#I have to message them through my relationship manager and not my Messages page. SICK. GO OFF ACTUALLY | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lemoncrushh · 4 months ago

Text

Cubicle // 22) When I'm With You

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 2382

Monday // Harry

I paced back and forth in the break room for a good ten minutes. I couldn't bring myself to walk to my desk, let alone do any work. Not when Roni was in Donald's office, potentially getting canned.

She'd called me the night before after she'd arrived home, frantic about a phone message she'd gotten from Nina. I'd told her there was no point in worrying until there was actual cause to worry. But boy, was I worried.

A million different scenarios ran through my mind, some circling around again, particularly the one where Holcomb had spilled the beans about my relationship with Roni, as well as our encounter at the pub. Our personal affairs should have nothing to do with our work ethic, at least that was what I'd convinced myself and was prepared to say if I was to be put on trial. But knowing Holcomb...anything was possible.

Looking up at the clock, I realised it was already after nine. Roni was still behind the closed door down the hall. It hadn't opened once. Resolving that my pacing wasn't gonna do any good, I finally made my way to my cubicle. I sat down in my chair, my fingers on the keyboard, but I typed nothing. I didn't even bother to turn the damn computer on. I just stared at the black screen.

"Harry," I vaguely heard behind me. "Mate. You alright?"

"If they let her go, I'm going with her," I mumbled, not at anyone in particular.

"Huh?"

The bile rose in my throat, and I thought I was gonna be sick. I stood up again, making my chair roll behind me and hit the partition. I ran to the bathroom and splashed water on my face, taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly. I felt like I was having an anxiety attack.

"Fuck this shit," I cursed, pushing the toilet door open with a thud.

I marched down the hall to Donald's office, passing Nina's empty desk. She must be in there with them, I thought. I knocked on the door loudly, then again. It clicked open, but only slightly to reveal Nina's face.

"Sorry, Harry," she said. "We'll call you when we're ready for you."

"Ready for me? So this is what I think it is?"

"Nnnn...not exactly...we..."

I pushed the door open further, making her take a step back. I saw the boss behind his desk, his arms folded atop it. Roni sat in a chair opposite him, her neck craned to see me.

"Listen, I have to say something," I announced, walking into the room.

"Harry," warned Roni.

"Please," I gulped. "Roni's a great employee. She hasn't done anything wrong."

"Harry, this isn't-" began Nina.

Donald held up his hand. "Let him finish his speech."

I nodded at him and licked my lips before continuing.

"Roni's done everything she's been asked to do, and then some. Yes, it's true we're dating. No. Not dating. We're in love. And I know you're probably gonna say something like my judgement's clouded by my feelings. And maybe that's true. But I know I'd do anything for her, and that includes putting my own job on the line. She deserves to stay here. Fire me if you have to."

I caught the tiny smile on Nina's face as Donald widened his eyes and clasped his hands together.

"Mr. Styles, your loyalty is commendable. I'm sure Ms. Graver appreciates it immensely. But I assure you, her job is not at risk. And neither is yours."

"What?"

I stared at him incredulously as he asked me to have a seat next to Roni. I obliged, sitting down cautiously. Roni grinned at me, her eyes twinkling. I couldn't have been more confused if a spaceship had landed, and a family of alien corncobs had exited the aircraft.

Nina pulled up another chair, settling in next to me with a notepad in her lap. She tapped it with her pen when Donald asked her to explain.

"So Harry, Roni already told me she knew that I used to be in sales."

I nodded. "Yeah."

Nina pursed her lips. "I was sales manager, actually. Top in the company. Not just here at this location. But over the entire region."

"Oh. Wow."

"Yes. Gerard Holcomb was my lead salesman. His numbers were through the roof. That is, until Storm came along."

"Your...boyfriend?"

"My husband."

My mouth opened but no sound came out.

"He wasn't my husband yet, but we became romantically involved. Gerard hated it, hated him. Storm would bring in very close to the amount of sales that Gerard did, and he felt threatened, I guess. But he thrived on competition. Even if he had to get nasty. Eventually Storm had had enough and decided to start looking for another job. When he was offered one, he quit."

"Wait," I narrowed my eyes. "I heard Holcomb got him fired. Because you snuck around together instead of going on sales calls."

Nina nodded. "That's what Gerard wants everyone to believe. He started the rumour himself. To look like a big shot. But I know the truth. Storm was fed up with his jealousy, although I'm not sure what he was jealous of, exactly. I also had a young female salesperson named Kate, and Gerard was always trying to get her to go out with him."

I eyed Roni who eyed me back.

"Yeah, we...heard about that."

"Unfortunately, no evidence proved that Gerard was lying, nor that he was being inappropriate. I decided I couldn't take it either, and I went to Donald, ready to quit. But he convinced me to stay with the company as his assistant."

"Oh, I see," I looked at Donald.

"It's awful to say," admitted Nina," but I've been trying for so long to stick it to Gerard Holcomb. So thank you, Harry."

"Me?"

"You and Roni."

I eyed her again, catching her soft, beautiful smile.

"Threatening someone's job is bad enough," said Donald. "But doing it if that someone is refusing your advances is inexcusable and grounds for immediate dismissal."

"You mean..."

Donald nodded. "He has been terminated."

I sat back with a sigh. I felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

"Which brings us to the next point of business," he added. "Nina will be returning to her position as sales manager. We didn't really have one while she was my assistant, and I think it's long overdue."

"Oh," I mouthed.

"Ms. Graver here will be taking Nina's place as my assistant."

"What?" I beamed at her, her cheeks blushing as she giggled with glee.

"She came very highly recommended," explained Nina. "Greta is fond of her and I've been watching and taking notes myself. And it's apparent how you feel about her as well."

I just kept smiling at her. "It is?"

Nina and Donald chuckled at the same time.

"I have eyes, Harry," remarked Nina. I do appreciate your display of chivalry and compassion earlier, but you needn't come barging into the office."

"Sorry 'bout that." I addressed Roni then. "So...does that mean I'm your assistant now?"

Roni opened her mouth to speak, but Nina beat her to it.

"Which brings me to the next order of business," she said. "With me as sales manager and Veronica as Donald's assistant, there are two new positions opening up, Harry. A salesperson, or Greta's assistant. But of course, you are entitled to stay at your current job if you wish."

I laughed nervously. "I don't think I'm cut out to be a salesman."

"Oh please," giggled Roni. "You could sell water to a cactus."

I tilted my head. "You think?"

"Uh huh." God, her smile could light up a room. I loved seeing her happy. And right now she was positively glowing.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I love you, too."

I heard Donald clear his throat as Nina told me I didn't have to decide right then. The new positions wouldn't take effect for two weeks. I had time to mull it over.

I was so fucking happy when I left Donald's office, I literally skipped down the hall. Roni laughed, taking my hand and pulling me into a hug.

"It's all gonna be okay now," she cooed, pressing her head against my chest.

"More than okay, my love. More than okay."

Roni

Harry and I wanted to celebrate. He stopped and got Chinese take-out on the way to my place and I opened a bottle of wine. We sat on my rug and ate, toasting to our new jobs.

"Even though you didn't end up having to," I said, "I appreciate that you were willing to lose your job over me."

"I'd lose anything if it meant I could keep you."

I had no words. I sat and stared at him in awe. How did I ever get so lucky?

"Gotta admit though," he added, "I was gutted not knowing what was going on in that office. I was prepared to see you come out the door crying your eyes out. And I can't stand to see you cry."

I smiled, leaning my head on his shoulder as I sipped my wine. We sat in silence for a while, until I had to voice my thoughts.

"Why are you so good to me?" I asked.

"Because I love you."

"Why do you love me?"

"Why...Roni..."

"Maybe I should rephrase that. What do you love about me?"

"Everything."

I lifted my head and looked into his gorgeous green eyes. "Honestly. What is it about me?"

Harry set his glass on my coffee table and reached for my face, cupping it in his hands.

"I love this face," he stated. "I love this nose. I love those gorgeous blue eyes. I could die in them."

I blinked slowly, feeling comfort and ease.

"I love these lips," Harry continued between kisses. "These...soft...full...kissable...lips.

"I love the way you touch me. The way you look at me, like you're looking at me right now. I love your laugh, your skin, your hands, your voice. I can't get enough of you, baby. When I'm with you...I'm whole."

"Harry..."

I pulled him down to the rug with me, his mouth capturing mine over and over. I ran my fingers down his torso, finding the bottom of his shirt. Harry reached behind and grabbed it, taking it off and throwing it on the sofa behind him. I let him to do the same to my shirt, removing all of my articles of clothing piece by piece.

He entered me with such a deep groan that his back trembled underneath my hands. Our bodies rocked back and forth on my rug, my eyes rolling back as I got close to reaching orgasm. I gasped for breath as he thrust deeper. I felt completely full. Full of him. Full of love.

"Roni..." he breathed fast in my ear. "Oh, God. Ohhh, I love you. So much."

I laid on top of him after he came, rolling me over with him. I traced his tattoos with my fingers, then made a trail up his neck to his chin and lips.

"Baby..." he said, his voice raspy.

"Yes?" I asked.

He raked his fingers down my back and kissed the top of my head.

"I wanna love you forever," he declared. "I'm going to. And I don't ever want you to doubt the way I feel. Because I want to spend the rest of my life showing you."

Once again, he left me speechless. I scooted up his body, pressing a soft kiss next to his eyebrow that was still a little bruised and scratched.

"I can't wait," I managed to whisper.

A month later // Harry

Roni and I loved our new jobs. I wasn't really sure how I'd feel about being a salesman. Turns out, I'm really good at convincing people they need something. Roni was a pro at being the boss' secretary. And if it was possible, I was even more turned on by her.

Alice and Caleb were seeing each other. It was kind of funny, really. Neither of them wanted to divulge too much information, but if Roni or I teased them by saying sorry it hadn't worked out, perhaps we should find some other dates for them, they would convince us they liked each other and didn't wanna date other people.

Tonight, we were going out. The four of us. Originally it was my plan to take Roni out to L'Colombe Diore, the restaurant I took her to on our first date, but she'd insisted we bring Alice and Caleb along. She said since it had been so special for us, she reckoned it might be just as special for them. I humoured her. She was just so darn cute playing matchmaker.

"I told Alice we'd probably leave here at 7:30," she said, putting her earrings on.

"Sounds good," I nodded.

She looked at me through the reflection in the mirror.

"Are we going to walk by the river?" she asked.

"Why?"

"Because we did that last time," she said.

"Yeah but that was just us. Kinda hard to have a romantic stroll with another couple."

"Not if they stay on their side."

I burst out laughing, stepping up behind her and wrapping my arms around her waist.

"What's so funny?"

"You," I kissed her head. "You're a romantic."

"I am now."

"Why?"

She turned around in my arms, throwing hers around my neck. "Because I have you."

I leant down and kissed her lips softly.

"I sure hope you kiss me better than that at the Thames," she quipped.

"What?" I laughed.

"Just saying. That was one of the best kisses I've ever had."

"It was?" I raised a brow.

"You came home with me that night, didn't you?"

"Ah. Here I thought it was because of the wine."

"Harry Styles!" she playful slapped my arm.

I chuckled as I took her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. "Let's go baby. Let's see if we can make another couple as happy and as in love as we are."

"I dunno if that's possible," Roni remarked. "But I'll try."

THE END

Hope you enjoyed this little story. Don't forget to check out the playlist as well. xo

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

4 notes · View notes

julemmaes · 3 years ago

Text

The One Good Thing

Rowaelin Month, Day Two

A/N: again, I'm gonna fail all my exams because of this stupid app, I'm sure. Also, I miss the off campus boys so much I kinda made Fenrys one of them and I love the idea of the tog men as hockey players so yeah, enjoy;)

Word count: 2,581

Aelin would have killed for a second of silence.

She daydreamed of that almost noisy quiet that makes you feel every deepest thought hidden in your brain that exists only at 3 a.m., when every soul is resting and cars can't drive around the campus. And there are no children screaming at the top of their lungs or parties going on all night long.

That was what she had been promised, the flyers she'd been handed during the open days, when she had come to visit the college.

That was how it was supposed to be.

Aelin had tried so many times to ask her upstairs flatmate to hold his Twitch live streams strictly in the afternoons or mornings when she wouldn't be home, but when Fenrys Moonbeam had first opened the door to his place, the girl had known immediately that she wouldn't be able to change his mind even by paying him.

Especially since his live streams were followed by such a large audience that Aelin couldn't even begin to understand how he had managed to build an empire so big in just under a month. Surely it had something to do with the long blond hair, different from her own but just as beautiful, and the arms covered in tattoos so colourful they blind you. They had their own charm. Add to the pile the fact that he was the goalie on the hockey team, and he was the perfect mix for the guy to marry.

From what their common friends had told her, he was already earning enough to afford an off-campus home, but that he liked the comfort the college dorm gave.

A comfort that Aelin, after three years in those filthy rooms and shared bathrooms, had yet to find.

When yet another howl of celebration at yet another victory that everyone expected pierced through his floor and her ceiling, nearly drilling her eardrums, Aelin gritted her teeth so hard that for a moment she feared they might shatter.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to whisper, "Shut," failed miserably to keep her tone under control and shrieked the second word, "up!"

A booming laugh rang out upstairs and a millisecond later a message lit up her phone screen.

From Lys: Girl, maybe you should take a chill pill, I heard you on the live stream. Are you still studying?

She tossed the phone to the side, pulling her hair up and pinning it back with a pencil.

"Fuck off." she muttered under her breath.

Lysandra was one of the few in their group of friends who never missed a Fenrys broadcast. Whether it was at eleven at night or five in the morning, she was always one of the first to join in.

Aelin often wondered if she was just doing it because Fenrys was helping her sponsor her YouTube channel, but then she remembered that Lysandra would do the same for all her friends.

She got out of bed, taking all her books and notes in her arms, pen in her mouth and holding her phone between her pinky and ring fingers. She threw open the door to her room and found herself facing a wall of muscle, slamming into her roommate's chest.

Rowan's hands snapped forward and kept her from falling backwards and when Aelin looked up at his face, she almost lost her balance again.

His face was sleepy, only one eye open as he suppressed a yawn. The imprint of the pillowcase on his cheek just another sign that he had already been sleeping.

"Are you okay?" he asked her in a hoarse voice, stepping back and letting her through, "I heard you screaming. I was coming to check on you."

Aelin grimaced, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

He shook his head, moving a hand in mid-air, "Don't worry about it." then his gaze snapped to the ceiling as another laugh from Fenrys cut through the thin material dividing their quarters. He frowned, lowering his gaze back to her, and it was at that moment that he noticed the books in her arms.

If possible, his frown deepened even more.

He closed his eyes, gently grabbing her wrist and leaning against the wall behind him, pulling her towards him.

Aelin let herself be tugged, arranging the books so that they didn't poke at either her or him in that uncomfortable hug, but she positioned her head against his chest, letting his fingers expertly massage the nape of her neck.

"Baby." he sighed into her hair. Her toes curled.

It had only been a few weeks since they had decided to start dating, a few weeks since Rowan had confessed to having feelings for her. They had exchanged a few kisses in secret from their friends, wanting to enjoy that first phase of their very fresh relationship in privacy. They hadn't done anything too steamy yet, and Aelin had more than agreed with his decision to take it slow, but one thing Rowan hadn't held back in the slightest from the first second she'd agreed to go out with him had been the pet names he'd given her whenever they were in the safety of their dorms.

Baby was definitely her favourite.

His hands slid lower, down her back, and she looked up, resting her chin on his chest and fixing her eyes in his. His gaze softened, still clouded with sleep. "You shouldn't be studying at this hour."

Aelin grunted, smacking her forehead against his chest, "But I have a test tomorrow."

Rowan sighed again, pushing her away and taking the books from her arms. "Precisely why you should be sleeping." He walked towards the common room, speaking softly and hoping Lorcan wouldn't hear them. They both knew their roommate suspected something, but he didn't have enough worries in the world for him to actually give a shit about their possible relationship, and they also knew he would never say anything to anyone. Maybe to Elide, but neither of them would bet on it. "I left you alone tonight because you needed to rest, not stay up until morning melting your brain."

She followed him like a lost dog, dragging her feet on the ground, finally feeling that visceral fatigue get the better of her.

"I can't leave the study half done."

Rowan dropped the books on the table, turning around just in time to block her before she bumped into him again and slipped the pencil out of her mass of hair, letting it fall around her shoulders.

"You're not leaving the study half done," he told her as he rubbed her arms to keep her warm, "you've spent the last five weeks studying this stuff and I'm sure you know it like the abc. You need a break." he told her.

Aelin looked up at him from under her lashes, a little annoyed that that was true, but completely distracted by the lines his fingers were drawing on her arms. She took a deep breath through her nose, puffing out her chest and thrusting out her breasts, catching the attentive gaze of her almost-boyfriend for a nanosecond.

He smiled wearily at her, "Are you sleeping in my bed tonight?"

Aelin just nodded and took both of his hands, pulling him down onto her. Rowan squinted his eyes and placed his lips on hers in a quick, chaste kiss. She hummed in satisfaction as his hands slid under her bottom and wrapped around her thighs, pulling her up. She tied her legs around his hips and rested her head on his shoulder as Rowan made his way into their tiny flat.

He lowered her onto the bed, pulling the blankets out from under her body and laying down beside her before covering them both. Aelin moved as close to him as she could, pressing her back against his chest and her butt against his crotch, tangling their legs together.

Rowan's arm wrapped around her waist as the other slipped under her head and his hand found hers under the pillow.

The second they were settled, every bit of their bodies touching, Rowan left a soft kiss on her shoulder, pulling her even tighter against him.

She smiled weakly, in a drawling tone, "Thank you."

He hummed against her skin, "That's what I'm here for."

"Don't let me die around finals time?" she asked in a teasing tone.

Rowan chuckled softly, making her back shake, "Exactly."

Aelin tried to turn towards him, wanting to trace the pale freckles that were starting to sprout on his nose now that the days were getting longer and the sun kissed his cheek every afternoon, but his arms blocked her.

"No, it's not fair for you to be the big spoon every night. I'm fucking sick of it, I want to hold you today." he muttered, the chains of sleep already dragging him towards that blissful unconsciousness.

She huffed, stopping struggling against his grip, relaxing and feeling her muscles scream with pleasure after being tense for hours on end while she studied.

She hadn't realised she'd stayed up so long, but she was terrified of failing this last exam. If she failed it she would have to wait months before she could retake it and the idea of it was getting her down more than perhaps it should have.

She started thinking about the various questions the professors might ask her the next day, repeating the answers in her mind, closing her eyes as she thought.

"Baby," Rowan grumbled, "you're talking out loud."

She hadn't realised she was biting the cuticles around her nails until his hand came to rest on her arm, pulling her hand away from her mouth. He took a deep breath, helping her turn to face him.

When she looked up at him from under her lashes, she saw the way he was fighting sleep. And she felt terribly guilty. If she was having trouble sleeping the day before an exam, that didn't mean he had to stay awake for her too.

She was about to speak, tell him to close his eyes again and let her go into the living room so she could finish going over the last few pages and then return to his room, but he put his hand on her cheek and in a soft voice asked, "What's bothering you?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, shaking her head, "Nothing."

He tried to hold back a yawn again, but couldn't this time and Aelin's guilt grew immensely inside her. "If you tell me right now what's wrong, I could help you fix it sooner. And we could get at least three hours of sleep before we have to go to class." he pointed out in an exhausted tone.

She blinked once, twice, searching for the right words.

"It's Fen. If he'd stop playing so late every night-"

Rowan quickly cut her off, closing his eyes, almost as if he could no longer physically stay awake. "Ace, Fenrys never really bothered you. You've always managed to study and ignore it. What is it that's bothering you?"

Aelin let go of a shaky breath, "It's nothing, really. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

He only opened one eye, watching her carefully as she hid her face against his chest and wrapped her thin arms around his torso.

His hand began to slowly massage her back, "If we don't talk about this now I'll be up all night worrying."

She huffed, knowing full well how true those words were. For the love of the other, she began to ramble on about the real reason she hadn't been able to focus on the textbooks.

"I don't want to tell anyone we're together yet," she confessed under her breath.

Rowan opened both eyes then, fixing them on her and giving a small nod with his chin to keep her going.

"It's not that I don't want to tell the others," she said, referring to their closest friends, "but the second they find out, the news will become public knowledge and there are some people I really don't want to let that information get to."

He nodded, understanding perfectly who she was talking about.

"We don't have to tell anyone," he kissed her forehead, continuing to talk in that position, his lips brushing against her skin with every word he spoke, "it'll be our little secret for some time more, until we figure out how to get all the puck bunnies off our backs."

Aelin smiled, lifting her chin and kissing him.

Being the captain of the hockey team, Rowan didn't exactly go unnoticed on campus. Not many people approached him during the day, especially when Lorcan was at his side, knowing full well that they would receive nothing but a rude invitation to leave, but their friend couldn't spend his life attached to Rowan's hip, and the few times the two of them had gone out alone it had happened that a horde of fans had overwhelmed them. After those afternoons, Aelin had found herself the victim of not so nice threats from unknown numbers, as had happened to Lysandra when she had first started dating Aedion.

With Manon's help they had managed to track down the senders and Rowan had been unpleasantly surprised to discover that it was one of the girls he always partied with after the games. A girl he'd always considered a friend.

Rowan had taken all the blame, feeling responsible for those attacks on Aelin and it had taken months to convince him that he had no part in the insanity of others.

They'd started limiting the dates they went on as a pair, even when they were just friends, to prevent similar things from happening again, but Aelin felt trapped.

And she knew it was the same for Rowan.

She wished she could get a place off campus, where she could retreat with him, away from the prying eyes of the world, but it didn't seem right to bring up the topic of 'let's move in together' after not even three months of dating.

Rowan rested a hand on her cheek, moving a strand of hair behind her ear, "It'll be fine. And if anyone finds out and the threats come back, we'll do something about it."

She nodded, not entirely convinced and not at all reassured.

He knew instantly, "Aelin, whatever happens, I don't care what others think. I've waited years to finally have you. I've been on the sidelines all this time, watching you go on date after date with everyone and never with me-"

"You never asked," she mumbled in annoyance.

Rowan continued as if she hadn't spoken, "I would have preferred not to be the talk of the town all the time, but I'm not going to let public opinion take away the one good thing in my life."

She opened her mouth wide, "What about hockey?"

He shrugged, looking at her, "Hockey is just a sport."

"If Lorcan could hear you right now..." she shook her head.

"But Lorcan's not here. And you won't tell him," he made her silently promise.

They exchanged another brief kiss, before they carried on talking about all the worries she had and every word that came out of his lips acted as a sedative for her fears, killing one at a time, until she fell asleep in his arms, lulled by his soft breathing on her neck.

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send me an ask)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @hellasblessed @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @terrible-and-proud @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @thewayshedreamed @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09 @januarystears @rowaelinismyotp @starbornsinger @bookstantrash @thegreyj

#rowaelin month #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowaelin month day two #tog #throne of glass #rowaelin fic

179 notes · View notes

hercleverboy · 4 years ago

Text

persistence

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ when spencer finds out that the reader has a stalker, he is determined to not let history repeat itself.

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ stalker-like activity, death threats, few swear words, descriptions of blood, puking, spencer being kinda emotionally manipulative

word count ↠ 8.2k

“Normality is a paved road. It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow.”-- Vincent Van Gogh

Y/N stared down at the letter in her hands. Her fingers trembled, tears blurring her vision as she reread the words over and over. Written in an ominous red ink, a chicken-scratch-like writing filled the page.

‘If I can’t have you, no one can.’

It had all started two months ago.

First, it was the dark blue Sedan that she began noticing sat across the street from her apartment complex. Of course it easily could’ve belonged to one of the many people who lived in the complex, or perhaps even a friend of theirs. At first, it went unnoticed by her. It was only when she started taking note of the hours it was parked there that she began to get slightly concerned.

8am to 8pm. Every single day.

Like clockwork.

She’d peak through her living room curtains at 8am, and watch the car pull into its usual spot. It wouldn’t move all day but as soon as it struck 8pm, it left again- only to return the next day.

However, ever the sceptic, she didn’t want to blow the situation out of proportion. Her mind came up with countless possibilities. The owner was staying with a friend who lived close by (but then why would the car not be there overnight?), or perhaps it was an plain-clothed officer doing some form of undercover work? Honestly, there was nothing she hadn’t considered. So while the presence of the unexplainable car was a little unnerving, it wasn’t enough to make her paranoid.

The paranoia began when sheets of paper began being posted through her letterbox. They always came between the times that the blue car was parked outside, and had only a few words on each one that was delivered.

‘I’ve been watching you, you know.’

‘You’re so beautiful.’

‘That boyfriend of yours, does he hold you like I did?’

‘Does he touch you like I did?’

Whilst they weren’t exactly threats, they were enough to set her skin alight. She was constantly looking over her shoulder, jumpy and paranoid.

Spencer noticed it, too.

He’d seen the subtle change in his girlfriend’s body language, but didn’t want to push her on the matter. He had asked once, but she’d reassured him that she was fine. So he decided that he’d let her confide in him when she was ready, but that didn’t mean that this change in behaviour didn’t make his heart ache.

He was a profiler, one of the best, he knew the behavioural tells that signalled fear.

So what was she so afraid of?

Then the phone calls started.

Y/N heard the buzz of her phone, assuming it was Spencer calling. He was out of state on a case, but he always called to check up on her, or to notify her he was almost home. Although they didn’t live together yet, Spencer spent most of his spare time at her apartment. (He’d joked once that it was because her place was bigger than his, but really it was because his work took him away from her so often that he wanted to spend any spare minute he could with her.)

Reaching for the device, she frowned as she saw ‘Unknown Number’ flash across the screen.

“Hello?”

Silence.

“Hello?”

and then she heard it.

Heavy, husky breathing on the other end of the line.

The caller didn’t speak.

Unease filled her as she pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up. She placed her phone down beside her, biting down on her bottom lip as she attempted to rationalise what’d just happened.

Probably a butt dial, or maybe even a wrong number?

She pushed it to the back of her mind, distracting herself so that she wouldn’t have to confirm what she already knew was true.

The second call came two days later.

Spencer had returned earlier that day from an exhausting but overall successful case. He hadn’t even stopped by his place after landing, instead opting to go straight to Y/N’s apartment, unable to contain his excitement of seeing her for the first time in a week.

He let himself in with the key she’d given him for their one year anniversary, as he quietly made his way into the home. He called out her name, announcing his presence so she’d know he was home.

When she didn’t come to greet him in the hallway, or even call back to let him know she’d heard him he frowned. He slipped off his shoes before moving down the hallway, his eyes finally landing on her figure in the living room. She was stood by the large window that overlooked the street below them, her phone pressed to her ear. Spencer took in her body language, noting how her shoulders were tensed, and how the hand not holding her phone was gripping tightly onto the curtains as she peaked between them.

The unknown caller hung up, and Y/N looked down at her phone in her hand, eyes welling with tears- still unaware of Spencer’s presence behind her.

“Y/N?” He asked quietly, trying not to startle her but still managing to.

She shrieked, turning around to face him, relief filling her features as she saw the familiar sight of her boyfriend. She forced a smile on her lips and pushed her worries away, wiping the tears from her cheeks quickly and hoping he hadn’t already seen them. “Spence! God, I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you were home.” She chuckled.

His frown only deepened as he moved toward her. “Is everything okay? Who was that on the phone?”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she quickly came up with an excuse. “Oh, It was no-one.” She waved it off, hoping she’d played it off well enough to ease his worry.

Once he reached her he put his arms around her, enveloping her in a tight hug, his arms around her waist. She sighed, hugging him back with her arms around his neck.

He nuzzled his face into her neck, placing a kiss there that was so soft and delicate that it almost moved her to tears. “You know you can tell me anything, right? If something’s bothering you or worrying you then you don’t have to keep it to yourself. I’m here.” He whispered.

“I know.” She whispered back, squeezing him gently to comfort herself. “Thank you.”

Truth is, she knew she could tell Spencer what was happening. She knew that he would immediately inform his team, and with their wonderful minds and Garcia’s infinite systems, they’d have their unsub within days. So what was stopping her?

or more specifically, who was stopping her?

The answer would be Maeve, the woman that Spencer once loved, who he lost so suddenly and so tragically. She’d heard what had happened, and had comforted Spencer when he cried as he told her of the only other woman he’d ever loved, apart from Y/N. He’d confided in her about Maeve around four months into their relationship, and Y/N was grateful that Spencer trusted her enough to tell her such a thing. Losing the person you loved like that? Y/N couldn’t fathom it. Her heart ached for Spencer, and the heartbreak he’d endured.

She didn’t want to worry him over what might be nothing. After what happened with Maeve, she didn’t want to make him suffer all that again, to make him think that it was all happening again. She never wanted to be the reason for his hurt, and she knew that telling him is exactly what it would do- make him anxious, worried. She knew her boyfriend like the back of her hand. He’d go into overdrive trying to protect her, to prevent what happened to Maeve from happening to her. But still, she refused to be the one that set those events into motion. She knew it was stupid, he boyfriend was in the FBI- who are exactly the type of people you’d go to if you had a stalker.

She had tried to tell him a few times but when she opened her mouth to say the words, nothing would come out.

The final straw was the letters.

The first one was pushed through her letterbox on a Friday afternoon. Spencer was at work, thankfully only on a paperwork day instead of being called for a case. There was no name or address on the front of the letter.

She felt sick. Immediately she knew it was from him. At least she presumed it was a ‘he’, from the possessive tone of voice in the notes.

She ripped it open, taking out the letter. It was a single sheet of paper, both sides filled with that chicken scratch writing. Her eyes skimmed over the words written before her, tears blurring her vision. It was a love letter. Her stalker even gave her a nickname, ‘Dove’.

‘My darling dove, you were made for me.’

‘My love for you knows no bounds.’

‘You’ve got such a beautiful laugh, I’ve heard it.’

‘And your skin, so perfect, so soft looking. I’d love to run my fingers along your-’

Y/N let the letter drop to the floor as she felt the bile rise in her throat, dashing to the bathroom and throwing up her stomach contents in the toilet.

She felt sickened. She couldn’t bring herself to read what was left of the letter, instead screwing it up and throwing it away. The words she had read haunted her, made her feel disgusting. She spent hours in the shower that night, as though she was scrubbing his filthy words off of her skin.

The letters continued, and with each one, the comments became more and more repulsive. Instead of declaring his undying love for her, her stalker began to get enraged. With each letter he became increasingly angrier, and it shook Y/N to her core.

‘You whore, I could hear your moaning for that little boyfriend of yours from across the street’

‘When I get my hands on you, you’ll be begging for me to show you mercy’

‘I’ve protected you, watched over you! I’ve taken care of you for months now and this is how you repay me?’

‘Fucking dirty slut. I’ll kill you for that.’

‘What a shame it would be for that pretty flesh to be torn so carelessly, but it seems I’ll have to teach you a lesson, dove.’

‘You’ve made a mistake, choosing him over me.’

All of those led to one final letter.

Written in red ink, eight simple words with a sinister underlying message.

‘If I can’t have you, no one can.’

Dropping the paper as though it had burned her, she desperately tried to slow the breaths that were increasing rapidly, willing the air to fill her lungs.

The realisation hit her like a freight train.

She was in danger, real danger. Now that her life had been threatened, she knew she couldn’t hide it any longer.

No matter the consequences, she had to come clean to Spencer.

She scrambled around her apartment, grabbing any evidence she had in the form of letters/threats and made sure she had her phone so she could show them the phone calls from an unknown number.

She glanced out the window to the street below. It was only midday, and she could see the familiar blue Sedan parked opposite her complex. She just had to get to her car safely, which should be a relatively easy task, given the numerous people who were walking down the bustling street- the perks of living on a main road.

She made it to her car thankfully unscathed, locking the doors behind her. She didn’t dare look across the road at the car, afraid of what, or who she would see. As she drove to the BAU, she anxiously tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. She anticipated what Spencer’s reaction was going to be- he’d be angry, definitely. Y/N was torn, she wanted to stand by the decision she’d made two months prior to not involve her boyfriend with what was going on, but now she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made a poor choice. If she’d have told Spencer earlier, things would’ve been resolved. But by telling him the truth, she couldn’t help but ponder if she was putting him or his team in danger.

Shaking her head clear the thoughts, she pulled into the car park that was next to the building. Taking a few deep breaths, she grabbed her bag and headed toward the buildings’ entrance. Her palms were sweaty and her throat was dry. What the hell was she going to say? ‘Hey Spence, I have a stalker who’s threatening to kill me that I neglected to tell you about, how’s your day going?’

After being granted access at the front desk, she was given a visitors badge and headed up to the sixth floor of the building. As she stood alone in the elevator, she tried to take a few breaths, feeling the familiar clawing at the back of her throat that indicated she was close to breaking down. She’d been holding it together for so long, been so fucking scared for so long.

As soon as the doors opened she was greeted with the smiling face of one Penelope Garcia.

When Spencer and her had begun dating he brought Y/N along to one of Rossi’s pasta nights and the whole team immediately took a liking to her, especially after seeing how happy she made Spencer. However Penelope in particular absolutely adored Y/N, and the two had even hung out together a few times.

Garcia gasped with a grin as the doors opened. “My sweet Y/N! I got the notification that you’d checked in downstairs and thought I’d come greet you!” She moved toward her, hugging Y/N tightly. “Are you here to see our boy wonder? He’s around here somewhere-” She pulled back when she noticed the tenseness in Y/N’s shoulders. When Garcia met her teary eyes she gasped at the sight. “What’s wrong?”

Y/N finally let the tears tremble down her cheeks, reaching into her bag to grab the handfuls of threating letters from the person who’d made her life hell for two long months. She handed them to Garcia, who after years of working that job knew from the first few words what they were dealing with.

Y/N met her worried eyes. “It’s bad, Penny. Really bad.”

Garcia nodded, shocked but still placing a comforting arm on Y/N’s back. “Reid- He never mentioned-”

Y/N shook her head. “I didn’t tell him. I didn’t want him to worry over nothing but- this is the first time he’s threatened my life and I’m scared, Pen. I’m really scared.”

Garcia burst into action, coaxing Y/N with gentle words to head into the bullpen. As soon as they walked through the glass doors, all of the team member’s heads turned toward them. Spencer’s eyes immediately fell on his girlfriend’s tear stained cheeks and within seconds he was by her side.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

She shook her head, moving forward and wrapping her arms around him. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her, holding her to him as she cried into his chest, her shoulders shaking as she let out everything she’d buried so deep inside.

He looked over at Garcia, bewildered. She simply walked up to Hotch’s office. The team could faintly hear Garcia presenting him with the papers Y/N had brought with her, explaining what she had told her when she arrived.

Minutes later Hotch came out of his office, walking down into the bullpen to where the team all looked at one another, confusion on their features.

“Y/N?” He asked as he approached her, and she pulled back from spencer to see him, wiping her tear stained cheeks. “You’re gonna need to tell us everything. You may be in immediate danger.”

Y/N nodded and Hotch headed off toward the round table room, Garcia scurrying in behind him. The rest of the team, with concerned glances to one another, followed into the room. This left Y/N and Spencer alone in the bullpen.

She felt Spencer gripping her hand, squeezing gently. Worry laced in his tone, he moved to stand before her and locked onto her eyes. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

Y/N nodded and cleared her throat, her voice quiet with shame as she spoke. “I have a stalker. He sends letters, calls just to breathe down the line and scare me. In his recent letter, he said he’s gonna kill me.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, his hand dropping from hers and he turning and stalked toward the board room. He had to see the evidence for himself.

He reached the room and the groups gazes all shifted to him, but he could’ve cared less. He reached out for one of the sheets of paper, eyes quickly scanning over the threatening words as Y/N entered the room behind him.

“When did this start, Y/N?” JJ asked, that caring, motherly tone present in her voice.

“About two months ago.”

“Did you notice anything odd about the neighbourhood beforehand? Cars that weren’t normally there, people stood on street corners at odd times of day?” Derek queried, his eyes scanning over some of the notes she’d received.

She nodded. “There was a car I noticed, right at the start. I didn’t think much of it until I started taking note of the timings. It would sit there all day, but be gone overnight. Then it would return the next day.”

“Do remember the colour, or make of car?”

“Yeah, a dark blue Sedan. Then a few days later the phone calls started.”

“Garcia I need you to run through Y/N’s phone records, see if you can trace the number they were calling from.” Hotch ordered and Garcia quickly left the room, heading to her bat cave.

“Here, listen to this.” JJ started, holding up one of the first letters. “I’m doing this because I love you, pretty dove. So very much. It’s okay, you’ll see.” She looked up to her team. “He’s planning something.”

Hotch turned his attention to her. “Y/N’s safety is our primary concern. This unsub seems to have fixated on her, for whatever reason. Y/N, do you have any ex boyfriends or enemies we need to know about?”

“I have five ex’s, but I don’t think any of them would be capable of this.” She reasoned, but there was a seed of doubt in the back of her mind.

At her words, Spencer stood up, slamming the letters down on the table with an audible thud before leaving the room. Y/N stared after him hopelessly, Hotch clearing his throat before speaking again.

“I’ll need a list of their names.”

Derek piped up. “We also need to know locations of spots that you frequent, anywhere you may have met this guy. Coffee shops, restaurants, even the library. No detail is too small, okay?”

Y/N nodded, turning back to stare out the door that Spencer had stormed out of moments before. “I’m just going to go check on him.” She murmured, earning an apologetic smile from JJ.

She found him outside the building, sat on one of the stone steps of the staircase that led up to the buildings entrance. He had his head in his hands, trying to calm down the thoughts that sped through his overworking mind.

She sat beside him, draping his coat that she’d grabbed from his desk over his shoulders to combat the cold winter air. “You’ll catch a cold.” She muttered, offering a small smile as he looked over at her. Despite how he felt, he let the smallest of smiles find its way onto his lips at the comment. She had a stalker threatening her life and she was worried about him catching a cold?

They sat in silence for a little before Y/N broke it. “I’m so sorry, Spencer.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault.” He mumbled, looking out to the street, watching people walk by. When Y/N didn’t answer, he spoke again. “You could’ve told me, you know?”

“I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t.” She whispered sincerely.

“Why didn’t you say something, Y/N? I would’ve dropped everything to make sure you were safe.” He promised, trying to make his voice sound strong, but failing as it cracked with his words.

“I didn’t think it was important. He wasn’t threatening at the start, and I thought I could handle it.” Now the words were leaving her mouth, she knew she sounded stupid.

“You didn’t think it was important?” Spencer repeated back to her, his breaths heavy as he failed to understand her reasoning. “Y/N you are the most important thing in the world to me. Okay? Please tell me you know that.” He turned his body toward her.

“I know. I know and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. It’s just I know- after everything that happened before with Maeve-“ She paused for a moment. “I didn’t want to worry you over nothing.”

His breath hitched when she said Maeve’s name, and Y/N could almost see him replaying the moment he lost her in his mind. The curse of an eidetic memory.

“I’m not going to let that happen to you- no, not you. Never you.” He sniffed, reaching over to take her hand in his.

She nodded, tears filling her eyes once more. She cuddled into his side, her head dropping on his shoulder. She sniffled. “I’m scared, Spencer.”

“It’s okay. He’s not coming anywhere near you, Y/N. I swear to you, he’s not going to hurt you. Not while I’m here.” He brought her hand up and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

Over the next few days, the team spent hours analysing ever piece of evidence Y/N had received, and Garcia went through tons of security footage, trying to get a good look at whoever was in the blue Sedan. She’d ran the license plates, but they’d come back as being fake, so that had been a pretty dead end, and the phone number she’d traced had come from a payphone, so there was no lead there either.

Spencer was evidently over-working himself, not taking breaks from work to eat or sleep. He reread the words a hundred times, desperately looking for what it was he must’ve missed. He was filled with this overwhelming need to protect her, to keep Y/N safe. To succeed where he’d failed previously. He couldn’t afford to make the same mistake he’d made with Maeve. He’d let his emotions cloud his judgement and it cost Maeve her life. He wouldn’t make that same mistake again.

There wasn’t time for that, not when Y/N was in danger.

Y/N spent most of her time alongside Spencer at the BAU, mostly because he insisted that she was somewhere he could keep an eye on her at all times. She only went home in the evenings so she could change and sleep in her own bed, but always with a police escort that Spencer had himself done a thorough background check on and knew could be trusted.

Eventually, It had been an entire week. Spencer had only had a handful of sleep, only when the exhaustion became too much did he pass out and actually get a few hours of sleep before he was right back at it. Members of the team who attempted to gently voice their concern for him received a scowl in response, with Y/N even trying to get through to him, but he just shrugged her off. Ultimately, Hotch had to pull him aside to talk.

Hotch walked into the room where Y/N sat reading silently in the corner while Spencer’s eyes ran over the words he’d already read a hundred times.

“Reid, Can I speak to you?”

Spencer’s head snapped up, pissed that he was being interrupted from the task before him. He grunted under his breath, standing up and walking out of the room.

Hotch brought Spencer up to his office, closing the door behind them so there was some dilution to the raised voices that were definitely going to come from this conversation. He sighed, turning to face the younger man and crossing his arms. “The Bureau don’t want us using any more of our time on this case. The unsub has been inactive for a week, and we have other cases building up that take priority.”

Spencer scoffed. “You want us to stop? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m afraid not. The order came from above me, I have no power here. The best we can do for now is send Y/N home with police protection until this guy resurfaces.”

“You wanna send her home? No way, Hotch! There’s some son of a bitch after her and you want her to be at home?” He was angrier than Hotch had seen him be in a long while.

Hotch sighed. “Reid. It’s out of my hands. I recognise how hard this is for you, but we have no choice.”

“But I- I can’t protect her if she’s not with me! I can’t keep her safe.” His tone changed from angry to more of a begging. “Please, Hotch. There’s got to be something you can do.”

“I’m sorry.”

Spencer huffed, his anger returning. “Bullshit! You know as well as I do that she’s vulnerable as soon as she leaves here. Police presence or not, if something happens to her-”

Hotch shot him a warning look, which made Spencer stop mid-sentence.

“You’re done with this case for now, understand? Until he resurfaces, we have other priorities.” Hotch spoke. Spencer scoffed, walking and brushing past his unit chief. “That’s an order, Reid.” He warned.

Spencer ignored him, heading back to the room he’d left Y/N in, his mind refocused on getting back to his previous task- despite Hotch’s orders.

He stepped into the room, slamming the door closed behind him, earning a surprised squeak from Y/N, who still sat in the corner with her book in hand. He looked over at her, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “He wants you to go home, and we have to put the case on hold because we have others to work on. Can you believe that? How could he ask that of me?” He laughed humourlessly as Y/N shut her book, placing it next to her.

She sighed, standing, knowing he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

It was just the protective side of him coming out, and at first Y/N thought it was endearing, but he couldn’t neglect his own needs to favour hers any more. She wouldn’t let him.

“Spencer, you gotta stop this. I know how hard you’re working, and I’m so grateful, but you’re killing yourself here.” Her voice was gentle, hoping she’d be able to appeal to him.

“No! No Y/N I’m not stopping until we get this guy, until you’re safe.” He snapped.

“You heard what Hotch said, you have other cases that need to take priority.” She moved toward him, still trying to reason with him. She was still scared to death, and she didn’t particularly want to leave Spencer’s side- after all he made her feel safe. But there were people who needed him and his team, and if she was no longer in imminent danger, his talents were needed elsewhere. It made her feel sick, but it’s the way it was. They were just going to have to wait for this guy to make his next move.

“But Y/N, you are my priority. Don’t you get that?” He asked, moving back as she came toward him. The motion hurt her, so she stood still.

“I do, I promise you I do, but there’s people out there who need that beautiful mind of yours more than I do right now.”

He scoffed. “So you just expect me to give up?”

“Of course not, but Hotch is right. What if this guy never makes any other moves? What if he just wanted to scare me? You can’t waste your time. It’s too valuable.”

“And what if the second you walk out of those doors he gets you?” Spencer shouted, his arms coming out by his sides to exaggerate his point.

“Then you’ll find me. If that happened, which is a worse-case scenario, I have faith that you and this team would find me and bring me home.”

“And if I can’t? If I fail, again? If I have to watch you die like I watched-” His breath hitched, his voice catching. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “No, No. I will not lose you, do you understand? I will not stop looking for this son of a bitch, not ever. I’m not letting you go home, Y/N. I’m sorry, that’s final.”

“Spencer, you can’t keep me here. You’d be disobeying Hotch’s direct orders-”

He shook his head. “I’m not having this conversation with you, Y/N. I’ll talk to Hotch, change his mind. Just- stay here. Please.” The last word was quiet and pleading, a stark contrast from the tone he was using before. He picked up the evidence files he was going through and walked away, feet stomping as his anger still radiated off of him.

Y/N had stood there for a minute, collecting herself before she took a shaky deep breath, bringing her hand up to wipe the tears that trickled down her cheeks.

She walked out to the bullpen, ignoring how Spencer had asked her to stay. Her eyes met Derek’s who offered her an apologetic smile.

“Hey.” He called out to her as she passed by. “Whatever the kid said, he didn’t mean it. He just wants to keep you safe.”

She gave a sad smile. “I know. Um, is it alright if I just step out the front for some air? I’m feeling a little boxed in.”

“Sure thing. I’ll keep you company, make sure you get back alright.” He stood up from his desk chair, grabbing his jacket and accompanying her downstairs.

When they got there Y/N turned to him. “Is it alright if I have a moment alone? I’ll stay where you can see me, I just need a minute.”

Derek was hesitant, but nodded. She pushed open the doors, out into the cold night. She remained stood by the front doors, where they bright lights from indoors seeped outside, lighting up the pavement. She took a few deep breaths, letting the cold air fill her lungs, hoping it’ll help alleviate the stinging pain in her heart. She looked up at the sky, willing herself to keep her tears at bay. She appreciated what Spencer was doing, and adored his instinct to protect her, keep her safe. She knew how stubborn he could be at times, but now she thought about it, maybe when she sided with Hotch earlier it made it seem like she didn’t have his back, which was certainly not the case.

Derek watched as Y/N collected herself, seeing that she was about to turn and come back inside. Suddenly someone bumped into his side, his attention turning from Y/N to the person who collided with him. He looked over to see a young man he didn’t recognise.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going. My apologies.” The man apologised before walking off.

Derek furrowed his brow, before turning back to look outside.

Y/N wasn’t there.

He bolted forward toward the doors, flinging them open and looking left and right for any sight of her.

She was long gone. And so was whoever took her.

Hearing a crinkle beneath his feet, Derek looked down at the sound, noticing a scrap piece of newspaper on the floor where Y/N had been stood.

He picked it up, unfolding the paper. On it, written in the familiar blood red chicken scratch was the same threatening message Y/N had received before.

‘If I can’t have her, no one can.’

Derek placed the paper down on the roundtable, that the team was now gathered around, shock and worry on their faces.

Hotch closed his eyes with a sigh as he looked at the paper, guilt rushing over him. Just then Spencer came into the room, immediately picking up on the mood that had settled over the team.

“What’s’‘-” His eyes landed on the message, the realisation spreading over his features. “Where’s Y/N?” He asked, a sort of denial in his voice.

“He has her.” Derek confirmed, bowing his head down in shame that he hadn’t protected her like he was supposed to.

“Morgan, What happened? You took her out to get some air and then what?” Emily asked, trying to establish where it’d gone wrong.

“I took my eyes off of her for a minute, some guy bumped into me and it distracted me, and when I looked back she was gone.”

Emily’s mouth opened as she connected the dots. “It must’ve been a distraction, one guy bumps into you so that you take your eyes off of her while the other guy grabs her.”

“So what, we’re looking for a partner here as well?” JJ posed, looking up at her team.

“It would seem so. He waited for his opportunity, and when it came he took it.” Rossi chimed in.

“This is now an active investigation, we have a missing woman who’s already been gone for nearly an hour. We’ve got to work fast.” Hotch ordered, which sent the team out of their seats, each with a task assigned to them. However, Spencer still sat in one of the chairs, trembling fingers trailing over the words before him. The air in the room seemed thinner, his lungs working harder to fill themselves.

“Reid? Reid.” Morgan tried, but all he got from Spencer was little incoherent mumbles.

Finally, he looked up to meet Morgan’s eyes, the words he’d been whispering falling from his lips in a more audible whimper. “He’s gonna kill her.” He choked on his words, the realisation crashing down on him. “I’m going to lose her too.”

Time was a precious thing.

Spencer had never been more aware of how quickly the seconds passed than he was at that moment.

He was on his knees, hunched over the toilet, hands gripping the sides in a vice-like grip, desperately trying to push down the nauseating feeling creeping its way up his throat. After the note that Morgan found, Spencer had rushed into the toilets, standing over the toilet bowl as he dry-heaved, holding himself back from being sick. He took heavy breaths, eyes screwing shut as he tried to think of anything other than the danger that Y/N was in.

He tried so hard to ignore the familiarity of the situation.

The thought set in motion a memory that he’d much rather forget, one that he pushed so far back in his mind so he could deny it had ever happened, that he’d ever allowed it to happen.

Ultimately, it was the curse of his brilliant memory, having the ability to perfectly recall things that happened years before.

As if he could ever forget that day, eidetic memory or not.

“Diane, Diane, there’s still a way out of this.”

“You never wanted me. Never! You lied!”

Diane has her arm around Maeve, gun pointed at her head. The bullet she’d shot into Spencer’s shoulder felt numb, the scorching pain felt irrelevant to the fear spiking his heart.

“I didn’t. Diane, I offered you a deal and you can still take it. Me for her. Let me take her place.” His eyes lock on Maeve’s, so full of fear, and he tries to reassure that she’ll be fine- because he knows she will. How many times has he talked down an unsub waving a gun around? She would be okay, she had to be.

“You would do that?”

“Yes.”

“You would kill yourself for her?”

“Yes.”

Of course he would. In a heartbeat.

“Thomas Merton.”

Maeve’s voice was small but sure. What scared Spencer the most was how certain she sounded, as though she’d accepted that this was her fate; her end.

“Who’s Thomas Merton?”

“He knows.”

She loved him. And he loved her. Oh how bittersweet.

“Who’s Thomas Merton, who is he?”

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us.”

Its only a moment’s hesitation, a moment that he should’ve reached for a gun, a moment where he should’ve taken his shot.

“No.” Diane scowled.

Time is a precious thing.

and Maeve’s was up.

“Wait-”

The shot still rung clear in Spencer’s ears, a sound he was sure he would hear for the rest of his days. His breaths were heaving again, his eyes flying open as he willed the image of Maeve’s body to leave his head. But when his eyes screwed shut again, it was someone else in her place.

It wasn’t Maeve’s body on the floor anymore. Instead, in her place lay Y/N, blood gushing from the open wound at the side of her head, her lifeless body cold against the concrete floor.

That’s the thought that made him sick, throwing up into the toilet at the thought of watching Y/N die the same way he watched Maeve.

Taking gasping breaths, he sat back against the side of the cubicle, hands running down his flustered face, feeling the streaks of tears that trembled down his cheeks.

He shook his head, as if that would erase the horrific thoughts swimming around. He reminded himself that Y/N was still alive, and they had no reason as of yet to believe that she wasn’t. It was that thought that made him pull himself to stand, raking his hands through his hair and trying to calm his quivering hands.

Y/N was still out there, waiting for him to save her.

He grit his teeth together as he walked out of the toilets.

He wouldn’t hesitate this time. He was not going to lose her.

He walked back into the roundtable room, ignoring the looks he received from the team. They had been bouncing theories off of one another, trying to use their profile to figure out who their unsub was, and where they would’ve taken Y/N.

“Is it possible a woman is our unsub, or perhaps even the partner?” Emily posed, her eyes scanning over one of the letters.

Derek shook his head. “I don’t think a woman would use language like this, it’s very derogatory, it exerts a power over Y/N.”

The team fell quiet in thought, only interrupted when Garcia came scurrying in, her laptop in her hands. “You’ll never guess what I just found!”

Everyone looked up to her, Hotch speaking. “What is it, Garcia?”

“I looked over the list of Y/N’s exes, and only one of them jumped out to me as a little suspicious. So I did some digging.” She tapped a few keys on her laptop before grabbing her remote and broadcasting to the team what she’d found on the TV. “Daniel ‘Danny’ Stone, 29, dated Y/N three years ago. He was her last boyfriend before she met Reid.”

“Three years? You don’t think he’s still bitter about the relationship ending?” Emily asked, confused.

“Three years is a long time. Why surface now?” JJ chimed.

“Reid, did Y/N ever mention her previous relationship ending on a rough note?” Rossi asked, turning to face the younger boy.

Spencer frowned. “She said the breakup was a little rocky, but nothing awful. The last time she spoke about him was a few months ago, said he got in some sort of accident?” He looked to Garcia for confirmation, and she nodded.

“Indeed. Stone was involved in a road collision four months ago.”

JJ hummed, looking through the medical reports on her iPad. “Says here he suffered brain damage, specifically to his pre-frontal cortex.”

“Well that would explain why this stalker seemingly came from nowhere. People who suffer damage like this are impulsive, unable to make rational choices.” Derek posed.

“So what’s the theory here? He wakes up after this accident, and because of his injury chooses to track down his ex? Three years after they break up?”

Morgan shook his head. “It isn’t a choice. Not anymore. He has to do it. He’s become fixated on her. He knows she’s with Reid, and like he said, If he can’t have her, the neither can Reid.”

“Okay, but why stalk her? What does he gain from that? Instead of just taking her and getting what he really wants?” Emily questioned.

“This newfound impulsivity would make him a risk-taker. He’ll do things that the average person wouldn’t dream of trying. But it’s unlikely that Stone actually staked out Y/N’s home, or delivered the letters to her door. He wouldn’t have the self-control to span this out over months. He just pulled the strings.”

“So that was his partner, then.” JJ deduced, earing nods from the team. “Then what does the partner gain from this? Why help Stone?”

“Maybe Stone manipulated them. Perhaps he has some form of information on them he’s using as blackmail?”

“Did you get an address on Stone, Garcia?” Hotch asked, and Garcia nodded enthusiastically.

“You know I did, It’s already been sent to your phones.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

The team all stood, heading for the doors. Spencer was quick to get up and follow, hope sparking in him now that they had an address. He was just about to leave the room when Hotch’s voice stopped him.

“Reid, you know I can’t let you come with us.” His voice was firm, he knew there could be no room for error here. Not after what happened last time.

“Like hell you can’t.” Reid snapped, turning around to face him. He’d regret his smart mouth later when Hotch undoubtedly told him off for it, but at that moment who couldn’t have cared less.

“We will get her and bring her home, but you can’t be involved in this. It’s a conflict of interest, you know that.”

“Oh, so it wasn’t a conflict of interest when you went after Foyet?”

It was a cheap shot, one that Spencer really regretted the second he said it, but amends could be made later.

Hotch’s face didn’t falter, despite the petty jab. “Yeah, and look where that got me.”

Spencer’s defesnive stance dropped, his arms falling by his sides. “Hotch. You were there when when Maeve died. Do you remember it?”

“Of course.”

“Not like I do. I can see every second of it every time I close my eyes. I can’t go through that again. I almost didn’t make it out the other side, If it happened again I don’t know if I could cope-” He stopped, his voice catching in his throat. “Just- Please.”

Hotch grunted, giving in. “Fine, but you can’t allow your emotions to cloud your thinking. I know it will be difficult but I need your head to be in this.Y/N’s life depends on it.”

Spencer nodded and they headed down toward the SUV’s.

They pulled up to the address, lights blaring and sirens sounding. They all quickly jumped out and regrouped, strapping their kevlar vests to their chests as they moved. They were stood in front of an abandoned apartment complex, one that had ben uninhabited for years.

“Alright Morgan, Prentiss I want you to go around the back, find a way in through there, see if you can find this partner of his. JJ, Rossi and Reid you’re with me. ” Hotch ordered, as they all drew their guns and prepared to head in.

As they stealthily walked through the building, they listened for any noise that indicated where the unsub was. Hotch, who was leading the group, pushed open a door to the staircase, and they were about to head up when they heard a bang coming from the floor below them.

They headed down the stairs, seeing that they were entering the buildings basement. They rounded the corner, guns at the ready, and stepping into a small boiler room.

In the centre of the room, Daniel stood. He held a struggling Y/N to his chest, his arm around her neck and gun placed at her temple.

Spencer recalled how it the sight was all too familiar, how Diane had held Maeve the same way.

Daniel’s voice broke him from his thoughts. “If you step any closer, she dies.”

“Okay, okay. We’ll stay back, but I need you to put down the gun.” Hotch tried, shooting a look over his shoulder to Spencer, a look that told him to stay put.

Daniel shook his head. “No. You’re going to ruin everything!”

“Ruin what?” JJ asked.

“My chance do what’s right. Y/N doesn’t want me. But I love her, can’t she see that? I would do anything for her, and still she would choose him over me?” Daniel’s eyes moved to meet with Spencer’s, narrowing.

“Daniel, we know what you went through. We know about your accident, how you’ve felt so out of control since, but if you come with us we can get you the help you need.” Rossi was next to attempt to convince him, but to no avail.

“No- No!” Daniel scowled, clenching his teeth as his gaze fixated on Spencer, who’s eyes were locked with Y/N’s, trying to silently reassure her that she was going to be okay. “She’s mine. I protected her, I’ve looked out for her. She’s finally going to understand.” He looked down at Y/N, his grip on her tightening, causing her to let out a frightened yelp.

Spencer gulped, tearing his gaze from Y/N and onto the unsub, putting on a strong and unbothered facade. He wouldn’t let himself be clouded by his emotions, not this time. “You’re right. You kept her safe, and I’m very grateful that you protected her when I failed to.”

“Thats right. You failed her. I’m so much better for her.” He seethed through his teeth. “ And that’s why, if she won’t chose me, she’ll have to die with me.”

“You don’t want to do that, Daniel. Put down the gun. We’ll bring you in, and if you tell us all about this partner of yours, we’ll tell everyone that you co-operated.” JJ suggested, her gun still aimed up at him.

“Why are you doing this?” Y/N gasped out, still struggling against his hold.

“Because if I can’t have you, the neither can he. No, No.” He grinned, bringing the gun up to his his own head. From where it was angled, the bullet would pass through his own head, and lodge itself in Y/N’s too. “You’re mine, Y/N.”

This time, Spencer didn’t hesitate.

One single gunshot.

Daniel collapsed to the floor, a bullet between his eyes.

Y/N fell to the ground with him in a fit of sobs, scrambling to get away from the man who lay dead on the floor, the pool of blood growing around him.

Spencer holstered his gun, immediately surging forward to wrap a trembling Y/N up in his arms.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you, you’re safe.” He cooed, rubbing a hand on her back in a soothing manner.

She sobbed into his chest as he held her, tears forming in his own eyes at the sound of her cries. But Spencer allowed himself a moment to breathe, looking over Y/N’s shoulder at the man he’d just shot without hesitation.

And he’d wouldn’t be losing any sleep over it, either.

He tightened his arms around her, thankful that she was safe. He brought her up to stand, his arms still tight around her. He looked toward his teammates, nodding gratefully at them as he walked Y/N out of the building. As he passed, he overheard JJ and Hotch’s conversation.

“Emily and Morgan found the partner fleeing out the back. They say he’s agreed to talk.”

With an internal sigh of relief, he held Y/N closer as they stepped out the doors of the building, guiding her toward the medical staff so she could be checked for injuries, despite how she told him she was fine. After it was concluded that she’d come out pretty unscathed, with only a few cuts and bruises, Spencer came and sat down next to her. She smiled weakly up at him, and he knew it would take a while for her usual bright smile to return, but she was alive- and right then that was all that mattered.

He immediately took her hand in his, gripping it tightly.

“Is it over?” She asked quietly, and he nodded.

“Yeah, they got the partner, and he’s going to co-operate in return for a reduced sentence, but he’ll still be going away for a long time.”

She nodded, her head dropping onto his shoulder. “Thank you so much, Spencer. You saved me.” She whispered.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m sorry about the argument we had, I was being a jerk. I just wanted to protect you, but in the end you still ended up getting hurt.” He frowned, looking down at the gravel ground.

“It’s okay, I understand. I’m sorry you had to relive all of this again, I can’t imagine how difficult that must’ve been for you.” She sighed, guilt overwhelming her.

“Hey, no. You’re safe, that’s all that matters.” He promised and she nodded against him.

Giving her hand a squeeze, he turned slightly to press a lingering kiss to her forehead.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #criminal minds

779 notes · View notes

beccascribbles · 4 years ago

Text

where atsumu is a notorious playboy and now he wants you

a/n - you won't believe how long i've been working on this and it's finally finished... anyway, just wanted to say a quick thank you for 700 followers! it means a lot! hope you enjoy this little atsumu fic

warnings - nsfw (sex, swearing), possibly a little angsty?, toxic relationship

word count - 4.1k

sequel ‘returning the favour’, where atsumu gets a taste of his own medicine

When your friends warned you away from him, you should have known he was bad news, should have known to avoid him, to shut down any conversation and walk away.

When a random girl approached you in the university library and warned you away from him, told you what he had done to her, how he ignored her feelings and hooked up with another girl in front of her, the alarm bells should have started to ring.

When the very thought of introducing him to your parents filled you with dread, you should have known any kind of relationship with him was impossible. Introducing a boyfriend to your parents was nerve-wracking, yes, but you had done it before and the most severe emotion you had felt then was nerves. It was nothing compared to the dread that curled in your belly at the mere thought of ever introducing him.

But Miya Atsumu pulled you in.

Despite all the warnings, you were blinded by his easy charm, the smirk that would pull at the corners of his lips as he teased you, how comfortable he looked in every situation, as if he knew the power he held over those around him. He attracted girls and boys like a moth to a flame. In fact, he burned so brightly it was inevitable that you would get hurt at some point, feel his scathing dismal like a punch to the chest.

Truthfully, you were not planning on falling for him, not even planning to interact with the new face in your lectures. He had attracted enough attention, and you, the ever focused and diligent student, could not afford the distraction. So, while others flocked to him, you initially kept a wide berth, hurrying from lectures with your books clutched to your chest to grab at seat at the library. It would be a lie to say he had not noticed you through the crowds. You were either the first to leave the lecture hall, or one of the only students to approach the professor after class to ask questions and gather some more information about the subject. He admired the dedication you had, your unwavering focus. At the same time, he wanted to be the reason that focus, that dedication, finally broke.

On the day he finally approached you, the weather had been unpleasant. Rain had attacked you the entire walk to class, the raincoat you had on a flimsy barrier. Coupled with the harsh wind that had been blowing, it was nearly impossible for the hood of your coat to cover your head, leaving you with the look of a drowned rat and a very disgruntled one at that. The rain had soaked through your backpack, leaving you with a dripping notebook. You had to be thankful that you had transferred all the sheets of paper you had written on into a binder that had kept the paper mercifully dry. So, as you had sought out a radiator to dry your things on, he had approached you, looking effortlessly handsome... and dry.

“Want to borrow some paper, sweetheart?” he asked, waving his dry notebook at you, his lips upturned in a grin. His stance was casual, but the way he angled his body blocked the class from your view and also cut off your potential escape route. Though the vocative grated at you, your parents had taught you to be polite. Despite the annoyance in the lines of your body, you managed to smile back at him.

“Actually, yes,” you replied, turning back to the radiator to begin draping your wet items on the heated surface. “That would be great. Thank you.”

With your back to him, you missed the way his mouth twisted into a smirk, a playful glint appearing in his eyes. You heard the rip of paper being pulled from a notebook, then felt his warm fingers circle your wrist. You turned to face him, momentarily stunned by the lack of distance between you. His warmth, coupled with the radiator at your back, heated up your body, dispelling the cold bite the rain had left behind.

“And your payment?”he questioned running the tip of his finger along your inner wrist. The feel of his rough skin tracing the soft surface sent a tingle running through you, a traitorous flare of heat to your cheeks.

“Payment?” you scoffed, reaching for the proffered paper. He released it without a struggle, but remained close to you. It would have been so simple to trace the planes of your face, to feel the heat on your cheeks build because of his touch. Instead, he sent a lazy smirk in your direction. It should have irked you, but you found it oddly attractive, the little quirk to his lips, the intensity in has honey brown gaze. “For some paper?”

“Nothing is free these days,” he stated, reaching behind him to pull his phone from his back pocket. It dangled nonchalantly from his grip as he held it out to you. You glanced at the phone, then up at him, at his lazy expression. The way he looked at you showed he tended to get his way. There was no possibility in his mind where you returned to your seat without typing his number into your phone. “Give me your number and I’ll message you when I want to collect. I'm sure you'll enjoy it just as much as me.”

He pressed the phone into your hand. It was already unlocked and opened on a contact page. Instead of immediately typing your contact information into his phone like he assumed you would, you glanced down at the phone screen and then up at him. "Sorry, but my phone number comes at a cost as well."

He let out a low hum, leaning in closer, close enough that your noses almost touched. His eyes stared into yours, appearing to commit the colour to memory. "And what cost is that?"

“If you let me return to my seat, you might find out,” you stated, peeking over his shoulder to see that the professor was powering up the slide show. You pushed against his shoulder, creating enough space for you to walk past. As you stepped around him, you slipped his phone into his trouser pocket. He turned to watch you walk away, the smirk still present on his face.

The next time he approached you, he had orchestrated it with an obsessive perfection. With the knowledge that you always rushed to the library after class finished, he had instructed a member of the class, one of his fangirls, to deliberately bump into you as you tried to make your exit. It was amusing in a sick way how easily the girl had bent to his will. One kiss and she was weak at the knees, begging him for more. The more he had promised would be done once she completed this small task for him.

So, it was with an almost sadistic smirk on his face that he watched as the girl shouldered into you roughly, causing you to stumble and scatter your belongings across the floor. If you had only got into the habit of packing your stuff away into your backpack before leaving, you could have avoided the smirking blonde, able to quickly right yourself and continue on your way. As fate would have it, it was the muscular arms of the blonde that steadied you, his fingers gripping greedily at your waist. Offering him a quick thank you, you pulled yourself from his grip, bending down to gather the items you had dropped. Just as he had planned, you were distracted and desperate to leave, so distracted you did not notice as he took your notebook from the floor and slipped it into the open bag hanging from his shoulder. And, like he presumed, you hurried from the room without sparing him a glance.

When he decided to ambush you, you were digging through your bag, mumbling quietly under your breath as you attempted to find your notebook. It had all your class notes in it that you needed to begin your essay. Letting out a huff, you shoved your bag away from you.

"Looking for this?" asked Atsumu, notebook dangling from his fingertips as he took in your distressed form. Leaning forward, you pulled it from his grip, flicking through the pages to confirm that this was indeed your notebook.

"Where did you find it?" you asked, placing it down on the table and resting your arms on top of it as you looked up at him.

"Is that any way to thank the person who returned your class notes?"

You gave him an exaggerated, friendly smile. "Thank you. Now where did you find it?"

"The floor," he stated, a smirk tugging at his lips with his next words. "After your fall, that's where all your belongings ended up."

"I know," you snapped before turning back to the work you had been in the process of beginning. Atsumu's tall figure still loomed over the desk, his hands gripping at the edge of the table as he leaned forward to force himself into your line of sight. Your eyes narrowed into a glare. "What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"I want to take you out." The words were simple, but said in such a pleasing honeyed tone that you felt the heat rush to your cheeks. He held your gaze, awaited your reply eagerly. He knew the effect he had on you, could see it working on you right before his eyes. There was no doubt in his mind that you would say yes.

"Take me out where?" you questioned, voice coming out whisper. Your warm breath fanned against his face, made him crave a sudden closing of space between you and the parting of your lips as he pressed his against them. Truth be told, he wanted to see you come undone.

His usual method would not work on you, that much he was certain of. If he proposed a club or a bar, you would likely scoff, pull away from him, refuse his offer to take you out on a date. A restaurant however, one with a fine wine menu coupled with good food would work quite well.

"A restaurant," he said. You raised an eyebrow at his lacklustre response, expecting a more surprising proposal from the young man. "One where I can fine dine and wine the shit out of you."

“Okay,” you shrugged, feigning some level of disinterest as you pushed him lightly by the shoulder to move him out of your personal bubble. You bent to reach for a pen as you spoke. “Tell me a time and place, and I’ll meet you there.”

Atsumu blinked, unsure if he had heard you correctly. Had you just said you wanted to meet at the restaurant? That would be difficult considering he had yet to decide on one, having made a mental note to ask Osamu for recommendations later on. Trying to hide his sudden unease, he gave you a smooth grin. “Why don’t you let me pick you up, sweetheart?”

That caused you to pause, your breath to catch in your throat, your heart to stutter. The way he spoke, that soft drawl, the smooth dulcet tone of voice, made you weak at the knees. If he addressed you with the same tone each time he spoke, you would have been putty in his hands by now. You swallowed, avoiding eye contact as you tapped your pen on the table, the motion more to soothe you, though it aggravated the others in the library to no end. “Fine.”

You ripped a page from your notebook, hurriedly scribbling down your address. You held out the paper to him, finally meeting his eyes again. “When were you thinking?”

“Friday at 8?”

“Sure,” you nodded. “See you then.”

And, that Friday, you found yourself holding up various outfits to yourself in the mirror only to discard them a moment later. They were never perfect, either too sultry or too innocent, too girly or too geared towards comfort. It was so dire you had reached the point of wishing that you had ordered those dresses you had browsed after agreeing to meet with him. Next day delivery would have meant they would have arrived on time, and you would have felt confident in them. However, you had talked yourself out of it, convincing yourself you had dresses worthy of a dinner with Atsumu. With a sigh, you picked up a dress you had discarded earlier. It was the best out of a bad bunch, and unfortunately the only one you thought you could get away with. Distantly, you wondered why you were trying so hard. That was just you trying to convince yourself you didn’t care. It would be foolish to lie to yourself. You cared because you were attracted to him, to his easy charm, his good looks.

Glancing in the mirror one more time, you smoothed down the material of the dress. It complimented you well, was a trusted favourite. It hugged your body in all the right ways, emphasising your shape in a way that was pleasing to the eye. You allowed yourself a small smile. You felt confident. It was a bonus that you figured Atsumu would enjoy the view.

Hearing the knock on your door, you grabbed your bag from the desk, checking it had everything you needed. Phone, keys and purse were all present inside. Then you went over to open the door. Framed by the dark word, dressed in a dark shirt and black jeans, Atsumu looked hot. His hair had been perfectly styled, a far cry from the messier style he favoured at university. His eyes ran up and down your body, lazily, as if he was stripping you with his eyes. He drawled, “Well, don’t you clean up nice. Makes me want to stay in instead of taking you out."

You gave him a playful glare, pushing against his chest lightly. He stepped backwards, you following him into the hallway. Turning away from him, you faced the door, locking it. Over your shoulder, you quipped, "If you think this date is ending in sex, you are very much mistaken."

Little did you know how wrong your statement was. You could blame it on the buzz of alcohol in your system from the wine but, to be honest, you were weak to Atsumu's charm. The way he purred your name had you weak. The feel of his fingers grazing your bare skin made you shiver. The feel of his lips moving languidly against your own sent jolts of pleasure through you.

"I'm going to ruin you," he breathed, breath hot against your ear as he nipped gently at the lobe, fingers teasing at the hem of your dress, slipping under the material. Those words, along with his actions, were your undoing.

Your hands tangled into his hair, gently tugging as you reconnected your lips, the kiss far more passionate, a bit more messy. It was easy for him to push you onto the bed, for you to instinctively hook your legs around his waist, holding him close to you. A low moan escaped your lips as he rolled his hips into you, feeling the hardness of his cock through the layers. Your dress was hiked up past your hips, the lace of your panties on full display. He pulled away to admire you, unhooking your legs from around his waist, spreading them open for him to admire the view. He let out an appreciative whistle. "Look at you. So desperate for me, sweetheart. Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want to feel my cock filling you up?"

You let out a soft moan. Your cheeks were flushed, breathing slightly laboured as you looked up at him. You were desperate for him. He could see all this, watched with smug satisfaction as your hand slipped into your wet panties and you began to play with yourself. "Why don't you take those off for me?"

Too lost in your need, you began to slip the fabric down your legs, slowly, teasingly. Atsumu watched with a playful glint in his eyes, hand moving to palm at his cock through his trousers. Not needing him to direct you, with the lace no longer blocking his view, you resumed your previous action, fingers circling your clit. As he watched, you pushed a finger into your wet entrance, watching as his eyes darkened. While you continued to pleasure yourself, he slipped his trousers off, then began to teasingly lower his boxes, watching your reaction. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of his hardened cock, slit wet with pre-cum. With you watching, he wrapped his fists around it, beginning to stroke it. His head tilted back and a low groan escaped his throat. You moaned in response, inserting another finger inside, stretching yourself out for him.

"Fuck, y/n," he moaned. "Are you ready? Do you want my cock inside of you? Do you want to feel me thrusting into you? Because I want to feel you clench around me, for you to cum as I fuck you."

"Yes," you breathed, thumb rubbing harshly against your clit as you continued to push your fingers inside you harder, faster. "Please fuck me."

"Get on your hands and knees then, sweetheart," he commanded, watching as you removed your fingers from inside of you. And what a sight you were, back curved to provide him with the best view. He ran his hands appreciatively along the slope of your ass cheeks, giving them a playful slap. He leant over you, fingers finding the zip of your dress, his cock brushing against you. Now wasn't the time to tease you. He yanked the zipper down, the dress falling off your body, leaving you naked apart from your bra.

"Please just fuck me," you begged, pushing back against him as his fingers brushed the tops of your erect nipples hidden by your bra.

"So impatient," he said, voice low, a gruff edge to it that made you suck in a breath. The tip of his cock brushed against your clit, hands gripping your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh. Teasingly, he waited, his cock head resting against your wet entrance. Each time you pushed back, he would pull slightly away, leaving you a whining mess. Just as you were about to beg, he pushed into you, his cock brushing against your inner walls as he slowly entered you. With a low groan, he sheathed himself fully inside you, his pelvis pressed against you.

Slowly at first, he began to rock into you, pulling out slightly before thrusting back in, working your pussy, getting you used to taking his cock. Each slow thrust caused you to moan, fingers clutching at the duvet.

"More," you whined, hips pushing back into him. He stilled, holding you close to him. You moved along his cock, grinding back against him as his hands tightened on you, stilling your movements.

"What was that?" he questioned, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of your neck. "You want me to fuck you into the mattress, is that it?"

"Yes," you declared, voice breathy as you let yourself droop forward, head resting against the soft material of the duvet. He pulled fully out of you, hand curling in the hair at the nape of your neck and pulling you upwards. Your back was flush against his chest, his other arm wrapped around you, fingers teasing at your clit as he thrust upwards into you again.

The sudden harsh thrust caused you to choke, head lolling against his shoulder. You were weak to him as he continued to thrust into you, losing yourself in the feeling of pleasure. The stimulation of your clit, coupled with the harsh thrusting, had you chasing your orgasm far sooner than you had expected, the pleasure slowly building up, a dam waiting to explode.

"Shit," you gasped as he pushed you forward onto the mattress, the position allowing him to push into you with more ease, the slap of his hips against your ass and your laboured breathing the only sound in the room. "Atsumu... I-I think I'm going to cum."

"Don't hold back," he grunted, feeling himself drawing closer. "Cum for me, sweetheart. Want to feel your walls fluttering around my cock."

"A-Atsumu."

His name was the only word able to escape your lips as a wave of pleasure hit you, finally sending you over the edge. He let out a pleased hum at the feel of your walls clenching around him, continuing to thrust into you as he chased his own release. He came with a low groan, releasing his hot seed into you, coating your walls. Slowly, he rocked gently into you before pulling out his slowly softening cock. You let out a low whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness, turning to face him with a small pout. He let out a soft chuckle, grabbing you by the chin and pulling you in for a long kiss, tongue tracing the inside of your mouth. Against your lips, he said, "I'm always up for round two."

You should have know one night wouldn't be enough to satiate your hunger for each other. Despite only having a sexual relationship, the two of you formed a friendship, if constant sexual teasing could be considered friendship. In the library, in class. Atsumu was insistent, his hands rarely kept to himself when he could so easily slip them into your warm panties. Occasionally, you would return the favour, palming him through his jeans. On a day when you had been feeling particularly adventurous, you had sucked him off in the library, relishing in the soft moans he would release, the way his hips would buck upwards as he attempted to push you down onto his cock further.

One day, he had turned to you, a completely innocent look on his face and stated, "You're the only girl I ever fuck now."

You had looked at him blankly as he had pulled you towards him, placing you on his lap, urging you to straddle him. His hands rested against the bare skin of your sides. "And?"

"I'd say we're pretty much exclusive."

Those words gave you some indication of where his train of thought was heading. Though you couldn't deny wanting to be in a relationship with him, you could hardly define what you did now as dating. You felt he was just using you and that had been the truth for as long as he had begun pursuing you.

"We're not even dating, Atsumu," you sighed. Just last week, he had gone on a date with another girl only to arrive at your dorm at the end of the night to fuck you instead of her.

"Why don't we change that?" he hummed, placing kisses along your jaw before connecting your lips in a searing kiss. His thumbs brushed against your rib cage as he kissed you harder. He was close enough to feel the way your heart picked up the pace, hammering against your chest. You pulled away slightly to look at him, to see the sincerity in his brown eyes.

"Okay," you agreed. "Let's change that."

Years later, you would look back on certain moments in your relationship with nothing but anger, mainly at yourself. The signs were clear from the moment you became official. Atsumu was a person who refused to be tied down. As soon as your relationship was defined, he lost interest, pulling away from you, treating you as nothing more than a means for pleasure. But, through it all, you still felt love for him, needing to be the thing that brought him that pleasure. That illusion shattered the moment you saw him with another girl, her legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed her with the passion he used to kiss you.

Though the illusion shattered, the desire for him did not. You would still open your door for him, still let him use you as you told yourself you were using him. You accepted the empty 'I love you' he would whisper as you fell asleep only to wake up to an empty bed.

You were a fool. But he must have known that. After all, only a fool could ever love him like you did.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader #hq imagines #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #haikyuu atsumu #hq smut #hq angst #haikyuu smut #atsumu smut

689 notes · View notes

es-kay-zee · 4 years ago

Text

Goodbyes part 2 | Hyunjin x Reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: none

requested: kinda? yeah?

word count: 2.1k

proofread: nope

taglist: @bxngchxn @jisungsplatforms @qtieskz

a/n: i couldn't be bothered making a new moodboard for this one so i'm just using the same one for part 1. maybe i'll make a new one tomorrow but not right now lol

____________________

Four days. It’s been four days since that phone call. And not a single one had gone by where Hyunjin didn’t cry himself to sleep while hugging your pillow. And every single one of those days, he’d dragged himself to practice and put on a face in front of the other boys, pretending that everything’s okay, when in reality he just wants to curl up into a ball and cry.

Four days and you still hadn’t been around to pick up your things. Being honest, he wished you already taken it all. It was getting harder. Coming home each day, expecting to find the apartment empty of your belongings. But when he walks through the door and finds everything in the exact same place as it was when he left in the morning gave him a false hope. A hope that maybe you won’t leave, that maybe you’ll come back and kiss him tell him that you’ll give him another chance. But knowing that that’s not going to happen just breaks his heart all over again.

It’s another two days before you show up. It’s 10 am on a Friday, and you didn’t want to come yet, knowing that the moment you do, it’ll feel real. That it’ll hit you like a truck that the best relationship of your life is truly over. But you didn’t want to wait too long either, after all, it’s better to rip the band-aid off quickly.

You slide the key into the lock, taking a deep breath before turning the handle and pushing the door open. The apartment is quiet, and something about stepping back into the place you called home feel uneasy. Almost as if you don’t belong there anymore. Similar to that feeling when you go to someone else’s house for the first time, and you don’t know how to act. That’s how you feel in the place you lived in for so long.

You close the door and take off your shoes, tightening your grip on the folded-up boxes in your arms. It feels weird. You don’t know what you were expecting but finding everything in the exact same place as it was when you last walked out seems strange. Things have changed, so why does every knick-knack remain in its place as if nothing were different.

You walk towards the bedroom, the only sound in the otherwise silent apartment is that of your soft footsteps on the hardwood flooring. You make it to the bedroom and place all the boxes down except for one. You open it up and step closer to your drawers of clothes, and slowly start placing the clothing into the box. You continue like this for a while, silently packing until your drawers are empty. There’s something about the silence of the house that makes you not want to make a sound. Normally you’d put on a playlist and dance as you pack, but not this time.

You move over to your bedside table, planning to start placing more of your things into various boxes. But in the corner of your eye, you stop something on your pillow that you hadn’t seen earlier. It’s a note. A piece of paper that’s been folded up neatly and placed gently on the pillow. Your name is written tidily on the front in Hyunjin’s handwriting, and just the sight alone almost has you crying. Part of your mind tells you to just scrunch up the piece of paper and toss it aside, but a bigger part of you desperately wants to read it. And so, you slowly pick up the note, take a seat on the edge of the bed, unfold it, and start reading.

dearest y/n

you said i probably wouldn’t be here when you come to pick up your stuff. so i decided to write you this so i can tell you what i want to say. well, assuming that you’ll actually read this, which i hope you do. i really really really hope you read this. gosh, i’m getting off track, sorry.

i want to tell you again just how sorry i am. but i know that no matter how many times i say it, and no matter what way i say it, it will never truly convey just how sorry i am. i wish from the bottom of my heart that this didn’t happen. i wish that i wasn’t such a dick and that i was there when you needed me. i have no excuse for not responding to you or calling you for so long. i’m so so sorry for hurting you. i’m not going to ask for your forgiveness, because i wouldn’t forgive myself if i were you. i already can’t forgive myself. all i want is to tell you how sorry i am, and how much i love you. and seeing as i can’t tell you in person, this note will have to do.

i love you, y/n. ever since we met, you’ve brought me more joy that i ever thought i could otherwise feel. you have the ability to make me laugh and blush like a teenager in love. you make my heart feel warm every time i see you. every time i get a message from you i smile. you make me feel safe and comfortable and i know that i can be vulnerable around you. you make me so giddy with happiness and love. i still get butterflies in my stomach every time i see you or talk to you. you make me smile like an idiot and it’s far too often that the boys have asked me why i’m smiling at my phone. you know that feeling when you’re so happy and smiley that it makes you feel all tingly in the best way? yeah, that’s how you make me feel. you make me laugh and you make me feel confident in myself. even when i feel like everything is crumbling around me, i know that you’re there to help me through. you’ve always been there for me when i need a shoulder to cry on and you have no idea just how much i regret not being there for you when you needed a shoulder. every single day i’m grateful that i got the chance to meet you and i’m especially grateful for the time that i got to call you mine. you’ll always have a special place in my heart. it hurts me when you’re hurting, and for me to be the reason that you’re upset and crying is the worst feeling in the world and i wish with everything i have that i was better. i’m so sorry, and i love you to the moon and back a billion times over.

love from hyunjin

The tears that you managed to keep at bay earlier fall freely now, a few dripping onto the page. Your fresh tears mix with Hyunjin’s dried ones at the bottom of the note, and you’re just glad they avoid smearing any of the ink. There’s a part of you, the part that wanted to discard the note without a second thought, that wants to hate Hyunjin. That wants to hate him for what he did, for making you feel so alone when you needed him. But you can’t. You’ve tried to listen to that part of you ever since you walked out of the apartment weeks ago. But you can’t bring yourself to hate him. It’s not easy when you’ve spent so long loving him. You reach into your pocket, pulling out your phone. You open your contacts and hit Hyunjin’s name, typing out a message to send to him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hyunjin sits in the corner, taking a momentary breather from the dance. He’s been going overboard with practicing lately, trying to distract himself from the situation. And it’s worked, until he’s gotten back to the apartment where he’s reminded that you’re gone. His phone buzzes, showing a message from you.

y/n <3: are you busy?

He quickly types back, asking why you’re asking. He hits send, his heart racing, shocked that you’re messaging him. His phone buzzes again with your response.

y/n <3: i was gonna ask if you could come to the apartment but if you’re busy then i won’t

Hyunjin jumps up, walking over the Chan and showing him the message.

“Can I go?” he asks, itching to run out the door and head straight over to you.

“Yeah, okay, you can,” Chan answers. He’s the only person that Hyunjin’s told about what happened, and he’s been worried about the younger man. “If any of the staff asks where you are, I’ll tell them you felt sick and went home.”

Hyunjin nods, says his thanks and rushes out the door. He doesn’t stop until he reaches the apartment door, making the trip in record time. But as he reaches for the handle, he halts. This will be the first time he sees you in person since he left for tour. And it’s not until now that he starts to think about why you messaged. Maybe you read the message, maybe you want to keep the apartment and have him move out instead of you, maybe you want to say goodbye one last time in person. The only way for him to know for certain is to open the door and face you. He’s nervous, but he still opens the door with shaking hands.

“Y/n?” he calls out while closing the door and removing his shoes.

“Bedroom,” is your response, and Hyunjin’s breath hitches at the sound of your voice. He missed the sound; it’s been too long since he’s last heard your voice without you sounding like you’re crying. He heads towards the bedroom, taking one last deep breath before rounding the corner and seeing you. It takes everything in him. Everything to not immediately run up to you and engulf you in a hug just the way he wanted to when he first came home.

You pat the spot on the bed next to you, signalling for him to come and sit. He does just that, slowly walking over, not taking his eyes off of you. He’s missed you too much to look away. If this is the last time he gets to see you, he doesn’t want to miss a single moment. You don’t even look at him yet, instead keeping your eyes trained on your hands in your lap. You both sit in silence for a moment, neither of you wanting to speak first.

“I read the note,” you say, holding up the piece of paper in your hands for a brief moment. You pause, waiting to see if he’s going to say anything, but he doesn’t. “Do you really mean everything you wrote?”

“I do, I mean every last word. I love you so much and I’m so incredibly sorry for not answering any of your messages. It was stupid and I regret it so much.” You finally look up at him, and you find his eyes welling with tears.

“I need you to know how much it hurt me, and that I can’t forgive you. Not yet anyway. But what I can do is give you one more chance. As long as you promise not to do it again. Because if you hurt me like this again, then I will leave, and I won’t come back at all.”

“I promise! I promise that I will never do this again. I promise to be there for you when you need me, and I promise to never hurt you ever again.” It makes you giggle quietly, the way he hold his pinkie finger up to make a pinkie promise. It’s the way you’ve always promised each other things, so you don’t think twice as you link your finger with his. “So does this mean you’re not gonna leave?”

��Yeah,” you say, finally smiling. And Hyunjin’s heart warms at the sight. He loves your smile, it’s one of his favourite things in the entire world. He’s often said that if he were only able to see one thing for the rest of his life, it would be your beautiful smile. “Kiss me?”

You don’t have to ask twice before Hyunjin presses his lips to yours. It’s sweet, the emotions he pours into the kiss. Through it you can feel just how much he loves you, just how much he cares about you. You can feel the sorrow he’s felt and the guilt that’s eaten away at him. The pain, the heartbreak, but most of all you can feel the overwhelming joy he feels at being able to call you his again. But you’re just happy to finally be kissing your boyfriend for the first time in months.

#stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #skz angst #skz x reader #hyunjin fluff

65 notes · View notes

juminsmysticmc · 4 years ago

Note

I'm so sorry that you are sad. Honestly I was suprised that request are open for so long... So I will request! Can I have RFA + minor trio (i'm so happy that i don't have to choose one part this time, i love almost everyone) who was forced by her family to have job like lawyer or doctor but she dreamed about being a writer since she was very young? Thank you and don't be sad about lack of requests. I'm sure thatbin short time you will again have tons of them

RFA + Minor Trio with a Mc who was forced to do high sociality jobs instead of becoming an author

Thank you, yeah, they were open for a pretty long time, the likes and reblogs also went down a bit, I believe that I was gone for too long, ups.

But I will catch up!

Your words made me happy! Thank you for your support!

Jumin

,,I look up to you, my love,’’ Jumin praised you in your shared bedroom as you faced each other.

Your head was resting on his warm chest as you could hear his heartbeat.

,,Why?’’ you asked him, curious about what he would say next.

,,You achieved so much. You studied medicine and are a professor at such a young age, saving other people’s lives, it’s really amazing, you know?’’ he asked you, smiling down at you as you stayed silent for a few moments.

,,You think so? Because I always wanted to become an author. I can’t think of a time in my childhood in which I wasn’t thinking about a story. I only began to write them down way too late. I didn’t even get the chance to ask a publisher to look at them,’’ you whispered sadly, and Jumin could hear it.

,,Why didn’t you do that then?’’ he asked you, now patting your back.

,,I was forced to. My mother, gosh, it was such a hard time. That’s why I don’t have a good relationship with her.

She burned all my writings, forced me to go to the school she wanted, all because she wanted me to have a good stable job; a job with money, contacts to marry into a rich family, to marry another doctor, and open my own hospital.

Because she came from a medical family, I had to do the same.’’ you sighed.

,,Then… just resign, I will call a publisher tomorrow. You don’t need to worry about money. I already told you once… just put yourself above everyone else… if you want to become a writer, I will open that possibility for you… I will protect you, even in front of your mother,’’ Jumin whispered and held you tighter in his arms while you began to fall asleep with your heart at ease...

Zen ( this one was kinda hard cause, like everyone else knows, I always try to stick to the original story line and MC is his manager after they become a couple so…)

,,I’m so proud of you,’’ Zen laughed as he kissed you.

You just resigned your position as a lawyer, all because you were going for your own carrier.

,,Thank you, Zenny,’’ you mumbled and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

,,You motivated me to not do what my family wants. Thanks to you, I’ve realized that even if that was a stable job, nothing can beat doing something you love,’’ you laughed.

Zen knew that you were very brave and that it took you a lot of strength.

But luckily, you saved a lot of money in your years as a lawyer so every single door was open to you.

,,ARE YOU CRAZY?!’’ someone screamed when you just returned in front of Zen’s door.

,,YOU BARELY KNOW THIS MAN! WHAT CAN HE GIVE YOU?! NOTHING! HE WILL TAKE ALL YOUR MONEY!’’ your mother screamed at you.

,,Mother, I have enough of my own. So does Zen and we already talked about this. Besides, no one is saying that I won’t keep making money anymore,’’ you told her calmly, making your boyfriend even prouder.

,,Ah! And what do you intend to do? So you think that you will write something and someone else will make a book out of your crap?’’ she asked you, laughing at your idiotic idea, or so she thought.

,,No,’’ you laughed.

,,I will work as his manager and while I am doing so, I will write my own book, my steps, and a script for a movie. Everything is already set, mother,’’ you smiled and pulled Zen.

,,One day, we will be able to talk like a mother and a daughter, but until then, stay healthy,’’ you lastly said and then closed the door behind yourself.

Yoosung

As you helped Yoosung, he realized more and more that you taught him with a bit of bitterness.

Of course, humans and animals were different, but you noticed that there were a few basics you could help him to remember.

One day, Yoosung finally found enough strength to ask you about it.

,,Mc, do you like your job?’’ he asked you, a bit nervous even though you two had been together for such a long time.

You answered with a short, ,,no’’ and then you smiled.

,,I hate it. I wanted to become a writer. I put all my hope into it and lost. My parents were pretty strict and they still are. I had to become a doctor and I couldn’t change that. And so, here I am, with the most wonderful job, saving human beings, without actually enjoying it,’’ you told him and laid back on your chair.

,,And why do you keep doing it?’’ he asked you.

Well, that was a good question. You really had no idea...why…?

,,Let’s do it like this! Work on your books, on whatever you want to write. Write whenever you have time and once I have the job, you can resign yours! I will make your dream come true. You just have to go through it for a little while longer,’’ he smiled at you, actually making you tear up.

,,Yoosung, I’m so happy that I met you back then,’’ you laughed in tears and kissed him with all your love.

Jaehee

Back then, when Jaehee gave you the key, she never thought that this could be a harder fight than she imagined.

As a banker, one of the most known in Korea, you however, knew what you were talking about.

But something felt off.

And Jaehee, even though she didn’t like it, began to understand while you supported her so much with doing what she loved.

You were probably going through the same.

,,We need these credits and you need to fill out that page and sign here, these papers,’’ you told her, with the most monotone voice you ever had.

,,You don’t look as if you enjoy this. I’m sorry that you have to do this for us…’’ she mumbled.

In the next moment, you smiled at her. ,,Don’t worry, Jaehee. this just isn’t my favorite job, that’s why. I just don’t like my job, it has nothing to do with you,’’

This made her feel even more uncomfortable.

,,Mc, why don’t you do the same as me… I mean, I thought that we would do this together, but seeing you so busy… is that really something you want to do?’’ she asked you, more nervous than before.

Currently, Jaehee was questioning all her decisions.

Was it the right decision to leave Jumin’s company and open a shop with a stranger she kind of felt attracted to?

,,I’ll find a solution,’’ you smiled and stroked her arm.

,,I have to wait until we are finished with the preparations or else our money will be cut off and we won’t be able to do anything. Then, when this coffee shop is up and running, I will write a book about how to make it work, give out information without wanting money for it, and just helping people,’’ you smiled, your eyes looked even warmer now.

,,You- oh my, my head, what was I thinking? Of course, what you’re saying makes so much sense,’’ she laughed.

,,Let’s do this. I will support you with all my heart,’’ she smiled and signed the paper you needed from her.

Saeyoung

,,I’m home,’’ you called as you rushed inside and took off your shoes.

Saeyoung rushed to your side as he helped you to take off your jacket.

,,How was your day, my dear?’’ he said.

You were shocked to see your fiancé in a dress with fake hair.

,,What the heck are you doing?’’ you laughed as you kissed him.

,,Since you weren’t home, I had to play the madam of the house,’’ he acted.

,,In short, he had to act like an idiot,’’ Saeran said and rolled his eyes as your friends, the other members of the RFA laughed.

Yes, carefree days finally came.

,,How was work?’’ Zen asked you.

,,Please, no, don’t let me begin! I hate it! Being a judge for teenagers is just so… Ah, I can’t take it anymore! I’m pissed and I don’t want to do it anymore,’’ you said and drank some water.

,,Why?’’ Jaehee asked you. You were doing a good job, why did you think like that?

,,Because I don’t want to take children from their parents anymore. I’m sick and tired of it,’’ you answered.

,,If they get neglected…’’ Saeyoung answered, this time being serious. He knew what he was talking about.

You looked at him. You understood his point, but…

,,It’s not fair to judge by things you hear or experience yourself. Sometimes, there are good parents who lose their children, you know?’’ you warned him.

But you already knew that Saeyoung put an end to all of this, even though you didn’t like the way he did it, just like he did it for Zen back then when he posted a short chapter of your book and made a lot of publishers come to you.

As a little thank you, he said back then.

And even though you didn’t like the method he used, you were thankful to him and were happy.

If someone wants to see a oneshot out of this HC please comment below or send me a message ( anon works out too ) I want to hear your opinions.

Saeran

You laid down on your couch when you turned your head around to read the time.

Once again, it was 3 am.

Saeran walked over to you without you noticing him and hugged you from behind.

,,You’re still not sleeping?’’ you asked him and nuzzled your face into his neck, inhaling Saeran’s scent.

,,Jumin needed help with something and I had to finish it,’’ he lied. He waited for you but he would never tell you. The thing he worked on wasn’t even that important.

He just wanted to see you, because as a politician, you two barely had time for each other.

It was funny. He hated politicians, his ,,father’’ at first, but you… you were different.

You were fighting for something.

And he knew that if it wasn’t for him, you would have given up this job a long time ago.

,,You know, if you want to do something else, do it… you don’t have to stay in that position just for me,’’ he mumbled as he stroked your hair.

,,It’s okay. We need to save Saeyoung. I don’t want to get revenge, but I want everyone involved to get what they deserve. You know, back then I never would have thought that the job my father forced on me would someday help you. I always hated him and myself for not being able to change it. But as soon as we win this fight, I will finally realize my dream and write a book about our life. What happened to you and Saeyoung should go public and I will fight for it!’’ you told him.

He hugged you and took you in his arms, carrying you to your shared bed.

,,We should pay our respect to your father and visit him over the weekend,’’ he whispered and waited for your answer, but you already fell asleep.

,,Thank you, Mc,’’ he whispered before he also fell asleep.

Jihyun

,,I never thought that in the two years I wasn’t around you, you would actually change your job. I’m happy that now you’re able to do what you always wanted to do,’’ Jihyun praised you.

,,Yes, thank you. I never liked working in a hospital, although I grew with the job.

But today, writing about all these things helped me.

And I finally showed my parents that a writer can also be something to look up to,’’ you smiled as you watched your daughter Lucy.

,,Did you ever speak to them again?’’ he asked you.

Your parents and his father didn’t come to your wedding; that was why only the RFA came.

It was kind of sad that the only true friends you guys had were the RFA, but everyone else weren’t really people you would call friends.

,,No, well, having a daughter going from being a surgeon to being an author is something to feel disappointed about, apparently,’’ you laughed sadly.

,,I will never ever forbid Lucy to do anything she loves,’’ you said and then looked over to Jihyun.

He nodded and agreed with you.

Your husband hugged you and kissed your cheek, he had to think about the time he first saw that you actually published something. He could only imagine how hard that time must have been for you.

He was also kind of sad that he wasn’t there with you. Jumin told him later that he actually supported you a lot without even telling you because he knew that you would have never accepted his help.

But from now on, he would be there and support you.

For you, and for the sake of his family and friends.

Vanderwood

One day, when Vanderwood was cleaning up after the two of you moved in, he saw a box.

The box, which was standing in the middle of a room, was getting on his nerves so much that the long haired man decided to throw it away, thinking that it was nothing but trash in there.

However, he soon realized that he had been horribly wrong.

The box slipped out of his hands and a lot of papers fell out.

,,Huh?’’ he asked himself as he picked one up, the words “chapter one” written on it.

One by one, Vanderwood sorted the papers and actually noticed that three whole books were inside the box as single pages.

Just when Vanderwood was at chapter six of one of the books, you entered, the cleaning session long forgotten when you arrived.

,,What is that?’’ you asked him when you saw that he actually read something from your books.

,,You should tell me, don’t you know that that’s against the copyrights? I mean, you are a lawyer, you should know that-’’ Vanderwood quickly stayed silent when he saw your tears.

,,I can hide this scandal, you know?’’ he whispered.

But he was totally wrong.

,,I wrote it years ago. Back when my father lost a trial because of a lawyer. At that time, he forced me to become one too to get revenge.

And so I had to give up on my books,’’ you told him.

,,But your father died! Who cares?! Change jobs!’’ he said, a bit louder.

,,With what money should we pay for the appartnemnt with… and the food?’’ you asked him and laughed. He seemed to forget that he still didn’t have a job and that you were the only one with an income.

,,We will manage. I will make it come true,’’ he told you, and indeed, Vanderwood made everything you wished for come true.

You didn’t know how, and he asked you to not ask about his methods, but your books were published. You could work as an author and could give up what you didn’t enjoy and he was actually working as your manager.

,,I told you to clean the keyboard twice a day!’’ he hissed while you smiled at him.

MASTERLIST 1

MASTERLIST 2

MASTERLIST 3

29.03.2021// 22:26 MEST

82 notes · View notes

classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years ago

Text

Meeting and Dating Lloyd Dobler

(Not my gif)(Requested via message)

(I kept the first date because I thought it was cute. Hope you don’t mind!)

- You and Lloyd technically didn’t meet until after he asked you out.

- Remember when you first went to highschool and you had no idea that half the school “existed”; for lack of a better term. And every year you would somehow encounter someone that you didn’t know went to your school but now that you did know, you would just see them everywhere? That was you and Lloyd.

- It was after you entered your senior year of highschool that Lloyd had first seen you in the hallways. He had a thing for you the moment he saw you and spent the entire year arriving at one of his classes late because he just couldn’t take his eyes off you whenever you stood and waited for class to start.

- The only reason he didn’t ask you out during the year is because he just couldn’t work up the nerve, especially knowing that he’d have to see you the rest of the year if you rejected him.

- But soon enough, graduation came and he figured that he just had to ask you out or else he was very likely going to explode.

- So he went to “his office” and searched the phone book for your name, scanning through page after page until he found it and nervously dialed up the number.

- Well, I think you know how that phone call went. He spent the first minute or so rambling which gave you the time to skim through your yearbook and see exactly who was calling. And frankly... you were surprised to see that the voice on the other end of the phone was such a handsome boy.

“Lets go out. You wanna go out?”

- Let’s be honest here, Lloyd won’t relent until he gets; at least, one date with you. And why would you refuse? Like I said before: you saw him and saw that he was cute. And though you really didn’t know him, what was the worst that could happen when going out with someone that was so nervous while just talking on the phone with you.

- So you agreed ...which prompted him to ask you to repeat yourself a few times because he was in complete disbelief. Afterwards, he told you he’d pick you up at eight before saying goodbye and prancing to the living room to yell with his nephew in celebration.

- For your first date, he took you to the graduation party where you spent the night mingling with a lot of his surprisingly chill friends and periodically meeting back with him while he played keymaster.

- Your night; and morning, went pretty much the same after that. You were forced to drive around for three hours to give Mike a ride home, then you stopped at 7/11 and talked while you walked the rest of the way to your house; whereupon getting there he confessed that he wanted to see you as much as he could.

- The two of you share your first kiss a few dates later which only takes about three days since he asks you to hang out nearly every day. He’d just parked in front of your house, both of you saying a cheerful goodbye when he leant over and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, one you’d returned happily before saying a final goodbye and getting out of his car.

- Well, after that the two of you are inseparable and neither of you would have it any other way, especially not him.

- Constant Pda. Lloyd is sort of obsessed with you and wants to be touching, kissing, and holding you whenever he can, no matter where you are.

- Hugs. He likes to bury his face in the crook of your neck when you do.

- Having his arm around you most of the time. He likes having you pressed into his side.

- Neck kisses.

- Quick and chaste kisses or long and passionate ones; depends on the mood.

- Don't mind him, he’s just absentmindedly playing with your hair.

- Handholding. He takes your hand whenever he can, he likes having that little connection.

- Bridal carrying and piggyback rides.

- He’s not a big pet name person; mainly because he loves your name, but if he knows that you like them, he’ll gladly use them just to make you happy.

- Lets be real here; Lloyd would gladly cuddle with you for hours on end. He loves having you as close to him as possible so never worry about trying to snuggle with him, he wants you to.

- He’s a big spoon and he will refuse to let you go if you really don’t have to leave. He’ll tell you to go back to sleep or tighten his arms around you whenever you shift, not wanting you to move away from him even for a moment.

- He’s the best at comforting and reassuring you and he genuinely never gets tired of it. He’ll sit with and talk to you for hours if he has to because the most important thing for him is seeing you happy.

- He’s your own, personal cheerleader. He’s always at all your events, clapping the loudest, and turning towards whoever's next to him, saying a “she’s great, isn’t she?”. He’s so proud.

- He’s always gushing about you to people, even before the two of you started dating. Corey has to hear about you constantly though deep down she really doesn’t mind.

- Speaking of his friends, you end up getting close to a lot of them, especially Corey. You let her rant to you whenever she needs to and she reminds you how important and special Lloyd is.

- He sort of tells Corey and his other girlfriends everything so be prepared for her to know if you’ve “made it” or not or when you’ve had your first kiss. She tells you pretty much everything about her so it’s sort of a fair deal.

- Getting close with his sister and nephew. You love watching him and the little boy play with each other and he loves the fact that you think it’s cute whenever he does.

- His sister loves to tease him; and the two of you honestly.

- He never gets annoyed while he waits for you to get ready. He likes having the excuse to watch you while you do your makeup or brush your hair, or just helping you choose an outfit and put it on.

- Tons of compliments. He thinks you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread and you best believe you’re going to know that.

- Lloyd is ...so respectful? His mother raised him right and there’s so many points in your relationship where you wonder how you somehow managed to hit the jackpot.

- I’m just gonna say it: he’s a pushover. You have Lloyd wrapped around your little finger so be nice to him because you’re his world and he’d do anything for you.

- If you ask him to carry you’re things, he’ll do it. Ask him to do something he normally hates, he’ll do it. Ask to do something most boys would say no to, he’ll do it. He just loves seeing you happy.

- He sort of jumps to agree with a lot of what you say; especially in the beginning of your relationship, because he wants you to think that the two of you are really compatible and that he’s the perfect guy for you.

- Having a bunch of pictures together. He certainly has a bunch of pictures of you.

- Watching him train, fight, workout, etc. He pushes himself as hard as he can to impress you, occasionally hurting himself because he’s distracted ...so maybe it isn't a good idea for you to be there with him.

- This boy lives for your praise. Tell him he’s handsome or that he did a good job and he’s all smiles.

- He sort of loves hearing you talk and learning more about you. He eats up all your stupid stories like they’re the greatest things in the world.

- Talking on the phone pretty much everyday. He usually calls to say good morning or goodnight, or to see if you want to hang out.

- Occasionally deep conversations. Sometimes something one of you says will just spur a sort of existential explanation/speech that neither of you really anticipated.

- Sooo many dates. You have at least three every week. Like I said: you’re inseparable.

- He’s pretty much willing to do anything with you. He just likes being in your company, he doesn’t really care what you’re doing together.

- Going to convenience stores.

- Beach dates.

- Taking walks around gardens and other pretty places. You admire the scenery, he admires you.

- Driving around with him all night. You don’t even have to talk for most of it, you just enjoy exploring the town and listening to the radio with him.

- Cuddling in the early hours of the morning because you’ve spent all night out with him.

- Sitting together in his backseat, either making out or “making it”.

- He’s always prepared wherever you go. He always has whatever you need and is so considerate that you just want to kiss him. Food, entertainment, extra coats; you name it and he’s got it.

- He would absolutely be the type of boyfriend to go out and buy you pads. He’s got a sister that he lives with and a friend group that pretty much consists of all girls; I’m sure he’s done it before.

- You think you’re gonna be free of him when you get sick? Oh ho ho honey; not a chance. He’s calling to check in on you every few hours and stopping by to take care of you himself.

- He’s not an extremely jealous person, and he’s good at acting nonchalant when he is so you rarely know when he’s actually feeling that way. He’s respectful and he trusts you so he isn’t gonna make a big deal out of you being around other guys, especially since you’re both so obviously in love.

- And he’s got eyes only for you; there’s no reason for you to ever feel jealous.

- He’s protective of you in the cutest way possible. He’s always sweetly checking in on you, making sure you’re okay and looking out for you whenever you’re together. You’ll never have to worry about stepping on broken glass again.

- The two of you rarely ever fight so when you do, it’s over something serious or because someone else has caused a rift between the two of you. He never yells at you, he never really insults you, he mainly just wants you to talk to him, but believe me, when it comes down to it, he’ll argue and argue until one of you can’t take it anymore; usually you.

- It’s usually you that leaves to get some space and cool off or think things over. In that time, if you refuse to see or talk to him, he’ll continue to call you until you finally agree to make up. He’s the king of persistency; as we saw in the movie.

- His apologies are usually very heartfelt. A boombox playing your song™, flowers, messages on your answering machine that makes you want to cry. Believe me, it’s hard to stay mad at him.

- At first, he was really nervous to tell you that he loved you. He thinks that telling a girl he loves them is a really meaningful thing so he wanted to know that he meant it before he said it. But after he said it for the first time, he just couldn’t stop, and he loves hearing you tell him that you love him back.

- It doesn’t matter what the future holds for the two of you; he’d follow you to the ends of the Earth. He wants to be with you for the rest of his life; it’s the one thing he’s really sure of.

#lloyd dobler imagine #lloyd dobler headcanons #lloyd dobler imagines #lloyd dobler headcanon #lloyd dobler x reader #80s movie imagines #80s movie imagine #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon #say anything imagine #say anything headcanons #say anything headcanon #say anything imagines

81 notes · View notes

ben-barnes-is-my-husband · 4 years ago

Text

Here’s a Jonsa WIP

I’ve even got a picset made by the lovely and talented @mynameisnoneya1991

So, this is a rough draft. And I’m still fiddling with it (in my mind). I can’t decide if I want Jonsa to be living apart at the start of this to make things easier, and if that would work if they did. That would mean more editing, but I’ll let you guys decide.

Sansa Stark groans at the heavy pounding at the front door. God, she hopes it isn’t Jon. She isn’t ready to deal with him right now. Not after she had drunk herself into oblivion the night before.

“What the fuck?!”

Sansa jumps at the sound of Arya’s shout. Okay, yep, it was coming back to her; she had gotten drunk with her sister last night.

With her head pounding, she manages to sit up and get out of the bed. The room spins as she stands and she gags and runs to the bathroom to retch in the toilet. She just makes it.

When she’s done, she wants to cry. She hates throwing up. Any time she had been sick in the past Jon had always held her hair back and then tucked her into bed.

Now she wants to throw up for a whole different reason.

She hears her brother’s voice from the living room, and after splashing water on her face and brushing her teeth, she heads out of the bathroom.

Robb is standing in the middle of the living room and Arya is laying on the couch with the comforter Sansa didn’t recall getting her the night before.

“Robb,” she croaks and goes to the loveseat to curl up on it. “What are you doing here at…” She doesn’t even know what time it is.

“Noon,” Robb finishes for her.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Noon,” she mumbles.

“I came to see how you were doing,” he said. He looks sad and lowers his voice as he says, “Jon called me.”

Sansa buries her face in the plump pillow under her head and tries to hold back the tears that sting her eyes. She isn’t ready to cry so soon after waking and definitely not after puking.

“What the fucker want?” Arya asks crossly.

“He’s been trying to call Sansa and was worried,” Robb replies. “He told me what happened.”

“Did he tell you he cheated on her?” Arya demands.

“He said that they had decided to take a break and that he was all fucked up about it and went drinking and…”

“Fucked someone else?” Sansa says. She squeezes her eyes shut.

“Yeah,” Robb says softly. “Fuck, Sansa, I’m sorry.”

Sansa waves a hand at him. She just wants him to shut up about Jon, she wants her mind not to think about Jon, she wants to feel nothing about Jon, and she wants the room to stop spinning.

“Did you tell him to fuck off?” Arya asks.

Sansa smiles into the pillow. She loves her little sister so damn much. No one else would get this angry on her behalf. Well, Jon would have. The time she was sexually harassed by a client at the advertising firm she worked for, he had been out for blood.

“I told him he was a fucking asshole and that when I saw him next I was going to kick his ass,” Robb says.

Sansa smiles again. That’s her big brother; her hero.

“Does he expect a phone call?” Arya asks.

“Yes,” Robb sighs.

“Don’t call him,” Sansa says, turning to look at her brother. “Let him suffer.”

Robb frowns again. “San, he was really worried.”

“Ask me if I care.”

Robb nods. “I won’t call him. But just for s and g’s, where is your phone?”

Sansa waves a hand again. “Somewhere.”

“You don’t know.”

“No, I don’t. And I don’t care. I don’t want to see his stupid name on it or hear his stupid messages or read his stupid texts. I just want to not think about him, okay? I’m hungover and I feel like death. I want to just focus on not throwing up again.”

She squeezes her eyes shut again and then the tears come. She buries her face back in the pillow.

“Now look what you did,” Arya scolds Robb.

“I didn’t just come for him; I came to see if she was okay, too. I didn’t know about any of it until he called,” Robb says defensively.

“Can someone get me some water and something for my head?” Sansa asks.

“I’m on it,” Robb says and hurries off.

Arya kneels beside the loveseat and Sansa looks at her. “You look like shit.”

Sansa wipes at her tears. “So do you.”

Arya shoves some of Sansa’s red hair from her face. “What do you want to do?”

“Sleep. When I sleep I don’t have to think.”

“Then let’s get you back to bed and you can sleep.”

Sansa nods and sits up just as Robb returns with water and ibuprofen. She has a feeling the water might make her throw up, but she has to try. It’s ice cold, which helps. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she had been until the water is sliding down her throat. She hopes the ibuprofen works quickly. She also wonders if popping a sleeping pill would have been better. She’d be knocked out for a good chunk of the day. She is all about avoiding this altogether.

After she’s done, Robb and Arya follow her to the bedroom and help her settle into bed. They’re treating her like porcelain, but she’s okay with that honestly. She feels shaky and weak, and not just from drinking.

“Do you want me to pack up Jon’s shit and put it on the lawn while you’re resting?” Arya asks.

“I can help,” Robb offers.

Sansa grabs Jon’s pillow on the bed and hands it to them. “Burn it.”

Arya takes it. “I’m on it.”

The sheets are cool and they feel good against her skin. Robb and Arya cover her up and she rolls over and curls into fetal position and closes her eyes. She chants don’t throw up in her head until she dozes off again.

**********

Jon Snow checks his phone again and expels a frustrated sigh when he sees no notification from Robb or Sansa.

He drags a hand through his curly black locks and then rubs at his beard as he paces, phone in hand, in his kitchen.

His friend, Sam Tarly, is sitting at the table watching him. “Maybe I should call her?” he asks.

“You never just randomly call her,” Jon says. “She’ll know you’re with me.”

“She’ll know you sent Robb,” Sam points out.

“Robb’s also her brother. She won’t turn him away.”

Sam concedes the point. “I’m sure she’s fine, Jon.”

“Fine?” Jon demands, turning on his friend. “I slept with another woman, Sam. She is not fine. You didn’t see the look on her face when I told her.”

He can’t get the image out of his head. The devastation in her eyes along with the tears. The way she’d paled and then the trembling of her bottom lip and the sob - he can’t get the sound of her sob out of his head either.

He has never felt like such a piece of shit. He hurt the only woman he has ever loved and he is terrified that he won’t be able to fix this.

Sam holds up a hand. “I just meant I’m sure she’s physically fine.”

Jon rubs at his forehead in frustration. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.’

“You’re worried. It’s understandable.”

“I’m more than just worried,” Jons says. He feels the tears come. “I hurt her, Sam. I did something I can’t take back and you have no idea how much I want to. I don’t even remember most of it…” What little he can remember he wishes he could scour from his brain.

“Why exactly did you guys decide to take a break?” Sam asks.

“It was over something stupid, something about going out to dinner… We’d been having these stupid little fights for a while now.”

“Why?”

Jon finally sits. He leans forward and picks at his nails as he speaks. “We just haven’t been on the same page lately. I figured it was because she was dealing with a difficult client at work and I just changed firms. We’ve just been off.”

Sam nods slowly. “That can happen.”

“She said she felt like I wasn’t ‘present’ in the relationship anymore, that I was taking her for granted.”

“Were you?”

Jon purses his lips together, thinking about the week before when he told her she had to come with him to a dinner his new boss was having and she told him she had to work late. A fight had ensued.

“I’m going to take your silence as a yes,” Sam says.

“She hasn’t been easy to live with lately,” Jon retorts and automatically wishes he hadn’t said it, never mind thought it.

“How so?”

“She’s been so touchy about everything. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells with her.” He sighs. “How the fuck did we get here, Sam? Sansa is...she’s my world. How can she not know that?”

“She can’t read your mind, Jon,” Sam says gently. “Relationships take work--”

“Yeah, I know. I fucking know,” Jon snaps. He holds up a hand. “Sorry. Again.”

“So, this woman…”

Jon groans and drops his head to the table. He bangs it there twice and Sam tells him to stop.

“I was hurt, I was angry, she was laughing at my jokes and I was drunk off my ass. You know, I’ve only been with one other woman besides Sansa?”

“Was that part of it?” Sam asks.

Jon frowns. “I don’t know. I don’t think so? I just wanted to feel anything but how I felt. It was a mistake. A drunken mistake.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “What am I going to do, Sam? How am I going to fix this?”

Sam just looks at him sadly and Jon feels the urge to punch him. He doesn’t want Sam to look at him like that, like he knows already that it’s pointless. That the mistake he made just cost him the love of his life.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #fanfiction #jonsa fanfiction

43 notes · View notes

wisteriashouse · 4 years ago

Text

aflame (ii).

pairing: firefighter!rengoku kyoujurou x cook!reader

genre: fluff, modern! au

word count: 2073

ii. chicken soup

Rengoku Kyoujurou and you have a rather strange relationship.

He’s what you would call your life benefactor — the man had saved you from a fire a couple of months ago when the gas pipe in your kitchen had exploded, leaving your eatery in flames and you choking on smoke, thankfully out of the blast range.

That’s when he’d appeared, charging through the flames fearlessly in full gear, looking like an angel descending from the heavens to rescue you. His eyes had met yours through the visor, a shining golden colour that you had never seen before, full of determination and courage, and you think it was that moment that you’d fallen in love.

In the middle of the roaring flames, his voice had been gentle and comforting, his arms strong and reliable as he carried you out of the fire like a prince from the pages of a fairytale.

That single encounter had left you completely starry eyed for a man whose name you hadn’t even known. After three weeks of fruitless agonizing over your mysterious savior’s identity while your eatery was being rebuilt, you had decided at the end of it to put the man firmly out of your mind — you had other things to focus on, such as filling the hungry bellies of your patrons.

As if fate would have it, however, the very day you had decided to reopen your eatery and forget about him, the very man you had been searching for this entire time walked right through your doors with the brightest smile on his face.

Rengoku Kyoujurou visiting your eatery that day had been a pure stroke of luck, you later learned. According to him, it’d been two months since the previous designated chef of the fire house had resigned, leaving him and the firefighting crew with no form of sustenance but cup noodles and microwavable meals. That had already sounded absolutely deplorable to you already, but the breaking point for them had come when the only microwave in the fire house had broken down right before lunch break, leaving all of the firefighting crew tired, stressed and downright angry.

Kyoujurou had then proceeded to lose at janken, the responsibility of finding an alternate food source before his co-workers went completely ballistic thrust upon his shoulders. Upon being tossed out onto the streets, he happened to remember about the eatery fire that he had attended to a few weeks ago, and hence decided to give it a shot.

That was how he had come to enter your eatery that day, very nearly giving you a heart attack and causing you to fall for him all over again. When he’d explained his plight to you with a rather sheepish smile on his face, you had insisted on treating him and all his co-workers to a hot lunch in return for saving your life. And that’s how things had gone from there.

Now, Kyoujurou drops by your eatery daily at twelve exactly when his break starts to collect lunch for the fire house crew. You hate to admit it, but his visits are easily what you look forward to the most every day; they never fail to brighten your mood with his presence and chatter.

So, you’re understandably put out when Kyoujurou doesn’t come by one day.

“Boss, is your Prince Charming still not here yet?”

You whirl around from where you were staring at the clock on the wall, mouth falling open in shock. “Stop calling him that!” You insist, fanning your cheeks wildly. The new part timer at your eatery, Kanzaki Aoi, only laughs in response as she rushes to fish the tempura from the deep fryer.

You smack your cheeks lightly, shaking your head in an attempt to clear your mind, it’s now lunch hour and the eatery is fully packed - you can even see a queue beginning for form outside. This isn’t time to be distracted!

“Aoi, take the tempura and chicken soup to Hakuji-san’s table, don’t forget to give them a cup of hot green tea on the house too–”

“Because his girlfriend catches a cold easily, I know.” Aoi calls back, already nimbly balancing three trays on her hands. You have to take a moment to admire your protégé, only two weeks of working here and she’s already so capable! Pleased, you turn back to the pan you’re tending to, but you find your eyes wandering back to the clock once more. The stack of bento boxes sit at the side, untouched.

It’s already fifteen minutes past twelve. Is he really not coming today?

“If you’re really that worried about him, just drop him a text.” Aoi’s voice interrupts your thoughts once more and you yelp at the sight of Aoi staring at you with her arms crossed, terribly embarrassed about having being caught distracted twice in a row. Is it really that obvious that you’re thinking about him?

“A text message?” You repeat dumbly. Aoi nods, gestures to your phone lying on the counter.

“Yes, a text message. With alphabets and words. Ask him why he hasn’t come yet, and tell him that you’re worried about him.” Aoi speaks slowly, as if she’s coaching a baby, and squints at you out of the corner of her eye. “You do have his number, right?

Sure, you have his number saved on your phone, but the only messages you’ve sent each other have been meal orders so far. To ask him why he hasn’t come yet... does that seem a little too awkward? Too personal?

“He should take responsibility for ordering food and not turning up to it. Imagine if he takes you out on a date and ends up blindsiding you... If he’s that sort of man, then you should just kick him to the curb. ” Aoi suddenly declares, folding her arms across her apron. You gasp.

“Don’t speak like that about Rengoku-san!”

“So just text him.” Aoi snorts, grabbing the stack of bento boxes and hefting them into the trolley your eatery uses for deliveries. “I’ll get this to the fire station and see if he’s there, so you just focus on finding out what happened to your prince charming, alright?”

“He’s not my prince charming!” You squeak, voice even more high pitched than earlier, but Aoi is already on her way out of the door, humming a merry tune to herself. Nervously, you heed her advice and pull out your phone, studying your most recent conversation with Kyoujurou.

The last message he’d sent you had been the evening prior.

Rengoku-san: I hope you’ve had a fantastic day at work! Your customers must be lucky to have your delicious food to strengthen their bodies and warm their hearts, as I am.

Rengoku-san: According to the weather forecast, it seems that it will rain tomorrow morning, so remember to take an umbrella with you. Although it may be cold and wet, I am sure that it will not dampen your spirits!

Rengoku-san: Uzui would like to request for extra onigiri. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow! Thank you very much <3

See? Just a normal conversation between the owner of an eatery and their customer. Chewing on your lower lip, your fingers hover over the keypad, unsure of how you’re supposed to phrase your message.

How are you, Rengoku-san? No, too formal.

Are you alright, Rengoku-san? What if he isn’t sick? The message sounds like you’re assuming that he’s already sick. He might just be busy, and have forgotten about lunch.

Good afternoon, Rengoku-san, I was wondering if you were...

No, you wail internally, hitting the backspace again and again. All of it sounds awful! Absolutely awful! Come on, you can form one sentence right, can’t you?

Taking a deep breath, you stare at the screen of your phone with renewed concentration. “You didn’t come by today to pick up your lunch...” you mutter under your breath as you type out the message carefully. “I had Aoi send the food to the fire house instead. Are you alright?” You hit send before the scraps of courage you managed to gather earlier flee you again.

The message stays at two grey ticks.

You add a ‘:(’ for good measure and toss your phone to the side, too anxious to look at it any longer. Just as you do, there’s a light rap of knuckles on the counter top and you glance up to see on of your regulars, Hakuji, standing there with a big grin, holding out the money for lunch. “No luck with fire boy?”

“I’m not trying to do anything with him!” You exclaim frantically as you take the money from him. You wish your voice sounded believable, at the very least, because Hakuji only raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Oh, is that so?”

“Anyways! How is Koyuki-san doing?” You ask, desperate to change the subject as you root about in the cashier for his change. At the mention of his girlfriend’s name, Hakuji’s eyes soften almost immediately, head tilting back to glance at the slight young woman in the back sipping carefully at her cup of hot tea. His jacket rests around her shoulders.

“Better.” He says, unable to keep the happiness out of his voice. “She loves your chicken soup. It’s the only thing she wants to eat when she’s sick. I like to joke that it’s more effective than the medicine.”

You beam, joy welling up in your chest at the praise. “Well then, in repayment, remember to invite me to your wedding.” You joke, dropping the change into his hand. The man waves goodbye, flashing you a playful grin and a wink, before carefully escorting Koyuki out of the eatery.

Staring after the sweet couple as they leave with a smile, you’re startled when your phone suddenly buzzes, indicating a new message. You take a deep breath and pick up your phone.

Rengoku-san: My deepest apologies, I was feeling under the weather today. My younger brother turned off my alarm, so I ended up sleeping in until now. It’s my fault for forgetting to inform you.

Rengoku-san: I promise I’ll make it up to you the next time I see you. I’m really, really sorry about this.

Rengoku-san: Ahh, it’s only been a day, but I already find myself craving your cooking.

The last message makes you flush a little, but you snap yourself out of it, rereading his messages once again. Not a single exclamation mark? He must really be feeling awful, you think.

Chef-san: It’s no problem!

Chef-san: Rest properly and get well soon, Rengoku-san! I look forward to seeing you again.

Just as you hit send on your reply, a crumpled slip of paper is thrust into your field of vision. Bewildered, you look up to see Aoi standing there, one hand cocked on her hip. “Oh, you’re back from the fire house. What’s this?”

“Rengoku-san’s address.” Aoi says matter of factly, as if it’s perfectly normal for her to have people’s addresses scribbled on random slips of paper. “I got it from the angry white haired man at the fire house.”

You blink. “From Shinazugawa-san? Why?”

“So that you can deliver food to his house, of course.” Aoi nods at the phone in your hand. “Didn’t he say he wants to eat your cooking?”

What Aoi is trying to imply finally pieces itself together in your mind and your mouth falls open in horror at the thought. “You mean, me, deliver food to Rengoku-san’s place? Personally?”

“Exactly.” Your part timer waves the paper in your face even as you continue to gape at her like a goldfish out of water. “He’s sick and you have some chicken soup left over from earlier. You know, the one you made for Koyuki-san? Close shop early after the dinner crowd, go deliver it to him and voila! Affection stats raised instantly!”

You... visiting Kyoujurou’s place... bringing him dinner... “B-but, the washing up–” you stutter, trying to wrap your head around the idea of seeing him outside of your eatery and failing terribly.

Aoi clicks her tongue.

“I’ll take care of it. You, Boss, just need to focus on keeping the soup warm for him. Alright?”

The little slip of paper is pressed into your palm. The words on it stare back at you, as if encouraging you to go give that very special man a visit.

“Okay.” You whisper, clutching it tightly in your hand.

#rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro #kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic

87 notes · View notes

thedumpsterqueen · 4 years ago

Text

Standards of Performance, Chapter 6: Buckshot and Tequila

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Finally, I write most of the chapter before the day I’m supposed to post it. This was mostly done on my laptop (which I’m not used to) as we just moved and my PC is barely set up, so forgive anything that looks weird or wonky. As always, I hope you enjoy. I love getting all your kind messages <3 (Also message me if you want to be on the taglist - I suppose I should be better about that!)

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter: 6, Buckshot and Tequila

Chapter Summary: Events during a new case test your ability to keep your feelings hidden, and a night out takes an unforeseen turn.

Words: 3736

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

Turns out, lying to Hotch was easier than you thought.

It helped that you were lying to yourself too, of course - that you pretended your gaze didn't linger on his form whenever he was in your vicinity, that the swell of pride in your chest when he agreed with something you said was purely professional. There were times, though, that the facade was much harder to maintain. The most recent case had been one of those times.

You had been tracking down an unsub abducting children in a rural Iowa town. Three kids had gone missing in the span of two weeks, and after Garcia matched the victimology and MO with neighboring states, it looked to be close to a dozen in the years before that. The case started off rough enough - locals refused to believe it could be one of their own, police resisted the BAU’s guidance, the usual - but it came to a head when a fourth child went missing during the investigation.

Thankfully, the team figured out the identity of the unsub relatively quickly. Reid did a geographical profile of all the locations where victims were taken and found a public health clinic that had branches in each area. Garcia cross-checked the employee records to find that only one doctor had done travel shifts at each clinic during the time the children were taken, and within minutes, you were rushing to his address.

The SUV carrying Hotch, Rossi, and Prentiss arrived long enough before yours that by the time you pulled up, they were already kicking down the door and entering the home. The first thing you heard after you flung the car door open was the deafening crack of a weapon firing, and despite your lack of training with firearms, it was apparent that it was not an FBI-issue pistol.

You would never describe yourself as fragile - you couldn't be, not in this line of work. But when you registered the implications of that sound, your knees buckled, instantly bringing you down onto the dusty ground outside the farmhouse. The rest of the team sprinted in, guns drawn. You faintly registered Prentiss yelling inside, then more gunshots, but your head was ringing so loudly from the visceral panic that you couldn’t make out anything specific.

When Hotch burst back out onto the porch, you thought you might honestly sob with relief. That is, until you caught the glint of the sun in the slick, dark blood dripping down the sleeve of his suit.

That was when you puked.

Something about the sight of Aaron Hotchner bleeding felt so wrong that even as you struggled to your feet and stepped over the pile of sick you left in the dirt, even as you got closer and saw the rivulets of blood drip down to his fingertips and dot the wooden floors of the porch, you felt like you were in a dream. Your mind couldn’t grasp the sudden shock of his mortality, that he could bleed, that he could die, even, and he very well might, depending on what vessels were hit. You made it up the steps, only managing to call out his name - his first name - your throat still burning from bile. Despite the chaos of the current moment, he still whipped his head around at the sound of that, as if hearing the name Aaron desperately falling from your lips was more attention-grabbing than the rest of the team gathering around him trying to stem the bleeding.

“It looks worse than it is,” said Rossi, peering through the holes in Hotch’s mangled sleeve. “It was just buckshot, and he barely hit you. Nothing a few stitches won’t fix.”

He turned out to be right, thank god, and later that afternoon, Hotch was freshly bandaged and sitting across from you on the return flight to Quantico.

So, yeah, the “lying to yourself” thing wasn’t going so well at that moment. Hotch was absorbed in paperwork while the rest of the team napped - because of course he was; even being shot didn’t sway his apparently relentless refusal to relax - and each time he winced at the movement of his arm, your vice grip around your chest tightened a little more.

He must have sensed you staring, because he looked up, frown softening slightly as he saw the concern on your face.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine,” he assured you with a half smile.

Teetering on an emotional precipice, too scared to respond for fear of falling over the edge, you went back to your reading. After a few minutes of listening to him write while not turning a single page in your book, he set his pen down and took a breath.

“You were screaming my name,” he said, quietly, despite you two being the only ones awake.

“What?”

“Earlier,” he clarified, “when we went into the house. I could hear you outside, yelling my name.”

You looked at him, incredulous. “Of course I did. I heard the shotgun go off. Clearly,” you gestured at his arm, “I had a reason to be worried.”

He shook his head and cleared his throat, as if you didn’t understand the question. “Dave and Emily were with me. Any of us could have gotten hit. You only yelled for me.”

Oh.

You shrugged. “You’re the team leader. It’s my instinct to call for you when something goes wrong."

It was a lie, and a bad one at that, but Hotch gave you an unreadable look and let the subject drop.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, and when you finally made it back to your apartment, you had no plans other than to sleep off the stress of the case and the embarrassment of Hotch calling your actions into question. Garcia, however, wasn't about to let that happen.

BAU-tiful People Group Chat

Garcia: *added You to the conversation*

Garcia: Ok, my lovely children, I know you’re all tired, but I miss your faces, so I’ll see u at Whimsy tonight at 9! Notice I didn’t use a question mark bc it is NOT a question!

You knew from overhearing the team talk that Whimsy was a bar downtown they liked to frequent, but you’d never been invited before. Despite your overwhelming exhaustion, the idea of going out with the team, of finally feeling accepted by them, was enough to make you amenable to the concept. It may have seemed insignificant on the surface, but Garcia adding you to their group chat was the biggest welcome gesture you’d received yet.

Morgan: Only if you wear that dress you know I like ;)

You lived for the day they would realize they were actually flirting with each other instead of just pretending to.

Prentiss: Garcia… you’re killing me… but you know I’ll be there.

JJ: Contacting the babysitter as we speak.

Morgan: Fuck yeah!!! Pretty Boy, you in?

Reid: Can’t we ever go somewhere quiet?

As the group chimed in with various iterations of, “Shut up, Reid,” you hesitantly typed out a text to confirm your attendance. You were excited, of course, but nervous to be the new kid at their favorite hangout. After today's events, though, the desire not to be sober won out over nerves.

You: I’ll be there! Thanks for the invite!

Rossi: Hope you kids are ready for me to drink you under the table, as usual.

Morgan: Eyyy, you KNOW we party hard! See y’all tonight.

____________

Turns out, Morgan was not exaggerating. Not even a little bit. By the time you arrived, 15 minutes late, everyone looked to be at least 3 shots deep. Garcia ran over to greet you, squealing, and wrapped you in a suffocating hug.

“I’m so glad you came! What do you drink? Tequila? I’ll grab the next round!”

You laughed and confirmed that tequila sounded great, and as she scurried off to the bar with Morgan on her heels, you had a chance to look around.

The atmosphere of the club surprised you - it was all glass and steel and modernity, packed with people dancing to something with intense bass - not the low-key joint you’d pictured the team wanting to unwind at. But as you watched JJ, Prentiss, and Rossi cheer on Reid as he threw back a shot, doubling over in hysterics as he coughed and sputtered at the taste, you realized that this place was just loud and energetic enough to keep them from thinking about anything other than work. In that way, you definitely saw the appeal.

“I come bearing shots!” Garcia yelled as her and Morgan made it back to the table. “Grab yours… here we go- whoops! Alright, everyone got theirs?”

She turned to you, grinning behind a pair of hot pink spectacles. “Cheers not ONLY to rescuing four kidnapped children alive, but also to our lovely intern and her first Whimsy outing!”

The team erupted in cheers and you smiled back, downing the tequila. You chatted with the group while Garcia ordered more drinks, and then more drinks, and soon you felt a pleasant buzz filling your head.

“Morgan, you better ask me to dance right now before I go find another man to do the job,” Garcia said with a wink in his direction.

Morgan grinned and mock-bowed, holding out a hand for her to take, and led her off to the dancefloor.

“Should we join them?” JJ asked around the table.

“Someone’s gotta make sure they don’t do anything worth getting kicked out for,” Prentiss shot back. You giggled and followed the girls, leaving Rossi and Reid behind at the table in the midst of a heated debate about childhood brain development that you couldn’t even hope to comprehend.

Not long after you started dancing, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder and turned around, looking up into the stunning green eyes of a man who looked to be about your age. It was hard to really tell what he looked like in the dim lighting, but by the way Prentiss was giving you a thumbs up and mouthing, “Go for it,” from your side, he was good enough for you.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked above the music. You smiled and nodded in confirmation, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to his hips.

He knew how to move, that was for certain. He ground against your backside lightly, snaking his hands around your stomach. You weren’t used to this kind of thing - dancing with random men at bars, letting them touch you like this - but the combination of the music and the booze and the relief at the last case being over was making you feel more free than you had in recent memory.

You exchanged grins with Morgan, who was dancing a few feet away in a much more R-rated manner with Garcia. The man behind you (whose name you didn’t know, but who cared?) leaned down to kiss your neck and you arched against him in response, reaching up to run your hand through his hair.

Throughout the song, you had rotated back to facing the table where the rest of your team was sitting. You glanced over, saw Reid and Rossi still deep in discussion, along with another man in a black button-up with a very familiar side profile and-

Hotch.

Hotch was here, and as if the powers that be were insistent upon proving to you that the opposite of serendipity existed, at the exact moment you had that realization, he turned and made direct eye contact with you. Drunk, wearing a skintight dress, a random man grinding on your ass, and staring right back at your Unit Chief at the motherfucking Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and if you had been drunker, you might have hurled tequila all over the dancefloor. Instead, you pulled away from the mystery man behind you, ignoring his shocked, “Wait!” and beelined to the bar.

“Tequila. Shot. Please, I’m sorry, just saw someone I didn’t expect to,” you blurted out to the bartender, swearing you could feel Hotch’s eyes on your back from across the club.

The bartender, probably having seen much worse, nodded in understanding and poured your drink. You gulped it down, wiped your mouth, and leaned on the bar to get your bearings.

It’s not weird. It’s not. It’s a bar, it’s outside of work hours, it’s perfectly fine that you’re buzzed and dancing and having fun. Everyone else is!

Really, it wasn’t that you were worried about your job, or even that he would judge you (he probably would, but that was unavoidable regardless of the setting), it was just that you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself for the possibility that he would come. He was in the group chat - obviously, if he had seen Garcia’s invite - but had never struck you as the social type, the kind of boss that would interact with his team outside of work.

“Did you see that Hotch is here?” Prentiss asked breathlessly, appearing at the bar beside you.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one surprised.

“I did,” you whispered back, despite the thumping music and the rowdy patrons making it logically impossible for your words to reach the table 20 feet away. “Does he usually join you guys?”

“Never,” she said, before thinking and correcting herself, “Not in years, anyways. When Haley… we used to drag him out, but we stopped after a while.”

“Why do you think he came tonight?"

She shrugged. “Who knows? Far be it from me to explain why Hotch does anything.” An idea seemed to pop in her head, and she grinned. “Maybe it’s because of you!”

“M-me?” Your reaction to the suggestion wasn’t nearly as nonchalant as you’d tried for, but Prentiss was too drunk to notice.

“Yeah, gotta help initiate the intern on her first night out, right?” She grinned and clapped you on the shoulder, then turned away to head back to the dancefloor, leaving you alone. You sighed, gathered yourself as much as you could considering the effects of the tequila, and turned around to go greet him.

“Hey, Agent Hotchner. Didn’t expect to see you tonight!”

“Yes, well. Thought I’d show up for a bit; it’s been a while.” He gave you a tight lipped smile then looked back down at his glass of whisky, the awkward energy palpable.

Probably because he just saw you basically dry-humping some random dude.

“Well, I’m glad you came! Feel free to, uh, come dance if you want! Morgan and Garcia are showing us all up,” you said, gesturing to where Morgan and Garcia were in fact drawing the attention of several onlookers.

He chuckled at that. “They’re certainly a sight to behold, aren’t they?”

You nodded in agreement and headed back to the bar, the brief conversation pointing you towards yet another drink. Talking to him was so easy , sometimes, and others it was like pulling teeth to get a human response out of him. Could you blame him, though? Your last one-on-one interaction was you basically inviting yourself over to his apartment with takeout and listening to him spill his guts about his dead wife and kid, and he probably felt uncomfortable with you after that, and then you went right to this case without any chance for things to go back to normal, and then he got shot, and oh my god, you didn’t even ask him how his arm was doing, how fucking rude can you be, dumbass? and-

“Whoops! Shit, I’m sorry!”

You looked at the person you’d just bumped into in the midst of your internal crisis.

“Hey, it’s you!”

The man you’d been dancing with earlier, now much more obviously handsome in the brighter lights of the bar area, grinned in recognition.

“Hey, I thought I’d scared you off there!”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, I’m sorry. Just saw my boss and freaked out a little bit.”

“Oh shit, your boss is here?” he asked. “That’s uncomfortable, damn. I’m sorry.”

“No worries, it’s just… yeah. Anyways. Wanna pick up where we left off?” you asked, more desperate than ever to get Hotch out of your head. If he didn’t want to see you having a wild night, he shouldn’t have come to the club.

He took your hand, looking pleased. “Lead the way.”

It really was so much easier, you thought, to let yourself feel attraction for guys like this. Uncomplicated, willing to take what you give them, no backstory to speak of. They weren’t riddled with tragic history, unattainable in both position and personality, not to mention impossible to even imagine ever returning your feelings. Guys like Cooper (you’d finally learned his name somewhere amid the grinding and groping) were easy and fun and they didn’t keep you up at night agonizing over whether that thing you said at work was impressive enough.

But then again, they didn’t give you the roller-coaster feeling in your stomach that Aaron Hotchner did every time you locked eyes.

And lock eyes you did - an increasingly frequent number of times, actually. It seemed like whenever you turned to face his direction, he was staring you down. He always went back to his conversation with Rossi and Reid, but you noticed that he seemed to get more and more pissed off with every song that played. His frown was deepened, his expression dark, and you could tell even from a distance that his knuckles were white from gripping his glass.

You shrugged it off as Hotch being Hotch - who knew what that man was thinking? And besides, you were trying to forget him, damn it. At least, that was until a particularly raunchy song came on and you were in the middle of getting your ass felt up, when you felt a hand squeeze your shoulder and whip you around, bringing you face-to-face with your boss himself.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is something wrong?” you asked, utterly bewildered as to why he was interrupting you.

He ignored you, instead staring down Cooper, who very quickly decided Hotch wasn’t one to fuck with and walked away.

“Hotch! Is there a case? Should I grab the others?”

He shook his head. “Can you come with me, please?”

Perplexed, you acquiesced (not that you had much of a choice, with the way he was gripping your elbow) and followed him through the crowd, out the back door, and into an alley. He let go of you then, sighing and crossing his arms.

Your mind was wild with questions - did you do something you shouldn’t have? Get too drunk? Everyone was drunk, though, and you weren’t even half as wasted as some of the others. Did Reid or Rossi tell him something bad about you? Were you about to somehow get yourself fired off the clock?

“The boy you were dancing with was bad news,” he said, after an uncomfortably long period of silence.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” you repeated, this time out loud, and you knew you shouldn’t be talking to him like this, but you were too caught off guard to conduct yourself more appropriately.

“He was a drug user,” Hotch said, as if that would explain everything.

“A drug user,” you repeated back, no less confused.

“Cocaine,” he continued. “He was high - his pupils were dilated, he was rubbing his nose, and he's been to the bathroom several times.”

“So… you’re going to arrest him? For doing cocaine?” you asked, still baffled as to what he was insinuating.

“What? No,” he said, “I’m trying to warn you not to get involved.”

You had entered some parallel universe, you decided. There was no other explanation for your boss, a man you’d known all of four months, dragging you outside a bar on a Friday night and telling you not to dance with a hot stranger because he was on cocaine.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before you really did get yourself fired. “Sir, I appreciate the concern, but I don’t think it’s really any of your business.”

His face hardened at that. “It is exactly my business,” he said, eyes boring a hole through your skull, “to watch out for things that may compromise my team.”

“Compromise your team?” you repeated his words again. “I was dancing, not getting engaged to the guy.”

“Should I allow you to dance with a sexual sadist if it’s just dancing?” he pressed, using the stern voice that usually caused any sort of dissent to whither and die right in your throat.

It didn’t work this time, probably because he was acting fucking insane. “Are you seriously comparing a sexual sadist to a guy who does cocaine while he’s out partying?”

“It’s not just while he’s out partying, by the way he conducted himself, he was a chronic-”

“It doesn’t matter!” you said, nearly yelling now. “You had no right! I'm sorry, what are you, my dad?!”

His eyes flashed at that. “If I hadn’t already had to sit through an 8 hour surgery not knowing if Garcia was going to make it out alive because her date shot her, then perhaps I would have no right. But as it stands, I do. Please be more careful with who you associate with, even if it’s just dancing.”

He spat that last part out, more vitriolic than you’d ever seen him, and stalked back inside. You were left outside in the alley, alone, reeling from confusion surrounding the entire interaction and shock at the emotional charge he’d leveled at you.

Reentering the bar, you saw that Hotch’s seat had been vacated and his jacket was gone. You rolled your eyes, and on your way to the bathroom, nearly ran into Cooper again.

“Hey!” he said. “What was that all about? You good?”

You looked up at his face and for the first time, noticed faint traces of white dust around his nose. He looked keyed up, jumpy - his pulse racing and visible on his carotid. You sighed.

“I’m good. Just not in the mood right now, sorry,” and pushed past him into the bathroom.

Hotch was an emotionally stunted asshole with a control complex, but he was also never fucking wrong.

201 notes · View notes

pink-peony-princess · 4 years ago

Text

Ruin

-Ellen-

I stood staring in the bathroom mirror at the large pink scar that snaked across my forehead from my left temple to just above my right eyebrow.

It had been almost three months now, and I was still in pain, some days it felt like I couldn't escape it.

I lifted my shirt to show my tummy, yet another angry looking pink scar this one jagged from where the glass had gotten me. It still pain, dull ache ever-present, the itch constant. I frowned, frustrated with how long everything was taking to heal.

"Morning baby," Shawn whispered into my neck,coming to rest his head softly on my shoulder and smiling at me in the mirror.

"Hey," I couldn't help the small smile that pulled at the corner of my lips. He was so beautiful, even first thing in the morning, dressed in an ugly washed-out green coloured pair of scrubs,ready for another day as a doctor in the local emergency department.

"What was that frown I saw before I walked in?" he asked, still watching me in the mirror.

I sighed, "Im just sick of being sore and having these ugly scars all over my body. I can't get it out of my head," I whispered, feeling the tears welling up, an all to familiar occurance these days.

"It's gonna take some time baby," he murmured, pulling me to his chest and holding me tightly.

"Yeah I know," I sighed leaning back into his hold. He really had been the best thing and he had quite literally saved my life, both physically and mentally. Our relationship had never felt forced, we'd just naturally fallen for one another, but if I was being honest I would never have imagined to be where I was today three months ago.

-Three Months Earlier-

-Third person-

"This is a trauma call for an eta of ten minutes," a voice came over the Emergency Department intercom.

"I hate trauma calls," Brian sighed as he got geared up, placing the label that declared him to be team leader onto his protective gown, before pulling a fresh pair of gloves on to replace the ones he had just used to help stitch up a little girl's head after she took a tumble.

"Is the bed all ready?" he asked, ducking his head around the curtain of the only free bay in the department. It had been one of those nights, and it was only eight, meaning that he was only two hours into a twelve-hour shift.

"Almost," his college, and fellow critical care doctor, Connor spoke as he wheeled the crash cart into place, and situated the supplies draw.

"What do we know so far?" Michael, another doctor asked, coming to stand by the other two doctors.

"Adult female, hit and run, while crossing the street." Connor spoke, while glancing down to check his watch for the time remaining before they were set to arrive.

"That sounds nasty," Michael commented, wincing slightly in sympathy. "It's a good thing the nurses decided to page Ortho I suppose, it sounds like you'll be needing my expertise," he turned to face his colleague.

"I hate to say it, but I'd have to agree," Brian replied, sharing a knowing look with the other two doctors.

All three of them knew that pedestrian hit and runs where never good, and there was a high rate of critical injuries sustained, and of course these were usually inflicted on the innocent party. They didn't speak for several minutes, each fidgeting, just wanting to start helping the poor girl already. They didn't say it, but they knew it wouldn't be pretty. This has been confirmed when they got a message via one of the nurses, saying that Shawn, one of their friends and fellow colleague, and, emergency care physician was on route to the scene of the accident after the paramedics requested his help. This was not something that happened ogten, and only when completely necessary. The hospital liked to keep Ashton there as his expertise was so useful in many of the situations that the department faced.

-Ellen-

All I could feel was pain. Pain everywhere. Every inch of my body was hurting.

I tried to piece together how I had come to be here, but was met with some unknown resistance when I tried to turn my head, and survey my surroundings. "Stay still honey. We're going to get you to the hospital shortly, but just bear with us okay," a voice spoke from somewhere above my head. It was then that I became aware of the hands touching me, and instinctively I tried to pull away. "Dave, I think It'll be best to sedate her for the time being," a different voice spoke. That was the last thing I was aware of before I woke to bright lights, and calm, but still somehow urgent, voices.

-Third Person-

When Shawn and Dave arrived on scene, it was worse then they had expected. The poor girl was laying in the middle of what would normally be a busy street, onlookers everywhere watching with baited breath. "Can we move some of these guys out of here?" Shawn asked one of the many police officers that were standing around, waiting for direction. The last thing his patient needed was an audience when they were completely defenceless.

When they finally managed to push their way through the crowd of people, and get the relevant equipment set up, it was to find that things were much more complicated and critical then they had first thought.

"What do we know?" Dave, the paramedic on the case asked.

"They've not been able to give us much, but they're saying that someone ran a red, hit her, and took off. They're trying to run the plates now, track the person down," a burly police officer spoke. " I'll leave you guys to it," he spoke, patting them both on the shoulder, before getting up and going to help the other officers control the swelling crowds,"

As they both surveyed the situation, the injuries were clear to see. The girl had dislocated her left shoulder, broken her collarbone, and from the blood soaking through her pants and the angle of her right ankle, she had a compound fracture. Perhaps more concerning though was the blood that was fishing from a open head wound above her eyebrow, and flowing from her nose. The latter was usually a sign of internal bleeding.

"Hello?" Shawn spoke, as Dave started getting the collar ready. "If you can hear me, give my hand a squeeze okay," he continued slipping his gloved hand into the girl's bloody one, and praying there was a response.

After a moment there was, and they both thanked the heavens.

"Sweetheart, my name is Shawn, I'm a doctor, and this is Dave. Can you remember your name?" Shawn asked, leaning down in the hopes of hearing the young woman's response.

"Ellen," she whispered. It was barley there, but it was still a response.

"Okay Ellen, this is going to be uncomfortable, but we need to put this collar on you so that you don't hurt your neck or back okay. And then we'll get you to the hospital," Dave reassured her, before going about fixing the hard plastic to the girl. Both the medics had had to put the collar on to experience what it was like for the patients, and it was uncomfortable to say the least. Neither one could fathom how bad it would be to have injuries on top of this.

They both felt dreadful when Ellen started trying to claw at the collar, desperately trying to get it off, tears flooding down her bloody face.

"I know sweets, it's okay," Shawn tried to comfort her once they were in the ambulance and had hooked her up to an I.V. with pain medication.

"Shawn, I think It'll be best to sedate her for the time being," he informed his partner, getting the sedative ready.

"Can you check her vitals again please?" he requested, "And get some oxygen on her for good measure," he added, before stepping out of the ambulance and heading to the driver's side. "I think she's stable enough to go," he added, before starting towards the hospital with lights and sirens on, indicating that this was a life-threatening situation.

In the back of the vehicle, Shawn was going about checking her pupil reaction, which turned out to be slow, indicating a moderate concussion. After this, he placed a mask on the girl, ensuring that the saturation levels were as high as possible, as after attaching her to the relative monitors, it was found that she was only satting a 80%.

Finally, he went about checking the heart and lungs, and by this point they were beginning to pull into the hospital, which relieved the medic immensely.

They were met with a team of people at the entrance, Shawn was glad to see this included his three colleagues, Michael, Connor and Brian.

"What do we have?" Brian asked, stepping behind the gurney to help Shawn push it now that Dave had left on a new call.

"This is Ellen, she was hit by a car side-on while crossing the road. She's got a dislocated shoulder, broken collar bone and a compound fracture to the ankle. Possible internal bleeding and concussion. The paramedic also found some swelling, possibly indicating spleen bruising. Lacerations to the head, with nasal bleeding. Her BP is low, same with heart rate, lungs sound normal, standard dose of pain medication given on route." He finished as they made it to the bay that had been set up before their arrival.

"Okay, I want a CT, scan of the head and abdomen and spine, and can someone get me an ultrasound machine, stat, and in the mean time let's get her hooked moved on the the bed so we can start preliminary examinations. On my count!" Brian commanded, directing the team in transferring her safely to the hospital bed.

-Ellen-

The first thing I was aware of when I came to be was the bright lights above me, making me want to shut my eyes again almost instantly. After this, it was an annoying tickling sensation on my face. I moved my hand to try and swipe it away, but was met with resistance.

"Leave it there, Ellen," a calm voice spoke. A young man came into view then. "My name is Brian I'm one of the doctors looking after you, do you know where you are?"

"In the hospital," I answered, beginning to feel overwhelmed at the gravity of the situation, which was only made worse when I realised I couldn't move anything apart from my arms.

"Just try to stay nice and calm for me, you'll be fine, we just need to do a few tests and then we should be able to get you out of this contraption," he smiled sympathetically.

"Shawn?" he called. Another youngish looking doctor, this time with tanned skin, dark hair curly hair and several visible tattoos came over.

"You called?" he asked, before turning to me. "Hi Ellen, my names Shawn," he introduced himself with a smile, "I'm another one of the doctors."

"I want to roll her to do a spinal check,"

"No problem, so on three, I'm going to roll you onto your side and Brian is going to check for sensation." He explained to me, seeing the confusion I was feeling.

A few minutes later, they determined that my spine was fine, and this was confirmed by scans they had done when I was out, that came back fine.

"There you go, that's got to feel better," Shawn smiled, readjusting the blankets to provide me with more modesty.

"Ellen, are you in any pain?" Brian asked, coming over and shining a small light in my eyes.

"My tummy is really sore, and my shoulder and chest area," I told him.

"Okay, I'll get the nurse to increase the hourly dosage, there's no reason you should be in pain. You'll probably still be a little sore though, you've got a bruised spleen, which given time will heal, but you'll be tender for a while. As for your chest, you broke your collar bone on impact. We've put your arm into a sling to help limit the movement and give it an opportunity to heal. You did dislocate your other shoulder though, and we're going to have to put it back into place- don't worry though, we've got Michael doing it for you, and we're going to dose you up so you won't remember a thing," he laughed, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

"You needed me?" yet another doctor walked in, dyed blonde hair, sitting across his face. "Sorry," he added, "There was an emergency in the pit,"

"Ellen, this is Michael, are you ready?" Shawn asked.

"Mmmmm?" I responded unsure.

"You'll be fine," he responded, going to adjust my meds.

To the say that the process was painful would be the understatement of the year, and I may have called all three of them some uncomplimentary names, but after the fact I got some immediate relief.

The rest of the night was spent getting my many cuts stitched up, with the doctors, helping to keep me distracted by talking to me about my everyday life. I ended up in tears when I was introduced to Shawn again,apparently I'd met him a few times before, but I really couldn't remember, who I was told was one of the main people who got me to the hospital. "It's okay," he had spoken, giving me a gentle hug. "It's what we do!" he smiled, grabbing a tissue and wiping the tears off my face.

"They told me you're studying vet science?" he asked, sitting down on a chair next to the bed Connor another doctor and Brian went back to stitching me up. I felt my whole face break into a smile.

"Yep, I'm already a certified carer, but I wanted to take the next step."

"I really admire that," he told me, "Hopefully we'll be able to get that ankle of yours fixed up first thing tomorrow and onto the road of recovery." he spoke, referring to the compound fracture in my ankle that Shawn had told me about not long after I woke. Admittedly, I had thrown up when he told me what a compound fracture was, and had gone into a panic when he explained it would need surgery, but he had calmed me quickly.

"You'll be fine, you've got the best Ortho in the place working on you, Michael. You won't know anything happened once he's done, and you're all healed.

The coming weeks were filled with highs and lows, the surgery went well, and there was no post op infection, something that made all the doctors very happy, however the pain was almost unbearable at times, and they had to give me multiple pep talks to get me through it. I did it though, we their help.

The experience had helped to shape me, and when it was finally time to leave, I knew that I was leaving with four new friends.

But the one person I could always count on was Shawn. He helped me through everything, physio appointments, monthly reviews but above everything else he was a shoulder to lean on, someone to cry to when things got tough. And I guess through all of that our relationship had blossomed without us even realising. But one thing was for sure...

-Present Day-

I turned smiling now, as Shawn looked down at me I uttered the five words that meant so much to me.

"You save me from Ruin."

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagines #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes blurb #doctor!shawn #mendes triplets #werewolf!shawn #peter mendes #raul mendes #shawnblr

31 notes · View notes

julemmaes · 4 years ago

Text

Pinky Promise - Chapter Two

A/N: LMAAAO GOOD LUCK FUCKERS

Fic Masterlist

Word count: 4,378

"Could this fit?" Amren asked, showing her an all-black sheath dress with a delicate slit on the thigh. Nesta grimaced and shook her head. Amren puffed and continued to look through the clothes for something suitable for her dinner with Cassian.

Amren had texted her in the middle of the morning and she could never refuse. They had gone out for lunch, between classes, so they could do some shopping while catching up on their lives. Amren worked as a photographer for one of the biggest and best known nonprofit organizations in the country and it was more than rare that they managed to see each other.

When she got out of high school and started working as a freelance photographer, Nesta had been a little hesitant. She had always liked Amren's pictures and thought that her friend had a unique talent, but she was not experienced in the field and was worried that she would never make it in such an unstable profession. And then one day Amren showed up at her house and announced to everyone that she had won a competition to be part of an exploration team that would leave a few months later for the Arctic. She had been away for months, but when she came back she had brought someone with her and the beginning of a career that would make her famous all over the continent for her shots.

Amren and Varian had been together for three years now and had traveled the world, both working for the same channel.

Every time Cassian or Rhysand pointed out to her that she had no more places to visit she stared at the void smiling, always repeating the same thing: "I haven't even started yet."

For now, however, she would stay a couple of weeks in Velaris, while Varian visited his family in Adriata and afterwards they would leave for Lunathion. Amren never failed to remember that this was a huge project, which would allow her to break through to other countries and perhaps find a more important position.

Nesta showed an orange dress with many fringes and a lot of tulle to Amren, who burst out laughing and crossed her arms to make a cross. Nesta snorted and continued her search.

"Yesterday, while I was on a call with Varian, his mother appeared," the friend suddenly said. Nesta turned towards her. Amren imitated her, with a grim face, "She started talking about marriage."

"She did what?" Nesta asked, laughing at the evident panic of her friend.

Amren frowned, "Don't be a bitch, you know how I feel about marriage."

Nesta nodded, continuing to sift through the various dresses. Amren had never been prone to marriage. Growing up in a family with divorced parents who argued every three seconds to decide who was entitled to what - the daughter included - she had never thought that one day it might be a possible option.

When Amren didn't speak for a while, Nesta urged her, "So? Do you want to marry Varian?"

"No!" the other replied alarmed, instantly, then she corrected herself, "Yes?" she grunted, scratching her nose, "I don't know."

Nesta reasoned about it for a few seconds, taking a pastel blue dress and putting it in the bag with the others she had already picked up, "Would it be such a bad thing to consider marriage as a possibility in the future?" she asked her cautiously, not wanting to upset her friend.

"I don't know honestly," sighed Amren, "I love Varian. I really do. But the idea that I have thanks to my parents has nothing to do with what he has. It has nothing to do with what you have too," she said, looking her in the eye. She was right. The example her parents had given her, before they both died, was the example of a perfect marriage, with a mutual relationship of respect and love. Her parents had been best friends before they were married and there hadn't been a day in their lives when they blamed each other for whatever problems they had.

Amren's parents, on the other hand, had divorced when she was still a child and the girl only remembered how hard it was to go from one house to another every week and how hard it was to live with both of them during the custody case. It had not been a good childhood for her. She had not spoken to her mother or father for two years, from all Nesta knew.

"You know, marriage isn't the same for everyone," Nesta began, "and it's not a necessary step in a couple's life. I don't want to tell you what is best for you, because I don't know. But I think you should talk to Varian about it," she told her in a light tone, "I'm sure he will understand whatever you tell him."

Amren nodded, almost distracted, then shook her head. "And you? How are you going to ask him?" she wondered, trying to change the subject.

Nesta indulged her, being more than happy to talk about her proposal, "Do you know the saga that he and I read? The one about the knight and the prince?"

It was Amren's turn to laugh, "Your eyes sparkle every time you mention A Knight's Tales".

"So you listen to me when I talk about it."

Amren raised an eyebrow, mumbling, "It's quite impossible not to when all you and that brute boyfriend of yours do is talk about those books."

"Anyway," she waved her hand midair, "in the last book of the saga, Adelaide, the knight," - I know who Adelaide is - "asks the prince to run away with her and he asks her where they could possibly go and she answers that she bought a house in a faraway town just for the two of them. A place where they can be alone and quiet. Where no one will ever be able to find them," she says smiling, thinking what she would have said. "I got him one of the first editions, that book cost me an arm and a leg and it's two hundred years old."

"The fact that you want to run away from your sisters is quite worrying." Amren joked, making her laugh. "And unfortunately I already knew about this part of the story." she continued in a slightly demented tone, as if she had resigned herself to having to know every slightest detail of the series.

Nesta fixed her hair behind her ear, heading towards the dressing rooms, "I think Feyre wants to leave that apartment too and Elain is practically kicking us out."

"What do you mean?" asked Amren curiously.

They both locked themselves in a dressing room and Nesta immediately undressed, feeling her hair rising because of the cold, "She's bringing I-don't-know-how-many plants into the house. Much more than usual. She' is practically taking oxygen away from us to give it to those things." she heard Amren laughing in the dressing room next to hers.

"Do you already know where Feyre will go?"

She shook her head, putting on her first dress. A long black dress, heavy enough to protect her from the cold. "No, I haven't mentioned it to her yet. But anyway, she has until the end of May to arrange things, I have no intention of starting to move in the middle of the exams."

Amren muttered something before saying, "I can't wait to know how Cassian will react when I point out to him that you beat him to the punch".

"Me too."

Then Amren surprised her, "Are you nervous?"

She didn't have to think twice. She smiled, "No, I'm not."

They kept talking about this and that for the rest of the afternoon, until Nesta had to go back to university and Amren went back to her studio apartment. She had a lecture on Space Systems and when she got home it was already six o'clock, only Elain was on the couch watching some documentary about ancient tribes. Feyre must have gone out to avoid getting asked questions, thing that Elain had surely done.

Cassian had sent her a message before she went into class and confirmed that he would be there, having put Azriel in charge of the bar for that evening.

She made a reservation for 8:30 at their favorite restaurant and carefully wrapped the book, placing a bookmark in the right place so that Cassian could open it and read the first line of the page.

Run away with me. Live with me.

Everything was perfect.

Or so it should have been.

***

Cassian was about to be sick.

Before leaving the house, Rhysand, who was preparing the lesson for his children at the kitchen table, wished him good luck and warned him that he would not be home that night, to give them some privacy in case they needed it. He would be at Mor's.

Now, Nesta was looking at him on the other side of the table with a smile on her face and was telling him about the last topics she had learned in class, something about all the protocols to follow in case of a malfunction of the craft, and normally he would have listened to her in detail, but tonight he couldn't concentrate on the words she was saying.

When he had seen her coming out of the door of her building, in that new pastel blue dress, which wrapped her body perfectly, he had run his hand over the eyes, bewildered. She couldn't be real. She couldn't be his.

When he had kissed her and told her that she was beautiful and she answered him that he was just as handsome, Cassian had almost thought of putting it off another time. He could have waited a few more days.

He didn't want to break this balance of theirs. It was not a precarious balance. It was solid.

Their relationship was perfect. They had no problems and they had never had big, insurmountable ones. This would have destroyed them in one way or another and Cassian knew it.

"Babe?"

Cassian seemed startled, he blinked a couple of times. Nesta was looking at him with a raised eyebrow and an amused expression on her face.

"I'm sorry, I know you're not interested in this stuff, but I'm so excited-"

Cassian stopped her immediately, reaching over the table and taking her hand, "Don't say that, you know I'm interested in everything you say. Whether it's engineering or the color of the new plant that Elain brought home." he smiled at her. Her grip on his fingers tightened.

"Today's one has purple leaves, it's pretty," she replied thinking of her sister. Then she got serious, "Are you okay?"

He nodded, sighing, "I'm just a little tired, down in the dumps," he said, tilting his head to the side, not really lying. "Rhys went to work this morning and when he came back he was doing better - the power of children I guess - but he's still feeling bad about last night. Did you get to talk to Feyre?" he asked more concerned than anything else. He didn't like meddling in other people's business, but everyone's sanity was at stake here. Especially the sanity of who he considered his little sister.

One of their waiters put their desserts on the table. Cassian thanked him with a smile before turning all his attention to Nesta again.

She grimaced, taking her hand away from his and starting to eat, "I didn't see or hear from her at all. Elain says she had lunch with her and they talked a little, but she didn't want to tell me anything and had to go back to the store right after." she took the cherry on her pie and put it on his plate, "Maybe I was wrong to go out with Amren today, I should have gone home too."

Cassian made a sound of disapproval, "Don't worry, she wouldn't have said anything if you'd been there." he smiled at her. "You're not very kind when it comes to Tamlin."

"Well, he's never done anything to deserve my kindness," said Nesta bluntly.

"He did pay a portion of Feyre's college fees, Nes. He got her into that crazy school," said Cassian, almost not believing his own ears. Was he defending Tamlin?

"Feyre would have gotten into the Academy even without daddy's help, and one way or another we would have been able to pay for it ourselves," she continued, giving Cassian another cherry. He knew that she liked cherries as much as he did, but she did it with so much peace of mind that he often wondered if she realized how much she spoiled him sometimes.

"I know she would have been able to get in on her own, but since she's so stubborn to stay with that tool, she might as well use it as such and empty his wallet," joked Cassian.

Nesta chuckled, "You're right."

They finished their desserts in silence and then Nesta looked him in the eyes with so much emotion that Cassian's head spun. He smiled sweetly at her, whispering a I love you, and then she bent over to the side, grabbed her bag and pulled out a brown packet.

He frowned when she handed it to him and took it hesitantly, she looked at him smiling, "What is it?"

***

Cassian was about to open the gift when Nesta started talking, "A few years ago you started talking to me about a stupid book called The Soft Blade. It was about a struggling woman, a woman knight who carried out impossible missions. And of a prince forced to a life at court. Forced to chase the woman who offered the most."

The man in front of her was confused, but this time he was really listening to her, more than interested in yet another conversation about his favorite saga. His fingers still on the wrapping paper.

"I remember starting it only out of curiosity, besides your constant begging. And while you find the fighting and adventure part fascinating, I have never found anything that makes me feel more emotional than Adelaide and Constantin." Nesta shook a hand to tell him to unpack the gift.

She saw Cassian stiffen but smile faintly when he realized what she had given him.

"In The Last Battle, there is a very important part." she whispered, joining hands on the table, feeling some of that nerves Amren had talked about a few hours earlier, "Adelaide asks Constantin to run away with her, to go live with her in a place away from everything and everyone." Cassian opened the book where the red cloth bookmark popped out of the pages. He touched the paper, reading under his breath.

"Run away with me. Live with me."

Nesta waited a few seconds, giving him time to understand what she was implying with that simple but at the same time important gift. "I've been through hell in the last few years. I've earned every shred of happiness I have now and you've been the person who has been closest to me all this time." she was so excited that she could have started dancing in the middle of the room, "We have waited long enough, Cass. We have had enough patience and now we can finally start thinking about what our future will hold. Together."

It had been years since she made any serious decisions without first consulting him, but that together, pronounced at that moment, had more meaning than it had ever had in the past.

That's why when Cassian looked up at her and Nesta saw his eyes, it felt like the air was pushed out of her lungs.

She felt her stomach twist and she knew that if she had a mirror in front of her now she would look at a ghost. She put her hands on her lap, clenching her fists.

Cassian was looking at her sadly, with his jaw tight and the look of someone who has to give bad news.

"Nesta..." the waiter who had served them for the entire evening interrupted him, asking if they wanted anything else.

"The check, please. Quickly if possible, we have to go somewhere else." replied Nesta without looking at Cassian and giving her credit card to the boy.

Cassian leaned over the table, looking at her, "Nesta, listen to me."

"Not here," she said, getting up and starting to collect her things.

"Please, let me explain." he begged her, taking her hand. Nesta snatched him off without too much effort and approached his chair looking him in the face. Whatever he had to explain, Nesta knew it would raise hell.

"I said not here, not that we wouldn't talk about it," she said, thanking the waiter and taking back her card. She left the restaurant, without worrying about waiting for Cassian.

They got into the car in silence and he carefully laid the book inside the compartment in the trunk. When he didn't start the car immediately, Nesta stretched out on the seat, snatched the keys from his hand and slipped them into the patch, starting the car. "Drive."

"Nes, can I first explain why I reacted like this?" when she didn't answer, Cassian took it as an invitation to continue, "I want to live with you, my answer to your question is yes. I want to spend the rest of my life with you-"

"Stop it." she said through her teeth, "Stop it, please. Let's go home." her voice broke.

Saying those words hurt her more than usual. Home.

That was not their home.

Cassian tried to take her hand and she moved it, crossing her arms and turning towards the window.

The ride from the restaurant to his apartment was agonizing. Nesta was not good at being alone with her thoughts.

They had spent the last seven years of their lives saying I love you, being there for each other. They had shared joy and anger and pain. They had gotten through high school together and would get through college in a few months. The last two years of their lives had been a constant moving of clothes from one apartment to another.A constant fantasy about how they would decorate their bathroom and bedroom. What colors they would paint the walls of their children's rooms, when the time came.

One day Cassian had told her "I will put a giant picture of you, on our wedding day, on the wall of the fireplace that we'll have in the living room, so that every person who walks through the door will be jealous of how beautiful my wife is."

His wife. That sentence had held so many promises.

Nesta had taken for granted a future with the man sitting next to her. He'd made it clear to her several times that they would spend the rest of their lives together, that they would grow old hand in hand. She had just told him this just a few minutes ago, so what was stopping him?

She dared to look in his direction and Nesta noticed how pained his expression was, the way he held the steering wheel an obvious sign of frustration. She saw it in the way his arm was twitching that he was holding back not to touch her.

Maybe he had been unwell lately and she hadn't noticed it. Maybe she had paid too much attention to her family and neglected Cassian and now he was realizing that he didn't want to be with her anymore and he was just buying time to find a nice way to break up with her.

Even the thought of having to live without Cassian by her side took her breath away.

Whatever was going on in their relationship they would deal with it together, as they had always done. Nesta was just overwhelmed by emotions and didn't give him time to explain himself.

That's why she reached out her hand to him, intertwining her little finger with his, in that simple childish promise to which they were so accustomed.

Cassian turned towards her, almost losing control of the car, he swallowed and squeezed his little finger around hers, nodding almost imperceptibly.

Nesta was carried back years to the day her father died. Cassian had grabbed her by the shoulders shaking her when she stopped answering him. He had held her face in his hands and hugged her, and when he had pulled away and put his little finger in front of her eyes, she hadn't had the strength to ask him what he was doing. Cassian had looked her straight in the eye, "I promise I won't leave you alone tonight and as long as you need me."

She had almost yelled at him that she didn't need to do this crap at such a critical moment, that she had to run to Feyre and Elain, but when he had taken her hand and squeezed her finger around his, she had found immense comfort in that small gesture that until then they had only used for things of minimal importance.

They arrived to his apartment and went up the stairs, their hands joined only by their pinkies. Not a word said in the midst of that chaos.

They detached only when Cassian had to open the door and once inside the kitchen Nesta spoke.

"I love you, Cassian. I love you with every fiber of my being and I know..." she said interrupting him immediately when he tried to spoke, "I know that you love me as much, so I understand that there must be something really important if you haven't said yes yet. I wanted to apologize for reacting like that earlier. I'm sorry." she said, looking at him from the other side of the room.

Cassian nodded, licking his lower lip, "And I apologize for not telling you earlier what I'm about to tell you now."

Nesta hesitated, before sitting down and joining hands on the table. Cassian followed that movement and grimaced.

"I have no way around it, so I'll just say it." he murmured. Nesta waited. And waited.

She was about to tell him that she was imploding to know what was preventing them both from living the dream of a lifetime when he said it.

He said it, and Nesta choked a laugh, holding her hand over her mouth.

And she thought it was serious business. She stood up, wanting to punch him for that stupid joke, but Cassian looked at her seriously.

"What?" she whispered, falling back on the chair.

"I have decided to enlist."

"Are you serious?" she asked, opening her eyes wide and leaning forward, towards Cassian, looking for a clue, something, anything that would confirm that he wasn't serious, "Is this one of your stupid jokes?".

Cassian rubbed one hand on his face, leaning with the other against the back of a chair, "I would have done it under other circumstances, I would have wanted to soften the blow and not do it like this," he said, desperately moving one hand between the two of them.

Nesta clenched her fists, cutting her palms with her fingernails, "So now it's my fault because I decided to ask you to move in together?"

He looked at her severely, "I didn't say that and you know it."

They stared at each other for a few more seconds. Neither of them spoke a word.

"You're not fucking joking," whispered Nesta in dismay.

"No, Nesta, I'm not joking. I'm going to enlist in the army."

The school, his bar, the wedding they both knew was practically imminent. The now tangible future that Nesta had dreamed of every day since she first kissed him. Her work at Prythian Space Agency.

Everything was fading away before her eyes.

She let out a breathy laugh, her hands to her head, "And- when, when did you decide all this?" she exasperatedly asked, "When did we decide that this sudden urge to commit suicide was part of the plan?" she looked him in the eye, snapping to her feet.

Cassian started pacing back and forth, just like Feyre had done the night before, "I've been thinking about this for a few months now-"

"A FEW MONTHS?" cried Nesta in amazement.

"Yes, a few months." he replied, looking guilty at least.

"Jesus Cassian." she murmured, "And when on earth were you planning on telling me this, uh? When were they going to send me a letter from the front saying that my boyfriend is dead?" she shouted.

"I'm not going to die," he said harshly.

Nesta found herself laughing hysterically, "It seems to me that you want to enlist in the army, or did I misunderstand?"

"Enlisting in the army doesn't mea-"

"Joining the army, Cassian, means going to places where there is war. War." she repeated. "It means holding a weapon and being willing to kill for the love of god-"

There was so much confusion in her head that she couldn't make a complete sentence without losing the thread. She put her hands in her hair. Her breathing labored.

There were so many reasons why Cassian shouldn't have even thought about this job option in the first place.

They were fine. They both had prospects for the future.

"Nesta, you have to listen to me-" his voice filled with emotion.

"I don't need to do anything, Cassian." she said spelling out the words, without looking at him. She needed to be alone. She couldn't think straight. She couldn't rationalize with his figure so close. "I've already heard enough."

"No, you must..."

"Enough!" she shouted. "I can't- I cannot think. I gotta go." she whispered, so softly that Cassian had to ask her to repeat.

She grabbed her purse and before he could understand what was happening, Nesta was out of his apartment and in the street, flailing for a cab to stop. She heard him calling her as he hurried down the stairs to reach her.

Cassian had just arrived on the ground floor when she slammed the car door and gave her address, leaving the love of her life behind.

acotar tag list (if you wanna be added/removed dm me or send and ask)

@tottenhamboys20 @sjm-things @kris10maas @awesomelena555 @sannelovesreading @queenamydien29 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @messyhairday-me @ncssian @observationanxioustheorist @my-fan-side @booksstorm @maastrash @sayosdreams @thedarkdemigod @courtofjurdan @thewayshedreamed @ladywitchling @nahthanks

67 notes · View notes

managingmymuse · 3 years ago

Text

Plotting

for writer's month

day 24: fake dating

(original fiction | ???)

I read and reread the King's declarations more times than I could count. Soon the words grew blurred from my fingertips, and the paper threatened to peel apart at the folds. Still, I kept pulling it out, picking at it like one picks a scab.

I forced myself to wait a week before sending a reply. Before I made any answer to the message at all. I needed that time to compose myself, to ensure that I could write without a shaking hand or tears dripped onto the page. It was terribly rude, of course, but at the moment, I was quite over politeness. If Timothe had an issue with it, he could consult my father, seeing as everything I'd told Timothe so far had been ignored.

The betrayal hung on the back of my tongue like acid. It made me short with my mother when she came to discuss gowns, and shorter still with Marcel Imons who was still pestering Abigail Lyon. When he approached her near the lake by the girls' dormitory one afternoon, I dispensed with my usual diplomacy and used a burst of magic to fling him in it.

Abigail's roommates laughed themselves sick.

By the end of the week, I'd calmed down enough to write with a clear hand. My missive was short, and to the point.

What possessed you to do this without asking me?

The reply came quickly. Mail between Yarrow and Imena didn't often take long.

My dearest Desdemona,

I must beg your forgiveness. When I returned from Imena, I was in deep pain at the loss of your company. My suffering was so great that my magic diminished as well. When my father discovered this lack, he dispatched his orders immediately, and without consulting me.

I regret that I have not had the opportunity to ask you properly. I promise, upon my next visit, I will make it up to you in full.

Ever yours,

Timothe

I'd frowned at the letter. And then, in a fit of pique, I'd burned it, using my rage to fuel the flames.

It was only later that the mistrust began to settle over me. When we'd been together, Timothe had always seemed self-possessed. Confident. Unlikely to wallow in supposed heartbreak. And when we'd parted, he'd seemed resigned to our future relationship as companions, if not outright friends. But by the time he got to Yarrow, he was disturbed to the point of magic disruption? After a mere day's drive?

Something did not tally. Not at all.

Timothe's triumphant return, presumably with a real proposal and a ring, was scheduled for the next school break, only a week away. Many of our classmates were returning to Yarrow for the solstice, but I would stay here with my family. And Timothee, apparently, would be visiting us.

My mother went into a flurry of preparations. She just about cleaned out every larder in the county searching for chocolate jellies and lemon drops. The staff was given a verbal thrashing every time she saw a button loose or a shoe unpolished. Every room on the main floors was laden with pine boughs until the whole house smelled-- and looked-- like it would belonged in a forest.

While my mother obsessed, I made my own preparations. I borrowed a particular spell from Lady Rathburn's extensive library.

She grasped my arm when I turned to leave her. "Think very carefully before you use this," she said, grey eyes bright. "The truth is not always kind."

I knew that already. Perhaps better than I should. "Don't worry about me," I said. "I shall be the very soul of discretion."

And I was. Rather than send servants for my supplies, I shopped for them myself, trailing along Spill Street like a lady at leisure rather than on a mission. I purchased the ingredients I needed in three separate shops, mixed in with a dozen more items that I never intended to use. Anyone who recovered my shopping list wouldn't know what I was shopping for.

I brewed the potion and let it steep two nights beneath the moon's rays. When it was done, I had a thin vial of a brownish liquid that would make any man, woman, or child, spill their secrets they'd much rather take to the grave.

Arranging a meeting in private was a much more difficult task to manage. My mother wanted to lavish the precious prince with hospitality, and even my father thought it would be impolite not to greet him upon arrival in our city. In the end, I had to do my very best impression of a lovesick girl to get them to consent to allow me to have tea with him in private so that he might propose properly.

It worked, I'm ashamed to say. Very ashamed indeed.

Timothe's carriage rolled up one wintery morning. I watched from the window as he strode up the stairs of our home and knocked precisely once before our butler greeted him. I rang for tea while the butler helped Timothe off with his coat and gloves and settled myself in a rather demure position on the sofa a mere moment before the door swung open.

"His Highness Prince Timothe," the butler said.

I nodded and stood to offer a curtsy. Timothe strode into the room in grand spirits, crossing the distance between us in a matter of seconds. "Darling," he said. He seized both of my hands in his, bringing them up between us to press a kiss to each.

The back of my neck prickled with unease. "Pet names now?"

"You're unhappy with me," Timothe said. "I understand."

"Do you?" I glanced at the butler. "You may go."

With a swift nod, he withdrew.

A heavy silence fell about the room. Embers crackled and burned in the fireplace.

I motioned toward the high-backed chair in the center of the room and allowed Timothe to be seated before I resumed my own position. A knock sounded on the rear door to the room, and a maid entered, bearing the tea service I'd summoned just moments before.

"I've had tea prepared," I said, motioning the maid to set it on the table nearest us. "It's just the thing to warm you after such a cold journey."

"My dear, the only thing I need to warm me is your kind regard."

Ugh. I nodded to the maid, indicating that she could leave before reaching forward to pour the tea.

Timothe's gaze was a hot brand on my neck as I carefully added liquid to his cup and dropped in a single sugar cube. "You're angry with me."

"I'm furious," I said. I offered him the cup and saucer, and he took it. "We discussed this the last time you were here. I said I don't wish to marry."

"Yes, and I tried to respect your wishes," he said. "But once I got home, I realized how much I missed you. My magic suffered. I'm ashamed to say I moped."

"You might have written me before you told your father we were to be married."

"Would it have changed your position?" he asked. "Knowing of my heartbreak?"

My lips firmed into a thin line as I poured my own tea. "You ask too much."

"On the contrary. I think I ask just enough."

He took a cautious sip of his tea, and a bolt of triumph flared through me, lighting me from within.

"Think of how happy we'll be," he said. "How powerful. Between the two of us we'll have the political capital and brute strength to rule this bloody empire, my brothers be damned."

I just stared at him. I watched the color drain from his face. I watched dawning horror pull at his lips.

"Why-- why did I say that? Did I--" His gaze dropped to his tea, and his lip curled. "How did you get this recipe?"

"I am a witch," I said. "You seem to forget it."

"On the contrary. It's the only reason I'm interested in you at all."

I expected that, but it still stung. I took a delicate sip of my own tea before I set the cup down.

A range of emotions was flashing across Timothe's face. Rage and confusion and fear. "Sweetroot tea is illegal."

I lifted a shoulder. "Then have me arrested."

His lip curled. "You know I won't do that."

"Because you love me?"

He outright snarled. "You know I don't love you. Or you wouldn't have fed me this this brew."

That one didn't sting nearly as much. Not with the victory of tricking him dancing in my veins. "If you don't love me, why force me to marry you?"

"Why does anyone marry?" he said.

"That's not an answer."

I have to give him credit, he fought it. But the recipe I'd used for the Sweetroot potion had an extra kicker of joja berries mixed with acanthus oil. In precisely the right quantities, it was formulated to make the reluctant more forthcoming.

"You saved my life," he said. "I need you to do it again."

"Are you in some sort of danger?"

"My brothers. They're trying to kill me."

He stood up at that. His hands were curled into fists at his sides, and the cold shadow of fear passed over me.

"How-- that is, I-- how dare you," he said.

I affected nonchalance and drank some more tea. "If beating me into a pulp will make you feel better, then by all means, try it. But I warn you-- I fight back."

He snarled at me. Outright snarled. And for some reason, it filled me with more pleasure than I can even describe.

"Leave if you want," I said. "Storm down the streets in a rage if that would make you feel better. But I think it would be more productive if you would just tell me the truth."

"The truth." He sneered. "Why would I tell you anything?"

"You're trying to force me into a marriage with you," I said. "A marriage that I don't want or even particularly need."

"Honesty is not necessary for a marriage."

"It's a rather good start, though."

He scowled again. From the expressions on his face, I could tell he was fighting the sweetroot once again.

Finally, he dropped into his chair. His fingers clenched and unclenched on the air in front of him. "Fine. You want the truth? I'll give you the truth. My father has designated no heir. All three of us are eligible to assume his throne. My brothers have been trying to kill me for years. Last summer, one of them nearly succeeded."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"You're the one who saved me from his curse."

I sat back in my chair, startled. "That was only a falling branch."

"It was an ill luck spell," Timothe said. "I'm a magnet for danger. Literally wherever I go. I've been thrown from three horses, nearly run over by multiple carriages, and been injured by my sparring partner twice already."

I took a delicate sip of my tea. "I'm surprised you haven't been poisoned."

Timothe leaned forward, an odd glint in his eyes. "You have the distinction of being the first to attempt it, my love."

"Don't call me that."

"I don't see why I shouldn't."

"Because I'm not your love. I'm not your anything."

"But you will be."

The strength of that conviction, under the influence of sweetroot, was horrifying. Nevertheless, I forced myself to set my cup down gently on its saucer. "I'm not marrying you."

"Why?"

"Because I don't wish to marry," I said. "You in particular."

"Charming."

"I figured I might as well trade your honesty for some of my own."

I gave him a demure smile, and Timothe bared his teeth at me in a shark's grin.

"I don't need your agreement to force you into a marriage," he said. "I can have the papers filed with or without your consent."

"That's true enough," I said. "Heaven knows I can't stop you from filing paperwork with the courts."

"So you see that resisting this is idiotic."

"On the contrary," I said. "Resisting this is the only option I have left."

He stood up at at that, rolling his eyes. I half expected him to storm out, but instead he began to pace. He moved up and down the length of the room, cracking his knuckles as he muttered to himself.

I could see the wheels turning in his head. My calmness, such as it was, was getting to him. Good. It was bloody hard to hold onto my cool head.

It was time to push him over the edge. "What's to stop me from just letting you die?"

He turned to me. "What?"

"You heard me," I said. "If your plan is to have a bodyguard in the form of a wife-- well. An unwilling wife is irritating. An unwilling bodyguard is a legitimate problem."

"You would let me die?" he said. "Your own husband?"

I lifted a shoulder. "Quite a few women adore widowhood. It's not what I imagined for myself, naturally, but it's not the worst state one can find one's self in."

I thought he'd scowl at me. Rage and threaten, stomp and storm. But instead, a sort of calm passed over his face. He strode back to his chair, seating himself upright with the kind of courtly bearing that made me want to throw him across the room. "What do you want?"

"For you to leave me alone."

"That's not what I meant," he said. The glint was back in his eyes, and it sent a shiver rolling down my spine. "What do you want to act as my bodyguard?"

"You would hire me as a bodyguard?"

He laughed, and it sounded as if it rippled up from the core of his cold, dark heart. "I can't have a bodyguard. Not in truth. That would be a display of weakness."

"And moping and pretending to lose your magic isn't?"

"Sentimentality is not weakness," he said. "Was our country not founded by warrior-poets?"

"Our country was founded by pompous windbags."

"Those are my ancestors."

"They are, aren't they?"

Timothe's smile was broader this time. There was still an edge to it, but it seemed-- genuine?

"This is going to be fun," he said.

"It's going to be your death sentence."

"You asked me to hire you, which means that your services can be bought," he said. "How much?"

I scowled at him. "I don't need money."

"Everyone needs something."

I kept the scowl firmly in place. "There's nothing I need that would make marrying you worth it."

Timothe chuckled. The sound was deep and resonant, and it sent alarm bells pealing in my head. "Am I really so bad?" he asked.

"Not everything is about you."

He smiled at that before standing again. He paced to the window, looking down into the street. The snow-bright light from outside washed onto his face, making him look like a figure from one of my sister's fairytales.

Not a handsome prince, I thought darkly. Or, well, not just one, anyway.

"I'm willing to compromise," he said. "I'd like to maintain the fiction of an engagement between us for the time being. But in exchange for you ensuring that I don't die an untimely death, I'll break it off long before we ever near the altar."

"That's not much of a compromise," I said. "What's in it for me?"

"Is it not enough to assist your sovereign in his time of need?"

"You're not my sovereign," I said. "And at this rate, you'll never be."

"But you can change that," Timothe said. "Help me reach the throne, and I will grant you anything your heart desires. One royal favor. How about that, my sweet?"

A favor. With a favor from the king I-- well, I could do anything. Possibilities spun in my head. A school in the north. A girls school where they were allowed to study more than dance and flower arranging.

"Never call me that again," I said, "and you have yourself a deal."

He swung around then. The grin on his face was almost impish. "I knew I could get through to you."

"Don't look so happy," I said.

He practically bounced across the room. "Why wouldn't I look happy? I've just secured a wonderful new fiancee."

"Spare me."

Instead of returning to his chair, this time he settled himself on the sofa next to me. It was a flagrant breach of propriety, and I suspected that he did it just to make me uncomfortable.

My suspicions were concerned when he took my hand in his and slowly brought it to his lips. "Come now. When we're in public, you'll have to pretend to be madly in love with me. You might as well start now."

"If this is your attempt at charm, it's failing," I said. I extracted my hand and reached for the bell to summon the butler. "It's been enlightening as always, your majesty."

He only smiled. "It has, hasn't it? It really has."

***

@saltnpepapig You asked to be tagged if there was more. This got out of hand, so let me know if you changed your mind.

#writersmonth2021 #writersmonth #writing #my writing #fantasy #long post

2 notes · View notes

twixtandshout · 3 years ago

Text

Tagged by @pidgeonpostal! And not tagging anyone else because I have SOILED the original template (soiled it!!) in deference to my [brushes off skirt] mostly clean public-facing appearance.

...I’ve been making a lot of Spongebob memes lately for someone who has not seen Spongebob.

How many works do you have on AO3?

71!

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

...306,834. Jesus.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Uh. Many! I do a lot of one-offs (and/or start long things I never finish) in many different places. My top three fandoms by fics written are RWBY (29), Undertale (25), Gravity Falls/Transcendence AU (4).

Bet you can’t tell where my hyperfixations have fallen.

I’ve also got some Pokémon and Sonic the Hedgehog fics back on my ff.net account, or I think I still do, anyway, but let’s never go back there pls

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Sweeter Than Honey (Undertale): Taking a Completely unsurprising first place, with over 600 more kudos than the runner-up, the haphazard Underswap fic featuring a post-college self-insert I wrote just after high school! I shake my head some at how overblown and ridiculous the gap between this and all my other stuff is (c’mon, guys, I’ve written way better fics), but this is also the fic which prompted me (and at least one other person!) to start using they/them pronouns. I’ve gotten a lot of really sweet comments about how seen and appreciated it’s made people feel, so I can’t get down too far about it.

2. To Be A Hero (BNHA): I don’t count myself as part of the BNHA fandom, for a number of reasons, but for something that’s arguably the main motivation for the entire plot, Midoriya’s quirklessness is something I’ve never thought has been handled well. This fic marked the first time I (somewhat tentatively) claimed the disability label (thanks again to Sweeter Than for prompting that realization) to hold that lens over canon. It also really shot up my chart, dang! It’s the only thing here I’d consider “recent.”

3. Three-Sentence Shipping (Undertale): Self-explanatory.

4. Brothers Beyond Bonedaries (Undertale): Ah, the way-overcomplicated AU³ I got nowhere close to finishing. One of the things I really like about Undertale is the interface screw, how Toby Fox uses the medium of the video game to pull off crazy things and enhance his game, but most of the fic written for the fandom seems dedicated to explaining it away, grounding it, rather than taking it to the next step and messing with the medium of fanfiction when you keep the story going. I tried to do something cool like that here, playing with questions like narrator and authorship and breaking the fourth wall, even taking the “final boss” fight to a “totally separate” fic reached through the first by link – but, well, then I never finished it, which probably didn’t make anything less confusing for the poor folks who missed the intent.

5. Spirit and Such (Gravity Falls: Transcendence AU): A whole fic written to line out a particular image I had, which, naturally, never made it to the page. I consider it a bit of a cautionary tale for myself when it comes to writing (near-)original content; there’s a lot I look back on and cringe. I still love the characters, though – well, the important ones – and I think just stepping away from the tried-and-true Mizar formula nets it a star sticker here.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

>w>; I try, but a lot of the time I just don’t have anything to say? Like, oh, you liked it? Neat. There’s not much to respond to in comments like that, and then I’m weighing falling down on an ~obligation~ to respond to every message in my inbox vs annoying people with copy-paste fluff responses all down the page. Plus I know I make more of an effort to comment on things that didn’t get the attention I feel they deserve, so if I’m driving up my own comment count with nonsense, am I preventing myself from being in a position to receive more comments later? And then if I do comment, am I being too effusive or running people’s ears off explaining things they don’t actually need to know? Sometimes people just want to express interest or admiration and don’t necessarily want a whole peek and guided tour behind the curtain.

Can you tell I have anxiety? x3;

Anyway, I do respond when I can. And I keep most of the comments I’ve gotten to go back and reread.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hm, hmm. Lots of stuff in the TQ Nonsense series would probably qualify! I’m thinking of Unfixable, Wolfsong, and Ethanol. And there’s Bursting Through A Blood-Red Sky (I Can Live, I Can Breathe), of course, but that was always intended to have a fix-it epilogue. It’s just that I wrote it in a couple of hours day-of, stared at it, and decided I didn’t wanna just then. But now that’s As Long As You’re Still Burning Bright (I’m Still Awake), and that’s probably the best romance I’ve written, so that one worked out.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Now and then! When the urge strikes. Uhhh, I’ve got a series of Doctor Who x Undertale crossovers I actually made a whole dang verse for that never made it to print. Get a couple great comments on that every few months or so. I think the World Trigger x Undertale crossover is probably weirder, though, by virtue of WT being a very small fandom. My enthusiasm kinda sputtered out on that one.

Mostly I just daydream crossovers with whatever happens to catch my eye at any given moment. I have a lot!!!! Though odds are out on whether I manage to remember any of them once the initial thought’s passed, lol.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Gotten a couple eyebrow-raising comments, but I think mostly I’m just too small a writer to draw that kind of attention.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t? think so? Think my tastes are a little niche for most people to bother ^^;

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had someone apologize once for any language mistakes in their comment cause they had to run it through a translator! That’s not what you asked (the answer is no), but it’s very flattering to think that someone liked my fic enough to read and comment despite the language barrier.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! :D @pidgeonpostal was gracious enough to agree to co-write Five Nights at Denny’s with me off an idea about shoes. This has fulfilled a long-held dream of mine (collabing with someone, not the shoes) and also introduced me to some lovely people.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Who has time for just one? ;3c Honestly, I care more about the characters and how the relationship – any relationship – between them changes them than I do about ~A Ship~ as a solid, bounded noun-object. I’ve got characters I like more and less and feelings about who does and doesn’t have chemistry in which directions with whom, but finding anything that agrees with those preferences is hard, harder when you take alloromanticism into account. I’ll play in any sandbox with cool toys, especially if other folks have already built sick sandcastles there.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

[kicks every single unfinished fic further under the bed] What nooo no WIPs here, everything on my account is either finished or does not exist

I’ve got a couple extra chapters of Sweeter Than floating around unposted, but 1. that fic’s a mess 2. high school Twixt and post-college Twixt are different people and trying to contort myself into three other me-shapes just cause people Like this fic is not something I’m super interested in 3. it’s headed for an emotional dip and I’d rather leave it where it is than post two chapters, stall out again, and leave folks with a bad end.

As for other fics... it’s looking more and more likely that v7 of my Yellow Brick Road AU will never actually make it out. >w>; I’ve got some really great ideas, but not enough to make me feel like I know what I’m doing, and that’s a big roadblock. Plus trying to engage with RT’s Atlas-Mantle worldbuilding in any serious capacity is... a headache. I can’t recommend the Happy Huntress Cinematic Universe enough, but it leaves some pretty big shoes to follow! And I’ve got small feet. <w<;

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue’s fun, probably as an extension of characterization. I love tearing into what makes people tick, especially against the backdrop of their environment, the story they’re in, and the people they’re up against. Voice is a double-edged sword; I’ve been told my writing is really recognizable and individual, but on the other hand, I’ve been growing frustrated with with the limits of my narrative ability. There’s a strong rhythm I keep when I write (you might notice it here, even) but that leaves me feeling predictable and stale. I’m not sure I’m great at setting as a matter of course, but I’m pretty good at describing setpieces where the need comes up; that comes from my background in poetry, as does the fun I have with sublimating and abstracting complex imagery. And I think I bring some needed nuance to the universal. For good or ill, I don’t do what “everyone else” is doing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Well, writing, for one thing. If I don’t know how something’s going to go and don’t have the urge to write it, it isn’t getting done, which means there’s a billion things that will never see the page and a few hundred more that are never getting finished. I lose momentum easily and have a hard time getting started, and I put way too much standing on finding a foothold with other people; as critical as I am of my work, I have high expectations for the stuff that passes muster, and it never seems to measure up. I’m also really uncreative. Yeah, I can mix up elements and extrapolate events, but coming up with things wholesale is really hard, which is why I avoid it wherever possible and steal/reskin stuff from other places instead.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Something along the lines of “Hoo boy, I am Not qualified for this but hopefully it’s decent anyway.” Maria’s Spanish lines haven’t been a big deal – I’ve used it sparingly and, as a Latin language, it should be easy for English-speaking audiences to pick up on the gist – but I’ve had a harder time with Tai’s Chinese, both because I have Even Less background there and because it is, of course, an entirely different language system. If I write it out in English or Romanized italics, am I colonizing it or changing the meaning? If I write it out in the presumed-original characters (presumed because it’s Google Translate and who knows if I’m even barking in the right forest), am I confusing or alienating my presumed-majority-English-speaking audience? Where should I put the translations? Should I put the translations? And for Frisk’s sign language, thinking back, are the brackets I used instead of quotes alienating/infantilizing? I like that different characters give the text between a different feel, but I’m not an ASL speaker – and I’m pretty sure the word is “speaker,” which would only reinforce that that demographic would rather I didn’t do that. It’s important for all these characters, I think, that they use non-English language where it makes sense; it’s part of who they are. But as a white monolingual English-speaker, I don’t think I can really weigh in.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Thaaaat’d be Pokémon, followed closely with Sonic the Hedgehog. Whether those fics are still on my ff.net account or not (pretty sure I’ve purged them, but you never know) I’ve still got a couple saved to a folder on my current laptop, ostensibly so I can look back and see how far I’ve come and more practically to allow for the possibility of furthering group cohesion through public shaming.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I still like the idea behind The Man Who Is Atlas, and Burning Bright (Still Awake) gets props for being my current fic, though it’s currently in that spot where I’m excited to get new chapters posted but also quietly marking everything up in red pen. I think Harbinger gets the crown here, at least for now.

#answerin' stuff

3 notes · View notes