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nereidprinc3ss · 8 months ago

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promiscuous

in which spencer reid doesn't like that flirty!reader is going on a date. he makes that known. (bandages universe)

flangst, 18+ for discussions of sex warnings/tags: gn!reader I think, mentions of going to a bar/going for drinks, very suppressed mutual pining, jealousy from Spencer, reader implied to engage in casual sex, reader calls themself a slut somewhat disparagingly but like as a joke, it all gets resolved, he is very sweet, he rambles when he's nervous a/n: oh God I love them so much they are like so in love and they literally have no idea at all because they're so dumb... but WE can tell.. turning point for them

“Penelope wanted me to confirm that you guys are coming to drinks with us tonight?”

It’s something of a standing tradition for the BAU on the last Friday of every month, and usually you’d agree, but tonight, you have other plans.

“Raincheck for me,” you say, sliding some files into your bag which you do not plan on reviewing. “I have a thing.”

“What thing do you have on a Friday night?” Morgan asks skeptically. You don’t bother looking at him as you hide a smile.

“A date, Morgan. You jealous?”

“You’re going on a date?”

You’d nearly forgotten Spencer was in the room until he spoke—he’s been in one of those quiet moods of his where he sort of floats around everyone else and makes himself insubstantial. As you cast him a sidelong glance, trying to figure out his tone of voice, you see he’s frowning. Nearly grimacing. His brows are drawn so tight you’re worried he’ll give himself a headache.

“Uh, yeah. I am.” Suddenly, your parade feels a little rained on.

“With who?”

You pause, looking back down at your desk with a new frown of your own and shaking your head as if you could clear it that way. “Just… some guy from OT.”

“Dalton?”

Ding ding ding. Somehow he got it right on the first guess, and for some reason, you wish he hadn’t. You don’t want Spencer knowing who you’re going on a date with. It feels wrong.

“Does it matter?” You evade, shoving your things with a little more force into your bag.

“Well Dalton is an idiot, so I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you’d go out with him.”

“And if it’s not Dalton?”

“Then I’d tell you all the guys in OT are idiots and you shouldn’t waste your time on any of them.”

“Alright—” Morgan passes between your desks, placing a friendly hand on your back as he does. “I’m gonna let you two hash this out by yourselves.” He gives you a look, eyebrows raised, unsmiling, that means, go easy on the kid. It makes you feel terribly guilty. And more than a little defensive.

“Night,” you call halfheartedly. He only waves as the glass doors swing shut behind him, leaving you and boy genius alone in the bull pen.

Silence falls, cloistering you as you finish packing up together. It seems to magnify the buzz of the overheads. You notice him intentionally lingering, and you sling your bag over your shoulder with a sigh.

“Okay,” you say, turning to face him with your whole body. He seems uncomfortable with that, but you’re not letting this go. “What is this? Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” he mumbles, refusing to meet your eyes. “I just think—”

“Yeah. You’ve made your thoughts abundantly clear. I don’t know why you’re judging me for going on a date.”

“I’m not judging you! I just think you deserve better than a guy who looks like he… snorts protein powder for every meal and has less capacity for intelligent conversation than a mealworm.”

“Okay. Do you have someone in mind?”

The words come out a little sharper than you’d meant for them to. A little louder. Spencer looks like a scolded puppy as he swallows.

“Not specifically. Just—someone more like you.”

He just doesn’t get it. You fold your jacket over your arm.

“Yeah, well, until someone more like me comes along and asks me out, Dalton is the best I’ve got. I know he’s not my soulmate, Reid. But he asked me to drinks, and I said yes.”

The room is mostly dark. Only a few fluorescents remain on to cast Spencer in an almost clinical glow against a dark grey background. You’ve been here before. It feels like an interrogation. An environment where you’re practically begging for the truth without saying please, but there’s only room for measured dishonesty.

Spencer speaks under his breath, fiddling with the strap of his own bag. “He’s not good enough for you.”

“What do you want me to do?” It’s an exasperated, confrontational sigh. Your arms raise and fall heavily back to your sides. Another long grey hallway of silence that leads nowhere. When it becomes clear he doesn’t have the answer, or he’s not comfortable sharing, you straighten. “I’ll see you Monday, Reid.”

Your spirits are completely dampened as you trudge to the elevators. What once seemed like an exciting opportunity now only serves as a depressing reminder that you’re wasting your time with a man who isn’t what you want. Maybe you should just call the whole thing off.

“Wait,” Spencer calls, half-jogging to catch the open elevator. His bag bobs with every step, pens and things jingling around inside. It’s endearing, even though you’re upset with him. Your arms remain stubbornly crossed, but he makes it anyway. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your mood.”

You laugh dryly. “Yeah, well…”

“It’s just that…” he sniffs and looks down, hair falling in front of his face. He really is sweet, even when he’s kind of a dick. He’s full of so much sincerity he doesn’t know what to do with it all. “I know how you are—you’re special, and funny, and intelligent, and, and Dalton—all those qualities are wasted on him. He looks at you and he just sees a pretty face. It may sound trite, but… he doesn’t deserve you.”

You sigh again, heart squeezing. The glowing light on the panel of floor numbers flickers. “I know your heart is in the right place, alright? But it’s not about who deserves me or who doesn’t. I’m not a prize. I’m a person, and people like to feel wanted. Sometimes, it’s just—it’s about who’s there, and who likes me enough to say it to my face. Sometimes that’s all I need, and I know you didn’t mean it like this, but when you say he doesn’t deserve me, it really seems like you’re not considering what I might want at all. Maybe Dalton is what I want.”

God—this elevator ride is like, comedically long.

“Is he what you want?”

At least he has the bravery to ask.

You glance over at Spencer, washed out bloodless and looking like he’s prepared to flinch, like he doesn’t know if he’s ready for the answer. The doors ding and slide open, and stale air whooshes from the chrome compartment into the lobby like a held breath finally exhaled. You swallow.

“I don’t know why it matters to you.”

“Because you’re my friend and I want to see you happy,” he insists, trailing after you as you speed walk through the lobby. Every click of your heeled boots echos.

“Then shouldn’t you be supporting me?”

“I’m not going to support you in making the wrong choice.”

The conversation spills out into the bitter-cold parking lot. You turn around to face him.

“Respectfully, you have no idea what’s right or wrong for me. I don’t like whatever this is,” you say, gesturing with a finger between the two of you, as if the conflict were a tangible thing—a phone line hanging between your hearts. “I don’t know if it’s, like, jealousy, or some misplaced feeling of possessiveness, or protectiveness, or—”

“It’s not like that!” He splutters.

“Okay—so what is it like? If you want to see me happy, why don’t you support me in pursuing the things that make me happy? And if that’s meaningless sex with some guy from operational tech, so be it! You are not in a position to give your two cents on who I sleep with!”

“I wasn’t trying to—I wasn’t even thinking about—about sex! I don’t care who you sleep with!”

He’s turning increasingly pink.

“Fine. But if you weren’t thinking about sex, if you thought I was under any illusion that Dalton was going to be my fucking Prince Charming then clearly you’re not equipped to have this conversation. I know he’s an idiot. I’m not looking for my soulmate—thank you, though, for reminding me that it’s completely fucking pointless to even pretend. I love you, Spencer, but grow up. And stay out of my business.”

And with that, you’re turning on your heel and marching toward your car. Spencer calls your name—once. Twice. The wind lashes against your bare arms and stings your eyes as you fumble with your keys.

It’s just the wind.

Nothing else.

Maybe you’re simply not meant for love.

It’s a narcissistic thought in the sense that everyone has it at some point in their lives—everyone falls victim to the delusion that they are so uniquely wretched, so singularly incapable of being understood by another person. It’s the universal illusion of solitude. And you’d thought yourself above it for a long time. In college, there was fling after fling. Your bed was never empty if you didn’t want it to be. In your young adult life, you have other priorities—but you rarely have to be alone.

Now, though, as you sit on a rickety metal stool deep in the bowels of the Bureau’s records room, banished to sort through files in search of one that had been mishandled during a cold case and is now supposedly relevant again, (although you’re not sure it actually exists) you’re pondering the nature of those connections you’d been so sure your life was full of. Were they all artificial? Designed by you subconsciously to manufacture a sense of complacent satisfaction? To stave off the aching, gnawing loneliness in your gut that you’re only now becoming aware of and has been eating you away in bigger and bigger bites since Friday night?

Morgan was supposed to be just as arm-deep into a box of dusty manila folders as you are now, but he talked his way out of it, and you’re sitting in an awkward twenty-minute-long-so-far silence with Spencer. Which isn’t helping anything.

The tension comes and goes like the moon pulling the tides. It’s like you can sense it wafting off of each other—you feel it in the prickle on the back of your neck and the buzz in your stomach when he’s about to say something, and you glance over, and he’s already looking at you with his lips parted, and then he doesn’t say anything after all, and the silence reinforces itself.

It gets frustrating.

Not to mention this task is equal parts mind numbing and infuriating. Maybe Hotch just hates you.

Eventually Spencer clears his throat, and you welcome the distraction.

“What year are you on?”

You give him a long look which he doesn’t reciprocate, because you want to say, really? But eventually you pick up the edge of the box you’re sifting through and double check.

“Uh… June 1979 through August 1979.”

He nods matter-of-facts. “They should be making us wear gloves.”

Your incoming tangent spidey senses are tingling. It’s not exactly an opportune time, but it’s better than silence.

Plus—you’re pretty sure this is his idea of a peace offering.

“Why’s that?” You mutter, flicking through yellowed papers.

“Wood pulp paper contains an alum-rosin mixture to minimize ink bleeding, but in the presence of moisture such as that introduced in trace amounts by our fingertips it generates a diluted sulfuric acid solution. They didn’t start adding alkaline buffers into paper until 1986, and the cellulose chains that comprise the structure of the paper inevitably shorten and break down over time, so we’re actively degrading these documents by touching them without gloves.”

“Did you say sulfuric acid?”

“I said a diluted sulfuric acid solution,” he clarifies, utterly missing the point of your question as he so often does in that disarmingly endearing way of his. “Sorry, by the way.”

You look up from a photo of bloodied bell-bottom jeans. He’s caught you by surprise.

“For what?”

“For—”

He struggles with the words—you watch his lips form a few silent ones before he gives up on the nonchalant act and sets his file on his lap. He can’t seem to tear his eyes from it, but you don’t mind.

“For everything on Friday. I… I know it was none of my business. I sometimes struggle with… keeping my thoughts to myself. Especially when it concerns someone I care about. But I wasn’t judging you, I swear. What you said about—about sex, I—” he sighs, obviously frustrated with himself, and pushes a bit of hair out of his eyes. “That’s not where my mind was at, at all. Whatever you… do, or don’t do, is none of my business. Obviously. You don’t need me to tell you that. You don’t need me to tell you anything. I just really wanted to clarify that I wasn’t shaming you or judging you for—”

“Spencer,” you say gently, cutting him off and reeling him in before he can dig any deeper.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

He glows under the canned lighting, a soft aura of white blurring the edges of him. The stale room buzzes. It’s otherwise quiet down here. Peaceful, almost.

From anyone else, you might consider it overstepping.

You wouldn’t have been willing to forgive them in the first place.

But it’s not anyone else.

“Thank you, for apologizing. I really appreciate it.”

He glances up at you, sort of hunched—always trying to make himself smaller than whatever force created him had intended. The deep brown of his eyes is melted and swirling and sweet and nervous. He’s not naturally good at these interpersonal things, but he’s always trying. He’s always pushing himself for you.

Do you ask too much?

Do you offer enough in return?

Struck by sudden insecurity, you look away. Go back to your files.

Perhaps you made a mountain out of a molehill and told him to climb it.

“I mean, I am kind of a slut. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking so,” you laugh airily. “Maybe it was a good reality check.”

A trailing silence. An air conditioner kicks on.

“What? That’s not—that’s not at all what I was trying to say.”

“Spencer, it’s fine.”

His stool squeaks as he sits up straighter.

“No, I really want you to understand. Even if I cared or thought about how many people you might sleep with—which I don’t—and even if I determined that you were… sexually promiscuous, I wouldn’t assign a moral value to that judgement. Sexual promiscuity is observed all the time in the animal kingdom, it’s biologically sound and justified and in less misogynistic cultures where bonds forged between humans weren’t socioeconomic arrangements dependent on women being viewed as commodities first and foremost, it’s completely unremarkable. But I haven’t made that determination. All I know is that… you’re you. And that’s all that’s ever going to matter to me.”

Silence falls. Your voice gets stuck in your throat.

How does he so casually show you more kindness than anyone else has ever managed to show you in your life?

Spencer takes pity on you.

“And… we’ve talked entirely too much about something that’s none of my business today.”

It’s wry and earns a chuckle from you. Even Spencer manages a chagrined smile. That same strand of hair falls loose as he looks down. Light bounces from his self-effacing smirk.

You fiddle absentmindedly with the fraying corner of a folder, and you’re about to open your mouth, about to speak into the sparkling cloud that the easy laughter and the melted tension has left in its wake, and tell him how much you appreciate him and how kind he truly is and undoubtedly whatever you say will be made more beautiful because of it—because of the affection you have for each other—and then you stop, eyes catching on the case file between your fingers. You frown.

“Wait—what’s the case number we’re looking for?”

“91 18 00063 7.”

You hold the file up, eyes alight.

“I found it.”

Spencer frowns and takes it without asking. You watch as he reviews the number in tiny black typeface along the top of the document. His brow scrunches in disbelief.

“I genuinely didn’t think we were ever going to find it,” he murmurs after leading through the photos and glances back up at you. “We had thirty years of boxes to look through and you found it in under an hour. You’re like magic.”

It’s impossible not to smile. You feel all warm and sparkly as you snatch it back from him and stand, straightening your jacket.

“Will you tell that to Hotch?”

“I… will tell anyone who will listen,” he assures you, and you’re confident he’s following as you make your way through the maze of stacks. “Are we not gonna clean up our mess?”

“There are people who will take care of that later.”

“Yeah. Like me. During my lunch break.”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to be well rewarded for your efforts today.”

“What does that mean?” He mumbles, and you can practically hear his blush.

You smile to yourself.

Still got it.

for more of these two, check out the bandages universe masterlist!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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notyourjaem · 5 months ago

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2:46 AM ★ P. JISUNG

★ PAIRING: boyfriend!jisung x female!reader

★ GENRE: est. relationship, period sex, NSFW

★ SUMMARY: you can’t sleep because of your period cramps, good thing your boyfriend knows of a way to help you feel better.

★ WORD COUNT: 1.2k

★ CONTENT/WARNINGS: period! sex! do not read if you don’t like that!, multiple orgasms, fingering, red hair jisung (grants a warning), jisung is a very sweet boy, nipple sucking, soft sex/somewhat rough sex, creampie. oh and this isn’t really proofread 💀 sorry

★ AUTHORS NOTE: uhhhh I was on my period when I started this and one thing let to another and..yeah. first time writing period sex so lemme know how I did 😎 I will tag my girl @be-my-sunrise because she is my #1 jisung whore. this is for uuuu!! 💞 and happy birthday jisung even though im a day late (never a dollar short)

You stared at the red numbers glowing on the alarm clock the bedside table before rubbing your eyes; almost like the numbers would change when you looked again.

nope, still the same.

Shifting around underneath the comforter, you turned over to see your boyfriend in a deep sleep. You huffed, clearly feeling some kind of envy of Jisung actually feeling comfortable enough to fall asleep.

You turned back over, trying to fix the blankets before Jisung’s voice stopped you.

“What are you doing?” Judging by his tone and volume of his voice, you could tell that you had just woke him up.

You turned to him. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Yes.” Jisung answered before pulling you closer to him, and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Why are you awake?”

“Because, I can’t sleep.” Your voice was slightly whiny in comparison to Jisungs quiet tone.

“What’s wrong? You didn’t sleep at all?” Now there was concern in his voice as he was now fully awake.

“No, I can’t get comfortable.” You tried your best to snuggle against his chest, but couldn’t shake the dull ache in your abdomen. “I’m like in pain.”

“Do you want some medicine? I’ll go get it.” Jisung’s fingers traced along your back as you closed your eyes.

“No, don’t get up. You’re so warm.” You put a hand against his chest as if to hold him still when Jisung never moved.

The two of you laid like that for what felt like a long time; Jisung shifting under the blankets to check what time it was. You were still awake.

“You’re still awake.” Jisung spoke, but you were unsure if it was a question or a statement.

“I’m still uncomfortable.” You winced; no amount of Jisung’s warm embrace could distract you.

“I know something that might help.” Jisung’s fingers traced patterns over your back as he spoke.

You knew exactly what he was talking about. “Ji, that’s going to be so messy.” You could only imagine what a mess all of the bodily fluids would be; nevermind the cleanup.

“Sweetheart, sheets go in the washing machine. I’ll remake the bed while you take a shower. Easy.” Jisung pressed a kiss behind your ear, sending electricity right through you. Damn you, hormones.

“You can make me feel better?” You pouted.

“mhm.” He hummed in response. “Lie on your back for me.”

Jisung gave you space to adjust yourself; hovering over you as you lied on your back. He adjusted the pillows behind your head to make sure you were comfortable.

You lifted your hips slightly as Jisung pulled your underwear off of you, putting them in a safe spot to the side of the bed.

“Tell me if you feel uncomfortable; I’ll stop.” Jisung spoke softly to you as he pushed your knees upwards to your chest.

You nodded. “Mhm.” As you braced for Jisungs touch.

Finally, his fingertips were pressing against your clit; moving in slow circles. You could tell he was testing the waters and seeing how you felt.

“Shit. That feels good.” You muttered; any tension you had melting away. “Come closer, I want you closer to me.”

Jisung smirked, doing as you wanted. He changed his position so he was directly over you. “Better?” He asked as a strand of red hair fell in his face.

“Yeah. Better.” You brushed his hair away from his face before kissing him.

Catching you completely off guard, Jisung effortlessly slipped his middle and ring finger inside of your cunt.

Your jaw fell slack as you moaned into his mouth “Oh my fuck, Jisung.”

“Yeah, tell me.” He muttered close to your ear as he was thrusting his fingers into you like his life depended on it. “Tell me how good that feels.”

You let out a choked moan, one of your hands reaching to grab onto your pillow. “So good, Ji. Shit.”

“Good girl, doing so good.” Jisung praised you before slipping another finger into you, making your face contort at the added pressure between your legs.

“Fuck.” You sighed, feeling an orgasm creeping up on you.

“I can tell you’re close.” Jisung spoke mostly to himself as you caught him watching his fingers move in and out of you. “Make a mess out of me; go ahead.”

His words made your stomach tighten, and Jisung let out a moan when he could hear the wet noises coming from your cunt; doing exactly as you were told.

Jisung pushed your shirt up with his free hand, pressing it flat against your stomach.

“Jisung, don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop.” You pleaded as you put your hand over his.

“Fuck.” Jisung muttered under his breath, relishing in the way that you were begging him to ruin you.

You grabbed onto his wrist, whimpering when he started finger fucking you with vigor this time; your legs practically trembling and threatening to close.

Jisung pulled himself away from you, coming close to you once more to kiss you. “I’m gonna fuck you so good.”

In a fleeting moment, Jisung left you as he stood to remove his clothing. He came back to you, pulling you further down the bed by your hips.

“You’re so pretty.” Jisung spoke as he admired your fucked out expression. “Look at Me.”

He kissed you as soon as you turned to look at him. “How do you feel?” Jisung asked you innocently before you felt his thumb tracing over your right nipple.

You whimpered from the sensitivity of your body already; not giving him a full answer.

“Good?” Jisung dropped his head down, and as you moved underneath him, he caught your nipple in his mouth.

You let out a rather loud whine at the feeling; grabbing a hold of his hair once again as he grunted, sucking and nibbling at the swollen bud.

“Jisung, please!” You pathetically begged him, earning exactly what you wanted.

Jisung finally aligned his cockhead with your core, swiping it along your folds; definitely making a mess now.

Finally he pushed himself inside of you, letting out a sigh of pleasure when he did so.

“Oh my god, you feel so good.” Jisung wasn’t even inside of you all of the way.

You weren’t sure if it was because of your period, or the fact that Jisung already pulled two orgasms out of you, but you were definitely not going to last long.

You gave him so response except a meek whine before he was fucking into you; slow and deep.

“Ji-fuck!” You grabbed onto his bicep with one of your hands before he laced his fingers with yours; tightly holding your hand. “You can’t do that to me.”

“I think I can.” Jisung answered, kissing your jaw a few times before changing his pace.

Eventually he was slamming into you; getting carried away by your moaning and whining.

“Gonna cum in you; make a mess out of you.” Jisung grunted in your ear, making you yelp. “You like that?”

“Please, please.” You couldn’t answer fast enough before you felt him release inside of you; whimpering at how messy you felt.

“Fuck.” Jisung swore, steadying his breathing as he came down from his own high.

He kissed you on the forehead. “Feel better?”

You nodded, eyes feeling heavy. “A lot better…but tired.”

You must have started to doze off, before Jisung stopped you. “No, no, no. Let me clean you up. Don’t fall asleep like this.”

The switch up of him made you chuckle. “Okay, I’ll try not to.”

“Really, let me start a bath, I’ll change the sheets, and then we can get some sleep.”

Sounds like a plan.

#park jisung smut #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #park jisung x reader #kvanity

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fushiguro-megloomy · 7 months ago

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request: [modern au] headcannons for childhood friends to lovers pairing: viktor x gn!reader tags: nothing bad, very sfw, fluffy notes: ill be so for real with you i feel like i'm very weak at doing headcannons ;-; but i tried. i hope this is what you were looking for anon <3 divider from enchanthings-a

You’d known Viktor for as long as you could remember, his house across the street from yours. As a curious kid, you’d often linger while he tinkered with small projects, asking questions. Your friendship really solidified one summer when your bike broke, and Viktor fixed it with surprising enthusiasm. To repay him, you let him ride on the handlebars while you scooted him around the neighborhood.

He's absolutely critiquing your work before the teachers even get their hands on it. Sitting beside you at your desk clump, thick eyebrows pulled together and scribbling little “???” or just straight up “no” in the margins of your handwriting. You always glare at him but you're secretly grateful.

He's observant, if you were hungry or tired he would wordlessly slide snacks onto your desk. He's not the best with social queues, but he knows when you're upset and he'll hover around you awkwardly until he blurts some random fact or sarcastic comment meant to distract you.

He's easily jealous, but in the way that he gets pouty, throwing himself into projects and denying anything is even wrong.

Definitely getting into squabbles all the time bickering like an old married couple

He's always gave you something handmade for your birthday. You still have it all. He's not big on his own birthdays but you always bring him a homemade cupcake.

This is not an original thought but he's definitely a gossip, ESPECIALLY as you grow into teen-hood. Not outwardly, but still he would unleash all his unfiltered opinions onto you, and his face definitely gives him away when he's silently judging someone. Mans got a wicked side eye.

Viktor had taken over his parents’ garage as his workshop, and it quickly became your second home. Most of your free time was spent perched on a stool, watching him work or pestering him with questions. You fell asleep there so often that he eventually squeezed a secondhand couch into the tiny space, insisting you needed somewhere more comfortable to crash.

You're each other's first kiss, but it doesn't happen until senior year. You're in his garage, complaining about never having kissed someone and he's like alright so let's kiss??? Things spiral from there.

“I mean, what kind of tragic story is that?” you grumble, tossing a pillow at him. “Eighteen and never kissed anyone. I’ll be the cautionary tale for future students.” Viktor chuckles softly but doesn’t look up from his work. “I don’t see what the rush is. It’s not as if it matters.” “It matters to me,” you insist, sitting up. “Don’t you want to at least know what it’s like?” He stared at you for a moment, then let out a sigh, setting his tools aside. “Alright, then.” You blinked at him, confused. “Alright what?” He stepped closer, hands slipping into his pockets as he looked down at you. “Let’s kiss.” Your heart skipped a beat. “What?!” “You’re complaining about it, so, we kiss, you stop worrying about it, and we both move on. Simple.” His voice was steady, but the faint pink rising to his cheeks betrayed him. “You’re serious?” you asked, sitting up straighter. “Unless you’re too scared.” That did it. “I’m not scared,” you snapped, standing to face him. “Good,” he murmured, leaning in just enough for you to feel his breath against your lips. “Then stop talking.” Before you could come up with a retort, his lips pressed against yours, soft and careful. It was brief but left you reeling, your heart pounding as he pulled back. “Well?” he asked, tilting his head. “That should suffice, no?” You stared at him, dumbfounded, before bursting into laughter. “Yeah… yeah, I guess it’ll do.” He smirked, turning back to his workbench, though the tips of his ears were unmistakably red. “You’re welcome.” It was just a kiss, you told yourself. But as you sat back down, touching your lips absentmindedly, you couldn’t help but wonder why your heart was still racing.

©lilsworks 2024

#viktor x reader #viktor headcannons #reader x viktor #arcane x you #viktor x you #friends to lovers #viktor arcane #viktor #arcane #arcane viktor

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grimm-writings · 1 year ago

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Hi there!

I'd like to request something for the Laios party x reader where reader licks rocks like how archaeologists sometimes do to determine if it's a rock or a fossil. They just won't stop licking stuff. One moment you are just having a chat and walking side by side and the next reader grabs a rock and licks it. How would they react to their crush licking things that are certainly not food?

“stop licking the damn thing!”

…ft! touden party x gn! reader, platonic izutsumi & reader

…tags! fluff, some crack, headcanon format, grimm doesn't know shit about rocks

…wc! 342 ; 400 ; 405 ; 344 ; 303 = 1794

…notes! this ask enraptured me i had to complete it posthaste. i’m not an expert in archeology or geology, but i hope you enjoy!

Laios

“Ooh, can I have a lick?”

His ass does NOT give a fuck.

You could do anything and he wouldn’t be fazed I’m dead serious.

Honestly, once you do it in front of him he’d steer the conversation towards your study and how you figure out each time what is a rock and what is a fossil.

He may not fully take in all the information you give him. This isn’t a topic he’s admittedly too interested in.

Honestly he’d probably take up some of your advice and see if he tastes monster he can figure out certain things about it. Considering most monsters are made of raw meat, he has to be held back by your fellow partymates.

Someone (Chilchuck) usually has to encourage you to not “enable his behaviours.”

Overall, Laios simply does not judge! He’s open and welcoming, and will even take part in your study with you!

(It’s an added bonus that he really likes how you explain things to him…)

Almost like an eager dog, Laios leans over your shoulder to look at the stone in your hand. Prepared to explain yourself, like usual, you take a breath. “May I?” he interrupts you. You still for a second. Does he mean…? You slowly lift the rock up to the taller man behind you. You don’t have any words as he leans down to give a small lick. You’re almost flattered from how open he is to it. At the taste, Laios’ eyebrows furrow, and he seems to seriously try to dissect the flavour. He hums and tilts his head to you. “Salty?” “Yeah,” you reply, slowly growing a bit more comfortable as you get an excuse to talk about your study, “so that means this rock might contain evaporite minerals.” Laios smiles slightly, leaning back to his full height to converse with you in a more casual position. “Which are?” Your conversation continues, with Laios taking mental notes that he’ll hopefully remember for later next time he comes across a monster. Maybe if you find a gargoyle…

Marcille

Sorry she is so judgemental.

You are so lucky she likes you or else she’ll loudly give her opinion on how gross it is.

Well, that is until she learns the context as to why.

She’ll still be a little bit unsure, wondering if it’s proper conduct at all.

Marcille is trying her best, she really is, but you can’t just end a conversation so suddenly because you saw a rock, licked it in front of her, and said “hm… sedimentary.”

She wonders every day what she did to deserve such an… interesting taste in crushes.

Though, like all things, give Marcille some time and she’ll warm up to your habits a bit more. It may even be that she’ll be wondering about her study of the dungeon, running her hand along the wall, and thinking that she could call out to you to taste the wall and tell her the material.

She may not try out the method herself, but she’ll at least tolerate how you do it. There’s a science behind it, after all…

Marcille stares as you lick your lips and hum to yourself. Her mouth is a thin line and she’s trying her best not to come out with a disapproving comment. “Any… interesting findings…?” She stiffly asks instead, gripping Ambrosia as if you’ll try licking her to figure out the levels of Mana too. You can never be too cautious, even if she is only made out of wood. You smile at Marcille, either blissfully unaware of her austerity or pretending to be. You hold up the stone in your hand and outline something with your finger. “I think if we break this, we might find some fossils inside it. You can keep it for your research if you want.” Marcille’s ears perk up slightly at that. “For… me?” She asks aloud, as if there’s anyone else who’d be interested in dungeon rocks. As soon as she processes it she’s flushed and avoiding eye contact. “I mean, this is your field of study, not mine! I couldn’t possibly…” But you take her hands in your own, and place the fossil in her palm. Marcille’s breath hitches when you take her fingers and fold them over the stone. “I trust you to come up with something.” You beam at the elf, and she thinks that she might just have to take a chance in your skills.

Chilchuck

Not exactly open to it, not entirely critical about it either…

…But you will get a bit of a look whenever you do it.

He might be more the kind to make sure you aren’t outright doing it at stupid moments. You better not get any ideas looking at those statues!

Sometimes you’ll be about to hold the stone up to your mouth, and right when your tongue is about to touch it, you’ll hear Chilchuck sigh a “don’t.”

Honestly this guy is treating you like a dog with something it shouldn’t have in its mouth. Don’t worry, worrying and fretting is how he shows his love.

Even if he doesn’t like admitting to it…

If you try to explain how licking things helps in your study, Chil is inclined to raise his eyebrow and say that your field must be full of weirdos.

Then again, he’s the one who likes you so maybe he shouldn’t be too harsh…

He’s willing to let you do what you need to do but that doesn’t mean you’re free from his scathing commentary.

Crouched down, you analyse some rock in front of you. It stands out a fair bit from most of the other geodes down here. What could it be…? You lean in, your tongue grazing the stone slightly, and you lick. The tip of your tongue familiarises itself with the taste. Maybe metamorphic…? “Are you serious?” You freeze at the sound of Chilchuck’s boyish voice. On your hands and knees licking rocks isn’t exactly the ideal position to be judged in, even as you turn to look at the half-foot, arms crossed. “Senshi is in the middle of cooking, no need to resort to eating rocks.” You roll your eyes. You’re used to how Chilchuck treats your study at this point. “I was just curious.” Chilchuck scoffs, walking up to pull you by the back of your collar up onto your feet again, which you do with some coercion. “Yeah sure,” he says, “just wanna confirm you haven’t completely lost your marbles yet.” You look up at him, and squint. Holding back a laugh, you mutter, “was that…?” “No, it wasn’t a dad joke,” Chilchuck sighs, leaving you to your devices again. “Just don’t do anything stupid when no one’s watching.” He hopes even as you giggle and confirm, you won’t notice the bright blush blooming on Chilchuck’s cheeks and tips of his ears. How embarrassing…

Senshi

Also winning the dgaf war I fear.

He’d watch you lick some of the rocks you had picked out from your travels while resting.

It comes as no surprise that it then crosses his mind if the flavour changes when cooked, which he asks if he can do with some of your selection.

You can use your imagination on how Marcille and Chilchuck reacted when told that today’s dinner is … just rocks.

(Laios is disappointed that it isn’t any cool monster rocks.)

One delightful montage later, and ‘tis finished! Since they are for your research, Senshi insists you have the first bite.

Crunch… and oh, such unique flavours!

You gush to Senshi about how this is a major breakthrough in how different minerals react to cooking conditions, and he gives you his observations too.

Honestly, just sort of wholesome bonding!

“Aye, this one cooked easily, while this one took plenty more time.” You nod eagerly as you watch Senshi point to two different stones. “That’s because one is an igneous rock, which is magmatic. The other is a sedimentary rock, which carries different minerals from lakes and oceans. Separation in cooking must have resulted in different reactions! I wonder how different metamorphic rocks would react…” As you mumble to yourself, Senshi happily continues his meal-making, occasionally responding back to you with hums and comments about what else each observed in his experimentation. Even when you had finished up your meal entirely, you thanked Senshi with the widest grin on your face. He couldn’t help but be just a little flattered when you go on to joke that you should bring him home with you so he can help with your research. In return, Senshi listens to you, and hangs on your every word as you explain your findings to him. Even if not too nutritious of a meal, the minerals from the rocks provide some calcium and other such buffs! And well… If he can keep that happiness prolonged with his cooking, then he’s doing a very good job providing for you indeed!

Izutsumi

“Why are you eating rocks? Looks gross.”

Make way for the #1 hater…

Izutsumi refuses to listen to any such rationalities you make about your study or why you lick rocks (even though she’s the one who asked), she’s still finding it icky and weird.

You’d have to fight fire with fire when it comes to her, you’ll question why she does some habits she does in return – such as licking her hand.

She’ll look at you like you’re stupid, before telling you that it’s a way for her to clean herself and notice if there’s anything caught in her fur.

“Ah, so like how I would lick rocks to identify anything embedded in them too!”

…How dare you try to rationalise yourself with her own logic, heathen.

Jail for reader. Jail for 1000 years.

She’s not one to so readily accept other people’s weird quirks, but eventually she has to find that she’ll look stupid if she doesn’t… It’s a bit of a dirty scheme, but it works.

“Come on, Izu, just give it a try! I promise it just tastes like water.” “What kinda water?!” She shoots back. You pause. “W…Water?” This is how the argument between whether or not water has a flavour comes to be. Izutsumi insists that some water tastes icky while others taste nice. You have to explain that this pure water simply doesn’t have a taste. She doesn’t believe you. In fact, Izutsumi makes you give the sedimentary stone another taste before affirming, it just tastes like water. She’s about to grab your shoulders and shake you. What kind of water?! It takes plenty of encouragement and an immediate failsafe orange juice Senshi squeezed out for her to ‘get rid of’ the taste when you get Izutsumi to taste the stone. She still hasn’t forgiven you…

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boybandbaby · 5 months ago

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Better (Spencer Reid x Fem!NonBAU!Reader)

word count: 1127

warnings/tags: reader wears makeup, insecurities, sweet reid, as always if I missed anything lmk

note: still trying to figure out how to write Spencer please don’t judge me 🥺

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You and Spencer were supposed to be going on a date tonight. Key phrase being: supposed to.

As you see the time flick from 5:41pm to 5:42pm, you angrily toss the spray bottle of water and hair product into the sink. You take a look at your reflection and see red rimmed eyes and a frown.

Spencer would be here at 6pm to pick you up for your dinner reservations at 7pm. You sighed as you thought about how hurt he would be when you cancelled on him. You both found your date nights sacred with your busy schedule and the demanding nature of his job.

Tonight though, you just couldn’t do it. Your hair was not working with you and you kept crying through your face of makeup. Your cheeks had tracks of eye makeup that cut through the foundation. You felt as horrible as you believed you looked.

Deciding to just rip the bandaid off, you pick up your phone from the sink and press on Spencer’s contact. It rang once before his sweet voice was cutting through the phone.

“Hi!” He breathed. You could hear his excitement through the phone. He had been wanting to see you all week why he was away on a case.

“Hi, Spence.” You croaked out.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He lowers his voice to a soft whisper.

“I-“ you gulp. “I don’t think I can go out tonight. I think I might be getting sick.” You weakly cough out.

There’s silence for a brief moment except for the whirring of the subway car.

It’s only a few seconds that feel like minutes before Spencer speaks. “Oh…” You know from his tone he is disappointed by the change of plans.

“I’m really sorry, Spencer. I really wanted to see you but I just… I’m not feeling up to it today.” You wince. “Can we reschedule?”

“I’m only a few stops away from you. I can come take care of you?” He asks, hoping you’ll agree to his offer.

“I just need to get some rest. Can I call you in the morning?” You ask.

“I don’t want to push you but I really want to see you. Sick or not. Is that okay?” He pleads.

You really don’t want him to see you like this but you’re sure one of his hugs is the only thing that could make you feel better so you agree. “Yeah, okay.” you sniffle.

“Great, thank you. I’ll be there soon.”

Precisely 20 minutes later, you hear a soft knock on your door. You’ve tried your best to remove all remnants of your small breakdown including smoothing your hair into place and scrubbing the layers of makeup. You open the door to Spencer’s already worried yet hopeful face.

He has his satchel around his chest, a plastic bag in his right hand and a bouquet of flowers in his left.

“Hi, beautiful.” He smiles shyly.

His words cause an immediate reaction in you. He’s sweet and always means what he says but you just don’t feel beautiful right now.

Tears flood your eyes and your shoulders slump. Spencer’s smile drops and he hops into action.

He steps inside your apartment and shuts the door. He throws his satchel off his body and onto the floor with the plastic bag and flowers. He wraps his arms around your back as you bury your face in his chest.

You stay in his embrace until your shoulder shakes die down and your face is sticky with tears.

“Come here, let me see you.” He pulls back and cups your face in his hand. His eyes sweep your face as his expression softens. “What’s going on?”

You lean into his hands and hold his hips. “Do you think I’m ugly?” You mumble.

His lets out an incredulous gasp. “What? Absolutely not. What makes you think that?”

“I was trying really hard to get ready but my hair wasn’t cooperating with me. Then I kept trying to redo my makeup because I kept crying and my face got all cakey. I scrubbed it all off and my face started feeling itchy from the scrubbing and then I just felt icky.” You sob, covering your face with your hands. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I just don’t feel like going out when I’m feeling like this.”

Spencer tries to pry your hands from your face. “You know I like you no matter how you look right?”

“I just wanted to look nice.” You deflect.

“You always look nice.” He compliments. “You don’t need to do anything other than be here with me for us to have a good time. We don’t have to go if you don’t want too. We can stay in and order delivery.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” He shakes his head. You nod before leaning in to capture his lips.

“What’s in the bag?” You nod to the floor. “And are those for me?”

“Of course. My pretty girl gets pretty flowers.” He smiles and picks up the plastic bag. “I also got you medicine and snacks but now that I know you’re a liar…” He trails off.

“I’m sorry! It was the only excuse I could think of that would’ve kept you from seeing me like this.”

“I’m not that bad with germs anymore.”

“Yeah, that bad.” You tease.

“Don’t be mean to me.” He hands you the flowers, joking. “You go settle in, I’ll get these into some water.” He kisses your cheek before heading to the kitchen.

You head to the bathroom and began splashing your face with cold water to alleviate the puffiness.

You hear Spencer’s footsteps approaching as he jogs to the bathroom. Before you can drop him, he grabs your face cloth before you can reach for it. He turns you around so your backside is resting against the sink. He gently pats the water drips from your face and grabs your bag of face products. He helps you moisturize, his soft hands rubbing the cream onto your cheeks. You look at him as he bites his lip in concentration.

“Thank you.” You whisper, hands resting on his hips. “For being patient with me”.

“Always.” His eyes flicker to down to meet yours. “Whenever you need some reassurance or you just need me to be here, tell me. I’ll come running.”

You nod and squeeze his hips. He smiles into it before turning you to face the mirror. “How did I do?” You watch him in the mirror as he waits for an answer.

“You did perfect, Dr. Reid.”

“I must’ve if you’re bringing out the honorifics.”

You laugh before pushing your butt back into him to nudge him away from you. “Let’s go order the food, you goof.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader

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spicyschemmenti · 4 months ago

Text

LEGAL MISHAPS ➫ casey novak

pairing: casey novak x bumbling idiot!fem!reader

synopsis: you spend the entire day being a walking disaster, and it's a good thing casey is there for your moral support

warnings: casey suffering from second hand embarassment, reader has implied existential crisis over moving, reader is basically a klutz which casey somehow finds herself growing fond of, pre-relationship/mutual pining??

word count: 1.6k

author's note: lmk if any wants to be tagged whenever i update this (mini series??)

MASTERLIST

The morning had barely started, and you were already having a disaster of a day. You were running late again. Your suit jacket was buttoned wrong, your hair was doing its best impression of "controlled chaos," and worst of all, you had managed to spill half your overpriced coffee all over the stack of files you needed for court.

You stared at the soggy, caffeine-drenched papers in your hands, horrified, as the ink from your notes bled together like some kind of tragic abstract art piece.

"Oh no, no, no—this is bad, this is so bad—" You muttered under your breath, trying to fan the pages dry as you half-walked, half-jogged through the courthouse hallway. You were so focused on your panic that you didn’t notice Casey standing outside the courtroom, arms crossed, watching you with an expression that screamed, of course this is happening.

"Let me guess," Casey drawled, pushing off the wall and falling into step beside you. "You spilled coffee on your briefs again?"

You groaned dramatically. "I prefer to think of it as... making them extra seasoned.”

Casey sighed, long-suffering but amused. She held out her hand, and you reluctantly handed over the damp stack of papers, bracing for whatever level of judgment was about to hit you. But instead of teasing you mercilessly like she definitely had every right to, Casey reached into her own folder and pulled out a pristine, perfectly organized set of your case files.

You blinked. "Wait. Are those..?"

"Copies of your documents? Yeah." Casey smirked as she shoved them into your hands. "Because I knew you'd do something like this. Again."

You gaped at her. "You preemptively fixed my mess? Casey, that’s—"

"Proof that you're a walking disaster?" She grinned. "Yeah, I know."

Your face heated, and you tried to play it cool, but let’s be real, you were failing miserably. "You, uh… you do this a lot, don’t you?"

Casey didn’t even try to deny it. Instead, she reached up and—without hesitation—fixed the buttons of your jacket, smoothing the fabric as she went. "Yeah," she murmured, flicking a bit of lint off your shoulder. "Because if I don’t, I have to watch you walk into court looking like you lost a fight with a filing cabinet. And frankly? That’s painful for both of us."

You swallowed hard, staring at her because who gave her the right to be this effortlessly attractive while bullying you?

"Uh. Thanks," you managed, voice slightly hoarse.

"Anytime," Casey said smoothly, adjusting her own blazer like she hadn’t just sent your brain into overdrive. Then she jerked her head toward the doors. "Now come on. Let’s go win this case before you manage to set yourself on fire or something."

You groaned but followed her in. Because, let’s be honest, she wasn’t wrong.

You were barely five minutes into the trial before you made your first catastrophic mistake.

Casey had just finished her opening argument—polished, professional, effortlessly commanding the room. Then it was your turn. You adjusted your jacket, smoothed out your (miraculously dry) papers, and stepped forward with as much confidence as you could muster.

"Thank you, Your Honor," you began, your voice strong. Then, for some godforsaken reason, your brain shut off mid-sentence and decided to improvise. "Listen, dude..."

A silence fell over the courtroom so heavy you could feel Casey’s soul leave her body beside you.

The judge, an older man with a permanent scowl, slowly removed his glasses, blinking at you like he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

"I'm sorry," you backpedaled, heat crawling up your neck. "I meant—uh, I meant Your Honor. Not dude. I would never call you dude. That was just—uh, force of habit? My bad. I deeply respect you, sir. Your Honor. Your Honor, sir."

Casey subtly pinched the bridge of her nose. The prosecutor coughed to cover what was definitely a laugh.

The judge just sighed. "Move on, counselor."

You nodded rapidly, trying to pretend that didn’t just happen. But of course, that was only the beginning.

—

About halfway through the trial, things were going surprisingly well. You'd gotten back on track, made some solid arguments, and had only tripped over your own words twice. Casey even seemed vaguely impressed. You started feeling a little cocky.

And then the defendant—the woman on trial for murder, mind you—got up to testify.

She was… well. Objectively speaking, kind of attractive. Sharp cheekbones, piercing eyes, that whole "dangerous and knows it" vibe. Not that it mattered because she was a literal murderer, but your brain, like the absolute traitor it was, decided to acknowledge it anyway.

So of course, when you leaned over to Casey to whisper something strategic, what actually came out was:

"Damn, she's hot."

Casey whipped her head toward you so fast you almost got whiplash by association. "Excuse me?"

You froze. "What?"

"Did you just call the murder suspect—"

"No!" you whisper-hissed. "I mean—technically, yes—but not in, like, a real way—"

Casey stared at you like you were the dumbest person alive. "Shut up and focus," she muttered, clearly trying not to laugh but also visibly questioning every life choice that led to working with you.

—

By the end of the trial, though, you redeemed yourself.

You annihilated the defendant on cross-examination, tearing her story apart so thoroughly she actually got visibly pissed, which made her look so much guiltier. You had the jury eating out of the palm of your hand. Even Casey was looking at you with something dangerously close to admiration.

And then, as you stepped back toward your seat, basking in the high of your total courtroom dominance—

You tripped.

Over nothing.

Face-first, straight to the ground. Papers went flying. Someone in the gallery gasped. The prosecutor actually choked.

And Casey?

Casey covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking, her eyes twinkling as she leaned down and whispered, "Damn, that was hot."

You groaned into the floor. "I hate you."

She just grinned, reaching down to offer you a hand. "Come on, dude," she teased. "Get up before the judge holds you in contempt of gravity."

Back in your office, you barely had time to close the door behind you before you started your inevitable downward spiral of animated regret.

"Oh my god, Casey," you groaned, running a hand through your hair as you paced dramatically. "That was horrifying. Mortifying. My soul left my body at least twice. I called the judge dude, I made some seriously questionable commentary about a murderer, and then I wiped out in front of the entire courtroom. I am a disgrace to the legal profession. They’re gonna disbar me for sheer incompetence. I can't believe I'm your boss!"

"Breathe," Casey interrupted, leaning against your desk with a smirk. "You won the case. That’s what actually matters. Besides…" She folded her arms, eyes dancing with amusement. "It was entertaining."

You gasped, clutching your chest in fake betrayal. "Entertaining?!"

"Very," she confirmed, grinning.

You groaned again, flopping into your chair like the weight of your own chaos had physically defeated you. "I seriously don’t know how you still have any patience left for me."

Casey tilted her head, pretending to think about it. "Good question," she mused. "I guess you just keep me on my toes. Gotta admit, work would be way less interesting without you around to self-destruct every five minutes."

You shot her a half-hearted glare, but it didn’t last long. Especially when she shifted gears entirely and casually asked, "So, you got any plans this weekend?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

"Weekend," she repeated, giving you a pointed look. "Two days where you ideally don’t embarrass yourself in a courtroom?"

"Oh! Uh—yeah, kinda," you admitted, leaning back in your chair. "Since this DA job is new, I just moved closer to the office, and now my apartment’s basically a mountain of unopened boxes. So, my entire weekend plan consists of unpacking and maybe finally figuring out where the hell I put my coffee maker."

Casey raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like a nightmare."

You flashed her a lopsided grin. "Eh. What can go wrong?"

And then, as if the universe itself had a personal vendetta against you, you somehow managed to poke yourself in the eye while gesturing.

"OH, COME ON!" you yelped, immediately clutching your face as Casey burst into full-blown laughter.

"Unbelievable," she said, shaking her head, though she was clearly enjoying herself far too much. "You are a danger to yourself. How have you survived this long?"

"Honestly?" You winced, blinking rapidly. "Pure luck and stubbornness."

Casey sighed, but there was something way too fond in the way she was looking at you. Then, completely effortlessly, she announced, "Alright. I’ll swing by on Saturday and help you unpack."

You froze. "Wait, what?"

"Saturday," she repeated, like this was just some normal, casual thing and not a mind-blowing turn of events. "I’m coming over. Because if I don’t, you’re probably going to end up trapped under a pile of boxes, and I refuse to be the one to explain that to the paramedics."

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. "You’re willingly offering to spend your day off helping me move in?"

"Yeah." She shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. "And because, let’s be honest! you’ll probably make an even bigger mess if left unsupervised."

You stared at her, trying to process. Trying not to overthink the fact that she wanted to spend her weekend with you. That she was offering, just like that.

"…Casey Novak," you said finally, voice full of exaggerated emotion. "Are we about to become best friends?"

She rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile. "Don’t push it."

You grinned, heart doing something suspiciously warm in your chest.

This weekend was going to be interesting.

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 1 year ago

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the albatross - m. murdock

a/n: hi everyone! so this is that weird and off putting reader i was mentioning earlier! she's not that weird but she's sort of odd so yeah. also i know bucky is the winter soldier but idk how else to tag this so oh well! i do have lore and stuff for readers time as a soldier so i'll include that in later installments! i was kind of in a writers block and this pushed me out of that. so enjoy! please please tell me what you thought and if you want more! warnings: cursing, mentions of death, war, torture, pain, people being dead, reader having horrible people skills and ptsd, mentions of sex maybe? uhmmm in general reader is just sort of strange and this is her and matt's early relationship, so sorry if i missed anything ! word count: 3.6k summary: you have spent the past ninety (give or take) years tortured and in pain. then, a handsome stranger comes into your life and changes everything. pairing: matt murdock x winter soldier!fem!reader now playing: the albatross - taylor swift "i'm the albatross/i swept in at the rescue/the devil that you know/looks now more like an angel/i'm the life you chose/and all this terrible danger"

You’re working a morning shift at the bakery when he comes in. The pastries in the case are laid out just so, and you have been meticulously working on this sign for your fall specials. You are determined to focus on something that is not how poorly you slept, your hair tied up in a braid behind you as you work.

You’re determined to get these pumpkin stems drawn correctly; a green marker clenched in your hand. Your knuckles are white with the tension you are holding in your fingers. It’s around eight in the god damn morning, and you have been awake since around three a.m.

You don’t even hear the bell ring, nor do you hear the click-clacking of a cane on the tiled floors, you only hear an awkward clearing of the throat, to which you spin around, about to throw the marker at the customer, but stopping when you realize what you’re doing.

The customer smiles awkwardly at you, and you recognize instantly that between his glasses and cane, he is most definitely blind. You almost feel silly, until you remember everything, and you wish that there was more moments where you think you’re silly for being paranoid.

And there’s something else, too. You look at this man for a few moments, before realizing that he is so god damn hot. Which, is weird, because you have not felt anything for any man or woman in years, too busy focusing on other things, too busy thinking about everything that’s happened. But god, the stubble tracing his face, the way his dark hair falls, and the way his hand wraps around his cane..

But what gets you really is his lips. Maybe you’re staring, maybe you don’t care. But his lips are this pretty pink, and you find yourself getting lost in the nicest daydream you’ve had in a very long time..

And then, you snap out of that fantasy to remind yourself that you are working and don’t even know his name.

“Hi, sorry,” You cough awkwardly, “Was just focused,” You tell him, approaching the counter. You wipe your sweaty hands on your apron, before putting on your best ‘I’m a friendly bakery worker who just wants to sell you pastries, also tip me please!’ smile on. “What can I get you?” You ask.

“Do you guys have apple turnovers?” It is the first time this fall that is under 65 degrees, so you understand that there is some cravings for autumn snacks.

“Yeah, yeah,” You move towards the case to get some, “Just the one?”

“Three, actually. For the office.” He hums.

“Some big office,” Your voice is a sarcastic mumble, not really for the an to hear but he chuckles at it, and you almost think it’s weird that he an hear you but your brain tells you not to judge, since there is a whole lot the handsome stranger could judge you for.

“We’re a small business. Very friendly, very personable.”

You cannot help yourself, and you find yourself asking, “What sort of business are you in?” What the handsome stranger does not know is that you are insatiably angry at yourself for asking that because you had pretty much promised yourself that you were never going to have any sort of relationship—it wouldn’t be fair to them, it wouldn’t be fair to you. And as previously established, that wasn’t a problem, because you weren’t really attracted to anyone before this handsome stranger waltzed on into the bakery.

“I’m a lawyer.” He smiles. A lawyer.

“Well, Mr. Lawyer, your total is 10.75.” He pulls out a twenty and when you hand him change, he asks, “Which one is the five?” and you wordlessly pull out the five from the stack you handed him, before he puts the rest of the change in his wallet, dropping a five and a small card into your tip jar. “You have a good day now.” He hums, before making his way out of the bakery.

You watch intently, maybe a little too intently, and you hear the voice of your best friend from your teenage years in your head saying, ‘You hate to see him go, but you love to watch him leave.’ And a small smile finds its way to your face.

Then, you notice the card he dropped in the jar before fishing it out. On the front, it reads,

‘Matthew M. Murdock, Attorney at Law.’ On the back, you read,

‘Nelson, Murdock & Page, Attorneys at Law,

Hell’s Kitchen’

Accompanied by this is a phone number and an address.

You pocket the card, and before you know it, costumers are flooding in, and you ease into the day, forgetting about the handsome stranger until you leave the bakery at around six o’clock that night. You finish cleaning up from the day before letting the woman who works to prep for the next day. Then you leave, heading home to the too quiet, too small apartment.

You don’t have much in your apartment. You sleep with a gun under your pillow and you have a cheap TV on your dresser. You spend most of your time catching up on books or movies. You make yourself box mac and cheese before eating it right out of the pot, sitting on your kitchen floor.

As you cook the mac and cheese, you say his name over and over again, letting it sit on your tongue and escape your lips, thinking about him intently. You glance at your watch and decide that maybe it’s early enough that he might still be at his office.

You fish your tiny flip phone out of your pocket, dialing the number on the card and waiting. You’re holding your breath as the phone rings. A thought runs through your brain that maybe he gave you a wrong number and then your brain immediately reminds you that no man is ever going to give you his card, printed out, just to fuck with you.

“Nelson, Murdock & Page, how can I help you?” A voice asks, and you blink, hesitating for a minute.

“Uh, I’m looking for Matthew.” You say, and there’s some light shuffling, and again, this regret shoots over you until you hear a very smooth, very familiar voice,

“Hey,” His voice is like honey and you long to hear it clearer—The first time you’ve desired a better phone. “I was hoping you’d call.”

“Yeah, well, Maybe I just like the sound of your voice.”

“You know usually, that’s my line.”

“Wait, that works on people?” You hear his laugh on the other side of the phone and a shiver runs down your spine as you itch to make him laugh more.

“Telling people they’re beautiful doesn’t hit the same when you’re blind.”

“I guess not..” There’s a silence on his end of the phone, before he says,

“I never got your name.” For a moment, you consider giving him a fake name, but you find yourself giving him your name, the one that your parents gave you all those years ago. It’s foreign on your lips, a rare gem that you do not often give out. He repeats it and you swear you could almost die right then and there. “What are you doing tonight?”

You’re taken back by his forwardness, not anticipating that maybe this handsome stranger, Matthew, wants to be around you just as bad as you want to be around him. And then you look around at your dingy apartment, with your boxy TV, the gun under your pillow, and you, sitting on the floor of your kitchen, having just finished eating box mac and cheese with a wooden spoon that just for a second tastes like the one your mother used to cook with, the one you’d get tastes of sauces, soups, anything you could get your hands on.

And then you remember everything that happened after those days sneaking tastes of your mom’s cooking and you feel guilty for pursuing handsome Matthew, because he has no idea what he is getting into.

“Just finished dinner. Was planning on just relaxing.” Reading until around midnight and then getting an hour or two of sleep.

“Well, how about we go do something?” You detect a bit of hopefulness in his voice. You find yourself asking before you can stop yourself,

“Like, like a date?” And he laughs again.

“Yes, like a date.”

“I don’t know,” You start, “Usually I have to ask my father’s permission before I go out on the town with a boy.” You want to slap your hand over your mouth because you sound your age. Oh god.

“Really?”

“..No.” You hope he finds your weird, totally not a cover up, joke funny. And he laughs again, telling you,

“You’re funny.”

Yeah, really fucking hilarious.

“So, a date?”

“A date.” You consider this for a moment. A date might lead somewhere real. Somewhere dangerous. Somewhere you haven’t been in.. years. Years might be an understatement. Your heart thuds against your chest, and you find yourself full of that nostalgic thing you call desire.

“What would we do?”

“Anything you want.” He tells you.

“Anything? That’s dangerous.” Because this whole thing is dangerous, you want to tell him, maybe you should mention the whole age thing, the whole assassin thing, the whole brainwashing thing, the whole thing.

“Yeah? What dangerous things do you have in mind, doll?” You have to hold the phone away from your ear to breathe, because it feels like someone just took the winds out of your sails. Suddenly it is 1940 something and a boy is flirting with you, and you have to act like a lady in hopes that he will treat you right.

Odd thing to think about today, but you’re an odd person.

“What about ice cream and a bookstore?” You ask, and for a moment you want to hit yourself for not suggesting something cool like a club or something and then you realize that you have no idea what counts as a cool date in this day and age.

Did you know when you were a teenager and had the world at your fingertips, eighty (give or take) years ago?

But to your surprise, handsome Matthew just responds,

“That sounds nice. Do you want me to pick you up at your apartment?”

The idea of handsome Matthew being at your tiny apartment that is not suitable for a date makes your heart race.

“I’ll meet you at the ice cream place in an hour. You know the one near the bakery?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

“Yeah. See you.” And when you hang up, you realize just what has happened. For the first time since 1944, You have landed yourself a date with a handsome man that is genuinely interested in you and in your infinite wisdom decided that ice cream and books were the best way to impress him.. Books.. Blind man.

You lightly bang your head against the counter behind you, muttering to yourself how stupid that was. But you an only dwell on it for a moment before you are standing up and making your way over to your room to get ready.

You’re still in your work uniform. And you look like an idiot. So, you clean yourself up and pull on something presentable, something comfortable. There is no confusion as to the nature of this meet up, you two are going on a date and you asked a blind man to go to a bookstore. You feel like an asshole. And you’re aware that you’re putting emphasis on that, but still!

You go through outfits and outfits, trying to figure out what an appropriate outfit is for this first date. You end up in something casual, and you hope you’re not underdressed. Honestly, you know you’re making a fuss over something as standard as a date, but you are genuinely desperate to have this go well.

You finally decide on an outfit and make your way out the door, grabbing your jacket and stepping out of the apartment. You stop outside of your door before turning around and going back into your room to change your top.

But eventually, you do get to the ice cream place Matt and you had discussed on the phone. And there he is, in all his glory, wearing the same outfit he wore when you saw him in the bakery that morning, only, without his tie, and he looks more disheveled. Somehow it’s more charming to see him like this, more exhilarating to imagine a life with such a low stakes man (You’ll look back on this thought later and laugh)

“Hi,” You greet, and Matt smiles in your direction.

“Hi.” He hums, and again, you feel nervous! So, before he can say much else, you blurt out,

“So, This is my first date in a while.. So. Sorry about that.” You say awkwardly.

“A while?” He asks, tilting his head like a curious dog. You’re struck by the fact that he is around 70 years younger than you. “Like, a few months?”

A beat.

Handsome Matthew is much busier than you are, it seems.

“More like a couple of years.” And by ‘a couple’ you mean eighty some odd years, but Matt doesn’t need to know all of that right now. But he just hums and nods, before answering,

“That’s alright, I’ll be gentle.” Your face flushes, and with a nervous laugh, you ask,

“You mean we’ll take it slow?”

“Sure. Whatever. We’ll figure out the details of it all later.” His hand finds yours, and before you can protest he pulls you into the ice cream shop. Handsome Matthew orders chocolate chip cookie dough because he is perfect in every way, and you order..

“Butter pecan, please.” You get odd glances from Matthew and the seventeen year old minimum wage worker behind the counter, but neither of them say anything. You manage to beat Matthew to paying for the ice cream, and as you walk, he asks,

“Butter pecan? Really?” And you roll your eyes. Young people today, always judging.

“You’re lucky they didn’t have butterscotch, that’s my real favorite.” You respond, before taking a lick of the ice cream. Your handsome date, gives you another bizarre look.

“Okay, what’s your third favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Mm..” You take a few minutes to think about it, before deciding on your answer. “A tie between pistachio and coffee.” And at your answer, Matt laughs at you. You let out an offended gasp, although you’re not being serious, before asking, “what’s so horrible about that?”

“You have the ice cream preferences of an eighty year old,” He laughs and you laugh too, because oh, if only he knew.

“Sorry, my pallet is straight from the 40’s.” It’s a joke. That’s a joke. Not at all based in facts or actuality. You continue working through eating your ice cream and talking to your handsome date. “So, does the handsome lawyer have any family I should know about?”

“You think I’m handsome?” He grins, and your face flushes.

“Answer the question.”

“No siblings. My dad died when I was young and It’s only recently that I’ve been talking to my mother.” Interesting, you think, and then this dawning realization happens where you realize that the next thing out of his mouth will be the inevitable question, “How about your family?”

You consider lying but you decide against it. If this is going to lead anywhere good, you don’t want to base it off lies.

“Not much to say. I’m the sole survivor.” You shrug, keeping it vague. He frowns a bit before squeezing your hand.

“A couple of orphans, huh?”

You squeeze his back.

“Seems like it.”

You kind of aren’t over the death of your parents and your siblings and quite literally everyone you knew as a teenager and young adult—You’re not over so many fucking things that if you went through it all, you’d probably keep poor Handsome Matthew up all night.

But instead of talking about that, Matt finds himself walking with you to the bookstore. You hold the door open for him and begin to wander. You quickly move past the books on World War II, as if faced with an ex you want nothing to do with them.

You begin to look at the romance books, scrunching your nose at how cheesy and surface level so many of these young adult novels are. But then you remind yourself that you are a hundred years old. But you look like you’re in your late twenties, early thirties. As you’re looking at the books, Matthew makes his way to the aisle next to yours, and talks to you through the stacks.

“So, what’s your favorite book?”

“That’s like asking a mother her favorite child.” You answer quickly, and you hear him laugh. Your face flushes.

“Try for me.”

“Uh, I really love Great Gatsby. I’m kind of fascinated with the zombie genre, too, it’s sort of new and interesting, and uh, oh, I read this Neil Gaiman novel, uh, Stardust? I really liked that.” You confess. Matt listens as you fumble through novels, both of you making your way towards the end of the aisle.

“And movies?”

“Why is everything about me? I didn’t hear your favorite novel.”

“The Outsiders.” He responds, and you make a mental note to try and find it in the bookstore. “So, movies?”

You’ve had autonomy for around three years now, so.. Your movie knowledge has been kind of stunted, so you wrack your brain to try and come up with something impressive.

“I really like the Indiana Jones series, uh, oh, The Matrix, and..” You ponder your brain. “Oh! And King Kong!” You saw that one in the theatres for your thirteenth birthday.

“Like, the one that came out in 2017?” He asks, and again, you consider lying, because you actually have seen that one because when you looked up ‘King Kong’ it came out, and it really blew your mind how far CGI had come.

“No, the one that came out in ’33.” As if it is the most normal thing in the entire world.

“One of your favorite movies is one from 1933?” And the old woman in you wants to insist that you loved the decades you grew up in, and that seeing King Kong in the theatres was a marvelous thing because you could barely afford rent. And then you remember you shouldn’t reveal your history with the Great Depression to a man you’re on your first date with.

“Yup.” You assert, and ask, “You?”

“Star Wars, any of them, and the Princess Bride.” Again, you make a note to add it to your list.

“Interesting.” You hum, and you find The Outsiders, wanting to read it, to consume it, to consume him, and every thought he has. The two of you meet at the end of the aisle, too close to be platonic as his hands come to find your arms, and you shudder at the affection.

“Touch starved, huh?” He grins. You flush and roll your eyes.

“You’re so mean.” You huff, and he laughs. His hand moves up your arms and cups your jaw, enjoying the feeling of your warm cheeks.

“Well, you’re odd.”

“Odd?”

“Everything about you. Your movie tastes, your jokes, your ice cream flavors.” He hums, with a soft shrug. “It’s not a bad thing, I’m just.. Trying to figure you out.”

“You’d be the first to accomplish such a feat.”

He laughs at that, and he’s so beautiful.. That you cannot help yourself when you lean up and gently press a soft kiss to those beautiful pretty pink lips that had caught your attention that morning. He kisses you back, without hesitation.

You feel at peace for the first time in years, as if everything you had gone through, every moment of torture and pain, has been worth it because it leads you to this. To Handsome Matthew, who kisses you so tenderly that no matter how simple it is, you are left breathless and desperate for more. You lean into him, deepening the kiss, pushing him back a bit, his back pressed against the stacks. The book in your hands is crumpled, and eventually, Matthew pulls away, before pushing you back a bit.

“Easy,” He says breathlessly, and you need the reminder, because you try to catch your breath. Holy shit. “Easy, easy..” he repeats, his hands rubbing up and down your arms a bit. “I’ve got you, just breath.” He laughs, and you lean your forehead against your shoulder. Fuck.

“When can I see you again?” Is your only thought, and he chuckles gently.

“Whenever you want.” He promises, and you nod, before leaning up to kiss him again.

One day you’ll tell him everything. You’ll tell him all of the horrible things you’ve done and have had done to you, and you’ll tell him why the nightmares came, and why they won’t ever go away. One day, you’ll tell handsome Matthew why you sleep with a gun under your pillow and why you have no family and why you are so odd.

For now, you decide that you deserve a few nice things.

And when he kisses back, you realize that maybe he is just as infatuated with you as you are with him. Maybe. Maybe he is full of secrets and his own horrors that plague him while he sleeps, and maybe that’s the unspoken reason you are so deeply fascinated with one another.

Maybe.

Maybe you’ve spent the past ninety years going from fight to fight, to nightmare to nightmare. Maybe you’re owed some time in the sun with Handsome Matthew.

Maybe.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil fic #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock fic #daredevil #matt murdock fluff #winter soldier!reader #tortured reader #super soldier reader #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil fluff #daredevil x reader #netflix daredevil #matt murdock fanfic

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carpkoinobori · 1 year ago

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[❣︎] casual — huh yunjin x reader

[𖤐] 0.5/3 [next] [please be aware this is all fiction! none of this is real and idols behavior is not accurately represented.]

song(s): casual - chappel roan | runaway runaway - mars argo | HOT TO GO - chappel roan |

summary: you and your best friend made it to produce 48 together— what led up to the fallout? who is it you’re singing about? what do you do when the stress boils over?

pairing(s): trainee!huh yunjin x trainee!fem!reader

tags: angst, imagined unrequited love, eventual happy ending

wc: 1.1k

cw: implied sexual content, internalized homophobia, period typical homophobia, mentions of dieting.

ex: 135 notes.. thank you all so much!! i didn’t expect anyone to really like it. i hope you enjoy this backstory :-)

also, this is an au, not following real events— y/n and yunjin are 18 and 19 in produce48, yunjin debuts three years later at 22, and y/n at 21.

(not beta read 😭)

you didn’t expect a survival show to be so stressful- now, you were well aware how difficult it’d be, you knew you would have to practice, and sing, and dance, and diet- but, you didn’t expect the constant stress of the possibility of being eliminated every day.

but, you chose this, right? all for her, all for your sun.

“y/n! Come on, let’s practice this final part, yeah? I think I figured out the footwork-“ yunjin mumbled, rambling about something or other. you were distracted by her face, she was soo pretty-

“y/n, are you even listening to me?” she said, grinning. your face turned a pretty shade of red, and you spluttered. “What? No, no! I was totally paying attention, I swear— something about.. footwork?” You guessed, desperately.

“it’s fine, just, come here- I’ll teach you,” she smiled, and it took all you had to not just fall right there.

after one particularly harsh judge had humiliated yunjin, she slammed the door of the room you shared with about two other contestants. they weren’t there, at the moment.

yunjin angrily began to rummage through her things, and you sat up. “jen? What’s wrong? I mean, I know what the judge said was mean but- you know that’s not true, right?” you began, getting up and starting to walk over to her before she whipped her head around, glaring at you.

“It IS fucking true, y/n, just because they always let you fuck up ‘cause the fans love you doesn’t mean you’re suddenly qualified to give advice-” she spat, standing up from her spot on the floor, her fists clenched as she jabbed her finger into your chest harshly. “You probably think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? I bet-” you cut her off, cupping her face in your hands. “jen- jen, I don’t think that, and you do not get to talk to me like that just because you’re mad,” you began, words steady and stern, and when you watched your best friends eyes glaze over, a bit, felt her gaze flicker down to your lips, felt your face flush and felt her lean in—

well, it was all you could do to tug her closer, kissing her, tasting the stupid citrus lip balm she’s used for years, that you’ve thought about every single day of your waking life—

and if someone asked, was it all worth it? the pain, the exhaustion, the work, just for this?

“well,” you’d reply, “oranges were always my favorite fruit.”

you cupped her face with one hand, threading your fingers in her hair with the other, pushing her onto your bed, and it was all teeth, you biting her lip, you moving your hands down, her speaking incoherently.

“please,” she’d breathe out, the words just whispers on the wind. and you’d always been the one under her mercy, begging her to love you- and now here she was, begging for you to touch her. you’d always dreamed of touching the sun. you’d always think of Icarus, in these moments. your wings were yet to melt from the heat and warmth, though, so you figured it was fine.

and, well, the fall would hurt, but it was all you could do, to fall into eachother, again, and again.

waking up was always worse. your dorm mates still weren’t back, they had a penchant to pass out in the practice room. you kinda thanked them, for that.

sometimes you’d wake up in the middle of the night, just so you could see her sleeping. just so you could see her before she would leave in the morning.

yeah, you lived together, but come 8 in the morning, she’d be gone. except for the first time. except for before you fell asleep.

“..y/n?” she asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

“mhm?” you hummed, half asleep in your bed.

“this didn’t mean anything, right? im not mad at you, im sorry. i was just stressed, and frustrated- and- we can still be friends, right? it won’t change?” she whispered, and it was the only time you’ve ever seen her this nervous around you. the first time she had really been vulnerable since you both got on this stupid show.

what changed? was it the having to compete against each other? yeah. it was probably that.

“yeah,” you mumbled, feeling your chest constrict, your heart fracture, tears stinging your eyes, and you were so glad she couldn’t see your face. “yeah, jen- it’s casual. we’re still best friends,” you reassured, giving a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. why were you smiling, anyway? she couldn’t see you. she’s never seen you. “okay, y/n. good night. i love you,” she mumbled, turning to the wall.

“goodnight, jen. i love you,” you whispered, turning your back to her, and staring at the empty bed across the room. wasn’t it poetic that she was in your bed, and you’d never be in hers? you laughed inwardly, no humor in it. you were so, so bitter.

this stupid game kept up, you kept giving in to it, and you kept losing- atleast it gave you writing material, right?

“y/n,” your dorm mate- chaewon, you think? “you should stop,” she murmured. you stared at her through tired eyes. “stop what?” you said, playing dumb. “you know. I think- I think it’s.. it’s not good for you,” she mumbled, uncomfortable. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine,” you assured, giving a well-practiced smile. “Thanks for caring,” you nodded, slipping out of the chair you’ve been sitting in for an hour and a half— instead of sleeping, you’d either be with your “best friend”, or writing about her- god, you were such a lovesick fool. Crumpled paper took up the majority of your desk, and you left it all splayed out, in front of Chaewon, slipping away to go practice till you dropped. The trainee life, you’d think.

“you said/ we’re not together/so now when we kiss/ I have anger issues,”

chaewon stared at the paper, vaguely. she couldn’t read english, obviously, and was half tempted to put it in a translator, but she just turned around, leaving the room as well to go practice.

“and I try to be the chill girl/that holds her tongue and gives you space/i try to be the chill girl/but honestly/im not,”

and then she got eliminated. and you broke down. and you lived in that practice room. and your roommates would stare at you in pity, and you hated it, you hated being something pitiable.

you hated loving your best friend. your fall hurt like hell, your stupid wax wings broke. you didn’t fall into her, no— you fell into the sea, cold, salty, rough— you hated the cold. but maybe you’d get used to it.

hundreds of texts unsent:

“jen, I love you,” [delete]

“jen, I miss you,” [delete]

“jen, did you love me? do you miss me?” [delete]

“I’m so sorry,” [sent]

“are you okay?” [sent]

“will it be okay?” [delete]

“will you catch me?” [delete]

“why won’t you talk to me?” [sent]

[reply] “I need some space,”

[reply] “I can’t take the reminder,”

“okay, I’m sorry. I love you,” [sent]

[you can not reply to this conversation. message unable to send]

and nearly 7000 miles away, there is a girl crying in New York City. because she loves her best friend. and her best friend said she didn’t mean it.

and nearly 7000 miles back, there is a girl crying in Seoul, because she loves her best friend. and her best friend (will) not love her back.

hi! backstory to good luck babe. i hope you all enjoy this, I wasn’t expecting so many notes on the last post… thank you all for reading! please feel free to send anons or reqs or just tell me about your day.. hope your day is great! :3

#le sserafim x reader #le sserafim x fem reader #le sserafim imagines #le sserafim #huh yunjin x fem reader #huh yunjin x reader #huh yunjin #yunjin x reader #yunjin x fem!reader #f!reader #y/n and yunjin kinda toxic #it’s ok though #carps masterlist #carps works

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madpanda75 · 1 month ago

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To Build a Home Chapter Two

Ok, here we go again! Thank you so much for all the love and comments on this series. If anyone wants to be tagged, just let me know! You'll find some "easter eggs" in this chapter as well! Also who doesn't want to fall asleep in Joel's arms?!

Hope you all enjoy reading about these two crazy kids cause I love writing them!

Content Warning: 18+, NSFW, descriptions of domestic abuse, violence, reference of rape, PTSD-The severe scenarios are flashbacks in this chapter and italicized so you may skip those portions if they are triggering.

Tags: Angst, Slow Burn, Secret Pining, Switched POVs

Word Count: 5037

“Turn it up! This is the best part!” You shouted over Whitney Houston’s voice. It was Wednesday night before your dinner with Maria and Tommy. You had recruited Dina and Ellie to help you in the kitchen. Well, more like Dina had strong-armed Ellie into coming along.

Dina slid over to the cassette player and cranked up the volume. She grabbed a spoon from the counter and used it as a makeshift microphone, crooning along to the song. “You were making a fool of me, oh!”

The techno beat began to thump creating a hypnotic beat.“Ellie, c’mon!” You bumped her with your hip. “Humor your roomie and dance with me”

“I’d rather guzzle down this burnt shit Joel calls coffee.” Ellie grimaced while placing the coffee-laden ladyfingers in the casserole dish.

Dina grabbed her hands. “Get that stick out of your ass and dance!”

You jumped up and down to the beat, laughing and shaking your head, letting your hair whip around. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard at Dina and Ellie’s antics. It was one of the first times in months you let yourself go. You felt free.

The music switched to something softer, a smooth romantic ballad, the type of song your mom would joke about and say is “baby-making” music.

Dina switched gears and began to slow dance with Ellie while you took over the cooking. She made a face and peered over your shoulder while you put the finishing touches on your dessert.“What are we making again?”

“Tiramisu,” you replied before looking at the array of ingredients on the counter. “Well my post-apocalyptic version of tiramisu. I had to improvise a little, but it tastes like the real deal.”

Ellie dipped her finger in the makeshift mascarpone cream you created and took a taste.“ It’s really good. Where’d you learn how to make this?”

“Back in DC. It was always a crowd-pleaser.” A crowd-pleaser. In reality, since your husband was the head of Fedra, you were expected to host dinner parties for his squad and any other leadership—typically former senators, representatives, judges, and their staff who still ruled over the city. You remembered the last time you served this dish. It was a sweltering humid July evening and you were sweating in a long sleeved dress that went down to your ankles to cover the bruises and bite marks your husband had given you earlier. Your body could still feel his teeth sinking into your flesh.

“DC?” Dina asked. “As in Washington DC?”

Your heart started to race and you quickly turned to put the dish in the fridge.“Yes, that’s where I’m originally from.” You paused ever so slightly, before placing the happy mask back on your face. “Anyways, dinner is at 7 tomorrow. You coming, Dina?”

“Yeah, of course! Do you need help cleaning up?”

“Nah, I got it. You girls go on and have fun.” Ellie didn’t need to be told twice. She grabbed Dina’s hand and they were both out the door.

Your hope was that cleaning would serve as a distraction, but the time alone in the kitchen caused your flashbacks to be at the forefront of your mind.

“There now isn’t this better,” Henry purred, lovingly tracing the bite mark on your back shoulder blade as he zipped up your dress.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror as you put on your earrings. “It has to be 100 degrees outside. People will wonder why I’m wearing this long sleeved dress.”

“I don’t want anyone to think I own damaged goods.” Henry turned you towards him, gently cupped your face and kissed you. “Besides, maybe this will teach you not to talk to anyone without my permission.”

You glanced out the kitchen window while washing a bowl and nearly screamed, a vision of Henry standing outside, bloody and smiling. Your ghosts were restless. It would be another long night. A night filled with nightmares, reliving nothing but the terror and torture you were subjected to. Waking up in a cold sweat with tears streaming down your face.

Overburdened with fear, anxiety, sheer exhaustion, your body slumped to the floor. You honestly didn’t know how much more of this you could take. How much longer could you keep living like this? And that was what scared you the most.

Not wanting to wake up the whole house with your screams, you opted to read instead. Unfortunately this was a book you had read multiple times and it was starting to get stale. ‘I need to see if this place has a library,’ was the last thought in your head before you closed your eyes.

You woke with a jolt, one of the pages of the book stuck to your cheek, and checked the clock. It was already 11am. Thank goodness you had a later shift that day at the stables. After getting dressed and running your fingers through your hair, you left your room. Just as you were about to make your way downstairs, you came to a halt in front of Joel’s room.

“Hello? Anyone there?” you tentatively called out only to be met with silence. After looking around and peering over the bannister to confirm that no one was around, you slowly opened the bedroom door.

With the grace of a dancer, you tiptoed across the hardwood floor, already knowing where all the squeaks and creaks were. Walking up to his desk, you gazed at the figurines he had carved, the guitars on the wall, his tools strewn among wood shavings.

There was a part of you that felt guilty being this nosy and obviously you were crossing some serious lines when it came to privacy, but there was this inexplicable pull you had towards Joel. A curiosity that was piqued that night he bandaged your thumb.

You closed your eyes, and allowed yourself to become enveloped in the spicy scent of cedar and leather, envisioning Joel quietly working at his desk with his chisel, his hands calloused and rough yet surprisingly gentle. You could remember how his fingers felt when they traced the scar on your palm.

Your palm. Your scar. Your violent husband. The same violent husband you murdered in cold blood. What the fuck were you doing! Now was not the time to be falling for your roommate. A roommate that up until a week ago was barely tolerating your very existence. You quickly snapped back to reality and fled the room.

Working with the horses was your favorite duty. It made you feel less isolated in town. There was no fear of judgement with the animals, just peace, self-awareness, and understanding. It was as if there was a mutual understanding of your needs, a calming presence amid the chaos.

“Hey Shimmer,” you softly whispered and stroked the horse’s muzzle. “I have a treat for you.” You reached into your back pocket for a carrot when, Japan, Dina’s horse, nuzzled your backside, trying to get to the vegetable first. You threw your head back and laughed. “Japan! Relax, I didn’t forget about you.”

While the horses crunched away, you got to work saddling them up for afternoon patrols when you heard a familiar Texan twang. “Hey, how are the horses doing?”

“They’re great.” It wasn’t usual for Joel to stop by if he wasn’t on duty and suddenly you were scared that he may have discovered you were in his bedroom this morning. “I was just going to brush your horse if that’s what you came for.”

“Oh no, that’s not it.” Joel shook his head and walked into the stall. “I wanted to let you know that your first patrol is tomorrow morning. You and I will be partnered so I can show ya’ the ropes.”

“Ok sounds good.” You went back to feeding the horses, until you noticed him still standing there. “Is there something else?”

“Yeah, actually there is.” Joel cleared his throat. “I meant to…uh…to give this to you earlier, but you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you…so…. here.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a package wrapped in a small rectangular piece of cloth.

Unwrapping the piece of cloth revealed a delicate wooden picture frame. You immediately recognized the warm and spicy cedar smell from the wood and realized that was the project Joel was working on last night at his desk.

“I noticed that picture of yours didn’t have a frame, so I figured I’d make you one.”

A lump formed in your throat as you lovingly traced the edges of the frames. “It’s beautiful,” you managed to squeak out, attempting to maintain your composure.

Joel blushed. “It’s not a big deal. I had the time and the extra wood.”

You hugged the frame to your chest. “Thank you. This means more to me than you know.” As if your heart were in control of your body, you took a step closer, wanting to reach out and embrace the man who gave you this sentimental gift.

In response to your movement, Joel took a tentative step closer, both of you inching towards each other until you were toe to toe. You gazed up at him and saw the earnestness in his soulful big brown eyes. “Joel,” you mouthed.

“Anyone in here?” A voice called out causing you both to jump apart like someone had just detonated a bomb. Cat poked her head into the stall. “Oh hey you two! Ellie said I could borrow Shimmer for the day. Is she ready to go?”

“Yeah, of course.” You handed her Shimmer’s reins.

“Thanks!” Sensing the tension, Cat glanced between you and Joel. “Everything ok? Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope! Not at all! I was just gonna go brush Old Beardy, ” you said and practically ran out of the stall.

“And I was just headin’ back to work,” Joel mumbled and left just as quickly.

Cat shook her head in confusion. “Weirdos.”

That evening’s dinner became a potluck with everyone contributing some type of dish or drink. It was a nice change of pace compared to the previous dinner events you hosted where you would be prepping a menu and cooking days in advance. Dina even brought some wine she had found while out with Cat.

The conversation along with the wine flowed naturally around the table. Laughter filled the room while Tommy regaled everyone with antics from his and Joel’s past. In spite of his teasing, it was obvious how much Tommy admired his older brother. Not that that was much of a surprise to you, having experienced his quiet kindness and generosity firsthand. Your grandmother had an expression for this kind of person—a prickly pear—tough and thorny on the outside but soft and sweet on the inside.

“Damn Maria! This is delicious,” Ellie said, shoveling more pasta in her mouth.

Maria smiled. “Well it's your roomie’s recipe. She even showed me how to make homemade pasta.”

You felt your cheeks flush under the praise. “Pasta’s a lot easier to make than people think.”

“Everyone! Make sure you save room for dessert. Ellie and I helped make it,” Dina announced.

Ellie finished her plate and leaned back in her chair, placing her hands on her now satiated stomach.“So how was patrol? I heard you guys found some new folks.”

Tommy nodded while finishing off the last of his wine. “We found a few survivors that came from Washington DC. Apparently the city fell several months ago when their head of Fedra was killed. Things got really ugly. There was a rebellion. A lot of folks died.”

All of the air escaped from your lungs and you struggled to breathe. It was like you were underwater with pressure building in your ear drums. The conversation sounded fuzzy. You could barely comprehend what they were saying.

“Yeah, I heard on the radio today.” Maria shook her head in disgust. “The DC Fedra were monsters. The way they raped, tortured, and murdered their civilians. They made Kansas City look like a playground.”

The room was getting smaller and smaller, but you couldn’t crumble in on yourself now. Not here. Not in front of everyone. ‘Breathe…just breathe,’ you silently reminded yourself.

“You’re from the DC QZ, right?” Dina asked.

“Y-y-yes, that’s where I’m from,” you whispered.

The sound of silverware clinking against plates came to a halt. Your admission shifted the atmosphere at the table.

“I’m so sorry. I– I– didn’t know,” Dina said.

“It’s ok,” you replied before turning to Maria. “And you’re wrong, Maria. The DC Fedra weren’t monsters. They were much worse.”

“Did bad things happen to you?” Benji asked.

“Benji!” Maria scolded. “We don’t ask people those types of questions.”

You looked up at the little boy, too young to know the terror you and others like you had endured. Sometimes a lie really was better than a truth. With a gentle smile you replied, “No.”

Benji then hopped off his chair and went over to you, perching himself on your lap. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the bad guys.” He wrapped his arms around you, leaving you stunned for a moment before you embraced the little boy back.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” You rested your cheek against the top of his head and allowed yourself this small comfort.

After dinner, it was unanimous that the men clean up after dinner, except for Benji, who was busy keeping the ladies and you occupied with his antics.

“Lookin’ good in that apron, Joel!” Ellie teased while chasing Benji.

Joel rolled his eyes at her quip before glancing over at you. He noticed how visibly shaken you were when the conversation shifted to the DC QZ. Immediately recognizing that far off look in your eye.

Once again an anger began to roil beneath him like when he saw the scar on your palm. It was rage mixed with something else—this deep desire to take care of you, to protect you, to never let anyone harm you ever again.

“Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember when you got back from combat and ya’ told me one time about the nightmares you would get?”

“Of course. Hell man, I still get them and not just about Desert Storm. I dream about what I did when I was with the Fireflies. The things I’ve seen. The things I’ve done. I even dream about Sarah.”

A hushed silence fell over the brothers. Both of them remembering that horrific night when their world fell apart at the seams, and all that was innocent and good in their lives was forever lost.

Even after all these years, there were nights when Joel dreamt about Sarah how he could never save her, feeling the blood seep through his fingers, her lifeless body in his arms. He had no idea Tommy dreamt about that night.

“So what do you do when you wake up with one of those dreams?”

“Honestly, Maria has been the biggest help for me.” Tommy dried his hands and rested his hip against the counter. “When I have a bad night. She’ll comfort me, hold me until I get through it. I didn’t want to talk about it at first, but she was patient. When I was ready, she was there. I’d be lost without her.” He furrowed his brow in confusion. “Why do you ask?”

Joel shrugged. “No reason.” He focused on putting the dried plates away before finally caving in, knowing he couldn’t fool Tommy. “Actually there’s a reason.”

“Lemme guess. This about your roomie.”

Joel leaned back and rested his head against the cupboard door, huffing out a sigh. “The thing is I didn’t know she was from DC. She gets nightmares and screams in her sleep. Sometimes just walking past her will make her jump a mile high. I wanna help her..but everytime I try she runs away.”

“I can’t imagine the things that have happened to her. But I know one thing. She’s tough to have made it this far by herself. All I can say is be patient with her.” Tommy patted his brother on the back. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to help her, Joel. Just like you’ve helped all of us.”

Later on that evening once everyone was ushered out, Joel closed the door before turning towards you busy picking up toy planes and legos. “Listen, about tonight. If there comes…if you ever want or need to…” A frustrated sigh blew past his lips as he struggled to get the words out. “Damn, I’m not good at this.”

“You’re doing alright so far,” you replied. “I’m just not ready to talk about it.”

“Well when ya’ are, I’m here.”

You nodded and walked past him, up the stairs. “Thanks, Uncle Grumpy.”

Joel snorted and shook his head. “G’night to you too.”

It was dark and snowy when you went on patrol the next morning. Joel hadn’t stopped talking since you left Jackson, rambling on about basic instruction and guidance on what to look out for in the woods, how to be a proper backup to your partner.

You tried to listen, but were more focused on your horse, Desdemona, and wanting to make sure she was ready for the long trek. Besides it certainly wasn’t like you didn’t have the experience of being out in the wilderness, most of what Joel was saying you already knew. He stopped not too far from town where a broken fence was lined with various targets like bottles and flour sacks.

“So like I said earlier, today’s going to be an easy run. We’ll do a simple trail, go over the basics. I thought we could start with some target practice.”

Without a word, you hopped off Desdemona and pulled out your gun, careful not to slip on a shell. Joel was still explaining about how to properly aim and shoot a gun. “Remember to squeeze the trigger like you love it. Gentle. Sl–”

The loud bang of your gun cut him off as you hit each of the targets one right after the other. Once all the targets were shot, you reached into your pocket and took out a large coin that your father had given you. Flipping it up high in the air, you pointed your gun up and shot the coin right in the middle as it made its way down into your open palm and presented it to a stunned Joel.

“I ran away from a city that was a literal hell on earth and trekked 2000 miles across the country by myself where I faced raiders, slavers, and infected. And believe me when I say the infected were the easy part of it. I know how to work a trail. I know how to use a gun and I don’t like it when people underestimate me. Just because I like to cook, bake, and take care of animals doesn’t mean I don’t know how to defend myself or others. Ok?”

Another nod from Joel confirmed he heard you.

“Good,” you said with finality. “So does this mean we can do a more difficult trail?”

Crossing his arms, Joel eyed you up but you held your ground. “We’ll see,” he eventually said.

“I can work with that,” you replied and made your way back to your horse, putting your gun in your back pocket.

“Wait.” Joel caught up to you and grabbed your pack. “Put your gun in here instead. You’ll shoot your damn ass off.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

Joel caved, taking you on a little more difficult trail. It was odd at first, having been used to being alone for so long, but the pair of you did make a good team. You could see the benefit of having someone there that had your back. Someone that you were supposed to rely on and trust. The last time you had that was with your sister.

As the day progressed, the soft morning snow transformed into a blizzard. The wind was whipping your cheeks and you could feel the cold through your layers of clothes. Hopefully Joel wouldn’t hear the clack of your teeth as they began to chatter. ‘Toughen up,’ you thought.

Just then Joel received a message on his radio. “Looks like we have to go back,” he shouted back to you.

Unable to speak because of the cold, you responded with a thumbs up and turned Desdemona around. On your way back, it was becoming difficult to see more than 3 feet in front of you with the snow clouding your vision.

Joel checked to make sure you were following him. If your face wasn’t frozen, you would have laughed at the way his eyebrows and scruffy mustache and beard had iced over. He looked just as frost-bitten as you were. At this rate, it would be late at night before you made it to Jackson.

“I got an idea,” Joel said, then sent a message over his radio. “This is Joel. Change of plans. We’re going to hunker down at the lodge until things settle down. I’ll keep my radio on if ya’ll need anything.”

“Copy that, Joel. Stay safe,” replied the person over the radio.

“C’mon. We’re almost there.” He tightened his hold on the reins and led Old Beardy up the mountain.

You dutifully followed, digging your heels into the stirrups and trying to keep up as best you could until stopping at a large stone lodge. Once the horses were settled, Joel set out to work, immediately knowing where the woodpile was stored and began making a fire in the fireplace, while you looked in your pack for food. Before long you both were warm in front of the fire with full stomachs.

While Joel was getting out his sleeping bag, you walked around the large room. The lodge really was beautiful with its vaulted ceiling, gleaming wood, large stone fireplace, and floor to ceiling window. The sun was just beginning to set—the deep orange, red, and purples reflected against the snow creating the most breathtaking view of the valley amid the mountains. Your initial thought was that this place was kinda romantic to hunker down in before quickly shaking that notion out of your head.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spied a golf bag with a full set of clubs. You went over to the bag and picked up a club. “Ever play?”

Joel scoffed. “Not exactly my kinda sport.”

You took the golf club by both hands and pretended to swing at a ball before returning the club to its bag. “Me either. I was more of a putt-putt girl back in my day.”

“So was my daughter,” Joel said with a soft laugh. “She would beg me to take her when she was little. Every damn weekend.” Then as if remembering where he was and who he was talking to, his face went stoic again.

Ellie had let it slip that she wasn’t Joel’s biological daughter. Before all this he had another daughter named Sarah, but she made you swear not to bring up the subject so you didn’t push anything with him.

“I’m gonna go look around,” you said.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“Don’t worry, Miller. I’ll be fine.”

Most of the essentials had been picked over in the rest of the lodge until you spied several books on a shelf in a back bedroom. Finally some new reading material. “Please don’t be moldy. Please don’t be moldy,” you whispered while opening a copy of Jane Eyre. You practically leapt with glee as the majority of the books on the shelves were in near perfect condition.

Although your arms were full, you still wanted to check the closet to see if there was anything else good. With the tip of your toe, you opened the door only to reveal a long white satin strapless gown. The books fell from your arms and goosebumps erupted over your skin. It looked exactly like your wedding dress.

“Hey!” You heard Joel call out. “Everything ok?”

“Be right there!” You grabbed the books and snatched the dress from off its hanger before bounding back into the main room, dropping your treasures to the floor. “Look what I found!”

Joel smirked and raised a brow. “Wow. Books and a dress for the senior prom.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ya know books can be crucial for survival. Extra insulation. Toilet paper. On my way to Jackson, I remember finding a copy of Mein Kampf in some asshole’s house. I definitely used that as toilet paper. I mean fuck Nazis, am I right?”

“Can’t argue with you there,” Joel said with a laugh. “Well that explains the book, but what about the dress.”

“The dress?” You promptly went to the fireplace and tossed the dress on top of the flames. “Kindling.” The flames roared in response to the layers of satin and crinoline.

Joel wrinkled his brow, watching you toast the dress.“We should try and get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

“You go ahead. I’m going to read for a bit.”

“Ya’ sure?”

“Yeah, this is one of my favorites.” You held up the copy of Jane Eyre. “I’m not even tired.” The yawn you suppressed told a different story.

“Mmmhmm.” Joel looked like he was about to argue but judging by the bags under his eyes, sleep would win. “Well g’night.”

“Night.” You tucked yourself into your sleeping bag and tried to read. Occasionally you would hear a pop from the fire and glance up, watching the white satin turn black as the fabric twisted in on itself until there was nothing but ash.

It was just a dress. A stupid white dress, but seeing it transported you to that fateful, terrifying day. And even though you pushed those thoughts away, it wasn’t until the fire was dead that you finally fell asleep.

Henry undid his tie, circling you like a shark in the water. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Where are they?”

Sweat beaded on your forehead. “I don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me.”

“You’re such a bad liar. Your sister wouldn’t dare leave without telling you where she was going.”

“Henry, I pro–”

He backslapped you across the face causing you to fall back on the bed, his ring cutting your lip and making it bleed.

“Where are they!” He shouted.

You wiped the blood off your lip with the back of your hand. “I swear I don’t know.”

Henry got quiet and nodded. “Fine. That’s fine. Tell you what.” He snapped his fingers and at his command two of his Fedra men appeared out of nowhere and held you down on the bed by your arms.

Immediately you started to panic and twist out of their grasp but they only tightened their hold. “Henry! What are you doing?! Please! This is our wedding day!”

He didn’t respond. Instead opening the bedroom door where other Fedra men stood there, leering at you as they came in one by one.

“I’m going to leave you here with a few of my more persuasive men and let’s see if by tomorrow morning your memory comes back.” With a lecherous grin, he shut the door to the sounds of your screams and pleas for help.

NO! PLEASE HENRY! DON’T TOUCH ME! STOP! HENRY! LET ME GO!

“Hey! Shhhh….it’s ok, baby.” A hushed drawl called your name, pulling you out of your hellish nightmare. Joel’s face hovered over yours. “Easy. You’re alright. It was just a dream, baby.”

You shirked away in terror, frantically searching for somewhere to hide. “Hey, focus on me. Breathe in and out.” You followed his instructions, inhaling and exhaling along with him. “In and out. Good.” He then gave you some water and encouraged you to lie back down and relax.

Laying there, staring up at the ceiling, it felt like a dam had burst within your heart. Fear. Shame. Anxiety. Sadness. A flood of emotions rushing through your veins impossible for you to stop.

“Joel, do you ever feel haunted? Like no matter how fast you run, the past always catches up to you. That it comes back to torment you.” You weren’t sure if he was even awake, yet you continued, “My dreams feel so real. It's like I’m back in that QZ again and I feel so helpless. It’s never over.”

After what felt like an eternity Joel finally spoke. “ I understand. Before all this I had a daughter. Sarah. She was my world. My everything. There are still moments when I see her, but then she slips away and it's like this fear comes out of nowhere and then your heart just stops.”

You turned and locked eyes with him, your own grief and pain mirroring his.

“I’m so afraid,” you said barely above a whisper, your voice breaking. “I’m afraid of what I’ll see when I’m asleep. I’m afraid of what I’ll see when I’m awake. I don’t know if I can keep living like this.”

“I know.” A tear slipped down Joel’s cheek and with a tentative finger, you reached out and caught it.

It struck you how odd life was. Laying in a fancy lodge with a person you would have never met if not for the most unusual and cruelest of circumstances. But right there you had never felt more connected to another person in your entire life, like a string tied to your heart was tethered to his.

Slowly, Joel inched closer and closer to you.”Ok?” he asked permission, carefully reaching out for you.

“Ok,” you consented.

Joel wrapped his arm around your shoulders as you laid your head on his chest. You didn’t think you could cry anymore. You didn’t think you had anymore tears left. But you couldn’t escape the sobs that wracked your body as you clung to his shirt.

“I’ve got you. I’m here,” he whispered, rubbing your back and holding you tighter. No questions were asked. No other words were spoken. He just held you.

Right there wrapped in his arms, with the beating of Joel’s heart as the sweetest lullaby, you had the most peace-filled sleep.

@orcasoul @smvtwitchmiller

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fic #tlou #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal #the last of us

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nataliesfirefly · 1 year ago

Text

You and I Walk a Fragile Line - Farleigh Start x F!Reader - Part 4

a/n: hey everyone! i know it's been a while but the next part is finally here! not sure how many parts i want this to be bc i dont want to fill up the tag, still waiting to make an ao3 account haha- but anyways im getting a taglist started just of people who have shown interest in this series, if i put you on it and you don't want to be on it just let me know. and ofc if u want to be on it lmk! i also made a playlist if anyone wants to check that out :))

playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/60Kll9HCoQru14J18bT21C

series masterlist

word count: 3.9k

warnings: language, suggestive stuff?, alcohol, smoking, emetophobia

Things are extremely awkward with Felix. He’s too nice to kick you out of Saltburn, yet he’s too prideful to apologize, so you two are stuck dancing around each other with small talk and short interactions.

Things with Farleigh, on the other hand, are surprisingly good. You never would have expected how close you two became in the past few days. In fact, you can’t remember the last time he insulted you, at least not in a playful way. You must have bonded over your shared dislike for Felix at the moment.

But for some reason, you worry if you get too close, he might push you away.

Tonight was dinner with all of Sir James’s friends, and as the Cattons tend to call them, the Henry’s. The actual dinner was full of awkward conversations with people much older than you about the future of your life and what you were going to do after graduating college. You actually had no idea what your plan was or what you wanted to do with your life. You used to push all the questions away and blamed it on the fact that graduation was pretty far away. It only recently dawned on you that you would be graduating in about two years.

After dinner, you sit in the dimly lit living room with Farleigh on the couch as everyone else participates in karaoke. You and Farleigh snicker at some of the guests’ performances, whispering things to each other as if you are judges of some competition.

Eventually, Farleigh sighs and stands to his feet. “I’m going to go smoke,” He tells you, putting his hands in his pockets. He turns and looks at you expectantly. You take it as his way of asking you to come with him, so you stand up and snatch the bottle of wine you were drinking off the coffee table.

You follow him up the stairs, down the long, dark hall and eventually into his bedroom. He shuts the door behind you and draws out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lights one. “At least open the window,” You walk over to the window and open it to let the smoke out.

“Oh, right. Cause you hate the smell so much.” He rolls his eyes at you as he exhales some smoke. “Weren’t you the one that asked me for one of these the other day?” He points the cigarette at you and you glance down shamefully.

“Yeah. I wasn’t at my best, okay?” You shake your head and slump down to the floor, leaning against the wall and stretching your legs out.

“Okay, sure, miss goody two shoes.” He chuckles and sits down next to you. You take a swig from the wine bottle and sigh, leaning your head back.

“So, Felix…” Farleigh trails off and looks over to you. You continue staring up at the ceiling. “Can we not talk about Felix right now,” You reply, closing your eyes. “We need to,” He says, nudging you.

“What is there to talk about?” You ask, turning to meet Farleigh’s gaze. He presses the cigarette to his lips and inhales. “You said it yourself, that he only hangs out with me out of pity.”

As he breathes out, the smoke passes over your face but you don’t care. “And what’s your problem with him? It seems like you’ve been waiting for someone to turn on him so you could join in,” You continue, and his eyes tell you that you’ve just read him like a book.

He quickly recovers and remains expressionless. “You’re projecting,” Farleigh responds. “Then why have you been so nice to me?” You ask.

The room goes silent and you are stuck in a moment where time doesn’t pass, it’s just you and Farleigh. His usual cold and dark gaze is replaced by something softer, warmer. Something in the air shifts and you can feel some kind of tension rising.

But then he looks away, breaking eye contact. “Because Felix is just stupid sometimes,” He finally replies, nodding toward the bottle of wine you are holding. You hand it to him and your fingers brush against his.

He takes a drink. “I don’t think he ever had bad intentions. He’s just an idiot,” You consider this. Maybe he’s just extremely out of touch with reality like the rest of the Cattons.

There’s a pause as you think of something to change the subject to.

“So… How about that Sadie girl?” You ask, turning to him with a grin. He gives the wine back to you and you take a quick swig.

Elspeth is, for some reason, attempting to set Farleigh up with a daughter of one of James’s friends. Her name is Sadie, and she is very pretentious and fake, from what you can tell. You hadn’t spoken to her, but you watched from afar as she and Farleigh engaged in a conversation.

“She’s alright,” He shrugs and stands up to press the cigarette out on his ashtray. He sits back down next to you and sighs.

“She was like, hardcore flirting with you,” You chuckle and observe his exasperated expression. “Oh, I know.” He smirks smugly and you roll your eyes.

“That’s weird, usually you hook up with someone the moment they show interest in you,” You smile at the way he frowns slightly. “That’s not true,” He furrows his eyebrows and glances at you. “Okayyy,” You say sarcastically.

A while later, you are still upstairs with Farleigh, but you are now feeling the effects of all the alcohol you’ve consumed. You both had gone downstairs to steal more booze, and you ended up drinking almost all of it. Your whole body feels tingly and warm, and your brain is fuzzy.

You run a hand through your tousled hair and sigh, turning to check if Farleigh is as wasted as you. He seems slightly better off than you, but his dark eyes are half lidded and glossy.

“Do you ever miss Sasha?” He glances at you, seeming surprised at your random question. Sasha is Farleigh’s ex from Oxford, who he had endured a tumultuous and rollercoaster ride of a relationship with. You had met her once or twice, she seemed kind, but slightly possessive.

“Sasha?” Farleigh repeats her name and takes a moment to process it. It seems like memories are returning to him and replaying in his head.

“Sometimes. But not really. She was crazy,” He raised his eyebrows and stared straight ahead. “You guys broke up and got back together, like, ten times,” You giggle foolishly and he turns to look at you, slightly offended by your amusement.

“It was too hard to keep up with,” You sigh after your laughter subsides.

“I didn’t know you were keeping up,” You make eye contact once again with Farleigh, and this time his gaze is more intense. You can’t tell if it’s one of his usual sarcastic comments or if there was an underlying meaning behind his tone. Your face burns red with the realization that you had been studying his relationship so closely. But, really, everyone in your friend group knew about Sasha and Farleigh’s dumpsterfire of a romance. Break up, random hook ups, they said they love each other, then they argued again.

“It’s just.. what friends do,” You reply, your speech slurred. “Friends keep up with each other’s relationships.” You shrug and wave your hand as if to dismiss the seriousness of it.

“You consider me a friend?” Farleigh chuckles, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, what if I do?” Your voice comes out softer than you intended.

There’s another long moment of silence and prolonged eye contact between you two. The tension is so thick, you can feel it in the air and your heart pounds. It’s almost like you are waiting for who will make the next move. Your brain is all muddled and you can’t seem to think clearly.

Your eyes flicker down to his plush lips and you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or not, but your instinct is to kiss him. You grab him by the face, a hand on either cheek, and pull him in, smashing your lips together sloppily. You pull away, shocked at yourself, dropping your hands into your lap as your lips hover over his.

You expect him to be disgusted and stand up and walk away, but there’s a slight pause before he is grabbing you and pulling you back in, kissing you almost aggressively. Like he’s been starved, like there’s not enough of you.

You squeak with surprise before you melt into him, softening as one of his hands travels down to your neck and the other settles on your waist. You both have to gasp for air in between sloppy kisses, but you don’t mind. Your heart races and your hands travel up into his hair, running your hands through his unruly dark curls. You find that you’ve been waiting so long to do that, to feel his hair in your hands.

He bites your lower lip and your eyebrows pinch together. “Sorry,” He mumbles, although his voice disappears into your mouth. You feel yourself losing balance and beginning to fall back onto the floor.

Before you know it, he’s on top of you, refusing to stop kissing you. It’s messy and you know you’re both drunk, but damn does it feel good. The tension feels like it’s being lifted off of you, and it’s relieving. You don’t know how long it will last but hell, you’re enjoying it. Both of his hands have moved to your hips and his fingers are pressing into you.

You feel his lips move from yours, moving down from your jaw to your neck. He’s kissing and sucking on your skin so passionately that you know you will have bruises tomorrow. You moan quietly and you hear him groan in response, his low voice vibrating against your neck.

You attempt to catch your breath as you suddenly feel something in your stomach, something unpleasant. Saliva begins to build in your mouth and it’s like you have an internal clock telling you how much time you have left before you absolutely hurl.

“Far-Farleigh,” You place your hands on his shoulders. You whimper and slightly push up on him. He glances up from your neck, staring up at you in confusion. You can’t deny that you enjoy viewing him from this angle, but you have other concerns at the moment.

“Gonna throw up,” You manage to get out before he’s rolling off of you, allowing you to get up. You clamber to your feet and scramble into the connecting bathroom, barely making it to your knees in front of the toilet before you throw up.

You grip both sides of the toilet for support as you practically spill your guts, coughing loudly. You would have liked some help or something from Farleigh, but it seems like he has just left you here to deal with it yourself.

You groan and wipe your mouth, sitting up and staring straight ahead in some sort of daze. You eventually come to your senses and stand up, flushing the toilet. You feel dizzy so you grab onto the counter of the sink to not lose balance, catching your reflection in the mirror.

Your hair is very messy, and your mascara is slightly smudged around your eyes. Your cheeks are warm and rosy, but in an unflattering way. You look like a wreck.

When you walk back into his room, he’s gone. You sigh in frustration and press a hand to your aching and pounding forehead. Somehow, you stumble back to your room and flop onto your bed. You managed to avoid the small number of guests left in the house, along with Venetia and Felix. You just want to get some sleep after the shitshow that just happened. And you know you’ll be paying for it in the morning.

2 YEARS EARLIER

You, Felix, and some of your other friends were gathered at the pub on a Friday night. There was chatter and the smell of cigarette smoke all around you. Felix returned from the bar and handed you a tall glass of beer.

You were focused on Farleigh and the girl who sat on his lap. Her hands were all over him, and he seemed totally enamored with her. She had a short skirt on and her wrists were covered in bracelets. She was pretty, you had to admit.

“Who’s that?” You asked, glancing up at Felix and pointing to the two. “Oh, that’s Sasha.” He replied. “She’s obsessed with Farleigh. And from what I can tell,” Felix sat down, pulling his chair closer to yours, “He’s liking it.”

You chuckled and took a sip of your beer. “Good for him,” You said, shrugging. “Bet they’ve already fucked,” Felix remarked and you snapped your head towards him. “Ew, Felix. That’s none of your business.” You made a disgusted expression.

“What? Everybody shags around here, it’s no surprise,” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Except you,” He added, grinning and nudging you. You rolled your eyes and looked back towards Sasha and Farleigh.

You didn’t want to imagine them… doing that. But for some reason, your mind kept trying to paint a picture of it. You shook your head to clear your thoughts.

You didn’t know why, but for some reason, you felt jealousy bubbling up inside of you. Why was it so easy for her to get what she wanted? You had liked a few men at Oxford, but you didn’t really even want a boyfriend or a commitment like that.

But as you watched Farleigh and Sasha’s hands intertwine, you felt envious.

“Hey, Felix, who was that guy you were going to introduce me to?” You asked, tapping your fingers against the table. “What? Oh, Joshua? I thought you said you didn’t want to meet him,” He replied. Felix was trying to set you up with one of his friends who seemed like a player. At this point, you didn’t care. It was like you were trying to prove that you could actually get a guy. Prove to who, though?

“I know. I changed my mind,” You said decidedly. “Well, he’s actually here tonight. Would you like me to go grab him?” Felix stood up and pointed towards the other side of the pub. You nodded. “Sure,”

You waited patiently and took a few swigs of beer for confidence. A minute later, Felix returned with a man who was a few inches shorter than him, with fluffy blonde hair and hazel eyes. Freckles were dusted across his nose and his skin was nicely tanned due to the warmer weather of spring. He looked sweet and innocent, but the rumors you had heard about him told you otherwise.

“Hello,” He greeted you, holding out his hand. You stood up to shake his hand, smiling as you introduced yourself. “Nice to meet you, I’m Joshua.” He grinned brightly and Felix seemed amused by the interaction.

“Hi, Joshua.” You tried to make a good first impression, although you weren’t good at this stuff. But it seemed like he was already interested, looking you up and down.

You both sat back down and began small talk about classes and life and friends. Felix left you two alone, but you’re not sure where he went. It was good, talking to someone new, but still a bit uncomfortable since you were so introverted. The conversation flowed nicely between the both of you.

You couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching you. You glanced up, seeing Farleigh’s cold gaze drilling into yours, flicking back and forth between you and Joshua. It was like he was waiting to see who would break eye contact first, and of course, it was you. Your gaze faltered down to the table and then back up to Joshua.

“You alright, love?” He asked, placing a hand on your thigh. You nodded and your face turned a shade of pink with embarrassment. “Sorry. Just thinking,”

“Hey, what do you say when we go back to my dorm? To just chill, relax, you know.” He tilted his head and you could already tell what he was implying. “Uh- Sure, yeah. Let’s go,” You smiled and stood up, grabbing your bag and walking past him toward the doors. He placed a hand on your lower back as you stepped by him.

You woke up the next morning unsure of where you were before memories of the night before came back to you. You were in Joshua’s bed, tangled up in the sheets, with your clothes off and scattered on the floor.

Your eyes widened as you realized you had lost your virginity to Joshua Brown. You sat up and scratched your head, not sure what to do next.

“Oh my God…” You whispered, looking down at Joshua, who was sleeping on his stomach, his face pressed against the pillow. It didn’t look like he was waking up anytime soon.

You stood up and winced as you realized you were a bit sore. You tried to be as quiet as possible as you picked your clothes up off the floor, hurriedly putting them back on.

Joshua stirred in his sleep and groaned, rolling over. You grimaced as you took your bag off of his desk chair, tip toeing to the door and opening it slowly.

You sighed with relief once you had closed his door behind you and you were safely out in the hallway. You know you probably looked like a wreck, but your main goal at the moment was to get back to your own dorm going unnoticed.

You heard your name being called, fairly close to you. You froze before turning to identify where it came from, and you swear your heart dropped to your ass. Farleigh was standing in the doorway of his room, which was conveniently right next door to Joshua’s, smirking at your frazzled state.

“You should work on keeping it down. I couldn’t sleep last night because I kept hearing you and Joshua.” He chuckled and you could feel your face heating up.

“Sorry,” You muttered, casting your glance downwards to the floor.

“You finally got some after all,” He teased. “Can you shut up?” You groaned, facepalming and shaking your head. “Oh, I will if you can figure out how to,” He raised his eyebrows. “Was it really that good?” He questioned.

You considered the question. You didn’t really know if it was or not, you were just trying to be loud because you thought guys liked that. Were you satisfied by the end? No. But Joshua certainly was.

He seemed to notice your puzzled expression and he nodded. “Oh. So the rumors are true about him.” You tilted your head with curiosity. “What rumors?” You asked.

“Oh, you poor thing.” He cooed sarcastically. You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms. “Well, you’d better get back to your place so you can study,” Farleigh mocked. “Make up for that time you lost last night, huh?”

“Can you just not tell anyone? Please?” You knew it was useless asking him not to tell. He had the biggest mouth in the whole class. He just snickered at your pleading and stepped back into his room and shut his door.

That night you hung out with Joshua in his dorm once more, but you told him you didn’t want to have sex again. He respected your decision, so you were just drinking some alcohol with him and making out occasionally.

“Yeah, I don’t really know what I’m going to do with an English degree. I just had to pick something.” He shrugged. You were talking about your futures after Oxford and what you were both majoring in.

“Hm. Well, there’s a lot you could do,” You replied, trying to reassure him, although you weren’t too sure yourself. “You could be-” Your sentence is cut short by a loud moan coming from the room next to you.

“Ah, shit. It’s Farleigh and Sasha again,” Joshua shook his head like it was a regular occurence. “They’re usually at it for a while,” He informed you. “Do you want to go somewhere else?”

Some odd, depraved part of you wanted to stay and listen. “No, that’s alright.” You shrugged. “Surely it can’t be that bad.”

The walls seemed paper thin. You swear you could hear every little noise, like the bed springs squeaking and the wanton sounds that came from Sasha. But then you heard something different. It was Farleigh, whimpering and moaning in a way that you couldn’t even believe what you were hearing. You didn’t know men could make sounds other than grunting during sex, let alone sounds like that.

“Oh fuck,” You heard him breathe heavily and Sasha was practically screaming at this point.

“Damn. They’re really getting into it,” You whistled and raised your eyebrows. Joshua nodded. “I wish I was as good as people say he is,” Joshua looked down. “What?” You asked as you tried to ignore the continuous noises. He was really telling you to be quieter earlier today?

“Farleigh. People say he’s really good in bed,” Joshua explained. You were surprised that he was okay with discussing this with you. “Oh.” You chuckled nervously. You didn’t expect that, but for some reason it made sense. “Was I bad?” Joshua asked suddenly.

You froze at his question and wondered if you should tell him the truth. “I mean… I don’t really… know the difference, you know? It was my first time, remember?” You told him. He nodded but you could tell he seemed hurt and defeated.

“Right,” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and you leaned back in your chair. You could say this was one of the most embarrassing moments of your life, having to listen to Farleigh fuck some girl while having an awkward conversation with the man you had a one night stand with.

The next day around noon, you were walking to a café near campus when you saw Farleigh walking ahead of you on the sidewalk of the cobblestone streets.

An idea popped into your head and you smiled mischievously, jogging to catch up with him. When you appeared at his side, he glanced down and made a face.

“Are you following me?” He asked, glaring at you as you fell into step next to him. “No. I just had a complaint,” You tried to hide the smile threatening your face. “What’s that?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Me and Joshua were trying to have a nice conversation last night,” You started, and his playful expression immediately dropped. “Maybe try to keep it down next time, right?” You grinned and he stopped in his tracks.

“You were there last night?” He seemed annoyed and a little bit shocked. “Yeah.” You nodded and stopped next to him. “I mean, I couldn’t even hear my own thoughts,” You laughed to yourself and he narrowed his dark eyes at you.

“And it wasn’t even Sasha as much as it was you–” “Keep your mouth shut,” He ordered, and you knew you got a rise out of him. “Practice what you preach, that’s all I’m saying,” You waved and skipped along the sidewalk, leaving him standing there in shock.

taglist: @isla-finke-blog @ibimbogrl @drunkmysticsquirrel @alonia-olivia @novemilady @saltburnsworld

#farleigh start #farleigh saltburn #farleigh x you #farleigh x reader #saltburn #farleigh start x reader

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ladykailitha · 8 months ago

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Around the World Part 6

Hello! And welcome to another chapter of this very underrated fic. Thank you to everyone who has given it love in the way of comments, reblogs/tags, and likes.

It's London calling! And we meet a Murray Bauman in the wild. Eddie and Steve get a little introspective and Steve does something rash.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Their trip through the haunting and beautiful Ireland was amazing. So many tales and history. This is why Steve wanted to do more than just America like Eddie had originally wanted, because America just didn’t have the history Europe and other places did. Not unless you wanted to disturb actual First Nation people and that was something he wanted to avoid at all cost, thank you.

They were on the ferry from Northern Ireland to Scotland and Steve was looking out over his shoulder at the water as he leaned against the guardrail. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, allowing the wind to blow through his hair.

Eddie slid his arm around him and Steve laid his head on his shoulder.

Today Eddie had his beard and faux-dreadlocks in a light blue button up shirt and cream colored wide-legged pants. His chunky sunglasses covered the his face.

“You know,” Eddie murmured, “until we reached this leg of our journey and you started to disguise me, I didn’t realize how much I missed just being Eddie Munson, regular guy. I can really see the appeal of you and friends’ way of doing it.”

“Yeah,” Steve said softly. “Of course it means that we can’t go all out and buy everything we want, stay in fancy hotels, show up at restaurants without a reservation and get in. But I can go into my local grocery store and buy two tubs of mint ice cream because I felt like it.” He lifted his head to look Eddie in the eye. “Like some Karen would judge me, but it’s not going to go up on TMZ that I’m letting myself go.”

God, Eddie had had that happen more times than he cared to count. Like once Chrissy was on her period and he went to go get her chocolate, Ben and Jerry’s, and pads. Before he even got to his car it was all over the internet that he was letting himself go, just because it was 2am and his best friend needed something to help her feel better.

“You think you’ll ever come out?” he asked, pulling Steve in closer.

It was a familiar and well-worn topic of theirs; whether or not Steve would ever come out as bisexual at least.

He ducked his head and looked away. He didn’t know. He didn’t like hiding parts of himself for those he loved. He would like to tell people this is the love of my life.

“Would you leave me if I said no?” he mumbled, not daring to look up.

Eddie placed his finger under Steve’s chin and lifted his head gently. “Of course not, Stevie. There are literal actors who have been married for years and no one knows. It’s just between them. We could do that too. Just a quiet ceremony, Robin and Chrissy as the witnesses, and a justice of the peace.”

Steve let out a weak sort of watery laugh and shook his head. “I want all our friends there, famous and otherwise. I want a full tilt party with music playing into the early hours of the morning. I want fancy tuxes and flowers galore. I know I might not get that, the absolute coward that I am. But if I marry you, it be to scream from the rooftops that I love you.”

Eddie bumped their shoulders together. “Softy.” Steve blushed. “Besides there is nothing in the world that says we can’t have it both ways. Have a quiet little ‘just us’ and then go full tilt when you come out. You don’t even have to tell anyone. Just a little comfort that I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve pressed a gentle kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “I’ll think about it.”

Eddie kissed him deeply and then tucked his head under his chin and they stayed like that until the ferry docked in Scotland.

God, Scotland and England were beautiful countries Eddie decided as he watched the rolling green hills from his train window. That was another thing he really liked about Europe in general, just all the different ways to travel that weren’t a car.

He looked over at Steve who had his glasses on and reading a book. He smiled at the title. His boyfriend wasn’t a fantasy fan or science fiction either, really, but put a clever mystery in his hands and you would have to pry to the book from his cold, dead fingers.

He glanced over at Chrissy and Robin who were playing Go Fish! They had asked him if he wanted to join them, but he passed. He rarely got time to just relax and watch the scenery go by when he was on tour. He was always doing something related to the band. Writing music, practicing, talking about the next venue, interview, or TV spot.

Him and his friends had fun, because of course they did. But it was nice to just let his mind wander. Currently he was sad that they were going to have to miss Wales this time. He really wanted to buy some Welsh gold jewelry. It’s super rare and absolutely gorgeous.

Maybe he would have to come back later and get something special for Steve. Just something simple like matching bands even if it wasn’t on the left hand. Or necklaces. Just something simple to prove they were it for each other.

“I made an appointment with a well-known tattoo artist in London,” Steve said nonchalant, but like he was reading Eddie’s thoughts.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to Steve. Robin nearly giving herself whiplash in her speed.

“As your friend, manager, and platonic soulmate,” she said darkly, “I advise against that. You can cover it up but someone, somewhere will see it.”

Steve looked up from his book and leveled her with his best bitchy glare. “Not if it’s on my ass.”

Chrissy and Eddie’s eyebrows shot up and they shared a shocked glance. Eddie always loved tattoos, he had a couple of stick and poke style ones from when he was young and stupid and couldn’t afford to pay for an artist to do the job, but there was one place, well technically two if you included his dick, which he absolutely did, that he refused to get a tattoo on and that was his ass. Not being able to sit down properly for what would probably be weeks was not his idea of a good time.

“Not really, though, right?” Chrissy asked with a grimace.

Steve took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Of course not really. Sheesh, you guys. But I hid fucking hickies from the both of you for a year and you never noticed, so I’m pretty sure I can hide one fucking tattoo.”

Robin and Chrissy shared their little ‘manager’ glance and Chrissy folded first.

“You’re right, Steve,” she said calmly. “Not once did you forget or slip up and you should be applauded for that. But is there a reason you’re deciding to get a tattoo now instead of waiting until we’re back in the States and you can use Eddie’s personal artist?”

He looked over at Robin and their little telepathy thing went off again and this time Robin folded first.

“It’s for Eddie,” she murmured. “They can’t be out as a couple and with Steve being the romantic that he is, wouldn’t want to get married without all his friends there, so this is his way of telling Eddie he isn’t going anywhere either.”

Eddie blinked for a moment. “Do you think they take walk-ins?”

“I booked it for both of us.” Steve smiled at him and took his hand. Eddie beamed back at him.

“They are so disgustingly cute,” Robin huffed, crossing her arms. “I bet Steve has this really sweet idea for a tattoo that even if people do notice it they won’t be able to tell the meaning but he and Eddie will know and be so sickeningly precious about it.”

Eddie gave him a huge kiss on the cheek. “I love my super clever boyfriend and can’t wait to see what this brilliant plan is.”

Steve’s brilliant plan was half of a white mask on Eddie’s inner wrist and half of guitar on Steve’s and when they held hands it formed almost heart.

The tattoo artist was really impressed with the idea and was more than happy to implement it. Steve walked out of there, completely smug as Chrissy pointed out. Deservedly so.

They were to stay in London for three days because of all the haunted places in London alone, there were so many worth visiting. They were going to start at Jack the Ripper tour and move onto the tour of London.

The tour they learned with deep dismay had accidentally been scheduled at 2pm and not 2am like Eddie had thought it said. It was so boring and their tour guide so dull, Eddie accidentally tripped of one of those concrete pillars they had in the middle of the sidewalk to prevent cars from driving up on it.

“Oof!” Eddie wheezed as he straightened up. “Why do they even put those things here?”

“Chrissy Cunningham,” a nasally voice said from behind them. “What are you doing in my neck of the woods?”

They all turned slowly to see a weaselly little bald man with thick horn-rimmed glass.

“Holy shit,” Chrissy said slowly. “Murray Bauman, as I live and breath. What the hell are you doing in London?”

He shrugged. “Eking out a living doing tours for bored tourists. When the biggest metal band in the world drops you, so does everyone else.”

Chrissy and Eddie shared a grimace. Corroded Coffin had deliberately did that to Nancy after the shit she pulled with Steve and trying to be The Fallen’s agent. But this one was a complete accident.

“Oh fuck off,” Robin said with a grin. “You love it. I can tell. You have actual notes written down, you have a map marked with all the spots the murders take place. I bet you have all the great stories.”

Murray flushed and cocked his head to the side. “I mean I didn’t want to brag. But yeah, certainly better than Molly over there.” He jutted his thumb at their tour guide. “Most of the good ones are from tour companies and then you get people like Molly who make it look legit online and trick people into taking day tours.”

“God, I was so bored,” Eddie huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I felt jet lagged.”

Murray’s eyes instantly narrowed and cocked his head to the side and instantly everyone else tensed up. He took in their reactions and mimed zipping his mouth shut.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, “if you’re still in town tomorrow, meet me here at 9pm and I’ll give you a proper tour.”

Chrissy licked her lips slowly. “Or what?”

“Huh?” He was confused for a moment before he smacked his forehead. “Oh! No, no. I’m not going to blackmail you. Holy shit. If people want to enjoy a vacation without all the publicity, good on them.” He looked Eddie up and down. “Looks good on you kid.”

Eddie was suddenly glad for the large sunglasses and beard because it hid the blush on his cheeks.

“No, I’m just saying,” Murray continued, “that if you wanted to experience a proper Jack the Ripper tour, I’m willing to do it. I don’t have a tour currently booked and beside I like her.” He pointed at Robin, who grinned back him.

The four them all shared glances at each other.

“I’m down,” Steve said with a shrug. “If you’re as good as you say you are and aren’t trying to actively ‘get back’ at Chrissy for taking your job, I know I’d be interested in seeing what Whitechapel has to offer after dark.”

“I like him too,” Murray said brightly, rubbing his hands together. “So what do the rest of you say?”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Steve’s three menaces said together.

He just smiled fondly and shook his head.

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @garden-of-gay

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailitha writes #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar steve harrington #rockstar au

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therealcocoshady · 1 year ago

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Recovery - Chapter 1

Eminem x Reader (Y/N) fanfiction

Summary : Y/N is getting sober and trying to rebuild her life after a hard breakup when she meets Marshall Mathers.

Tags : mention of SA ; Miscarriage ; Addiction

Author’s note : this is my first shot a my writing a fanfiction. Hope you enjoy it x

Chapter 1

- Thank you for having me, you said to Talia.

- No problem, baby. You stay as long as you need to, she answered while giving me a hug.

You looked around, taking everything in. In a matter of days, you had lost nearly everything. It all started when you woke up in the hospital, several tubes attached to your body.

FLASHBACK

Apparently, you had been in a coma for three days. Simon, your boyfriend of two years was sitting in a chair next to your bed.

- I can’t believe you did it again, Y/N.

- It’s not what you think, Simon.

- It is exactly what I think. You need help. You need to get yourself together. Next time you might not be so lucky. You might actually die, he said.

Dying. To be fair you hadn’t really tried to kill yourself. It was more complicated than that and Simon knew it.

- I’m sorry, you said, trying to hold his hand.

- No, he simply answered, taking his hand off yours.

He looked at you with a piercing gaze, not saying a word for what felt like forever. He didn’t need to, anyway. You already knew it was over.

- I love you, Y/N. I really do. But I can’t go on like this. You need to seek treatment, he said with tears in his eyes.

- I just wanted to sleep, you know, you tried to explain.

- By taking over 100 pills of Xanax ?! Are you fucking kidding me ? He asked, fire coming from his eyes.

- I…

Tears started rolling on your cheeks. As much as you knew you had done something terribly stupid, you wished he wouldn’t break up with you. You wished he would understand.

- Simon, don’t do this, you pleaded.

- I’m sorry, he simply said, getting up and grabbing his jacket. You have a problem and I cannot deal with it.

He walked towards the door and faced you for the last time.

- Your stuff will be packed when you get out of here.

And there it was. Shortly after moving in with your boyfriend, you were homeless.

END OF FLASHBACK

- Are you ok, Y/N ? Talia asked.

- Yeah. Sorry. I just… I can’t believe it’s over, you said. I really screwed up.

She gave you a big hug again.

- What’s done is done. Now you need to focus on getting better, she said.

- Thank you for being here for me. And allowing me to move in with you. And not judging me.

- What you need now is not judgement. It’s support. I am a bit mad though, she explained. I wish you had come clean to me about all those prescription pills.

- I thought I could manage, you tried to explain.

- Well you thought wrong.

Your best friend was being hard on you, and she had every right to be. For months, you had been lying through your teeth to everyone in your life. You had pretended that you were this happy-go-lucky girl who had it together. On the outside, you had everything : you were successful in your PhD research at university of Michigan, a loving boyfriend you had just moved in with and a tight-knit circle of friends who loved you unconditionally. But deep down, you had been unable to handle the pressure of your studies and, the hardest thing of all, you had lost your baby, going through a miscarriage at 13 weeks of pregnancy.

- You should rest before I take you to your meeting, Talia said. And then, we’ll go to the studio. Jamal invited us.

- Do we have to ? I think I’d rather come back here right after the meeting, you pleaded.

- Meeting new people will be good for you, she said. And I won’t lie : I don’t think you should be alone in here.

She was making it clear that she didn’t trust you. After all, how could you possibly prove that you weren’t going to be popping pills as soon as you were alone ?

- Right, you said.

She left you to your new room. Thank God she and Jamal, her boyfriend, were living in a big house with plenty of room to spare.

Jamal was a beat maker and producer and had made quite a name for himself. He was now starting to work with famous people. One of them was Eminem. You weren’t a big fan, although you did enjoy some of his most well-known music. In fact, this man was to be credited for you learning how to swear in English, as you’d learned the language by watching movies and listening to music. You hadn’t listened to him in a long time though and you were kind of wondering what he was up to, now.

Talia sometimes went to the studio with Jamal and she was getting along with everyone. According to her, “Em” (as she called him) was a great guy and she was pretty sure the two of you would get along.

FAST FORWARD

You had officially made it through your first NA meeting. It had been emotional but you were glad you went. Now was the time you dreaded : meeting everyone at the studio. As much as you appreciated Talia’s efforts to help you clear your head, you weren’t exactly the social type.

As the two of you entered the studio, you were greeted by half a dozen people. As soon as he saw you, Jamal got up and have you the biggest hug.

- How did it go ? He asked.

- Uh… it went well, I guess, you answered.

You weren’t particularly intent on talking about it, especially in front of people. Fortunately, Jamal was wise enough not to elaborate. The two of you were close and he knew better than to embarrass you. Still, you were thankful for his concern. From the moment he learned you’d be moving in with them, he had been nothing but supportive. « I know you’ll get through it », he had said.

Talia introduced you to everyone.

- So, this is Y/N, our new roommate and my very best friend, she said.

- How come we never met you before ? Somebody asked.

- Well, Y/N is a scholar so she doesn’t have a lot of time for people with lesser minds, she said jokingly.

You blushed immediately. Your best friend was the most supportive person of your work and she never stopped telling you how proud she was.

- Nice to meet you all, you said a bit awkwardly.

You shook everyone’s hand and you kind of had a shock as you introduced yourself to Eminem. You remembered him from at least fifteen years ago, blonde hair and clean shaven. He was now sporting brown hair as well as a well-trimmed beard. You would never have recognised him, had the two of you crossed path in the street. You couldn’t help but think to yourself that he was rather good looking. And in pretty good shape for an older dude who was in his early fifties. In fact, he did look at least ten years younger.

- Call me Marshall, he said as soon as he shook your hand.

- Ok, Marshall, you said while looking in his deep blue eyes.

He wasn’t as cheerful and smiling as the others, but he wasn’t distant either. You had always pictured him as a loud person, but the man you had in front of you was far from it. In fact, he seemed like the quiet, rather serious type. He looked like he was staring at you as if he was trying to read into your soul.

You joined Talia and sat on one of the big leather couches while everyone got back to working. You looked around and noticed that the studio seemed like a very comfortable, soothing space. For the first time today, you eased a little.

After some time, the group decided to take a break. Most of them went outside to smoke a cigarette and get some air, but you stayed inside. You did indulge in the occasional cigarette but you had been told it would be easier for you to refrain from taking any substance. You tried to be reasonable and not get tempted by the smell.

At some point, you were left with only Marshall, who was listening to the tune they just recorded in his headphones, pushing buttons on the mixing desk.

- So, how long have you been sober ? He asked as he looked at you.

- How do… how do you know ? You asked in shock.

- I was with Talia and Jamal when they got the call about one of their friends behind in the hospital after an OD. And you playing with your NA chip kind of tipped me off, he shrugged.

- Oh. Right. Actually, today was my first meeting, you said and blushed a little.

- Recovery is hard, he pointed out. Congrats on taking the first step.

You didn’t say more and he got back to mixing, as you stayed silent and watched him being extremely focused. As you studied him, you couldn’t help but notice an AA necklace dangling from his neck.

- So you’re in recovery too ? You asked.

- Yeah. Been sober for fifteen years now, he said with a smile.

- Wow. That’s impressive.

- Doesn’t mean it’s always easy, though, he confessed. But it’s 100% worth it.

There were a hundreds of questions going through your mind, but you clearly did not know him enough to ask them. Instead, you just smiled.

- Want to give me your opinion on the track ? He offered with a smile while handing you the headphones.

- I know nothing about music but sure, why not, you said, taking place in the chair next to his.

You placed the headphones on your ears and he played the song. You closed your eyes, in order to concentrate on what you were hearing. You were amazed at how fast this man was able to rap. Yet, you could hear and understand every single word. You particularly enjoyed the rhyming schemes. And, as ever with Jamal, the music was on point.

- it’s good, you said. It’s really good.

- Good to hear, he said with a smile.

The others came back to the room and Talia seemed extatic at the sight of you and Marshall talking. She knew how shy you were and every time you talked to someone new, she saw it as some sort of victory.

- So, people, Jamal said. How about y’all come to our place after ?

Everyone cheered and agreed. From what you gathered, it was usual for the group to meet at Jamal and Talia’s after a long day at the studio, so that they could kick back and get their mind off work. Talia held your hand in hers.

- I forgot Jamal wanted to have people over, I’m so sorry she said.

- It’s fine, you reassured her. But I’d rather stay in my room, if you don’t mind.

As everyone was arriving at Talia and Jamal’s, you said your goodbyes decided to hide in your room. Not that everyone hadn’t been super nice, but you highly suspected that there would be alcohol involved, if not weed. While you were climbing up the stairs, Talia grabbed your arm.

- Are you going to be ok ? There won’t be any hard liquor or anything like that, Y/N. Just a few beers, she said.

- I know, but… it’s been a long day. Meetings, people… I’d rather rest, you reassured her.

- Sure, she said as she gave you a peck on the cheek. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.

As soon as you entered your room, you changed into some comfier clothes : a cream-colored, cashmere set. You removed your makeup and put your hair up in a bun. You weren’t going to see people anyway so why bother ? You decided to watch Friends (your favorite show on Earth) and snuggle under a throw that reminded you of the place you shared with Simon.

After a couple of episodes, you heard a unfamiliar knock.

- come in ? You said.

The door opened and you saw Marshall standing there.

- So, are you hiding ? He asked with a smile.

- Kind of, you admitted.

- You have nothing to be scared of, he said. It’s very chill, downstairs.

- There’s still booze, right ?

- Just beer.

- I don’t really trust myself, you admitted.

- You had a drinking problem too ? He asked.

- Nope. Just pills. But now that they’re gone, I swear I’d take anything just to feel remotely… whatever.

- I feel you, Marshall said.

- Do you ?

- Yes, he simply said, showing his AA necklace.

- How do you feel so comfortable in a setting like this then ? You asked, wondering if you would ever get to the same point.

- It’s been 15 years, he explained. It gets easier with time. Plus, I’ve come to value the person I’ve become much more than the person I used to be when I was using. No money in the world could convince me to come back to that.

- It’s hard, you know. Hiding here when I know what’s going on down there, I said.

- Talia already gave Jamal so much shit about it, he said with a laugh.

This made you smile. Deep down, you knew Jamal didn’t mean harm, so you were kind of hoping Talia wasn’t giving him too much of a hard time.

- Thank you, you whispered. I don’t want to deprive you of your own fun, though.

- It’s fine. I don’t think I’m gonna stick around for long. I wanted to see if you wanted to go for a drive. You know, change your mind …?

- Uh… sure, I replied. Give me 5 minutes so that I can get dressed ?

He left the room and you quickly put together an outfit with a pair of dark wash jeans, a black turtleneck, a pair of knee-high boots and a blazer. You put your hair in a sleek ponytail and added some mascara for good measure. You weren’y trying too hard, but I definitely wanted to make an effort. After all, you had just met him - and he was extremely attractive.

- Ready to go, you said as you emerged of my room.

- Some sweats would have been enough, you know, he said joking.

- Oh. I started blushing.

- You look great though.

He didn’t say a word more and you got downstairs.

- Y/N and I are going on a drive, Marshall announced.

- Wait a minute, Talia said before you got the chance to get through the door.

She looked at both of you.

- No messing around. No drinking. No smoking. Nothing illicit or illegal. And you’d better be back home before midnight.

- Yes, Marshall noted with a chuckle.

- Yes Mom, you said jokingly while giving her a peck on the cheek.

As you got ouf of the house, you got to an impressive car. You were never good at recognising the brands or models, but this one was huge and it seemed like it was really expensive. It was also a bit contrast with Marshall, who did not look like the over-the-top stereotypical rapper. In fact, he was wearing normal clothes - jeans and a hoodie, no luxury logo to be seen.

- Where are you taking me ? I asked.

- You’ll see, he said with a voice full of mystery.

Normally, you wouldn’t have agreed to a car ride with someone you barely knew, but you were so eager to leave the house that you did not really care.

You took place in the car and Marshall started driving.

#eminem #marshall mathers #eminem x reader #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers headcanons #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers x reader

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justsomerandomfanfic · 1 year ago

Text

Azkaban Prison - Sirius Black X Female Reader

Title: Azkaban Prison

Sirius Black X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Rita Skeeter (Mentioned), Harry (Mentioned), James (Mentioned), Lily (Mentioned), Pince (Mentioned), Voldy (Mentioned), and Reader's parents (Mentioned)

Requested by: Anon!

WC: 1,903

Warnings: Azkaban, sarcastic Reader, Auror Reader, very brief mention to drinking/partying, crying, sort of sad, set during the second book/movie, nicknames, banter, teasing, flirting, slight angst, and fluff

"Dropping off another one, Miss L/N?"

You gave the man at the security desk a stiff nod and an equally stiff smile, "Yep! I just don’t know where they keep coming from." You answered sarcastically as the witch you brought in was taken to her cell.

The man, whose name tag spelled out 'Stanley Parloose,' only grumpily nodded before he gestured for your wand. "Wand, please."

"Alright, don't get your trousers in a twist," You grumbled, taking out your wand and handing it to the man, who then sat it on the Wand Weigher.

"Is that all you are here to do?" Stanley asked, looking up at you, past the rims of his thickly-framed glasses; his bright blue eyes almost judging you as you rocked on the balls of your feet.

Looking off, you pretended to think about your answer before giving the man a grin, "I don't know... You wouldn't allow me to go up a couple of floors, would you?" You asked, raising an eyebrow as the man sighed heavily.

"You're the middle-tier Auror, Miss L/N. What do you think the answer is?" Stanley asked boredly, resting his head in his hand as he looked up at you.

You pouted slightly, crossing your arms over your chest, "I think the answer is no, but it's worth a shot every time." You muttered as the man snorted, looking down at his paperwork.

"Correct again, Miss L/N," Stanley teased, smirking as you scoffed.

"I could have you fired, Mr. Parloose." You snapped, watching as the man's smirk grew.

"You may work for the Ministry, Miss L/N," Stanley sang, laughing when you huffed, "But, you know that your name is not on the list. I can not permit you to travel up there for you are-"

"I'm not someone with strong ties or anything. Yeah, I know. It's bollocks." You tilted your head as you stared down at the man, "But... You know... I think I can have Rita Skeeter interview you some time..." You trailed off, watching as the man's eyes widened slightly before he cleared his throat.

"Rita Skeeter? You know her?" He asked, trying to hide the fact that he was very intrigued by the idea of an interview by the witch.

You smiled, knowing that you won this battle, "Of course, I do! She's a very dear friend of mine. We are like this." You emphasized, crossing your fingers together to show how close you were to the - annoying - woman. "I'm sure she'd love to do an exclusive interview with the security guard of the most formidable wizard prison, who also allows me access to the floor I'm not supposed to be on." You told him, his eyes widened even more as you stepped forward to lean lightly on his desk, pretending to examine your nails.

"You're bluffing..."

"Am I?" You countered, staring down at the man, gaze unwavering, "You know... She once told me that she had a thing for brunettes. And that she may or may not be single." You drew the fishing line, and Stanley took the lure.

"Fine. You can go up there for no more than ten minutes. No more, no less." He told you, pointing his quill at you with a less-than-threatening glare.

You grinned, smiling bright, "Thanks, Stanny." You sang, pushing off the desk and turning on your heel.

"Hey! Don't call me that!" You heard the man yell as he glared at you.

"Whatever you say, Stanny-boy!" You yelled back.

You quickly made your way up and up the tower of Azkaban, your mind elsewhere as you thought about your boyfriend. It had been years since you had last seen him, eleven years to be exact.

You remembered the last night you saw Sirius Black. You had just watched your two best friends, James and Lily tie the knot. You partied, drank, ate, and danced with Sirius and your friends. You didn't remember much after that, just you and Sirius flooing home, and crashing on the couch together. That morning, you got ready to visit your family for the month, packing your bags, eating breakfast with Sirius, and kissing each other goodbye before you flooed to your family home. What you didn't know was that that was the last kiss you and Sirius would share.

Oh, how you wished that you were there when they took him away. But you knew that there would be nothing you could do. That was why you became an Auror in the first place, rising in the ranks slowly to finally reach the point that you could see him again - albeit sort of illegally.

It was dark, and you stumbled slightly as you found his cell. Peaking through the small window in the metal door, you felt the air in your lungs escape you, and you cursed under your breath. Sirius sat in the corner of the room, legs up against his chest, arms wrapped around him, the sunlight shining down upon him from the thin window.

"Sirius..." You muttered, just enough that his head lifted at the sound of your voice, eyes rapidly flickering around the room - as if he had really gone insane, imagining your voice - before he found the small portion of your face peeking out from the window on the door.

"Y/N?" His voice was hoarse from lack of use, and you swallowed back the lump forming in your throat at the sight of him. You nodded your head, pushing up to rest your forehead on the metal door. You didn't say anything, afraid if you did, you would cry. You heard and watched him move, the scraping of his skin and his prison clothing against the wall as he pushed himself to his feet. His hand reached out for you, just brushing against your cheek before he almost flinched back in fear that it was all a dream, that you weren't real. "Y/N," He repeated, voice louder this time as if he was making sure that you were really there.

"It's me, Sirius." You responded softly, looking at him through the window, seeing his eyes staring right into yours. “I’m here.” You frowned deeply upon seeing how thin and frail he looked, "My poor baby, what have they done to you..?

"How are you here?" He asked, ignoring your question, staring at you with those gray eyes that you missed so much.

Licking your bottom lip, you gave him a small, nervous smile, "I'm an Auror... And I may or may not have bribed the security guard to let me up here." You admitted sheepishly, feeling your heart race in your chest as his lips twitched slightly at your confession.

"Oh, Y/N," He said, moving the tips of his fingers against your cheek, a soft chuckle leaving him as you leaned into his touch as much as you could from the window's small opening. "How come you haven't seen me before?" He asked, his thumb stroking your skin as your eyes fell shut.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, feeling tears burn behind your eyes as you looked back at him. "Stanley, the security guard, is surprisingly hard to crack. If I had known that he had a huge crush on Rita Skeeter, I would've used that instead." You admitted, shrugging slightly as a small, breathy laugh left Sirius.

"It's been so long, my love," He muttered, "I haven't seen you in close to a decade." He murmured, a soft look appearing on his features as he took in every detail of you that he could make out from the terrible lighting.

"It has..." You agreed, "I missed you. A lot." You told him truthfully, giving him a watery smile as he looked at you with such sorrow and adoration it made you weak in the knees. "But, we will get you out of here, and I will take you far away from this place." You told him, your eyes flickering around his cell before they returned back to his face. "I just need time... I- I can get you out, I just need-"

"Shhh..." He hushed you softly, stroking his dirty thumb over your bottom lip, but you didn’t care, "It's okay, Y/N. You don't have to explain yourself to me. I know how the Ministry works. They've done a lot of wrong by me... But you... You will make it right again. You're too good for this world."

You couldn't help the tears that flowed down your cheeks as he spoke, his voice deep and soothing, "I love you, Siri." You whispered, watching as he smiled at you, and it was like the stars in the night sky.

"I love you too, my little treasure," Sirius said, voice soft and rough with emotion.

Blinking rapidly, tears burned the back of your eyes as you cleared your throat lightly, "Are you alright?" You asked, before huffing, shaking your head slightly, "That's a silly question. You don't have to answer that." You laughed slightly as you wiped away your tears, "Is there anything I can bring you next time? I think I can get Stanley to let me up here again... I can bring food maybe or-"

"You..." He responded, interrupting you, smiling when you blinked up at him in confusion, "You're all I need, Y/N... You and your little smile that melts me into a puddle every time I see it. Your soft hair that always smells like summer."

"Sirius," You sighed out, your smile growing uncontrollably at his words, "Became a poet, have you?"

"The thought of you has kept me sane," Sirius muttered, glancing around his cell quickly before looking back at you, "How's Harry?" He then asked, swiftly changing the topic.

"Little Harry?" You asked, "He's doing as good as he can, being the Boy Who Lived and all."

"Is he doing alright at Hogwarts?"

"He is. I try to visit Hogwarts as much as I can to check up on him. I gave him that picture of James and Lily for his twelfth birthday." You told him, "He's a lot like you, really. James too. He gets into so much trouble. Aside from the trouble You-Know-Who causes." You bit your lip briefly, narrowing your eyes playfully, "And that's funny coming from you. It took a lot of convincing to get you to even do your homework."

Sirius laughed, and it was a beautiful sound, and you would be lying if you said you didn't want to hear it more often. "You got me there… You’d never see me in that library. Pince hated me."

Your smile dwindled slightly, looking down at your Muggle watch, "I have to go... Stanley only gave me ten minutes." You whispered, biting the inside of your cheek, feeling like the worst person in the world for leaving.

"I understand. You do what you have to, treasure." He told you, though his eyes were begging and pleading for you to stay.

"I'll try and come back and see you. I promise." You muttered, reaching your hand up to touch his, your fingers just brushing against his own as he gave you a nod.

"I'll be waiting for you." He replied, and you could feel your heart in your throat as you smiled at him, taking one last look before you left him to go back to the floor you were not supposed to be on.

---

Main Masterlist | Harry Potter Masterlist

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