirmed when I talked to you for the first time. I've been working behind the scenes to get you out of here again ever since." He admitted, wiping another stray tear from your cheek.

That's why he was gone for days after your first meeting and suddenly arrived again behind you at the docks.

"You went above ground?" You rasped, making the question of who he actually is even bigger.

He nodded, taking your hands in his and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

Is that why he also said you would find out who he is soon enough that one day? But you still didn't know… who actually is he?

"How are you allowed to go out? Who are you?"

"You still didn't figure it out?" He smirked. "I'm Wriothesley. Warden of the Fortress of Meropide."

And at that moment everything fell like scales from your eyes.

His attire, the looks of other prisoners, the abundance of tickets to spend, randomly disappearing for days, the Duke… the Cryo Vision dangling from his shoulder despite not being allowed to carry any in here.

He was the one who saved you earlier.

He must've noticed your glance because he squeezed your hands a little tighter and reassured you: "They won't ever bother you again. I took care of it."

You didn't dare ask what he meant by that and simply nodded in acceptance.

"I can also tell you that things are going well. I pulled some strings and you might be out of here by the end of the week again with no criminal record to your name."

But what if you actually didn't want to leave anymore? At least not without him.

"Will I be able to see you again?"

A question that spilled out of your mouth before you could properly think about it. But the deafening silence that followed told you everything you needed to know. He rarely left the underground and was occupied down here most of the time so the possibility of you and him seeing each other again was low.

"Certainly." He replied after a while avoiding looking into your eyes.

A white lie. He wanted you to return to your old life again, out of the confines of this prison you had unjustifiably been thrown in. He didn't want to keep you here only for the selfish desires of his heart that he had unplannedly given to you along the way. Maybe he would find a way to be with you once you returned, maybe he didn't – But that didn't mean he couldn't indulge in what you had for the remaining time you were here with him.

And that's when he pulled you closer once more, one hand resting on your waist, gently massaging your skin through the fabric of your shirt while reuniting your lips as if it was the last thing he would ever get to taste.

And maybe, if it was what it took to see him again, you wouldn't mind actually committing a crime.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#genshin impact #astronetwrk #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x y/n #genshin fluff #genshin wriothesley #genshin x y/n #genshin impact fanfic #genshin drabbles #genshin scenarios #genshin brainrot #genshin headcanons #🍁 dust writes #🍁彡 gi

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magicalmanhattanproject · 5 months

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man im just like. thinking about egg signs and how they've evolved over the course of the qsmp and how the qsmp has evolved over the course of the qsmp and just feeling so much love and affection for every part of the project. i dont have any grand overarching point with this just. like. here's a history of egg comms bc of the kind of person that i am

so wayyyy back ten months ago now at the start of the short and sweet egg event that was planned to last maybe a month at most, the eggs had their own custom, decorated signs!

[ID: Leo with a pink sign with an egg on the bottom corner that reads "hello" in all caps. Her nametag reads Leonardo. End ID]

They were extremely simple, single word signs. There was hello, hola, story, feed, sleep, and maybe one or two more and each was its own separate sign. The eggs could only communicate the most basic needs in words and everything else was through minecraft body language or just hoping their parents guessed right.

But obviously, there was a lot more that parents wanted to hear from their children. I'm not sure who was actually first, but the earliest departure from this system I know about is BadBoyHalo giving Dapper a simple oak sign so he could name his pet slime. (Screenshot from @/lxrd-ren)

[ID: Dapper wearing a diver's helmet standing next to a tiny slime in a boat with an oak sign reading "Bouncy (slmecicle but better)" End ID]

Parents quickly realized how much more convenient this was and pretty soon every single egg had stacks of signs to communicate with.

The next innovation came from Vegetta, who was the resident mod knower at the time. He knew about colored canvas signs and gave Leo signs in her favorite color purple because he loved her and gave her everything she wanted.

[ID: Leo's bed in her room under some Fooligetta fanart with a purple sign reading "<3" End ID]

Colored signs obviously had a lot of advantages. Being able to tell at a glance which egg placed which sign was a huge step forward in eggs being able to have long, complicated conversations as well as leaving obvious marks of their personality everywhere they went. It took a little while for them to be standard for every egg though. Bobby never stopped using oak signs even after Richas and Pomme both showed up with colored signs.

[ID: Two signs reading from right to left a red Pomme sign reading "we already started working on a guillotine factory" and a dark grey Dapper sign reading "thats the most french u have said so far pomme" End ID]

And this was the system for a while! And it worked pretty well for most people! The biggest struggle most people had was egg signs not being translated, but streamers adjusted to that by reading signs out loud so the translators would pick up on them. This also lead to adorable and fascinating dynamics like Richas swearing in signs he wrote for Bad and then warning Bad not to read them out. There was also the genuinely phenomenal development of Leolingo where Leo writes only in Spanish to Foolish because it's easier for her to write and he takes his time to puzzle his way through it and learn in a way that's super cool to watch someone else do onscreen.

Then Tubbo joined the server. And Tubbo himself had no problems at all with the system, but he is dyslexic and he casually mentioned offhand that it was getting kind of annoying to read signs after a ten hour long stream and the admin team Fucking Cooked.

Within 24 hours, they had TTS working on the signs. Within 48 hours, it was working on books too. I can't remember how long it took to get translation working, but it was definitely under a week.

And this opened up a whole new world of possibilities for the entire QSMP. The admin team has been on top of capitalizing on it for story purposes, but also just allowing the egg admins to speak in their native languages to everyone whenever they want has been so enriching for everyone involved. Leolingo is awesome but Foolish has been learning Spanish insanely fast and his process is a lot slower and more frustrating than most people can do in front of an audience of thousands of people without feeling discouraged. That's also one language. We've had everything from Foolish being able to check his work a bit more faster to Phil insisting on his eggs taking a day to speak to him in their native languages to Ramón writing a book for Fit in Cantonese, a language we haven't even seen on the server in any other context!

And all of it is fully understood and fully communicated! Sometimes the translators mess up but no one expects them to be perfect and people ask for clarification if the translator says something that doesn't sound right. It's not only a massive step forward in communication technology, but it's a great demonstration of how to use it and when you can and can't rely on it.

And finally, the most recent innovation! One of BBH's viewers sent him a dono saying they had trouble reading certain signs because they were too low-contrast. Bad, Richas, and Pomme just. Took it upon themselves to fix the problem right there and then. Based on One (1) bringing up their own personal struggle, those three came up with new signs that innovate tremendously on the originals.

[ID: Two separate images of the before and after. The first is the egg signs in their original colors with the corresponding egg's name written on them to demonstrate the font color and the second is in the new, higher contrast colors with the same text. The new signs also have custom decorations for each egg. The second picture also has two signs from Pomme in all caps that read "Send all the love to Richas he spent a whole night making this he's the best <3" End ID]

There are three main innovations visible in the above pictures

1: Obviously, the colors are higher contrast. The signs with white text have darker colors and the signs with black text have lighter colors.

2: The colors themselves are lower saturation. Richas said this made it easier for him personally to read them so he corrected that way, but that's open to change if it causes difficulties for more people than it helps

3: The decorations are for accessibility reasons! People with various different forms of colorblindness will find different sets of colors easier or harder to distinguish, but any of them can look at the decorations and use them to identify whose sign is whose instead.

But! Those innovations are not why I made this post! It's these ones!

[ID: The backs of the new signs when placed on the ground. Most visible are Chayanne's with vines and a hardcore heart, Sunny's with shining sunglasses, and Pomme's with an apple and the Eiffel Tower. End ID]

Richas added distinguishing marks to the backs of the signs too! This is something that Bad brought up specifically as something he wanted because it was hard for him to tell who was talking when he was using TTS from behind signs and couldn't see the colors at all.

We went from custom egg signs (a hotbar or so of words and nothing else to communicate with) through a long journey of expanding communication and expanding who we're bringing along on the communication and how easily they can join in and we've circled all the way back around to custom egg signs (they can say anything they want in any language they want and anyone will know it's them saying it from any angle)

and i guess i have enough feelings abotu that to write All This about it

#sorrelposting #qsmp

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wolken-himmel · 11 months

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In which Floyd's transformation potion wears off, causing him to be stuck in his eel-merman form in a large tank.

Now (Y/n) has to entertain him.

Request by anon.

You had always admired the Mostro Lounge's interior design. Large tanks that lined the walls, some that connected to the vast ocean outside the building and allowed little fish and other creatures to pass through. You used to spend a lot of time watching all these adorable and innocent creatures swim past the glass facade. But now, all of them had been chased away by a vicious predator.

Floyd.

You exhaled and watched as he terrorised the last remaining guppies until they fled the tank. The large eel-merman was left alone in the tank, now bored out of his mind. There were no more little fish to torment. So he turned to you, who stood outside the tank and watched him swim around. He flashed his teeth at you, you poor little fish.

"Shrimpy!" he cried out once his head penetrated the surface of the tank. His arms were resting on the upper edge of the tank, the water from his skin dripping to the ground. He shot you a sly smile. "Come a little closer. I don't bite."

You wrapped your arms around yourself, making sure your blazer was still dry. Despite his pressing gaze, you didn't move a centimetre. "I don't wanna get wet. You splashed Azul when he gave you your lunch earlier."

Floyd let out a groan at your reply. "Shrimpy, don't be such a guppy!"

His words caused you to quirk an eyebrow. "I'm not a guppy. I have good reasons not to trust you," you said, a tad bit of playfulness lingering in your voice. You chortled softly, knowing better than to come closer to him.

"What?! I'm as innocent as those little spikeballs from the Heartslabyul garden, the ones you like to cuddle! I deserve appreciation too, don't I?" the merman whined, as if your words had offended him. He pulled his arms away from the ledge of the tank and sank to the bottom of the tank, so he could face you properly. His long tail curled around the floor as he glared at you, the glass wall being the only thing separating you two.

You shrugged softly. "Who says you won't pull me into that tank if I get closer."

"I would never. I swear on Jade."

His words drew loud laughter from your lips. You almost doubled over from how intense the wheezes were that shook your body. "You'd swear on your own brother?" you asked and held your stomach in pain. As your laughter faded out into chuckles, you gazed around the empty Mostro Lounge. "I hope he didn't hear that..."

Floyd chuckled along, but his laughter quickly turned into grumbles of annoyance again. "Come on, Shrimpy. I'm bored!" he complained again and swam circles in his tank. It was large enough to allow for vast movement, but it was empty of any entertainment. "I wanna walk again, poke your side and annoy you."

You chuckled and crossed your arms. "Yeah, you're a real menace. Maybe it's good you're stuck in that tank for a few hours," you teased him. Unable to help yourself, you stuck your tongue out at him.

Floyd clutched his chest dramatically and sank to the bottom of the tank, where he remained motionlessly. "Shrimpy, you're so mean to me..."

Laughter spilled from your lips, and you couldn't help but tap your finger nail against the glass wall. "Stop it, Floyd. You're so dramatic."

"You're breaking my heart..." the eel-merman whined before regaining life again. At the speed of light, he shot up from the ground of the tank and zoomed off into a dark corner.

You brought your face closer to the glass, your eyes scanning the vast tank. The back was littered with large stones and tall kelp plants. Even though his tail was long, he somehow managed to easily hide amongst the flora of the tank. A worried feeling made itself apparent in your stomach. "Floyd? Where are you? Come out again," you yelled out nervously.

Did your playful banter go too far? Did you actually manage to insult him.

Your head began to spin with thoughts of how hurt he must feel. Feeling awful, you desperately searched for any sign of life from him. But your eyes never managed to see past the plants and rocks in the tank. He was nowhere to be found.

With each passing minute of your fruitless search, guilt and dread weighed down your conscience. You began to feel bad about what you had said to him. Any attempt of calling out to him was met with awful silence. With Floyd gone, the empty Mostro Lounge became eerie and lifeless.

Your guilt got the better of you, and you climbed up the ladder that led to the upper ledge of the tank. Your eyes scanned the crystal clear water, but even from up there, you couldn't manage to find him amongst the kelp. With your hands tightly gripping onto the ledge, you leaned over the tank.

"Floyd... I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said," you murmured softly. "Please come out again. I'm worried about you..."

You're met with silence again. He still seemed too hurt to reply you. Or that's what you thought at least. With all the feelings of guilt that plagued you, you didn't notice the threatening shadow that approached you from below. Your torse continued to lean over the ledge, desperately trying to find your friend in the tank.

That was until a webbed hand shot out from the water and grabbed your arm. A scream escaped your lips as you were pulled into the tank with ease. Your body toppled over the ledge and plunged into the water. Strong limbs and an even stronger tail constricted most of your panicked movement.

Your clothes felt heavy and your eyes burnt as you were finally able to open them. You came face to face with a mischievously grinning Floyd. He held you tightly, but making sure your head remained above the water. An unsettling giggle escaped his lips. "I never was mad at you. I just needed you to feel guilty and come closer to the tank so I could pull you in."

You glared at him, but your anger was only half-hearted. "You sly eel..."

Your struggling is met with carefree laughter from his side. "That's what we're known as. Smart, sly and slippery!" he exclaimed smugly and swam around the tank with you. A bright smile was plastered onto his face, akin to that of a child that had just received a present.

"I should have known this was just another one of your ploys," you murmured in dismay.

Floyd pressed you against him until you could only wheeze out your complaints. "You're like a rubber duck! So easily squeezable and cute," he cooed playfully.

"Hey, let me go!" you cried out with red cheeks.

His laughter turned louder, until it filled the entirety of the Mostro Lounge. "Sorry, no can do, Shrimpy. You're my little rubber ducky until I get my transformation potion."

"Azul! Hurry up with the potion!" you yelled out at the top of your lungs.

Before you could say more, Floyd pulled you underwater to shut you up. After a few seconds of having his fun, he pulled you up again. A giggle escaped his lips at your disoriented state. He merely soothed your strangled whines by pulling you closer, his arms circling around your waist.

An eerie smile decorated his face as he patted your head. "Oh, he can take his time. I don't mind...."

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #reader insert #y/n #disney twst #twst x you #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader #twst floyd #twst floyd leech #twst floyd x reader #twisted wonderland floyd #gender neutral reader

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yourgothiccqueen · 2 months

Text

LN4 - “Formula One Sucks”

Summary: A grumpy reader meets her match.

Parings : Lando Norris x Female Reader

Warnings: none except swearing - fluff and silliness!

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

Masterlist

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“I think just don’t give a shit about it!”

“That’s because you’re a boring cow!”

Y/N sat crossed legged on the grass outside her tent, sun beating down on her face as she half heartedly sipped on a capri sun. Spending the night lying on the floor had left her aching and exhausted, and she feared spending the day watching ‘cars go round in circles’ would truly tip her over the edge.

“I just don’t get why I had to come.” Y/N groaned. “You know loads of other people.”

“None of whom were free at short notice on a Sunday!” Y/N’s friend Annie exclaimed.

Y/N groaned dramatically. She was already hating the fact that she was going to be spending the day trying to shelter from the heat whilst pushing her way through crowds of obsessive fans.

“It’s the three things I hate the most - cars, people and outside.”

“Oh shush, you had to come because you’re such a joyous, positive influence in my life who I knew would jump at the opportunity!” Annie said, sarcastically. “Now stop being so bloody miserable.”

Y/N scowled and playfully swatted Annie on the leg.

“You’re a bitch, you know that?”

“I know. Now drink your capri sun and cheer the fuck up.”

—————————————————————-

By 12pm Y/N had not, in fact, cheered the fuck up. She was truly finished with the world of formula one. So far she had queued for the loo, listened to some very loud music and spent an extortionate amount of money on a relatively small (and cold) hot dog.

Annie had long disappeared, claiming to have spotted some guy called ‘Fernando’ before rushing off into the crowd with a squeal, promising to meet Y/N at their seats later on.

It was beginning to get all too much for little Y/N L/N (😉) as she made her way throughout the bustle of people, eager to finally find someplace quiet to eat.

Eventually she found herself going through a set of doors (which definitely did not say staff only) as she found herself a quiet corner.

“Perfect.”

Before she could even take a bite, she heard a cough from behind her.

“Ermmm, what are you doing?”

Turning around, Y/N found herself faced with a relatively young man, wearing an orange cap with curls of brown peeking out the bottom. He looked strangely familiar, but Y/N couldn’t put her finger on it, and quite frankly she was too hangry to care.

“I’m eating my hot dog.”

The man smirked and let out a small laugh.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Y/N shrugged and said “ask stupid questions, get stupid answers” before taking a bite.

The man raised an eyebrow slightly, intrigued by the passive aggressive woman in front of him, who seemingly didn’t know who he was.

“Are you here for the race? Or do you work here?” He questioned.

“I’m here for the race. Are you?”

The curly haired man smirked slightly, letting out a little laugh.

“Yeah, I suppose you could say that.”

Y/N crammed another bite of hot dog into her mouth “Well, enjoy. It’s all a load of crap if you ask me though.”

A look of intrigue on his face, he asked “what makes you say that?”

“It’s just boring!” Y/N exclaimed. “Car goes zoom, someone wins, hurrah - so bloody what?! What’s the point?”

The man looked back at her, a look of mild bewilderment and irration written across his face.

“Well yeah, the car is one aspect of it, sure. But it’s the drivers that bring that passion, that excitement every week. They’re the ones who shake things up and keep things fresh. They’re the ones who make it worth watching.” The man let out a small cough. “I mean, that’s my opinion anyway.”

“Hmm. So which driver should I look out for today then?” Y/N queried.

The curly haired man shot her a questionable look.

“Don’t you know the names of any of the drivers?”

Y/N shrugged “I know Lewis Hamilton.”

He let out a laugh and another smirk again “well, that’s a start I suppose.”

Y/N was getting sick of this man smirking at her. But then again, it was a very nice smirk. And he did seem like a very nice man.

“So, what are you doing here if you hate formula one?” The man queried, arms folded against his chest.

“My friend’s a big fan, and her boyfriend who was was meant to be coming has got the flu.” Y/N sighed. “As much as I hate being here, I’d feel even shitter if she came on her own.”

The man let out a small smile “Well, that’s nice of you to do that for your friend.”

He suddenly glanced down at Y/N’s lips, and appeared to take a step closer.

Was this mysterious, attractive stranger about to kiss her?

His thumb reached up to her chin and she couldn’t help but look up into his eyes.

God he had beautiful eyes.

She felt his thumb touch her skin with the gentlest of touches, and her eyes fluttered shut.

He smelt *heavenly*. What aftershave was he wearing?

“Sorry, you had some ketchup on your chin.” He let out a soft giggle.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, and she felt herself return to reality.

“Oh!”

The mystery man let out a giggle as his thumb brushed against her chin - “all gone.”

She laughed. “Thank you. It’s not everyday a stranger wipes ketchup off your face. Did we just get to second base?”

The man let out a laugh (it’s a very nice laugh).

“Sure. I’ll count it if you do.”

An urgent shout sounded from a door behind them.

“I’ve got to go. It was nice chatting to you though.” The man stated. “And to answer your question, look out for Lando Norris today. I’ve heard he’s one to watch!”

“Will do.” Y/N called, still slightly stunned from the interaction.

A few moments passed before a security clad gentlemen rounded the corner.

“Oi, you shouldn’t be back here! Get back out the front!”

“Relax - I’ve finished my hot dog, I’m going!”

———————————————————

The rest of the afternoon was a blur, as Y/N sat close to Annie, eyes fixated on a certain McLaren as he reached his final lap of the race.

“And Lando Norris has finished in P2!”

Cheers erupted from around Y/N and she found herself joining it. Turned out that ‘cars, and people and outside’ could be pretty exciting - who knew?!

“Fuck yeah!” Annie shouted, jumping up and down.

The McLaren driver removed his helmet before waving up to the crowds, a grin plastered on his face.

Y/N’s own grin left her face.

“Oh shit. That’s the guy I met earlier!”

“What?” Annie exclaimed. “You met Lando Norris?”

“Yes! Is he a big deal?” Y/N stated, panic rising.

Annie glanced around them, signalling to the cheering crowds - “Duh! What did you say to him?”

Y/N gulped - “I shoved a hot dog in my mouth and told him formula one is crap.”

Annie stared. No words left her mouth.

Y/N could feel her face turning red. “I then proceeded to ask him if he was going to the race.”

A quick, sharp laugh left Annie’s mouth, before she fell into floods of hysterics.

“Holy shit! What is wrong with you?!”

Y/N could feel herself cringing.

“Oh god, I don’t know! Lots apparently!”

She glanced down to Lando again, to find him smirking up at her. He winked, before turning back towards his team.

“Oh my god, I’m never going outside again.” Y/N cringed. “This is all your fault!”

“My fault?” Annie laughed. “I didn’t tell an F1 driver that his sport is crap!”

Before Y/N could respond, she felt a tap on her shoulder. A uniformed worker pressed a piece of paper into her hand.

“I’ve been asked to give this to you.” The woman smiled, before walking away.

“What is it?” Annie questioned, eyeing the paper.

Y/N unwrapped it, finding quickly scrawled words,

Hello Grumpy,

I hope the race was enough to change your mind about formula one. Here’s my number if you ever fancy a hot dog or a debate over ‘cars going zoom’.

LN xx

“What. The. Fuck.” Annie’s eyes widened.

Y/N grinned.

“Maybe I do like F1 after all!”

#lando norris #landonorris #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #lando Norris x reader #lando norris one shot #lando Norris oneshot #lando Norris imagine #lando Norris fanfic #FYP #lando Norris x female reader #f1 imagine #lando Norris x you #f1 smut #lando Norris fluff

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solbaby7 · 5 months

Text

Tripping Over You

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, some typos, sexual tension, clumsy reader, just fluff

summary: Your lack of situational awareness has a certain Shadowsinger stumbling to maintain his patience.

—

If Azriel was being perfectly truthful, he didn’t like you much.

It wasn’t personal but in the time he’d known you, he found you to have an annoyingly bad habit of being completely unaware of your surroundings; always just barely dodging being flayed by some disaster.

Call it bad luck or just plain carelessness but Azriel fucking hated it.

His fingers twitched when he’d caught you in a pile of your own limbs on the kitchen floor, a knife held loosely in your hand and a sheepish smile on your face as if you hadn’t almost just shoved the sharp blade in your neck because you’d been too preoccupied to clean up the little puddles of water you left around. “Give me that,” He grumbles with a scoff, carefully snatching the blade from your hands.

Unintelligible words drip from his tongue and you watch wide-eyed, slowly rising back to your feet as the shadowsinger quickly finished the sandwich you were attempting to make, slicing it four ways with a huff and sliding it in your direction. “Thanks.”

“You need to be more careful.”

More of that went on for weeks.

Short, snappy comments on your inability to step out of bed without the possibility of breaking a bone, soothed over by Azriel just completing whatever task for you. His behavior should’ve deterred you; the deep scowls and gruff voice, the tension in his shoulders that formed when he noticed you in a room—but at least he always noticed.

Always had a hand curling around your arm when you tripped and was the first one to pull you out of the water after wandering off a little too deep. Water soaks your hair, dripping into your eyes and you’re weightless when he tugs you over to the more shallow area, seaweed sinking in your toes. “Why are you even in the water if you can’t swim?”

“I can swim,” It comes out choppy, cheeks red from all the coughing but Azriel can’t help the feeling that burns in his belly when you peer up at him, eyes glittering and full lips quirking at the corners. “Just didn’t realize how far out I’d gotten.”

He looks positively exasperated by your passiveness, chest rising and falling quickly with each breath and you’re no better than any of the other women who dared stare at the spymaster long enough to take in the true expanse of muscle that lies beneath those leathers. Rippling pectorals, biceps that flexed deliciously as he spoke; he’s more animated than you’d ever anticipated, usually offering nothing but perfect silence—or the occasional sarcastic comment towards his brothers. You’re not really paying attention to what he’s saying, eyes wandering down his form and he abruptly stops talking when he sees the way your eyes catch down his abdomen, mouth pouty and hair dripping down your shoulders. “Are you even fucking listening?”

“Not really.”

“Unbelievable,” The view when he turns is almost as amazing as the front, perfect dips and ridges of his back and broad shoulders enough to have you forcing your eyes away before you drooled enough to fill the lake three times over. Inky hair shines under the sun, hazel eyes snapping to you over his shoulder and shadows slink out to you in seconds. They push at you, urging you forward until your toes sink in dry sand.

Azriel lets you go ahead first, partially because he wasn’t a hundred percent confident you wouldn’t try going back—but mostly he just wants a better look at the bathing suit you’d slipped into. It’s nothing overtly scandalous but attention drawing all the same, skinny ties and bottoms that show enough to have his fingers twitching with want at his sides. “You’re staring,” Rhys informed, a bare elbow nudging into Azriel’s ribs.

“Because, I just don’t get it,” He’s referring to you, tripping twice over nothing on your return to the girls under the shade, your knees scraped from a tumble and a scarred hand reaches to cup the back of his head when Amren swiftly stabilized you. “How come when Amren finally decides to make friends it’s with fucking Bambi of all people?”

“She’s sweet,” Rhys shrugs, violet eyes regarding you no more than a sister but your beauty was undeniable. “So, she’s a little clumsy—big deal.”

“A little clumsy,” Az repeats, sounding genuinely annoyed and the High Lord can’t push back the growing smirk that tugs on the corners of his mouth. “She’s a liability, she’s going to get herself ki—“ The words die on his tongue, a low sound pulling from his chest when Azriel is forced to send a shadow out to stop you from slicing your fingers clean off with the dagger Mor had handed over to pry open the wine bottle. “Mother above.”

The air was fresh, a cool breeze sifting through quickly drying clothes under the sweltering sun and Rhysand could admit he’d seen his brother through many emotions. Anger, grief, disappointment, happiness—but never such mother hen like attentiveness; hazel eyes tracking your every move like a hawk. “Are you interested in her?”

“Are you insane?”

Rhys shrugged, bare shoulders going golden under the suns rays. “That answer varies depending on who you ask but that doesn’t really answer my question.”

“She’s—“ The words get caught in his throat, muscles tensing under the discomfort that grows under his skin because Azriel hadn’t even thought about that. Sure, he’d been slightly more involved than he’d originally planned but you just kept getting yourself into such trouble; he had no choice but to stay close behind to make sure you stayed safe. “There’s no way—“ Heat begins to warm the top of his ears and the shove he gives is less than gentle. “Oh, fuck you.”

Rhysand doesn’t seem phased, a teasing smile on sharp features and Azriel doesn’t miss the way the High Lord keeps trailing his eyes back to Feyre, her fingers raking through your hair until most of it was braided out of your face and decorated in an assortment of little flowers. You’re soft—a little too sweet and that obliviousness Az always grumbled about was a little noticeable in the way you allowed things to just happen around you. Fey deciding to do your hair, Mor topping off your wine before you’d even gotten halfway through, Nesta snatching at the book you’d had tucked in your bag and her eyes widen when she flips to a random page, a red tinge flushing her cheeks.

But the book shuts too quickly for even Az’s shadows to sneak a peek.

“You’re allowed to be happy you know,” Rhysand doesn’t look; doesn’t even let his voice get too loud in fear that his friend would shut down or disappear and never bring up a single personal thing again. “If you like her then just act on it. Mother knows we all could benefit from a little more happiness.”

There’s a pause and Rhys can’t get a good read on what Azriel’s thinking. “I appreciate that but that’s not what this is. She’s just a danger to herself and others—it’s better I keep an eye on her myself.”

A knowing smile on the Lord of Darkness’ face. “Right, of course.”

—

It only gets worse from there and while Azriel doesn’t catch onto it right away—Rhysand was definitely behind it. Conjuring up wisps of darkness to curl around your ankles and trip you up, forcing the shadowsinger to rush to your aid and somewhere along the way he ditches his sneer for just a soft frown. “Sorry,” You sheepishly allow yourself to be steadied, acutely aware of the large hands splayed at your hips. “I think I’m still a little tired.”

“I bet,” Azriel’s quick to retort, hands slipping away entirely too soon and the ghost of where his touch once was yearned for more. “Heard Amren and Mor have been introducing you to Rhys’ liquor collection.”

At the reminder your hand raises to press to your temple, a low grunt sounding under your breath and he finds your crankiness kind of adorable. “Yeah, they’ve been breaking me in.”

He swallows audibly at the word choice, hazel eyes stealing a glance at you from the very corner of his vision but you make no indication that you were intending being flirtatious—it still doesn’t stop the blood from rushing to his cock. Giant wings bristle behind him and Azriel can’t stop staring at your night clothes; a tiny pair of shorts and an oversized shirt that hung off one shoulder. Your legs look soft; bare toes padding against the floor until you’re perched on the stool, eyes still a little hazy with sleep but you don’t make a move to cook anything—not with Azriel around.

He would’ve stopped you if you tried anyway and then he’d start complaining about you not being able to touch the appliances after forgetting to turn the burner off one time—or four.

But, who was really counting?

It’s instinctual the way he grabs for some fruit and a bowl, washing and carefully cutting them; peeling bitter citrus off and leaving the sweet parts before sliding the blow over. “Eat.”

You don’t hesitate though you do sigh softly, feet swinging. “Did Amren hire you to like take care of me or something?”

His brows furrow, confusion growing at the question, at your tone, at the embarrassed expression sinking into such pretty features it makes Azriel’s stomach twist. “No.”

But you only nod, frown still present while you spear at fresh fruit. “Are you sure? I know you’re the High Lords spymaster and Ren told me how you like to keep an eye on things.”

Ren?

Since when did Amren allow nicknames?

“—mentioned how she’s had you look after a few prized possessions for her before.” You seem different to him somehow, more guarded and stern than he’d ever once seen you and it sends a shiver up his spine. Intrigue grows, the picture of you he’d been painting of some scampering baby animal was beginning to seem furthest from the truth with such contained fire behind your tone and suddenly he wonders exactly where Amren even found you.

“I have before, yes.” The kitchen remains silent; probably not for much longer with the steadily rising sun and the smell of hot food beginning to waft in the air as Azriel sauntered about the kitchen—chopping here and adding spices there, cracking an egg or two before cranking the heat up a little higher to cook the potatoes faster. “And no, she didn’t ask me to watch you.”

“Then, why are you here?” You clear your throat, seemingly aware of how it comes off and he can’t resist a smile when you look genuinely confused. “Why are you always here?”

“I’m still not a hundred percent sure about that yet but,” He doesn’t face you when he answers, shoulders stretching out a plain black tee with carefully cut out lines on the back nearly six inches in diameter to make room for the base of his wings. They hover high behind him, flexing and shifting with his arms as he moves and you find yourself a little transfixed—a trained killer preparing you breakfast in his pajamas. “—you looked like you’d been stumbling your way through life for a while,” You’re pleasantly surprised by the amount of care in his voice; hair mussed and pillow lines fading in the left side of his cheek and your eyes catch on the low hang of his sweatpants. “Getting passed off from one hand to the next, just allowing life to happen to you however it came at you and I guess—“ He lets out a deep breath, the words seeming to be a struggle to muster up, to say out loud and you stay quiet in fear of scaring him off. “I suppose I could relate to what that felt like once upon a time and I figured you could benefit from a little support.”

You’re quiet longer than he’d have liked and Az can’t tell if the uptick in your heartbeat is a good thing or not but his shadows urge him to turn—to look. You seem skeptical at first, eyes boring into him so intensely he felt like you were stripping him bare, pulling back his ribs and holding his heart in your hands; judging his character and his choices and the soul that resided somewhere in between.

It’s a struggle to remain calm, the cool disposition that Azriel had thought he’d mastered crumbled to nothing before his very eyes. Scarred hands take their time fixing your plate, piling on the protein and making sure to add the fruit he’d caught you wiggling over the last time.

“No one’s ever said anything like that to me before.” Someone’s awake, you can hear their footsteps against the glossy floors and a steaming piece of bacon is pinched between two fingers when you lean over and press a kiss to Azriel’s cheek; just a gentle pressure an inch or two away from his mouth but you might as well have just punched him right in the gut with the way it takes his breath away. “Thank you.” He’s still reeling when you continue, humming in appreciation over your food and his fate is sealing when you smile brightly at him. “You know, you’re not so bad when you aren’t being a prick.”

“Tolerable enough to let me take you out sometime?”

“I’m surprised you know that’s a thing,” You tease over your food, wisps of cool darkness careening through your hair and resting at your thighs like a napping feline. “—considering you’ve taken to just following me everywhere.” There’s a blush burning on the curve of his ears, shadows ghosting past your ear as a distraction and distantly you wonder if Azriel could feel you the way they could. “Tripping me up with these things just to have an excuse to put your hands on me.”

“Wait, I haven’t—“ There’s a smug cough sounding in his brain and the spymaster’s gaze cuts to the corner of the room. A smirking Rhys still shirtless from the night before just lingering in silence, silently urging, mentally pleading with Az to just take this slice of happiness. He sucks in a soft breath, heart thudding against his chest and his voice is barely above a whisper. “If you knew why didn’t you stop me?”

He can smell your conditioner when you turn to face him, palms braced on the stool beneath you and you lean forward, eyes staring up at him and your toes graze at his knees. “Because, I like your attention.” More rustling and the unmistakable sound of Cassian’s booming laugh and you’re jumping off the stool, food finished and plate dropped off in the sink and Azriel can’t help but think that’s the most balanced he’d ever seen you as your hips swish a little on your way out, words thrown over your shoulder before you disappear. “And yes, I would like to go out with you sometime.”

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar x you #high lord rhysand #rhys acotar #acotar #azriel acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acowar #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar azriel #azriel #a court of silver flames #fluff

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amathslutsguidetofandom · 3 months

Note

Hear me out please…

Imagine Bucky doing this as a way to get you stay home from work and says something like “Nope. You can’t leave. If you leave, I’m going with you.”

The Bed's Warm, Why Go?

PAIRINGS: James "Bucky" Barnes x Reader

WARNINGS: swearing, unprotected sex (darlings, please wrap your man's pig in a blanket), p in v, nipple sucking, mentions of cum, cumming inside. (If I have left anything out pls DM me and let me know 😊)

WORD COUNT: 730

ENJOY!

"Doll, don't leave me all alone," his arm snakes around your middle just as you're about to get up from bed. He pulls you towards him, and your back hits his warm, bare chest.

"Love, you know I don't wanna go," you turn in your place and smile at him while scratching his stubble. "Then don't," he pouts and rubs your hip, then cups the back of your knee and hooks your leg over his muscular thigh.

"I need to earn, Bucky. How else am I gonna spoil my favourite man, hmm?" Bucky smirks, and you can see his cheeks flush slightly red. He sits against the headboard and lifts you as though you weigh nothing, setting you on his thighs.

"Stay with me, princess. Call in sick," he wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly close as he stuffs his face between your breasts. You sigh and chuckle softly, running your hands through his fluffy bed hair.

"Convince me," you whisper. And that's it. That's all Bucky needed to hear.

He quickly flips the both of you, settling in between your legs. "Don't have to tell me twice, doll."

He tugs your underwear to the side, and slips his cock free from the restraints of his boxers.

You'll never really get over how big your boyfriend is. You start to whine, needing to feel something. "Bucky."

He smirks at your neediness, bending to catch your lips in a chaste kiss. "Oh, I know, doll, I know. Trust me, I'm going to fuck you so good that you forget about work. So good, that the way you walk into work tomorrow, your co-workers are going to think you were really sick."

A whimper leaves your lips, and he chuckles, tapping his cock on your clit. You gasp at the sensation. "Yes, please. Bucky, oh god," you whine, gripping onto his shoulders.

His brows pinched together as he slowly slips into your weeping hole. "Fuck. So, fucking tight, princess." You throw your head back against the pillows, biting your lip as you feel your walls trying their best to accommodate his girth.

He bottoms out in you, and you feel his pubic hair tickle your sensitive button. "Bucky, move please," you whine again. He leans back and grabs your hips, then he starts to pull out until it's just the tip of him inside.

Then he slams into you, and you wail his name. His thrusts start to become harsher, and your moans become more higher in pitch. "Such a good girl for me, yeah? Taking everything I give you."

You moan and start babbling when he hits that particular spot on your spongy wall. "Fuck, Bucky. Right there, right there!" Bucky bends, grabbing the headboard with one hand and tossing your leg over his shoulder with the other.

Reaching new depths into your canal, you scream in pleasure. "Oh yeah, just like that doll. Let the neighbours know how good I make you feel," he sucks a bruising kiss on your neck before sloppily marking up the rest of the column of your throat.

His thrusts are short and hard, and with each one of them, you move closer to the headboard. "Fuck, Bucky, you feel so good," you whine loudly.

You clench around him hard, feeling tears prick at the corner of your eyes. "Babe, I'm close." Bucky groans at your words, thrusting faster. "Shit, me too."

The band tightens until the tension breaks. You arch your back as you gush all over Bucky's cock. "OH FUCK."

Bucky grunts, feeling you milk him. "God, so pretty when you come like that, princess."

You feel his thrusts falter in pace, indicating he's close. You reach behind him and grab his ass, squeezing the muscle. "C'mon baby, come for me," you whisper. He groans, pressing himself against you. Your thigh is impossibly pressed against your chest, and you moan again.

"Shit," Bucky grunts as his body goes slack, and you feel his warm load paint the inside of your walls.

You both pant hard, trying to catch your breaths.

After a while, Bucky removes your leg from his shoulder, and then proceeds to lay himself on top of you. Resting his head on your boobs, he smiles tiredly. "So, you going to work?" he raises a brow.

All you can do is just laugh and playfully flick at his nose.

💌💌💌

Thanks for the ask, babes!!!!

Absolutely, in love with that gif.

I srsly can't stop looking at it, LMAO.

Till' then

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #james buchanan barnes

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chvoswxtch · 3 months

Text

first date

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: frank finally asks you out on a date.

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 6.7k

a/n: y'all have only been waiting seventeen chapters for these two to finally go on a date, but the moment has arrived! i'd like to give a shoutout to the main character of this chapter: frank's belt. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Before you could even think about getting out of Frank’s truck and heading inside the Bulletin, his large hand reached over to grasp your own that was in your lap, giving it a gentle squeeze to capture your attention. When you turned to look back at him, there was a nervous glint in his eye. Nervous was not an emotion you were used to seeing Frank wear. As a matter of fact, you weren’t sure you had ever seen it, and it triggered your own nerves in response.

“I wanna ask you somethin’.”

“Okay.”

Despite the softness of your tone, your voice seemed to echo in the confined space of his truck. The way Frank’s warm brown eyes were darting back and forth between your own made it apparent that he seemed to be struggling with whatever it was that he wanted to ask. To soothe him, you turned your palm over in his large hand so that you could lace your fingers together and lightly stroked your thumb along one of his scarred knuckles affectionately. After an agonizing moment of tense silence, he let out a deep exhale through his nose and his rough voice broke through the quietness that had settled.

“What are you doin’ Saturday night?”

When the implication behind his question clicked in your head, a huge grin instantly split your lips completely apart to the point that your cheeks ached, and your eyes lit up with pure excitement. Tilting your head to the side a bit in a teasing manner, you faintly narrowed your eyes into a look of faux suspicion.

“Frank Castle, are you asking me out on a date?”

Frank blew out a puff of air as he turned his head to look out the windshield, letting out a quiet chuckle as the edge of his lips quirked up in a crooked half smile. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and when he turned to look at you again, his gaze flickered between your lips and your eager stare.

“Tryin’ to.”

Sinking your top teeth down into your bottom lip, you turned your body completely in the passenger seat so that you were facing Frank, still holding his hand in your lap while you sat up straight. As you looked over at him expectantly, Frank cocked one of his dark brows in silent questioning, prompting you to arch one of your own in response.

“Well, go on.”

“Go on, what?”

“Ask me.”

“I just did.”

“No, you said you wanted to. I didn’t hear a formal query.”

Frank rolled his eyes as he let his head fall back against the headrest, shaking it slightly while he let out a lighthearted scoff.

“You don’t ever make anythin’ easy, do ya?”

“I thought you figured that out by now.”

Frank clicked his tongue against his cheek, but you could see how hard he was fighting his amusement by the way the corners of his mouth twitched. Letting out an impatient huff, you rolled your own eyes and squeezed his hand to get him to look at you.

“Oh come on, do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? I want the whole experience.”

That got Frank’s attention. Turning his head to look at you, his thick brows rose up his forehead a bit, but only for a moment. His gaze then tapered while a cocky smirk lifted the left corner of his mouth upwards, and he motioned in your direction with his chin.

“How long?”

Heat abruptly flushed in your cheeks when your brain caught up with the confession your mouth let slip. Narrowing your own eyes at Frank, you let go of his hand and crossed your arms over your chest defiantly.

“You have thirty seconds before I get out of this truck.”

Frank chuckled deeply, causing light crinkles to fan around his eye sockets, and the unfiltered joy on his face made your heart feel like it was going to burst out of your chest. It never failed to amaze you how different Frank looked when he smiled. It was almost like looking at an entirely different person. One that wasn’t haunted by a separate lifetime of trauma and unbearable loss. He finally lifted his large hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright, alright.”

Twisting in his seat to face you, Frank brought his arm over to slide along the headrest next to you, and he slipped his thick fingers into your hair, moving them downwards until he could brush the rough pad of his thumb along your cheekbone delicately.

“Sweetheart, can I take ya out Saturday night?”

Almost instinctively, you melted into Frank’s touch, your cheek finding its home within his palm. There was a boyish grin on his lips, and you were tempted to climb across the space between you and straddle his lap so you could taste them. A sense of giddiness was fluttering in your stomach, and a smile born of pure happiness was strewn across your mouth.

“It’s a date.”

»»———　　———««

Frank was the epitome of a perfect gentleman. He showed up at your door five minutes early, although you had a slight suspicion he had been lingering in your hallway for far longer than that, and he had a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. Either you didn’t remember telling him what your favorite flower was, or Frank just really knew you. It was a simple, perhaps old fashioned gesture, but it warmed your heart. No one had ever gotten you flowers before, except for your mom.

To your surprise, Frank wore a black tie with his navy blue button down that was tucked into his dark jeans, and even threw a black blazer on top. You hadn’t seen him this dressed up since the night of the gala. It was kind of odd seeing him look so cleaned up.

The restaurant he took you to had to be one of the nicest places you had ever stepped foot in. It looked like one of those places that charged you just to breathe their air, and you felt severely underdressed in the simple black dress you wore, even though Frank had complimented it at least three times on the walk over.

A pristine white cloth was draped over the square table complete with the most shiny silverware you had ever seen resting on opposite sides of an eggshell colored plate. In the middle of the table was a small glass half sphere that had an ivory tinted tea light candle inside, creating an ambient glow in the dim lighting. Continuing the chivalry, Frank pulled out your chair for you and you quietly thanked him before he rounded the table to take his own seat. Your eyes were quickly drawn to the floor to ceiling grand windows to your right that had a breathtaking view of the Brooklyn Bridge all lit up. It was the perfect romantic backdrop.

But it wasn’t you.

And it wasn’t Frank.

He couldn’t sit still. He was shifty, tugging at the black tie around his neck, subtly bouncing his knee under the table. Frank’s eyes were constantly darting around, a habit of his you had grown accustomed to. Anywhere you two went, he was always hypervigilant, constantly sitting where he had a whole view of whatever place he was in, and a clear sight of all the entrances and exits. But tonight it almost seemed worse. It was blatantly obvious he was completely out of his element. He hadn’t said one word to you in the five minutes since the two of you had sat down at your table. Frank’s thick eyebrows were furrowed, an array of warring emotions flashing across his face while looking down at the sleek menu in his large hands.

Frank wasn’t the only one that felt out of place. You couldn’t hardly read a word on the menu, and the price for one single glass of wine made your eyes nearly pop out of your head. A few more minutes of silence passed before you glanced up at Frank again, and you noticed a few beads of sweat building along his hairline. He looked as uncomfortable as you felt. The other people sitting at neighboring tables around yours reminded you of people you had been introduced to at a dinner party with Steven once. It wasn’t as much of a dinner party as it was an excuse for Steven’s parents to show off their ridiculous multi-million dollar home, inviting New York’s elite to kiss his father’s ass while the attendees compared shiny new toys, scandals, and mistresses. That had been one of the most miserable nights of your life.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the waiter approached the table, hands clasped behind his back, looking between you and Frank with a polite smile. He was tall and thin, freshly shaven, and his dirty blonde hair was perfectly quaffed. He was dressed as if he were attending a black and white gala, not waiting tables.

“Good evening, and welcome to Brasserie. My name is Andrew. It is our pleasure to have you dining with us this evening. Shall I start you with a glass of our 2014 Brunello di Montalcino ma’am? Perhaps a Manhattan with our twelve year barrel aged rye whiskey for you sir? They both pair well with our Seared Foie Gras.”

Frank was staring at the waiter like he was speaking a language he had never heard of. His thick brows were creased in evident confusion, and you had to attempt to stifle a laugh at just how adorable he looked in that moment. You cleared your throat to gain the waiter’s attention and gave him a polite smile of your own.

“Can we have a moment to look over the menu, please?”

Andrew gave a faint nod of his head, his hands still clasped behind his back. That polite smile looked like it was permanent.

“Of course, ma’am. I’ll be back in a few moments.”

After he retreated, you looked across the table at Frank curiously.

“How did you find this place, exactly?”

Hearing the suspicion in your voice, Frank adjusted restlessly in his chair, reaching up to tug at the tie around his neck with a low grunt. His eyes darted around the restaurant for the thousandth time since you had sat down.

“Bill recommended it. Pulled some strings, got us a table.”

Suddenly it all clicked. No wonder Frank seemed so uncomfortable. He didn’t pick this place; Billy did. This restaurant had Billy Russo written all over it. With that new information, the way he was all dressed up now made sense too. On one hand, it made you grin knowing Frank had gone to Billy for help planning for your first date. It was so…cute. You would’ve given anything to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. On the other hand though, while you appreciated Billy’s input and help, you wanted tonight to be about you and Frank, and this setting didn’t represent either of you.

Quickly shutting the menu, you placed it back down on your plate and stood up, which immediately grabbed Frank’s attention. His head snapped up, looking at you in a mixture of puzzlement and trepidation, and when you held your hand out to him, he stared at it like it was a foreign object.

“Come on.”

“Where we goin’?”

“Just come on.”

Following suit, Frank closed his menu and set it down on the plate, grabbing your hand and standing up from his chair. Lacing your fingers together, you lead him down the exact path you had taken from the host’s stand and exited back outside onto the street through the tall glass doors. After taking a few steps down the sidewalk, you paused and turned around to face Frank, dropping his hand to reach up and undo the knot of his tie, slipping the black material from around his neck and stuffing it into your purse. You unbuttoned the first three buttons of his dark navy shirt, giving you a glimpse of his tan skin beneath, and pushed the black blazer off his broad shoulders and down his large arms. Folding his blazer over your arm, you took a step back to take in your handiwork, and a tender smile caressed your lips.

This was the Frank you knew.

“Much better.”

Frank glanced down at himself before lifting his head to look back at you. There was a look in his eyes that you didn’t know how to read. His lips parted slightly, and then quickly shut. Turning his head to stare at the restaurant the two of you had just left, he was quiet for a moment before looking down at you again. This time, you could see a hint of uncertainty shining in his deep brown eyes under the illumination of the street light above.

“I’m sorry.”

Frank’s apology instantly perplexed you, and it was written all over your face.

“Sorry for what?”

He let out a deep sigh, looking over your head to watch people passing by on the street in opposite directions behind you. He lifted one of his large hands to nervously rub at the back of his neck before meeting your gaze again.

“I uh…don’t really know what I’m doin’, here. I’m a bit…outta practice.”

The honesty behind his confession made your heart constrict in your ribcage. You knew what he meant. Frank hadn’t dated since he lost his wife. He hadn’t been on a first date in decades. It suddenly occurred to you how big of a deal tonight was to Frank, and that made your features soften. Taking a step closer, you brought one of your hands up to gently place against his jaw, staring up at him with an understanding smile.

“It’s okay. So am I.”

The feeling of your soft hand on his skin made him physically relax almost instantaneously. His large hands came up to gently grab your waist, and he pulled you in flush against his chest, staring down into your eyes deeply.

“I just…wanted tonight to be special for ya.”

The juxtaposition of his gruff voice speaking so softly sent a tingle down your spine and only made you melt into his embrace even further. He was trying so hard, putting so much effort into trying to achieve what he thought was perfection, not realizing that the one thing you wanted tonight was the man standing in front of you.

“Frank, it’s already special. I’m with you. That’s all I wanted. I don’t need all of that. You could take me to get hot dogs at the stand on the street corner, and I’d be thrilled.”

Frank’s lips tugged into a wide grin as he chuckled, giving your waist a faint squeeze while shaking his head.

“I ain’t takin’ you for a goddamn hot dog on our first date.”

“Why not? I like hot dogs.”

“I ain’t ever even seen you eat a hot dog.”

Fighting your own grin, you tilted your head to the side and narrowed your eyes lightheartedly while gazing up at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be trying to impress me? Not arguing with me?”

Frank’s dark brown eyes roamed over your figure in his hands, a smirk stretching across his lips at the sass in your voice.

“Thought that’s what I was doin’ til’ you dragged us outta that nice place.”

“I wasn’t paying thirty-seven dollars for one fucking glass of wine.”

“You wouldn’ta been payin’ anyway.”

Rolling your eyes, you gave his bicep a gentle squeeze while smirking up at him.

“Okay fine, I wasn’t going to let you pay thirty-seven dollars for one glass of wine. That’s like…three times what I spend on one bottle.”

“Didn’t realize you were so high maintenance.”

Burying your face into his chest, you couldn’t stop the laughter that made your shoulders shake slightly. Frank’s arms slipped around your waist, hugging you close to his chest, and you could hear his own laughter echoing deep within his chest and feel it rumbling against your own. Leaning back a little, you looked up at him with a teasing smirk and arched one of your brows.

“You know, I’m surprised Maria ever went out with you. You’re kind of the worst.”

Frank stared down at you with a soft smile and his large hand rubbed up and down your lower back gently.

“You and me both.”

Even though the two of you were standing on a crowded sidewalk in lower Manhattan with dozens of people passing by every second, while the two of you stared at one another, everything else faded away. It felt like you were in your own little bubble.

“Alright, if you’re gonna fight me on hot dogs, what’s the compromise between that and a menu I can’t read or pronounce?”

“I had a back up plan.”

»»———　　———««

Frank took you to a small little Italian restaurant for dinner. It was owned by a family who had immigrated to New York in the 1960s from Sicily and had been passed down through the hands of several generations. The red brick of the walls had faded into a dull shade of rust, the wooden table was worn and chipped from several decades of use and hot plates, and the wine tasted like it had come out of a five dollar box, but it was perfect.

Both of you were so much more relaxed and at ease in this cozy, intimate environment. The owner of the restaurant, a charismatic older man named Tony with a thick Italian accent, talked you into ordering the Rigatoni Amatriciana, and it was one of the best dishes you had ever tasted. He also never let your wine glass go completely empty. Once he found out you and Frank were on a date, every time Tony came over to your table, he’d look at you before glancing at Frank and nudge his shoulder with a grin, nodding in your direction and saying ‘lucky man’. It never failed to make you blush, or to make Frank beam with pride.

This was the most laid back you had ever seen Frank. The wine was flowing, and you were trading bites of each other’s dishes along with stories. He was in the middle of telling you how he met Maria at a park when you nearly spit out your wine as laughter abruptly erupted from your lips.

“Wait, she said what?”

Frank was laughing just as hard as you were, covering the top half of his face with his large hand, his broad shoulders moving up and down rapidly.

“Swear to God, she says, ‘Hey buddy, you know anythin’ else? Because we’re sick of hearin’ you butcher this one’.”

Covering your mouth with your hand, you were trying so hard to contain your laughter, but the image of a nineteen year old embarrassed Frank getting called out by his future wife for playing guitar so badly was causing your stomach to ache from your fit of giggles.

“Were you really that bad?”

“I wasn’t bad, I was just…strugglin’, ya know? I was tryin’ to learn a new song, ya know…singin’ it out loud like an asshole. I was-”

Frank paused for a moment, like he was replaying the memory in his head, and then a grin split across his lips as he shook his head and started laughing again.

“-I was butcherin’ the hell outta it.”

Hearing the resignation in his voice when he stopped defending himself only made you laugh even harder, watching as he brought his glass of wine to his smiling lips to take a large sip.

“Wow, she must have really liked you to still go out with you after that.”

Frank set his glass of wine down and gave a light nod of his head, staring down at his empty plate with a soft smile on his lips and a somewhat far away look in his eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah she uh…she saw somethin’, I guess. Somethin’ I couldn’t.”

Staring over at Frank quietly for a moment, you set your wine glass down before reaching across the table to place your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. When he glanced up to meet your gaze, you looked at him with a warm smile on your lips.

“It doesn’t matter if you couldn’t see it. She saw it, and it was special. That’s all that matters.”

Frank regarded you silently for a minute, and then a tender smile of his own crossed his lips while he brought your hand up to place a soft kiss to the back of it.

“You’re somethin’ special, you know that?”

Warmth caressed the tops of your cheeks and spread throughout your lower belly. The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at you…it had those three words right on the tip of your tongue again. It was astounding how everything with Frank felt so…natural. He was the first person you didn’t have to pretend with or water yourself down for. He didn’t expect you to be anyone other than who you were. Tonight was the most relaxed and carefree you had ever felt on a date, or in any of your past relationships before. As badly as you wanted to shout those three words from the rooftops, you decided on another truth instead.

“You make me feel it.”

»»———　　———««

After indulging in the most delicious tiramisu you’d ever tasted in your life, you and Frank found yourselves in a small dive bar a few blocks down the street. It wasn’t too terribly packed for a Saturday night, and you two managed to snag an unoccupied pool table towards the back of the bar after ordering a round of drinks. Frank, being the gentleman he is, offered to teach you how to play, and even though you already knew how, you weren’t going to turn down the offer. It was far too enticing.

For about half an hour, you let him explain the game, felt him pressing up against you from behind while he “taught you” how to hold the pool cue and how to aim, his large rough hands manipulating yours on the cue to demonstrate proper placement. After he was finished with his little lesson, and with the liquid mischief of tequila flowing through your bloodstream, you decided to make things interesting.

“I bet the next round of drinks that I can sink that seven.”

Frank quickly paused when lifting his beer bottle to his lips, arching one of his thick brows while an expression of amusement painted his features as he looked at you.

“Yeah? One lesson and you’re an expert, huh?”

Without offering a verbal reply, you winked at him before leaning over the pool table and lining up your shot.

The deep maroon seven ball glided along the hunter green felt canvas that’s vibrancy had been muted by decades of ashen smoke, complemented by faint rings from one too many sweaty beer glasses and other questionable stains. It sank into the corner pocket with a loud clack, and Frank’s attention flickered between the corner pocket and your form leaned over the pool table, an expression of complete surprise flashing across his features.

Slowly rising up to your full height, you fought to contain the smirk that threatened to overtake your entire mouth, though a whisper of it could be detected at the corner of your ruby painted lips. Frank noticed it, he noticed everything, and it had him narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“You hustlin’ me?”

Placing the bottom of the pool stick on the floor, your fingers lightly slid down the smooth maple wood, lightly wrapping around the midsection while you lightly shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Frank stared at you from where he stood casually leaning against the edge of the table, one of his large hands resting on his hip along the leather of his belt, the other grasping his own pool stick with two of his fingers and his beer bottle with the rest. The dim light above the pool table cast a shadow over his sharp features that made his warm whiskey eyes appear more like deep pools of darkened espresso. His thick brows pinched, causing a crease in his forehead.

“You said you didn’t know how to play-”

“I never said that.”

The look of faux innocence on your features caused Frank’s eyes to darken, cocking his head to the side while staring at you in a way that was silently challenging you to prove his memory wrong. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you slowly began to round the expansive pool table, your lips stretching into a playful grin. Slipping between Frank’s large form and the table, you purposefully brushed your ass against the front of his jeans, eliciting a deep grunt from him in response.

“You said you could teach me.”

Leaning over the pool table, you arched your back a little more than necessary while lining your pool stick up with the cue ball, lifting your ass further up into Frank’s point of view. You didn’t need to glance over your shoulder to know that’s exactly where his hungry gaze was. You could feel it.

“Yeah, and you let me.”

There was just barely a trace of annoyance nestled in the gravel of his deep voice, and it made you grin.

“Did you think I was gonna pass up the opportunity to let you bend me over something?”

The dingy ivory cue ball was lined up perfectly with the smooth electric blue of the two, but just as you were about to take your shot, Frank’s large hand wrapped around your hip and squeezed tightly as he pressed himself against you from behind, and your hand slipped. The cue ball sailed only a few inches ahead in the opposite direction you planned for, and you tightened your grip around your pool stick.

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you turned your head to look up at Frank over your shoulder, only to find him staring back at you with a burning intensity that ignited a flame of pure desire in your lower belly.

“That wasn't fair.”

“And wigglin’ your ass in the air, bein’ a goddamn tease is?”

Before you could respond, Frank leaned forward, pressing his firm chest right up against your back, letting you feel the heat of his body against yours. The spiced woodsy scent of his cologne overwhelmed your senses far more than the concoction that wafted in the dense air of the dive bar, and you could almost taste the beer on his lips when he leaned in so close that his large nose bumped against your own.

“You wanna play dirty, sweetheart? We’ll play dirty.”

Frank suddenly stood up straight and let go of you to walk around towards the opposite end of the pool table. He grabbed the triangular rack and retrieved the balls from the outlet below before grabbing the others that were still scattered across the table, and he set up a brand new game with a look of pure focus and determination in his eyes.

You couldn’t help yourself from being even more of a tease. Frank just looked too damn good, and you had a great buzz going. He’d loosened another button to your delight, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows exposing his muscular forearms. Leaning your pool stick against the table, you sauntered over towards the high top table to your right where your purse was and slipped your hand inside, pulling Frank’s long forgotten tie out.

“If I win-”

Turning around to face Frank with a smirk, you noticed that he had paused his set up of the game and was now glancing between the tie in your hands and the look on your face in a mixture of intrigue and confusion.

“-I get to use this, on you.”

As soon as those words left your lips, Frank’s eyes instantly darkened. He stared at you in a way that made you want to abandon the game all together and drag him out to the alley to let him fuck you there, but you knew he wouldn’t budge. Frank didn’t back down from a challenge. He embraced it. His eyes flickered between the tie in your hands and your gaze, letting out a quiet grunt accompanied by a nod in response before removing the rack once the balls were set up in a perfect triangle.

Grabbing his beer bottle from the edge of the table, he motioned towards your pool cue with it before taking a large sip.

“Ladies first.”

Placing the tie back into your purse, confusion knit between your brows at Frank’s nonchalance. You stared at him from the opposite end of the table, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what you get if you win?”

Frank focused his attention solely on you, and there was a predatory look in his eyes that made you nearly sink to your knees right then and there.

“Figured I’d show ya instead.”

»»———　　———««

It took Frank twenty minutes to kick your ass. Twenty. Minutes. Why you thought you could actually beat him, who really knows. Maybe it was the confidence granted from the glasses of wine at dinner and the two margaritas you’d already had. Maybe you underestimated how good of a pool player Frank was, which was stupid on your part considering it wasn’t far fetched to think that his base had a pool table and he probably perfected his game during his tours in the Marines. Maybe you just didn’t give a fuck if you won or not because either way, you got Frank. He didn’t tell you exactly what he wanted if he won, but the fact of the matter was you could see in his eyes just what it was that he wanted and you were more than eager to give it to him.

Frank kicked the door to the small dive bar bathroom shut with his boot, taking his hand off you only for a quick second to lock the door. His kisses were hungry and aggressive, and even a little possessive. His large hands slipped from your waist down to your hips and finally reached around to land on your ass, squeezing roughly through the thin material of your dress. The action made you moan into his mouth, and he tore his lips away from yours just to attach them to your neck, leaving a wet trail of open mouthed kisses before speaking into your ear in a low and rough voice that had your panties immediately soaked.

“Been wantin’ to rip this off you all goddamn night.”

“No one’s stopping you.”

Frank’s large hands found their way to your hips once again, and he tugged your dress upwards until the hem of it was at the top of your thighs. Gripping onto your waist, he quickly lifted you up and placed you on the edge of the sink, the cool ceramic of it a stark contrast to the heated skin on the backs of your thighs. Just as you were reaching for his belt, he suddenly let go of you and took a few steps back, his tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip. Seeing the look of confusion on your face and the impatient pout on your lips, he stared at you with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Put your hands together.”

Blinking a few times, you continued to stare at him in perplexity. A crease formed between your brows at his words.

“What?”

Frank didn’t tear his ravenous eyes away from you. They trailed over your figure, drinking in the sight of your dress bunched up to your hips, your thighs spread apart as you sat on the edge of the sink with your legs dangling below, a delectable view of your soaked panties. He took in the way your breasts rose and fell quickly from how hard you were breathing already, the heat that flushed in your cheeks, and the look in your eyes that gave away just how badly you wanted him.

Bringing his large hands to his belt, he slowly and teasingly started to unbuckle it. Despite the fact that you two were in a public space and anyone could come banging on the door at any minute, he was taking his time, making a show of pulling the worn leather from the metal buckle.

“Your hands. Put ‘em together. I got a prize to claim.”

You were so mesmerized and aroused by the sight of Frank unbuckling his belt, you almost missed what he said. Lifting your gaze up to look at him, you seemed to get an idea of what he had planned for you, and it sent a thrill of excitement throughout your entire body. Without another moment of hesitation, you quickly pressed your hands together which earned a pleased smirk from Frank. He cocked his head to the side, slipping his belt from the loops of his jeans while taking a step towards you.

“Would ya look at that. You can do what you’re told. This what I gotta do to get you to listen, baby?”

An intense wave of heat pooled between your thighs at the way he was teasing you. His voice was so coarse and rough, but the way he spoke to you was smooth like honey. Biting down on your bottom lip, you gave a faint shake of your head.

“I’m listening cause I want it too.”

Frank was standing directly in front of you now between your spread thighs, and a grin stretched over his soft lips as he kept his head cocked to the side, staring into your eyes in pure hunger and amusement.

“That right?”

All you could manage was a soft hum in the back of your throat in response. When he started to wrap his belt around your wrists, your gaze quickly dropped to watch. The loud music playing outside was nothing compared to how loudly your heart was pounding in your ears. Frank carefully but expertly bound your wrists together, giving the leather a gentle tug to test his own work. Grasping your chin between his thumb and index finger, he lifted your head to capture your eyes.

“This alright?”

Nodding your head eagerly, Frank let out a soft chuckle. He lightly brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, leaning in to nuzzle his large nose against yours.

“C’mon now. That pretty head full of all them big words and you ain’t got none for me right now?”

“Hurry up.”

Frank let out a deep bellow of laughter at your impatient and rushed response, crinkles of delight fanning around his eye sockets.

“There’s my girl.”

Grabbing your elbows, Frank lifted your arms above your head, hooking your bound wrists on a piece of the light fixture above the mirror, leaving you completely at his mercy. He didn’t waste any time unzipping his pants to free his fully erect cock, attaching his lips to your neck once again while he pulled your panties to the side and pushed his hips forward. Immediately your head fell back against the mirror behind you the second that Frank’s thick cock nestled deeply within your snug walls and a loud grunt from him was followed by a desperate moan from you.

Time was not a luxury you had right now, and as much as Frank wanted to lose himself in you, he had to keep in mind where you were. Wrapping one of his strong arms around your waist, he pulled you closer to the edge of the sink, and while you wrapped your legs tightly around his lower back, he began to snap his hips swiftly. The glass was cold against the exposed skin of your back, and Frank was fucking you so hard, you thought it was gonna shatter from impact.

“Frank-”

He quickly placed his large hand over your mouth and whispered deeply into your ear.

“Shh shh shh, need ya to be quiet for me, baby.”

The sounds of your sharp moans and cries of pleasure were muffled by Frank’s large hand that was clamped over your mouth to keep you quiet. He buried his face into your neck, licking and sucking at your sensitive flesh, biting down gently to keep himself from moaning out. Every low grunt and groan Frank dripped into your ear was pushing you closer and closer to that edge that you wanted to free fall from. He was being rougher with you than he ever had, and it made your head spin.

Tugging at his belt around your wrists, you let out a muffled whine against his palm. You wanted to touch him, but you were also enjoying this side of Frank too much to really care. Long gone was the gentleman who had picked you up at your door just hours ago with flowers in hand. Frank was fucking you hard and rough, and it was quick and messy, but it was exhilarating. Every time you were with Frank, it was like a brand new experience. He made you feel things you had never felt before, and gave you things you didn’t even know you were craving.

You could tell he was close when his pace started to falter. He began to fuck you relentlessly, and your legs tightened around his lower back. Your arms were starting to ache from being suspended above your head, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to really fucking care. You were far too turned on and dangerously close to coming. Slipping his hand down from your mouth to wrap around your throat instead, he pressed his forehead against yours and spoke lowly while staring deeply into your eyes.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t hardly speak. The way Frank was fucking you, his hand around your throat, your wrists bound above your head with his belt, the fact that you were in the bathroom of a dive bar; it all rendered you in incoherent mess. All you could do was nod weakly while letting out an obscene moan, staring at him with wide eyes in complete desperation.

“Attagirl.”

That was all it took for a warm blanket of bliss to envelop you completely and stars to explode behind your eyelids. Frank poured sweet nothings into your ear while your hips uncontrollably bucked against him, and he continued to fuck you deeply through your orgasm. He dropped his hand from your throat and wrapped his other arm around your waist, hugging you tightly to his chest when his hips started to stutter.

The sound of Frank calling out your name when he reached his own peak was something you would never get tired of. It sent chills throughout your entire body, and it only made it that much harder to not speak those three words that tried to claw their way out of your ribcage.

Frank gently brought your arms down and removed his belt from your wrist, slipping it back through the loops of his jeans before buckling it and zipping up his fly. Wetting a napkin, he carefully cleaned you up, pressing soft kisses along your jawline in the process. A hazy grin stretched across your lips as you slowly slid your hands up Frank’s biceps to wrap around his neck.

“We should make bets more often.”

He let out a deep chuckle as he grabbed your waist and gently lifted you up from the sink, setting you back down on unsteady legs. He helped you fix your dress before grasping your chin between his thumb and index finger, smirking at you.

“You ain’t gotta make a bet for that. All you gotta do is ask.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle smut #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher smut #the punisher series

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clementinegreye · 2 months

Text

safer dreams

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader ||

summary: it's not easy to keep someone safe in your nightmares, something Spencer knows all too well.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: fluff || there was only one bed || brief talks of CM themes (nothing graphic)

Exhaling slowly and processing what she could see in front of her, she let out a small huff of frustration. Her feet ached and her back felt tense from the day. The team had pinned down their current Unsub’s geographical profile which had led them on a tense chase which, had it not been for Spencer’s quick trigger finger, might have ended with her meeting a bullet.

After such an intense case the team had decided to stay the night in a local motel and hit the runway early in the morning. Hotch had insisted, they all needed a night to rest and decompress before they had to go back and meet the paperwork waiting for them in Virginia.

All she wanted was to crawl into bed and rest her muscles. But of course, nothing ever happened that smoothly. There hadn’t been enough rooms for everyone at the motel, meaning everyone had to double up. It wasn’t something they hadn’t done before, and over the phone, the motel owner had promised the rooms all had twin beds.

The day had been exhausting, and now she realised after taking in the room in front of her that she had another problem to deal with.

Spencer let the door shut behind him as he came up behind her. Letting his go bag drop to the floor with a light thud. He flexed his fingers allowing the circulation to come back to where the straps of his bag had cut it off.

‘What’s wron… Oh,’ His own eyes caught the layout of the hotel room and landed on exactly what caused his co-worker’s reaction.

The room was small, the door to the bathroom tucked into the corner to the left of the entrance, there was no room for a desk or table but they’d squeezed in a small two-seater sofa. The burgundy plush carpet radiated the warm glow from the bedside lights and cast the room in a cosy ambience. But there was a problem, clearly just a miscommunication with the booking.

One bed.

‘I’ll go back to the front desk; I swear Hotch told me the motel owner told him earlier that there were twin beds for the team.’ He knew it was simply a case of human error. A case of mixed-up keys and booking information. It really wasn’t a big deal, so why did it feel like such a big deal?

‘Spence, we knew we already had to double up, and they had a no vacancies sign.’ She sighed, allowing her feet to travel across the carpet to the other side of the room. ‘It’s fine.’

‘Maybe they gave us the wrong room, I’m sure they can swap…’ His reasoning was futile, he didn’t need to be a genius to realise there was no negotiating with a no vacancies sign. It was almost like he was trying to talk himself down from a ledge, trying to make sense in his mind the panic he was feeling rising in his chest.

‘It’s almost 2 am. If it was a mistake, I’m sure the couple who have our twin beds are fast asleep.’ She had her back to him, facing the small sofa.

She dropped her own go bag on the blush cushion and stretched her arms above her head. The movement caused her shirt to rise just enough that a sliver of her back hit the light, showing two distinct dimples at the bottom of her spine. The image caught Spencer’s eye. It was an innocent move, but his gaze felt all too intimate. With the proximity of the four walls surrounding them, and the quietness of the room it caused an irregular beat in his heart that he was certain was audible and he snapped his eyes away. He swallowed thickly, glaring at the threadbare curtains shutting out the beams of moonlight.

‘We’re the FBI.’ He spoke almost factually as if the authority of the title could force the hotel to rouse a sleeping couple and get them to move rooms, simply for the convenience of guarding his own feelings.

‘Spence. It’s fine with me if it’s fine with you.’ Her voice was quiet, tiredness lacing its way into her speech. She rubbed a hand up her forearm absentmindedly, and if Spencer was in the right mind to focus on profiling her behaviour, he might have deduced that the action was caused by nerves.

‘If what’s fine?’ He stuttered, his brain not quite working to its usual capacity when he met her tired eyes. She raised an eyebrow, almost annoyed but not quite committed enough to it.

‘The bed. We can share for one night. It’s just one night.’ His eyes held a panicked glint. She wasn’t to know that the problem wasn’t that he was going to have to share a bed with her. The problem was he was worried she’d realise exactly how much he wanted to share a bed with her. His lack of response made her uneasy. Spencer Reid was very rarely lost for words. ‘If you’re uncomfortable I can sleep on the sofa.’

‘It’s tiny, and you almost got shot today…’ He stammered, suddenly regaining control of his runaway thoughts long enough to register the lengthy silence between them. She nodded, almost shyly, and his throat closed as he realised how she’d inferred his words. ‘I’m not uncomfortable, don’t sleep on the sofa. There’s no way I can let you sleep on the sofa. There’s enough room for both of us in the bed.’

There was a pause, a shift within the room as if the atmosphere had moved. A gentle smile crept across her face, and it managed to relax Spencer. The lamplight cast a golden haze across the room and her face looked angelic in the low lighting. A breathy sigh left her lips with the force of an almost chuckle.

They settled into their respective evening routines, turning off their lights in tandem before letting sleep wash over them as gently as the ocean.

___

Spencer jolted awake after feeling a swift kick to his shin. Panic ripped through his body as his eyes scanned the moonlit room. He couldn’t see any imminent danger and his brain fought through the fog of post-sleep confusion. His senses kicked in and he instinctively reached a hand across the bed in search of her. She was shaking, sighs and almost gasps slipping through her lips at a barely audible volume.

He held his breath while he watched her movements waiting. Her shaking continued, a strangled mix of a moan and a yelp left her throat and her arm shot out searching for something. Spencer’s heart picked up its pace, his brows furrowed in concern. He considered reaching for the light but before his sleep-drenched body could she sobbed, a garbled, purely fearful ‘no’.

She tossed side to side so violently Spencer thought she might throw herself from the bed. Without overthinking it he sat up and leaned over her. His body halted the thrashing movements and, in her sleep, she grabbed his bicep with wincing firmness.

He held her, with gentleness and enough security that she couldn't throw herself around. One hand went to her hip the other held himself up. Her eyes shot open, sparkling in the darkness with the wetness of un-spilled tears, a scream stuck in her throat, retreating when her eyes recognised Spencer’s soft gaze above her.

‘Hey... Hey, it’s okay. It was just a nightmare. You’re okay.’ He breathed, hovering above her, he moved his hand from her waist to rest it at the side of her head as if to hold her in place and stop her from injuring herself. Her hand gripped his bicep loosely, the thin material of his pyjama shirt soft between the pads of her fingers. Her breathing matched the rapid beat of her heart and Spencer - without thinking - lifted his hand from the pillow to stroke the side of her face.

It was meant to be comforting, to show her that she wasn’t alone. But the gesture, in the cool pooling light of the late hour, seemed entirely too intimate. He watched as her breathing began to slow and her fear slipped out as a quiet whimper, leaving her in the quiet safety of their shared room, their shared bed.

‘I’m here…’ Spencer whispered, his hand lightly tracing the shape of her face. He felt a strange tightness in his chest as he watched her slowly find her way back to reality, her grip on his arm lessening.

His gaze lingered on her face, taking in the softness of her features in the dim light. The silence was deafening, yet comforting, a shared moment of vulnerability and intimacy in the aftermath of her nightmare. "You're safe," he reassured her, his voice barely a whisper in the quiet room.

He could smell her perfume, it mingled with the dusty smell of the motel, sweet and undeniably her. He didn't know how long they stayed like that; the seconds ticked by with no accountability. The moment felt suspended in time, her eyes went from glassy to sparkling in the pale light and he felt her relax under him. He finally pulled away, his hand lingering in the space between them for a moment before he retreated to his side of the bed, the echo of her nightmare still lingering in the quiet room.

It was Spencer’s turn for his heart to hammer in his chest. Her breathing had steadied and she shifted, hand stretching out to find Spencer's in the empty space between them. The reigniting of contact made Spencer's breath hitch in his throat. He turned to face her, but the fear in her eyes was replaced with something else. He didn't have to be a profiler to know what that look meant. It was the same look that haunted his own reflections.

At that moment, under the soft glow of the moonlight spilling through the window, Spencer thought how pretty she looked. Silence spilt between them, she swallowed gently, blinking her eyes rapidly to quell any tears building.

‘You kept me safe.’ Her voice came out as a whisper, a kind of admission with more behind it than just the nightmare.

Her words hung in the air, a quiet acknowledgement of the intimacy of the moment. He didn’t respond, because for once he didn’t know how to. He didn’t have a statistic or fact to explain how he felt at that moment. Instead, he squeezed her hand gently, a quiet acknowledgement.

‘Do you get them often?’ He whispered, genuine concern lacing through, the warmth seeping from his chest to his fingers where if he focused, he could feel her pulse. He wasn't sure if she'd even want to talk about it.

She paused, her gaze dropping to where their hands were intertwined. 'More often than I'd like.' Her voice was barely more than a whisper, a vulnerability seeping into her words that Spencer had never heard before. He realised just how close they were in that moment. So close he could see the exact shade of her eyes and the way her brow furrowed when she felt she was being too honest. She always seemed so confident, especially at work.

Being vulnerable was not a luxury many could afford in the BAU.

'And what about you, Spencer?' she asked, her gaze meeting his again. 'Do you ever have nightmares?' It was an unexpected question, one that caught him off guard.

'Sometimes,' he admitted, the truth slipping out before he could stop it. Her fingers lightly tightened around his as if bracing for impact. He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of his night terrors.

‘What are they about?’ She breathed, in a hushed way that sounded like she was almost afraid to ask.

‘You.’ His answer was faster and breathier than enunciated. As if that might take away from the confessional impact.

‘You have nightmares about me?’ She took a genuine pause, letting go of his hand and sitting up slightly so she was resting on her elbows looking down at him. He scrunched the duvet up in his now empty palm, holding himself.

‘No! Not about you. I mean, yes about you. About losing you. Like today, I thought I was going to lose you today, and without you, it’d be unbearable. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you like I do in my nightmares.’ His words were a whisper in the stillness of the night. Rambled at his usual speed as if the pace would disguise the weight of the feeling rising in his chest. It was panic, mixed with almost shame.

‘But you kept me safe.’ She stated, reaching out to unfurl his hand from the covers as if taking tension away from him like autumn takes the leaves from trees.

‘I don’t always manage to in my dreams.’ He sighed, looking up at her through his lashes. She was quite beautiful and in that second it scared him how much he cared.

"I guess we'll just have to keep each other safe, then," she murmured, a soft, genuine smile tugging at her lips. She rested a hand on his cheek and he instinctively leaned into her, as agreement settled over his features.

Spencer placed a hand atop hers as it stroked his face with more tenderness than he was sure he’d ever experienced. "I guess we will," he smiled a true and honest smile that happily made a home across his whole face.

They fell into a comfortable silence, and she lay back down beside him, this time with no space separating them. Their hands fell to their sides, fingers instinctively finding each other and intertwining. The fear and tension of the nightmare had evaporated, leaving the quiet intimacy that the two had just shared.

Sleep began to reclaim them and they both felt safer next to each other just from the knowledge that they’d be there, ready to protect each other from whatever nightmares the future held.

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine

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fanaticsnail · 27 days

Text

Dreaming of You

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,000+, 840+, 1,060+, 810+

Synopsis: They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Koby, Helmeppo, Smoker

Warnings: wet dreams, afab!reader, swearing, masturbation, dub con (Using your image to masturbate to), suggestive content, feelings, all individual 'x reader' drabbles, NSFW, 18+, MDNI.

Notes: Dreaming of You Masterlist Here. Sorry for any grammatical errors, this was written on my phone and it's been formatting very odd lately. Please read the warnings. Art link

Tag list: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

“Aww, baby,” your voice mocks him, looking down from your position sitting firmly straddling his lap, “You look so cute like this.” He groans at your quip, his brows furrowing and lips parted and panting. Lifting yourself up over him, you slowly and steadily roll your hips over his cock, sucking his weeping tip into your heat.

He drew his bottom lip between his teeth, his cheeks dusting with a shade of pink as he was held captive between your legs. Your grinding, writhing and lewd moaning had all other thoughts flee from his mind. All he wanted was to watch you bounce on his cock, spreading your slick down his shaft until he watched you shake in pure ecstasy.

Rocking your body harder atop him, he desperately clawed at the flesh of your hips and bucks his cock into you with reckless abandon. All he can hear is your soft giggles down at him, taunting him with your joy. You coo at him, encouraging him by meeting his thrusts as he repeatedly, harshly, buries himself within you.

“Don’t… h-hah… Don’t call me cute,” he growled through guttural and feral moans, desperately chasing his high with you continuing to ride his cock. The blunt tip slams deep within you, immediate contact prompting you to see stars in your vision and cry out at his vicious momentum. Choosing to taunt him further, you pry your chest away from his and splay your fingers over his chest.

“Why? You... mnngh… gonna show me who’s boss?” you smirk down at him, viciously riding him and prompting him to cry out in shock at your movements, “Gonna reprimand me formally, cutey? Gonna tell me to stop?”

“Don't stop. Don't stop!” He sobbed in desperation, the feeling of your grinding causing tears to form from the corners of his eyes. He sheathed himself deep within your abdomen, overcome by his need to use your body to chase his own high.

“Feels too good, hmm?” you pout down at him before curling your lips up into a cruel smirk, “Gonna cum already? I bet you look real cute when you cum.” He growled up at you, reaching one hand up to cup your cheek and draw you down into a bruising and bullying kiss. You squeak in surprise in his mouth as he flips you onto your back in a hasty drop against the mattress below.

He grabs your left ankle, throwing it over his shoulder and rails his throbbing cock within you deeper. You cry out at the change, his lips not leaving yours as his pace quickens. The hurried snap of his hips slapping yours had a sickening, slick sound reverberating in the room. His lips pant against your own as he feels closer to his release.

“S-Stop calling me c-cute,” he groaned, his eyes rolling back as he felt your walls contract around his throbbing cock, “I’m your s-superior officer, brat.” He bullied your body with his shaft, your cries music to his ears as he felt your body spasm and sucked him in further.

“D-Doesn't make you any less cute, sir,” you whined up at him, looking through your eyelashes at him. You praised him, clawing at his hips and his back as he quickened his pace further, “That’s it, cutey, show me who’s boss.” He growled at your taunt, hand flying up to cradle the back of your head and tugging firmly on your hair.

Just as he was about to bark his command to stop mocking him, his eyes went black with lust as he watched your brows rise to the peak of your forehead. Your eyes rolled back as your face contorted in ecstasy, your body sucking him deep within you with beckoning contractions.

“I’m c-cumming,” you mewl, your orgasm crashing over you in encumbering waves that had you drowning in pleasure, “I-I’m cumming so hard.” Your cries immediately prompt him to spill his own high deep within you, your body milking his cock with your rhythmic contractions. You whined his name, your praises falling freely from your lips as you began to go limp beneath him.

“Fuck,” he barked, his movements becoming sloppy and languid as he buried himself to the hilt within you, “Fucking take it. Take it.” His expulsion of sticky cum splashed in ropes deep in your overstimulated and abused cunt. His breath caught in his chest as he groaned with every pulse of release within your body, chanting your name like a prayer.

He memorized your face, the soft dewy flush on your cheeks and parted lips in the afterglow of your high. Your smile was hypnotic, your eyes holding nothing but love and adoration for him as you looked up into his face. As he smiled and leaned down to claim your lips beneath his, the image dissipated in a waft of scentless smoke. His shock was evident on his face, his desperation to feel your body had him clawing at the position you were laying prior with his heart ringing frantically within his ears.

“No, no, no,” he stuttered into the darkness, looking around the empty space for where you were moments prior, his heart screaming for you as he snapped his head around to search for you, “Where are you? Where are you?”

“Where are you?” His eyes snapped open as his body sprung up from its recline. His breath was heavy and labored, his eyes wide and frantic before he realized what had happened. With a soft gasp followed by a choked, embarrassed groan, he peers down to his stomach and witnesses a damp patch of sticky cum seep into his pants.

His cock twitched, his knob bobbing against the material of his uniform pajamas as it began to deflate beneath the fabric. Cringing with a soft tint of pink on his cheeks, he opened the waistband of his pants and growled at himself for his lack of discipline. The pearlescent release coating his cock, pooling down his shaft and leaking down his balls within his underwear, had him immediately angry at himself as he whispers a soft curse.

“Fuck...”

Koby

He cringes at his own cursing, shaking his head as he looks down at his abdomen before snapping the elastic back against his stomach. Drawing his fingers up to his face, he pinches his brow and huffs out a soft groan while massaging his face. He looks over to the remainder of the cots in the shared-living space at the marine base, quietly surveying the sleeping bodies for any signs of wake.

Eyes focussing on your hammock, he notices your chest rise and fall in steady momentum. Your breathing was deep, your sleep was peaceful, and Koby was wracked with guilt at thinking about an ensign serving beneath his command as a muse for pleasure in his dreams. Your sultry cries haunted him, his mind running away with him every time he shut his eyes to blink.

He laid back down, curling over in his cot and crossed his arms over his chest. His brows knit in a deep frown as he chastised himself for his intrusive thoughts. Tossing and turning, he was unable to fall back asleep due to the sensation of his warm release cooling in a sticky pool against his skin beneath his briefs.

“Awe, baby,” your voice mocked in his mind, his restless slumber worsening, “So pretty, captain. Show me who's boss, Koby,” he shook his head of your voice, drawing his forearms over his ears and scrunching his eyes tightly shut.

The image of your blissful face looking up at him with adoration and love before dissipating burnt his mind. His heart hammered in his chest as he felt the loss of your illusionary form in his arms.

He snuck a peek at you over his shoulder, noticing you remained blissfully ignorant of his lustful thoughts as you slept soundly beside your fellow marines. His craving for you caused him to pout, his eyes round and shameful. Deciding to get up and clean himself up, he did so before relieving the night watch shift from duties to take over for himself above deck.

The following morning, you strolled onto the deck and assumed you were to take over the duties from the cadet attending overnight. Your shock at being met by your pink-haired captain was evident in your eyes, following him with curiosity but otherwise choosing to remain professional in your stature.

“Captain,” you stated quietly, clicking your heels together as he turned to face you, “I am here to relieve you, sir.” You could’ve sworn a subtle pink blush flashed on his cheeks, but the warmth of the sun shining on the deck may have been the cause for such a hue.

“I-I-...” Koby stuttered over his words, his eyes wide and teeth almost chattering. You slipped your stance into ease as you awaited his orders. “...Good morning, Ensign.” Your brows furrowed, cocking your head to the side as you eyed him wearily.

“Good morning, sir,” you responded in a low and slow tone, “I know it is not my place, but is everything okay with you? You seem… out of sorts?” A soft, sheepish sigh fell from his lips as he rubbed the back of his head anxiously.

“I had something keeping me awake last night, couldn’t rest,” he uttered through a straight, joyless smile. His eyes opened, gazing deep into your own as his smile turned more genuine. “Forgive me for asking, just in case it’s something you’re not comfortable with,” he began to stutter and stumble over his words, “We’ve got some shore leave coming up, and I was wondering if you might be interested in sharing a meal together.”

Your eyes widened, quickly eyeing your captain over. His gaze never left you, but his smile began to nervously twitch as he waited for your response. Your smile grew up to light up on your cheeks in immediate joy.

“I would love to, captain,” you responded kindly, “With Helmeppo and the other officers, or just us?”

“Just us, ensign,” he clarified with a soft wave of his hands and a warm smile, “Maybe we could drop the titles and you could call me ‘Koby’, if you’re comfortable with that?” Your smile widens and your heart begins beating hard within your chest.

“I would like that very much, Koby,” you admitted. He reached his hand out towards you, taking your own within his palm and fingers. His hands felt warm, a soft tingle in his grip and apprehensive to show you favoritism and affection so openly. Holding his eyes over the soft touch he gave to you, the pink flush drew itself up to his cheeks once more.

“It’s a date then,” he confirmed softly, his smile growing as he drew his eyes up to meet with yours. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it with a soft cough. “All the best with your shift,” he gulped, testing your name over his tongue as he saluted you as he walked away from you.

“Sweet dreams, Koby,” you responded, assuming he was on his way to attempt to sleep once more.

You didn’t notice the stumble in his step and the deep crimson drawing up his neck and littering his face with it. He was immediately drawn back to his illusionary night muse, your well-wishes for his slumber having his mind repeat sections of his dream in a taunting echo.

Gulping back his shame and shaking his head to rid him of his thoughts, he continued on his shift with a pep in his step at getting to know you further over a meal together.

Helmeppo

He growled at himself, balling his hands into fists and thumping them down at his sides. The disgust he had in his own mind for distorting the image of you in his dreams had him livid, his heart twisting with guilt and anguish.

“I am a swordsman!” he harshly whispered to himself, his scowl deepening as his fury rose, “I am disciplined, and I shouldn’t allow pleasures and my own desires to dissuade my mission to-.” His monologue was cut off with a small rap at his door, his eyes immediately looking up to seek out its source.

Without thinking much of the stain lingering within his undergarments and pooling down his legs, he sprang up and hastily turned the knob and flung his door inwards. His anger was written in a low grimace, his blue eyes enraged and wide in fury.

“What do you-..!?” his barked question was halted as soon as his unshrouded eyes met with your own, looking up at him with concern and worry, “...-oh.” His lips immediately slit against his face in a thin line, his anger dissipating and filled with concern at your presence by his door.

“What are you doing here, ensign?” Helmeppo asked you, his voice quiet and cautious, “You should be asleep down the hall in your room. Why are you-?”

“-I heard you, sir,” you immediately relayed to him, “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but I thought it was better I checked in on you than the others.” His face immediately had a large blush spread up his face, gulping back a large mouthful of the dried lump forming in his throat.

“Y-You heard…” Helmeppo stuttered, his lip almost betraying him in a soft quiver. You searched his eyes, leaning your body closer to him with an outstretched hand intended for comfort. His confusion knit his brows in a deep frown, his lips parting as he was shocked by the tenderness you were presenting out to him.

Did you hear him whimper your name as he came untouched? Did you hear the way he cried for you, imagining your body beneath his as he chased his own ecstasy deep within your slick heat? Did you hear the way he mourned your loss as he awoke without you?

“I heard you wake from your nightmare, sir,” you halted his swirling thoughts, “I assumed the worst, expected you were experiencing the trauma of being kidnapped by your father and threatened with death by his axe-hand,” you relayed to him openly and honestly, “I thought you might need a friend.”

His expression immediately softened, unused to such kindness being shown to him other than under the traineeship of Garp and Bogard, or confiding in his friend turned Captain, Koby. As he gazed at you, his mind momentarily swelled with the illusion of your face depicting warmth in bliss - immediately shaking away those thoughts to focus on the real you. A soft smile twitched on his lips as he leaned against the wall beside the door.

“And why would you grant me friendship, ensign?” he asked, stunned by your words, “What have I done to deserve this offer of an ear to whisper my trauma into?” He attempted to keep a straight face as he felt the slick cum begin to tickle from the corner of his uniform briefs and down the inside of his thighs, praying that you wouldn’t look at his gray uniform sweatpants and notice the trail.

“Captain Koby is away from base without you,” you noted, flickering your eyes between his, “And the Vice-Admiral and his second in command have not been to this base in the past few months. Forgive me for assuming you would enjoy some company,” you gave him a polite nod, looking to the floor and holding your eyes there while you awaited his response.

Clicking his tongue at you, he stepped forward and raised his hand to your chin, lifting it to meet his eyes once more. He was hoping he was oozing enough confidence in his gaze to halt you from looking at the ooze beginning to trail down to his knee.

“I appreciate your offer, ensign. Truly,” he nodded, ensuring he held your gaze as he began to internally quiver in fear, “I have been a little…” he winced at his next few words, scolding himself before uttering quietly, “...pent up lately. I think I need to train a little harder, or go for a run.”

“I’d be happy to offer you company on your run, sir,” you admit to him with a soft smile, “I have also felt a little pent up lately. I feel like it would be more appropriate to run than to find reprieve at the bottom of a rum bottle,” you shake your head as you wince your own confession to him, “Or in the arms of an overnight lover, if I’m being truly honest with you.”

His eyes widen at your confession, his jaw falling slack at your admittance. He took another gulp at the dryness gathering in his throat as he flickered his eyes to the floor. He argued with himself as he avoided your gaze, managing to find the words and the courage to ask you a question that was gnawing at him the moment he felt anxious at the thought of losing you when he woke.

“If you’re looking for an overnight lover, I’d-...” his suggestion caught in his mouth, prompting a sharp cough to form behind his lips, “...I’d offer to aid you with that, if you’re interested. Unless you’d prefer a run, I could use a run after the night I had. I’m sorry if my suggestion is overstepping, I would never aim to make you uncomfortable at the base if you’re not wanting this kind of attention from me-.”

His rambling was halted by your warm lips pressing against his, his shock prompting a whimpered gasp to cry into your lips. He immediately warmed to the kiss, ushering you into his room and slamming the door shut behind you. Your smile was pressing against his lips, your squeak of joy prompting him to smile as he lifted you up to circle your hips over his waist had him immediately smitten.

Helmeppo was then plagued with another issue that chipped at the back of his mind. How was he going to clean up the memory of his dreams leaking down his pant leg before creating new ones within your arms? As you clasped your arms firmly around his neck and deepened the kiss with your tongue, he simply no longer cared.

Smoker

His fury down turned his lips in a rough grimace, his teeth clenching hard in a rough grind. He shook his head, immediately stepping out of his bed towards his bathroom. He filled his sink with fresh, cool water, splashing it over his face and allowing the icy droplets to pry him from his prior vision.

“So cute, Captain,” your voice mewled at him in a playful jest within his mind's eye, “So, so pretty when you blush for me. How much cuter do you get when you cum, hm?” He growled at the image, splashing water over his neck and letting it trickle down his shirt behind him.

“Cute?” He barked at his reflection, staring his steely orbs at his scarred face, “Cute?” His disgust at the distorted image of you giggling down at him over his lap had him ignited in fury.

“‘M not cute,” he huffs at himself, nose wrinkling up at the thought. He looked down to his waist, his gray sweatpants beginning to dampen with his release seeping into them.

“Gonna reprimand me, Captain?” your spectral taunt called to him, “Gonna show me who's boss, Smoker?” His cock twitched in interest, his teeth gritting tighter at the prospect of putting you in your place.

The way your uniform clung to your body had his imagination run wild with him. You were a desk-bound marine, your ability to catalogue with expert precision and haste had your services highly sought after. He was the lucky captain that landed you in his office, seeing your smile each morning, smelling your sweet perfume and hearing your laugh throughout the day, only to see your kind wave at the end of your shift as you left.

You had never given his mind any cause to lust for you, but it lusted regardless. He was consumed by the way your body would feel wrapped around his cock, hearing the smile in your laugh, and feeling the way your walls would beckon him within them with your slick arousal shepherding the way.

At that thought, he turned on the shower and switched it to the coldest temperature it could go. Peeling off his clothes with a grunt of disgust at himself, he stepped into the shower and allowed the coolness to drift down his body. In a desperate attempt to cool his raging thoughts, he gripped his cock in a cruel strangle.

Haunted by your moans and cries for him, his shaft swelled and knob shined with the hurried rush of blood. He girdled his shaft within his fist, attempting to choke back the thought of you to no avail.

“C’mon, baby,” his mind conjured your taunt within the cool steam rising from the shower, “I need you, sir. Fuck me. I bet you could make me behave if you just give in.” He began to pump his cock, huffing out pants with every rough piston.

“Shut up, brat,” he whispered in a gruff wince, “I'll f-fucking show you.” He beat his shaft harder, feeling the veins beneath swell and protrude within his palm. His translucent cum began to bead at the slit in his knob as his jaw fell slack.

“C-Captain Smoker, please can I cum on your cock?” Your spectral image conjured for him, his cock involuntary twitching at the thought. His nob swelled and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth to halt his moans.

Seeing the dewy, blissed-out sheen on your face, as your spectral form begged for him to satisfy you by answering, had him rolling his hips into his palm and picking up his pace. He squeezed at his tip, circling it down against his shaft as he pictured you asking so beautifully for permission to cum.

“You want to cum on your captain's cock?” He huffed to his conjured mirage, “You wanna feel good, do ya, brat?” He fisted his palm harder, picturing your walls contracting with the proximity of your own ecstacy.

“Oh, f-fuck,” he cried out your name, beginning to spill over into his palm, the water pummeling his shoulders from above him, “Oh fuck, oh fuck. Cum for me. Cum for me, baby.” He pictured your face contorting in pleasure, your lips falling into a soft, smiling ‘O’ as he finally gave you permission to cum.

Ribbons of his hot spend splattered against the shower wall, his guilt seeping in as his bliss tapered out. He groaned for you, picturing your face as you came down from your high and chastising himself for degrading you in his imagination.

“Fuck,” he whispered his curse, angling the showerhead over the wall to wash it clean of his shame before washing himself with his all in one shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel.

As he concluded his shower and dried himself off with a towel, he took a mental note to do a task for your benefit to satisfy his guilt. Maybe some flowers to highlight your desk, or providing the office with a lunch on his Berry might be appreciated.

Shaking his head at himself, he wrapped his towel around his waist as he drew out twin cigars and placed them between his teeth. Igniting the end, he smiled as he came to terms with his new infatuation. His new quest was to attempt to woo you, get to know you better, and treat you with the adoration he so desperately craved to give you.

Exhaling with a smile, he muttered to himself with a soft, crackled growl, "I have a lot of work to do."

#one piece #x reader #koby #helmeppo #smoker #koby x reader #helmeppo x reader #smoker x reader #op koby #op helmeppo #op smoker #one piece smut #one piece drabble #afab!reader #one piece marines #one piece marines smut

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rosyblooom · 2 months

Text

blooming season 🌷 (2) | ln4

"grief is just love with no place to go”

PAIRING: lando norris x fem nepo!reader WORD COUNT: 2.5k WARNING(S): mentions of death & blood, swearing SUMMARY: four years after she fled monaco, y/n is back on the anniversary of her father's death. however, an unexpected encounter with an f1 driver disrupts her plans.

part 1 | part 2 <- | part 3

You're not sure how much time has passed since you entered the car, but it doesn't matter. It feels like an eternity. Everything feels overwhelming today—you're the mouse in a world full of elephants, and you don't know how to cope. You want to scream, but your voice feels strained; you want to cry, but there are no tears left. All you can do is sit idly in what feels like a tiny lifeboat in an ocean rippled by giant waves crashing straight at you.

"Feeling any better now?" Lando's voice interrupts the silence, pulling you out of your daze.

You snap your head sideways to face the brunette boy, your brows furrowing as you simply stare at him.

"Hey," he sneaks a quick glance at you before focusing back on the road. "You've been quiet the whole ride. Are you feeling any better now?"

Narrowing your eyes, you fix him with a wary glare before rolling your eyes and bringing your feet to the edge of your seat, hugging your knees tightly. "What's it to you?" you finally respond, gazing through the window.

"Look, I'm trying to make things less… tense here. You could, you know, meet me halfway or something."

"How about you stop trying," you snap, glaring at the side of his face. "Just be quiet. Let's get your hand wrapped up, and then you can just leave."

Lando swallows, his eyes darting between you and the street ahead. "I don't think—"

You cut him off sharply, "Obviously, you just missed the freaking turn."

"What? No, I didn't, look," he points at the GPS that's currently rerouting. "Oh."

"Yeah…"

"No need to worry, it's already figuring out a new way. See?"

"Another inconvenience?" you ask, annoyance laced in each word. "Yeah, actually I do."

Lando purses his lips and drums his fingers against the steering wheel. "I'm guessing I'm the first inconvenience?"

"Wow, you can connect dots," you deadpan, sinking into your seat and resting your forehead against the vibrating window.

*********

The elevator door dings open, and you release a relieved breath upon finding its carriage empty. Lando enters first, settling into one side, while you press your back into the opposite wall.

"Let me guess," Lando begins, trailing his fingers up and down the row of twenty buttons, "your floor is the—"

"Sixth," you interject, your patience wearing thin as you take a step towards him and push the number six, causing it to light up.

Lando sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, nodding. "That was going to be my guess, you know?" He glances down at you, his gaze meeting yours briefly before drifting elsewhere.

Feeling hyperaware of his closeness, particularly the warmth emanating from him, you shift back into the opposite corner of the elevator, but he follows.

Your brow furrows as you grunt, "Personal space, remember?"

"Hold on a second." You feel the gentle touch of his hand atop your head, and moments later, he plucks something green from your hair, fixing you with a pointed look as he extends his palm to you. "A four-leaf clover," he exclaims, excitement glinting in his eyes. "Make a wish on it."

You swat his hand away from your face. "No thanks."

"What, there's nothing you want to have? Nothing you want to wish for?"

Sure, you have a wish—only one. You want your dad back, you want your old life back. The one that felt like summer every year, when there were no cold days.

Feeling the tightness in your throat as your vision blurs, you quickly blink away the incoming tears—you don't remember the last time you cried—and remark sharply, "No, I don't—nothing that's possible anyway. Keep it... or don't, I really don't care."

Just in time, the elevator door dings open, and you rush out of the tight space, desperate for more room.

*********

Fumbling with your key, it takes a few attempts before you finally manage to slot it into the keyhole, agitation coursing through your veins. With a satisfying click, you push the door open, only to find the apartment strangely empty.

Lando squeezes in behind you, causing you to stumble slightly before regaining your footing, shooting him a glare.

He strides down the hallway, with you trailing close behind, and into the brightly lit living room. The space is perfectly tidy, almost unnaturally so—there's not a single thing out of place.

"You sure you live here?" Lando glances back at you, eyebrows raised.

"No, I don't," you reply flatly, "this is actually where I bring idiot boys with no sense of self-preservation to kill."

Lando chuckles, his grin widening slowly. "So, you do have jokes then?"

You shrug and head down another hallway, making a beeline for your bedroom. As you push the door open, memories come flooding back—pictures of your dad adorn the walls, nestled in frames atop the dressers. It's like stepping into a time capsule; everything remains as it was four years ago, yet now it feels tainted.

Without wasting a moment's breath, you flip each picture frame on its head. The images taunt you with their stillness, incapable of conjuring the scent of Dad's favourite cologne or the resonance of his soothing voice. Pictures can't replicate the warmth of his hugs.

Once done, you kneel by your bedside table and retrieve a pair of scissors and bandages from the drawer.

"Now this looks more like it," a voice remarks behind you, causing you to startle and slam the drawer shut, rising to your feet. "This actually looks like someone lives here.”

Balling your empty hand into a fist, nails digging into your palm, you grit out, "I didn't tell you to follow me in here."

Lando raises his hands defensively. "I'm sorry, I was just worried. You were gone for a while, but uhm," he swallows, eyes flicking to the scissors you're clutching.

"Seriously?" you brandish the scissors, "I'm not going to stab you, if that's what you're thinking."

"Sure..."

With a sigh, you take a step forward, but he instinctively retreats, prompting you to shake your head and let out a chuckle—it's been awhile since you've done that.

"It's for the bandage," you remark, crossing your arms. "Also, you do realise you're the intruder here. If anyone should be scared, it's me. But I'm not a scaredy-cat, am I?"

"Neither am I," he insists, dropping his arms.

"Good. Let's head back to the kitchen, then."

*********

Lando leaps onto the counter, eliciting a groan from you as you cut the gauze into a shape that fits the wound on his palm.

Swiftly retrieving a clean tea towel from the cupboard, you situate yourself in front of him, arm extended. "Hand?"

He complies immediately, dropping his hand into your palm, and you begin to dab the skin around the cut dry. Once sure nothing is wet anymore, you reach for the gauze and carefully place it over the wound.

Lando hisses, causing you to tilt your head up, only for a sharp pain to suddenly spread atop your head. You both release loud groans, your hands instinctively moving to massage the throbbing spot on your head, while you watch Lando rubbing his chin.

"What the hell is your problem?" you finally manage after a while.

His eyes widen. "What the hell is my problem? You're the one who suddenly moved," he gestures to you, "you could've given me a heads up or something."

"How was I supposed to know you'd be hovering over me like some weirdo?" you retort.

Lando offers no response; instead, his lips gradually curve into a full-blown grin as he begins to chuckle.

You don’t react, simply staring at him blankly.

“C’mon, don’t lie now,” he says, tilting his head with a smile, “That was kinda funny, you have to admit.”

Despite theatrically rolling your eyes, a small smile betrays your true feelings. Still, you simply shrug and say, "Whatever."

"Alright, cool," Lando nods with a grin. "I'll take that. I'll take a 'whatever' anytime over all the other stuff you've been saying."

Taking the bandage from the counter, you close the gap between you, freeing his hand and delicately wrapping the bandage around the injury.

"You make me sound like a bitch," you mutter, flipping his hand over to inspect the wound. "I'm not—or at least I don't mean to be."

Lando props his free hand onto the counter behind him and leans back, raising his eyebrows. "To be honest, I thought that was the whole vibe you were going for."

You pause, setting the bandage roll on the counter and narrowing your gaze at him. Before you can respond, he quickly adds, "Hey, no judgment from me! I can handle difficult."

"Very funny," you say, shaking your head with a smile as you toss the tea towel into his face.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Lando chuckles, retrieving the towel from his face and sliding it out of reach. When his gaze returns to you, his smile fades, and he simply stares, causing your expression to falter and your eyebrows to furrow.

"What do you think you’re looking at?" you snap, feeling as if you're suddenly trapped in a glass cage.

Leaning forward, a slow smile dances along Lando's lips. "You’re very pretty when you smile," he nods, "you should do that more often, it suits you."

Your expression falters, and you feel your heart sink with guilt. Today marks the fourth anniversary of your dad's passing—the first time you’ve felt strong enough to acknowledge it, to face the hurricane head-on—and here you are, spending it laughing, as if it's not a day plagued with immeasurable sadness and pain.

Isn’t that selfish?

It sure as hell feels like it.

Just like that, the walls rise once more as you fix Lando with a blank expression, swiftly grabbing the bandage roll off the counter. "Let’s just get this done, okay?" Your voice is strained—it scratches at your throat.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asks, confusion swimming in his bright eyes.

You swallow hard and grasp his hand, continuing to wrap up the wound wordlessly.

"I’m sorry," Lando tries again, "If I said something wrong, I’m sorry."

Sighing, you shake your head, and though you feel his gaze piercing your skull, you refuse to tilt your head up to meet his eyes head-on. "Nothing to apologise for," you state quietly, focusing on the task at hand.

This is exactly why you keep to yourself—your pain is yours alone to bear; it's unfair to burden others with it. You're not the same carefree, easily agreeable Y/N you once were back then. That part of you left the world today, four years ago, with your dad.

"Done," you declare, cutting the excess bandage and patting it down. Then, you create some much-needed distance between yourselves, heading towards the sofa and collapsing onto it.

"You know the way out," you yell, squeezing your eyes shut as you focus on your breathing.

The calm doesn’t linger for long, though, when you fail to hear footsteps or the door clicking open. You shoot upright, only to find Lando at the tap, an empty glass in his hand.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" you ask, propping your elbows on the couch’s backrest.

"Getting some water," he gestures toward the faucet and flicks it on. "I’m thirsty."

"You can do that at your own place."

"What, go home for water and then come back?" he shoots you a perplexed look before taking a swig from his glass. "Seems a bit extreme, don’t you think?"

Rising to your feet slowly, you make your way to the opposite end of the counter and lean against it, resting your hands on the cool surface. "And why would you even come back here?"

"For you to check up on me," he explains, waving his bandaged hand in the air, "make sure I don’t develop an infection. I’ve had one before, it was awful."

As if momentarily blinded by sunlight, you blink more than necessary as you process his words. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The cut, it could get infected after being exposed for so long. So, I think we should wait out the day," he shrugs, "just to make sure it doesn’t get worse."

"And why can't you just go to the hospital?" you press, confusion evident in your voice.

His lips curl into a sly smile as he scratches the back of his neck. "I don't know, you seem to know what you're doing. I trust you."

His admission knots your stomach—you can't recall the last time someone willingly stuck by you after all your attempts at self-sabotage.

You're a pusher. You push and push until people fall off the edge of the cliff, leaving you in the comfort of yourself. So, this catches you off-guard. But strangely enough, the proposal doesn’t make you squirm with disgust, but rather... want? You're not quite sure; it's an old feeling, one you struggle to understand.

"Fine, okay," you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief at your own acquiescence. "I think you're being dramatic, but fine."

Lando nods, a grin spreading slowly across his face. "Great."

The weight of today bears down on you, a stark reminder of your initial plans—ones you can't simply reschedule. No, these you can’t ignore; they're a boulder in your road. Today is the day you will visit your dad; today is the day you will see his tombstone for the very first time.

"I've got somewhere to be tonight," you say, twisting your fingers into painful yet somehow soothing shapes. "So you'll have to leave then. And I’ve got to run some errands throughout the day, so you can, I guess, join me... or you can just stay here—stay out of my fucking bedroom—and yeah, watch TV or whatever it is you do."

"Got any food?" Lando inquires, swinging open your refrigerator doors to reveal painfully empty shelves, save for a lone box of leftover takeout from last night.

"That's a negative," he answers his own question, closing the doors with a sigh before turning to face you. "Can we grab some food while we're out running errands?"

Your stomach grumbles in agreement before you can respond, so you simply nod, snatching up your keys. "We should go now, then."

Lando falls into step beside you in the hallway, and you shoot him a sideways glance, adding, "We'll handle my errand first, then we can grab food."

He holds the door open for you, gesturing for you to pass through. "No complaints from me."

4:05 ───────────ㅇ─ 4:28

TAGS: @leclercdream @evitarubio @landossainz @lottef1 @averymjn

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dearlyjun · 11 months

Text

— study date 𖤐 choi beomgyu

summary: you and your boyfriend have a homework date to spend time together, but he can’t keep his hands to himself.

pairing: nonidol!/collegeboyfriend!beomgyu x afab!reader

genre: college students au, smut (18+ readers only pls!!)

word count: 1.5k

warnings: beomgyu is very sweet, use of pet names, lots of touching, whimpering, whining, fingering, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex (umm don’t do this), beomgyu is kind of a menace, swearing, beomgyu hits it from the back lolll, cumshot lol, some kissing but not much surprisingly? oh and glasses beomgyu!!! think that is all.

authors note: I have been having insufferable beomgyu brain rot and I blacked out and wrote this. not proofread because I’m lazy so if you see a mistake no you don’t. I made the reader a stem girly because well, if I do anything it’s gonna be representing my fellow stem girls!! blueprints are kind of boring…

quick links: taglist | masterlist

—

“are you comfortable?” beomgyu sweetly asked you, whilst typing on his computer.

“Mhm.” You hummed, glancing at the time in the bottom right corner of his screen. 10:40pm. “I’m almost finished.”

Both of you were doing homework. Beomgyu typing an essay on his computer, while you were studying blueprints. You were sitting on his lap to keep him company, and you just wanted to be near him. Sometimes with your busy school schedules this was the only time you got to be together; both enjoying each others company while working on assignments.

He reached down, giving your bare thigh a squeeze. It slightly startled you. You placed your hand over his, making him smirk to himself before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Gyu it’s getting late.” You hoped you could get him to save his file and be done. “Don’t you have an early class tomorrow?”

“No, remember sweetheart?” His voice was right in your ear, making you shift in his lap. “My professor is on vacation. So my class isn’t mandatory tomorrow. I might not even go.”

Beomgyu reached for something on his desk, putting his arm around your waist; his palm landing near your rib cage. His hand placement made you very aware that underneath your loose t shirt, you weren’t wearing a bra.

You looked down at your homework, twirling your pencil and your mind now wandering. Thinking about all of the things that Beomgyu would be doing with his mouth and tongue against your skin. His keyboard clicks were white noise until he cleared his throat, pulling you from your trance.

“Something on your mind?” Beomgyu sweetly kissed you by your ear, shifting in his chair slightly.

“No, just doing math in my head.” You joked, trying to play it off that you actually were doing that.

“Math?” Beomgyu laughed, one of his hands finding purchase on your inner thigh. He knew what he was doing. Damn him. “What kind of math?”

You didn’t really have an answer for him. “Trying to figure out how much time I have left to study for this test.”

“When is it?” Beomgyu asked as his other hand slipped the slightest bit underneath your shirt.

“Next week. Like Wednesday I think?” You desperately tried to ignore him.

There was a moment of silence before Beomgyu leaned close to you, brushing your hair away from your face.

“How long is it going to take for you to tell me what’s really on your mind, hm?”

If it wasn’t for Beomgyu’s hold on you, you swore you could have fallen onto the floor.

“Beomgyu.” Your voice came out whinier than you wanted it to.

“That’s a start.” Beomgyu chuckled to himself, smirking as he kissed behind your ear a few times. “Go on.”

You leaned into him; your back against his chest. “I want you to touch me. Fuck me. Do whatever you want to me.”

You felt Beomgyu suck in a harsh breath. “Such nasty things coming from your mouth. Take your pants off.”

He was referring to your black sweatshorts, which you gladly let fall to the ground.

You were back in his lap, back against his chest like before. Beomgyu quickly saved his paper on his computer, then clicked out of it. He leaned back in his chair, then changed your position on his lap so your legs were open.

You knew you were almost embarrassingly wet for absolutely no reason at all, feeling your arousal close to your inner thighs.

Beomgyu reached down, brushing over your clit through your cotton panties. Your body shuddered. You had no idea you would be this sensitive already.

“So sensitive for me and I haven’t done anything yet.” Beomgyu spoke, his voice low and deep. “Needy for me. I like it.”

He slipped his hand into your panties, dipping his fingertips into your folds. You were soaked; you could hear it already.

You leaned your head back against Beomgyu, letting out a quiet whine.

“Fuuuuuck.” Beomgyu swore, drawing out the words. “You’re soaked. Oh my god.”

“Please. Please. Please.” You reached one of your hands behind his neck, pulling him closer to kiss him.

Your pleading went straight to his ego, as if it needed a boost.

“Please?” Beomgyu didn’t break eye contact with you. He removed his hand from inside your panties, pulling the fabric away and making you feel a rush of cool air along with hearing what could only be the elastic ripping. “My smart girl can’t form a full sentence?”

You knew what he was doing. He would always give into you, but you had to work for it first.

His fingers circled your clit slowly, then he gave a few firm taps. You squeezed your eyes shut, whining again.

“Hey, hey look at me.” Beomgyu’s voice had a sweetness to it, and you looked at him.

“Don’t tease me, please.” You were surprised that you were able to get the words out. “God, I’m gonna cry.”

Beomgyu smirked, kissing you on the neck near your jaw as his fingers circled your clit again. “I’ll make you feel good, baby. Don’t worry.”

Finally, Beomgyu slipped his middle and ring finger past your folds and into your cunt, pressing your walls hard.

You let out a rather loud moan, grabbing onto his arm as well as the desk chair you were both in.

“Yeah. Feels good doesn’t it?” Beomgyu mumbled, slipping a third finger inside of you. You wanted to scream. Of course it felt good.

“Yes. Fuck. Oh god, yes.” You finished the sentence with a whimper, biting down onto your lip. Your walls were clenching his fingers already and he has just started.

“Fuck. My girl is clenching my fingers already.” Beomgyu swore, smirking. He quickly pulled his fingers out, sloppily rubbing your clit a few times before fucking them into you again. “Can I make you cum just from this?”

Stupid question, because as much as you wanted to prove him wrong, you were so close.

You nodded, tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

Beomgyu was so ready to make you cum on his fingers, until he changed his mind.

“Nah. Changed my mind. You’re gonna cum on my cock instead. Get up.”

Beomgyu pulled away from you, helping you to your feet in front of him. He removed his cardigan sweater, and quickly took his glasses off.

“Bend over the desk for me.” Beomgyu instructed you, pushing away his chair to give him more room before lowering his sweatpants and underwear.

You did as he said, moving your homework out of the way and leaned over the desk. You felt Beomgyu’s fingers move the fabric of your underwear out of the way again.

Then, you felt him align the head of his cock with your entrance, making you suck in a breath.

“Shit, you’re so wet.” Beomgyu gripped your waist with one of his hands, while he used his other hand to guide himself inside of you.

He bottomed out in the first thrust, letting out a sigh of pleasure. Beomgyu barely gave you time to adjust before he formed a rhythm.

“Fuck.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “You’re so fucking–“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence.

“Fuck me, gyu.” You whined, knowing he liked to hear his nickname. “Your cocks so big. Feels so good.”

“Yeah, you like it?” Beomgyu started fucking you harder, making you whimper. “Tell me how much.”

He kicked one of your feet for you to put them apart further. You knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Fuck.” You sounded like you were about to cry, practically laying on top of his desk. “It’s so good. You fuck so good.”

Beomgyu leaned down to you, now hitting deeper with his cock. Your walls clenched him as your legs started to shake.

“My girl’s gonna cum isn’t she?” He brushed away your hair to see your face, practically in tears.

“Uh-huh.”

Beomgyu snaked his hand around to play with your clit, and then it was over.

“Fuck, gyu.” You sobbed, practically trembling beneath him as he continued fucking you through your orgasm; chasing his own.

“Tell me, baby.” Beomgyu’s hips stuttered as your core clenched him as you rode your high. “Gonna cum in your sweet pussy if that’s okay.”

You always said yes, but you found it sweet how Beomgyu always asked for permission first.

“Please, please.” You rutted into him, desperate for it. “Wanna feel you, please.”

Beomgyu combed back his sweaty bangs with one of his hands. “Fuck, I’ll give it to you.”

He let out the hottest moan you’ve ever heard as you felt him finish inside of you; making you bite down onto your bottom lip.

Beomgyu was panting before he pulled away, admiring the mess he’d made of you. He fixed your panties, before turning you around to kiss you sweetly.

“I think we should get back to studying.” Beomgyu said with a smile on his face. “I think someone has some homework she has to finish.”

—

tags: @dearlyjoonie @tyunsrkive @mhasimp666

#choi beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu smut #beomgyu smut #txt smut #txt x reader #tomorrow x together smut

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sugrhigh · 4 months

Text

BOY NEXT DOOR - ( c.s )

part two

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- swearing, drinking, no smut (yet 😁)

neighbor/hockey!chris x fem!reader

a/n: WELCOME TO MY FIRST REAL SERIES! i have a lot of ideas for this cuz i love this trope dearly so buckle up! more parts will come soon. also working on a tattooartist!reader x matt series (thank you anons) that will also be out eventually. in the mean time if you have smaller/specific reqs you’d like to see, my inbox is open babies! and if u just wanna say hello or ask a question i’m here xoxo

the music booms over the speakers inside the house next door, just like it always does on the weekends (and occasionally on thursdays too). it always drives you up a wall, but tonight it’s particularly bad.

you sit up slightly in bed, absentmindedly wondering who the fuck is on aux. you’re not sure why the thought crosses your mind, but you know it’s not chris, because these picks are horrendous.

it’s already past two in the morning, not to mention it’s the middle of the week. you haven’t been able to get a wink of rest, even with your headphones blaring at full volume. usually they do the trick, but tonight’s party is relentless, demanding to be heard.

wine wednesday, you think to yourself sourly.

neither of your roommates are home; they’re both off with their significant others, somewhere that’s not here, listening to fuckface and his friends get drunk.

you’re usually pretty passive about the noise, because they provide free alcohol for you guys when you show up and typically give you notice that they’re throwing something.

but tonight it’s just too fucking much. you’re tired, and groggy, and very much so still in your silky pajama bottoms and oversized t-shirt, but you don’t give a shit.

you jam your feet into some sneakers and grab a jacket, clutching it close to your chest as you head down the stairs to the main level of your own house.

you pass the dark living room, shadows leering in the corners as you’re guided only by the light coming from the street lamps outside.

you step onto the porch and the cold smacks you in the face, breath fogging up the air. it’s the middle of january in boston, and the expanse of dead grass between your houses crunches under your feet as you tread toward the front door.

the rest of the street is quiet, aside from the party. but they’re all senior hockey players, and it’s the beginning of their last semester, so what else can you expect?

besides maybe some basic human decency every once in a while. in fact, you’re so frustrated that you’re going in without backup, and without a real plan of any kind.

for some reason, once you get up the three steps to their door, you pause to knock. as if anyone would hear you over the music, or care enough to open the door for someone who’s fucking knocking.

so you twist the handle next, and it’s unlocked. of course.

it opens to a hazey front hallway that you recognize, stairs to the left hand side, blocked off by a young-looking guy you assume is probably a freshman on duty.

the front area is full of people, pressed against the walls, chatting over the music. well, more like yelling over it.

you can smell weed, which confuses you slightly. you know none of them smoke, not during the season at least. they usually don’t let anyone do it inside the house, so it must be an allowance for a girl.

you’re already getting strange looks as you step inside, which is fair. your shorts are hidden by the length of your shirt and jacket, so you’re just legs and shoes. you’ve got no makeup on, and you didn’t check your hair before you came.

but you swallow the lump in your throat, because it doesn’t matter right now anyways.

you shift your way through the crowd, gaze skipping over the people as you finally reach the dark living room. multi-colored strobes flash, lighting up the hoards of tipsy college kids dancing on the soaked wooden floor. furniture is pushed aside to make room, though the championship banner from last year still hangs on the wall.

his eyes find you before yours find him.

he stares at you across the tops of people's heads, standing by one of the couches that’s shoved against the wall. one of his roommates, connor, is leaned back on the cushions, watching the two girls they were talking to pass a joint back and forth.

but he’s no longer focused on anyone else, because he’s spotted you across the room, and he thinks this is the most disheveled he’s ever seen you. your angry eyes lock in on him seconds later, and they narrow instantly.

you beeline toward him, right through a group of people that are half-dancing along to the terrible playlist.

he lifts his eyebrows at your attitude, but not in fear. he’s actually a little impressed. his friends are watching you warily, just as confused as everyone else who saw you walk in.

he can’t help but stare at your legs as you finally reach him, admiring how cute you look in your pajamas, pale pink bottoms peeking out underneath your shirt with every step. he briefly wonders if you’re even wearing a bra.

then you open your mouth, and the fantasy is over.

“what time is it, chris?” you snap at him, one hand balled into a fist, the other clutching your phone.

“i don’t know, but i have a feeling you’re going to tell me.” he takes a sip of his drink to try and hide his grin.

it takes a lot of self control to keep yourself from slapping it out of his fucking hand, just because of how smug he looks. you hold up the screen to his face.

two twenty-two in the morning. chris almost laughs.

“the answer is way too fucking late to be having a party on a wednesday.” you reply, bringing the device back down to rest by your thigh.

“why didn’t you come? i missed you.” he pouts.

you glance over at the people on the couch, at the girls who are still making eyes at you as they converse with connor. he’s giving you a weird look too, as if no one could possibly understand why you’re here like this.

“yeah, sure you did,” you turn back to him, “now shut this shit down before i call the cops.”

chris puts his hands up in surrender, though he knows this is an empty threat just as much as you do.

“wow, somebody’s grumpy.”

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest self-consciously. “i’m serious. tell the puck bunnies to go home for the night or i’ll do it myself.”

he takes a tiny step closer, just a few inches, and yet it still seems suffocating. he looks too good, clad in a simple black tee and jeans, and he’s studying your face with the fire of a thousand suns.

“you don’t have to be jealous because other girls are here. you know you’re my number one.” chris replies easily.

even though his tone remains light, his expression is serious now. it enrages you more, that he thinks he has so much control over you.

“as if i give a fuck. i just want to sleep, so the choice is yours. police,” you wave the hand that holds your phone slightly, “or call it off.”

chris takes another sip of his drink, tipping it back so he can finish the rest of it in one foul swoop. then he nods his head, like he’s admitting defeat.

“fine. i’ll send everyone home.”

you can feel the relief creeping over you, knowing that you don’t have to actually get law enforcement involved. “thank yo—”

“on one condition.” he interrupts, and you furrow your brows.

“no conditions, chris. we’re not bartering right now.”

“come to the game on friday and we can hang out after for a bit. i’ll even give you a practice jersey to wear.” he offers, and the trademark smirk has reappeared on his face.

lights dance across his features, morphing his expression every few seconds. you just stare, because for once, you’re actually not sure what game he’s playing.

“what, can’t get a date without having to resort to blackmail?” you taunt, and he laughs.

“please, i don’t date. and i’d hardly consider this blackmail. just think of it as getting to know your friendly neighbor on a more personal level.”

there’s a humorous glint in his eye, one that’s daring you to say yes. what’s there to be afraid of? all you have to do is watch hockey, eat some popcorn from the concession stand, and deal with his attitude for an hour afterwards.

you’re still not sure what chris is getting out of this, or why he’s insisting that you need to be there, but at this point you don’t care. all you can think about is salvaging the rest of your sleep.

“alright, fine. now you have five minutes to get everyone out, and i better not hear any more shitty remixes for the rest of the week.” you point an accusatory finger at him and he shrugs, though he’s clearly content that you caved in.

“your wish is my command, princess.”

you turn on your heel to head back outside, retracing your steps from earlier as you slip through the mob. you half expect chris to follow, just because he’s annoying, but he doesn’t.

the overhead lights are coming back on now, and you can hear deep voices shouting, combined with collective groans from the crowd as they all realize they’re being kicked out.

luckily you make it out the front door first, and you jog back up the steps to your own place to get out of the cold.

you’ve only been inside for seconds when your phone buzzes in your hand.

chris

see you friday

sweet dreams ;)

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #hockey au #neighbor au #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #fanfic #new series #enemies to lovers

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koocycle · 11 months

Text

screw up; over wine | drabble i.

synopsis; jungkook wants to make your first date special and unlike any other night you’ve had before. while determined to win your heart over with a fancy, romantic dinner that includes sweet, tasty chardonnay and medium rare steaks, not everything goes according to his plan.

pairing; boyfriend! jungkook x model! female reader

word count; 4.1k

genre; fluff, baby angst probably

warnings; none

timeline; this drabble is set 7 years ago, at the very start of the over wine couple’s relationship where jungkook is a finance major and oc is still active in the modelling industry. they’re both in their early 20s here!

author’s note; a thank you drabble for all the support and encouragement i’ve been receiving the past two weeks!! also a lil drabble for the people who aren’t a fan of angst and still punched through that 38k last chapter :) enjoy this little tidbit of the start their relationship before it all became messy and went downhill

series masterlist | over wine universe

The sound of the lively chatter at the tables surrounding you had gone over your head before. The clinking of cutlery amplifies and bubbles of laughter fill the air the moment Jungkook excuses himself to the bathroom and all of a sudden, you watch yourself become a nerve-wrecking mess, unsure what to do the minute you’re left alone and forced to listen to the couples at the tables on your sides. You can feel their eyes on you, noticing the way they keep glancing at you with some sort of pity in their eyes. The bustling restaurant suddenly feels much more crowded and you can’t help but feel exposed with him now gone, the bill at your table staring back at you like it tells you everything Jungkook didn’t have the balls to say.

It’s only when the waitress comes back a second time around when you finally search your handbag for your card and hand it to her, plastering a smile on your face that is supposed to copy the one you were previously wearing. You could tell she was getting impatient before, her hair tied into a bun so slick, you were sure she was unable to move the brows at her forehead.

She’s been eyeing you and Jungkook ever since you came in and sat down, it was hard not to notice, seeing the way her lips pursed as she tongued the front of her teeth when Jungkook ordered you the most expensive Chardonnay on the menu. And at the end, when he left for the bathroom about five seconds after he read the price at the bottom of the receipt, you could swear you saw a vein pop at her forehead. It was funny back then. Though now that he’s been gone for nearly ten minutes, each and every bit of humor has left your body just like you watched it happen to that woman before. The inkling feeling at your chest enlarges each time somebody locks eyes with you and shares that sorrowful, pitiful smile, and you lose it.

You had a good time tonight, that much you can’t deny, and you refuse to be pitied. Especg not by a bunch of strangers. You know everyone at the restaurant had seen it at this point. Seen the way Jungkook had leaned over the table with crossed arms supporting him while that charming, boyish smile painted his face, resulting in a flush to your cheeks as you tried to hide it and blame it on the wine that must have gotten to your head. You felt luckier than anyone else in the room only half an hour ago, where you thought the dates around you couldn’t compare. Like they couldn’t have gotten better than yours by the end of the night.

Yes, embarrassment fills your chest when the waitress hands you back your card and flashes you a knowing smile. However, you refuse to let it bring you down. Humiliation draws over you as you stand up from your seat and make your way over to the corner Jungkook disappeared behind, each step of your stiletto heels to the restaurant’s floor tiles accentuating the flow of your mini dress against your ass. You know eyes are on you, but you ignore it and keep your head high. If you had driven here yourself, you probably would have let the guy rot in the men’s restroom until they had found him, though for now, you still need him for that twenty-minute ride back home.

And it’s not like you mind paying for tonight’s dinner. As a matter of fact, if Jungkook had simply asked you to cover the bill, you know you would’ve reached out for your wallet without a second thought. He made you feel at ease from the start on; ensuring your beef was cooked to perfection, sitting you down on the booth while he did so on the chair. Even double checking whether or not your glass of Chardonnay was sweet enough to your liking, if you needed another napkin at your neck so you wouldn’t stain that pretty little dress, and if you weren’t getting cold right beneath that airconditioning screwed to the ceiling–ready to run back to the car to get your jack from the backseat.

That’s right, you wouldn’t have minded, because Jungkook has been perfect all night. And no matter how many times you thought to yourself “God damn, you’re having a blast and so is he,” you wouldn’t have minded if at the end of the night he’d be like, “hey, this probably isn’t working out and we should never do this again.” Because, sure, then it is what it is. But at least you’ve got more class than him if you think it’s a shitty thing to hide in the men’s restroom the moment the bill is served instead of growing a pair and telling you exactly that in your face.

‘‘Hyung, please, I need you right now.’’ It is the first thing you hear once you round the corner and you come face to face with his back, his phone is held to his ear and it appears his fingers are pinching the bridge at his nose. ‘‘It’s just that I’m really into this girl, and I can swear she feels the same way. I can’t afford fucking it up now. I promise I’ll pay you back by the end of the month, okay?’’

It stings more than you’d like to admit. You lean against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest as you try to process the situation. Part of you wants to confront him right there, tell him the bill has been taken care of and ask him why he brought you here if he knew he couldn’t even pay for it. He could at least tell you to stay within a reasonable budget, where the wine bottle didn’t have to cost 400 bucks and each additional sauce wouldn’t have to cost another 15 on top.

Would he be scared you’d judge him if he brought you some place else?

‘‘I know, I know,’’ he mumbles into his phone, throwing his head back. ‘‘I didn’t want to bring her somewhere downtown and disappoint her, that’s all. How was I supposed to know the prices were that high if they don’t write it down the menu?’’

You have to bite your lip to hold the laughter from escaping. It’s cute, the way he thinks, because the moment you’d see a menu without its prices mentioned, one thing most people would do is run out the building before they charge you for the lukewarm water that’s already served on the table. You can’t help but find his reasoning cute and endearing, his sincerity shining through and you can tell he truly wanted to make tonight special for you. The fact that he was worried about disappointing you speaks volumes about how much he cares. Although, next time around, you’d find him a little cuter if he were honest with you. You really wouldn’t think much less of him if he asked you to pay the bill.

‘‘Thanks, hyung. So much.’’ He breathes out, and you can only figure the person on the other end of the line is transferring the money to his bank account as you stand there. ‘‘I’m dodging a bullet here.’’

It is only when he hangs up the phone that he turns around, halting in his tracks at the sight of you standing there. With his phone still in hand, Min Yoongi’s contact number still displayed on the screen, his expression changes from shock to worry as he sees you standing there, arms folded over another as you’re leaned up against the wall.

‘‘Hi.’’ You smile.

And you have the prettiest smile. Even though it’s closed lipped and seems a little ironic, he thinks you own the most beautiful smile in the room. ‘‘Hey,’’ he says, his eyes faltering even though he’s quick to cover up. Sauntering over, he places a hand at your hip to guide you the other way, over to the cashier. ‘‘I’m sorry that took so long, you know how moms can be.’’ He snickers quietly, ‘‘you’re already two years into college and she still calls every night to ask if you’ve eaten.’’

You stand there, amused by his poor attempt to brush off the situation, His hand on your hip feels warm, and you find yourself swayed by his touch. ‘‘Oh, I see,’’ You play along, unable to suppress the playful glint in your eyes. ‘‘So it was your mom who kept you on the phone for so long? For a hot minute I thought you were bailing on me back here.’’

Jungkook laughs softly, shaking his head. ‘‘With the way you look tonight? I’d be crazy to.’’ His eyes linger on you, shamelessly sneaking down your figure in a long, exposed glance, appreciating the white mini dress that cuts right beneath your ass, accentuating your every curve. He doesn’t even try to hide the boyish grin that works its way up his lips, the hand at your hip instead traveling to the small of your back.

Your cheeks flush a little at the compliment, and you turn to face him completely, a flat hand to his chest. ‘‘Smooth talker,’’ you tease, head tilting sweetly as a rush of warmth flows through you.

He grins, his eyes sparkling mischievously. ‘‘Just speaking the truth,’’ he replies, loving the way your eyes grow so big the moment he holds you close and you start looking up at him. He is still running his hand at your back in small circles as he subtly pulls you closer to him, loving the way you just let him. ‘‘Let’s take care of the bill and get you home safely. Are we all set?’’

You nod cutely, ‘‘I am,’’ you say, and Jungkook guides you around by the waist, his free hand digging into the back pocket of his dress pants before you interrupt him, intertwining your arm with his as you lead the both of you out the door instead. ‘‘And I already took care of it.’’ You teasingly whisper in his ear, the smile that you wear on your face undeniable.

Jungkook’s grin falters, halting in his tracks once you’re outside. His brows furrowed together, clearly taken aback. ‘‘Wait, you paid?’’ He asks softly, seeming a little deflated even as you stand before him with that pretty smile on your face. He usually can’t resist to bring one out himself when your lips break into one, though it comes a little more difficult this time. ‘‘You know you didn’t have to do that, right? I had everything planned out,’’ his hands come to cup your cheeks. ‘‘It was me who asked you out. That means that I’m supposed to treat you tonight.’’

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, and your heart softens at the genuine concern. It is only for a moment that you consider telling him you overheard his phone call with his roommate, and no matter how comfortable Jungkook made you feel tonight alone, you remember it’s only your first date, and you’d hate for things to get sappy so quickly. ‘‘Well, you basically left me all alone with that piece of paper. How could I control myself?’’ It’s supposed to be a lighthearted joke, he can see it in the way you smile at him, but he can’t help but think there’s some truth to it. ‘‘Come on, bring me home,’’ even with the heels you’re wearing, you have to stand on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. ‘‘These heels aren’t doing me justice anymore.’’

Jungkook chuckles softly, the tension not yet easing between you even as you drag him to the car by intertwining your hands together. As he opens the door for you to get in, he can’t help but feel like he’s somehow failed today’s date. Looking back at how it must’ve looked like when he ran off to call Min Yoongi for help like he’s still in highschool with a silly little school crush, he feels a pang of embarrassment at the thought of appearing so immature and unprepared in front of you. He wanted everything to be perfect, bring you someplace nice to impress you and show you he could treat you well. Instead, he just looks like a little boy who tried to trick you into paying for the first date.

Even as Jungkook is seated in the drivers’ seat and takes the route back to your home, he turns up the volume of the radio, hoping to drown out the disappointment in himself. He definitely screwed up tonight. He doesn’t even know if he wants you to say something to him; he just knows that you don’t, but the glances you keep sneaking his way for the entire ride back home are enough to make him feel even worse. You can see that something is bothering him, that his playful, flirtatious vibe from before has shifted and is now replaced with something you can’t decipher.

You start to wonder if it’s something you said. Wonder if he’s now getting cold feet and suddenly realizes maybe he didn’t enjoy himself as much as you thought. He hadn’t given you any reason to think like that, though. Not after how sweet he was tonight, not after the way you heard him talk about you over the phone with his friend.

As the car pulls up in front of your place, Jungkook turns off the engine, the radio cutting off as the silence envelopes both of you again. The clicking sound of your seatbelt comes fast and you glance over at him again, finding him already looking at you with a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

He gets out and walks you to the door after that, his hands hidden in the pockets of his pants as he doesn’t care to spare you another glance. The shift in energy is obvious between the both of you, not a single soul out on the street at this hour of the day to distract you from the uneasy silence. Your stiletto heels click against the pavement and you have to bite your bottom lip to make the short but uncomfortable way back a little more bearable.

At the end of a date comes a kiss. It’s how it happens in all the romcoms you watch–it happens in all the chick flicks and all the Disney short movies. But this is no Stephanie Perkins love story, not with the way you’re standing there, hugging your arms as the chilly breeze crosses your skin.

‘‘I guess this is where we split ways, right?’’ You finally break the silence, your voice tinged with uncertainty. You don’t want the night to end on such an awkward note, but the tension between you is undeniable.

Jungkook’s gaze softens, and he takes a step closer to you, the distance between your bodies diminishing. ‘‘I had a great time tonight,’’ he admits, his voice gentle as he reaches to unfold your arms, fingertips grazing over them before they get to your soft hands and intertwines them with his own. ‘‘And I really want to see you again,’’ he says quietly, thumbs rubbing over your knuckles. ‘‘You know, if that’s okay with you.’’

You have to tongue the front of your teeth in an attempt to hide that broad smile that’s tugging at the edges of your lips. ‘‘Yeah, I’d like that.’’ You say, and you can feel your heart race against your chest only with the way he’s looking down at you.

‘‘And I’ll be transferring the money right back to your account first thing back home, alright?’’

‘‘Oh,’’ you raise an eyebrow in surprise, not expecting him to bring up the topic of money again. ‘‘Really, that’s okay. I don’t mind having to spend a little. And it doesn’t really matter in the end, does it? We enjoyed ourselves tonight, and that’s probably what’s most important.’’

‘‘It is what’s most important,’’ he agrees with a boyish smile, heavy lidded eyes staring back at you. ‘‘But it was me who asked you to join me for dinner. Therefore it was my responsibility to treat you, you know? To make sure you had a good time, and to guarantee the bill was taken care of and nowhere within your reach.’’ Jungkook says, one hand held against his chest as he tilts his head in the most charming way you can think of. ‘‘That was my mistake. But I won’t be able to go to bed with a good feeling knowing you paid for all that. We didn’t dine at McDonald’s, you know?’’

You can’t help but let out a soft chuckle at his playful reference, because he’s right. There was a lot more on that receipt than two cheeseburgers and fries on the side. Jungkook took you out to wine and dine; told you beforehand to wear the prettiest dress you own and he spared no expense to make sure the evening was special. It was clear he wanted to impress you, even if you hadn’t overheard his phone call.

Your hands caress his chest until they reach to play with the collar of his blouse, as if to fix it. ‘‘Then maybe it’s time we pick out some place that’s a little more affordable, don’t you think?’’ You’re not nagging at him, your voice is gentle, indirectly telling him he doesn’t need to spend money on you that he doesn’t have. ‘‘You know I’d be fine with a pizza and a soda, right?’’

The feeling of your fingertips tickling at his neck makes him bite his lip, your arms leaning on his broad shoulders for support. ‘‘You know I can’t take you out for pizza.’’

You smile, enjoying the closeness between you when his own hands fall to your hips. Tugging you closer, just slightly. ‘‘Why not?’’ You tease, unable to keep that toothy smile off your face. ‘‘I bet we could have just as much fun sharing a pizza as we did tonight.’’

‘‘We would,’’ Jungkook’s eyes meet yours, and he looks a little torn. ‘‘But you’re special,’’ his lips curl into a small smile when the words leave him, watching as you throw your head back a little in surprise, the warmth rising to your cheeks not gone unnoticed. ‘‘And I don’t know… it’s probably just something you do, but you make me want to give you all the things you’ve never been given before, all right?’’

He’s speaking from the heart, and the longer he looks into those eyes of yours, the more this lovestruck feeling intensifies in the deepest pits of his chest. Because it’s true; Jeon Jungkook is smitten. You pick up his FaceTime calls in the middle of the night wearing silken, champagne pink Chanel pajamas, you carry your Miss Dior perfumes in the side pockets of your Armani handbags and your agent takes you out to fine dinings at least once a month–you’re handed all those luxury items by all sorts of brands trying to get a sponsor out of you because, they as well, know you’re something else. Something big.

You stand before him in a dress he doesn’t even want to know the price of, and instead just wants to admire you. How was he ever going to step up his game and give you things you haven’t seen before? Sure, perhaps Jungkook was a little starstruck the moment the price at the end of the bill caught his eye, but when it came to you, it was worth it. He doesn’t make that kind of money yet, but he will, and when he receives his degree and finally does that, then yes, he wants to spoil you rotten. You deserve it all.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, touched by his genuine sentiment. ‘‘Jungkook,’’ you begin softly, your voice tinged with emotion. ‘‘I had a blast tonight, I really did, and I appreciate you so much for the effort you put in the entire evening. But I really hope you didn’t do all of this with the idea I would like you any less if it indeed was just a burger and some fries from McDonald’s.’’

Jungkook’s eyes soften. ‘‘No, that’s not it at all,’’ he assures you, his voice gentle and sincere. ‘‘I wanted to show you a good time, to make you smile.’’

‘‘I smiled all the way to the end of the night,’’ you sing-song, leaning into his touch when you cup his cheeks. ‘‘So no S.O.S phone calls with Min Yoongi at the end of our next date night?’’

He blinks slowly, shifting his gaze downward as a nervous chuckle escapes his lips. ‘‘You overheard my phone call,’’ you watch as the embarrassment overtakes him and you think it’s rather cute how he tries to hide his face from you, the sight of your feet suddenly so much more interesting. ‘‘Isn’t that great.’’ He mumbles, wincing on the inside.

‘‘I did. And there’s nothing to be embarrassed of.’’ You tilt his head back up, forcing him to lock eyes. ‘‘I actually think it’s kind of cute you wanted to impress me. Am I really that intimidating?’’

Jungkook’s cheeks warm, and he can’t help but let out a laugh at your teasing. His thumbs start caressing the material at the small of your back, leaving you a little weak in the knees. ‘‘Intimidating isn’t the right word,’’ he admits, pursing his lips like he’s thinking hard. ‘‘I’d say you’re frightening. And not in a good way, either. Rather like one of those Disney villains that would keep you awake as a kid, you know?’’ He smirks cutely, playfully nudging at your side and causing you to squirm at his arms. ‘‘Ursula or something. You look just like her, the big eyes and the crazy hair and all.’’

‘‘Do I now?’’ You arch a single brow, amusement crippling at your lips.

He hums, tugging you close to him until your bodies are pressed together and you can feel his warmth radiating through his clothes. ‘‘Like two beads of water.’’ He says a little softer now, his breath fanning against your lips as he reaches out to gently brush a loose strand of hair away from your face.

The space between you seems to shrink, the world around you fading into oblivion the more you’re drawn into him. ‘‘You wouldn’t look at me as if you want to kiss me if that were true.’’

Jungkook’s breath catches at your words, and he can’t deny the truth in them. The teasing glint in your eyes sends a jolt of excitement through him, making him want to prove you wrong. His fingers gently trail along your jawline, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine.

‘‘Oh, really?’’ He retorts playfully, his voice low and husky. ‘‘And what if I do want to kiss you?’’ His gaze intensifies, holding you captive as he leans closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. The air cackles with anticipation, and time seems to slow down as the world around you fades away.

Your heart pounds in your chest, matching the rhythm of his as he hovers so close. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, and it sends a rush of desire through you. Your fingers instinctively find their way to his chest, the anticipation building between you both.

‘‘Do it and find out.’’

He doesn’t hesitate. You’ve given him the green light and with a surge of boldness running through him, he closes the distance between you, and his lips capture yours in a tender, passionate kiss. It’s a perfect collision of desire, a moment that feels like it was meant to be.

You place a hand to his chest, able to feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. With your fingers slightly curling at the nape of his neck, arm leaning on his shoulder, you dare to pull him closer to you as he copies your body language not much longer after. He pulls you by the small of your back to make sure it curves and you’re pressed chest to chest. Your breaths mingle, lips eagerly brushing against each other as the kiss deepens and you feel a tingling warmth spreading through your body. His touch is tender and possessive, as if he doesn’t want to let you go. Your other hand finds its way to his cheek, caressing it with a soft, adoring touch. It’s a silent reassurance that this is right, that you want this as much as he does.

Time seems to lose all meaning when his lips lingers on yours, it seems like. You’re lost in him, just like how he is lost in you. And when you eventually pull away, your foreheads rest against each other, you both share a soft, contented sigh. Your eyes meet, and a knowing smile passes between you.

‘‘Let’s save the rest for our second date, yeah?’’

Your heart is still racing, and his touch leaves your body feeling electric. You can see the desire in his eyes as gazes down at you, and with a gentle caress at his cheek, you nod in agreement, a playful glint in your eyes.

‘‘Definitely,’’ you whisper, your voice breathless.

As you part ways, you fumble with your keys at the door as Jungkook makes his way back to his car. A sense of contentment washes over you, knowing you’ve found someone who makes your heart race and your soul soar.

And as you steal a glance from over your shoulder only one last time for tonight, you find him doing the same thing at the exact same moment. Your eyes meet, and you cutely avert your eyes back forward the moment it happens, missing the way he bites his bottom lip to hold back a cheeky grin, shaking his head in amusement.

You’re truly one of a kind.

#jungkook drabble #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook #jeon jungkook #BTS jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts #bts fic

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wrongplacerighttime · 5 months

Text

agent!harry x agent!fmc

part one here ᵕ̈ // little bunny masterlist

the one where grace and harry don’t want to admit their feelings, then another undercover opportunity comes up, this time at a swinger party. harry gets jealous, grace hates him and swears she’ll never speak to him again (but does she really?) // little bunny part 2

ITS FINALLY DONE!!!!!! Im sorry it’s SO LATE ksckskckskc you can be mad it’s okay i understand im terrible.

wc: 6.1k

tw: mentions murder, swinger party (not harry and grace), jealous!harry, angsty vibes, unprotected sex, little bit of fluff at the end

Only You

“No! Absolutely not!” Grace snapped at Harry, stomping her foot like a Kindergartener who didn’t get their way. Harry grins at her display of frustration while crossing his arms over his chest, the sleeves around his biceps tightening. She doesn’t ever want to go undercover again, not after the last time. “You could ask literally anybody else.” She gestured out of the conference room window to their coworkers Gina and Kelly standing around the desk of a police officer, one whose name Grace didn’t remember. They’re discussing details of the most recent case before they go out to the latest crime scene.

“Yeah…but they don’t always fit the profile.” Harry argued back, then his smile grew. “You, however…you always fit the profile, bunny.”

She straightens, her mouth opening to speak before she quickly snaps it closed when she can’t gather her thoughts fast enough to answer. A heat swirls below her belt, one that she can’t blame on the Dallas climate. The weather was brutal, and to top it off, the air conditioning in the station was out. Stand up fans and box fans littered around the station only blew hot air around, not giving them any reprieve. She feels a bead of sweat trickle down her temple, her eyes trail over Harry, flicking to the three buttons of his shirt that were undone and showing just enough of his chest and the light sheen of sweat. She licks her bottom lip before pulling it between her teeth, her mind wandering. He looks like sex, standing there with his hands on his hips and his gun holstered on his belt. She imagines herself striding the short distance over to him and crashing her lips to his before dipping her head down and trailing her tongue over—

“Besides, I was just asking in case we did need to go undercover again, would you?” His voice pulls her from her daydream. She blinks the imagery from her mind, forcing herself back into the mindset she needs for this case.

“No. Final answer. Ask someone else.” She turns on her heel, walking out of the room before she can’t satiate the heat pooling between her thighs.

“Way to be a team player!” He yells from the doorway, causing heads to turn her direction. She doesn’t turn around, instead flipping her middle finger up towards him as she creates more distance between them. She rounds the corner, eyes falling to the floor as she makes her way to the breakroom. She grabs a water from the fridge, leaning against the counter before downing half of it. She breathes a heavy sigh, making a mental note to tell Aaron that she needed some time off after this case.

Grace and Harry haven’t been together since the case in Seattle. The martini’s she had that night forced her into a brief lapse of judgment, as gin usually did. Her clouded mind made her desire for a man who didn’t want her grow into something unfathomable. That night, after they left the room, Jesse made his move on Grace like they expected he would. His partner, the woman whose name they later found out was Margot, had cornered Harry when Grace went to retrieve her coat. Once Harry was distracted, Jesse followed Grace out the door and down the sidewalk, what he didn’t expect was Aaron to be following him as well. She knew Aaron wouldn’t let Jesse get too far, but she was still scared when he grabbed her from behind and dragged her into a dark alley. He put a knife to her throat and whispered in her ear about how she was a disgrace, pathetic and powerless for cheating on her fictional husband. She almost grabbed her gun from her coat pocket, but she wasn’t expecting Harry to be the one pulling her away, holding her to his chest as Aaron grabbed Jesse and put him in cuffs. And even though Grace wanted to be the one to do it, she found in that moment, that she didn’t care. She was just glad they got there before he slit her throat.

She shakes the traumatic memory from her mind, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. Maybe it was just the heat, or maybe it was the fact that this case was almost too similar. Except now their new suspect was targeting young married couples. They don’t have much to go on yet, but they knew they needed to act quickly. Grace turns information over in her head, thinking, trying her hardest to come up with some idea. The first couple found was assumed to be a murder-suicide, until the next couple showed up a week later with the same exact MO. They know he forced them to have sex before he kills them, but he makes them wear a condom. To them, it makes no sense. The couples are married, and why would he make them wear a condom if he was just going to kill them? He’s in control of the entire situation, making them comfortable before shooting them at point-blank range after the husband “finishes”.

She combs through the information over and over, forcing her mind to find any new angle that she can come up with but she fails. She rubs her sweaty palms over her jeans and walks back towards the main area of the station. Gathered around a whiteboard, Harry and Aaron are discussing possible motives with a few officers. Harry mentions their last case, the sex club and asks them if there's anything like that around this area. An idea sparks in Grace’s mind, and she makes her way to them.

“What if it’s a swinger community?” She blurts out and they turn to look at her, Harry raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing we have suggests that.” Harry mutters and her nostrils flare, because of course he would be arguing with her. That’s what he does best.

“Nothing suggests another sex club either, jackass.” She snaps at him, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “How would he get them to even agree to go anywhere with him unless they were already open to the idea of having a third?” Harry’s eyes travel down to the V in her shirt, giving him a view of her chest that’s speckled red from heat before he rakes them over the curve of her hips. His eyes flick back to her face studying the baby hairs stuck to her temple with sweat while she talks. His jaw ticks once and he turns back to the whiteboard.

“I don’t think it’s a stretch to assume that, Styles.” Aaron interjects, and Harry rolls his eyes, capping the marker he was holding and walking away. When no one shares his theories, he gets angry because he can’t piggyback onto them for defense. “I’m going to call Agent Morgan and Agent Jones, tell them to find out whatever they can about the swinger community in this area.” Grace nods, walking towards the door in hopes she can find any reprieve from the stuffy heat inside the station. Once outside, she leans against the building, running a hand over her forehead damp with sweat and swears under her breath. She could already tell it was going to be a long week.

—

By Wednesday, they were fed up. With the case, with the heat, and with each other. It was the hottest day of the week by far. They were shedding any layers they could while still maintaining modesty, but thankfully, the officers were understanding when they walked in to see the women in tanktops and the men with their buttons undone down their chests. They had it worse, and Grace felt sorry for them, always having to have a full uniform and heavy gear strapped to their belts. Grace flicks her gaze up from a file she was reading as Lieutenant Nathan Davis strides through the door of their conference room carrying a file. He smiles at her and she mirrors it back to him, everyone noticing that he’s taken a quick liking to her. Something she’s never been good at identifying.

“Hey, I think I have something here.” He says, laying the file of the most recent murder on the table before pulling over the one from the first. “Both husbands, they’re what one could consider “alphamales”. They go to the gym and work out relentlessly, they have high-power careers. People who knew them said they had kind of overbearing personalities.” He points out highlighted areas and Grace nods. Harry narrows his eyes.

“But they have no specific traits that make them similar. The women however…” He trails off, turning to look at the board with their pictures pinned up, and it was uncanny, the similarities between the two women. Once they noticed, an uneasy ambience settled over the room.

After a few hours, most of the team had checked out and gone to the hotel. The lieutenant was still in the conference room, sat next to Grace and attempting to make small talk while they worked. Harry’s eyes narrowed as he worked on the geographical profile, facing away from them as to not give away his expression.

“So, how's life in D.C? Is it as busy as everyone says it is?” Nathan asks her and she nods, eyebrows pulling together before she relaxes the muscle.

“It’s always busy. But it’s not so bad. I like it there, lots of history in that city. I’m into that sort of thing.” She answers as she highlights part of the coroner's report.

“I’ve been thinking about making a trip there. Maybe when I do we could get together.” He suggests and she grins.

“Oh for sure! I could show you the best museums.” She says, and looks back down at the report in front of her, not picking up on his flirting. Harry rolls his eyes, turning around to grab another push pin. He peeks up from his lashes, catching the way Nathan keeps flicking his eyes down to Graces lips, and the way he scoots his chair closer to her but she scoots away and creates a distance between them. He almost laughs, but covers it up with a cough causing the both of them to glance in his direction. He didn’t look up at them, instead turning to the board and putting the red pin in its rightful place, hiding his smirk from them.

—

Grace and Harry stayed at the station until the night dissipated into morning, the orange sun rising in the sky as the rest of their team made their way into the conference room. They relayed information, dismissing themselves to the hotel to get a few hours of sleep. Grace tried all night to have conversations with Harry but received one word responses or a cold shoulder in general and she was at her wits end by the time they were walking down the block towards the hotel.

They walked in silence, and Grace felt like she was running to keep up with Harry’s long strides, and it wouldn’t take an expert to see that he was tense. His expression was hardened and his fists were shoved deep into his pockets, eyes never straying from the path ahead of them. She swallows, opening her mouth to speak and before she can even get a word out he interrupts her.

“Don’t.” He warned, and her mouth snapped shut, looking down at the ground with a sigh.

“Noted.” she muttered under her breath, acknowledging he wasn’t in the mood to speak to her. She doesn’t know if he’s upset at her or frustrated with the case, but she decides on the latter because she can’t think of any reason why he would be angry at her.

They go their separate ways once they reach their floor, Harry going straight and Grace turning right off the elevator. She fumbles with the keycard, pushing the door open as soon as the light turns green and locking it behind her. She trudges to the bathroom, peeling off her clothes and taking the coldest shower she can stand, washing the sticky feeling sweat had left behind on her skin. Refreshed, she dresses into a more comfortable outfit and slips on a pair of shoes, deciding she was going to walk down the hallway and see if Harry wanted to get something to eat before they inevitably passed out from exhaustion.

She knocks once, and the door swings open. He’s standing there, towel wrapped around his hips with water dripping off the ends of his hair. He huffs, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest, the muscles in his arms popping at the position. She swallows the nervous lump in her throat as he stares at her, his gaze making her almost uncomfortable.

“I-I just wanted to check on you. It just seems like something is bothering you and I just wanted to see if—”

“See if what? If you could fix it?” He interrupts her, and she shakes her head in shock at his tone. “What if you’re what's bothering me? Then what, Grace?” He tilts his head, studying her, and it's almost condescending, the way he’s speaking to her.

“Whatever I did, I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“You think just because we fucked one time I’m going to be nice to you?” He stares at her with a hardened expression and she’s confused. She doesn’t understand the change in his mood, and he’s never spoken to her this way before. He stands there, looking down at her fiddling with her fingers and he almost caves. Almost. He needs to push her away, he doesn’t want her to get comfortable with him. The only way to do that is if he’s callous towards her so she’ll run away from him, then he’ll have his sanity back. Because the truth is terrifying to him, and since the moment he crashed his lips to hers in that club, the only thing he can think about is the way she tasted. They way she squeezed around his cock just right. The way she whimpered into his mouth when he thumbed over her clit. He’s craving her. But, he can’t face the feelings he has for her. He doesn’t want to admit that he was jealous watching Nathan flirt with her at the station…and Grace couldn’t tell he was wearing the mask that he’s become so comfortable behind.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay…and if you wanted to get breakfast since we were at the station all night…” Her voice trails off and she feels small under his patronizing stare, her eyes flicking down to her feet and the floor.

“You should go ask Lieutenant Nathan if he wants to get breakfast with you. The man already has a hard on for you and if you ask him he’ll probably cum in his pants.” He sneers and she snaps her head back up to him, he’s leaning against the doorframe, and she doesn’t know where this is even coming from.

“That’s what this is about?” She becomes defensive now, and she scoffs. “Are you jealous?” She laughs, a laugh laced with sarcasm and he grips his bicep, the muscle dimpling under his skin at the force. “That’s rich coming from you Harry, really. Just because a man is being nice doesn’t mean he’s flirting. And you have no right to be jealous even if he was.” Her breath is heavy with rage in her lungs, and his eyes flare with something she can’t quite pinpoint. She feels her cheeks redden from the anger taking over her conscience.

“You know, I don’t want to tiptoe around your feelings, Grace.” His voice is low, and her hands ball in fists at her sides. “You’re just…pathetic and helpless…like a little bunny.” The words come out before he can stop them, the same words Jesse used against her in that dark alley less than three weeks ago, and she visibly flinches, the fire in her eyes dying out. His flare for a moment longer before it dissipates and the reality of what he actually said hits him. His expression softens, and he reaches for her. She steps back, moving away from him like his touch would burn her. Her gaze hardens again, the heat behind her cheeks simmers.

“Fuck you, Harry.” The words fall from her lips, burning like venom and she storms away from him. Her steps come faster, and then she’s sprinting down the hall far, far away from him. No amount of distance feels like enough. The combination of tears falling down her cheeks and the wind from running cools her burning skin. Rounding the corner, she fumbles with her keycard as she reaches the door, her vision blurring making it hard to see the slot, but once she jams it in she throws the door open and shuts it behind her, leaning against it and sliding to the floor. She sobs, thinking of any reason why his words would affect her like this. He’s always been an asshole, always saying things to get under her skin…but none of them have ever hurt in this way.

Behind his door, Harry is pacing, running his hands through his hair and tugging at the root. He didn’t mean to let his anger take over, speaking for him in a moment like that. It was a terrible form of self-sabotage, the way he always let his emotions get the best of him. He wanted to go to her, apologize (something he never did), but he had a feeling he just fucked up any chance he had with her.

—

Grace had moved to the bed at some point, hugging her knees to her chest before she drifted into sleep. In her dreams, all she saw was the anger behind Jesse’s eyes when he grabbed her, her eyes close as Jesse gets close to her face, his words spitting from behind his lips, and when she opens them, it’s not Jesse holding her against the wall. It’s Harry.

She jolts awake, sitting up in the bed, pressing her fingers into her eyes to force the image of him away. She checks the time on her phone, jumping from the bed and throwing on an outfit that better suits her line of work. She straps her holster on her belt, walking out the door. She makes her way down the street to the station, going inside to find her team gathered in the conference room, minus Harry. She sighs with relief and finds a chair, joining in with conversation as Aaron informs them about new information pertaining to their case.

“We have found out that this man has to be married, there’s no way for him to get into the swinger parties without a partner. We don’t suspect the wife has anything to do with his crimes, or if she even knows he’s committing them.” Aaron pulls a chair out, sliding into it and his eyes move to movement coming through the doorway. Out her peripheral, Grace see’s Harry pull up a chair to the table.

“We want you to go undercover again, Grace.” He clears his throat once, and her eyes meet his. “You’re his type…as uncanny as that sounds.” Just like last time.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” she mutters, picking at her fingernails. Her mind wanders away from the conversation. Her teeth sunk into the skin of her lip, the metallic taste of her own blood meeting her tongue. She tried to stay out of her own mind, but it was hard when the only thing she thought about was if she would be in danger again. She feels Harry’s voice fading in through her thoughts as she forces her attention back to the conversation.

“...and I don’t think it’s a good idea for me and Grace to go undercover together again.” His eyes flick over to her momentarily before he looks back at Aaron.

“Well, I guess it could be—”

“I could do it.” A voice behind them speaks and they all turn to see Lieutenant Nathan standing in the doorway, holding a folder in his hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just overheard the conversation. I’m willing to go in there, with Grace.” He looks at Harry once before going back to Aaron, then to Grace. “I’d just need a little bit of a rundown on what to do.” He says to her and she nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She agreed. “I can give you the basics.” Her voice is low and he nods at her, and she stands, following him out the door.

Harry watches her go.

—

She’s nervous, she can’t deny it. Nathan holds her hand in his, fingers laced together as they stand in front of the mahogany door. He rings the doorbell, reminding himself of the backstory they decided on and straightens his posture. Grace fiddles with the earpiece tucked behind her hair, feeling like something is sticking out of place and poking her. She tries to ignore the feeling as she looks up at Nathan, waiting. The door opens and the hostess of the party smiles, making room for them to walk through the door. She introduces herself as Diana, and informs them of the rules for the night. She knows who they are and why they’re here, Aaron giving her a rundown when he called her into the station. She was sworn to secrecy, and more than willing to let them into her house to catch the man who was killing people she had considered friends.

She knew that Aaron and the rest of the team were set up down the road, sitting and waiting in their SUVs for the signal once the suspect was in their car with them and driving down the road to their secondary location. She felt a little bit of comfort knowing that they would arrest him before he even got the chance to hurt them, but she was still terrified after her situation with Jesse and she didn’t want to risk being put into another situation like that.

She felt Nathan's hand squeeze hers, silently reassuring her that he was here and he wouldn’t let anything happen to her…a stark contrast to the touch she received from Harry when they were in their similar situation. She was just thankful that she didn’t have to walk into this party wearing almost nothing. Her eyes flitted over the room of people, looking for anyone who fit their profile. He would be a little jittery, but nothing that would be noticeable to any unassuming person. He’s going to be someone people trust, someone who could easily lure them away. A familiar face in the crowd for the unsuspecting party goers.

Nathan rests his hand on the small of her back, pulling her to his side to show affection like a typical married couple would. He bends over, kissing her temple once and her cheeks heat from the gesture.

“You look really nice, by the way. I didn’t get to say that before we came in here.” He whispers in her ear and she looks up at him, giving him a small smile. She glances around the room once more, trying to put a face to their profile. She breathes in once, seeing a man chatting up a couple before his eyes glance around until they meet hers. A man with short, dark hair. About 5’7” in height. He takes a seat beside them on the couch, introducing himself as Steven Durst. He’s married to a woman named Billie, who’s also around the house somewhere he states. He doesn’t elaborate on much, only telling them he’s the manager of a hedge fund that deals with something outside of Grace’s realm of knowledge. She clocks his mannerisms, noticing the way his leg bounces up and down, and the way he chews on his lip. She notices his attention on her for the entirety of the conversation he’s having with Nathan.

She excuses herself to the bathroom, walking down the hall and slipping behind the safety of the door, locking it behind her.

“Aaron, I think we have our guy. Steven Durst.” She speaks quietly to him and her voice comes through the walkie he has in the cupholder between him and Harry. He relays the message to the police department, and they have a file on this guy in a matter of seconds. He looks over to Harry in the passenger seat, tense and looking out the window into the distance. His brows are furrowed together but he doesn’t say anything to him.

All Harry has heard for the past thirty minutes is Nathan complimenting and flirting with Grace and it’s making him resentful of a man he doesn’t even know. He’s staring at nothing, thinking about how he should be the one in there with her, he shouldn’t have backed down from the job when he was asked.

His thoughts race but he’s pulled from them when he hears the click of the gear shift as Aaron puts the car in drive. They follow the car that Grace is in with their suspect, and he swears he’ll kill this one if he even thinks of touching her. They drive for what feels like forever, keeping their distance a few cars back as they hear Steven Durst through the earpiece saying sinful things, things Harry could never think of and implicating himself. He feels his anger bubbling in his chest at the thought of this disgusting person saying these vile things to Grace. His Grace.

Whatever happens next is a blur to him. They pull into the parking spot beside Nathan’s car and Harry pulls Steven from the back seat before Steven can even get his gun from his waistband. He pulls it out for him, chucking it into the grass and putting the man in handcuffs. He pushes him over to Aaron, who takes hold of the chain between the locks and walks him to a police car. Grace walks away, going to the other car and not the one Harry came in and jumping in the backseat without so much as a glance in his direction. He drops his hands to his sides, defeated before getting back into the passenger seat and sitting in silence as they make their way back to their hotel.

—

Grace is brushing her teeth when she hears a loud banging on her door, and whoever it is sounds impatient as they persistently bang their fist against the metal. She looks at herself once in the mirror before going to look through the peephole. Standing on her tiptoes, she sees Harry standing there, unable to read his expression because his head is tilted towards the floor as he waits for her to open the door. She sighs heavily, debating on whether or not she should open it…but then he bangs his fist again and she’s had it.

“What the fuck do you want?” She sneers as she opens it and he doesn’t acknowledge her, just storms his way into her room right past her. She lets go of the door, allowing it to close as she follows him deeper into the room. She sees him standing with his back towards her. “Hello? You can’t just barge in here like—”

“You’re a real piece of work, Grace.” He laughs, but it's not one of humor. He turns to face her, and his pupils are blown. She knows that look. It’s the same look he gave her in that private room of the club. The one she saw when he was driving his cock into her deeper than anyone else has ever reached. And even though she’s still angry, she can’t help the heat that swirls in her chest and travels straight to her thighs.

“What now, Harry? Please enlighten me.” Her sarcasm has him shaking his head, running his tongue over his bottom row of teeth before he answers.

“Think I liked listening to that fucker flirt with you all night? Trying to win you over with a cheesiness that would make any sane person cringe.” He states and she narrows her eyes at him.

“Aaron asked you if you would—”

“No. You were pissed at me, and that would’ve given us away too quickly.” He interrupts and she rolls her eyes.

“Okay, then you have no reason to be mad when you declined the offer.” She crosses her arms, and his eyes trail over her body. Her shirt that was oversized and dropped just down to her thighs, thighs he wanted wrapped around his waist more than anything else. “For the record, I’m still pissed. Now leave.” She points to the door and he smirks.

“Do you really want me to though?” He slowly closes the distance between them, and she retreats away until her back meets the wall. He cages her head between his arms, head dipping to her line of vision. His lips are so close that she could pucker and they would touch. She keeps them in a thin line, not wanting to give away her guise. He nudges her nose with his. “He’s not me.”

“Maybe that’s what I like about him.” Her words come out breathless, her voice betraying her. Her lips brush his as she speaks and he hums.

“Y’know…ever since Seattle, can’t stop thinking of the little noises you make, the way you squeeze around me when you cum. The feeling of your fingers twisting in my hair…You ruined me for anyone else, bunny.” He mutters and she whimpers, her eyes fluttering closed. He pulls away. “But, call Nathan. Tell him to come fuck you.” He drops his arms, moving towards the door but she grabs his bicep before he can get too far.

“No. Want you.” She assures him and he surges forward, lips crashing into hers as he captures her face in his hands. And it’s blissful, the way his tongue dances with hers. She whimpers again into his mouth as he fists the hair at the nape of her neck. He trails his hands down her body, tapping her hips once and she jumps, he catches her on the back of her thighs as she wraps her legs around his waist. He carries to the bed, the kiss never faltering. She wraps her arms around the back of his neck as he lays her down. He pulls away momentarily as he pushes her shirt up, exposing her body to him and he lets out a groan, his head dropping to her chest as he pulls the shirt over her head. He wants nothing more than to taste her and have her squirming and shaking just from his tongue lapping at her. She watches him admiring her body, knowing he’s just taking her time to make her beg, make her needy like he wanted her to be the first time.

The heat between her thighs grows and he drops to his knees at the edge of the bed, hooking his arms under her thighs and pulling her to the edge of the bed. He drags his lips lightly up the skin of her inner thighs before his hot breath blows over her clit and makes her buck her hips upwards towards him. She whines and he backs away, creating distance.

“Let me take my time, Grace.” His voice is sweet and honeyed, making her breath catch in her throat. She almost argues, but before she can get a word out his tongue drags through her folds and flicks her clit and she lets out a moan so loud her neighbors would think she’s watching porn. He hums with satisfaction as his mouth closes around her and the vibrations send waves of pleasure straight down her spine.

“Taste so sweet, bunny. Never gonna be able to give you up.” He mutters against her and her hands find his hair, grabbing and fisting as she pulls his head back to her. He licks and sucks at her clit, eating her like a man starved and his name falls from her lips between moans over and over, bringing her closer to release. She glances down as his eyes come up to look at her. He smirks and lets his eyes flutter closed, getting lost in her and she doesn’t think she can hold on any longer.

“H-harry. Gonna cum.” She breathes out and her chest heaves as her breaths become labored.

“I know, sweet girl. Let go for me.” His encouraging words mixed with him pushing two fingers into her is all it takes. He pumps his fingers, hooking and curling finding just the right spot, and she tumbles over the ledge, crying his name over and over as he works her through it. He comes back up to her, kissing her and tasting herself on his tongue is the most erotic she’s ever felt.

“Please.” She begs against his lips and he doesn’t waste any time pulling his heavy cock out of his pants and stripping his shirt off his torso. Her nails rake down his chest and he pumps once with his hand before lining up with her entrance, dragging the head of his cock through her arousal. He pushes in slowly, dropping his head to her shoulder as he groans. He stills once he’s fully inside her, allowing her to adjust to him. She grips onto his biceps as he pulls out to the tip and slowly goes back in. He moans against her skin, sinking his teeth into her shoulder and her eyes flutter closed, feeling every ridge and every vein. He brings his forehead to meet hers, lips enveloping hers as he pushes in and pulls out, and she knows he's holding back.

“More. Please.” She whines against his mouth and he fulfills her request, picking up his pace as he sits up, pulling her legs over his shoulders and somehow he hits deeper than he already has. She cries out again, bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle her moans of pleasure. He grabs her wrist, pulling her hand away and shakes his head.

“No. Wanna hear those pretty noises, bunny.” His voice is low and breathy, hips smacking against hers and her eyes flutter closed. He doesn’t relent, keeping his pace and trailing his thumb over her open lips before pressing it against her tongue. She wraps her lips around it, pulling it further into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it. He groans, the image of her on her knees and taking him down her throat on his mind.

“Nobody but me, Grace. Nobody can fuck you like I do.” He says between gritted teeth and she looks up at him with round eyes, his thumb pulling her jaw open and she whines. “You’re mine.” She nods.

“Yours. Only yours.” She says between breaths. His movements begin to falter at her willingness to comply with his words.

“Fuck.” he curses under his breath, letting her legs fall from his shoulder and bending over her as he drives into her. She clenches around him, willing him to come inside her again, craving the feeling it left her with. “Such a good girl.” He mutters against the valley between her breasts. His tongue darts out, licking a stripe up to her neck and pulling her skin between his teeth. His hand comes between their bodies and he presses his thumb against her already sensitive bud. Her hips buck against his hand, and he rubs small circles with light pressure.

“One more, bunny. Need you to give me one more. Know you can.” His movements grow sloppy and her eyes squeeze shut and pleasure sends her brain into a frenzy. The coil snaps and she’s a mess of whining and moaning his name over and over. He follows her as she squeezes around him, his cock twitching as he releases and he holds himself up on wobbly arms.

They lay there for a few minutes, catching their breath and he strokes his thumb over her temple and pushes her hair away from her face. She smiles at him, dazed from the high she’s still coming down from. Their hearts pound in synchrony behind their ribs and he pulls out of her, leaving her feeling empty.

He rolls onto his back beside her, pulling her to his side and holding her for a moment, something he didn’t get to do after the first time, and it was something he thought about every day since then, wanting to shower her with affection afterwards. He nudges her forehead with his nose and he brings his lips to plant a light kiss on the bridge of her nose.

“Only you, Grace.” He says and she smiles. “Only you.”

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