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soapskneebrace · 5 months

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muses - part one - next

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x f!Reader Word Count: 2.8k Rating: Mature (mostly Soap being Soap) Warnings: please see this post for notes about this reader character Also on Ao3.

An artist meets her muse, and a solider meets his.

He arrives early as you’re setting up for your students, in jeans and a tight t-shirt, and the first thing that crosses your mind when you lay eyes on him is Jesus, he’s fit.

You are no stranger to bodies. Hundreds of them have cycled through your studio, all shapes and sizes and colors; you think you may know every dip, every roll, every hard angle and soft curve that a human body is capable of holding. The mystique of defined muscle has long lost its novelty. Bodies are bodies, and each holds the same value as the next when subject to brush and canvas. It never matters, you teach your students, what a body looks like in the modeling chair. It only matters if they can reproduce it accurately.

Even so, when a body like this walks in, you really can’t help but take notice.

Decadent muscle, fed and worked well, round and full with hydration. It’s impossible to miss, even through his clothes; each group delineated clearly, gracefully, as if sculpted rather than built, and alive with soft, subcutaneous movement. It’s indulgent to look at, the comfortable breadth of his shoulders and chest down to that slight taper of his waist and bulk of his thick thighs. It’s a physique no hard-bodied gym rat could hope to achieve merely with extra time at the racks—a physique that is easily, harmoniously attractive in its makeup of muscle and healthy fat.

The man is also mohawked and suntanned, and his mouth rests at an angle that suggests he often smiles—as if he knows that Michelangelo would have swooned at the sight of him. He comes into your classroom, saunters over to you, and stops precisely two paces away from you.

“Sergeant John MacTavish,” he says, offering his hand. “I understand you’re the instructor?”

He has gorgeous, vivid blue eyes (pthalo and cremnitz, with a touch of hamsa). You blink several times. Fit is still rattling around your skull, and begins knocking against sergeant at the same rolling frequency as his warm Scottish brogue. You realize his hand is still outstretched and quickly take it to shake.

“Yes!” you say. His palm is tough, callused, and not soft in the slightest, but very warm. “Nice to meet you, sergeant.”

He gives a grimace. “John’s fine. Or Soap.”

“Soap?”

“Nickname, y’know.”

Neither of you have released from the handshake. Soap’s grip is firm, the kind of firm that suggests he can squeeze much, much tighter if he needs to. And if the grip isn’t any indication, the broad forearms, dusted soft with dark brown hair, certainly are.

Black lines, a sword and helmet framed in laurels, catch your notice. The ink has the soft edges of having lain in the skin for a few years. You turn his arm to see it more fully. “Oh. Nice tattoo.”

He looks at the ink as if it is entirely new to him, and then gives an easy grin. “Thanks. I’ve got a few more too. Hope they aren’t hard to draw.”

When you loosen your grip on his hand, he releases you immediately. You still feel the squeeze in your bones even as you drop your hand to your side.

“So, then, Soap,” you say, “have you ever modeled before?”

He shakes his head, tucking his hands into the front pockets of his low-slung jeans. It tugs the waistband just a bit, revealing a sliver of warm, tan skin (raw sienna, flesh ochre, naples yellow). “Should have, honestly, with how much it pays.”

“It gets very boring, very fast,” you say. “What do you plan to wear for the breaks?”

“Was I supposed to bring that m’self?”

You are unable to suppress a laugh. “Yes, unfortunately.”

“Oh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and going a little sheepish—as if expecting a reprimand. You suppose it’s a valid expectation to have, in his world. You aren’t terribly familiar with the military, but you do know it’s one hell of a stickler for rules.

You also can’t help but admire the appealing pull and stretch of his bicep and deltoid, the flex of his pectoral as he lowers his arm.

“Why don’t you wait here, and I’ll go see if I can find something for you?” you suggest kindly, letting him off the hook.

“Sorry,” he says, pretty blue eyes filled with genuine apology. “I’ll remember nex’ time. Thanks.”

The expression is so hangdog that you almost want to pat his head and noise at him reassuringly, like an actual dog. You press your lips together to hide a smile, and leave the studio.

When you get back from the models’ changing room, you find Soap with one hip against the counter where you’d been organizing your supplies, one knee loose and shoulders set at a relaxed angle. You want to laugh at his easy contrapposto. He’s going to be an excellent model. You can feel it.

It looks as if he’s moving around the sticks of vine charcoal with one outstretched finger; he pulls his hand guiltily away when you reenter the studio, crossing his arms over his chest as if to hide the evidence of his snooping. It makes his pectorals bunch and round out, gathers the thickness of his biceps up into chiseled, full definition.

You lift one brow at him as you walk over.

“Never could keep my hands to m’self,” he admits, still sheepish.

“It’s alright,” you allow, smiling back. “Do you draw?”

“Used to,” he says. He looks back at the charcoal. “No time, now.”

“Are you deployed often?” you ask, taking the opportunity to look at his face.

Beauty is cheap in art, but you notice it all the same—appreciate the strong brows, the hard angle of his jaw, the dark stubble of a beard you suspect he can’t keep shaved down, and the long scar that cuts through it across his chin. The light brown of his complexion is speckled with sun exposure, and there are the faintest of creases at the corners of his eyes, which you expect will deepen into genuine, gorgeous crow’s feet as he ages.

He’s not all rugged, though. There is a soft, thick curl to his lashes, which are as dark as strong coffee or expensive chocolate, and an equal decadence to the pink, plush little swell of his bottom lip—which, in the very middle, has the smallest of divots, as if he regularly spends time biting it.

They’re traits that are far too sweet to belong on an otherwise masculine face, and their effect is such that they turn an objectively average set of features into a shockingly attractive portrait—that suddenly has something fluttering, just a bit, in the roof of your stomach.

He looks at you, and catches your survey. You can see him realize you’d been watching, the knowledge of it blooming in ocean blue eyes like ink dropped onto linen.

“More often than no’,” he answers, showing teeth in a crooked, interested grin. And now he’s looking at you—attention flitting across your face, dropping down your body and jumping back up to meet your gaze. The creases deepen at the corners of his eyes.

The fluttering intensifies. The sudden role reversal has you feeling at once flustered and unmoored. You are never the subject of any perusal—always comfortably the observer.

“Well—” you try, and you’re embarrassed at the low tone of your voice. You clear your throat. “Well, let’s make use of the time we have you, then.”

His smile remains, cocksure and easy. “Let’s.”

He knows the effect he’s had.

“Anyway,” you say, blinking several times and proffering the sheet you’d retrieved, “none of the other models are your size, so I’m afraid this will have to do.”

He takes it in his hands, which are sun-dark and striking against the clean white linen. “So it’s a toga, then?” he asks.

“Whatever you like. Let’s go over the basics, and then you can undress.”

“Oh, already, aye? Y’move fast, hen,” he drawls, still grinning. “I like it.”

Heat rushes to your face, but you don’t feel embarrassed enough not to laugh. You busy yourself with tapping your charcoal sticks back in place, putting them back in an even row ascending in order of length, and saving yourself from having to look him in the eye. “Ha! We don’t do a lot of foreplay in this studio, I’m afraid.”

“No?” Soap hums, and he steps closer. He’s very warm, enough that you can feel it even with the space between you. You do have to look at him then. His eyes are half-lidded, lashes casting pretty shadows on his cheekbones as he gazes down at you. “That’s a shame. I’m right partial to it.”

Your brows lift, and you will your pulse to remain steady even as you inhale, catching a thread of—cologne? Aftershave? Just plain deodorant?—coming off of him. The scent caresses you, almost beckoning you to lean forward. You swear you can see the thrum of his heartbeat, there in the soft hollows by his Adam’s apple.

You blink. He is your model. “Well—I’ll try to set you up as best I can, anyway. Follow me, please.”

And you turn your back on him, because this is your workplace, and you are at work, and if you don’t get on with things you might do something stupid like actually flirt back.

Soap hadn’t been sure what to expect when he arrived at the art studio. He’s never been to one before, much less one housed in a university—which he has also never been to—and hell, he only ever took one art class in high school.

If pressed, he’d have imagined old brick walls covered in diagram posters, shelves of supplies in all colors, the smell of paint hanging permanently in the air. What he finds instead is modern, clean, and impersonal. Stage lights hang from fixtures in the ceiling, pointing at a platform in the back center of the room. A tight line of easels, all folded up, stand pressed into a far corner, next to a tower of stacked chairs, and waist-high cabinets line half the room against the bare, painted cinder block wall. The linoleum floor looks new.

None of this, however, has any opportunity to disappoint him. His final unmet expectation, standing across the room and organizing a tray of art supplies, is a very welcome surprise.

You’re bonnie. Like, every point on his wishlist bonnie. Christ, he must’ve done something really good lately, because he can’t imagine just lucking into this. There’s not a hard angle to you, all sweet and soft, but when you meet his gaze during introductions there’s a sharpness to you that skewers him through the chest. You are much smarter than him, he can tell immediately.

He’s always had a thing for smart women. Soft ones, too. And if that weren’t enough, you let him flirt shamelessly with you, while checking him out the whole time.

Steaming Jesus.

You direct him to get onto the platform and sit down, still clothed, in an armchair draped in another pristine white sheet. The stage lights are bright overhead, and they highlight free-floating wisps of your hair in gold.

“You want to ensure that you don’t rest your weight on only one or two points,” you explain. You have a nice voice. Steady, confident—this is your territory, your studio, and in it you are clearly the master. “The main danger is that your arms or legs might fall asleep, and you won’t realize it until you get up, in which case you’ll fall. We can’t touch you, so we can’t save you from that.”

“Y’canna touch me?” Soap repeats.

“Not without your explicit consent,” you say.

He smiles at you, the kind of smile he saves for bright nights at the pub over platoons of shot glasses. “I explicitly consent to you touching me.”

The corners of your mouth tug upward, just a bit, and you look away, clearly bashful. Something in Soap’s chest starts beating a drum. He knows already he’ll ask you to drinks after the class ends tonight.

“I doubt I’d be able to do much,” you say, “you’re a bit more substantial than the usual models.” Your eyes flick down his torso and back up.

“Guess I’ll have to follow your advice, then,” he says.

“You should,” you say, and he looks at your thigh shamelessly as you pat it—even beneath your jeans, he can see the ripple of the impact. “One of the worst-case scenarios is nerve damage.”

“So you have done this before!”

He can’t help it—Soap’s imagination runs wild. Titanic, draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls wild. It’s not exactly polite to imagine a teacher naked while she’s in the middle of giving him directions (and Jesus, what a concept, he might be half-mast already), but Soap has always found that people like it when he’s a little rude.

You drum your fingers. “I have.”

He finally hears the nerve damage part of your instruction. “How, uh—how bad can it get?”

The drumming stops. “For me? It just starts to twinge a bit if I sit on this side very long. So don’t rest your weight all on one hip, yeah?”

Concern assuaged that he had not ignored your genuine pain in order to objectify you, Soap grins. “Yeah.”

“Good,” you say. “Also—even if it doesn’t hurt, Soap, you can stop at any time, okay?”

That has him blinking. “Kinda defeats the purpose, doesnae?”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter. This is your first time modeling. You don’t know how you’ll feel, sitting here with your clothes off and everyone looking at you. If you need to stop, I want you to stop. I’ll make sure you’re paid anyway, so don’t worry about that.”

You are…so serious about this. The line of your brows is furrowed, imploring, like a little discomfort on his part is a violation of the highest order.

“Sure,” he says, a little dumbstruck and mostly lying. He’d be a rubbish soldier if he tapped out of a little thing like sitting down, but it’s nice that you care.

You purse your lips, nod, and then move onto the task at hand, stepping back and then down off the platform. When you begin to survey him—gaze flitting up and down his body, more pensive than appreciative—he has to resist the urge to flex.

Instead he watches you as you look at him. He especially likes, he decides, the slope of your nose and the smart, serious press of your mouth. You could get him all turned around, he thinks, if you gave it half a try.

Your tits are also great, but that’s by the by.

“Try resting your elbow up a little higher, and twist at the hips a bit,” you instruct, and Soap obeys. “Hm. How would you feel about crossing your ankles?”

You continue like this—nudging him in directions he doesn’t think make all that much of a difference, standing in different positions around the room to check the angles. He half-wishes he could step out of his body and join you, curious as he is about what you’re seeing, what your students will see. He’s not sure he has any clear expectations for how the class will go, but if you’re any indication, it’ll be more fun than he expects.

“Not sure if I’ll remember how to get back into this,” he says, partly to be helpful and partly to get you to talk to him again.

“I’ll help you, don’t worry,” you say. “Okay, I think that’s a good one, you can move now—I’m going to start setting up, the students should be here any minute.”

He stands, and you turn away to collect your supplies, so Soap figures this means it’s time for him to strip. He pulls off his shirt and drapes it over the chair’s arm, unbuttons his pants and shoves them down to his knees.

“Soap!”

He freezes. Then he looks at you. You’re blushing again, deep and saturated, mouth parted in surprise and hand pressed to your chest. He does not miss the quick flick of your gaze down his body; he’s probably violated some rule or another of the studio, but he can’t help but grin.

You’re adorable.

“Gotta happen eventually, right?” he says.

You cover your face with your palm. “I was going to leave the room first!”

“First time someone’s wanted to run away when I’m takin’ my clothes off, I won’t lie—”

“You just come get me when you’re done!” you say hastily as you beeline for the door. “I’ll be right outside!”

Soap chuckles a little when you’re gone, the door slamming mortified behind you, and folds his clothes up behind the armchair he’ll be sitting in. You’re so cute. He can’t wait to sit naked for you for the next three hours.

And he’s definitely asking you out for drinks.

Author's Note: THE PROMISED FIC. I really hope y'all enjoy this one, I've been teasing it since March and I have so many plans. This fic has a special place in my heart because it's drawing heavily from my college days--my bachelor's degree is in fine arts, and I have a lot of fond memories of many hours in the studio both as a student and as a model.

I expect this series will also have a looser timeline than my Neighbors series, so I'm open to suggestion in terms of scene ideas! I already have plenty, but if I know my mutuals, y'all might have some good ones as well. No promises I'll write them, but you never know.

Thanks everyone for your patience, and I hope you'll look forward to where this fic goes!!

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halfmoth-halfman · 10 months

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a little small talk, a smile, and baby i was stuck

Pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Medic!Reader Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: fluff, medical inaccuracies, bruises, kinda hurt/comfort, gaz's helicopter curse Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters.

When Soap mentions the new medic, Gaz doesn’t think much of it.

It’s not that he doesn’t care; he’s just too preoccupied thinking about the upcoming mission to give it any real thought.

That is until Price sends him to retrieve a folder from the infirmary, and he quite literally runs into you. It’s neither of your faults; he’d been walking in just as you were leaving.

It’s a cosmically comical series of events.

You stumble back, rushing out apologies when your foot catches on his, and you nearly fall back into the infirmary. Gaz is quick to react, grabbing you by the waist to keep you from falling and pulling you back up to your feet with a strength you don’t expect.

You’re left staring at the face of this handsome stranger, your hands braced on his chest and his gripping tightly onto your hips.

A beat of silence as the two of you regard each other before a smile breaks across your face, laughter spilling out of you, and Gaz is immediately taken with you.

Your hands leave his chest, and he loosens his hold on you enough for you to step back and put some space between you. It takes a minute for you to compose yourself, your laughter dying down into tiny giggles. You extend your hand, giving your name and a stunning smile.

“Um, hi,” he smiles back, shaking your hand. “Gaz. Or Kyle. Either works; it’s whatever you prefer. Most people call me Gaz, though...but Kyle’s fine, too!”

A single smile, and you’ve got him stumbling over himself like a teenager.

He’s thankful you’ve stepped back from him. He doesn’t know what he’d do if you felt the way his heart hammers against his ribcage.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Gaz, and/or Kyle,” you laugh, giving him a teasing wink.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, you too.”

“And thanks for the save–” You step around him, his honey-brown gaze following your every step. “–I’ll see you around?”

God, he hopes so.

“Yeah, see you around,” he nods. You give him one last glimpse of that beautiful smile before turning on your heel and disappearing down the hallway.

Gaz stands outside the infirmary for an extra five minutes, staring in the direction you’d gone, a hopeless smile on his lips.

The doors click open, another medic stepping out and staring curiously at the soldier standing before him.

“Sergeant Garrick?”

Gaz snaps out of his trance.

The folder. Right.

Gaz finds every excuse he can to go to the infirmary.

He’s the first to volunteer if Price needs something from one of the medics. He lets Ghost get in a few extra hits during training. He’s even started to look forward to those pesky migraines he gets every few weeks.

He’s sure the others have started to notice. They don’t say anything, but he’s caught the small, knowing smile on Price’s face every time he returns a few minutes late from the infirmary.

The other medics are starting to catch on, too, he thinks. They’re always strangely absent whenever he shows up, suddenly busy with something on the other side of the room.

He can’t find it in himself to care, though. Not when he walks into the infirmary and sees your gorgeous smile as you cheerfully greet him.

“Price need something again?” you ask, smile dipping in a small frown when Gaz shakes his head. He holds up his hand, showing off his bruised and slightly swollen knuckles.

“Missed a throw during training,” he sighs, mouth tugging into a sheepish half-smile. “Got any ice?”

“Sit down.” He sits on the closest chair, watching you shift into doctor mode. You’re a good medic, you take your job seriously no matter how little the injury, and you seem to genuinely care about your patients. It’s one of the things Gaz lov–likes about you.

You pull up a stool, sitting close enough for your knees to touch as you examine his hand. Your soft, efficient fingers turn his hand this way and that, lightly pressing against the bruises on his knuckles.

“How’s the pain, on a scale of one to ten?”

“Barely a two.”

“Can you make a fist?”

He does, and you let out a quiet hum.

“Wiggle your fingers.”

“You want me to pat my head and rub my stomach next?” he jokes, moving his fingers. You pinch his hand, eyes flicking up to give him an annoyed look, but he can see how the corners of your mouth twitch up.

“Nothing looks broken or sprained,” you explain, sliding away from him to fetch some cream and gauze. “I’ll wrap it, but you should take it easy for a day or two and let the swelling go down. Come back if it doesn’t or if the pain starts to get worse.”

Gaz nods as you sit back down and get to work on his hand. He tries not to shiver at your gentle touch as you treat him, praying you don’t notice the gooseflesh that appears whenever you touch him.

“Sure thing, Doc.”

He lets you work in silence, content to watch you.

He wonders if you know your nose scrunches when you’re trying to focus.

“All done,” you say, smiling proudly at him while he examines your handiwork.

Gaz flexes his hand, the bandages not too tight, and hums in satisfaction. “Not bad, Doc.”

“Not bad?” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. He chuckles, a surge of confidence as he meets your eyes with a genuine and thankful smile.

“It’s perfect. You’re the best medic in the entire world. I am eternally grateful.”

“That’s what I thought.” You both know he’s teasing, but Gaz can see the way you straighten just a little bit more, your smile growing a little bit wider. “Now get back to work, and try to be more careful. For my sake.”

Gaz stands as you begin to clean up.

“If I was careful, you wouldn’t see me as much.” He’s teasing, but you freeze, your back to him as you finish washing your hands.

He hopes he hasn’t overstepped.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you sigh, turning to him with that same beautiful smile. “I’d miss you too much.”

He doesn’t get to reply as you’re called away by another medic, but he's positively beaming for the rest of the day.

Three months.

They’re estimated to be gone for three months, at least.

That’s three months away from base, away from you. After seeing you nearly every day, Gaz isn’t sure he’ll be able to handle being away from you for so long.

There’s nothing between you two, not officially, anyway. He knows he has no right to worry about you–about being away from you–when he hasn’t even properly asked you out.

You aren’t his…yet.

Anyone with a working set of eyes can see how you smile and laugh and flirt whenever you talk to him. He’s noticed how your gaze lingers on him when you think he isn’t looking or how you always find a reason to touch him whenever you’re near.

He’s at least ninety-six percent sure you'd say yes if he asked you out. He just has to gather the courage and do it before he has to leave.

His nerves get to him every time, and it isn’t until they’re four days out from departure that Soap decides he’s had enough and drags him to your office.

“Yer not leavin’ until ye ask them to dinner,” Soap huffs, knocking on the door before Gaz can stop him.

“Are you out of your–”

“Hello?” Your door opens a few inches, and you stare curiously at the two sergeants in front of your door.

“Doc!” Soap beams, putting his hands on Gaz’s shoulders to push him toward you. “Gaz has a question for ye!” He gives Gaz a good clap on the back before turning on his heel and leaving.

“Do I want to ask?” You blink at Gaz, one brow raised.

“Probably not,” he sighs. You stare for a moment, eyes bouncing around his face as you take in the small bags beginning under his eyes and tense shoulders.

“You want to come in?” you ask, stepping back to open your door further. Gaz nods, and you allow him into your office, closing the door behind him.

He sits in one of the chairs in front of your desk, unusually silent. He stares at your desk, something heavy weighing on his mind.

“Everything okay?” you ask softly, taking the seat next to him and placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“We’re leaving in a few days,” he mutters, frown pulling at his handsome face.

You swallow around the knot in your throat, “I know.”

“We’ll be gone for a while.”

“I know.”

“Do you–would you–” Gaz groans, leaning back in the chair and scrubbing his hands down his face.

Why is this so hard?

“Kyle?”

Gaz sighs, hands falling into his lap as he stares up at the white ceiling of your office. He peers at you through the corner of his eyes, heart aching at the worry and concern on your face.

“You’ll be here when we get back, yeah?”

“Of course, I’m not going anywhere,” you answer instantly. “Just–”

You stop yourself, teeth worrying at your bottom lip. Your gaze drops down to your lap, where your fingers twist and fidget with the ends of your sleeves. Gaz straightens in his chair, hands flexing as he debates whether or not to reach out to you.

He doesn’t, frozen to the spot when you look up and meet his gaze with watery eyes.

“Just promise you’ll come back in one piece.”

He shouldn’t. You both know that. It’s a chance he takes any time he steps off base; there’s no guarantee he’ll come back.

He won't make you a promise he doesn’t know if he can keep.

Gaz takes your hands in his, squeezing softly, pouring as much assurance as he can into the gesture.

“I’ll do my best.”

You choke out a laugh, a few tears slipping down your cheeks.

“You better.”

Gaz wakes up to the heavy smell of disinfectant and the steady beeping of a heart monitor.

It takes a minute for everything to come back to him. He remembers the gunfire, trying to get on the helicopter, Price yelling orders in his ear. They were in the air, and then an impact, and then…

They crashed.

He shifts, his entire body aching, bones groaning in protest. He groans at the pain, trying to swallow down the hurt.

“Gonna undo all their hard work if you keep doing that.”

Gaz turns his head to the right, finding Price sitting next to him in one of the infirmary chairs. He’s not looking at Gaz, busy filling out paperwork instead.

“Where’s–”

Price shushes him, nodding his head to Gaz’s other side. Gaz follows, his breath hitching when he finds you curled up in another chair, fully asleep and using a folded jacket as a pillow.

The heart monitor beeps with the skip of his heart, and Price chuckles quietly.

“Is that your jacket, sir?” Gaz asks, trying not to bring any more attention to the obvious.

“It’s yours. Gave it to them to help calm them down.” Price glances up at him, a knowing smile on his face. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

Gaz opens his mouth to speak, but you groan softly, shifting in the chair before your eyes blink open. Your brow furrows as your gaze travels up his body and lands on his face, where you finally meet his eyes.

Gaz watches you process before you’re out of the chair, checking over every inch of him and firing off question after question.

“It’s okay. I’m alright,” he laughs, ignoring the ache as he lifts his arm to softly press his hand to your cheek. “I’m here, love.”

“You–” Tears stream down your cheeks, and Gaz wipes them away with his thumb. “You absolute bastard! I thought you were–”

You don’t say it. You can’t say it.

Instead, you lean forward and bury your face in his neck, careful not to tug on any of the IV chords.

Gaz whispers soft comforts into your ears, lighting kneading at the base of your skull as he lets you cry into his shoulder. Price gives him a look, a silent question if he’s alright. Gaz nods, and Price stands to take his leave and give you two a moment alone.

You cry yourself out, pulling away and furiously wiping at your cheeks. “Don’t ever do that to me again, Kyle.”

Gaz laughs, soft and affectionate, “I came back in one piece, right?”

“You–” You’re trying to be mad, but he sees the smile you’re trying to bite back.

“I know, I’m the worst,” he grins. “Promise to make it up to you, though. How’s dinner sound?”

“I think you at least owe me dinner and a movie,” you joke, voice thick with emotion.

There’s that lovely smile.

“Dinner and a movie. Done.”

“And breakfast.”

“Moving a little fast there, sweetheart.”

You huff, folding your arms over your chest. “You’ve got three months’ worth of dates to make up for.”

“Fair enough.”

Despite the dull pain that vibrates across his body, Gaz smiles as he traces a hand along your jaw and pulls you forward into a sweet kiss.

A soft knock at your office door interrupts your focus on the paperwork spread out over your desk.

“Have you got a minute?” your husband asks, peeking his head in through the door.

“For you? Always,” you grin, happily abandoning your paperwork as Gaz walks in, closing the door behind him.

You meet him halfway, arms winding around his neck to greet him with a kiss.

“Wanted to stop by before we have to head out,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling you back in for another kiss.

Three years later, and he can’t help but fall in love with you every time he sees you.

“How long will you be gone this time?” you ask, pulling away to settle your head in the crook of his neck.

“A month, maybe two.”

You sigh, warm breath fanning across the skin of his neck. Gaz hums, taking your left hand in his to press a kiss to the ring on your finger.

“Promise you’ll come back in one piece,” you whisper softly, looking up at him with a teasing smile. Gaz chuckles, turning your hand over to glide his lips over your palm to the pulse in your wrist.

“I’ll do my best.”

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #mw fics #moth writes #private

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sunonyoreface · 1 year

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He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 15

An: Took a bit of a break to work on my school stuff, thanks for your patience and understanding! If you can't tell from this chapter, I really missed Soap. Lots of angst to come ;)

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 3700

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, angst, military setting, explicit language, graphic depictions of violence, use of guns.

Soap’s arm brushes against mine as we make our way to an unexpected meeting called by Captain Price. He’s the only stability I have right now. My joints feel weak and unnatural as they carry me through the corridor.

As soon as Ghost landed the helicopter in Ludza, I was ushered off and escorted to a solitary room somewhere deep within the base by a group of men I didn’t recognize. That was yesterday. This morning I’d never been so relieved to see Soap.

He says something along the lines of “It's been dunky's since I last saw ya,” and while I don’t have the slightest idea what he means, I’m just glad it’s him.

His right forearm is wrapped in gauze and looks like it’s supposed to be in a sling. Maybe it was in one for a day or so before he grew irritated from the lack of mobility and tore it off. I don’t know if the new injury is from his previous mission or the attack by the Ultranationalists, but I’m smarter than to ask about it right away.

“So, why did Price call a meeting?” I ask.

“Not sure, but it’s important enough for my whole schedule to change,” There’s something different about his voice. I’m not sure if he’s annoyed or relieved. Maybe neither. Maybe he’s almost as concerned as I am.

The part of the building we’re in is underground. Most of the base is. It’s an eerie feeling knowing that if something went wrong, we’d be trapped down here. But this base is newer and better equipped than the last one. I get the impression that they use Latvia as their main base because it’s closer to Russia. Closer to the Ultranationalists. But I can only speculate. Maybe this is nothing compared to their other compounds.

I can’t stop thinking about Simon – Ghost – I don’t know what to call him. It’s like the names belong to two different people and I never know which one I’m about to encounter. One is reluctantly vulnerable, damaged, caring, and tender. He yearns for more. While the other… is, something else entirely. Ghost is cold and industrial, the perfect killing machine whose all stoicism and no emotional interference. There’s an indifference present with Ghost: he’s witnessed and partaken in so much violence, so much heartbreaking cruelty that every other human emotion is out of reach. They are two sides of the same coin.

I toss a quarter in my mind and pray it lands on tails. I catch it in one hand and flip it onto my palm. Soap opens the office door as I reveal its face: heads.

Dark eyes peer out from behind that damn skull mask. He stands just beside the entrance while Price leans against a table. The only thing on its surface is a clunky, black laptop.

“Sir,” Soap nods to each of them as I duck my head and follow in behind him. The last time this happened, everything changed forever.

“Sit down, y/n,” I know it’s going to be bad when Price skips the small talk. I feel my blood pressure rising. My neck is warm and my cheeks flush. I sit on the foldable chair directly in front of him. The brim of his hat dips as he looks down at me, still leaning against the table. Soap takes his place at the other side of the door opposite Ghost. Their eyes on me heighten my anxiety. “Take a breath darling, you look about ready to fall over.”

A weak, nervous laugh bubbles from my chest. I try and relax my shoulders but I think we both know this is as good as it’s going to get.

“I’d like to thank you for alerting us to the Ultranationalist’s plan, it greatly improved our reaction time. Probably saved some lives,” Price says, but in my mind drifts to the others that were lost as a consequence. “But for our sake, I need to know everything that prisoner told you.”

So I tell him. I like Price and he’s always been decent toward me, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared of him. Ghost didn’t plan this thing alone. He’s had a hand in everything I’ve endured and has less of an inclination than Ghost to trust me. I don’t know a lot about the English military, but I know his rank means something. He holds power. If he wanted me to disappear, I would without a trace.

As I talk about the things the prisoner said I hear a few grumbles behind me from Soap. I look predominantly at Price but cast a few glances at Ghost who breaks eye contact every time. His actions are far from reassuring.

“Fucking knew there was a mole,” Soap’s voice is bitter with distaste. Ghost shifts as he casts a warning glare in his direction. My mouth feels dry after talking so much.

“Not now, Sergeant,” Price cautions him. This is the kind of discussion I can’t hear. For all they know I’m the mole.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Y/n there’s one other matter we need to discuss,” his attention turns to me. I feel Ghost’s eyes intensify as he watches my reactions. Did he say anything? My heart skips a beat. The inside of my cheek throbs as I nervously bite down on the flesh. Surely he wouldn’t. Right? But their bond runs much deeper than anything he and I had for that single night. When it comes down to me or Price, Ghost would choose him a thousand times over.

Maybe he did say something. What happens then?

I look from Ghost who refuses to make eye contact to Price who won’t look away. He knows.

“It has to do with information discussed at the safe house,” breathing becomes incredibly difficult. My hands clench into fists. Deny everything. Nothing happened. Nothing.

“Okay,” I sound guilty. I sound treasonous. Ready to be put down by a firing squad.

“Lieutenant Riley said you expressed an interest in viewing our tapes of several Ultranationalist attacks,” Relief washes over me as my shoulders sink into the chair. Ghost didn’t tell him. “Specifically the ones involving your father.”

My eyes lock onto Price. His words spin around in my head and part of me refuses to believe I heard him correctly.

“My father?” Swallowing feels impossible. My throat is sandpaper the whole way down. My head is light and a sudden gust of wind could blow me away like a tumbleweed.

“Affirmative,” he uncrosses his arms to brace his hands along the table. “I have them here,” he tilts his head, motioning to the laptop. I look between him and Ghost who finally makes eye contact with me. He wasn’t lying. There really are videos.

My head starts to shake. “I don’t-“

“It’ll make what I have to say next a lot easier,” Price interrupts. What he has to say next? What’s next? What’s worse than this? How could watching my own flesh and blood commit a heinous crime make whatever he is going to say easier? My stomach turns.

“Okay,” I mumble. My hands are being forced. I don’t want to see whatever footage he has.

“Right then,” He moves away from the table to log onto the computer. Already pulled up, ready to play, is surveillance footage of an Ultranationalist attack. “This was in France. Nine months ago. At a soup kitchen.”

Price clicks play and I watch the scene unfold below. A group of armed men dressed as soldiers enter a packed building with people in line for food and sitting at rows of tables. The camera catches the back of their heads. Sewn to their shoulders is the identifying patch underneath the Russian flag. They line the walls and a staff member starts to approach just as they open fire on the crowd. Two minutes of chaos ensue until every single person is riddled with bullet holes. I feel the bile creep up the back of my throat as I sit there completely stunned at what I’m witnessing. It can’t be real. It can’t be.

As the dust dies down, the line of men turns to exit the building. It’s now the camera narrows in on their faces. Their unmasked faces. Not a single man is trying to hide his identity. No. They’re proud of what they just did. I recognize him immediately, even at a distance and in a uniform completely unfamiliar to me. The man leading the group is undeniably my father.

Devastation snags my jaw like a left hook and I feel my face start to crumple under the pressure. What the fuck. It’s real. It’s too real. The first tear falls and I quickly wipe it away, but I know they saw. I can’t stop my head from shaking. I can’t believe he would do something like that. The same man who raised me. Who I thought was so kind.

“Next one also took place in France. South this time,” Price’s voice remains calm. I feel ashamed. I feel dirty from his actions.

I watch three more videos of similar attacks. In the final one, there’s a closeup of the men involved. It’s the first time I’ve seen my father with a beard, but it’s still him through and through. My own flesh and blood. How could a man do something so horrifying? How could he justify his actions?

My stomach turns and I fight the urge to throw up. Full-body tremors take over my weak frame. I wrap my arms around myself in a small attempt to find comfort. I hate the fact that they see me in such a state. I’ve never felt so vulnerable in front of a group of people before. Let alone a group actively hunting down my family. If I can even call him that.

I wish I was back in that cabin, wrapped in Simon’s arms. He’s known this whole time. He tried to warn me. If only I knew how bad it was going to get.

“It’s a lot,” Price starts. “Which is why I’m going to let you sleep on my next question.”

I nod, still staring at the floor.

“Will you help us lure him out?” I should’ve seen this coming. That’s what this has all been about. Using me to get to my father, maybe even Makarov. Ghost said so himself. But now they want me directly involved. Why?

“I don’t know,” I mumble.

“Think about it,” Price’s answer is short and to the point. He’ll give me time, but his patience is limited.

“Will you kill him?” my voice wavers. It’s a brave question, but I’m not brave enough for Price’s answer.

“That’s up to him,” his voice is resolute. The ambiguity of his answer is anything but reassuring. “That’ll be all for now. We’ll reconvene in the morning. Soap, she’s to stay in her quarters for the rest of the day.”

“Yes sir,” I feel his good arm on my upper back guiding me out of the room before I even realize what’s going on. In the hall, his hand rubs reassuring circles between my shoulder blades. “Do ya want food?”

“No,” I sniffle. I need to get it together before we pass the cafeteria full of men. “Thanks,” I mutter through a deep breath as I wipe my eyes for the last time. I find myself leaning into his touch. There’s a softness to Soap that’s too easy to get attached to.

My eyes are swollen, but at least I’ve stopped crying. Exhaustion seeps into my joints. Just walking feels strenuous.

“Still on babysitting duty, Suds?” a vaguely familiar voice taunts from across the room. A blond man in full gear leans against the entrance to the dining hall. He’s speaking to Soap, but his eyes never leave me. Chills run down my spine.

“Shut up ya fucking latrine queen, I don’t have time for your shite right now,” Soap shifts to my other side, placing some distance between myself and this man. He urges me to walk with a gentle hand but my feet start to slow.

“You know,” suddenly his voice doesn’t sound so vague. It’s the same man from the transportation van. The one who made crude comments toward us. The same one Ghost shut up by pulling rank. “Rumor has it you knew about the ambush.” The man raises his hand to point at me. Guilt swells in my chest.

There are only the three of us in the hall connecting the offices, cafeteria, and sleeping quarters, yet I’m afraid someone else will hear his accusations.

“Friday shouldn’t have gone down like that,” any previous teasing tone is gone. There’s real anger behind his words. “Our men died because of you,” I freeze at his words. The overwhelming feeling in my chest starts to spill over. Death follows me everywhere. He’s right. They died because of me. Others are still in the infirmary. Because of me.

Does he see my father when he looks at me? Is that what they all see? A contorted excuse for a human, twisted to the extent even mirrors don’t recognize?

Overwhelming anxiety and despair push me to the edge. I feel the tears threaten to fall again. I can’t let him see me cry. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

My feet take off sprinting down the closest hall, toward the sleeping quarters. My heart thunders in my ears, drowning out the sound of Soap calling after me. I don’t care. I need to get away from here. They blame me. They all blame me.

The empty corridor is lined with doors that blur as I run past them. Each leads to a room with a single twin bed. But no one’s here. Downtime isn’t for another while. I don’t know where I’m going. Anywhere. It doesn’t matter I just need to get away. Panic and adrenaline course through my veins. Tears cloud my vision and I can barely see.

When I hit the black object, It initially feels like a wall: hard and unmovable. But then his arms constrict around my torso, trapping me against his chest. I try and push off him which causes his grip to tighten even more. My mind flashes back to that night he held my arm so hard it bruised.

“How did you-”

“Where’s Soap?” Ghost’s unmistakable voice thunders in my ear. He sounds pissed. I blink away the newest tears. My emotions feel scrambled. His fingers press into my flesh. Ghost knows he has me. He doesn’t need to be this rough.

“Simon, you’re hurting me,” my throat is sore as my voice cracks.

His breathing falters and immediately the pressure is lifted. Ghost’s hands clench into fists at his side. I don’t know who he’s angry with anymore. Me, Soap, or himself? Part of me still fears him. Of what he’s capable of. Despite it, I don’t step away. I missed the heat of his chest seeping into my own. I want to feel the tenderness he’s capable of.

He sighs, collecting himself for another moment before speaking again. “Why are you running in the halls by yourself?” Ghost’s voice is significantly softer, but I don’t miss the urgency still present. A large hand brushes down my arm. It’s the only comfort I’ll get for days.

“I left him,” I mumble, refusing to make eye contact.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” I lie. The huff of his chest tells me he knows I’m lying. But there’s no time for him to push further. Feet thunder down the hall as the thick Scottish accent echoes off the walls.

“For fucks sake y/n,” Soap is audibly annoyed, but it’s only surface deep. “You can’t just run off.”

“Sorry,” the words tumble from my mouth. I hate this. I hate all the attention. All the expectations. Having to be on my best behaviour. The lack of freedom. All of it.

“What happened,” Ghost inches away from me as he turns his attention to Soap.

“I took care of it,” his thick words jumble together when he’s out of breath, but Ghost is used to it. What does he mean by “took care of it?”

“Is this something I have to tell Price?”

“Nah, shouldn’t be a problem again,” there’s a slyness to his tone. Soap tucks his hands into the side of his vest and it's now that I notice the red swelling at his knuckles. I watch Ghost’s eyes flicker down to the same spot.

“Right then,” he looks between the two of us. “I need to talk to you later,” Soap nods, seemingly already on the same page. Ghost casts one last glance my way before taking off. Conflict brews in the eyes beneath the skull mask. We need to talk. Question is, when? There’s a strange expression furrowed between Soap’s brows as he watches the interaction. One almost of suspicion.

I get an entire room to myself. I feel spoiled by this most basic accommodation. A twin bed, dresser, toilet, and sink. Like a luxurious jail cell. No windows. Not this deep underground. But at least there’s privacy. Tired feet drag their way toward the mattress.

Soap leans against the doorframe, bright blue eyes closely following my figure.

“What happened out there?” his voice is soft as he reaches for the door, slowly pulling it closed behind him. My eyes flicker from his to the swollen knuckles wrapped around the handle. My brain is foggy. His actions are slightly ambiguous. Does he mean today? Or at the safe house? The door silently latches into place as he blocks the only exit. What does he know?

“Out where?” I force myself to maintain eye contact. My hands nervously fist the comforter.

“The safe house,” Soap’s head tilts as he examines my reaction.

People are quick to dismiss Soap because of his openness towards others. He’s kind and doesn’t expect anything in return. There’s no hidden ulterior motive behind his actions. Johnny is simply a good person. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t done the same thing.

But his kindness, his ability to connect with others makes him better at reading people than the rest of the task force. Next to Ghost, Soap is who you have to be so damn careful around. He’s been right there beside Ghost for more interrogations than I can count. But they’re not always bloody and violent. Sometimes they’re soft. Sometimes they’re done by someone you thought you could trust. The right interrogator will caress your cheek and wipe your tears as they coax exactly what they need from your swollen lips. Soap knows exactly how to get information from different types of people. He is dangerous. I can’t let my guard slip around him. He’ll know.

“What do you mean?” I ask, crawling further onto the bed to rest against the wall. I need to stay composed. For a moment I was certain Ghost didn’t tell Price, but I didn’t even consider Soap. They’re closer than anyone else on the task force. Their secrets have to run deep. Chances are he could know already but wants me to confirm it. Or Ghost lied to him and he caught on. What if my story doesn’t match his?

“He’s barely spoken a word since you returned. Something’s up,” Soap steps away from the door, cautiously closing in on the distance between him and the bed. I scan his face just as carefully as he does mine. But I lack the years of experience and training that he has. All I have is my gut. And right now I don’t know what’s the truth and what’s a lie.

“Nothing happened,” I attempt, but it’s apparent my words don’t take when Soap starts to shake his head.

“I don’t wanna do that with ya,” his voice is reserved as he crosses his arms. Nerves start to crawl their way back up my spine. Every part of me feels on edge.

“He was angry I didn’t say anything about the Ultranationalists before the attack,” I mirror him, folding my arms across my chest. It’s true. Just not the whole truth.

I watch as he processes my words. As his eyes narrow and his brows pull closer together. Soap’s sharp jaw angles down as he considers his next words. Something is eating away at him.

“Did he do anything?” I don’t hide the confusion stemming from his quiet words. What would he do? Why is that the first thing that comes to his mind?

“No,” It slips from my mouth in a rush, but I catch myself. “Well, we fought, but that’s it.” The sigh that escapes his chest is heavy and his stance remains closed off. I don’t know if he buys it. “It’s fine. Really. Soap I’m sick of talking about this. I know I fucked up. Every damn thing I do out here is a fuck up. Can we just leave it at that? Please?” I quickly wipe at the stray tear that escapes.

“Don’t talk like that lass,” Soap’s shoulders soften as he uncrosses his arms. His feet risk another step forward, but then he stops. Something about his expression is pained. His hand twitches at his side like he wants to reach out and comfort me. My mind drifts to how it would feel to have his strong arms wrapped around my frame, how safe it would feel…

Soap reigns himself in. He knows he’s tiptoeing the line of his assigned duties.

“Can I get you anything from the cafeteria?” He retreats into safer territory.

“No,” I sniffle. “Thanks.”

The heavy Steel-toed boots thud along the floor. “I’ll drop off a plate,” Soap says as he closes the door behind him. The loud clank of the lock rattles throughout the room. The fog clouding my thoughts mutes the aching betrayal throughout my body, eventually lulling me to sleep.

My father planned the murder of hundreds of people. Innocent people. Mothers and children. Refugees trying to build a better life for themselves. Vulnerable civilians unable to stand up for themselves. All for what? Political gain? What kind of a sick bastard views mass murder as a tool for power? I can’t believe I’ve been so clueless. Maybe he does deserve to die. Maybe we both do.

I don’t notice the plate of food sitting on the empty dresser the next time the door opens. Something else snags my attention.

My sleepy eyes narrow in on the dark, ominous shadow looming in the corner of my room.

Someone is here.

Pt 16:

#simon riley cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost imagine #ghost fanfiction #cod ghost #cod fanfic #cod imagine #soap cod #soap x reader #cod #ghost mwii #mw2 imagine #mw2 fanfic #call of duty mwii #he knows

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scuttling · 1 year

Text

Don’t You Want Me

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Spencer Reid/Female Reader Word Count: 1,365 Tags: 18+ NSFW, Friends to lovers, Protected sex Summary: You and Spencer sing “Don’t You Want Me” at team-bonding karaoke night, and it’s just what you needed to take your mutual pining to the next level. A/N #1: This was going to be a whole thing, but… now it’s this 😝 I was writing a cute soft sfw Spencer tonight but then I remembered this existed and here we are. A/N #2: The Glee version of the song slaps and no I will not take criticism 😩 I didn’t have it in me to write drunk karaoke but it would go a little something like that!

“I realized something tonight,” Spencer says, leaning closer to you where you sit in his living room, on his couch, and you look up from his lips to his wide, dark eyes. He’s so close that you can pinpoint everything that makes up his scent—clean sweat and soap; a dab of fresh, citrusy cologne; whatever fruity drink Garcia handed him last; and ink, always—and it feels comfortable, cozy. Just right.

It’s not the first time you’ve felt it, but the first time you let yourself acknowledge it for what it is. The first time you let yourself… hope.

“What’s that?” you ask, aware of his hands at his sides, your hands in your lap, the breath between you. He cocks his head, a gesture you’re familiar with; he just changed his mind, had one thought and let it get away from him that quickly, to make way for another. He’s hard to keep up with on the best of days—because you’re smart, but not Dr. Reid smart—but lately you can’t seem to get him to say what’s on his mind before the thought is blinked away.

“Everyone on our team is a terrible singer,” he answers dryly, instead of whatever his initial thought was, and you laugh, louder than you mean to. “Including you.” He grins, and you shove him lightly in the side, and when he brings his hand up to catch your wrist to stop you, or perhaps playfully retaliate, your fingers touch.

It’s just a brief brush of skin, but it’s followed by a more deliberate drag, his long fingers over the back of your hand, and you feel a warm tingle of pleasure vibrating in your chest. He slides your hand toward him and rests it on your denim-clad thigh, still covered by his own hand; he doesn’t pull away, and neither do you.

It’s the most innocent of touches, and yet somehow scorching in its intentionality. It means he may be thinking the same thing you are. It means he might actually want this, too.

“I realized something, too,” you admit after a beat, because your inhibitions are slightly lowered and he is a very cute man on your couch, the man you’ve been thinking about for so, so long.

“Really? What’s that?”

You bring your free hand to his arm, squeeze it gently, and smile softly when he shifts closer yet. Your lips are inches from his, and he looks a little nervous, but intrigued.

“I want you… baby.”

It takes him a moment to connect the dots—the addition of the pet name has clearly caught him off guard—but when he does it’s like a switch is flipped. He leans in, brings a hand to your cheek, and pulls you close for a long, slow, deep kiss, one that leaves you panting against his mouth when it breaks.

“Can you say that again?” he murmurs, face tilted so his lips hover over yours, and you nod seriously, wrap an arm around his shoulders.

“I want you, baby,” you respond just as quietly, and you press up to kiss him, run your fingers slowly through his hair.

You kiss for what feels like forever, his lips soft against yours, his hands carefully roaming down your arms, over your thighs, to your hips. It’s any easy shift to get you into his lap, closer yet, your body pressing against his, and your kisses become more passionate—they’re less controlled, quicker, deeper, messier. Delicious.

He breaks the kiss to softly caress your face and neck, leans in to suck the hot skin of your throat, and as you moan in response, you can feel his erection growing beneath your ass. You ache for him, too, the discomfort of blood swiftly rushing south a pleasurable pain, and you grind your hips down, searching for pressure and friction and earning a groan at your throat.

“I want you,” he pants, swiping his tongue over a deep, stinging bruise of his own creation; raising your arms, you tug off your t-shirt, reach behind you to unclasp the hook of your bra. The look on his face when it falls away makes you wetter, nipples instantly reacting to the cool air of the room.

“You’ve got me, Spence.”

He needs no further consent or instruction, just moves his broad palms to your waist and lavishes your breasts with sinfully targeted attention; he sucks more marks into your soft flesh, carefully closes his teeth around a nipple, and you writhe in his grip, panting, whining.

“You are so gorgeous.” He leans up to cradle your face, kisses your lips with a soft, wet mouth, and you can’t help yourself, you start moving against him like a desperate, greedy teenager. He groans into the kiss, then turns the both of you, gets your back against the cushions of the sofa.

You know you must look debauched, the way he stares down at you—you’re breathing hard, flushed and soft and covered in love bites—and it just sets your body aflame, makes you feel alive like no one has in a very long time.

He bends down, kisses you, and unbuttons your pants, slides them off with your eager assistance. Your panties follow, and almost as if he can’t stop himself, he dives down, spreads you with one large hand and slides his tongue over your clit. It feels so good, his fingers slipping through your slick, his mouth hot and perfect as he licks and sucks and makes your body shake with pleasure.

“Spencer, Spencer,” you whine, breathless, your hands on his head and his shoulder; when he eventually looks up, cheeks pink and mouth wet, the light sheen of sweat on his forehead dampening his hair, he is everything you love about him, everything you find so goddamn irresistible. “Oh, god, please.”

Pressing up to his knees, he releases the buttons of his shirt and tugs it out of his pants, pulls it off, deposits it over the back of the couch. His pants are next, then socks and underwear, until he’s finally naked, and then he’s on top of you so fast it almost takes your breath away.

You kiss furiously, hungrily, the earlier care you'd both taken with each other still present, but almost overridden by the desire to connect, to come together, to feel as close to one body, one soul, as two people can get.

He whispers a “one sec” against your lips, leaves and returns with a condom he slides on while you stare at his long fingers, long lashes, long… everything. His middle fingertip finds your clit, draws tight circles and presses down and makes you squirm as he slides his cock into you; he feels so right, so good, then better as he continues to rub you until you clench around him, tight as a vice as you come.

You murmur his name, praise him with an endless supply of hushed sounds and words, and then he starts thrusting, quick and deep and easy with how absolutely soaked you are.

“God, so good, so so good,” he repeats, moving his hands to either side of your head and leaning in for soft, eager kisses you blissfully reciprocate. You wrap your legs around his hips—when you finally regain strength in them—and hold him tightly, tug at his hair until he comes with a stutter and a hot puff of breath on your ear.

Despite the undeniable pleasure that courses through you, that he must feel too, you both return to that earlier, more tentative state of soft touching, soft kissing, soft words. He brushes a hand over your cheek, and you squeeze his shoulder, smile, and let your head fall back against the pillow.

His weight atop you feels heavier than you'd expect, post-orgasm, his body more solid than it looks; you enjoy slow, tired kisses—a frankly adorable, stupid smile on his face and a slight blush on his cheeks—and hushed talking that eventually loops back into the comfortable, playful teasing that started it all.

With a sigh, you make a promise to the both of you:

You'll never complain about team-bonding karaoke again.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x female reader

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callsign-bunnie · 11 months

Note

I have a really specific AU. Younger (about 24) alphas Gaz and Soap with older (34) omega Rudy. They move into the house next door and quickly are smitten with the older omega. But, Rudy is married to Wayne, who’s an abusive jackass (I’ve picked up the pattern). They watch Wayne break Rudy down and eventually get rid of him somehow (maybe murder but it’s up to you) and rescue Rudy from him

I would love smut from this but it’s okay if not!

I dunno if um... this shows. But, I liked this prompt SO MUCH that

So, anyway.

Rodolfo clasped his hands together to hide the way they were shaking as he watched Soap gently close the door to the house, saying goodbye to the police officer as he left. “Have they heard from him??” He asked, watching Soap cross the room to him.

Gaz was on the couch beside him and Rodolfo frowned when they met eyes before Soap was crouching down and shaking his head. “They said he must have just up and left.” Gaz murmured. “I’m sorry, Ms Rudy…”

“I don’t-” Rodolfo paused, furrowing his brows. “I don’t understand… I… I… My husband wouldn’t just leave like that… There must be some mistake… Let me try calling him again, maybe he’ll answer-” He got out his phone, but Soap gently took it from him. “Johnny-”

“Ms Rudy, he’s not going to answer, and it… it worries me to see you upset.” Soap’s voice was slightly gruff and he took Rodolfo’s hands after handing the phone to Gaz. “The police are looking for him…”

“In the meantime, you can keep staying with us.” Gaz’s arm went around Rodolfo’s shoulders and then the scent of alpha was washing over him, causing him to melt involuntarily.

Rodolfo supposed he really couldn’t stay in his house… It was in Wayne’s name and he had no doubt that Wayne’s brother would be moved in days after he found out Wayne had left… “I… I…” He still hesitated. If Wayne did come back and found him in this house, who knew what reaction he’d have… Rodolfo had only just got out of the hospital from the last time Wayne had gotten angry. “I can’t…”

“Ms Rudy, please…” Soap’s voice softened and his eyes pleaded with Rodolfo. Oh, how Rodolfo found it hard to deny either of the boys when they gave him those eyes. He was weak to them, and he had a feeling they were beginning to catch onto it. “We-”

Gaz stopped Soap. “Just for a few more nights? Please? We’re worried about what might happen if you go home in this emotional state. If your husband does come back, I doubt it’ll be tonight and… Well, neither of us want to see an omega go home in distress… Please? Just for us?”

Rodolfo turned to look at Gaz, seeing he looked just as pleading. “I… Alright…” He gave in, though he tried to make the resolve not to stay longer than that night. Just that night… “Just for a few more nights… Soon, I need to go home…”

“Okay.” Both nodded and then seemed to relax. “I’ll get a few more of your things.” Soap said as he stood, again, smiling. They both almost seemed excited, Gaz kissing his cheek before getting up and going to the kitchen.

Rodolfo reached up and touched his head, trying to imagine how he’d gotten there.

Rodolfo had met Wayne when he was 17. He’d recently moved away from his home city, from his friends, including a long term crush he’d had on his best friend, and Wayne had been the first person to talk to him.

Sure, Wayne was an alpha and Rodolfo was an omega, but Rodolfo had figured that omegas and alphas were friends all the time, he hadn’t thought it would mean anything.

Until it did. In fact, it had meant something only 2 weeks after they’d started to hang out frequently. Rodolfo had suggested they go to a drive-in and Wayne had asked ‘like a date?’ Rodolfo hadn’t quite been sure how to answer, but… maybe the idea of being wanted had excited him.

So, he’d said ‘if you want it to be.’

‘I’d like it to be.’

And, they’d started to date. They’d been on again, off again, but neither really had any friends to talk sense into them and encourage them to stay split up and… well, maybe that had encouraged Rodolfo to stay with Wayne. If he left Wayne, he’d have no one, no friends… nothing.

He had a handful of family members, but none of them liked Wayne, so they refused to talk to him about the alpha. Looking back… Rodolfo wished he would have picked that up as a red flag, but hindsight is 20/20…

It’d been the 90s, after all and well… Progress was being made, but it wasn’t much progress. Most people still had very traditional views on relationships and… Well, Wayne fit that. He was strong and domineering and maybe a little controlling, but Rodolfo liked the idea of fitting in so very much, so he’d pretty much ignored any negative trait.

And, to be fair, there hadn’t been much before they’d gotten married. Wayne talked over Rodolfo, he got angry, he was… possessive, but that was it. Rodolfo had been able and willing to overlook all of these traits, since… Well, he loved Wayne. Hadn’t he? Or had he loved not being alone?

Their relationship had followed the obvious path, anyway. Married when Rodolfo was 21, had a large wedding. Wayne was 31, he’d quit his janitor job at the high school Rodolfo had attended, and he’d found a quick big boy job with the degree he’d been underutilizing until this point. Rodolfo had agreed to be a stay at home wife to support Wayne’s career and at first… he’d loved it.

Honestly, he still loved it. He loved spending time at home and cooking and tending to the house. Sure, he would like to be out, doing something but… Well, Wayne had destroyed any chances of him being able to do that, at this rate, so he didn’t mind being a stay at home wife.

However, with Wayne’s new job had come stress. They’d started to fight a lot, Wayne started to drink. He started to get violent and Rodolfo had started to get very, very anxious. And then… it’d happened. Rodolfo couldn’t even remember what they’d been fighting about but he did remember that Rodolfo had said the wrong thing and Wayne had grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the wall, threatening to kill him if he ever spoke that way to him, again.

The worst part? Other people always talked about how the first time their husbands hit them, they’d received a gift, an apology, but Rodolfo hadn’t received anything. Maybe Wayne had known Rodolfo had nowhere to go… His family had cut him off, he’d cut his siblings off, he had no friends, no contacts… Nothing. So, if Wayne hurt him, he couldn’t do anything about it.

However, Rodolfo had been smart and he’d never spoken to Wayne like that again. After that… the only times Wayne got physical with him were for things that weren’t his fault. Or… petty things, things he had minimal control over. Wayne had came home early, so dinner wasn’t done. Rodolfo had forgotten to lock the door after Wayne left. The grocery store had been out of roasts when he’d went, so he couldn’t make one that night.

Things like that.

In a particularly harsh fit of rage, Wayne had thrown Rodolfo at a bookcase and damaged something in his spine, making it so his work options were limited. And, over the years he’d developed some health issues, too. He wasn’t sure if he could blame them on Wayne, or not but… well, he didn’t care. Chronic fatigue, something with his lungs, his spine…

Rodolfo had very easily fallen into the fragile housewife role. They moved to a smaller town, four years into his marriage, and everyone sort of came to know him as fragile and kind of airy. “Touched.” He would blame that one on Wayne. If everyone thought he was unstable, who would believe him if he tried to leave?

It was okay, Rodolfo could live with it. Wayne had calmed down around his 40th birthday, some, and now he rarely hit Rodolfo. More just yelled at him, but… Rodolfo would rather be yelled at than hit, honestly.

Then, they moved in.

The town they lived in was, as mentioned, small. Not… incredibly small, but small enough that someone moving in made ripples in the social pool. Two alphas moving into the same house together… made waves.

And, they’d moved in right next door to Rodolfo. Wayne had had a fit, saying it was abhorrent, against nature, against faith. But… Rodolfo and Wayne didn’t even go to church, so that made little to no sense to him. Whatever. However, Wayne had firmly instructed Rodolfo not to talk to them. Not to bake cookies to welcome them into the neighborhood, not to even say hi.

That sounded ridiculous and maybe Rodolfo was a bit rebellious, because he’d done it anyway.

Hey, Wayne had never found out.

Rodolfo had finished all of the cleaning that would need to be done for the week, and he had a whole chicken in the oven to cook, so he was currently sitting and resting on the couch, fanning himself. It was hot, close to 80 degrees and it felt worse due to his chronic fatigue.

However, Wayne didn’t want Rodolfo turning on the AC until a little later in June. Who cares that Rodolfo was burning up… no! Wait! Rodolfo made a frustrated sound, trying to listen to the TV and debating taking a cold bath in an attempt to cool down. Or…

Well, Wayne had just opened the pool and he’d never minded coming home to Rodolfo in his swimsuit. Rodolfo grinned to himself, already half up when he heard the doorbell ring. Frowning, he turned to look at it, a bit confused.

He didn’t have any packages and it was a Tuesday… Hmm, odd. But, he didn’t like to keep potential guests waiting, so he went to the door, looking through the peephole and frowning as he saw his new…er neighbors were standing outside.

Johnny Mactavish and Kyle Garrick, though they apparently went by Soap and Gaz, respectively. Both were alphas, though Soap was a bit on the shorter end, not much taller than Rodolfo. They were young, too, only 24 which was a whole decade younger than Rodolfo.

Both were incredibly sweet, occasionally coming over to offer to do things around the house, which Rodolfo had had yet to accept. Wayne hated them, saying it was abhorrent that they were allowed to move in but… Rodolfo didn’t think they were together. They acted like they were just friends and both had shown an obvious interest in omegas.

Rodolfo carefully unlocked and opened the door, smiling as he looked out. Soap was leaned against the doorway, his arm up to presumably shield his eyes. It was around 5 o’clock, which didn’t mean the sun was setting, quite yet, but it was lower in the sky and so it was a bit more imposing.

“Hello, boys, can I help you with something?” He asked, politely. He assumed they were just asking him if he needed assistance with anything, which he’d just politely decline.

“Hello, Ms Rudy!” Gaz spoke up before Soap could, half grinning at him. They were both attractive, Rodolfo would admit. Both clearly put time into working out and, though Soap’s haircut was a bit ridiculous, they were both distinctly adult alphas, if clearly young.

Oh, yeah, and they called him Ms Rudy. He’d corrected them several times, but he’d given up at that point. Gaz continued, “we noticed the grass was getting a bit long and with the heat, we wanted to offer to mow it.”

“Both of you?” Rodolfo raised an eyebrow, though he was more amused than surprised. Soap and Gaz seemed to do everything together… At least, they were constantly offering to do things together. However, Rodolfo just shook his head. “No thank you, my husband should be doing it, soon.” He doubted it, but Rodolfo knew the HOA would send a letter and then he’d have to.

“Oh.” Soap was the one to speak, this time, looking mildly disappointed. “That’s alright, Ms Rudy. What are you doing this evening?”

Rodolfo shook his head. “Swimming, if I can help it. My husband is set to be home soon, so I wanted to enjoy-” He stopped and frowned, feeling his phone buzz. “I’m sorry, boys, just one moment.”

He closed the door and looked at his phone. Sorry, baby, but I got called away on an emergency business trip. I should be back tomorrow.

Rodolfo made a frustrated sound. He had an entire fucking chicken in the oven! What was he going to do with that?? Well… he supposed he’d have to split it up and put it in the freezer and… That sounded exhausting, already. That’s alright! I’ll see you tomorrow.

No reply. It was okay, he didn’t need one. He’d rather go without. He turned back to the door and opened it, relaxing when he saw the alphas were still there. “Sorry, that was my husband. He’s been pulled on an emergency trip, so… I will just be swimming, I guess.”

Gaz and Soap both frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Soap said. “That’s unfortunate.”

Gaz, however, snorted. “I don’t get how he can be away so much. Feels like every week he’s getting pulled away.”

Rodolfo flushed and winced, since Gaz was close to right. Almost every other week, his husband was getting pulled away on a trip. “He has a good job,” he gave the excuse, though he got unconvinced stares back. He winced, again. “Are you boys hungry?” he decided, since feeding them might likely get rid of a decent portion of the damn bird and then he wouldn’t have to fucking fight to get it all frozen.

“Always!” Soap grinned, again, and Gaz agreed. “Why do you ask?”

Rodolfo smiled, liking their enthusiasm. “Well, I was expecting my husband home and so I cooked an entire chicken. Why don’t you both come back in about two hours and I’ll give you some containers of it?”

“Sure!” Soap answered, and Gaz, again, agreed. They were sweet… “Don’t rush, Ms Rudy, enjoy your pool time, we can wait.”

Rodolfo found himself blushing a little, but he nodded. “Thank you, Soap.” Both alphas said bye before heading off and Rodolfo closed the door, going to get his swimsuit on.

When the food finished, he had to drag himself back in from the pool, but he was quite put out to realize that he couldn’t find any of the containers. Oh no… he’d thrown all of them away because they had a greasy feeling left on them…

A knock on the door made him flinch and he tried not to freak out, unsure how he would handle this. His husband may not have noticed a few containers… but plates? He would definitely notice that. Oh no, oh no, oh no!

But, he needed to answer the door, so he took a deep breath, hoping he could mask his distress, and went to the door, answering it and relaxing as he was greeted with Soap and Gaz, again. But, both immediately frowned and Gaz stepped forward. “Ms Rudy, are you alright?? You smell in distress…”

“No, no, I’m fine!” Rodolfo quickly reassured, shaking his head. “I… I realized that I threw away my containers and so I have nothing to put your food in.” He tried to smile to assure them and relaxed when they both relaxed. “Come in, I’ll make you both plates and you can eat it here.”

And he’d deep clean that night to wash the smell out of the house. His husband would never notice it.

Both alphas grinned and Rodolfo relaxed, more, letting them in. He went to the kitchen after closing the door and led them to the dining room before going into the kitchen and making them plates of food, which he promptly brought to them.

“It smells amazing.” Soap immediately said. “Everything you cook smells amazing, though, it makes me jealous. I try but I don’t think any of it comes close.”

Rodolfo blushed, flattered, and he simply laughed as he pat Soap, setting Gaz’s plate in front of him before leaving to get his own. He noticed the way both alpha’s eyes followed him as he sat and it had him blushing more. Especially when he realized that he’d never changed back from his swim suit.

Embarrassment filled him, as well as insecurity. He knew he wasn’t old, but he certainly wasn’t young and… well, he had surgery scars on his back, which could be seen. He stood and went, pulling on one of his covers before coming back and sitting down.

“Are you cold?” Soap asked, frowning.

Rodolfo shook his head. “No, I just wished to be covered.”

“Why?”

Rodolfo winced, unsure if he should tell the truth. “No reason.” He lied, though he could see how unconvinced they were and he looked down at his plate, starting to eat. He shouldn’t be insecure, they weren’t his husband but… even his husband had commented on how ugly the scars were. “How is it?”

“Fantastic.” Gaz immediately answered, smiling. “Perfect. I wish I had an omega like you, Ms Rudy.”

More flattery. Rodolfo was more and more sure they weren’t together. They were friends, though it was closer to a “with benefits” thing. So, the judgment they received didn’t quite fit. “I’m sure you’ll find one.” Rodolfo assured. “You’re both sweet alphas, I have no doubt there are plenty of omegas who would be happy with you.”

“None we want.” Soap muttered and Rodolfo frowned. Soap seemed to notice and went red. “We uh… have our eye on one.”

“One?” Rodolfo smiled, amused. He thought one between the both of them might get tired, quickly. They were sweet, but they were young. Soap was hyper and he had an easy time riling Gaz up, though Gaz tended to be a bit more mature. “I mean this as a high compliment, but you boys might need more than one omega to keep up with you.”

He watched them both go more red and look away. “Yeah, well…” Soap huffed, softly. “They’re with someone!” Gaz suddenly glared at Soap, but Soap pushed on. “They’re with an alpha and he treats them like shit!”

Rodolfo frowned. “Oh…” Poor things… To watch someone you cared about in that way be treated so poorly must have been hard. “That must be painful… Have you two tried to talk to them about it?”

“She won’t leave him…” Gaz spoke up. “We’re worried she won’t let us in her life if we tell her we think she should leave him…”

“Omegas can be stubborn.” Rodolfo agreed and then furrowed his brows, having a hard time coming up with advice he should give them. “Do you two want to convince her to leave him?” He looked at them both, seeing they immediately nodded.

“Hmm…” Rodolfo furrowed his brows. Well, he agreed that them telling her outright might not lend to desirable outcomes. “Does she have any family?”

“Not that we know of… She doesn’t talk about herself much.” Soap muttered. “We try to ask but… she’s a bit cagey. I think it’s her husband. We know he’s hitting her, we’ve seen it.”

Rodolfo did his best not to tense at the mention of abuse. “You… have? How?”

They both suddenly went dead silent and looked away. Rodolfo frowned and shook his head. “I won’t press for an answer but… maybe talk to her about her husband… Ask if she thinks her husband mistreats her.”

“Maybe…” Gaz mumbled and then he made a frustrated sound. “We both like her so much and we try to do things for her and she just won’t let us…”

Rodolfo considered when he told them no. “If her husband is mistreating her, she likely is worried about the implications of having other alphas do things for her. What would he do if he found out?”

Neither looked like this had occurred to them, before, and after a moment they both slumped their shoulders and hung their heads. “We didn’t think about that… I hope she didn’t get in trouble for us asking.” Gaz mumbles and Soap nods in agreement, staring at his plate.

Rodolfo took sympathy, reaching and touching Soap’s shoulder before smiling at Gaz. “She likely hid it. We-” He stops, wincing. “We omegas,” he corrected, though he saw the way they looked at him, knowing they probably picked it up, “are smart. Quick.”

“I hope so… I’d hate to know we’re the cause of her being hurt.” Soap mumbled. Rodolfo pat him before pulling his hand away and turning back to his food. “Regardless,” Soap continued. “She’s amazing and… she deserves better.”

“I’m sure she’ll snap out of it, eventually.” Rodolfo shrugged. “When that happens, you both can be her knights in shining armor.” He teased, watching both puff their chests a little. Soap was grinning.

Gaz sighed. “Maybe her husband will just fucking keel over and die.”

“One can only wish.” Soap snorted.

Rodolfo frowned, not liking talks about that. He knew he would be fairly upset if his husband died, even with how Wayne treated him. However, he didn’t say anything and just smiled at them. “It looks like you both have finished your food… Did you enjoy it?”

“Oh, it was fantastic, Ms Rudy.” Gaz immediately said. “Your husband is a very lucky alpha.”

Rodolfo couldn’t help his blush, falling for their flattery, even if he knew what it was. “Thank you, boys. Well, you both better go home so I can do the dishes-”

“Nonsense!” Gaz spoke up. “Let us help! I can wash and Soap can put away. You can go back to swimming.”

“It’s too dark to keep swimming.” Rodolfo laughs softly, but sighs and shakes his head. Well one thing he hated to do was dishes. Shoving his hands in gross dish water did not sound appealing. “I don’t want to make you boys do chores…”

“Please, Ms Rudy?” Soap looked at him and gave him these big, soft eyes.

Rodolfo looked at him and then he was giving in, having no choice in the matter. “I guess since you’re offering…” He smiled, glad he wouldn’t have to do the dishes.

So, he showed them what to do and then left, going up to his room and changing from his swimsuit to a nightgown and then slipping a robe over it. He wished he had more plain nightwear, but… well, Wayne liked going to sleep next to something pretty and lounge pants or the cotton nightgowns weren’t pretty, apparently.

So, most of what he had was silk. It actually felt rather nice on his skin, honestly. He went back downstairs, watching Gaz and Soap mess around while they washed dishes.

God, he would admit the sight was… a pretty nice one. They were both attractive alphas, he wouldn’t lie. Maybe he should, to preserve himself, but… he couldn’t help but admit it. He knew they’d make an omega, or hopefully two, very happy someday.

Though he was beginning to accept they may have been a package deal. Chuckling softly, he decided he pitied the poor omega that may get landed with that package deal.

They’d have to have a lot of grace and patience…

Rodolfo dug at the flower box around his house, trying to fight down his tears. He’d gotten a text that morning. Hello, Rodolfo… You don’t know me, but-

He’d known before even finishing the rest of the text what it was going to contain. She’d had pictures and videos, too. Screenshots of texts where his husband was complimenting her on her body, setting up times to see her…

None mentioned him, thankfully. Rodolfo thought he might do something drastic if they had. She hadn’t even known he was married, but had immediately come to tell Rodolfo when she’d found out.

None of the business trips were real. They were all a lie, meant to keep him placated while Wayne found some younger, hotter omega to fuck. He knew why, too. Rodolfo wasn’t young. He wasn’t pretty.

He was… washed up. He wasn’t new to his husband. He wasn’t useful.

The tears finally started and he broke down sobbing, shoving his trowel into the dirt and ripping off his gloves so he could cover his face and then he hunched over slightly, choking on his own sobs.

His husband was going to be gone for two whole weeks, so he had two weeks he had to be alone while dealing with this news… How was he going to manage that??

Of course, how would he deal with Wayne still being there… It was the end of June, he could just relax in his now AC filled house, sleep a lot… Bake things for himself and just try to enjoy an existence of tentative peace until his husband returned.

Until his husband returned… he didn’t want him to. Fuck, he didn’t want him to. He sobbed harder with just how much he didn’t want his husband to return, and he prayed he wasn’t crying loud enough for his neighbors to hear. That would be mortifying…

Speaking of, he heard footsteps approaching, and quickly tried to shut himself up, wiping his eyes and then looking up into Gaz’s deeply concerned eyes. “Ms Rudy?? Are you alright??” He offered a hand and Rodolfo accepted it, letting him pull him up.

Soap was nearby, of course he was.

Rodolfo tried not to notice the way Gaz’s pulling pulled him right into his chest, just backing away immediately. “Yeah, I’m alright, boys.” He lied, trying his best to smile. “I um… Pinched my finger in the rose box and I guess it hurt more than I thought it did…”

“Oh Ms Rudy, you have to be careful.” Soap said, softening. “You shouldn’t have to do such hard labor, you could get hurt.”

Rodolfo found himself blushing and he had to admit, the way Soap phrased it was… a bit refreshing. You shouldn’t have to. Not that he shouldn’t. Not that he couldn’t. Rodolfo shouldn’t have to. Maybe he was too used to being told directly what to do and what not to do, but… he found himself grateful to not be, for once. “Thank you, Johnny, but I’m alright.”

He turned away, crouching down to grab his trowel and gloves, putting them both in the gardening box. “Did you boys need something?”

“Just saw you out here and wanted to come say hi!” Soap grinned.

Rodolfo smiled. “Well… hi.” He fanned himself, feeling how hot it was. He was excited to go inside and experience the crisp 70 his husband kept the AC on. Drink something cold… maybe take a nap on the couch. If he didn’t feel like making dinner, well he didn’t have to eat.

Wayne had commented on his weight a few times, anyway, clearly he needed to watch it…

Both boys seemed to hesitate and clearly just saying hi hadn’t been their only intention. But, Rodolfo didn’t want to wait for them to spit it out, so he went to his door. “If you don’t mind…”

“That’s alright.” Gaz nodded a little and Rodolfo relaxed. “Goodnight, Ms Rudy.”

“Goodnight, Kyle.” Rodolfo nodded and gave them both a smile before heading inside, relaxing. Alright, nap time.

Rodolfo jerked awake from his bed, hearing noise in the living room. It sounded like a loud crashing and panic flooded Rodolfo’s system immediately. However, he got the bat from under Wayne’s side of the bed, taking a deep breath. He didn’t need to fight whatever it was… he just needed to get outside.

He peeked over the balcony of his second floor, seeing lights moving downstairs and immediately backing up.

Two lights which meant two flashlights… hopefully. But, they seemed to be away from the door, so he went back into his bedroom, grabbing his landline to call 911, praying they’d come.

He tensed as the phone rang, taking deep breaths.

However, right as the operator answered, a hand grabbed his mouth, covering it tightly. “Well, well… what have we here…”

Rodolfo tensed, immediately, his heart pounding. His brain screamed to panic but he could only go still, dropping the landline when prompted.

“What a pretty omega…”

The smell of alpha washed over him as well as cheap cologne. Rodolfo tried to suppress his trembling, squeezing his eyes shut as his thigh was grabbed and then grasped tightly. Please don’t… He internally pleaded.

Then, their hand went upwards.

Sheer panic, that was what it was, because a moment later he was slamming the bat back as hard as he could into their side and shoving away from them, racing to the stairs. He ran down them, trying hard not to stumble, before screaming and jerking to the side as another alpha reached to grab him. The force of his movement caused him to fall and he cried out as he hit the ground, only screaming again when his ankle was grabbed and he was dragged away from the stairs.

An impact hit his side and he felt the wind knocked out of him, coughing and trying to remember how to breathe. He recovered, even while they shoved him onto his back, and reached up, trying to shove them away.

They clawed at him, tearing through his dress, and he screamed again, kicking and trying to push himself away. Tears streamed down his face when he was sat on, his hands held down. “Fuck, you’re feisty.” The alpha snarled.

He heard the other come down the stairs and terror filled him as he realized what was going to happen. “Please don’t…” Rodolfo sobbed, begging. “You can have anything else in the house that you want, anything…”

“You’ve made me go through so much fucking effort.” The first one sneered, crouching down. “I have to do it on principle, honestly.”

They both shared a cruel laugh and Rodolfo shook his head, begging more for them not to. He begged even as his legs were held down and his dress shoved up, kicking and struggling against their hands.

“Look at him…” The first murmured. “This is going to be fantastic, I can tell.”

Rodolfo tensed as a third person came up behind the second, barely recognizing Gaz before they were shoved off of him and to the ground. Gaz then punched the second, snarling and shoving him down as well.

Rodolfo was yanked up a moment later and pulled into someone’s embrace, recognizing Soap’s scent as it washed over him. “Ms Rudy! Are you alright?!” Soap made Rodolfo look at him. “Aye, your face… It’s all beaten…”

Rodolfo couldn’t say anything, he just continued to sob as he hugged Soap, trembling and shaking.

The police arrived a few moments later, where Gaz revealed he and Soap had called them when they’d heard glass shattering next door. It made sense, Gaz’s room was apparently right next to the kitchen window they’d broken in through.

John Price, the Sheriff, took Rodolfo’s statement. Rodolfo explained everything as plainly as he could, managing to calm enough to speak. “Where is your husband, Mrs Parra?”

“Away… on a business trip.” Rodolfo wiped his eyes. “God, I hope he doesn’t feel the need to come home over this…”

Price looked at him. “Hmm. Well, nothing appears to be stolen. The window can be fixed. Don’t call your husband. Kyle can fix windows, and I’ll send someone out to watch your house.”

“Kyle?” Rodolfo asked, surprised, since everyone called Gaz Gaz except for him.

“He’s my son.” Price shrugged. “Adopted.”

Rodolfo was incredibly surprised, immediately looking at Gaz, who looked away, appearing sheepish. “I… I didn’t know that. Uh… thank you.”

“Rodolfo, look.” Price sighed and touched Rodolfo’s arm. “I know that… there are other things, but… is Wayne hitting you?”

Rodolfo’s face grew hot and he immediately jerked away. “No!” He lied, easily. “My husband is a good alpha. He takes care of me.”

Price didn’t look convinced. “If you ever need to get away from him or… anyone else… call me.” He handed Rodolfo a little card. “Kyle will help you, too. So will Johnny.”

Rodolfo almost cussed him out but… he looked down at the card which had Price’s name, phone number, email, and badge number on it, frowning a little. “I… alright.” He accepted it because…

Well, Price was right. Wayne was hitting him. Maybe one day Rodolfo would grow a spine and try to get away. So, he accepted the card and when Price finally cleared, he put it in his skincare drawer. Wayne constantly made fun of him for it, so he knew he wouldn’t look there.

He went back downstairs, glad to see that Gaz and Soap were still there. “Ms Rudy?” Gaz asked. “Are you alright?”

Rodolfo lied and nodded. “I am… Just… reeling. You never told me your dad was the Sheriff, Kyle.”

Both alphas winced, almost looking ashamed. “Not many know…” Gaz admitted. “Soap and I are judged so much already… I can only imagine what comments would be made if everyone knew that my dad is the Sheriff… Though, I don’t really know how no one has picked it up since our accents are the same.”

Rodolfo softened, taking empathy. He understood that. He took a deep breath. “I… I should go back to bed…”

“Alright…” Soap was the one to speak. “Sleep well, Ms Rudy.”

They both went to leave and terror immediately washed over Rodolfo as he realized he’d be completely alone in the house. What if they escaped and came back?! “Boys, wait-” He stopped them, rushing forward.

Both immediately turned to look at him and Rodolfo winced, cringing back a bit. “I… I know it might be a bit odd but… could you boys stay with me, tonight? I’m… I… I’d feel better with two alphas in the house…”

Both seemed to pause before a soft grin was breaking out on Soap’s face. “Of course, Ms Rudy…” He nodded and both alphas shared a glance. “Do you want us to sleep on the couch?”

Rodolfo was… doing something dangerous, he knew, but… fuck, he was terrified, and his husband wasn’t meant to be home for another week and a half so… “I… it’s alright if you say no but… I… I have a couch in our bedroom… I dunno if both of you would fit, so one could sleep down here if comfortable…”

“I can sleep on the floor. I’m a bit tall for a couch.” Gaz spoke up, smiling. “I’ve slept on the floor before.”

Rodolfo hesitated before nodding, not wanting to insist. He’d feel a lot safer with both in his room… So, he started up the stairs, relaxing more and more as they made it up to his bedroom. He got into the closet, getting out the extra pillows and blankets they had in there before starting to help them set up the couch and floor.

“If you need one of us, just say our name. We’ll wake up, I promise.” Gaz murmured as he got set up on the floor.

Rodolfo hesitated before relaxing and nodding. “Thank you… both of you… I promise it’ll just be tonight…”

“That’s alright, Ms Rudy! You went through something horrible, I’m not judging you.” Soap spoke up, already sitting on the couch. “Neither of us are.”

Rodolfo hesitated before softening and taking a deep breath. He really felt so much better with them in his room, so he climbed back into the bed and took a moment before laying down, and trying to fall back asleep.

Well, it wasn’t a restful sleep and it was full of evil awful alphas and… Wayne…

So, he shouldn’t have been shocked when he woke up crying out in fear and shoving ghost hands off his body, pleading to not be touched.

“Ms Rudy??” Both alphas were awake, immediately, and staring at him. “Are you alright??”

“Yeah- Yeah..” Rodolfo panted, hugging himself. But… he wasn’t. Not really… He trembled and pulled his knees up before covering his face, starting to cry.

It was so absurd! But his mind immediately dragged up that his husband was cheating on him and with the house just having been broken into, he wanted to scream and cry and run away and…

He sobbed into his hands, his entire body shaking with fear and grief and pain… When Wayne came back, he was likely going to find some reason to pick a fight, he always did, and Rodolfo just… he just didn’t want him to come home.

Arms wrapped around him and he found himself not wanting to shove them away. He was desperate for comfort wherever he could get it. For a moment, it felt like rain washed over him as he was scented, but he’d picked up that scent from Gaz, before.

It was… comforting and he leaned into the alpha, moving to cry into his chest, instead.

And then a fiery vanilla was surrounding him as a second set of arms wrapped around him. It mixed well with the rain, he would admit, and he melted into both scents, his sobs slowly subsiding until he was left with occasional hiccups and sniffling.

“We’re right here, Ms Rudy… We’re not going to let anyone hurt you…” Gaz murmured, reaching up to pet Rodolfo’s hair.

Rodolfo relaxed, though he knew that couldn’t be true. They couldn’t protect him from his husband. Eventually they would have to go home. Eventually Rodolfo would be left with Wayne…

After a moment, all three laid down and both alphas curled tight around him, effectively shielding him from the rest of the world. Safety came with their touch and a pleasant, warm sleepiness as well that he gladly started to fall into, confident he would finally be able to have decent sleep with them both there.

So, he took a deep breath and then dozed off.

Well, a full week passed and Rodolfo hadn’t been able to find in himself to send the alphas home. They dutifully stayed with him and though they had moved back to the floor and couch, Rodolfo slept a lot easier with them there, even easier than he had before the breakin.

And, they’d done a lot of things around the house that he had been begging Wayne to do. Fixed the fridge door, changed several light bulbs, and had even finally put the dimmers in the bathroom so he could happily just rest in the bathtub with plenty of bubbles and dim lights…

Which he’d already gladly taken advantage of.

They also did the dishes after every meal, wouldn’t let Rodolfo even touch them. It was… so nice. So much nicer than Wayne…

Rodolfo found himself almost dreading Wayne’s return… more. Because then he’d have to go back to that instead of these pleasant alphas who treated him like he was something special instead of trash.

It was going to suck when they had to go home…

Rodolfo sighed as he looked over the pamphlet for a craft fair. He loved them, but Wayne never went with him and… well, he didn’t want to go alone.

“Ms Rudy, are you alright?” Gaz asked, sitting next to him on the couch. “You look disappointed.”

“Oh, I…” Rodolfo winced and set the pamphlet to the side. “It’s nothing. Just this craft fair thing. I’d like to go but… doesn’t look like I will, this year.”

“Why not?” Gaz frowned. “When is it?”

“Tomorrow.” Rodolfo hesitated. “Wayne hates them and… well, I don’t really want to go alone. It’s alright, there’s always next year.”

“Why don’t we go with you??” Gaz perked up. “Soap actually likes those things. Then you don’t have to go alone.”

Rodolfo blinked, surprised. “I don’t want to force you boys to go with me… It really is alright-”

“Nonsense. I’ll go tell Soap about it.” Gaz stood and waved him off, leaving to where Soap was in the backyard, fixing the pool deck as a few boards have came loose.

Rodolfo hesitated before letting himself get excited to go. He hadn’t been to one since he was in his early twenties and he was so unbelievably happy to go to one. Wayne gave him a decent monthly allowance, so he had so many things he wanted to buy, already, though he hadn’t seen the stock.

That was okay, he would see what there was when he got there!

Rodolfo stood in front of the mirror in his closet. He’d give his husband one thing… he liked Rodolfo to look good, so he had a massive wardrobe. Wayne usually bought Rodolfo anything he asked for, if Wayne decided it was in reason. Which… few wasn’t.

He ran his hands over his sundress, a white one that was a bit loose so he wouldn’t overheat, and then slipped shoes on before going down the stairs to where he saw Gaz and Soap were waiting.

He tried not to blush as he saw the way both alphas’ eyes almost appeared to light up as he came down and he looked away, shy. He stepped closer to them and then he gasped as his arm was grabbed by Gaz, suddenly. “You have a tattoo?” He asked, lifting Rodolfo’s arm.

Rodolfo laughed, softly. “I do. Got it when I was young and dumb.” It was a sparrow on the inside of his arm, it’s wings stretched out. “I… probably should cover it.”

“No!” Both immediately said and then Soap smiled, sheepishly. “We like it.” He explained.

Rodolfo hesitated before relaxing, nodding. He decided that it wouldn’t be the worst to have it out. He doubted his husband would find out that he was showing it off. “Okay.”

“You are simply bonnie, Ms Rudy.” Soap murmured as they started to head out.

Rodolfo recognized the word and softened, thanking him before heading to the car and getting in to drive. It wasn’t a long drive, Rodolfo had practically memorized the route that morning, so excited to go.

And he found it harder and harder to contain that excitement as they arrived and got out, smiling and quickly leading them up to where everything was. He did notice it was hot, but he brushed it off, not wanting to let worry ruin his day.

The first thing they did was stop by a stand selling fresh lemonades and Soap paid for it all, insisting. Rodolfo decided to accept it, though he had a decent amount of his allowance left.

Rudy sipped his lemonade as they walked around and he looked at all of the things, though not much particularly struck his interest. Well, until he got to a stand selling a wide variety of soaps and other spa essentials.

The woman, another omega, was very kind to him, asking him about his skin concerns and then recommending things to him. She was a very good saleswoman because he ended up purchasing quite a few things from her. Well, he didn’t purchase them, because before he could even get out his card, Gaz had stepped forward and given his, shrugging in response when Rodolfo said he didn’t have to.

So, she bagged everything up and he happily looked through everything he’d bought, getting out a few to let Soap smell at his request. One of the things was a little bottle of a “bath brew” which was made of coconut, black tea, and a few other things that he was so excited to try.

He was already imagining taking a bath, soaking in the wonderful smell of coconut and black tea…

Soon, Soap found a vendor selling popcorn, which Gaz and he apparently loved. Rodolfo wasn’t much for it, but he did find particular interest in a vendor selling cookies. But… he tried to refrain. “I’m on this diet,” he explained when questioned, leaving out that Wayne had shown him it. “I really should avoid cookies and sugars.”

“You don’t need diets.” Gaz laughed. “You’re soft and curvy, like an omega should be.”

Rodolfo flushed dark and really tried not to let that go to his head. “My husband likes his omegas thin. I want him to be happy.”

Gaz went to say something, but Soap stopped him and Rodolfo frowned. “I don’t think a cookie will mess anything up. Besides, it’s hot and I worry you’ll pass out if you have no sugars.” Soap spoke, smiling.

Rodolfo supposed Soap had a point. The salted caramel one might have a fair amount of sodium, too, which he needed a lot of. “Alright. You’ve convinced me.” He nodded and went to the vendor, managing to pay for the cookie himself this time. Well, since he was there, he paid for a cake pop, too, since he hadn’t had one in forever.

Then, he gladly continued to follow Soap and Gaz around, carefully enjoying the cookie and cake pop, while looking around. One stand was selling large sunhats, which had floppy brims, and he couldn’t help laughing softly as Gaz put one on his head. “Do I look pretty?” Rodolfo joked, posing a little.

“Gorgeous.” Soap grinned. “Get it, Gaz.”

Rodolfo’s skin had remained a dark red the entire afternoon, and he feared it may continue on. Both boys were adept in flattery. He let Gaz buy him the hat and continued to wear it around, having to hold onto it at a few breezes.

Finally, they stopped to have actual food, Soap picking them up something from a vendor while Rodolfo and Gaz sat at a table. Rodolfo wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and panted softly, again thinking about how hot he was.

He was fine, though. He had to be.

“I haven’t been to a craft fair since my early twenties.” He confessed. “I love them but… Wayne never wants to go. I don’t want to go alone.”

Both alphas shared a look before Soap smiled. “Well… if you find another, we’d gladly go with you, Ms Rudy!”

“Thank you,” Rodolfo smiled, “I appreciate it, boys.”

“We’d do anything for you, Ms Rudy.” Gaz murmured, his expression turning serious. “Anything.”

Rodolfo frowned, a bit surprised by his change in tone, but then he smiled. “Thank you… But I don’t need you boys to do anything. Just staying with me has been enough…”

“Even still. You ask and we’ll do it, okay?” Gaz continued and Soap nodded in agreement. “Anything.” He reiterated.

Rodolfo smiled, though he was still surprised, and shook his head. “Thank you. I appreciate it. Come on, let’s finish eating.” Which, they did, in mostly silence. When they were done, Soap got rid of the trash and then Rodolfo followed them around again.

He bought several more items which caught his eye, which included a fancy journal, a beautiful letter opener, and more soap and bath items. As he walked, however, he felt more and more hot until…

He paused as they were walking and held his head, darkness clouding at the sides of his vision. He took deep breaths and tried to keep it at bay, but he couldn’t, and he was slumping forward, caught by Gaz before he hit the ground.

“Ms Rudy??? Ms Rudy?!” Gaz and Soap both asked.

Rodolfo panted, his head light and his lungs not feeling like he could get enough air. “Sh.. I’m alright, boys. Just light headed…” He tried to stand but his legs wouldn’t work and he couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper.

Both alphas seemed to react to that, immediately, and Gaz was then lifting him up and carrying him away. He tried to protest but when he was placed in his car in the backseat with Soap, who gently pet his hair, his nails scratching over his scalp, he couldn’t find it in himself to protest that much.

His husband never would have done that, in a million years. So, he maybe selfishly enjoyed the feeling of an alpha doting on him. “You should have said something…” Soap murmured.

Rodolfo shook his head. “I wanted to keep looking… I really am alright, a fuss didn’t need to be made.”

“You passed out!” Gaz exclaimed and Soap agreed. “I think that calls for a fuss!”

Rodolfo didn’t quite agree, but he was appreciating the attention so he just shrugged and closed his eyes, curling close to Soap. Leave Wayne for them. The thought intruded in his skull and he immediately shoved it out.

No.

Wayne would kill him before he let him leave and Rodolfo loved his husband. He did. He didn’t want to leave him.

Soap continued to scratch over his scalp and Rodolfo couldn’t help purring softly, flushing at the soft growl he earned in response. “Wayne doesn’t deserve you…” Soap murmured. “You’re too good for him.”

“That’s not true.” Rodolfo defended, shaking his head. “Wayne loves me… I love him.” He murmured. “I…” He should have been angry about the statement, but he wasn’t. God, he was pathetic. An alpha treated him semi nice and he was already forsaking his husband.

Soap touched his face and Rodolfo glanced at Gaz, seeing him use the rearview mirror to glance at them. Soap’s thumb rubbed under Rodolfo’s eye before Soap pulled his hand away as they parked.

Rodolfo looked out and his blood ran cold as he saw his husband’s car parked in the driveway. Oh no… He must have come home early.

As soon as they parked, his husband came outside and Rodolfo could tell just by glancing at him that he was angry. He tensed and tried not to freak out, just taking a deep breath and steeling himself. “Just go home, boys.” He murmured.

Soap and Gaz both looked at him, but Rodolfo didn’t wait for an answer, going around the car and smiling. “Wayne, mi amor… You’re home early.”

“Yes. I came to surprise you.” Wayne’s tone was neutral. Too neutral. “Our neighbors?” He questioned.

Rodolfo nodded to confirm. “They were helping me run an errand. That’s all.” He’d get the stuff out of the car later.

“Right. Get inside.” Wayne gestured.

Rodolfo could only imagine what would be waiting for him. He, however, smiled and turned to Soap and Gaz, waving bye. “I had fun! Thank you for helping me out!”

Soap was glaring deeply at Wayne, but Gaz touched Soap’s arm and tugged him away and back to their house next door.

“I come home early to surprise you. I brought you gifts.” Wayne’s voice was barely above a snarl as Rodolfo finally went inside. “And I receive a text as I’m pulling in from Norma Malves down the street. She’d went to some event today and saw my omega being carried by the two alphas next door.”

Rodolfo winced. “I just… I wanted to go, you weren’t here…”

“That explains why their scent is all over the house then, doesn’t it!?” Wayne gestured so hard he knocked one of Rodolfo’s pictures off a nearby table.

It smashed into pieces on the ground and Rodolfo flinched hard. That was a mistake. Wayne hated when Rodolfo showed fear. Within seconds, he was against the wall, Wayne in his face. “You’re afraid of me?!”

Rodolfo shook his head, frantically. “No, Wayne. No, I’m not! You’re my husband! I love you, please…” He wasn’t afraid, he was terrified. Wayne was the monster in his bed, his worst fear.

“That’s right! I am your fucking husband! I’m sick of you blatantly disrespecting me!” Wayne was snarling in his face, his breath hot against it. “You’re scared of me, aren’t you?! AREN’T YOU?!”

“No! No!” Rodolfo pleaded before he was shoved down to the ground.

Wayne stood above him, panting. “I’ll give you something to be fucking afraid of, Rodolfo. Trust me.”

Rodolfo laid in the hospital bed and he had to admit, he was sick of them. Wayne had hardly made an excuse this time. The doctors knew who they were, so he’d just went, “you know how he is.”

They’d all just nodded and admitted him. A few of them had given him sympathetic looks. One had even shook her head in shame. “Wonder when he’s going to leave him.” She’d said, in earshot, to another nurse.

Of course they knew. Why wouldn’t they.

Wayne had sort of just dropped him off, too, and he hadn’t been back. Rodolfo was half dead and he’d just ditched him. Probably to see one of his other whores.

It was hard not to be bitter at that rate. He was tired of being in pain, and he was sick of everyone around him just watching it happen. He was… sick of Norma Malves. She wanted Wayne. She can have him. That’s why she’d told him.

He couldn’t even cry this time. He was too tired.

He frowned and looked up when three people entered the room, recognizing John Price, the Sheriff, and then Soap and Gaz. “You two should go…” He murmured. “Wayne is still upset and since I fell down the stairs, he’ll be more on edge.”

“About that…” Soap murmured and came over. “We… We saw Wayne pack up his things and left. His car is gone from the driveway.”

Another business trip.

“He’ll be back.” Rodolfo sighed and shook his head. “Just give him time.”

“He closed out several of his credit cards.” Price spoke up. “Withdrew all of the cash from your bank accounts.”

Rodolfo blinked and then frowned. “What?” He tried to sit up, waving Soap off when he tried to help. “No, no, my husband wouldn’t just… just… no. He wouldn’t.” This was absurd. Wayne wouldn’t just run off and abandon him.

All three winced and Price came and sat by the bed. “We want to be sure, first. But… just in case… I’m going to ask you to stay with Kyle and Soap for a while, okay?”

“I can’t…” Rodolfo shook his head. “Where’s my phone?” He looked around for it before grabbing it off the side table and immediately dialing Wayne’s number. We’re sorry. The person you are trying to reach cannot come to the phone right now-

Rodolfo hung up, cold seeping into his body. “He… He wouldn’t…” He murmured, furrowing his brows. “He wouldn’t abandon me…”

“I know this is probably distressing.” Price murmured and touched his hand. “Kyle and Soap will be able to help while we look for him. We’ll update you if we find anything, okay?”

Rodolfo stared at him and then his body nodded before his mind even processed what he was saying. But, then his brain caught up and he quickly shook his head. No! If Wayne came back, he’d just be beat even harder if he was with them! “I can’t- I-” He started to panic and tried to breathe evenly.

Gaz came over and gently took Rodolfo’s hand. His eyes softened and so did his voice. “Ms Rudy… Please… I’m worried about you being alone… As soon as Wayne is found, you can go home and we won’t even tell him, okay?”

Rodolfo blinked up at him. Immediately his mind told him that it wasn’t fair, that he shouldn’t be giving in so easily to their puppy eyes but he was as soon as they gave them to him. He hesitated, but barely, before nodding. “Okay…” He relaxed and calmed. “Okay… I think I get discharged tomorrow…”

“We’ll be here to pick you up.” Soap spoke up, smiling. “Do you want us to stay with you in the meantime?”

Rodolfo hesitated before nodding again. “Please…” He relaxed more, and then settled back into the bed, watching them sit.

“In the meantime, you can keep staying with us.” Gaz’s arm went around Rodolfo’s shoulders and then the scent of alpha was washing over him, causing him to melt involuntarily.

Rodolfo reached up and touched his head, trying to imagine how he’d gotten there.

He looked up when he heard Gaz say the food was done and took a deep breath, trying to push his fear and worry down so he wouldn’t have another panic attack, just standing and going to the kitchen, doing his best to return the smile Gaz gave him. He could see the worry in both of their eyes but he couldn’t find it in himself to verbally reassure them.

Their table was small, round, and Rodolfo noted that it likely wouldn’t fit more than three people. He really doubted it would fit four… His table at his house was much larger, meant for entertaining Wayne’s business associates. Rodolfo had hosted quite a few dinner parties for… for friends of Wayne.

He quickly pushed that thought out of his head. Wayne had apologized, it had been one time, it would never happen again. Never. And it hadn’t. Wayne hadn’t asked Rodolfo to “entertain” any other guests after that.

He took a deep breath and then started to eat, looking at his plate. A small, selfish, and shunned part of him was glad Wayne was gone. He didn’t want him to come back but… no. That was his husband. He loved him, he’d be lost without him…

Where would he go if Wayne was gone? His family wouldn’t take him back, he doubted any of his old friends would remember him. Hell, he didn’t even know how to contact Alejandro or Valeria, let alone ask them for help. He also doubted either of them would.

He needed Wayne to come back… Rodolfo couldn’t work to move out and make his own money… He would be entirely useless on his own, hell he’d never been on his own! Despite his tries not to, his panic bubbled up until he was having a hard time breathing, taking deep ragged breaths.

“What’s wrong?” Soap immediately asked, touching his arm.

Tears filled Rodolfo’s eyes, “he has to come home… I have nothing else if he’s gone… I have nowhere to go, I have no family, no friends… everyone in this pinche town adored my husband!” He knew they wouldn’t understand, but he fell into Spanish, anyway, lamenting how horribly he would be off if Wayne was gone. He also lamented how much he hated his husband for abandoning him and abusing him.

He covered his face, breaking into sobs which broke his ability to speak. He didn’t fight Soap away when he pulled him close and started to hug him, desperate for affection that didn’t feel forced. “Shh… It’s okay, Ms Rudy, we’re here now…”

He felt Gaz touch his back and then his hand was soothing over his spine. Finally, Gaz spoke up, “you can stay with us for as long as you need. Just… please don’t go back to him, even if he does show back up.”

“I- He’s my husband…” Rodolfo tried and moved to try to pull away, but Soap only held him more firm, not letting him move very far. So, Rodolfo gave in and moved so he could look at Gaz, instead. “I love him…”

Gaz seemed to go quiet and then Rodolfo watched him share a look with Soap before his shoulders were dropping. “Please, Ms Rudy. I promise that you deserve better than that bastard. He was horrible and you’re beautiful and lovely and… just so much better. He doesn’t deserve you…”

“We know he hurts you.” Soap murmured, hugging Rodolfo tighter.

Rodolfo still tensed, a little panicked. “No, no, he just gets angry-”

“Ms Rudy, please!” Gaz pleaded and then put his hands together, making those soft puppy eyes that Rodolfo had a hard time saying no to. “We’ll do anything, just please stay with us and not him…”

Rodolfo’s resolve was already breaking. They treated him so much better. They were kinder, they were softer, they seemed to care about him, and he wanted that more than anything. “I… I…”

“Let us at least prove that we’re better.” Soap requested. “In every way…” Rodolfo tensed and then shivered when he felt his mouth on Rodolfo’s neck, right under his jaw. “Please…” His voice was soft, pleading, and Rodolfo’s resolve completely crumbled.

He didn’t stop them when he was lifted and then they were heading to a bedroom, theirs if the massive bed was any indication. They both had their own spaces, the house was a five bedroom, but they did apparently share the largest bedroom and bed.

Gaz received him and he was settled in his lap, Gaz’s arms firmly around him. He flushed dark red when Soap kneeled at the foot of the bed and Gaz’s hands moved, pulling his dress up and then off. He tensed and grasped at Gaz’s forearms when his panties were then removed.

He’d been naked before, many times before, but… he felt so vulnerable. He had bruises that were still healing, scars from surgeries… He knew he wasn’t quite young and pretty anymore. However, the look of awe in Soap’s eyes only deepened the feeling but in a way he’d never experienced.

“Has he ever focused on your pleasure before? Has he ever driven you mad with ecstasy?” Gaz’s voice was hardly more than a purr in his ear, sending vibrations down the skin of his neck. It, in turn, sent shivers down his spine.

He shook his head, unsure if he could speak to reply. His legs were moved to be on either side of Gaz’s, which then lifted up and successfully kept Rodolfo’s open. Rodolfo did test the waters a little and found it very hard to close them again.

Heavy rain washed over him, heavy and pressing down on him. It covered his skin, washing him in the cool sensation, and then the smell of vanilla combined with it, making him drunk on the sensation. He was dizzy, he was desperate for more.

He only came to when he felt a hot wet sensation trailing up his inner thigh and his breath caught as he met Soap’s eyes, watching him mouth his way up and then back down the skin. He felt himself grow very slick, embarrassed from how much he was enjoying this.

“You smell so sweet, Ms Rudy…” Soap groaned and then his fingers were pushing into Rodolfo, not entirely unwarned, but Rodolfo still found himself tensing and gasping all the same. Soap pulled his fingers away and Rodolfo watched as he then put them in his mouth, his eyes closing. “Fuck…” Soap groaned and Rodolfo quickly looked away, shy.

“Fuck, Soap,” Gaz groaned behind him. “Don’t gloat, mate.”

Soap chuckled and then his fingers were pushing back inside, gentle but this time without much warning. It shot heat through Rodolfo’s body and he reached up behind himself, grasping at Gaz’s shoulder. “Don’t be jealous.” His voice had that slight challenging tone it always had when he had plans to rile

“Boys.” Rodolfo warned carefully, not wanting to be in the middle of their mischief. Not… not in this state.

Soap turned dark red and then he softened. Gaz gently kissed over his neck. “We’re sorry, Ms Rudy…” He murmured and then bit, softly, and Rodolfo melted and moaned. Their very tiny argument had caused more of his nervousness to drain and he sank more and more into the comfortability of being between them.

Soap seemed to remember what he was doing and then his fingers were working in and out of him for a few moments, as Rodolfo panted and moaned, his head falling back on Gaz’s shoulder where his lips were caught in a soft kiss, right as Soap’s mouth replaced his fingers.

Soap’s hands reached up behind both Rodolfo and Gaz’s legs, grasping onto Rodolfo’s thighs, his fingertips digging in slightly. Rodolfo moaned as his tongue worked, digging his nails into Gaz’s shoulder where he grasped him. “Johnny…” He moaned and then gasped at the rather loud growl that earned him before Soap was working double time, making Rodolfo’s eyes roll in the back of his head.

Gaz’s hand moved and started to stroke Rodolfo’s cock, intensifying the already deeply intense pleasure until Rodolfo was whimpering and gasping with any sort of movement, turning his head to nuzzle up under Gaz’s jaw and moan there.

He was worked to an orgasm, which had him crying whichever name first hit his mind, landing on ‘Kyle’ and his body trembled as the waves crashed over him. They didn’t stop, though, instead Soap moved up and his thighs were released before he was carefully pulled down the bed, still half in Gaz’s lap.

Soap undressed himself with almost desperate speed and Rodolfo took in the alpha’s body. He was… gorgeous. More than fit, his muscles flexed as he pulled his shirt off, and his chest was coated in tattoos, which sort of blended together in Rodolfo’s post orgasm haze.

Soap moved and then he was covering Rodolfo’s body with his own, capturing his mouth in an almost desperate kiss while he pushed into Rodolfo. Rodolfo gasped as his body was filled to the brim with Soap’s cock and it filled his brain as well, leaving him with nothing but thoughts of pleasure and desperation. He’d never felt such satisfaction from this part of sex before and he hadn’t even finished from it, hell it’d barely even started.

Gaz’s hand stroked through his hair before he completely pulled away and then Soap was moving, pulling all the way out before quickly shoving back in. Rodolfo could feel every inch as it moved in and out of him. “Fuck, I’ve fantasized about you right in this position, Ms Rudy…” Soap moaned in his ear and Rodolfo’s skin coated in goosebumps from his words. “Every night since we met you…”

“You belong here.” Gaz’s voice was somewhere behind him, still, and Rodolfo could hear it was strained slightly. “In our bed… Between us… With us… Our perfect little omega…” His hand returned to stroking over Rodolfo’s hair, soothing as Soap blew his mind with pleasure, his cock fucking deeper and deeper inside him, hitting against his back wall.

Soap lifted up, after a moment, and Rodolfo’s legs were lifted, allowing an even deeper angle that had Soap slamming against that back wall. The pleasure was overwhelming and definitely wasn’t something he’d ever experienced before. Wayne was his first and his only and he was realizing he’d missed out on so much.

“Fuck, you’re bloody gorgeous.” Gaz’s voice returned and Rodolfo whimpered, his skin unable to go any darker red. Soap turned his head where Rodolfo’s leg had been thrown over his shoulder, kissing it carefully.

Too soon, Rodolfo’s stomach was clenching again and he grasped at the sheets tightly, the sensation more intense than it had been last time. He did worry he might pass out and he whimpered, reaching to tap on Soap’s stomach. “Shh… It’s okay, we’ve got you…” Soap murmured as he kept going and Rodolfo’s eyes rolled back in his head at a particularly sharp thrust, hardly able to even moan as the sound cut off.

Moments later, Soap was pushing as deep as he could inside Rodolfo and Rodolfo could feel his knot swell, the sensation pushing his body over the edge. He cried out Soap’s name and Soap leaned down, burying his face in Rodolfo’s chest and cursing softly.

Finally, when they started to come down, he was lifted by Soap and moved up the bed where he was again half placed on Gaz, though Soap panted and put his face back in Rodolfo’s chest, his arms moving to tightly wrap around his middle. “Fuck, Ms Rudy…”

Rodolfo whimpered as the movement slightly jostled him, but Gaz carefully pet his hair and hummed. “See?” He chuckled. “We’re better than him…” Rodolfo didn’t disagree, keening into the touch. “Let us keep you, Ms Rudy… We’ll spoil you and love you and keep you happy with no worries in your head…”

It was so tempting… Too tempting to say no to, and so he nodded, giving in to them completely. “Keep me…” He asked, almost pleading. He didn’t want to go back to Wayne, at all.

Both alphas immediately relaxed and then he was being smothered with kisses as Soap moved up and Gaz moved him back to the bed. He laughed, softly, ignoring the stinging sensation of being jostled by Soap. “Boys- Boys!” He finally managed and they both stopped, ducking away sheepishly. “Give me a moment… My body is sore…” He smiled and leaned back.

Soap pouted before immediately laying his head back down on Rodolfo’s chest. “Gonna spoil you, Ms Rudy. Keep you nice and spoiled and happy…”

Gaz nodded in agreement. He moved to curl back up to Rodolfo, and then Rodolfo felt sleep drag at the corners of his mind so he yawned and snuggled in. “Sleep, Ms Rudy,” Gaz murmured and wrapped his arms around his chest, right above where Soap’s were. “We’ll be right here when you wake up…”

Rodolfo believed him, melting, and then letting sleep drag him under.

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#soaprudygaz #johnny soap mactavish #rodolfo parra #kyle gaz garrick #soap x rodolfo x gaz #soap x rodolfo #rodolfo x gaz #call of duty #soap cod #rodolfo cod #gaz cod #omega rodolfo parra #alpha john soap mactavish #alpha kyle gaz garrick #queue for dinner again hunny?

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magniloquent-raven · 3 years

Text

(pt1 here)

billy grew up afraid of finding his soulmate.

when he was eight his father caught him trying to wash nail polish off with soap and a hand towel.

he’d heard girls at school saying it was what you did when your soulmate was a boy. you were supposed to paint yourself up all pretty and find the person who matched. and it was easy enough to sneak into the vanity and steal a bottle of his mother’s nail polish. but once the paint dried he realized it would be impossible to hide from his father, and he panicked.

his mother showed him the bottle of nail polish remover after neil left. dabbed some on a cotton ball to rub at the thick layer of paint. she was silent, kneeling on the floor in front of him cradling his sprained wrist while he sat on the edge of the tub and cried.

they both had questions, but neither of them got answers.

it took billy months to work up the courage to try again.

he wasn’t sure why he was bothering, at first. he knew he couldn’t look for his soulmate the traditional way. and he was constantly terrified that his father would find the supplies he’d started hoarding. it seemed like more risk than reward, and yet. he couldn’t stop himself.

every time he was allowed to wander off in a store alone he’d slip something into his pocket. a tube of lip gloss. a compact full of shiny powders. he wasn’t even sure what some of it was, he just liked the colours. liked the pictures they hung alongside the displays. he wanted to look like that. beautiful.

and in his heart of hearts, he wanted the boy who was out there waiting for him to know he existed. whether they’d be able to find each other or not.

he’s more careful with this than he was with the nail polish. his father works saturday nights, and his mother always visits their neighbour while he’s at work. despite having the house to himself he locks his bedroom door.

the first thing he tries is the watermelon lip gloss. it’s sticky, and the wand doesn’t fit in his hand comfortably, but once he’s smeared it on he feels...good. he likes the way it catches the light. likes the way it smells. he looks at himself in the mirror and likes seeing something different.

the high doesn’t last long, it inevitably gives way to paranoia, anxiety that has him glancing at the locked door every thirty seconds, heart pounding, wondering if just maybe his father will get home from work early, and he jumps at every sound, hearing boots thudding on the porch and car doors slamming and anything that could be neil coming through the door.

cleaning himself up is hard. panic makes his hands shake, his eyes well up. he drops everything on the floor when he tries to tuck the bag away. and he has to spend twenty minutes with his back to his bedroom door getting his breathing under control when he’s finished.

but he does it again the following saturday. and the one after that.

for five months he does this. locks himself away with his stolen treasures and lets himself live a little. it gets easier as time goes on. and his mind wanders sometimes. to a future where he gets to share this with someone. the boy out there who’s supposed to love him one day.

it’s a small bubble of a dream. one he doesn’t spend too much time dwelling on. not when there’s neil’s voice in his head, telling him that no one could love a fucking freak, ‘cause fags don’t get real soulmates anyways.

he wants and he wishes, but the more he thinks about it the more he doubts. he’s never gotten a mark from his soulmate, and even if he did some day, what if his father’s right, and his “soulmate” doesn’t want him or makes him miserable or...worse.

so he does his makeup for himself.

until, like all good things in his life, his father ruins it.

he never found out what set neil off initially, something going wrong at work maybe, or the martial strife of the week getting to him. whatever it was that started it, neil eventually decided billy should bear the brunt of the fallout.

so he went through his things. said billy’d been acting cagey lately, and he was going to find out why.

and then found the makeup bag stuffed into an old sweater in his closet.

it was ugly. the things neil said that day would play on repeat in billy’s head for years afterwards. the scars his belt left on billy’s back were nothing in comparison.

the next saturday came and went. billy spent the evening curled up under a blanket not bothering to wipe away the tears dripping down his face.

by morning he’s resolved to forget the whole thing. to put it behind him. because it was stupid, and risky and childish and maybe his father was right. he’s almost convinced himself. and then he notices ink on his arm, as he reaches up to rub his eyes. messy scrawl, i bet you looked pretty crookedly written up his forearm.

he didn’t think he was able to cry any more, but he manages it.

for the first time his soulmate isn’t just a concept, or a what-if, he’s...a person. he’s a real person out there somewhere. someone who doesn’t even know billy and still wanted to reach out, to offer comfort. it’s more than he’s gotten from anyone else. even his mother. who he knows loves him, and she does her best to protect him, but when she found out about his makeup stash she just looked sad, and she’s said nothing to him about it.

but his soulmate…

can never, ever meet neil.

the thought hits him right in the chest.

whoever he is, he cares, he’s good. and neil breaks good things.

billy falls asleep that night tracing the empty space where his soulmate’s message used to be, wrapped up in worries and dreams, and terrified for someone he’s never met.

the doodles that come and go over the years are terrifying and exhilarating and billy manages to hide every single one from his father. they only ever show up during the day, and they don’t linger. something billy is both grateful for and resentful of.

sometimes he’ll watch other boys’ hands in class. check them for drawings. he thinks he’s being careful, but a girl in his chem class, becca, catches him. she says it’s only because she knew what to look for. they share a cigarette under the bleachers and she tells him about a girl who likes green eyeshadow and writes homework reminders on her wrists using stars instead of bullet points.

it takes billy six months and a couple shots of tequila to tell her about watermelon lip gloss and bet you’re pretty and they both cry when he starts to wonder if his soulmate will be disappointed that he isn’t a girl.

on a rainy april afternoon she asks him to go to a gay bar with her. he tells his father he’s going on a date. she tells her’s that she had to reschedule a tutoring session and it’ll run pretty late.

they wait til it’s dark and get ready in a dingy gas station bathroom. when she’s smearing on her eyeliner she catches sight of his face in the cloudy mirror. he wasn’t going to ask her for anything. he wouldn’t have brought it up. the twinge in his heart and a hollow feeling of longing aren’t anything new, he can deal.

he feels and empty kind of rage every time old, well-meaning relatives give max girly lip gloss kits and eyeshadow pallets and shit normal preteen girls who care about finding their soulmates actually appreciate. she always rolls her eyes and throws them away. susan will fish them out of the trash sometimes, and leave them under the bathroom sink, like if max just sees them there she’ll suddenly give a shit and start using them. like them being there does anything but taunt billy with what he can’t have.

neil watches him like a fucking hawk every time that shit comes into the house. and max doesn’t fucking care. doesn’t notice.

but becca offers.

and.

he’s not about to say no.

he should’ve said no.

it feels good at first, like it used to, it feels like freedom and he likes what he sees when he looks in the mirror, and he kisses a boy for the first time and it isn’t fireworks but it’s something, and he thinks maybe it’s going to be a good night, but then…

neil is waiting on the curb outside becca’s house. they were heading there first, because her parents wouldn’t notice, she said it would be fine, she has makeup remover he can use, he can clean up and head home and everything was supposed to be okay, except. it wasn’t.

it’s the last time he sees becca. neil tells her parents what was actually going on, and she isn’t allowed to visit him in the hospital.

and then six months of rehab, one rushed wedding and a big ugly sold sign later, neil carts them off to hawkins, indi-fucking-ana. as a “family.”

billy was certain this town would be nothing but a prison. it’d be somewhere he’d never find a place to be himself, neil would make sure of that. there wasn’t a single thing to like about this place and its bullshit small town sensibilities. for all the open space it might as well have been stone walls and steel bars.

except.

except...here was a boy with soft eyes and nimble fingers, who gets a little wrinkle between his brows when he concentrates, and is always moving, fidgeting, fiddling with zippers and touching his elbows and looking at him makes billy itch. to touch, to soothe, to take, and…

things get complicated when aimless blue waves scrawl up billy’s arm. when steve follows him out into the parking lot. calls him pretty to his face. and suddenly billy’s eight years old and realizing this shit is real. terrified of what that could mean. spinning fragile dreams like spider’s silk, hard to shake but easy to destroy.

even entertaining the idea of putting on makeup while he’s still in hawkins is stupid and dangerous, but goddamn if he hasn’t risked more for less.

he’s sure he’ll regret it. like he’s regretted every other desperate bid for freedom. but when faced with steve harrington’s smile, he can’t find it in himself to say no.

(edit: pt3 here)

#harringrove ficlet #harringrove #billy hargrove #stranger things #soulmate au #a raven's writing desk #another part is coming #cuuuz #this was getting way too long kdfljgk #i had to split it up cuz the other stuff i wanted to write is. definitely just gonna be a whole nother post to itself lol

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sweetberrysmooch · 3 years

Text

HC: And There Was Only One Bed (Affectionate) [pt. 1]

(Zzzzzzz.....)

(This is unfortunately gonna have to be in several parts, mainly so I can get something out to you guys while still being able to work on the rest ^^)

Basic sleeping hcs with ya boys, and sort of... smell hcs? Idk, I got into a mood and couldn’t stop writing about smells so here it goes lol.

Characters: Dream, Techno, Wilbur.

Warnings: There’s mentions of nightmares in Dream’s and a emotional breakdown in Wilbur’s, but that’s it.

Song Recommendation: Dream A Little Dream Of Me- The Mamas & Papas.

Up Next- Quackity, George, and Bad. [pt. 2]

Hope you have nice day today <3 Enjoy!

Dream:

Depending on where you’ve fallen asleep, Dream will kind of work with your position before he lets himself relax.

He prefers it when the two of you are in your bed, with him near the closest door and on his back and with you sleeping against his side, arm stretched over his middle. It’s a good way for him to be between any intruders that may come and to still have you close. But no matter where you are, he has to make sure that he can protect you before he lets his guard down.

Another position he likes is when you’re tucked against his chest under his chin, sitting on his lap or curled up together in bed. Being tall with a broad chest means he makes a pretty good pillow, so use those puppies when you can 👀👀

Smells like a forest, most times. Almost like wild honey, but it’s a very delicate smell. You don’t notice it until your first hug, when you were upset and crying and he pulled you to into his arms so you could hide your face. Now you smell it everywhere he is, in your house, on your bed, even your clothes smell like him. Neither of you say anything, but he slowly begins leaving his soap at your house. Just in case, y’know, if you ever run out.

Other times, when he seems a little more... off, he smells like the beginning to a storm, like ozone and petrichor. Those days he doesn’t speak that much, and keeps you at arms length. He sits quietly and watches your doors and windows with obvious intent, and is gone before morning. You don’t think he even moved from his spot throughout the night, much less slept there. You don’t see him for a few days afterwards.

Usually he remains as still as a log, but sometimes he has fidgeting fits where he twitches and grumbles to himself. Sometimes you’ll even catch him speaking full-on sentences, though they don’t make much sense. Mostly normal out of place stuff, but once you heard him talking about someone called DreamXD, and figured you’d ask him about his oc the next morning.

He has nightmares often too. It’s hard to tell when he’s asleep but he’ll wake up sweating and trembling and lean over you to check you’re still breathing. He won’t ever tell you what they’re about, but it isn’t hard to guess when he buries his nose into your hair and holds you tightly like you might leave him.

If the two of you aren’t sleeping in your house or completely alone, he won’t sleep until you are. Sleep loss doesn’t quite affect him like it does others until after a pretty long time of not doing it, to which he’ll become surlier and more angry until he eventually just clocks out. He wakes up extremely well rested 2 days later and the process repeats. Sleeping at your house is the closest he gets to proper sleeping, and it’s the only time he can ever feel truly relaxed when doing so.

When he can’t fall asleep, he goes straight to watching you. He gently plays with your hair and fiddles with your fingers, relishing in how unmarred and soft they are in comparison to his much rougher, bigger ones. It’s a sure fire way to get him to mellow out and relax, and he finds that sleep ends up coming much quicker.

(Dream wakes up in warmth one night, with rain knocking on window panes instead of what ever shelter he could scrape together and a fire crackling far off. He deduces immediately that he’s in someones house, and it doesn’t take long before he notices the owner, asleep in his lap.

Your legs are slung over the arm of the padded chair he’s sitting in, a book (one of his own, he acknowledges, an older version of a well known storybook that he has memorized already) loosely held onto in your hands, and your head rests on his shoulder.

He expects to feel worried soon, the fear of you getting close to him reappearing to ruin another close moment. But it never comes. All he can feel is the safety and comfort you always emanate, driving away his tension and soothing his mind. He closes his eyes, and falls back asleep.)

Techno:

Techno is very very touch starved ^^; While he may not be the only one on this list that is, Techno is definitely the most…. shy about it. He won’t ever directly ask to sleep next to you, and will actively try to avoid that. He’s afraid of making you uncomfortable but also of being close to you in general? It’s an odd mix of emotions, like eating mints and a hot pepper at the same time and then feeling hell fire burn inside of your body. Anytime the two of you have to sleep in the same room as each other, he will immediately offer you the better spot and go find a chair to sleep in, and he won’t accept a no.

The most you can do is make the choice to go sleep next to him. It’ll weird him out a little before becoming overwhelmingly endearing when he processes the fact that you would rather sleep next to him than somewhere more pleasant. When you’re asleep however, he’ll pick you up and move you to the place where he wanted you to be. He’ll drape his massive cape over your body and (after assuring himself six different times that you are in fact asleep) softly press a kiss to the crown of your head. If he runs his thumb over your cheek once, then thats his business.

Later on in your relationship though, after he relaxes and settles a bit, it’s pretty unusual if you don’t fall asleep next to him. He still won’t outright ask for it, but he kinda just hopes that when he starts his nightly routine before bed that you’ll just join him without needing to be asked. Having you there helps him sleep better, you act as both a silencer for the voices and someone to hold close when he’s at his most vulnerable.

When sleeping in bed together, he prefers to pull you close and curl around you in a half pulled fetus position. He’s usually a heavy sleeper, and actively clings on to you when asleep. It's an impressive feat if you can break free from his strong arms while they’re wrapped around your middle, and you leaving inevitably wakes him up. He’ll go searching for you then, barely awake, just to pull you back to bed to be his teddy bear again.

And speaking of the voices, while generally they’re loud and insistent, occupying his mind more than he does at times, their reaction to you baffles him so much. In place of the usual screaming is gentle mumbling, quiet whispers about how nice you look today or how pink and soft your cheeks look. It’s a welcome relief, and no matter how he hard he ignores the fact that he’s wrapped around your finger, he’s glad to know they care for you as much as he does.

He also smells pretty nice, it’s this natural musk he has mixed with a muted minty scent. The mint smell comes from this fancy soap Phil had gotten him a while back that he hadn’t given much thought about until you said something. Techno’s already a clean kind of guy, but after hearing your praises of his smell he almost begs Phil to get him more.

Snores, but in a quiet reserved way. Sometimes he makes soft cute noises, like little happy sounds when you snuggle into him more, or bashful grumbles when you kiss him before bed.

(Sunlight flickers through the blinds of Techno’s room, streaking across your face and waking you from sleep. Sighing quietly, you lift your head a little and stretch as best you can while being held in place at his side, before snuggling back into your spot, fully content to stay there for the rest of the morning.

As you enjoy the moment, you savor the gentle snores that rumble in his chest, his strong heart thumping beneath your ear, and the way his hand kneads your hip as he wakes.

‘It’s a good morning to sleep in.’ Your mind says quietly, and with how he rolls over to face you and kiss your forehead, it seems Techno thinks so too.)

Wilbur:

The way Wilbur sleeps really depends on what Wilbur it is.

To start off though, a few general things. He’s a neat sleeper, doesn’t snore, doesn’t move a whole lot, and smells pretty nice too. His smell also came from a fancy soap he got from Phil, but it smelled like sugar and lemons and it was a lot heavier than Techno’s. He would always take showers before bed because he knew you liked how it smelled, and often he would offered to share it with you (so that you would smell like him). Once he was exiled, he didn’t have the liberty of bathing as frequently as he used to, and he stopped using the fancy soap because he thought it felt tainted. He’d end up smelling like stale air and gunpowder, though he’d never tell you what the smell was from.

With sleep, if it’s pre-Pogtopia Wilbur, you get a fairly standard sleeping arrangement of him crawling up into between your legs to flop down on your stomach with a sigh, waiting impatiently for you to get comfortable and curl around him like you usually do. Your hand comes to cradle his head closer to your chest and he nuzzles into your collarbone before falling asleep near immediately. The two of you wake up tangled completely together and immensely comfortable. Wilbur used to sleep in on days like that, quietly savoring the peace that came with you and your generous hands that would slowly brush through his sleep-messed hair. Even after the election, when he starts descending into madness, the memories serve as a final comfort to him.

Post-Pogtopia Wilbur (Vilbur, if you will) is a stark contrast to his old self. He’s more bitter, more reserved, and even more paranoid. He doesn’t sleep with you anymore, at least never consistently, and the only times he does is when he’s so emotionally fraught that he passes out from the stress and lack of sleep midway through you trying to calm him down. You usually end up just kind of holding him close, praying that when he wakes up you can settle him before he works himself up again. You fall asleep like that, tired and restless.

(He rouses from sleep a few hours later, curled up in your arms and still exhausted from the breakdown. Your chest rises and falls slowly behind him, face smushed into his hair and completely relaxed.

For a moment, all is calm again. He can pretend that it’s just how it used to be before the election had happened, that the two of you are back at home, happy and stable.

His hands tremble when they reach for yours, and he grants himself the freedom to cry while you’re still sleeping, ignoring the fact that the next day will be just like the last, and that nothing has changed.)

See you next time :D

#mcyt x reader #c: dream #c: technoblade #c: wilbur #hc: and there was only one bed (affectionate)#dream x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader

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randomshyperson · 3 years

Text

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your loss - Part III "I will get better"

Serie Masterlist here || Part II| | Read on AO3

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction pining, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, domestic Wanda, hurtful behaviors.

Tag list: @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia / @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5

//-//

Chapter III - I will get better.

Your mother has an insinuating look on her face when you wake up after hearing noises of voices and walk to the kitchen, finding her sipping coffee on the table. With Wanda.

"H-hey." You greet clumsily, your sleepy brain had completely forgotten that the redhead was in your house.

"Good morning honey." Your mother said, her gaze following you all the way to the cupboards and as you served yourself. "I was just telling Wanda how I've been suggesting that you schedule a coffee so we could get to know each other, and what a coincidence it is that I come home and find her lost in my kitchen."

You yawn, shrugging your shoulders.

"Yes, fate is incredible." You mumble sarcastically, and your mother laughs lightly patting you on the arm as you sit down next to her at the table. "Did you sleep well, Wands?"

The redhead looks up at you and smiles as she nods. You stare back for a moment, but feeling your cheeks flush, you look away to your coffee.

"How was your date, Mom?" You ask next, not missing the opportunity to tease her.

"How was yours?"

You choke on your coffee, and your mother laughs. You don't risk looking at Wanda after that joke. But your mother is quick enough to change the subject.

"I need to talk to you about something, by the way." She comments stretching her arm to reach for the work case she left on the empty chair at the table. "Darcy came by the store yesterday afternoon, looking for you."

You frown in surprise, turning your head to look at your mother. She rummages through the files inside her bag, and then pulls out a red folder, handing it to you next.

"What's this?"

"Your contract."

You blink in surprise, and then open the folder. Running your hand over your face momentarily, you sigh.

"Mom..."

"Honey, give it a try." Your mother pleads touching your shoulder. "You are so talented honey. It would be so nice if you would write again."

You laugh humorlessly, running your hand through your hair. Taking a deep breath, you close the folder.

"I'll think about it."

Your words are far more than anything you have done regarding work in many months, so your mother lets out a contented exclamation and gives you a kiss on the cheek, making you laugh.

"Now, let's change the topic, okay?" you ask clumsily, making your mother laugh. She straightens up in her chair, and you look at Wanda quickly, blushing at the fond look in her eyes in your direction.

"Tell me, darling, what do you do?" Your mother asks Wanda. You go back to eating, holding back a giggle. You knew that now your mother would interrogate Wanda the same way Pietro did you, but she was far less subtle than the man was.

Several minutes later, Wanda managed to evade questions when she said she needed to go home, and you nudged your mother lightly in the ribs to get her to leave the other woman alone.

You stood up, grabbing the pots and pans from the table to take to the sink before walking Wanda to the front door while your mother pretended to read the newspaper while watching you two.

"Thank you for letting me stay the night." Wanda said at the door. You smiled, telling her it was okay. She hesitated next, and then moved closer, kissing your cheek good-bye. You nodded dismissively as she walked away, a silly smile on your face as you closed the door after she returned to the car parked in the driveway.

"I liked her." Your mother says as soon as you close the door. You give a short laugh, turning to go back to your room and take a shower. "Don't let that one get away."

"I'm not going to talk about this." You tell her with a mixture of embarrassment and impatience, looking back. Your mother laughs, glancing back at the paper.

//-//

Non-Reader Pov’s

Wanda sighed as she opened the door to the house. The boys were with Pietro, because they had insisted on spending the night after the party. And honestly, Wanda was so tired that she didn't even argue.

Erik was in the living room and didn't take his eyes off the newspaper when his daughter entered the room, throwing her shoes in the doorway and her purse on the couch.

"Should I ask where you spent the night?" he says with a slight hint that makes Wanda's face heat up, but she just continues toward her own room.

"Please, don't." She asks embarrassed, and Erik smiles, not speaking again.

After taking a shower, and getting dressed, Wanda stared at herself for a few moments in the mirror. You are fine. Everything is fine. She repeated these words a few times before leaving the bathroom.

When she returned to the living room, her father was still in the same position, but this time he lowered the newspaper to look at her.

"Honey, I ended up not meeting the friend you said you were bringing to Luna's party yesterday." He counters and Wanda presses her lips together as she goes to the kitchen, starting to sort the ingredients for lunch. "Pietro told me she left early."

"Yep." Wanda agrees a moment later. "It was my fault really. But it's okay now."

"I'd still like to meet her."

Wanda grumbles in agreement, washing some pots. Erik gets up from the armchair, walking over to the counter.

"There is something else I would like to talk to you about." He continues as he rests his hands on the marble. Wanda murmurs signaling that she is listening, but does not turn around. Her father sighs before speaking. "I need to get back home."

One of the pots slips from Wanda's hand, making a noise, but she catches it before it breaks. With a racing heart, she wipes the soap from her hands and the pot, and then dries her hands with a cloth, turning to look at her father as she rests her back against the sink.

"R-right." She agrees with tears in her eyes, but forces herself to smile. Erik looks at her with concern and guilt, but still stands firm as he says.

"Wanda, it's time." He says. "Charles misses me, I can't stay here forever."

"It's okay, papa." Wanda adds in a hoarse voice. She clears her throat lightly, trying not to despair at the thought of being home alone for the first time since Vis died. "I'll be fine."

Erik went around the countertop, moving closer to his daughter to place his hands on her shoulders.

"You can call me anytime you want." He says tenderly. "This is your home, Wan. You'll be able to make it. I'm sure."

Wanda nods, letting the tears flow. Her father hugs her next, and she responds, relaxing against his grip.

Erik breaks the embrace a moment later, smiling at his daughter before pulling away.

"I need to get things organized." He says. "When Pietro arrives with the boys, tell him I need a ride."

"You’re leaving today?" Wanda asks in surprise, and Erik sighs as he agrees. She swallows dryly, nodding frantically in assent.

Her father turns toward the second floor, and Wanda rests her hands on the countertop, taking a deep breath.

She tries not to be too anxious about the fact that starting tomorrow, when the kids go off to school, she will be all alone at home. Actually alone.

//-//

Reader’s Pov

Leaving your monthly appointment with Agatha, after spending an hour telling her about all the progress since you last saw her, you were quite hungry.

You hadn't spoken to Wanda since the day before, but when you thought about texting, you were surprised to realize that she had tried to call you while you were in therapy.

Dialing her number, you waited for her to answer.

"Hey, sorry, my cell phone was off." You say as soon as she says "Hello," slightly worried that it was important. "What did you want?"

" To see you." She says simply, and you ignore your quickened heartbeat. "I...I've been sitting in my car for ten minutes. I can't get into the house."

You frown at Wanda's tearful tone.

"What happened?"

"I just..." She starts half breathlessly. "My dad's not here. I dropped the kids off at school, and I don't...I don't want to be alone."

Your heart breaks for confession, and you shake your head.

"Wands, take a deep breath okay?." You ask her. "Send me your address."

"No, you don't have to..."

"Wanda." You interrupt with a short laugh. "I don't mind, really. Let me help you."

The woman on the other end of the line sighs heavily, and then thanks you. You smile when she hangs up and there is an address on the message app.

//-//

It takes about half an hour for you to arrive, and you walk slowly to the car parked outside, tapping the window lightly to attract Wanda's attention.

She is briefly startled, distracted by her cell phone, but smiles when she realizes it is you, then opens the door and steps out to hug you. You ignore the feeling of how good it is to have her against you as you respond.

"Everything okay?" You ask softly, and Wanda denies it with her head as soon as she lets go of you. You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to resist stroking her cheek for a moment before pushing your hand away.

"I can't get in." She confesses with water-filled eyes as she leans against the car. You sigh, standing next to her with your back to the metal. Her hand slips into yours, but neither of you say anything about it.

"Why not?"

Wanda is silent for a moment, and you imagine that she is not going to answer. But she does.

"Vis bought this house for me." She begins, and you resist the urge to wipe away the tear running down her cheek, imagining that your touch might intimidate her into shutting up. "I never...I never thought I would live in it without him."

"Is that why you asked your dad to move in with you?" you question.

"I think so." She murmurs. "I...I didn't want to be alone here. I mean...I have the boys. But they stay with Pietro so much, and there's school and karate, and music class. When Vis was alive, he worked from home, and I always had company." She explains. "Dad is retired so he’s always around, and he didn't mind staying. I don't think I've been alone here in eight months." Wanda sniffles softly, wiping away tears. "But his husband needed him to come back, and Charles is right to ask. Dad can't keep babysitting his grown daughter who can't put her life together."

"Don't talk like that." You interrupt by squeezing her hand lightly. Wanda shakes her head, running her hand through her hair and taking a deep breath. "Wanda?" You call out to her after a moment, and wait for her to look at you. "Do you want me to come in with you?"

She looks at your lips for a moment, but your head is elsewhere, so you just smile. Wanda nods in agreement.

After you help her get the groceries from the car, you wait behind her until she opens the door. Wanda takes a deep breath, and turns the handle.

Her house is very nice. Clean and organized, although the common characteristics of a house inhabited by children are visible. Wanda leaves a paper bag on the countertop and helps you with the one you are carrying, picking it up and placing it next to the other.

"So?" You ask with your hands in your pockets, looking intently at Wanda, who is trembling slightly as she puts away the items in the kitchen. "Wands?"

"I just..." She begins half impatiently. You don't get affected however, standing your ground. "I don't want you to leave."

You let out a short laugh, feeling your face heat up.

"But I need to go eventually." You say shrugging. "But while i'm here, why don't you show me around? I'll spend the afternoon with you until the boys arrive. But someday you'll need to do it alone."

"Like you moving back to your apartment?" She retorts bitterly and you blink in surprise, and Wanda is already assuming an apologetic expression, but you laugh and she looks at you with confusion.

"Ouch." You joke. " All right, smarty-pants. That was mean. But it's okay, I'm not mad." You assure her approaching as you take your hands out of your pockets to raise them to Wanda's shoulders. " Let's make a deal then?"

"What?"

"I'll keep you company at your place ." You say. "And you help me with my apartment?"

Wanda looks at you a moment, thoughtful. And then she smiles, nods, and circles her arms around you, burying her head in your neck. You don't mind that this hug lasts much longer than a hug between friends does.

//-//

You are laughing at a funny story from Wanda's college days when the front door opens and three small children come running in, throwing their shoes and backpacks on the floor. Pietro is surprised to see you too as he walks in and closes the door.

"Look who's here." He comments with a smile approaching to greet you. "How are you?"

"Good, Pietro." You reply gently. "And you?"

"Yeah, it’s all fine." He says looking at Wanda for a second. "Everything okay around here?"

Wanda bites her lip, looking away to the floor before speaking.

"She's keeping me company."

"Okay?"

"Because papa's not home." Wanda adds, and it takes a moment for Pietro to understand. He exchanges a look with you, but smiles, squeezing Wanda's shoulder for a moment before the boys join you all.

"Hello, who are you?" One of the boys asks, who hugs Wanda's right leg.

You bend down at his height, extending your hand.

"I'm your mommy's friend. You're Billy right?" You say and the boy looks quickly at his mother before shaking your hand. You shake very quickly and repeatedly without squeezing making him laugh as you tell him your name.

You turn your face to the other boy, hugging Wanda's other leg. "Good to see you again, Tommy. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, thank you." He replies politely, making you laugh.

"Do I know her, daddy?" You heard Luna shyly ask Pietro next as she was hiding behind her cousin Tommy. Pietro smiled, nodding.

"Yes, dear, she was at your party don't you remember?"

"She helped Tommy with his headache didn't she daddy?"

Wanda frowned in confusion, but you didn't notice, your gaze on the child as you smiled. Pietro agreed again, and then Luna approached you.

"Do you want to be my friend?" She asked and you thought your heart was going to melt with such cuteness.

"Of course I do!" You replied excitedly, imitating the hand gesture you made with Billy, drawing a laugh from the girl.

"Let's take her to see our room!" Tommy suggested next, and you let out an exclamation of excitement to play with them. Exchanging a quick glance with the other two adults in the room, you let Tommy and Billy hold your hand and lead you upstairs, Luna following behind.

//-//

Non Reader’s Pov

As soon as the children were completely up the stairs, Pietro let out a giggle that attracted his sister's attention.

"What?" Wanda asked.

"Oh, nothing." He replied with a little smile. And only when he and Wanda were in the kitchen, intent on preparing lunch, did he add. "I like her."

"Shut up." Mumbled Wanda with reddened cheeks, understanding exactly what Pietro meant.

The man laughed again, walking over to stand next to his sister and chop some vegetables while she stirred the pots.

"I'll just say one more thing about it, and I promise I'll wait until you feel comfortable telling me." He says and seeing his sister's lack of response, he continues. "It's really good to see you smiling again. I'm glad you're moving on."

"Pietro..."

"Hey." The man interrupts his sister who looks clearly uncomfortable. He drops the knife he picked up to cut carrots and approaches her, holding her hands.

"There's nothing wrong with that." He says tenderly.

"Stop saying those things." Wanda asks releasing her hands to run her fingers through her hair, sighing as she leaned against the sink, breathing deeply. "I don't... I have the boys to take care of, I don't even have time to think about those kinds of things right now."

Pietro sighs, shaking his head.

"You know what, Wanda?" He begins. "Ever since we were kids, all you've done is take care of someone. You took care of babushka, and mamochka. You took care of me all my life, and then you got married and Vis joined the list too. Then came the twins." He said, and Wanda frowned, not understanding where the conversation was going, but Pietro's firm tone encouraged her not to interrupt. "When Vis died, you needed to breathe, and I really didn't mind helping you take care of the boys. But what about you. Wanda? If you're looking out for everyone else, who's looking out for you?"

"I..."

But Wanda doesn't know what to say. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, and Pietro sighs slightly, smiling to reassure his sister.

"You've been through hell the last few months, Wands." He adds. "There's nothing wrong with wanting some heaven."

"You're getting so cheesy, P." Wanda mumbles with flushed cheeks, causing Pietro to laugh lightly. The woman wiped a few tears from her face, and sniffled before shaking her head. "Come on, enough of this talk. The children must be starving."

"Yes, ma'am."

They prepare lunch in silence for a few moments. It is only when Pietro hands Wanda the cut vegetables to throw into the pot, that she remembers to ask about what happened at the party with Y/N and Tommy.

"Oh, she ran into him in the office." Pietro counters. "I think he was feeling sick again. I found them in the kitchen, eating some hot dogs. You were lucky to find a girl who does very well with children, eh?"

Wanda smiles with reddened cheeks, nudging her brother lightly with her shoulders as she mumbles at him to shut up.

//-//

Reader Pov’s

You sat on one of the twins' beds as they filled your lap with toys.

Doing your best to follow all the lines and get on with the fun, you pretended to drink imaginary tea when Tommy handed you a cup, and made a funny voice when Billy asked you to pretend to be a policewoman. Then Luna asked you to imitate a dragon and you spread your arms, running around the room behind the three of them.

Several minutes later, they got into a game of pretend play and forgot all about you, so you looked around at the posters, not sure if you should leave them alone.

Looking around, your gaze caught the pictures on the boys' dresser, and you smiled as you ran your fingers across the pictures.

You bit the inside of your cheek when you picked up one of the frames, the picture of the whole family in it.

"Careful not to break it." You heard Billy say out loud to you. From the tone, it sounded like something Wanda probably said to him a few times.

"I promise I won't break it." You assure him with a smile, turning your gaze to the photograph.

It is probably the picture of the day when the kids came back from the hospital. Wanda is holding one of them, and a tall, blond man is holding the other baby. They have contented smiles on their faces as they wave to whoever was taking the picture.

"Were you friends with dad too?" Tommy asked suddenly. You were slightly surprised to realize that he had stood up and was standing next to you.

"No, Tommy." You respond by stooping down to his height. "I didn't know your father."

"Did you know he died?" He asked next, shifting his gaze to the floor. You held your breath before letting go.

"Yes."

"Mom said that dying means you don't come home anymore." Tommy said and you felt your heart tighten.

"Yeah, honey."

"I miss daddy." Tommy confesses next, and you feel your own eyes fill with water at the scene. But not wanting to make him nervous, you swallow your emotion and smile weakly to calm him down.

"Yeah, I know you do." You tell him, extending your hand toward him for him to hold if he wants. When he accepts, you squeeze it lightly. "But the people we love never really leave us. When you think of your daddy, you feel a little pain in your chest don't you?" You ask and Tommy nods in agreement. "That's the part of your father in you. The love you feel for him stays inside your chest now. Before, you could spread that love with hugs and kisses and smiles. But now you have to keep it to yourself." You say tenderly, and Tommy seems to absorb your words. Billy and Luna are also listening to the conversation and look at you as they sit on the floor in front of a dollhouse. "Do you understand what I say?"

Tommy nods. "Yes, I'm already five."

You chuckle lightly at the quick response.

"I don't want to keep love in my chest." He grumbles. "I want daddy back."

You swallow dryly, watching the thick tears stream down the boy's face. Your gaze quickly catches Billy's, and he is crying, too.

"I'm sorry, kids." You say reaching out to wipe away the tears of the boy in front of you. "That's how death works. It's not fair, and it hurts. But that's what happens. But you all aren't alone, okay? You can always hug your mommy, and your aunt and uncle, and me too if it hurts too much.”

Tommy sniffles and throws his arms around you. You hug him back, hoping he will calm down. It doesn't take long before Luna and Billy join you.

You want to make them feel better, so you open your arms as wide as you can to squeeze them all together, and wait a few minutes before you make a noise with your mouth like a monster. And it works very well, because the next moment they are laughing.

You let them go so that they run, and you laugh as you chase them around the house. When Wanda yells from downstairs for them to come to lunch, you change direction so that they dash downstairs.

"No running on the stairs!" You quickly warn. "The monster catches those who run on the stairs. You need to go slowly."

The children exchange quick glances and then obey. You pretend to walk in slow motion so that they come down without hurrying. They run again as soon as they get down, making you laugh.

Downstairs, Wanda guides everyone to the kitchen table. You exchange a quick glance with her, putting your hands in your pockets.

"You're going to have lunch with us right?" Wanda asks with a smile. You bite your lip, thoughtfully. "Please say yes." She adds the request making you laugh lightly.

"But then I need to leave." You say with a raised finger in jest, Wanda smiles, nodding in understanding, and taking your hand to pull you into the kitchen.

Neither of you mind the look Pietro casts at your linked hands as Wanda leads you to the table.

//-//

Your week goes by very slowly.

At group therapy on Wednesday, Stephen brings games, and it is as much fun as any other time. Before you leave for lunch with Wanda, Stephen asks to speak with you both.

"I have some questions about your checklist." He says as the gymnasium empties out and you guys help him put the chairs away. "I noticed that you crossed out all the questions about grief." He begins, and you and Wanda exchange a look. "But of course it's okay, it's not a script to be followed really, it's just ideas to break the ice. And you guys are making progress, so as long as it's working for you, it's working for us."

"Stephen you are diverting from the subject." You grumble with your hands in your pockets, and the man laughs.

"Sorry." He says as he finishes folding the metal chairs in the corner of the gym. "I imagine you also realize that you have completed the vast majority of your monthly goals. With the exception of one."

You sigh, looking away. Stephen tries to smile to reassure you.

"I understand that this is difficult for you." He speaks again. "And you should also know that it's not mandatory, okay, but I would like you to try."

You swallow dryly, and it takes a moment, but you nod in agreement.

"I will." You say. "But I need time. I'm not going to drive off the first time."

"Don't worry about deadlines." He interrupts. "Find a way that works for you. Besides, you won't be doing this alone."

Stephen gives you both an encouraging look, and you take a deep breath trying not to overthink his request. When he nods in farewell, Wanda holds your hand and stands in front of you.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" She asks and you smile, running your gaze over her face.

"Only if you stay with me."

She smiles. "I will."

You both walk outside next.

//-//

During the following week, you set small goals with Wanda regarding her house.

Wanda is always home alone in the morning, because the kids go to school. And since you don't do anything at home, you come to spend the morning with her.

On the first day, you leave her house five minutes before the time she usually pick up the kids. You smile, hug Wanda goodbye, and tell her she can take being alone for five minutes. She catches up with you at the front door, shaking as she hugs your back. You don't have the heart to leave her alone after that, and you go with her to pick up the boys at school.

On the second day, you try again. Five minutes of solitude. Wanda is nervous as you walk out the door, but she doesn't follow you. You smile proudly as you leave.

On the third day, you leave ten minutes early. And then fifteen. Then twenty. By the third week, Wanda can be alone for hours. On week four, you don't come.

Wanda calls you, laughing and crying, saying that everything is all right. That she can breathe, and that she is not panicking anymore. And you also cry and laugh while telling her that you are proud of her.

You have started writing again by then.

Because you needed to find something to keep you busy while you were at her house and Wanda worked from home with the administration of the flower shop, and she didn't mind you bringing some books and your laptop to try to write something.

For the first few days you just watched television, occasionally chatting with Wanda when she came to ask if everything was okay and if you were comfortable before going back to her study room. But then you run your fingers through the photographs of the house and get an idea about a small story. It's brief, and simple, but it's sweet and the first thing you've written in a long time. Wanda loves it when you show it to her, and you laugh shyly when she puts the paper on the refrigerator door.

You call Darcy the second week you are helping Wanda. Your colleague is happy to hear that you are working again, and even happier to hear that you will accept the contract. It's a quick thing, and the timing is good, just what you need to get used to again. Wanda sets up a second desk in her office and you smile in appreciation, saying that she would get tired of your presence like this, but she assures you that that would never happen. You enjoy having her company while you write.

Soon you tell her that you are ready to try driving again. And Wanda sighs, saying that she is also ready to go back to the flower shop.

You agree that after she drops the kids off at school, she will pick you up at home with her car, and you will go to the flower shop together. And you can try to drive her car on the way back.

"Everything okay?" You ask Wanda when you arrive in front of the establishment. The flower shop is very nice, even from the outside you can tell. It is a small brown building, with many vases and floral decorations outside, and a sign at the entrance. You can see Monica at the counter through the glass but she is distracted by a customer and doesn't notice you two at the door.

"Yeah, I just...I just need a moment." Wanda clarifies looking at you quickly. She takes a deep breath, and then enters.

"Wanda!" Monica greets you two cheerfully as soon as the customer leaves, and you two approach her around the counter. The woman quickly hugs Wanda, who laughs lightly. "I am so happy to see you here again. And look at that, I think even the flowers have cheered up."

You smile at the interaction, letting your gaze wander around afterwards.

Flowers are not exactly something you know well, but you think they are very beautiful. And you absolutely love photographs of flower arrangements, and flowers in nature.

"And how are you, Y/N?" Monica asks loudly, attracting your attention. You take your eyes off the white flower in front of you to smile at her.

"I'm good, Monica." You reply. "It's good to see you again. Is everything okay?"

"Oh, yeah." She says gently fiddling with some vases. Wanda disappears beyond the back doors, probably getting used to being around again. "It's been pretty quiet today, so I've had plenty of time to look around the web page."

You smile in understanding. You knew that Monica had an online store that she and Pietro ran, but you couldn't remember exactly what they sold, so you didn't comment on it. But you were glad to know that she was taking the time to check out the shop even though she was working at Wanda's flower store.

"Are you going to stick around today?" she asks next, and you put your hands in your pockets.

"I don't really know." You reply. "If Wanda stays then I'll stay."

Monica raises her eyebrows suggestively, impressed by your words. You feel your face heat up.

"B-because she's my ride." You clarify quickly, and Monica lets out a chuckle, turning to take a vase in her hands and move it around the place.

"Got it." She murmurs humorously.

Wanda joins you next, her purse was no longer with her, and you figured she was ready to work then.

"Mon, I'm going to stay in the back today, okay?" She says to Monica, who just nods encouragingly. Wanda looks at you hesitantly. "Is it okay if I leave you alone?"

You laugh lightly.

"Don't worry, Wands." You tell her. "I'm here for you. Do what you have to do."

"I'll keep you company, honey." Monica adds with amusement. Wanda laughs, glancing one last time at you before turning toward the office. You look at the other woman next. "Tell me, have you ever tended a garden before?"

//-//

You are washing the dirt from your hands when Wanda finishes. She was only inside the small office for at most three hours, much less than a normal workload, but you don't say anything and Monica doesn't care either.

After thanking Mon for teaching you how to grow a garden, you say goodbye to her with a kiss on the cheek, wishing her a good rest of her shift, and leave with Wanda from the flower shop. You were anxious because you are going to be in the driver's seat now.

Wanda left the car in the supermarket parking lot at the corner of the place, at this time the surroundings were relatively empty.

You two were standing facing the driver's door.

"Here we are." She said beside you. You took a deep breath.

"Here we are." You repeated her words.

Wanda slipped one of her arms around your waist, hugging you from the side, waiting for you to be ready to open the door. And it took a moment until you did.

As soon as you sat down in the driver's seat, Wanda turned around the car and got in, sitting next to you in the passenger seat.

Your heart was racing, and you were static. When you risked looking down, you had a flash of memories, and your breath hitched and your eyes filled with tears. Wanda noticed, and reached for your hand quickly. You sat there in silence for about forty minutes until you stopped crying.

"Sorry, I'm wasting your time." You muttered breathlessly, and Wanda shook her head, squeezing your hand and raising the other to make you look at her. She stroked your cheek tenderly as she spoke.

"Don't say that. I want to be here and help you." She whispers while wiping your tears with her thumb. "As you have done for me."

You sniffled, trying to smile a little. Wanda just looked at you as you closed your eyes, trying to normalize your breathing.

"Let's try again tomorrow, okay?" Wanda murmurs to you. You gasp slightly, agreeing.

Then you switched places, and Wanda drove you home. You mumbled a thank you, giving the woman a long kiss on the cheek before getting out of the car. You didn't notice how she squeezed the steering wheel and her face flushed when your lips touched her skin.

//-//

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wandaxreader #wandaxyou #wanda maximoff x you #sorry for your loss #marvel imagines #wanda x yn #wanda maximoffxreader #wandamaximoffxyou #wandamaximoffxfemreader

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all-that-glitters-is-goldfish · 3 years

Note

How about the reader being in a bitchy mood towards Bucky and Steve and then crying over something and they both comfort her.

“Is there a fucking problem, Y/N?”

You wince at his harsh tone, not meaning for things to escalate this far. Tears were welling up in your eyes as you grab the shards of glass that covered the floor, knowing you can never piece back together Bucky’s favourite mug that you just threw against the wall in your rage.

You wanted to snap back at him and say that you did have a fucking problem, and it was him. Actually, both of them. Your two idiotic roommates who went on extremely dangerous missions that left you up all night worrying as you didn’t receive any calls, any texts any kind of update to know that the people you cared for most were alive.

That’s what sent you over the edge.

You were so overwhelmed with fear and concern that logically you reacted by breaking the cup that Bucky had left on the table for you to find 3 days earlier with a note explaining how he left to go save the world again, leaving you alone to anxiously chew your nails until they bled as you waited for the phone call that he had been hurt, or worse.

But that never happened because Bucky just came strolling in like all the times in the past, a smirk spread across his smug face.

And then you threw the cup, and you weren’t sure why you were so angry when you were so relieved to see that he was okay.

Only now, you were both fuming. Bucky’s face a deep red as he stared down at you on your knees, your palm bleeding as you tightly grip the sharp remains.

Steve was standing between the two of you, his hand raised protectively in the air, his confusion apparent as he prepared to catch any more dishes that you were ready to send flying.

“Let’s just… Take a minute.” Steve said, taking a deep breath and motioning for you to do the same.

You were surprised he hadn’t said anything about the foul language that escaped Bucky’s mouth.

“I don’t need to breathe.” You respond, as you stare at the trail of blood seeping down the side of your arm.

Steve’s on his knees beside you now, obviously not afraid of being struck by any more mugs as he grabs a rag off the kitchen counter and wraps it around your injured hand.

“Probably not the only place she’s bleeding from.”

Steve’s head whips around so fast you wonder how he didn’t get whiplash.

“Bucky-“ He warns.

“What!? Maybe that’s why she’s being such a bitch!”

Your eyes snap up, as you glare, trying to comeback with something snarky, but your tear-stained cheeks cause Bucky to retreat and you’re grateful when he realizes how hurt you are.

“I’m sorry-“ Bucky begins, as Steve’s hands clamps down on the cloth, applying pressure to your bleeding palm. His eyes are no longer on your injury but have also made their way up to your face as your sobs fill the silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Steve says, gently.

You shake your head fast, embarrassed for them to find out why you were such an emotional wreck. “I’m fine.” You offer, knowing that they wouldn’t believe it in the slightest.

“Yeah and so’s my mug.” Bucky mumbles, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

Steve rolls his eyes as he releases your hand. “You know you can talk to us about anything.”

You nod, as your lips quiver as another sob causes you to curl in on yourself.

“I just… I can’t lose you guys.” You say, through sniffles as you swallow back the mucous that rises like bile in your throat.

They’re staring at you, eyes wide, unsure of what you meant as they listen intently to your shaky words.

You heave a breath as you go on. “Your missions… You leave and you don’t even say goodbye. You don’t call, you don’t let me know you’re okay and I’m up, for days at a time wondering if something happened and I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Your heart is clenching in your chest as you stare between the two people you loved most.

You sit up slowly, giving up on placing together the broken pieces of coffee-stained glass as you make your way over to the large living room sofa, plopping down as you let out an exasperated sigh. You rub the bridge of your nose, attempting to alleviate the sudden headache that was no doubt triggered by your heavy sobs.

You jump slightly as you feel two pairs of thighs on either side of you, then two pairs of hands pulling you into an awkward embrace.

“I am so sorry, Y/N.” Bucky starts. “I had no idea you felt this way.”

“Neither did I.” Steve continues, as he pulls away. “We would never want to make you worry.”

“But I can’t help it. Your jobs- Your lives- it’s so dangerous. And I just sit here waiting helplessly for some news, and the news I picture is never good.”

The tears have slowed down, as the anger and tension has diminished.

“You should have told us you were hurting.” Bucky whispers, as he stares down at his hands in his lap, obviously feeling guilt for yelling at you earlier.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize.” Steve smiles.

Bucky’s flesh arm is around your shoulders, offering comfort in a way in which his words cannot. He was not as verbose as Steve, but his gentle touch was the only assurance that you needed to know things would be okay.

“I’m sorry for breaking your mug.”

Bucky shrugs next to you. “It can be replaced.”

“The wall can’t be.” Steve says, motioning to the dent and paint chips strewn across the floor.

“Oh shit.” You blush.

“Oh shit is right. You threw that hard. Are you sure you’re not a super soldier too?” Bucky laughs, nudging you in the ribs.

You return the laugh and your roommate’s faces light up to see your mood quickly changing.

“You know we love seeing that smile of yours.” Steve says, standing up and grabbing the broom from the hallway closet.

“I can clean-“ You try, before being interrupted by Bucky.

“You can clean your cut. In the bathroom, with soap and warm water. We’ll take care of the glass.”

“I love you guys. I’m sorry for being such a bitch.”

Steve raises his index finger sharply as he purses his lips,

“Language.”

#I didn't know how to end this so I ended on a joke lol #morgan answers #morgan writes #prompt #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #can be platonic or romantic #anon #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction

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bluefirewrites · 3 years

Text

An old Juke riff from the Triad chat. Includes Luke bugging Julie at school and mushy times. ************ Arms wrap around her and Julie freezes in her desk, but the scent of lemongrass soap helps her relaxes into the hold.

"Calculus test? Lame"

"Luke" she hisses, making sure she's not loud enough to disrupt her classmates... or flag the attention of her teacher.

The ghost lowers his head so he's directly speaking into her ear, "Just wanted to wish you luck..."

Chancing it, she shifts to face him, eyes flitting upwards to take in his face- always ever smiling, whether it'd be genuine or straight up roguish.

"Really? Is that all you wanted to do?"

She's never been more grateful she's in the far back corner of the room...

He does a quick scan of the surrounding desks.

“Maybe I came here to offer my services as your favorite ghost?"

She shakes her head, "No cheating."

Feeling his chin wedge in the crook of her neck, she knows he's pouting.

"Buuuut if you finish sooner then we can do some writing in class,"

She glances up at notices the teacher making his rounds. They need to wrap this up.

"Wait for me at home, okay?"

"Home," he repeats. She likes how he says it. She thinks he likes how it sounds too, "Home it is, boss. Catcha ya later."

With a last squeeze on her shoulder, the weight of him disappears.

Even with all the pleas for him to leave so she can proceed with class, Julie wishes he was still there...

She doesn’t have to wish for it though because as soon as class ended and Julie finished her test, Luke was chilling by her locker. “I thought I told you-” A couple people turn around, thinking she’s talking to them and she feigns clueless and looks around until they walked away. Flushed, her phone’s out and pressed to her ear as she approaches the ghost. “I thought I told you to go home, Luke,” “Yeah. I did,” Julie wedges the phone between her ear and shoulder, opening her locker and grabbing what she needs for next period, “What you’ve decided to make this spot in the hallway home?” Sparing only the briefest glances at Luke, she catches a moment of hesitation. A hint of vulnerability. And he says it. “Maybe I just like following home around?” BANG Julie slams her locker shut in shock upon hearing the words. And they were candid. So candid. Not as vague as ‘interesting little relationship’, nothing to misconstrue here. Oh my god. He really just said- She remains frozen, her phone having dropped from and hitting the ground, and she’s staring at Luke, not saying a word, and he immediately tries to backtrack his previous statement. “That was weird. Yup. That was too much. Forget- forget I said anything-” “Luke-” she tries to whisper. He thinks for a second and then he backtracks his backtracking, “You know what? I’m not taking it back. I- I that’s how I feel and-” “Uh, Luke-?” “We could so talk about this later, ‘cuz you’re still in school and I bet that’s weird to spring this on you now and- and...” He stops, noticing her eyes emoting a sense of urgency, “What- what is it?”

"I- I can't open my locker"

Luke's eyes widen, "What?" The ghost optically tracks her ponytail, and sees that while he’s been rambling she’s been trying to break free.

Apparently in her panic, she had accidentally shut her locker on her hair.

“Oh my god,” Julie grimaces, “Yup.”

She angles her head and shoots her peers an oh so casual smile at them, pretending to be leaning against the locker when, in actuality, she's actually stuck. If there’s a word for extreme mortification, this, this right here, is it.

It ate away so much of her hair that she could barely move her head to look at her lock to put the combination in so there she remains. Now she’s debating whether or not to expose her dumb mistake by waving over someone. It’s already too much having Luke here witnessing this. She tugs at her trapped strands and immediately winces and Luke’s by her side instantly.

"Ok ok ok. Don’t move," Luke jumps to her rescue, "Sit tight, I got this."

Then, Julie, trying not to visibly react to his arm phasing through her locker, patiently waits for Luke to fiddle with the locking mechanism, until she hears the click.

She's able to throw open her locker and release her ponytail. Luke's hands hover over her, "Are you okay?"

Massaging her scalp, she nods, "Yeah. Thank you. Sorry, I spazzed and it just-" You said I was home... and I freaked... "Don't worry about it," He tries to not make a big deal out of it. The bell rings and Julie realizes that the typical hallway traffic has thinned out. She’s going to be late for dance. “I need to go,” “Yup,” Luke pops the ‘p’, shifting between his feet awkwardly. “I’ll see you later?” “Sure,” Neither of them make the move to leave. Luke doesn’t poof away immediately. Julie should be going to class, but she stills. She’s waiting. Until there’s no one left in the hallway. Then, she pops onto her tip-toes and presses a quick kiss to Luke’s cheek, baffling him. “Wh- Wh-?” He couldn’t form words, reaching for the spot where lips have been. She laughs while a blush breaks out on her face, “I don’t want you to take it back either...” Luke starts laughing too, one of pure elation and Julie could see he’s already bouncing on his heels. She hears footsteps coming down the hallway, “We will talk about this later, Luke.” “R-Right.” “At home,” “Yup,” she nudges him, “And you’ll be waiting?” Luke’s eyes soften, “Always.” With that he poofs out ( he may have let out a loud ‘whoop’ as he did). And Julie stoops to collect her phone (whether or not it has a crack in it, she doesn’t care), shoulders her backpack, and books it to the locker room. It’s only her 4th period, but she already can’t wait for the day to be over. The sooner she gets back home, the better. Tagging: @blush-and-books, @lydias--stiles , @thedeathdeelers, @ruzek-halstead, @pink-flame, @ourstarscollided, @nottheleastbrave, @echocharm17618 @smolfangirl

#juke #jatp #julie and the phantoms #julie x luke #luke x julie #palina #juke-box #i was reminded by these two riffs i did and connected them and added a few more things to it #we need a little cuteness

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sushi0989 · 3 years

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Pick Me If You Want To (part 3)

Summary: Set in the early 1950s, you are an aspiring photographer that is currently working at a toy store until you make your big break. During a surge of Christmas shopping, you are first met by Wanda Maximoff, a mother of twin boys and married. She leaves her gloves, which gives you the opportunity to meet her again. She takes fond of you, and you of her, but her messy divorce with her husband, Vision, risks the custody of her twins. Does she continue your blossoming relationship or fight for her kids? Based on the movie Carol

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Warnings: smut and explicit content, don’t read if you’re under 18!

Word Count: 6k

A/N: After this chapter, I think it’s going to take me longer to get content written and published because I want to take my time with writing and making sure that it’s good before I post. Enjoy reading! <3

You and Wanda arrived at a rundown motel in Ohio to stay the night. You wished you had the ability to drive so that Wanda didn’t have to exert all of her energy, but alas you did not. Despite appearing a bit ragged on the outside, the interior of the motel was quaint and surprisingly polished. You dragged your ratchet luggage to the front desk while Wanda effortlessly tugged hers along since all four of her wheels were working properly unlike yours. She found your clumsiness adorable as she attempted to conceal her giggles while you struggled.

The old man at the front desk, however, was not amused by your failure at picking up your luggage as he found it frustrating since it was not that hard to maneuver. As the two of you reached him, he already filled out most of the form. You took notice of his posh demeanor even though this had to have been at most a 2-star motel. Who does he think he is? He wore a light blue dress shirt with a black tie, his shiny bald head was his most striking feature. His peppered gray goatee was thin and his thin-rimmed glasses were held together by tape in the middle.

“I have a two-bedroom suite on level 2 room number 3. Could I get your name and the number of nights you plan to stay?” he asked with little civility due to his irritants for your lack of professionalism. Wanda took notice of the man’s behavior and responded in the same manner.

“Wanda Maximoff and one night is enough. And why don’t you get some manners and help my friend with her bag instead of silently judging her?” Wanda huffed and raised an eyebrow. After he wrote down the information, the man cleared his throat and walked around the desk while muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch. He assumed that you lacked the knowledge of rolling your bag by the handle, but then he noticed that one of your wheels was broken and understood why you were struggling.

Wanda laughed at him, not making any attempt at hiding it this time. You couldn’t help but laugh with her and the two of you walked past him to get to your room. The man gave up and carried the luggage up to your room instead of dragging it along the carpet. The still night allowed your giggles to echo into the atmosphere, but it eventually stopped as you neared your room. Wanda unlocked it with a key the man, who was struggling with lifting the bag up the stairs, gave to her in the lobby.

There was nothing too alluring about the room, it was quite average. The two twin beds, both an interesting orange color with stripes, had a few feet of space in between them. There was a window next to the front door with curtains that matched the color of the bedsheets. The bathroom had the basics: a shower, toilet, sink, and soap. You were surprised there was toilet paper as well.

“I expected worse,” you admitted with a pleasantly surprised expression as you took in the room. You heard the man’s heavy panting get louder as he neared your room, practically stumbling when he placed your luggage inside.

“That’s what happens when you make assumptions without doing a bit of digging,” Wanda teased, the man rolled his eyes and muttered “Merry Christmas” as he left. She quickly shut the door while you flopped back into the bed nearest to the bathroom, claiming it as yours.

“If I’m feeling this tired then you must be exhausted. You should get some rest,” you told Wanda who opened up her bag and pulled out some pajamas. You watched as she dug through to look for something, her eyebrows furrowing in concentration and her teeth nipping at her bottom lip.

“I will, I want to take a shower first, but I can’t seem to find my towel,” Wanda continued rummaging through her bag, but you understood by her huffing and puffing that she must have forgotten to pack it. “Here, let me get mine out of my bag,” you insisted and rose from your bed. Wanda assured you she brought it even though you both knew she didn’t. “Oh, please it’s no big deal. I’ll take a shower in the morning and I’m sure it’ll dry by then,” you waved her off as you easily found your towel in your luggage.

You handed her your light purple towel and she hesitantly took it with a sigh, there was nothing she could really do; either accept your offering or try to find a rag in the cabinet that would most likely be moldy.

“Thank you very much,” she smiled with gratitude and you nodded back, her smile bringing a shiver up your spine and fluttering in your stomach. It was something about that dark red lipstick that made you go crazy. No. You can’t let her get to you or else this is going to be another Steve situation where you’ll end up breaking her heart. Besides that she is a soon-to-be divorced mother of two children, you definitely aren’t ready for that. But her lips.

Wanda blushed when she saw you staring her lips up and down, but then you got flustered when you realized that she caught you and quickly turned away. Neither of you mentioned it, so Wanda made her way into the bathroom but caught a glimpse of you smiling at your thoughts.

While Wanda showered, you could hear her humming some songs you had never heard. It was pure bliss to your ears as you laid on the bed staring at the ceiling. How were you falling for this woman so quickly? A woman. You would have never thought you would be head over heels for a woman in this day and age. Sure, you’ve had some crushes on girls, but you would brush them away since it was taboo. But with Wanda, there was something more alluring about her. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed to reciprocate those feelings back to you.

The way she comforted you when Steve left was something you were so grateful for, but that is what was sending you to your tipping point. You knew that this wasn’t just you craving her touch, but also her heart. Right now, however, you needed to make sure you were also there for her. She’s in the midst of a heated divorce with her husband and about to lose her husband, so you couldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability. If she wants to get closer, then she will have to make the first move.

“Go with the flow,” you muttered to yourself as you pulled at your fingers.

“What was that?” Wanda hummed as she stepped out of the bathroom, your towel wrapped around her body and steam infiltrating out of the bathroom. Her body was moist and glistening from the excess water, her hair sopping wet with water dripping from them. You were speechless. You immediately covered your eyes out of respect.

“God, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to stare,” you quickly apologized which earned a chuckle from Wanda. “Oh don’t worry you can look. I’m covered up, am I not?” she teased and bit her lip seeing you fluster at her response. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you continued to ramble. “Please, would you think I would come out like this if I was uncomfortable?” she questioned, but you didn’t answer.

“Well, the answer is no. I forgot to bring my clothes with me into the bathroom,” she stated as she walked over to her bed where her pajamas were neatly folded. You gradually lowered your hands from her face and glanced at her state. Damn, did she make your towel look so good on her.

She picked up her clothes and scuttled back into the bathroom and you sighed. Trying to not make the first move was going to be extremely difficult for you.

Your thoughts began to wash over one another as sleep loomed over you. You were completely passed out by the time Wanda was out of the bathroom. You were lying on your side in fetal position on top of your sheets. Wanda quietly walked towards you and gently pulled the folded blanket over you and made sure it covered your whole body. She watched as you nuzzled your head deeper into your pillow and let out a sigh when you cuddled the blanket for warmth.

Wanda ingrained this moment in her mind and quietly left the room in search of the motel’s telephone which she spotted near the stairs that led to the first floor. She dialed a phone number and stood patiently until she heard the line connect.

“Hello?” a groggy voice answered. “Vision, let me speak to the boys,” Wanda requested with a hushed voice. “They’re already in bed, Wanda. It’s nearly 11 pm,” he replied with annoyance. Wanda bit her lip, she just wanted to talk to her children and wish them a Merry Christmas since she didn’t get the chance to in the morning.

“Vision, please,” Wanda didn’t want to beg, but she missed her boys. She wanted to see their faces lit up as they unwrapped the train set she had ordered. The train set you recommended.

She heard Vision sigh as he stepped away from the phone. “Hello?” a high-pitched tired voice answered. “Merry Christmas, Tommy! Is Billy with you, too?” Wanda’s heart warmed hearing the voice of her child. She yearned to hug them and kiss the tops of their heads.

“Yeah, I’m right here, Mom,” Billy replied also with a tired voice. Wanda smiled to herself listening to them, she imagined them standing there half asleep rubbing their eyes.

“How was your Christmas? Did you enjoy the train set?” Wanda asked. She knew they would love it because they were into building things and using their imaginations, just as she and Pietro would also do as children.

“It was so cool! We played with it all day, thank you, mom!” The two of them responded at the same time, making Wanda chuckle. The cool wind outside began to pick up causing Wanda to shiver.

“Okay boys, go to bed. I’m sorry I woke you. Be nice to your dad and grandparents and I’ll see you both when you get back,” she said sternly trying not to let her voice break. The twins said their ‘I love you’s’ and hung up the phone.

Wanda sighed as she went back to your room and silently shut the door once again. She turned off the lamps that lit the room and got into her own bed facing you. She stared at you as she dozed off as well, your peaceful expression being the last thing on her mind as she fell into a deep slumber once her exhaustion hit her.

The morning sunlight seeped through the cheap curtains of the hotel room and shined directly into your face. As you became aware of your surroundings, you could hear the birds singing outside filling the atmosphere with their beautiful tunes. You opened your eyes facing away from the window so you wouldn’t blind yourself.

A faint rhythmic snoring caught your attention, so you turned around seeing Wanda sprawled out on her bed still sleeping soundly. One could easily disregard it, but the room was so quiet that you couldn’t help but take in this moment. You didn’t find it to be obnoxious, unlike Steve’s. His snores would start deep in his throat and wake you even when you’re blacked out. You eventually convinced him to get diagnosed with sleep apnea and he had to learn some breathing exercises to lessen them, but they still persisted and now you could proudly say you can sleep through a train passing by.

You figured you should get up and take a shower now before Wanda does so that you guys could hit the road as soon as you could. You stretched your back once you sat up on your bed and saw your towel draped on a chair sitting in the corner of the room. You were reminded of Wanda’s after shower figure: wrapped up in your towel, red hair dripping wet, body shining from the condensation of the steamy shower, and now you were going to use that same towel.

You picked out a casual outfit to wear so you could be comfortable on the drive and you quietly slipped into the shower as to not wake up Wanda. You let the shower run for a minute so the hot water would come through, and it relaxed your body as it hit your skin. Wanda left her shampoo and soap sitting on the side of the tub, so you figured it would be okay to use it for yourself. The smell of peaches was pleasant, you could only imagine how it would smell on Wanda. As you finished up, you rubbed lotion on yourself before putting on your clothes.

The cooler air of the room was a punch to the face, but you received another punch when you saw Wanda’s backside completely bare, only wearing her undergarments. Thankfully she didn’t notice you come out of the bathroom drooling at her appearance, so you stumbled back into the bathroom making sure you gave no indication you exited in the first place.

Wanda heard the click of the bathroom door and quickly turned around only to see no one there. She briskly put on her black slacks, a blue blazer over a white blouse, and tied a red ribbon around her neck, and knocked on the bathroom door to let you know that it’s okay to come out.

“Don’t worry I didn’t see anything,” you stammered as you walked out of the bathroom trying to be nonchalant about the situation. “Are you saying I look bad with no clothes?” Wanda faked being hurt with an exaggerated gasp, but you took it literally.

“What?! Of course not! I didn’t say that! You look grea- I mean, you look perfectly fine,” you replied defensively but bit down on your tongue to try not to embarrass yourself more. “I’m just teasing you, darling. Enough of that, we need to hit the road if we want to get to Chicago by tomorrow tonight,” she exclaimed, resuming packing up her clothes.

You decided to leave your towel out and laid it across the back seat of the car to let it dry. The old man from last night was replaced by a younger-looking man who seemed to be much nicer. He was happy to assist you in taking your broken luggage into the car without any hesitation. He insisted that the two of you try out the breakfast that the motel provided to their ‘esteemed guests’ in the dining hall.

“I felt so esteemed last night by Mr. Baldyhead,” you muttered under your breath as you and Wanda walked to the breakfast bar. Wanda snorted when attempting to suppress her laughter at your comment. There were more people than you had expected.

You gathered eggs, a couple of pancakes, and strawberries onto your plate and took a seat at an empty table towards the center of the room. Wanda was still eyeing the bar, so you waited to begin eating until she came. A man with sleek combed back hair in a suit gave a sly smile at you from the table seated at the table next to you. You reciprocated by giving a shy smile back and he proceeded to get up to introduce himself.

“The name is Loki Odinson, lovely to meet you two ladies,” he held out his hand in front of you and you brought up yours to shake it. “Nice to meet you as well, my name is y/n, '' you replied with a timid voice.

“What is a beautiful young woman like you sitting here all alone?” he inquired as he turned his head to see if anyone was with you. “I’m not alone, my friend is still gathering some food,” you pointed at Wanda who was now on her way. She had a confused look when she noticed the mysterious tall man, and he looked over at her and nodded in understanding.

“Hello?” Wanda said to the man with her eyebrow raised, “Do you need anything, sir?” He took a few steps back over to his table, “No, no, I just was making small talk with y/n over here. What brought the two of you here?” he asked, obviously wanting to continue the conversation. He must be alone and bored, so he’s just trying to keep himself busy, that’s what you told yourself at least.

“We are actually heading to Chicago, this is just a pit stop for us,” Wanda explained as she relaxed once she realized the man was harmless. She took notice that you had been waiting for her before beginning to eat, so she lightly kicked your foot to get your attention to tell you to eat.

“I’m headed there, too! I’m actually a traveling salesman so this is my daily life to go from one place to another,” he exclaimed with excitement. He continued to explain how he first acquired his job and what he’s doing now as you and Wanda listened intently to him, finding his outlandish stories entertaining.

“So when my dad kicked me out of the house, I went down a really dark path and got roped up in some illegal schemes. The big boss guy of this cartel wanted me to go undercover and infiltrate their rival to steal this gem that originally belonged to him, and since I was new, no one would suspect me of being a double agent. Anyways, it didn’t go over well because my brother, who works for the authorities, caught both cartels and, me being his brother, he let me go. That led me to discover my passion for sales marketing and exploring cities, so here I am now!” He concluded his very long story.

“You were part of a drug cartel?” you asked in disbelief. This guy definitely talked way too much to be a part of a cartel, somebody would surely shoot him in the face to get him to shut up. “I know it may seem crazy at first, but I assure you it’s no lie,” he laughed, but you and Wanda looked at each other with wide eyes.

After talking to the man for another twenty minutes, and him attempting to sell you some magazines, the two of you finally got up from the dining hall.

“I need to make a phone call to Monica, why don’t you go get settled in the car and I’ll meet you there,” Wanda touched your shoulder and you nodded, trying to ignore the tingling feeling of her hand on you.

“Hello Monica, how’s it going?” Wanda spoke into the phone.

“Vision came by my house looking for you. He was drunk and I told him off. I also might have told him you were going to Chicago with y/n,” she said hesitantly. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he won’t do anything, Wands,” Monica tried lightening the mood, but the pit in Wanda’s stomach said something otherwise. “He’s trying to take full custody of the boys, Mon. He’s gonna poke and prod through any little misgivings of mine he can find to make sure of it. And I don’t want him getting his hands anywhere near y/n. I’ll call you when we reach the next stop, thank you for everything Monica,” Wanda hung up the phone and took a few deep breaths to collect herself.

There was no way he could find anything that could sway the judge in his favor. She was their mother for the love of god. What kind of monster takes a mother away from her children?

Wanda entered the car and forced a smile at you which you didn’t think much of. You two finally left the small Ohio motel and were back on the road. This time you wanted to ask Wanda more about her life story since you spilled all of yours leading up to the first pit stop.

“Oh well, my parents were quite well off thanks to my grandparents. Their marriage was arranged so all of my life my twin brother, Pietro, and I had to endure their bickering on a daily basis. He was and still is, one of my best friends. We would run off into the woods to this little pond that was so clear that you could almost see the bottom where the crabs would crawl. We’d spend most of our time creating imaginary worlds and pretending we were in the old wild west or flappers in the 1920s or knights in the renaissance. Those are the memories that outshine the terribles of my childhood,” she smiled as she reminisced, you were leaning the back of your head against the window watching her while listening intently.

Her smile faltered, a sad one replacing it. “When my parents tragically died in a freak accident when we were 10, Pietro and I had to move in with my mother’s parents. Living with them was nice, but they couldn’t handle us so we were shipped off to separate boarding schools. Pietro went to an all-boys one while I attended an all-girls one. Being without him really… sucked. My first few months there were miserable until I met Monica. She became my bestest friend and we still are to this day,” she let out a slight chuckle and you smiled with her.

Wanda glanced at you for a moment as she contemplated her next statement. “She was also my first love,” you raised your eyebrows and bit the insides of your cheeks. Your assumptions from earlier were correct then, but it still hurt to hear it out loud.

“Interesting,” you replied and turned away to look out the window, making Wanda furrow her eyes at your sudden change in demeanor. You knew you had no right in being mad at her, they obviously weren’t together anymore. But you couldn’t hide your slight jealousy, and Wanda thought it was a bit endearing that you cared so much.

“Anyways, so the two of us were together for a few years until we realized it wasn’t meant to be, but we stayed very close friends. My grandparents arranged for me to marry Vision because it would be a good step for our family businesses since his family was a rival to mine, but we went on a few dates before we settled on the engagement. Being married to him was nice at first, and then we had the twins, and then things went downhill from there I suppose,” Wanda shrugged her shoulders and sighed.

You were now feeling guilty for your rude behavior, so you put your hand on her leg to show your sympathy. “Sorry for being rude right there,” you apologized and Wanda assured you that it was okay.

Wanda knew you might be wary of answering her next question, but she figured after spending over twelve hours with you on the road the two of you had grown quite close. You already had ripped out a fart which signified you were already pretty comfortable around her.

“How did you meet Steve?” she pressed her lips together when she felt you tense up against her even though your side was barely touching her.

“We met through a mutual friend and we hit it off pretty well. My friend set us up on a date after seeing us connect so well the first time we met, and then it just blossomed from there. He and I worked well for the first year we were together, the honeymoon phase is what people call it I hear. We were two people madly in love, but he just never matured as time went on. He always expected me to make breakfast or do his laundry out of my love for him,” you explained while pulling at your fingers. You felt fine speaking about him for once, you didn’t feel guilty anymore for breaking up. That was all thanks to Wanda and her assurances.

Wanda nodded in agreement, she knew by how you were that you loved being independent and striving to meet your dreams without anything or anyone weighing you down. Steve was dead weight to you achieving your aspiration of being a photographer. He didn’t even have the decency to get you a good camera.

“Well, I’m glad you broke things off with him because he obviously didn’t know how to treat you right. You are a lovable person, don’t think twice about that,” Wanda gestured for you to come closer to her, so you pressed your side up against hers and relaxed your posture.

Wanda placed her right hand on her lap trying to get you to place yours on top, and you took the hint and inched yours slowly but surely up to it. Wanda smiled when feeling your grip tighten around her hand. You felt safe with her, that you could trust her words. As the car ride went on, you fell asleep, your head resting on Wanda’s shoulder and she didn’t make an attempt to shrug it off. She enjoyed the feeling of you on her.

The next motel was much nicer than the last one, even the workers were much nicer than the bald guy. It was late in the afternoon when the two of you arrived, the both of you starving only having had breakfast in the morning. Once you both had settled, you suggested you go to a nicer restaurant for dinner which Wanda immediately agreed to, both deciding to wear fancy dresses to blend in. The two of you snuck into the fancy five-star hotel across the street and nonchalantly chatted to not draw attention.

The waitress asked for your room number and name, “Maximoff, room 623,” you answered without hesitation and Wanda gave you a knowing look. “Right this way, Mrs. Maximoff,” the waitress gestured and led the two of you to a table with two chairs.

You were in the mood to really satisfy your tastebuds, so you chose to order lobster. Wanda looked at you wide-eyed, but you gave her a cheeky smile with a wink, so she ordered filet mignon. As the two of you waited for the food, the conversation came so easily between the two of you. Effortless.

“You sang very nicely in the shower this morning,” Wanda commented while taking a sip of her red wine. You raised your eyebrows, “I didn’t know you were awake. I would’ve shut up if I had known I was too loud.”

Wanda waved you off, “Oh please, I enjoyed it. It was almost as good as the first time you sang to me.” You blushed, but the wine in your system gave you a newfound sense of confidence that urged you to continue the banter.

“If you liked it so much then why don’t I sing you to sleep tonight?” you suggested seductively with a smirk. Wanda was a bit thrown back that you countered back, but she wasn’t complaining. She liked this side of you.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” she replied with a low tone, biting her lip at the thought.

When the bill came, you told them to place it on the tab and the waitress nodded quickly. Wanda laughed so hard to the point she snorted which caused you to laugh at her. It was a nice moment, one you wish could last forever.

The two of you were buzzed, giggling all the way back to your motel room and it only continued once you were there. Wanda pulled out a bottle of champagne from her bag and popped it open, the cork leaving a small dent on the wall. This caused you to roll on the floor with laughter, you each took swigs straight out of the bottle which only added to your drunken state.

You were both sitting on the floor right next to each other leaning your backs against one of the beds. “Are you going to sing to me now?” Wanda inquired with her champagne bottle pointed at you. “Well if you insist, M'lady,” you replied as you cleared your throat.

The only lyrics you could remember at the moment were the song you had sung to her while playing the piano. This time as you sang, you stared into her enchanting emerald eyes, your gaze never wavering from them so she knew every word was directed at her.

“Everybody loves somebody sometime. And though my dreams were overdue, your love made it all worth waiting for someone like you,” as you finished the song, you noticed Wanda leaning forward, so you did as well. Her lips slightly puckered out and her eyes were closed, so as you neared her, you closed yours and anticipated for the moment your lips were in contact with hers.

Even though you were expecting it, the feeling was completely different than what you had expected. She was the light at the end of a very long and dark tunnel you had been lost in your entire life. You always thought Steve was meant to be it, but no, he wasn’t. You were completely wrong and now you had your answer.

Wanda’s lips were soft but also overwhelmingly persistent at trying to savor every little bit of you. Your hands were gripping her waist, slowly massaging it as her hands rubbed your neck. The alcohol made your actions clumsy and less methodical, it was more about rushing to get to what you had been craving for quite some time.

One of her hands caressed your bare legs and slowly made its way up to your dress. You shuddered, but you wanted more. You tugged her arms to get her up onto the bed, unzipping her dress from behind and allowing it to fall to the ground when you had her stand up.

Your eyes met with Wanda’s hungry eyes as she turned around, she launched at you crashing your lips together once again as if she was a breath of fresh air after drowning at sea for so long. She pulled down the straps of your dress, allowing it to fall as well, both of your chests now bare. The back of her legs felt the bed behind her, and so she allowed herself to lie back onto it.

You climbed on top of her, your legs straddling her torso, and you continued to kiss her lips passionately. You trailed kisses down her jaw to her neck before settling on a point of her neck that caused her to sigh deeply. She guided your hands to feel her chest, and you obeyed, allowing your hands to sensually massage them.

“Please touch me,” she pleaded, letting out another sigh. You trailed your mouth and latched onto her nipple and your tongue circled around them. You allowed your hands to glide on her stomach and down to the band of her underwear, tugging them down. You gave the same attention to her other nipple and Wanda couldn’t hold the moan she was trying so hard to suppress.

Your tongue made her feel like she was jelly, each kiss you gave held so much passion and love that she had been craving from the first time she had spoken to you. The glint in your eyes told her all of the potential you had hidden within you, and now you were expressing it to her.

You continued your kisses down her stomach, her back arching with each one from the sensitivity building up inside of her. You kneeled at the edge of the bed and pulled her towards you by her legs. You kissed her inner thighs up until you were met with her core which was radiating heat. You gave a languid lick on her sensitive center and she tried squeezing her legs together at the feelings, but you forced them apart by putting them over your shoulders.

“I’m not done with you yet,” you retorted with a smirk and Wanda grabbed the sheets into her hands to brace herself for what was going to come next. You latched your mouth onto her clit, giving slow circles with your tongue to tease her. Her moans were soft, but you knew she wanted more, so you then slipped one finger inside of her causing her to gasp.

You pumped your finger in and out slowly while continuing to lick her clit, and the feeling was becoming all too much for Wanda, but you persisted. You felt her grinding her hip to create more friction and her hands were pushing the back of your head into her more. You added in a second finger making Wanda whimper, but she hadn’t asked you to stop yet.

You felt her walls clenching against your fingers, so you went faster. She cursed obscenities which only motivated you more, you curled your fingers making Wanda let out one last moan originating from her gut. You slowed down and took your fingers out of her, licking up the juices she released making sure not to add to her sensitivity.

Her legs were shaking and you knew she was exhausted already from the car ride. You crawled up onto the bed next to her and she cuddled up to you, her head tucked into the crook of your neck. She leaned in and kissed you, tasting herself in your mouth. “All I asked was for you to sing to me, but you really outdid yourself with that,” she whispered against your lips.

“Maybe I just wanted to listen to you sing to me,” you chuckled as you pecked her lips and pulled the sheets over the two of you. Wanda furrowed her eyebrows, “Hey we’re not sleeping yet, I still haven’t gotten my turn with you.”

She seductively bit her lip as she threw the sheets off of you and straddled you. “I’m not gonna stop you,” you smirked and she leaned down and kissed your neck, not even attempting to stop the sigh that escaped your lips. You knew this was going to be one long night that you were going to never forget.

When the two of you woke up in each other’s arms, you dreaded getting up, you just wanted to lie in that position forever, but it was time to hit the road again. You freshened up in the bathroom while Wanda said she was going to go check out in the lobby.

“Mrs. Maximoff, right?” the woman behind the counter confirmed. Wanda nodded her head and the lady gave an envelope with her name written on it. “It came by this morning for you,” she explained and Wanda frowned as she tore it open.

Wanda’s heart dropped, letting out an audible gasp as she marched her way to the car where you were putting in the last of your things. You saw Wanda’s face and you furrowed your eyebrows at her. “Wanda? What’s wrong?” you questioned, but she was completely frantic at the moment.

“Where’s my suitcase? Where’s my fucking suitcase?” Wanda kept shouting as she dug through the trunk. She found it and pulled out a revolver and your heart literally stopped. “Wanda, you’re scaring me,” you said, but she continued to march over to the room that was right next to yours from the night before it and slammed it open. You trailed behind her.

That’s when you saw Loki standing in his sleepwear with a set up of cameras and audio recorders located right at the shared wall with your room. Wanda was furious and pointed the gun at him. “Where is the tape?” she demanded and Loki gulped the frog in his throat.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda #fanfic #marvel #avengers #wandavision

141 notes · View notes

otptings · 3 years

Text

Inspiration (rewrite)

-Idol; Xu Minghao

-Genre; Smut, slight Fluff

-Warnings; switch!reader, switch!Minghao, lot's of fighting for dominance, dry humping, spitting, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, marking, praise kink, daddy kink, humiliation,

-Synopsis; Minghao struggles to find inspiration while working in he studio one night, and decides that his amazing girlfriend could help him out with it.

-An ~ this is a rewrite for a one shot under the same name that I did a while go since I've decided to start writing for Seventeen along with my two other groups. If you enjoy this you can request something for anyone in Seventeen, or you can go donate to my Ko-Fi in my bio to help me save up some money since I an unable to work because of my mental disorder. Thank you and once again hope that you enjoy

Visits to the studio were never rare. Being so close to Seventeen you always came to visit. Sometimes you were asked to come like when Jihoon needed you to listen to his demo because you're unbiased or just sitting in while the boys recorded a song for extra support. The studio tended to be a comfort place for you and the boys, always going there to take a break or to relieve stress. It still was a studio and was used for work so it wasn't a surprise when you walked in and saw Minghao with his forehead to the table muttering in Mandarin, crumpled papers in and surrounding the small trash can. A nice beat was playing from the computer, but by the way that it cut off and restarted it was unfinished.

"Um hi," Minghao sat up at the sound of your voice. A red mark was visible on his forehead from the table, and his hair was mussed, plastered his forehead almost. Wordlessly he put his arms out, holding them out for you.

Taking that as your cue you closed the door behind you before walking over to him and straddling his lap, attempting to get comfortable in the small chair. As soon as you stopped moving his arms wrapped around your waist as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, "Is everything okay baby?"

You could feel him shake his head before nuzzling his head closer, until you could feel his warm breath.

"I'm forced to write a love song for the next album, and can't think of any lyrics. I've been at this for hours and have made no progress besides adding a little more to the beat."

You slid your hand up to the back of his head, running your fingers through his messy hair. "You'll think of something you always do, baby. I have faith in you." Minghao sighed before placing a seemingly sweet kiss on your neck, but by the way that he repositioned himself you realized his intentions were anything but.

"I know. I'm still happy you came. We haven't been able to spend a lot of time together and I miss you a lot. I'm sorry I've been so busy because of work." Your heart melted at the statement, even as he continued to pepper kisses along your neck, pulling your (read his) hoodie and placing them on your exposed collarbone.

"I missed you too, so much. And I understand I knew that there would be times when we couldn't talk because of work. I signed up for this when I chose an idol." He placed another kiss on your neck, accompanied by four more. You strained to remember if you had locked the door when he nipped at your neck, before certainly sucking a bruise. You bit your lip trying to hide a moan, knowing where this was going to lead.

With Minghao stress and horniness intermingle. This isn't the first time that you've been in this position. Hopefully you locked the door so that you wouldn't have to relive the actual first time you had sex in the studio. Forgetting to lock the door, and an unsuspecting Dino walked in on you both. The embarrassment lasted for weeks afterwards, neither of you being able to face Dino alone without feeling the burn from embarrassment. The jokes that the rest of the group had at all three of your expense was quite funny thinking back on it.

"Minghao." A whine left your lips at a particularly hard bite, followed by a moan when he sucked on it hard. You didn't even have to see him to know that there was a smirk on his face, pride evident over his effect on you.

"What baby? I just need to relieve some stress. That okay?" He spoke in-between his kisses, his hands sliding underneath your hoodie. Rubbing circles against your bare skin with his thumbs, leaning back as he laughed at your pout.

"Stop teasing me then. Actually do something." Minghao grabbed your thighs and stood up from the chair, causing a loud laugh from you.

"Don't you dare drop me."

"I would never." Jokingly pretending to drop you causing a squeal to leave your mouth before he gently placed you down on the couch. Minghao smiled sweetly as he hovered above you, cupping your cheek with his left hand before connecting your lips for the first time since you've arrived.

He needs chapstick. A thought that plagued your head to distract yourself from the way that you were getting so worked up from a simple kiss. The rough pad of his thumb gliding over your cheek. Minghao was a passionate person and it usually showed in the way he kissed you. Chapped lips against your smooth ones. Sweet and chaste kisses.

"I love you." Minghao whispered, before connecting your lips again. A smile spread on your face as you wrapped yourself around him, pulling him down to you so his body was pressing directly against yours. Despite the sweet moment you couldn't ignore that the fire in your stomach was growing, the kiss was only acting as the catalyst, fueling it even more.

The kisses became more desperate as he pressed his hardening cock against your thigh. A whimper left your mouth at your growing desire, desperate for him to touch you. Minghao bit at your bottom lip, an involuntary gasp causing you to open your mouth so he could stick his tongue in. Both of you tended to be dominant, so you weren't going to let him win it so easily.

Neither of you won actually, only pulling away to catch your breath. Minghao placed his forehead on yours as you both practically just shared the air.

"Please fuck me." Minghao smirked hearing your voice, so fucked out without being properly touched. Grinding himself down against your core a sigh leaving both of your mouths, feeling relief from the growing pressure. A whine left you at the feeling of him rubbing perfectly against your clit, the thin fabric of your sweatpants adding onto the sensation.

You tried to take control of the situation by switching your positions, straddling his lap and grinding down against his cock. Minghao grabbed your hips and forced you over his thigh, helping you pull your hips and back forth. A smirk ever present on his face, seeing him maintain control.

"You're so pretty baby. Trying to be dominant me but you're just here, whining for me to fuck you. For once you're not so big and bad are you?" His words combined with him moving your hips for you caused a moan to build in your throat, your clit rubbing beautifully against the fabric of your panties causing your eyes to start to roll back. You were so close to an orgasm when Minghao stopped, a loud whine leaving your mouths as you looked at him. His eyes lidded as he watched you throw your little tantrum, knowing you weren't gonna get control over the situation easily.

"You wanted to cum baby?" You nodded your head, a pout still evident on your lips.

"Strip for me baby. Then on your knees."

Minghao sat up leaning back on the couch. Hawk eyes staying on your figure as you got undressed, too needy to even think about giving him a show. You tossed your clothes haphazardly on the floor, before dropping to your knees in front of him. You placed your hands on your thighs, excitement coursing through you at what he would do to you. At this point you had given up trying to gain dominance, just enjoying the fact that Minghao would do whatever he wanted to you.

Minghao sat up slightly, grabbing your hair before pulling your head back. In this new pose the marks lining your neck were on display. He tapped on your lips with two fingers causing you to open your mouth and stick your tongue out. A proud look covered his face. Seeing his beautiful baby girl with her mouth wide open, tongue lolling out and eyes glassy as you anticipate what he's gonna do.

The feeling of pride only grew in his chest as he spit in your open mouth, a moan leaving you as you swallowed.

"So beautiful baby. All mine." His hand came up to your cheek, cupping it slightly before pulling it away and slapping you lightly. Not enough to hurt, just enough to cause you to jerk in his hold, a twinge of pain flowing through your body as he pulled your hair. "You know the safe word." You nodded as best you could,

"You know what to do baby. Make me proud."

Releasing your hair he leaned back against the couch, legs spread enough for you to get between them. You didn't bother fully removing his pants, only yanking them down enough for his cock to pop out. He sighed at the feeling of the air hitting his sensitive head, cock throbbing already.

Minghao was pretty naturally. Every part of him was pretty, including his cock. It was long and thick, perfect for hitting every spot. The head was pink, shiny from the pre cum steadily leaking from it. Grabbing the base you rubbed it against your lips smearing the precum while making sure that Minghao was watching. Sticking your tongue out you kitten licked the tip, the salty taste spreading over your tongue.

"No teasing. Be a good girl okay?" You ignored his words but decided on your own that his cock looked too delectable to not be in your mouth. Wrapping your lips around the head you sucked on it lightly, a low groan leaving his mouth. You took him further into your mouth, gagging as you pressed your nose against the base, taking in the smell of his soap and slight must as you took a deep breath.

"Fuck baby." His hand flew to your hair, grabbing it and guiding you up and down his cock. Swirling your tongue around the tip, you took him down your throat again, enjoying the groans that left his mouth, and feeling him tug at your hair when you swallowed around him, endless praises leaving his mouth.

"So good babygirl. You always know how to suck me so properly huh? You were made just for sucking my dick. My pretty girl." His praises being punctuated by his moans. You continued to suck on his cock as your free hand slid down your body. You collected your wetness on two fingers before sliding them in, your moan muffled by his cock as you fucked yourself on your fingers. His cock was heavy on your tongue, you felt it twitch knowing that he was ready to cum.

"My baby girl couldn't wait huh? You want daddy's cock so badly don't you. Want daddy to fuck your pussy how he's fucking your mouth?" Letting another muffled moan out, in turn causing Minghao to pull you off of his cock. Pulling you back onto his lap, he grabbed your jaw before smashing his lips on yours. His pre cum tasted divine when combined with your spit, and he moaned into your mouth from the filth of it.

"Please daddy," You whined into the kiss, "fuck me. I need you."

Minghao changed the position, laying you on your back. Quickly taking off his shorts he settled in between your thighs, lifting them so they were placed on his shoulders. Grabbing the base of his cock he rubbed the head up over hole, coating the tip with your arousal. A hiss leaving your mouth as he tapped it against your clit, sensitive from the teasing and foreplay.

"Stop teasing and just fuck me already." Without a warning Minghao sunk into your heat, a whine leaving his mouth at the feel of your warmth surrounding him. Placing his hands on your thighs he started to thrust in you, setting a fast pace. The music was still playing, now accompanied by the sound of skin slapping, and his balls as they hit your ass.

"F-eel good d-daddy. S' good." Your words slurred as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a hot kiss. The kiss was incredibly sloppy, too much teeth, too much spit but perfect for the moment. You just wanted to be connected to Minghao in every way.

"Your pussies so good baby," A whine ripped from his throat at the feeling of you clenching around him, dominance slowly seeping out of him at the feeling of your pussy sucking him in, "s' fucking good."

"Fuck stop Minghao." Minghao stopped instantly, pulling out in fear that he hurt you.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" You shook your head before pushing Minghao back, straddling his lip.

"Changing position." Grabbing his cock that was still soaked from your arousal, pushing it back into your hole. Placing your hands on his chest you started to bounce slowly, a moan leaving both of you as the tempo. Swirling your hips you laughed a little when Minghao grabbed your hips, a whine leaving his mouth.

"Fuck baby." He threw his head back exposing his throat. The temptation to bite his throat, leaving a pretty, purple bruise against his creamy skin. Leaning down you placed a kiss on his Adam's apple, softly biting over it causing his hips to jerk up.

"L-look at you. All weak under me," Sliding one of your hands up to his neck, squeezing it slightly. His hips jerked up into you again, rubbing over your g spot the tension in your stomach so close to snapping. Trying to hold it in, trying to enjoy seeing Minghao like this.

"Wonder what the boys would think. Your so weak under me, letting me use you. You probably tell them that you only top huh?" Minghao shook his head, face flushed as a blush spread down to his chest, " Wonder what'd they think if they caught us." His eyes fluttered close, grip on your waist tightening. Your thigh burning from the strenuous activity.

"Walking into the studio, seeing me riding you on the couch they all sit on. My hand wrapped around your throat. How would they feel if they knew it was the only way baby boy 8 can cum?" To punctuate your sentence you squeezed his neck harder, watching as his eyes shot open at the sensation, moans leaving his mouth.

Thank god the studios were sound proof.

"Please let me fuck you. Please baby girl I can be good for you." Minghao whined trying to resist the urge to move his hips.

The burning sensation had spread to your hips, and your pace was starting to stutter. Your orgasm in your reach but still too far, and you couldn't keep fucking him at this pace.

“Go ahead.” Minghao planted his feet before thrusting up into you, a punched out moan leaving your mouth. Him taking control over the tempo caused your orgasm to come closer. You knew you wouldn't last at this pace, and you still needed to help him cum. You kept your grip around his throat and dragged your nail down his chest, before flicking his nipples causing a gasp to leave his mouth. Twisting and playing with nipples, drinking in his sounds. His thrusts got sloppier so I knew that he wasn’t going to last long.

"I need to cum. Please let me cum."

“Hold it just a little longer.” Minghao let out a sob at the denial but never slowed his thrusts. Looking down at him I saw that the blush had spread all the way down his chest, his nipples rock hard from me playing with them. His eyes were glossy from unshed tears, strain evident as he tried to hold his orgasm. Hair plastered to his forehead from the sweat coating his body. Just this image of him so fucked out was enough to make your stomach tighten, and the fire roar impossibly hotter.

“Cum now baby.” Minghao released a long moan as his cock twitched before spilling inside of you. Feeling his warm cum coating your walls pushed you into your own orgasm. Minghao's thrust stuttered but you continued, milking him and riding out your own orgasm. When you both finished cumming you laid down on top of Minghao, him wrapping his arms around you as you tried to catch your breath.

"Fuck." Was the only thing Minghao said and you nodded your head, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he panted. "We need to clean up." Standing up you quickly grabbed your underwear, not trying to have any of his cum leak out and cause a bigger mess.

Grabbing a stray napkin from the table you helped Minghao clean himself off, wiping the cum before tossing him his underwear. Grabbing his hoodie you quickly tossed it on, before grabbing your phone and checking the time.

"It's 11:50, do you want to order food before we go home?" Minghao nodded his head, still focused on getting dressed. After ordering the food you both went back to cuddling on the couch, definitely needing it.

“I know what the song is gonna be about now.” You let out a laugh as you smacked Minghao's chest, a giggle leaving his own mouth. Shaking your head you cuddled up closer to him, enjoying the moment of peace before he would have to inevitably get back to his work.

“Glad to be of service.”

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utterlyinevitable · 3 years

Note

Small fic request where Odette cries and Ethan is the one to comfort her 🥺

Intonation

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Odette Hall) Rating: General Summary: In lieu of barging into Ethan’s office in that totally bizarre scene, later in the day when things get too much, Ode goes to cry in a closet. Of course the last person she’d ever want to see catches her in such a state. Trope: Angst; Supply Closet; 1.9

Word Count: 1,096

A/N: Here’s some rare Book 1 OxE! A lot of the time I forget they (Odette) did not like the another as people until mid-way through Banerji’s case, definitely after 1.11 is when they start to encroach on work friends territory. Sooo here’s some 1.9 angst.

__________________

The linen closet is dim; one of the two fluorescent bulbs out of juice. It’s a good thing too. Odette certainly doesn’t want anyone to know she’s here; crying in an unused closet of the newly renovated fifth floor wing not too far from where Dr. Banerji’s being hidden away.

Her head thrown back against the empty metal shelving, hot tears rolling down her cheeks like an unforgiving rockfall. Her arms folded so tightly around her chest. It feels like everything’s caving in. The crushing sense of failure crippling her and wringing her lungs until no sound comes out; just he hot tears of a minute of weakness.

She’ll allow this inconvenience ten minutes. A quick ten minutes to herself in the most secluded of places. Yes. Ten minutes to get it all out and then pretend like nothing’s happened.

Odette Hall lets go. Lets the picture perfect painted façade fall like a curtain on a play. Alone, in the dark, without any spotlight or watchful scrutinizing eyes, she lets the most private part of herself free, momentarily. Water runs down her cheeks as unforgiving as an overflowing river. There’s a prick at her sides, from her pristine fingernails digging into the fabric of her cotton scrubs. If she gripped any harder she’d tear a neat little hold.

Everything she’s feeling tightened together like the frayed segments of a rubberband ball on the verge of snapping. Her frustration for this PITA patient she can’t seem to shake; can’t seem to get the diagnosis nor assert herself and her abilities. Another person who just sees her as a young and pretty face. Most of all she’s crying for the newest diagnosis she’s had to give. Odette knew the job wasn’t going to be easy - worthwhile things never are - it’s just... She needs some time to stop feeling so much.

The wing is so new she doesn’t hear the door opening. Yet she hears him, unmistakably, in the quiet hum in ventilation of this wing.

“Rookie?”

Doesn’t matter that the condescending nickname is said with more concerned wrapped confusion than she’d ever think capable of such a pompous and stoic man. Him being here - now of all times - is a burn. A brandish on his already weak perception of her, she’s sure.

She turns her shoulder to him, wipes her eyes with the pads of her fingertips as to not muss her makeup any further. Dabbing so the red of her skin doesn’t give her away. Odette can feel the lingering heat; the drying trail of utter disappointment staining her features.

“I’m alright, Dr. Ramsey,” she says; confident and like she’s above it all. Like he’s just walked in on nothing out of the ordinary; like she’s just looking over a case file. Cool, calm and frighteningly casual in the shadows. Even if the reds overtaking the whites of her eyes and other telltale signs will give her away as soon as she turns around.

“Clearly.”

His scoff is muted by something she’s only ever seen a glimmer of before in the depths of his icy stare. Pity, maybe? Either way it forces her stomach down to the darkened depths of wherever this outburst spurred from. She doesn’t need his endless sky-lit eyes imploring her. Doesn’t need for him to find another reason to berate her today.

Out the corner of her eye she sees Dr. Ramsey shut the door; near enough so no one could peek in, ajar enough not to rouse suspicions of infidelity.

“What happened?” he asks.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine, really.” Odette turns to him and shoots the brightest, most composed grin. Hopes that in this poor lighting he cannot truly see through the cracks.

Odette should know better than to muster false flattery with a lie detector.

She’s shuffling in her heels trying to find a gap to slip through and out of this unpleasant predicament, whilst his arms are crossed. He won’t budge to let her past; statuesque and imperious in the doorway.

Resigned and huffy, she folds her arms, matching his stance as best she can. It’s a face-off in this 4-by-4 box. In such close quarters Dr. Ramsey’s cologne mingles with her perfume. Foreign and laudatory; sandalwood and soap, a hint of citrus too.

“If you must know, I had to deliver a difficult diagnosis.”

He still doesn’t move.

There’s a bite in her exasperated retort; “I’d like to get back to work now.” A tap of her toe hones her impatient point.

“What happened?” he says once more.

“I just told you-”

“The diagnosis, Hall.” His face softens once he catches the rigid way her spine strengthens at his uncompromising tone. “What was it?”

A gust of stale air passes her dry lips, her eyes cast down and refuse to meet his. The new wing’s linoleum tiling has blue and green speckles mixed with gray.

In addition to the hum of the central air, all Odette can hear is the beating of her heart prick up to her ears with the bubbling emotion once more. But her ten allotted minutes are over and now she has an audience.

After a deep sobering breath she all but whispers,

“Preeclampsia.”

Neither doctor tries to hide the pained expression that contorts their features and washes over them.

A moment of silence reigns; whether intentional or not, both look in opposite directions to mourn the memory.

Dr. Ramsey is the first one to speak; his voice gruff after clearing his throat.

“And?”

“Being monitored.” Odette’s eyes flick to his face. “She’s okay. For the time being. I’m planning to check on her after lunch.”

Dr. Ramsey gazes down at his watch and Odette wonders if he has her schedule memorized by now. He assigns her patients, tells her where and when in the day to visit Naveen, seemingly finds her at one of the lowest points in her medical career with no effort at all. Does he know she should be on her break - is on her own time.

He finally steps aside, further into the dark space;

“Grab some food, Dr. Hall.”

She musters a tight smile in gratitude as she slides past him and into the grateful bustle of day. She’s nearly fully illuminated by the bright white light when solemn - personable, even - words reach her ears.

“And, Rookie,”

She turns to him, green eyes trained on the shelving beyond his shoulder.

“If you need anything, please come find me.”

Odette nods, once and short, before walking away; determined not to show another emotion to half the reason for her grief.

_____________________

@openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

> ode and ethan masterlist <

> complete masterlist <

Perma:

@lucy-268 @thegreentwin @queencarb @danijimenezv @starrystarrytrouble @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @maurine07 @mercury84choices @schnitzelbutterfingers @the-pale-goddess @whimsicallywayward15 @mvalentine @mm2305 @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine @withbeautyandrage @forallthatitsworth @stateofgracious @missmiimiie @uneravine @iemcpbchoices @sophxwithers @quixoticdreamer16 @lsvdw-blog

@adiehardfan @headoverheelsforramsey @dickgraysonsscrumptiousbooty @reputaytion-xiii @jerzwriter @kachrisberry @aishwarya26 @rosebudde

Ethan:

@udishaman @binny1985 @honeyandsunfl0wers @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @blossomanarchy @stygianflood @openheartthot @senseofduties @tsrookie @kalogh @aworldoffandoms @takemyopenheart @ethanramseylover @a-crepusculo @randomperson111 @anntoldst0ries @aishaaaaaaah @estellaelysian @mysticaurathings @mayarambles

#ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart fanfic #open heart fanfiction #choices open heart

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scuttling · 2 years

Text

Honey

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 838 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Biting, Rough sex, Fluffier than you'd think Summary: A sweet and spicy blurb based on the prompt 'lip balm.'

“Honey,” Aaron murmurs as he sits on the sofa, both of you naked, with you perched in his lap. You brush your lips over his throat, humming at the scrape of stubble, and the corners of your mouth turn up in a smile he can’t see.

“Yes, dear?”

He breathes a laugh you can feel as it ghosts over your ear, and it causes goosebumps immediately, a pleasant chill that travels quickly to your toes and back. It makes your body sing, alive and so sensitive to every touch, every sound he makes.

“I meant your lip balm. You smell like honey.” Leaning up, you press your lips to his once, twice, then to the dip above his upper lip, his chin; he breaks into a soft smile, more handsome than he has any right to be, five o’clock shadow and all. “Mmm. But that feels amazing, honey.”

“Feels so good,” you agree, running your hands over his body, squeezing his chest, his stomach, his arms; he groans when your fingers press very hard, or very, very lightly. “Smells so good too. Especially right here.” He shivers when you press your nose to the hollow of his throat, where he smells like pure, warm, delectable man: Irish soap, cologne, whisky, linen. Heaven.

“Baby,” he groans, like he knows, just knows what you’re going to do next, and you suppose he does; it’s second nature for your teeth to sink into his skin now that you know how much he loves to be bitten, sucked, bruised during foreplay. You bite down on the thick cord of muscle in his neck, your fingers weaving into his hair, and when you release him you’re both panting, eager, desperate. “Oh, fuck.”

“Fuck.” Pulling his mouth to yours, you catch him in a searing kiss, something wet and needy, more intense than it’s been all evening. Aaron smooths his hands over the curves of your body, only ceasing his exploration to dig his fingertips into your hips when you swipe your tongue over his chin and dive back down to bite at the other side of his throat.

“How do you do this? Make me crazy,” he murmurs, his broad palm coming up to cradle the back of your head while you suck a bruise there. “I’m not like this, it’s just you.”

You want to bite harder when he says things like that, make your mark permanent, but you pull back to kiss his open mouth, claim him that way instead.

“Say it again,” you all but beg, your hand in his hair, his hand in yours, and you feel him mumble against your lips because neither of you will pull back for anything different. “Yeah, it’s just me. Aaron, fuck me. Please fuck me.”

You lean forward in his lap, breaking the kiss out of necessity, then glide a hand over his throat, putting pressure against the darkening bite you left on him. He slips on a condom procured from the side table drawer, presses up inside you, then thrusts up, filling your aching, wet pussy and making you gasp; your eye contact remains strong and unbroken as you move together, kissing and pulling him closer to you.

It starts out smooth, rhythmic, but as your hands roam again the desperation becomes clearer in his eyes. He needed to be inside you, and now that he is he needs to claim you right back, to fill you until you claw into his back and lose it with him buried deep inside—you know these things like you know your own desires, not because he’s ever said them aloud but because this is how the two of you end up every single time.

“Harder, harder, please,” you whimper, bouncing into his thrusts, clenching around his cock while his thick fingers find your waist and guide you up and down. Sweat collects at the nape of your neck while you ride him, on his forehead while he thrusts up with strong thighs to help you find the climax that’s been building since he took off his clothes.

“Yes, honey, just like that; god, yes,” he grits out through his teeth as you cum, tight like a vice, moaning and whining like there’s no end to the pleasure he brings. “Almost there, can you just–”

You lean in to bite his shoulder, hard, and keep pumping your hips until he has nothing left to give, his hands holding you up behind your back and you melt into his embrace. The both of you pant, not quite kissing but close, your arm thrown around his neck, until you catch your breath; then, it’s all you can do not to kiss him like you never plan to kiss another man in your life.

“Now you taste like honey and me.” It’s softly spoken against your cheek as he stands, carrying you to the bathroom to get cleaned up, and you thrill at the way his scent lingers in your nose: Irish soap, cologne, whisky, linen, honey. Heaven.

Taglist: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @dadbodhotch11 @itsmytimetoodream @unicornprancing @thinking-bucky @mugi-chwan95 @madamsnape921 @hxtchncr @ssahotchnerxx @hotchnerxo @ashhotchner @hotchs-bitch @jaspxr @vintagesubmariner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Text

fall apart when it hurts too much

i had like three ideas for this fic so here’s all of them smashed together! ft. carlos and tk actually not being physically perfectly fine after being trapped in a fire, breakdowns in the shower, and an actual apology for that scene.

It's the smallest thing that breaks him, in the end. Ever since the fire, Carlos has been trying to keep a lid on everything, trying not to shatter even though he's been on the verge for hours now. He makes it to the shower, desperate to scrub the stench of smoke from his body, and then he just—

He drops the soap.

ao3 | 2.9k | 2.12 spoilers

Carlos barely makes it five steps from their house before his knees are hitting the tarmac, falling to all fours as his body heaves and shakes with coughing. He can’t catch his breath, and panic lights up in his chest, fingernails scrabbling at the ground despite the pain. Hands are on him, too big and rough to be TK’s, but Carlos doesn’t have a chance to work out who they belong to before they’re shifting under his arms, dragging him backwards even as their house explodes, a blast of intense heat washing over them.

If he had any breath left in him, Carlos is certain it would have abandoned him in that moment. Everything he’s spent years building for himself, all gone in the blink of an eye. It’s too much, and he collapses back down the second whoever’s holding him lets go. His eyes are streaming, a combination of irritation from the smoke, the tightness in his lungs, and a terror that he suspects won’t leave him for a long, long time.

He gasps, forehead pressed to the concrete, and then hands are on him again, but these—these, he knows. Carlos sags gratefully into TK’s arms, allowing him to pull him close and resting his head on TK’s chest, right above his heart.

He still can’t really breathe, and judging by the ragged gasps from above him, TK isn’t faring much better. But his heart is beating.

They’re alive.

Carlos closes his eyes, drifting away from himself as the fire continues to burn and the wail of sirens cut through the night air. TK curls his body around him and Carlos clings to that security with both hands. It means they made it out; somehow, they made it out.

TK’s lips press against his cheek, then his mouth shifts to his ear, voice rough yet still soothing when he speaks. “Baby, we need to move,” he says. “We gotta — They gotta check us out.”

Carlos feels himself nodding, but it’s the only movement he can manage. His entire body is trembling and his mind is frozen, replaying the last five minutes over and over on repeat.

God, had it only been five minutes?

“Come on.” TK tugs at his arm and, after a few tries, Carlos manages to get his limbs to cooperate long enough to begin to rise. A dizziness comes over him without warning and he stumbles, nearly pulling them both back to the ground; it occurs to Carlos that TK can’t be any more steady than he is. They’d been in there for the same time, after all.

Judd catches Carlos before he falls, and he sees through blurred vision Owen doing the same for TK. They’re led - or, rather, carried - to the ambulance, the flashing lights cutting through Carlos’s already pounding skull, and carefully lowered down onto the step. Unthinkingly, Carlos grabs TK’s hand, unsure if the tremor in the touch is coming from him or TK.

Oxygen masks are secured over both their faces and shock blankets wrapped around their shoulders, the soft material comforting. A kind-looking paramedic kneels in front of them, asking them questions about symptoms as she wraps burns Carlos didn’t even realise he’d acquired. He barely manages a nod or a head shake at the appropriate moments, his brain struggling to catch up with it all.

He’s so tired. All he wants is to be asleep in their bed, in TK’s arms, and for this to be a horrible nightmare he’s yet to wake from.

But their bed is gone. Their home is gone, ashes, only the twisted remnants of metal supporting beams left behind.

He’s shaking again, his chest constricting and causing him to cough despite the oxygen mask. Tears fall hot and fast down his cheeks and he practically falls onto TK, hands fisting in the blanket.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobs when he’s caught his breath enough to speak, pulling the mask down. “I’m so sorry.”

TK shushes him, hands running soothingly up and down his back. “It’s okay. This wasn’t your fault. We’re going to be okay.”

“But we almost weren’t.” He pulls back to meet TK’s eyes, the first time since Owen and Billy came bursting in. “I—I thought we weren’t going to make it. I should have had a fire extinguisher upstairs, this should never have… I...”

He cuts himself off, talking becoming an impossibility. TK cradles him close, kissing his head gently and whispering reassurances into his hair. Carlos hangs onto every word, not really believing them, but wanting to desperately.

By the time the paramedic ushers them into the ambulance, Carlos’s tears have eased, but the gaping pit in his chest has only grown.

He wishes he could wake up now.

They’re at the hospital for a few hours, run through a myriad of tests before they’re both declared fit to leave. A smiling nurse gives them the news, telling them that they’ll be home before they know it.

Neither of them have the energy or the ability to correct her.

Carlos’s parents come to pick them up, his mom producing a bag of fresh clothes for both of them. Where she got them from, Carlos doesn’t know, and he doesn’t ask. He hasn’t said much at all since the fire despite TK’s many attempts to get him to talk, leaning into the doctor’s advice not to do anything that might irritate his throat. He’s not sure what he’s even supposed to say; their house is gone, and that’s… That’s that.

His mom loops her arm through his and walks him through the corridors and out of the hospital. Carlos only half-listens to her talk about fixing up his room for them and what she’s planning on cooking for dinner tonight; he still feels the stench of smoke and ash clinging to his skin, even though they were able to clean up a little at the hospital. He itches with the need to wash it all off, to scrub until his skin cracks and bleeds and the pain eclipses that which lingers in his bones.

TK seems to sense how he’s feeling, constantly providing support in one form or another the entire drive to his parents’ house. Carlos feels guilty for not checking on him, but he’s seconds from shattering. If he tries to focus on anything other than holding himself together, he knows he’ll break.

He realises that makes him a shitty boyfriend, but… But.

His childhood home soon comes into view, a part of Carlos relaxing at the sight. He’s beyond grateful that they came here instead of going to Owen’s; he needs every comfort he can get right now, his mother’s cooking and his abuela’s stitched blanket second only to TK on that list.

He turns to TK as the car comes to a stop, squeezing his hand gently. “This isn’t how I’d imagined bringing you home for the first time,” he jokes, trying for a smile, but it falls flat. TK gives him a token smile anyway, the same weariness Carlos is feeling heavy in his gaze.

“I’m looking forward to seeing what teenage Carlos was like.”

“You already know,” Carlos points out. “I’m pretty sure my mom spilled every story there is the other night when we were… Well, you know.”

TK nods. “Yeah,” he says, his voice a mere whisper. Carlos doesn’t get it, how even the slightest thought of their house can send him spiralling, but he guesses that it’s just another thing he’ll have to deal with now. As if there wasn’t already enough.

He doesn’t get a chance to think on it any longer, his parents calling for them to come inside, his mother practically shoving the two of them upstairs. Carlos leads TK to his old room by the hand, the decorations almost untouched since he moved out.

“You can just…” He waves around, gesturing vaguely to the bed. “Make yourself comfortable, I guess. I’m going to shower, you can go in after me if you want, or I won’t mind if you just want to sleep. Bathroom is the door at the end of the hall.”

TK chews on his lip, not letting go of Carlos’s hand just yet. “I can join you?” he offers, but Carlos shakes his head.

“It’s pretty small in there. Better not.”

TK doesn’t look like he believes him (and why would he? it is a lie, after all) but he nods and lets go. Carlos lingers for a second, then leaves, grabbing the bag of clothes his mom left on his way.

He manages to scrub himself fully once before it happens. There’s still a slight tremble to his hands as he reaches for the soap again, the feeling of being unclean sticking to him, and he just—

He drops the soap.

It shouldn’t be a big deal. Carlos stares at where it’s fallen, willing himself to just pick it up and carry on, because that would be the sensible thing to do, right? The normal thing?

But he can’t. Everything—the fire, the house, the goddamn soap—is suddenly all too much, and Carlos has to brace himself against the tiles as emotions he’s tried so hard to ignore pour out of him in a wave of grief and sorrow and despair. He presses his fist to his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut, cries wrenching from his mouth, so loud that he doesn’t hear the gentle knocking at the door.

“Carlos?”

Carlos gasps, straightening as TK’s voice cuts through the noise. “I’m okay, I’ll just be a second,” he calls, but obviously he’s not convincing enough as the door creaks open, TK’s face falling when he catches sight of him.

“Oh, Carlos.”

TK steps into the room, silently undressing and stepping into the shower with him. He bends and grabs the soap from where it fell and creates a lather on his hands, looking to Carlos for permission before going any further.

Carlos wordlessly nods, so TK begins rubbing the suds over his body, touch soft and feather-light. They don’t say a word, and it’s not… It’s not relaxing, exactly - Carlos doesn’t think he can relax tonight - but it’s… It’s something. It means he’s not alone, which is all Carlos could ask for in this moment.

A slight pressure on his shoulder tells him to turn around, so Carlos puts his back to TK, facing the spray of the showerhead. He doesn’t know why, but not having to look at him makes it easier, somehow, to say the words that have been spinning in his mind since this nightmare began.

“I’m so sorry, TK,” he whispers. “If we had just had an extinguisher, then—”

“Then, nothing,” TK interrupts, not pausing in his motions. “I used to be a firefighter, Carlos; I know from experience that when a fire burns like that, nothing can stop it. My dad, Billy, and Judd all had extinguishers, and they barely made a dent.”

“I still should have done more. You were so calm, and I was just panicking.”

“Firefighter. I’ve been in plenty of burning buildings before; you haven’t. And, trust me, I was scared too.” TK sighs, his hands stilling on Carlos’s shoulders for a brief second before resuming. “Listen to me,” he whispers fiercely, planting a kiss between his shoulder blades. “You have nothing to apologise for, you hear me? Nothing.”

When Carlos wakes the next morning, TK is sitting on the edge of the bed, back to him, his hands twisting together in his lap. The set of his shoulders is tense, and Carlos can imagine the look on his face right now. He pushes himself up onto an elbow and reaches out, intending on comforting TK the way he’s done so many times over the course of their relationship.

What he’s not expecting is for TK to flinch away like his touch burns. Carlos frowns, sitting up fully and crawling over the bed to sit next to him. “Babe?” he asks. “What’s wrong?”

TK shakes his head, subtly—though, not subtle enough—shifting away from him until there’s a clear gap between their bodies. It’s so far removed from last night when they could barely stand to let go of each other, and Carlos has no idea what’s causing it.

“TK?” he tries, keeping his hands to himself this time. “Please, TK, talk to me.”

It takes another agonising minute before TK finally, slowly, turns his gaze to Carlos. His eyes are wet and red-rimmed, and he can’t seem to look directly at him for longer than a few seconds. He clears his throat roughly, rubbing the material of his borrowed sweats between his fingers.

“Remember last night?” he says quietly. “When I said you had nothing to apologise for? I meant that—you don’t, but I do.” TK takes a trembling breath, then turns to him with a gasp. “Carlos, I—”

“Stop,” Carlos interrupts, shaking his head. He thought they’d moved past this; he doesn’t want to think about it anymore. “I already told you, it’s okay. You were in shock, you were angry… I get it, okay? You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Yes, I do.”

“TK—”

“Carlos, please.” A couple of tears slip down TK’s cheeks and he doesn’t bother to wipe them away, a desperate look in his eyes. Carlos hesitates, then sighs and nods, gesturing for him to continue. “Thank you. I… If I thought it meant anything, I would say that I’m sorry a thousand times over. I mean, I am, of course I am, but they’re just words, right? The same as saying I wish it had never happened in the first place, because the point is that it did happen and I can’t ever take it back. You had done nothing but support me, and I just—I hit you. There’s no excusing that. I don’t even know if there’s any forgiving that.”

Carlos frowns. “Of course there is.”

“Well, maybe there shouldn’t be.” TK looks down at his lap, shoulders curved inwards. “I wanted to use so badly that night,” he admits. “I was going out of my mind over my dad, and I’d convinced myself that I’d lost you. That I was going to lose you both. It was so tempting to go to the nearest bar or dealer and make it all go away for a while.

“Then I realised that I would only be hurting more people if I did, and I couldn’t do that. I’m not… This isn’t me trying to excuse what I did to you. You don’t deserve that, and I understand completely if you can’t trust me anymore, or even if you want me to leave. I’ll do it, whatever you want, just say the word. I can’t take it back, but I’ll do anything so that you feel safe.”

TK sniffs, his head bowed so low he’s almost folding in half. Carlos hesitates, then slowly reaches out, taking TK’s hands in his own. “TK, look at me?” he asks softly.

TK does, pain written all over his face, and it breaks Carlos’s heart again.

“I forgive you,” he says, squeezing as tight as he dares. “I forgive you. You might not think you deserve it, but I promise you that you do. I won’t pretend that what happened didn’t hurt me, but I understand why you did it.” He pauses, weighing his next words carefully before he speaks, not wanting to say the wrong thing. Not that he thinks TK will react like before again, but he refuses to make him feel any worse about the situation.

He makes sure he has TK’s eyes on him before speaking, keeping his voice as calm as possible. “But,” he starts, sighing heavily, “you are right. It’s not an excuse, and we are going to have to deal with this soon. Maybe not right now, but we need to have a conversation about these defence mechanisms of yours and how we can make sure you don’t feel the need to fall back on them again.”

TK nods. “I’m going to go to a meeting tomorrow, and I’ll talk to my therapist as soon as I can. I’ll… I’ll be better, Carlos, I swear.”

“I know you will.”

Carlos shifts closer so he can wrap an arm around TK. He stiffens at the touch, but slowly leans into it, carefully resting his head on Carlos’s shoulder.

“I don’t deserve this,” he mumbles.

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” Carlos counters.

TK snorts. “I think you’ve given me about thirty.”

“And you’ve deserved every single one.” He kisses the top of TK’s head and strokes his side. “I don’t think you could ever do anything bad enough to drive me away. That’s not who you are, TK. You’ve made mistakes, yes, but I love you and I will keep loving you even if you think I shouldn’t because I know my boyfriend and I know he’s a good man.”

TK sniffles, his arms coming up to wrap around him. He hesitates a second, a palm hovering over Carlos’s chest, trembling in mid-air as the seconds drag out. Carlos holds his breath, waiting, then smiles as TK slowly brings it down, letting it rest just over his heart.

The touch is light, barely there, but it’s something. It’s progress.

They’re both more than a little broken, more than a little hurt, but they can heal. They will heal, as long as they’re together.

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