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manicmanuscription · 2 days ago

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Unapologetically Selfish

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Illusions to smut, fluff, gaslighting(?) not proofread bc author is lazy

Word Count: 10599

Summary: When both of your jobs have your time with each other limited, Azriel makes the decision to keep you all to himself. Content to let his family think he'd finally lost his mind but an accidental meeting has the IC realizing Azriel truly does have a secret mate.

─── ♡ ───

Cassian was…concerned, to say the least.

He fully believed Azriel was loosing his god damned mind and with each passing day this assumption only worsened.

It all started three years ago, Azriel becoming almost scarce from time to time. With no explanation other than vague answers. It didn’t happen a lot and Cassian respected his brother needed his space some time, it wasn’t unusual for the Spymaster to slink off in the shadows. But then after a year his disappearance’s become nearly constant.

Cassian and Rhysand finally cornered their brother after they demanded he show up for a monthly family dinner, the whole inner circle was getting concerned and decided that the two Illyrians were the best equipped to deal with this.

Azriel had blankly looked at his brothers a small furrow in his brow as he sat through their interrogation. He hadn’t even realized he had been gone that much to be frank. Just… after meeting you? He wanted to spend every second of the day by your side, the mating bond simply not enough for how deeply he felt for you.

After realizing the worry he was causing his family he pursed his lips and quite reluctantly told his brothers that he had found his mate.

The look on the High Lord and General of the Night Court was absolutely priceless, their mouths hanging open as a stunned expression took over their usually stoic faces.

Not even five minutes later the whole family knew, everyone pestering him for information like when they would get to meet you, what your name was, what did you do, how did you meet, where have you been this entire time.

“Wait!” Feyre said as Mor had opened another bottle of wine and started excitedly pouring everyone a glass. “Is that why you asked Rhysand for a few months off?”

The whole Inner Circle froze at Azriel’s simple nod. They all knew the implications of what that meant and Cassian was the first to speak. “You had a mating ceremony and none of us knew?” His voice thick with emotion.

Azriel struggled with his next words. His heart a lump in his throat. He was never a talkative male, especially not about his feelings.

“I-“

The truth was he was an incredibly selfish bastard. Of course he wanted his family to meet you, you were the most radiant person he ever had the pleasure of breathing next to and that was precisely the problem. He wanted you all to himself.

“I’m sorry.” He said clearing his throat. “Would you like to meet her?” The house erupted with enthusiastic yes’s as his words seemed to smooth over the transgression.

Eight months after that conversation, and after 6 canceled dinners 2 rescheduled lunches and just a straight up no show for drinks, The Night Court decided Azriel was…delusional.

Of course they came to this conclusion delicately and most definitely amongst themselves after long and heated conversations.

Once again Rhysand and Cassian were sent to talk with the elusive spymaster and why he would make up such a lie.

Azriel just refused their nonsense once again. He had told them the truth and it was their fault they didn’t believe it. He had barely seen you these last couple months as you had been working on the Continent and he had other tasks assigned to him. He told his brothers this and they just gave each other a look, one he simply ignored.

Soon…the teasing started. Once the Inner Circle realized Azriel was doubling down on his ‘delusions’ Cassian promptly started joking about the fake wife and mate Azriel had. A few offhand comments here and there that become more and more frequent, of course Nesta and the rest of their family told him to shut up, but for Cassian it came from a place of love.

He had tried talking to his brother, tried helping him through this. Cassian’s mind spinning, he truly thought Azriel had finally cracked, that his dearest brother was so alone he had made up an imaginary mate just to prove something.

So his teasing was his last ditch effort, the final playing card to hopefully get Azriel to just admit he lied, than Cassian would take him out for drinks and be his shoulder to cry on for whatever issue that was obviously going on.

Except it didn’t work. Azriel just grew more and more distant, if he wasn’t working he was simply…elsewhere. The last time Azriel ever made an effort to be around his family was when he suddenly up and decided to move out of the House of Wind, throwing a small house party for a beautiful cottage he purchased along the coast.

Rhysand had to force Azriel to come to family dinners, in which sometimes the Spymaster simply never showed up and when he did his mind seemed distant and detached.

Everyone was getting increasingly worried, especially Cassian. Azriel was incredibly important to him and although Cassian would never admit this, he felt responsible for him. Sometimes his brother didn’t know how to take care of himself, especially emotionally and whenever that happened The General had always been there, happily helping him whenever he could, making sure his heart and mind were protected, fighting off Azriel’s demons when he couldn’t do it himself.

And he had never seen his brother so…aloof, distant and he had never thought his mental health would have gotten so bad he had made up a mate. So finally, Cassian and Rhys decided it was time for an intervention.

———

Azriel.. for the life of him could not wait for his brothers to get out of his house.

He loved them dearly and he knew he had been acting stranger and stranger these last few years, he knew his family thought he was certifiably insane and that great Shadowsinger of the fearsome Night Court had finally snapped and of course he cared, he knew that his actions had his brothers spinning and Nesta’s newly revealed pregnancy didn’t help Cassian’s grey hairs, and he had tried countless times to explain to them that he wasn’t insane, that you were real and beautiful and had utterly and completely captured his heart.

But without the proof, his brothers simply didn’t believe him. Azriel wanted you to meet his family, gods did he want you too. But his time with you was becoming more and more rare.

If you weren’t on the Continent you were with Thesan and if you weren’t with Thesan you were with Helion, leading all sorts of medical discoveries he simply could not comprehend no matter how hard he tried, this new medical project you were taking on meant that he hadn’t seen you in months, his body and heart ached for you and he truly had never felt such longing in his life. His brother’s insisting that he was insane certainly wasn’t helping his heartache.

“I…” Cassian swallowed. “I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore Az.” He whispered finally and Azriel truly felt the guilt he had been burying down hit him as if he had been struck at the look on his brother’s face.

He opened his mouth to say something but ultimately couldn’t find the words as Cassian left his home office, his footsteps echoing the utter doom and gloom he felt not only at your disappearance but at the raging guilt he felt for putting everyone in this situation in the first place.

“Please…Just talk to us Az-“ Rhys started but he put his hand up. “Just, Go..please, we can talk about this later.” Azriel pleaded and Rhysand must’ve seen the look on his face so he pursed his lips and followed the General out of his brother’s home.

———

You couldn’t wait to get home not only to the house you’d built together but to your mate. Every fiber of your being ached for him, and it physically hurt to be away from him for so long.

So finally you had announced to your team and your dearest friend Thesan you were taking a well deserved break and decided to surprise your mate.

You desperately needed to see him, hold him, breathe him in. Your soul was raging for the distance to finally be closed and so you planned a surprise trip, so you shut off the bond to him, which had sent him into a wild panic but you soothed it temporarily saying you were busy and needed to focus. But really you knew you couldn’t hide the excitement at finally arriving home, your chest was alight with nerves as you opened the door to your house, your fingers nervously playing with your hair as you couldn’t stop the giddy smile from erupting across your face.

This was space was yours. For the first time you had not just a house but a home, and a lot of your tension eased at finally stepping into the carefully curated space you and Azriel had created. You could smell him everywhere, and it insantly made your frayed nerves ease, your body already relazing at just finally being home.

It had been six long months without touching him, seeing him, with only fleeting reassurance and love sent down the bond and you needed him. Now.

You were so excited you didn’t see the tall and bulky Illyrian warrior standing in your hallway staring at you as if he had seen a ghost. You crashed into a hard wall of muscle in your haste to get to your mate and immediately pulled back.

“Your…not Azriel.” You stated, looking him up and down with a small frown etched on your face, something primal recoiling at the thought of another male in your house.

“Neither are you?” The male stated his voice with a slight edge, eyes wary as he looked you up and down, as if you were a threat. His fingers twitching and you immediately pulled away from him noticing his dangerous expression. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here? I think the question is what the hell are you doing in my house.” You asked stepping another few paces away from him but still crossing your arms over your chest as you looked him up and down. He wore red siphons on his hands and his long brown hair had a few greys all tied together in a low bun. Cassian, then you assumed.

“Wait..I’m sorry what?” The male sputtered, his vicious stance immediately softening into one of shock. You didn’t notice the High Lord standing behind him with an equal look of surprise as their brains finally processed the information. Their brother hadn’t cracked, he had been telling the truth about all of it. The traveling, the courtship, that he was in fact married and mated.

Shadows twisted in the corner before scurrying off down the hall and in just a few seconds you were being tugged into a warm chest and spun around as scarred hands possessively held your waist. You giggled at the touch, the bond in your chest thrummed with light as peace finally settled in your bones. Home you were finally home. He set you down and you leaned up pulling his faist close to yours as you peppered him with kisses. Gods you had missed him so much. He smiled softly at your touch shadows almost completely engulfing you as they too missed you.

“Hey, Hello? We’re still here.” Cassian snapped his fingers to get your attention and Azriel growled darkly at the intrusion. You had been gone for six months you were his not his family’s. It wasn’t just a want that made him grip you even tighter at the thought of his family taking away your time with their endless interrogation no, no it was a need that thrummed throughout the fiber of his being. He needed to mark you up and hold you close and worship every single inch of skin on your body. He needed to completely immerse himself into you.

Rhysand must have seen the look on his face or heard something in his mind because he gently gripped Cassian’s shoulders. “If you neither of you show up to breakfast tomorrow we will hunt you down or simply show up here.” It was said in a playful tone but Azriel understood the threat behind it, he was going to have to finally introduce you whether he liked it or not and with a simple wave of agreement from Azriel the two males winnowed away and he pressed himself further against you. Breathing in your scent all his stress and worry melting away as he did. The bond had been pulled so taut with the distance it had ached with the worst pain possible.

“I missed you.” You breathed out softly, he grunted in agreement. “Let me take you far away from here and show you how much I missed you.” He whispered as he pressed soft kisses down the side of your neck, you giggled and his heart beat faster at the noise. “You are not getting of that easy again Spymaster.” You spoke with another laugh. His hands tightened even further on your hips with frustration, one of them sliding up to tangle in your hair as he kissed you, his tongue sliding in your lips claiming your’s with a deep desire that settled in his bones. You’d leave again soon and now he’d have to share your limited time with someone else. He tugged at your bottom lip possessively at the thought and lifted you in his arms your legs straddling as his waist as he walked you to your bedroom to show you exactly how much you were his.

—————

The Inner Circle anxiously awaited The General and High Lord’s arrival, waiting on any news of Azriel’s mental health when they finally winnowed in. Shocked grins overtaking their expressions. There was a beat of silence before Cassian spoke up. “You’ll never guess what the actual fuck just happened.”

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel x oc #azriel fluff #azriel angst #azriel x you #angst #fluff #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction

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elliee3e · 24 hours ago

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‘pretty when you cry’

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‘old’ logan howlett x crybaby f! reader

‘don’t say you need me if, you live last, you're leaving —

i can't do it, but you do it best

‘cause i’m pretty when i cry’ — pretty when you cry - lana del rey

summary ;

basically just old man logan & his lil crybaby girl<3

content warnings ;

light ddlg if you squint, piv, size difference, age play/younger & smaller reader implied, corruption kink, oral sex (f receiving), slight overstimulation

old man logan, who both loves and hates having his sweet girl crumble in his arms.

by now, he feels like the only thing he’s good for is ruining. killing. tainting. that’s what he did with you, tainted your damn innocence. and now he hates how big he is compared to you, hates how he always feels like he has to hold back in fear of hurting you, hates how he tries to be gentle with you because you always end up crying in his arms no matter what.

he could be between your spread thighs, scruff brushing against your inner thighs as his tongue works against your heated core, sucking onto your clit whilst you completely crumble — thighs squeezing and trembling around his head, sniffles, whimpers and broken moans leaving your parted lips, tears starting to drip down your cheeks as you pant, the sight making logan pull away as he looks up at you from his glasses, that by now had slipped to the bridge of his nose that you always so badly wanted to kiss.

“baby, baby— hey, look at me darlin’..” he would croon, your sweet taste still clinging onto his tongue as he shifted up to grab your face, watching your pretty glazed eyes full of tears for him: looking up at him. “l-lo..” you would sniffle, voice no more than a broken whimper and it tugged at his heart.

“did i do something wrong? was it too much?” his gruff voice, laced with worry — asked. and god, yes, it was too much: but in the best way possible. you just didn’t know how to explain that you couldn’t help the tears that would take over you when something felt too good.

“n-nothing wrong, lo— just.. just a lot..” you would huff, stomach fluttering as logan would sigh at your words: bringing up a rough thumb to swipe your salty tears away: the other gently tugging your panties back up. “damn it, darlin’. givin’ me a damn heart attack everytime you sob like that, makes me feel like i hurt ya.”

“c’mon. let’s just lay together for a while. probably be better for ya, sweet thing.”

old man logan, who, after a while, would begin to understand that his girl just couldn’t help her pretty tears and sobs. it was a part of her that only he got to see after all, and that’s what made it special.

he began to love having that power over you. loved having the ability to be fucking into you, pretty legs wrapped around his hips perfectly, nails scratching along his shoulders and back where you could reach, your desperate moans mingled with choked sobs ricocheting off the apartment walls — your nails leaving cat like scratches that started to heal in a short while as they weren’t deep wounds — but they still made him groan. one of his hands, the one not on your waist to keep a steady grip on you, moving up to grab your small wrist to stop you; his hand wrapping around it no problem. “easy, baby. i’m tryna be gentle here, but you’re really pushin’ it.” he would grunt, bringing your wrist down up next to your head, easily using that for leverage to keep on his slow and deep pace into you.

“gosh, darlin’, don’t go cryin’ for me right now..” he would groan, watching as you sobbed even more, trying to slow his pace more than it already was to scoop you up into his arms, keeping your smaller body cradled in them as he soothed your sobs with gentle ‘shh’s’ — hips still fucking into yours at a steady pace, just enough to have you trembling under him and for your cries to choke up in your throat with pretty moans, a familiar heat starting to build up in your lower tummy as it made your walls flutter around his thick cock. “uh— mmph, gonna.. gonna cum, lo—“ you would whimper, small hands squirming under his bigger ones, his grip only getting tighter on your soft wrists.

“that right? my baby’s gonna cum for me? gonna cum all over my cock like the sweet girl she is?” logan would grunt, using the best of his force to fuck into you just enough to find your little gummy spot, the one that sent shivers through your small body and made you let out a sob that broke off into a moan as you felt your orgasm quickly take over — hips trembling under his, sweet pussy squeezing around his cock as much as it could as your juices leaked onto him.

“fuck, doll.” he would huff, glancing down and pulling out just enough to see your pretty pussy — flushed and dripping for him, your sniffled cries filling the room once more as you tried to recover.

“gonna be a good girl and finish me off now too?”

#logan howlett x you #logan howlett #hugh jackman #logan howlett x reader #old man logan

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eliza-and-her-monsters · 2 days ago

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the tortured poets department

a story told in multiple parts

vi x reader

Info Post

Moodboards

Contains: college au, dark/light academia, writer reader, singer reader, neurodivergent/autistic reader (i’m autistic so i’m writing from my own experiences), sporty vi, hockey player vi, big sister caitlyn, best friend ellie williams, roommate ellie williams, will contain other familiar characters you know and love as well as some potential ocs. no use of y/n, reader does have a name because it’s just easier for me to write that way 🖤 ALSO- Jayce is aged down because I want him to be 😌

WC: 4.5k

TW: talk of severe mental illness and brief mention of psychiatric facilities

A/N: chapter one is officially live! if you’re just stumbling across this and haven’t checked the main info post yet please do for more info! hope you enjoy! 🖤

part I

you’re on your own, kid

Whenever most people got acceptance letters to Oxford they were ecstatic, elated, overjoyed. Somehow whenever I got mine all I felt was a sense that I had failed. It was a juxtaposition of course, it was always expected from my family that I attend the same university they had and every other generation before them had. So in a way I had done the opposite, just maybe not in the right order, and a hefty amount of rejection letters in my midst. Including the one currently being held in my shaky hand right now.

Ms. Kiramman,

Thank you for submitting your manuscript to our publication house. Unfortunately right now we are unable to offer you an opportunity for further publication.

“Please, they wouldn’t know good literature if it hit them in the face.” Caitlyn scoffed from her spot next to me as the student shuttle jostled us in our row of seats.

“Is every other publication house that denied me unable to recognize good literature as well?” I whispered from where my cheek stayed pressed to her shoulder.

I know what a lot of you were probably thinking at first glance, but Caitlyn was a good big sister. She was harsh, severely left brained, exactly everything our parents wanted in a child, and quite possibly the polar opposite of me. But in all honesty she was my best friend. My biggest supporter whenever my parents weren’t. It was her who had harassed all of those literary agents to even get me the chance to submit my works to publication houses in the first place because I was too scared to do it. And it was I who failed every single time.

“Yeah actually, they are. Honestly Mills, there’s so much trash in modern day poetry right now you might be better off.” She sighed, reaching a hand over to click my phone off slowly as the shuttle rumbled to a stop. “This is you!” She tried to plaster on a fake cheery voice with a pat on my back as if to get me to finally lift my head where my cheek was already an irritated red for being hid in her sweater.

“I still don’t get why you couldn’t just let Ellie and I take the extra room in that big student house you just moved into.” I huffed, lifting a hand to readjust my glasses before rising up to my feet and reaching for one of the suitcases carelessly tossed on one of the adjacent rows of seats.

“Because lovey, you need to make some of your own friends. This is uni, Millie, we’re both in completely different colleges and I just- I don’t want you to get too lonely.” She frowned, glancing back at me as she rolled the other suitcase behind her. “You guys don’t wanna room with a bunch of upperclassmen anyways.”

“I do have my own friends, I have Ellie.”

“As much as she is a great roommate, friends besides Ellie, it’s good to have more than just two whole people on campus to talk to.” Caitlyn pressed on just before striding towards the entrance, leaving me feeling like I needed to speed walk just to keep up given the fact she was nearly a foot taller as well.

The student apartments were definitely nicer than the usual underclassman dorms. In all honesty I really should’ve been grateful, it was just another luxury of being a Kiramman. Whenever your parents paid for half of the buildings on campus you usually got better accommodations. Not that either of them originally liked the idea of me even rooming with Ellie. A loudmouthed foreign exchange student from America I met during another one of those incredibly expensive wellness retreats my parents sent me on to see if they could find a ‘cure’ for what was actually just a heavy amount of autism and severe ADHD.

The only person who really seemed to understand that there wasn’t one and it was just simply who I was was Caitlyn. To a degree as much as she could at least. Sometimes though I could tell she forgot.

“I think Ellie said she beat us a while ago.” She chimed in as we approached the door decorated with a slightly chipped gold number.

“She got here early because of hockey stuff.” I answered, already bouncing on the balls of my feet to see how she had managed to make the flat into a sea of chaos already. She wasn’t exactly the cleanest person, luckily her energy seemed to mesh with mine easily enough though.

“Oh! You never mentioned she made the hockey team! I know a few girls on the team you could probably talk to.” She shot a hopeful smile back at me before lifting a fist to knock on the door.

It swung open before she could even make a second tap to reveal a frazzled looking Ellie haphazardly clutching a hockey stick. “Thank God you’re here! I was trying to practice my swing and- fuck, we are so not getting that deposit back, Millie.”

“Oh dear god.” Caitlyn cursed, already wincing in dread before stepping through the door into the messy flat. “I’m sure our dad can- do something. What did you manage to break and why on earth did you decide practicing your swing indoors was a good idea?”

“For your information I didn’t break anything! There’s just a- tiny dent in the wall.”

I hummed a bit to myself as I stepped over the plethora of unpacked bags currently covering the floor. “It’s definitely more than tiny.” I chimed in as I poked at the noticeable dent in the drywall.

Caitlyn released a long and heavy breath and shook her head, as if to try and keep herself from making her own dent in the wall. “It’s totally fine. I’ll just- say that it was there whenever you guys moved in!” She shrugged with another anxious clear of her throat as she pulled my luggage in behind her. “Which room is free, Els?”

“Oh, I gave her the room in the front. I know she likes it dark and the lighting in there sucks.” Ellie answered as she shuffled off behind us. “There is one window in there that can get pretty killer in the mornings.”

I tensed a bit at the sight of the double window facing towards the bed. Yet another one of the aggravating little quirks that came with my neurodivergency, light sensitivity. As far as I could remember I always preferred the darkest of places. And now Caitlyn was cursing again, rushing towards me to take my hands into her own as if I was already on the verge of panic.

“It’s okay- I can get you a pair of a blackout curtains asap and you know how dreary it is in Oxford anyways-“

“Caity- it’s fine. I’m not going to have a meltdown over a window.” I interrupted her ramble with a shake of my head. Sometimes I felt like she still thought I was that same teenage girl that didn’t have a handle on her emotions. Not that I was far from it exactly. Now I was just an almost 20 year old girl who had a slight hold on her emotions. That’s what the writing was for.

Her eyes still held the same amount of concern though, getting that same little crinkle in between her brows as she nodded. “Okay, I’m still getting you blackout curtains though.”

“They’ll definitely be appreciated.” I said with a forced tiny smile.

“Well, I really wish I could stay and help you unpack but I have a meeting with the Brooks Society and everything but… I really do hope I’ll see you both tonight at the pub for fresher’s week?” She grinned hopefully once more as she squeezed the life out of my hands.

“Oh, I-I don’t know. We’ve barely settled in and-”

“I’m down.” Ellie chimed in from behind me as she trotted back into the door frame. “I’m gonna be relishing in the fact I finally don’t need a fake.”

“Ellie…” I groaned as I shot her a glare over my shoulder.

“What? Mills, it’s the first day of fresher’s week, we might as well be committing a crime by not going out tonight!” She exclaimed with a dramatic throw of her hands in the air.

“It’s true, and as much as I would love to keep you away from my degenerate friends, well, it might be good for you.” Caitlyn agreed with another casual shrug.

“You’re not gonna give me a choice, are you?” I questioned causing her to shoot a knowing look towards Ellie over my shoulder.

“Probably not.” She answered before stealing a look down at the expensive watch wrapped around her wrist. “Well, I’ve gotta go but… you’ll text me if you need anything, right? I don’t want you to feel like you can’t because of what I said earlier because you always can I just-“

“Caity- it’s fine. I’m fine, I promise. I- I’ll see you tonight.” I stammered in hesitation, and I’d definitely be hearing about it later. But luckily right now she seemed willing to just let things go.

“Okay, good… great. Now- get in here, pipsqueak!” She exclaimed, the familiar nickname she had been calling me since she hit her growth spurt and I yet to do so making me roll my eyes as she pulled me into a tight hug. One of those sisterly hugs I always clung onto a bit longer. Ever since I was younger no place had felt safer than Caitlyn. And in so many ways sometimes I looked at her as being more than a mom than our actual mom. I knew I needed to find other safe places though. “I love you, you know that right? I promise. This is going to be a good thing.”

“I love you too, Caity.” I sighed softly as I felt her lips press to the top of my head before the two of us pulled away.

“Els, take care of my baby sister or else I’ll have your head on a stick? Got it?”

“Crystal?” Ellie finally spoke up again with wide eyes as her hand made the ‘okay’ symbol.

“Good.” Caitlyn spoke before trotting back off towards the front door, “I’ll see you both tonight and send you the details.” And with a charming smile she was headed out.

Ellie instantly let out a shiver the moment the door closed. “Has anyone ever told you that your sister’s scary as fuck?”

“Many times.” I answered simply just in time to see Ellie’s face fall ever so slightly.

“So, I’m guessing it was a no from the latest publication house?”

“How could you guess?” I frowned as I slumped against the wall like I was going to resign myself to the floor.

“You had that aire of discouraged defeatism whenever you walked in.” She explained as she sidled up to me. “Cheer up, Mills, modern poetry is so cringeworthy nowadays you might be better off going for songwriting anyways.” She added as she gently rubbed at my clothed arms.

“If I can’t even get a publication house to take me seriously then what makes you think I can actually get a songwriting deal?” I spoke as I finally pushed myself off of the wall.

“One of the most popular songs out right now literally has the lyrics, ‘that’s that me, espresso’ in it.” She rolled her eyes a bit to herself as she finally knelt down to grab the bags she had still yet to unpack.

“No Sabrina Carpenter slander in this apartment, Williams. You know I’m an OG. And I can relate to desperation.” I frowned in embarrassment as I crossed my arms across my chest.

“Yeah yeah yeah, come and help me unpack, will you? Maybe we can find you something to wear tonight.”

“What’s wrong with what I have on?” I exclaimed almost in mild offense as I gestured towards the outfit that definitely had been hastily picked out. But it wasn’t like it wasn’t cute- ish at least.

“Nothing, but care bear sweaters and leggings seems more like a comfy day outfit than a ‘going out to the pub’ outfit.”

“I thought it was going to be a comfy day until you completely blew my cover!”

“Sorry babe, but I agree with your scary as fuck sister on this one. You need to get out more. Experience the pleasures of fresher’s week and you can take that in any way you want!” She shot a wink over her shoulder as she made her way down the skinny hallway to kick open her own door where a brutal floor to ceiling window already angrily cast its light on the room causing me to flinch.

“We could always pretend to be girlfriends again if you want people to leave you alone in a, you know, romantic way.” Ellie added as she rushed across the room to pull the curtains shut and pat the empty space on her bed. Probably the only time it’d actually be made all semester.

“Nah, if we do that too many times people will know we’re lying so best not to even start.” I answered as I took a seat on the side of her bed.

“Well if that’s the case, how does this shirt look with… this flannel? What do you think? Chick magnet?” She grinned before whipping out a red and black checkered flannel from the mostly empty closet and pulling it on over the basic black band tee she already wore with a flourish.

“Maybe if they’re emo?” I said with a little shrug as I scanned the band logo on her t-shirt causing her to groan in defeat.

“Still… somehow… always chronically bitchless.” She voiced before plopping down on the squeaky university issued beds. Though we were at least lucky enough to have double beds, it definitely wouldn’t leave anything to the imagination if either of us decided to do any nsfw activities in them. Somehow I didn’t feel like we’d have that problem though.

“Shush, you’re not chronically bitchless. You have me!” I teased as I gave her shoulder a playful shove where she dramatically flopped onto her back.

“So bitchless then?” She reiterated with a lifted brow as she glanced over at me.

“At least you’ve actually managed to kiss a girl once or twice.” I scowled as I inched over onto my side. Already catching myself pulling closer towards her.

“Just so we’re clear, I did offer.”

“Yeah, only to get your first kiss out of the way.” I scoffed, though I curled up to her either way. Closing my eyes as I placed my head on her chest I hadn’t realized how tired I had felt in the past 24 hours. They had been rough, a sea of anxiety and those exact meltdowns that Caitlyn was afraid of me having and her not being there to talk me down from.

“And? The offer never stopped standing.” She spoke just before I could feel her arms wrapping around me.

“Good to know, Els, I’ll let you know if I ever need to get a pity kiss from my best friend.”

“Oh shut up, it’s not a pity kiss. It’s me doing you a solid.” She remarked, as she nudged my foot with her leg. “You manage to get any sleep last night?” She wondered just before letting her hands trace soothing circles on my back. I only shook my head as I felt the sting behind my eyes before I could even take any steps to stop it. The way you felt whenever you were already on the verge all day and someone finally asks if you’re okay. Curling my fingers into her flannel the annoying tears already soaked into the fabric of her shirt. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

A shake of my head only followed, I didn’t know how to put anything into words really. How to explain to people that just wouldn’t understand no matter how much they meant well and wanted to. How was someone even supposed to explain the fact that you were one of the most celebrated families of the most prestigious university in England yet somehow you still felt like the only person who didn’t belong here sat on top of a mountain of rejection letters? Perhaps you could rather easily. But to actually say the words ‘I’m pretty sure I only got in because I’m a Kiramman’ were a whole different story. It’s why I took all those years off in the first place. I wanted to delay the inevitable of my dad paying off the admissions directors again while staring at me with the level of disappointment he never had to with Caitlyn.

I hadn’t even realized the simple tears had turned into full out sobs until I heard Ellie’s gentle shush from above me and her arms holding me even tighter to her chest as she did so. “You’re gonna be okay, Mills. I promise. We’re gonna be just fine.”

I hadn’t even noticed I had dozed off until my eyes cracked open again, noticeably faced away from the window and tucked underneath Ellie’s covers. My glasses sat propped up on her bedside dresser already casting a noticeable blur of the world around me. Meanwhile hushed voices seemed to speak from out in the hallway, walls much too thin to hide the noise.

Fighting back a yawn I shoved myself up onto my elbow to wipe at my dysfunctional eyes before stretching a hand out to pluck my glasses from the nearby table. Though I only jumped as the door was pushed open and Caitlyn’s tall figure popped up into view. “Hey pipsqueak, Ellie told me you weren’t feeling the best after I left.” She said carefully as she grabbed my glasses to hand them over.

“I wished she wouldn’t have.” I grumbled as I slid them onto my face only to hug my knees to my chest and glue my eyes to the bedsheets below.

“Why not? Isn’t that exactly what I told you to do? Mills, I would’ve stayed-”

“But- I-I don’t wanna keep you from your responsibilities anymore, Caity!” I exclaimed with a frustrated groan, already digging at my eyes again while my head only throbbed from the aftermath. “I don’t want you to have to tell this really important college society that you can’t be there for your obligations because your mentally ill sister needs you to rescue her again!”

“You are my responsibility, Amelia!” She snapped, the use of my rarely spoken full name making me wince as she pointed a stern finger at me. “You will always be my number one priority because I’m your big sister and it’s my job to protect you, no matter what. And I don’t care what kind of deep shit I get into with the criminology department, okay? Because you come first, always!”

I tried to gulp back the same pathetic tears, but it turns out after you cry yourself to sleep for the millionth time maybe there really is a limit. “I didn’t miss anything, did I?” I spoke up after a moment of silence, feeling Caitlyn’s arm stretch around my shoulder as she took the spot next to me.

“No, but I did do some thinking and if you really don’t wanna go then I don’t wanna pressure you.” She frowned, almost looking down in mild guilt until I leaned my head against her shoulder.

“No… I do. I wanna go and make friends and new experiences and- t-try to be normal.”

“Lovey, you are normal. It’s the world that isn’t.” Caitlyn frowned as she leaned her head against mine. Thankfully she only hesitated a moment though before she cleared her throat and spoke again, “If you wanna go though we should probably start getting ready. If you want me to help you?”

“Maybe you can help me figure out what to wear? And do my hair in those little braids with the clips? And help me with my eyeliner?”

Caitlyn snickered a bit as I lifted my head from her shoulder. “The eyeliner might be a little tricky but I can certainly try. Are you forgetting the prom incident where I quite literally gave you an eye infection?”

“That was definitely just because of the glitter.” I shrugged before swinging my legs over the side of the bed and finally pushing myself up to my feet.

“The eyeliner pen straight to the cornea certainly didn’t help.” She reiterated.

Despite the various complications of having two not at all femme lesbians help me get ready though, I don’t think I looked too terrible afterwards. I had settled on a simple black dress that fell just above the knee with little bows sat atop the straps. English autumns could either be comfortable or frigid though and the current temperature definitely wasn’t comfortable so Ellie tossed me one of her blue flannels to wear over top. Of course claiming it’d be a calling card for all of the hot lesbians, if they didn’t assume we were together first.

Calling the pub a ‘pub’ in an of itself was definitely generous. Besides the one or two older people having their relaxing evening out ruined by the loudmouthed 18+ filling the joint it felt more like a club than anything. Music blasted from the speakers as we stepped inside, Caitlyn on one side with a protective arm around my shoulders and Ellie on the other who looked more and more like she was never returning to America by the second.

Caitlyn immediately dragged us downstairs where most of the students had taken over. It wasn’t hard to figure out which group of friends were hers. It was the largest one, who had currently swallowed the entire center of the room it seemed filling up leather stools and couches with red decorative pillows. “Oi! Cait! Over here!” A familiar voice echoed from the large group, popping his head over everyone and waving the lot of us over.

“Jayce? I thought he finished his masters last year.” I tried to speak over the noise where Caitlyn wrinkled her nose in response.

“He did, guess the old man just can’t get enough of us.” She answered, giving my arm a comforting squeeze as she pulled me along beside her.

The group was probably the most eccentric lot I had ever seen as we approached the cluttered table. Covered in empty and full beer bottles and other fruity drinks along with half burnt out cigarettes. A spread of tarot cards belonging to a skinny girl with the longest and brightest blue hair I had ever seen was currently being scooped up as well causing my eyes to widen in curiosity. A chorus of Caitlyn’s name followed as usual, the usual life of the party whenever I wasn’t there and she didn’t have to babysit. I had almost managed to successfully tune most of the chaotic noise out though until I heard my name followed by the tightening of Caitlyn’s arm around my shoulders once more.

“Lads, this is my baby sister, Amelia. Treat her well or else I’ll kill you slowly and painfully.” She said with a little grin just as a stool was pulled out from where a pink haired individual sat manspreading on the plush couch.

“Have a seat, cupcake, we don’t bite.” The girl smirked as she sat forward almost curiously. Also an American.

“I especially mean that towards you, Vi.” Caitlyn’s expression morphed into a glare as she watched me cautiously lower myself onto the seat like it was going to give out below me any second. “Oh, and this is Ellie- Ellie Williams. Also a fresher. Ellie, Mills, this is… Jinx, Ekko, Jesse, Dina, you obviously know Jayce, Abby-”

“Bitch.” Ellie mumbled underneath her breath causing my eyes to widen for the thousandth time as she took the open seat next to me. “She totally knocked my lights out during practice today.”

“You have to have at least one light on to have them knocked out, Williams.” The muscular woman stated as she brought a glass of amber liquid up towards her mouth.

“Wow, didn’t realize hockey rivalries on the same team were a thing.” Caitlyn fought back a laugh as she went to take an empty seat of her own.

“Oh you have no idea.” Ellie grumbled a bit to herself as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Williams? She yours?” Vi cleared her throat as she nodded in my direction.

“Who? Amelia? I-I mean I wouldn’t complain but we’re just friends.” She answered immediately causing Vi’s eyebrows to lift.

“So- no intense feelings you guys are harboring or anything?” She questioned again as she stole glances between the two of us.

“Unless there’s something she’s not telling me?” Ellie wondered with a lifted brow as she looked towards me as if in confirmation. And it was then I realized how tightly I was clutching onto her hand below the table.

It wasn’t as if the two of us hadn’t thought about it. It wasn’t as if I had spent a solid number of nights in her bed whenever things got really tough. Ultimately though we had decided what we had as best friends was far too intense or precious to fuck up over a relationship. And also just the sheer fact that dating somebody you met in a psychiatric facility disguised as a ‘wellness retreat’ was probably a bad idea.

“No, just best friends.” I answered in a small voice with a simple shrug.

“Okay, so you won’t mind if I buy her a drink then?”

“Careful Vi.” Caitlyn growled from her spot on the couch across from her.

“Ummm, can you buy me a song on the jukebox instead?” I asked, and to my surprise a series of impressed sentiments filled the table. My eyes only furrowed in confusion however as I peered towards Ellie or Caitlyn for help, “What?”

“Because Millie, that was smooth as fuck.“ Ellie answered almost drawing a little laugh from my end.

“Lucky for you, doll, I can buy you both.” Vi spoke as she held a bruised hand out for me to take.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel any butterflies blooming in my chest at her words. The feeling of my heart kickstarting as I placed my hand in hers and let her lead me towards the bar. Her hand was warm and rough in my own, calloused but not in the way Ellie’s were from the constant plucking on her guitar. They were calloused in a far more aggressive way. I should’ve known I was heading towards my own demise in that moment. Falling down a hole I’d lose myself entirely in. An electric pull on my heartstrings that kept me close to her.

Fuck, I should’ve known it was only the start.

A/N: I AM SOOOOO EXCITED TO GET THIS UP!!!! I wanna know all your thoughts!! Tell me everything!! I’m so so SO beyond excited to write more of this I’m screaming!!

Also- psa I know a ton of characters don’t talk/aren’t really in this one. I promise they will be further on! Just need to get an establishing shot first! 🖤

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it-was-summer · 23 hours ago

Text

... And Fall In Love Whenever You Can.

A/N: This fic genuinely had me tearing up as I wrote it. Therefore, it shall hold a sweet place in my heart. As a kid, I used to say, "If something makes you feel, then it is good." I still believe that today. If it makes you happy, sad, flustered, ANYTHING! To feel something while reading is such a beautiful reaction to media. I often cry at movies, I cry when I read romance novels, I cry when I read poetry, and I laugh when I do, too. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you feel something, Em <3 (I also apologize for vanishing; I got sick, and it made me feel brain fog)

Link to the Ao3: ... And Fall In Love Whenever You Can Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Grief support group, mention of death(s), loss of romantic partners, struggling with mental health, tears, the rise and fall that is nonlinear healing, fear of forgetting a loved one, falling in love after tragedy, Spencer sounds like he had therapy, Maeve mentioned, guns mentioned, she/her pronouns for reader used at like one point, Reader's POV for the most part, Reader is in extreme denial and feels guilty, a secret other thing??, lightly proofread tehe!

Genre: Light Angst, Some? Hurt/Comfort, Fluff! Pairing: Season10! Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Plot: Meeting Spencer at a grief support meeting might be the best and the worst thing to ever happen to you- but it's all relative in the eyes of love.

Word Count: 9,791

You were pacing a dimly lit parking lot outside of the funeral home. It had been eleven months, two weeks, and three days since Alexander’s death. The grief meetings occurred every third Wednesday, and everyone was lovely enough. You just couldn’t find it in yourself to go inside this particular Wednesday. Because it was on this date, two years ago, Alexander had gotten on one knee at the aquarium and asked you to marry him. It was two years ago that you had said yes, not knowing that a little over a year from then, he’d be dead.

Your feet kept making strides to the double door entryway, only to slow to a stop when your hands reached the door’s push handle. Then, you’d shake your head and turn around to circle the parking lot once more. With your luck, the meeting would be over before you even got the courage to go inside.

A groan escapes your throat as you firmly put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the Summer sky. “I’m sorry,” Your voice is raw, barely a whisper as you struggle to keep yourself from crying. You knew everyone said not to keep it in, to express your grief freely. It minimized stress. At least, that’s what the grief counselors say.

The worst part was no longer knowing who you were apologizing to— yourself or Alexander.

You were walking around one of the parking lot’s street lamps when you saw someone standing at the doors, frozen in place. It was like watching a mirror of yourself—rigid shoulders, twitching hands, shaking head.

You approach the man slowly, your image warped in the reflection of the glass doors. He turns to face you before you can speak, and he looks like you did eleven months ago. His eyes have dark circles around them, tinted with a red water-line and dull cheeks. That doesn’t stop you from gracing him with a gentle smile, “Are you going inside?”

His eyes meet yours for a second, looking away to glance back at the doors. “I’m not sure.” His voice is quiet, scared. He sounds like he is still on the fence. You nod, drawing your lips into a tiny line as you drop your hands to your sides. “Are you?” He asks, stepping out of the way for you.

You feel your mouth open to say you are going inside, but the words never come. Instead, you shake your head side-to-side timidly. “I’m not sure either,” You laugh out feebly. He nods, a dull smile gracing his delicate features for a millisecond before looking off with a forlorn expression.

“I was thinking about walking around the parking lot again… to try to gain the confidence to go inside. You’re,” you pause, wondering if it's a good idea to offer the man an invitation, “You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

The man looks at you again, his eyes widening for a second. You’re sure he’s about to decline, return to his car, and drive away, but he nods. You feel yourself smiling. It’s a little subdued, but it’s real. You mouth a silent ‘okay’ as you move your hands to your pant pockets, stepping away from the doors with this mourning stranger. You figured you didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to, so everything was quiet as the two of you slowly walked around the large parking lot.

Eventually, your quiet stranger speaks, “Thank you,”

You shrug a little, sniffling, “It’s daunting, especially the first meeting.”

He frowns a little, watching your eyes flit over to him and then back to the night sky. “That obvious?”

“Only a little, but that’s not a bad thing.” Your voice is gentle as your feet slow to a stop, a light smile appearing on your face as you stare into the night. Spencer tilts his head to look at the stars, silently hoping that what makes you smile will make him smile, too. “Do you see her yet?” You ask, voice like honey.

He feels like crying as he says, “No,” He doesn’t even know who you’re looking at.

Your right hand is coming out of your coat pocket as you point to Cassiopeia slowly, tracing the stars with your index finger. “Cassiopeia, she’s a little low right now, but in a few months, she’ll get higher. You see her?”

And Spencer does. He feels his body relax, just for a moment. “I do.” He feels himself smiling a little at the sky, and the feeling feels almost foreign. His gaze falls back to you as you stuff your right-hand pack into your pocket, “I’m– I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’m Spencer.”

“That’s alright; I didn’t introduce myself either,” you sigh before you tell him your name. He nods at your response and follows you once your feet start moving again.

“Have you—” He motions to the funeral home in the distance, “ever been inside?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m a funeral home grief support group regular.” You joke lightly, though the soft chuckle you let out sounds like a sad one.

He nods, nervously adjusting the beige cardigan on his chest. “Is everyone—I mean—” He draws his lips closed as he tries to gather his thoughts. “Do you like it?”

Your feet slow for a second as you think about it. Sure, everyone was friendly, and the support was more helpful than harmful. But did you like it? You give him a little nod when you answer, “Yeah, it’s been nice. Less,” You tilt your head slowly like you’re choosing your words carefully. “Less Lonely.”

Spencer lets out a relieved-sounding sigh as he mutters a gentle “Right.”

“I just,” You swallow carefully, “I’m having a hard time going in today. My fiancé proposed two years ago today. I just— I mean everyone inside knows, I just,” You trail off for a second, sniffling lightly as a cool breeze brushes against your watering eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”

Spencer didn’t know what to say to that. With Maeve, he had barely met her in person before she was murdered in front of him— the future pulled out from under him. Nowadays, he spends his time rereading books, remembering conversations on the phone, and mourning her silently in his apartment. Sometimes, he didn’t know which would be worse: losing her when he did or ten years down the line. Nonetheless, there is no Maeve to help him answer that question.

He struggles to find the words for a second before he nods, slow and unsure of himself, “It matters.”

You grin at how scared he sounds, the sound of a man holding on to the memory of a face that keeps fading away in his mind. “I know,” you can feel the ghost of the engagement ring on your left hand, a ring that now lies in a coffin.

As the two of you get close to the building once more, you ask, “Are you going to go in?”

Spencer swallows hard, the knot in his throat making it difficult for him to breathe. “Maybe next meeting,”

You nod, “Me too.” You stare at your car in the distance before you feel yourself standing in the parking lot with Spencer— unmoving. “I know it’s not a lot, and I know that I can’t help that much, but,” You pull your phone out of your pocket, opening the keypad cautiously before holding it out to him. “If you ever want to talk about it, or anything really, I’d be happy to talk with you.”

Normally, Spencer would decline such a kind gesture. He would thank you, drive home, and find solace in something familiar. His fingers twitch lightly as he reaches out for your phone, staring down at the keypad for a second before he puts in his number. He doesn’t know why he wants to talk with you. He thinks it’s because talking with a stranger about Maeve seemed less daunting than talking about it with his coworkers— his friends. You barely know him, and that makes your offer seem safe. No preconceived notions, pity, or gentle promises of being there for him, just a stranger talking to another stranger.

Two weeks go by like usual— no text from your stranger named Spencer, coffee for one at the café that was Alexander’s favorite, taking his mom to dinner on Thursdays, and so on. Sometimes, the days blur into a muddled painting filled with muted tones, and you try your hardest to remember when everything had a vibrant hue.

Most days are easy, easier than most, at least. It’s not that you forget about him. You remember him when you see a couple holding hands or golden retrievers going for walks, you think about him with everything you see, and it feels good to remember him. You’re happy to have known him so well, loved him so deeply. But all the love inside you has nowhere to go, so you go to his grave on Saturdays, hoping you can pour all the love in your heart onto a tombstone with his name on it. It never works, of course, but it helps.

You're running late this particular Saturday morning. You have two coffees in hand—one of which always goes untouched—and you’re stuck on the metro. That’s when you see him again, your stranger sitting in the fluorescents of the railcar.

Pushing through a small crowd, you approach him, slowly taking the empty seat next to him. Spencer doesn’t look up at first, his eyes glued to the book in his hands. That is until you’re leaning over to him to say a small “Hello,”

He jumps at the sound, head snapping to look at you with wide eyes. He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised you remember him, but he is. “Hello,”

Your eyes meet his, “Do you remember me? I-I’m sorry I shouldn’t have invaded–”

“No! I mean, yes, I remember you. You’re not invading my space. You’re fine.”

You let out a relieved sigh, looking away from him for a second to look down at the cups in your hands. His eyes follow your gaze, and he offers you a shy smile, “Are you meeting someone?” Small talk was never his strong suit.

You look at him, eyes lingering on his polite smile. “Oh,” you laugh like it's funny. “No, it's just me.” Spencer gives you a confused look, and you quickly answer his silent question. “I visit Alex’s grave. He loved black coffee. It was the most unsettling thing about him.”

Spencer doesn’t know how you’re smiling so wide as you say it. How could you talk about someone you lost and smile so wide talking about them? Would he smile like that one day? Would he even have things to smile about, or would what-ifs haunt him until the day he dies?

You find that you hate the silence that follows, the lack of sound creeping over your skin, making you itch to say something more. “I’ve always liked cemeteries too, so bonus, I guess.”

That gets you a sharp laugh, “You’ve always liked cemeteries?” Spencer’s eyes seem slightly brighter now, less red than two weeks ago, and they’re laser-focused on you.

You happily nod, “Always thought they were beautiful. It’s a creation of love, a way for your love for someone to live on.”

“Not sure everyone thinks about them that way,”

“Well, I guess they wouldn’t, and that’s alright with me.” You hum softly as the intercom announces in a static-filled voice that the railcar will be moving soon. “It’s quieter that way.”

Spencer glances towards the intercom for a second before turning back to you, “I suppose you’re right— about the quiet thing, not sure I agree with always liking them.” And he’s smiling at you, a real smile.

You feel yourself smiling back, wide as ever, “What’s your opinion on cemeteries then?”

“I’d like to say I don’t have an opinion on them, but if I had to form one, I would say they’re…” He trails off for a second, thinking about it more now. He laughs for a second, “Well, I suppose I find them rather serene.”

Your eyebrows raise for a second as you study him. How he seems to be relaxing in the conversation, and you can’t help but consider extending him an invitation to your weekly visit with Alexander. The longer you stare at him, the more you think the worst he can say is no, so you ask. “Would you like to join me?”

Spencer reels back slightly at the invitation; it feels intimate, yet he doesn’t want to say no. He wants to see what you see, to understand your mind, “I–” He looks away for a second, staring at the still-opened book in his lap. “If you’ll have me.”

Once you are on the street, you hum lightly while walking beside him. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind very much, his fingers fiddling with the edges of his book that now resides closed in his hand at his side. He’s nervous for some reason. He doesn’t understand why you invited him, nor why he said yes. He thinks maybe he should announce that he has other plans, turn on his heel, and book it in the other direction.

But when the two of you tread closer to the cemetery gates, you start talking again. “I hope you don’t find it strange that I invited you. It’s been a little under a year– well, a year next week– and I know it might seem weird, but I’d like to think he’s happy about me having a new friend.”

He knows it is a coping mechanism, and he knows Alexander cannot feel anything anymore. Spencer’s a man of science, but hearing you say that makes him feel at ease. His shoulders unwind slowly, “He sounded like a nice person,”

You let out a playful hum, “Sometimes. If he didn’t like you, he made it pretty obvious.” You pause for a second, glancing over at Spencer. “He was tall, kind of like you, and nerdy. But he was so funny; no one knew how funny he could be. They never listened hard enough, you know? I hated that people would talk over him in a crowd. To me, he was the only person worth listening to.”

Spencer finds him smiling at that, following you as you take a left. He sees that you're smiling, too, and when the two of you get to his grave, you’re still smiling. You let out a happy sigh as you talk, introducing Spencer as “Your new friend.”

For a while, you tell him stories—memories from when Alexander was still alive—and he finds he doesn’t mind listening to them. He sees them as a great distraction from his lack of happy stories with Maeve. You’re laughing a little as you tell him of the time that Alexander’s mother wouldn’t stop sending him a massive, bulk-sized trail mix every time she sent him a care package in college. He had so many bags that they lived under his bed for the better part of four years.

“Did he even like trail mix?”

“Honestly? Yes, but he only liked the chocolate and peanuts. It would just be massive bags with an abundance of raisins inside.” You shake your head a little as you stand next to Spencer.

Spencer lets out a slightly amused hum. His mind keeps going over how good you are with everything. You talk about Alexander openly. You don’t hold your feelings back. You smile so wide, even when you look at his headstone. He wants to know your secret— some secret to grief that he has yet to uncover.

His mouth opens briefly, closing quickly as he shifts his weight awkwardly beside you. He sucks in a nervous breath as he tries to muster up the courage to speak. “How do–” He sighs heavily, “I mean, I’m sure you struggle–” He licks his lips nervously, your eyes meeting his slowly. “When does it stop hurting?”

You’re silent for a second, your soft smile fading as you stare at him. He’s scared that maybe that’s the wrong question to ask as he watches you turn your head to look down at Alexander’s grave. He is about to apologize when you whisper, “It feels different now.”

Spencer’s mouth snaps shut as he waits for more, his eyes scanning your side profile slowly for some sort of sign that you’re uncomfortable. “Last year, it just felt like–” A pause, your free hand rising to your chest slowly. “It felt like someone had plunged a dull knife into my chest and left me for dead.”

Spencer’s chest tightened for a second, his own heart feeling painfully dull as he listened to you.

“But, I’m not the one who died. Alex did. I was so angry— disappointed that he had the nerve to leave me when we were about to start the next chapter of our lives together. I had–have– all this love inside my heart for him, and he’s gone. It took me a long time to understand that, to be okay with it.”

Your words catch in your throat, and you clear your throat quickly. The familiar burn of tears threatens to build in your eyes as you force yourself to look at Alexander’s grave. “He was so kind, and once I got past that feeling,” your voice sounded thick. “Life kept going, and so did I. He wouldn’t have wanted me to stop living my life. When you love someone, you only want them to be happy– with or without you.”

You sniffle lightly, relaxing your shoulders slightly, “It never stops hurting, I guess, but days get better. I’m happy that I got to be a part of his life. I find some comfort in that. Somewhere, in the story of him, I’m there.” Eventually, you find the courage to look over at Spencer. When your eyes meet his, you find that he’s staring at you with a compassionate expression. You can see the understanding in his eyes. You swallow hard, pushing the emotional lump down your throat.

“It does get better.” You whisper, your voice warm.

Spencer nods quickly, mouthing a little ‘I know’ before his eyes trail away from you for a second. A cool breeze passes between the two of you when he says, “Just needed the reminder,”

The next time you see him, it’s the third Wednesday of the month, and he sits right next to you. You find yourself smiling a little when he does, nudging his shoulder playfully as more people fill the space. He scoffs playfully, the silent gesture letting you know he’s happy you’re here.

The meeting passes like usual: New members share their stories, grief counselors hand out business cards with their phone numbers, recurring members offer kind sentiments, and then, just near the end, your seat partner stands up.

Your eyes widen for a second as you watch Spencer stand, his eyes laser-focused ahead as people turn to look at him. You watch how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. A shaky breath leaves him as he tries his hardest to start talking. His hands flex for a second, pressing against his pants to wipe off what you can only assume is sweat.

He stutters for a second, his confidence creeping away from him. You’re surprised when he turns his head to look at you. His breathing steadies as he watches you. “I’ve been having difficulties sleeping again. After,” His hands move a little as he speaks, his eyes periodically looking towards the rest of the group before trailing back over to you, “I just– I used to have a hard time sleeping, and lately, it’s been happening again. Every time I sleep, I see her, and I feel so–” He used to dream of her after her death, dreamt of touching her, but these were different. Dreams that constantly left him waking up feeling devastatingly alone.

He shakes his head a little, “It’s been seven months, and I keep dreaming of everything that could have been.”

The confession is met with comfortable silence and sympathetic looks, but not from you. You’re nodding, an encouraging smile spreading across your face. For some reason, he likes that better. “I don’t like leaving her when I wake up.” The admission feels like a weight lifting off his chest when he says it.

There’s a pause of silence before he sits down, unsure of what else to say besides his admission. As one of the counselors begins to talk to Spencer, he finds himself listening intensely. Seven months, and he’s finally willing to take some much-needed advice.

After that month’s meeting, Spencer has back-to-back cases. He’s keen on keeping in contact with you, which you’ve said he doesn’t have to do if he doesn’t want to, but he insists. He likes having someone to update, a friend waiting to see him when he’s free.

The next time he’s free, it’s a rare Saturday. He’s been awake since five and can’t seem to go back to sleep. He does keep dreaming of Maeve, but they’re a little different now. This time, he was in a cemetery with you. It was freezing, the kind of cold where you could see your breath, and you were laughing about something when the two of you bumped into her. Maeve’s not angry. She just laughs and glances at Spencer before hugging you. You hug her right back and say something– and that’s when he wakes up.

Spencer doesn’t like the feelings that stir inside him with that dream: confusion, curiosity, sadness, something else. The feeling is warm, tinged with an overcoat of sorrow, and he finds himself needing a good distraction.

However, reading isn’t helping, nor is the crossword. So eventually, he finds himself getting ready to go out for the day in the search of a good distraction that will get his mind off his dream.

He doesn’t know why he thinks about the cemetery where Alex’s grave is on his way to get coffee that day, but he does. A part of him feels that a nice walk will do him good, so, coffee in hand, he finds himself walking… then taking the subway… then ending up in front of Alex’s grave… alone.

Spencer’s lips slightly pout when he sees no coffee cup on the headstone. He knows that you have yet to visit your late fiancé today. He doesn’t exactly know why he’s visiting your late fiancé today; without you, it feels… strange.

The longer Spencer stares at the letters etched in stone, the more he feels a realization dawn on him. He feels guilty… guilty for dreaming of you, guilty for craving your warmth right now, and guilty for a million different little reasons.

Spencer feels his lips part for a second, a sigh escaping his lungs, before he whispers, “I’m a mess. " He knows he’s talking to thin air, but he feels lighter, admitting it to himself.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling. All I know is that I shouldn’t be, and it won’t do anyone any good, and secretly I think–” He sucks in a cold breath of air, “Secretly, I think I don’t deserve it.” The grave is silent, of course, but Spencer smiles anyway.

For a while, he thought his future had passed him by. A brief image graced his vision before leaving him blind. He can see now. He sees that he still has things to do, goals to accomplish, people to meet. Then he’s walking away.

Two meetings and four coffee ‘dates’ later, you’re rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you watch Spencer laugh over something with one of the grief counselors. It’s a strange feeling to see him laugh so openly. It's heartwarming if you’re being honest. It’s hard to explain it, and the feeling is too intense– too raw. It’s a feeling you dimly remember, and suddenly, you’re nauseous.

You have a crush, which is incredibly laughable because you’re an adult. The last time you had a crush on someone was three years ago, Alexander. This almost feels cruel. The longer you stare at him, the more real it becomes.

Spencer catches your eye for a second and excuses himself from the conversation in his polite Spencer way. When he reaches you, he smiles warmly: “Somebody’s all smiles.” You hum with a playful roll of your eyes.

Spencer pouts for a second, good-natured and playful, as he mutters a little, “When did smiling become a crime?”

“It isn’t. I’m just being observant, and you have a nice smile.” You try to keep your voice calm and level, but he seems to catch on anyway. Spencer’s eyes seem laser-focused on you, studying you carefully. Internally, you’re beginning to pray that his profiling skills fail to notice the classic signs: your sweaty palms, wandering gaze, and too-tense shoulders.

And if he does notice… you hope he doesn’t say anything. That’s not Spencer’s way, and you know it. “Everything okay?”

You nod quickly, “I’m good, sorry, I was just thinking about… bills.” You know he catches the lie the second you say it; you can see it in his amused smile.

“Bills?”

“Bills.”

“I’m not sure I like this story you’re going with, but if you’re sticking to it, I won’t pry.”

You nod, letting your shoulders relax as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Thank you,”

“I was thinking,” Spencer starts as he grabs his messenger bag, following you out. “We could get dinner together Friday night.”

“Why?” Your tone is a little flatter than you’d like it to be as Spencer walks you to your car. You'll admit the idea of being alone with him is nice, but the admission feels strange— still too raw, surreal.

“Because…” He trails off slowly, hoping to find a better reason than it being because he wants to have dinner with you, but the longer he sits with the ideas, the more he feels like you’ll turn down his idea. He feels self-preservation take over, and for the first time (and what he hopes is the only time), he lies to you. “My teammates are having a get-together.”

“Oh!” You say as the two of you reach your car. “And you want me to meet them or?” The idea seems less daunting. Yes, Spencer and you had been to get coffee together, but that was just coffee. Dinner seemed too intimate, but dinner with friends? Now, that was less scary.

“Yeah! Yes, I think it’d be nice!’ Spencer’s voice cracks slightly before nervously clearing his throat in a weak attempt to control the anxiety that creeps into his tone. “Would you… like to meet them?”

You’re leaning against your car door, and the air smells sharp with the promise of snow, and Spencer’s sure you’ll decline. You grin, nodding slightly, “Sure, I mean, it’s just dinner with friends. What time Friday?” Your arms fold over your chest, pulling your coat closer to your body.

“Six.” He doesn’t know how his fake dinner has a time, but he’s surprised at how easy it is to come up with one. “Nothing fancy. I’ll, um, text you the address.”

You watch him for a second, trying to read him the way he reads you. His voice seems higher in pitch, and his eyes keep glancing at yours. You chalk it up to him being nervous. The combination of two groups already frying his nerves before it even happens. “Can’t wait. See you Friday.”

Spencer stuffs his freezing hands in his pockets as he watches you enter your car and drive off. Then, the panic sets in.

He’s tailing Derek desperately, “Listen, I know it’s rushed, but–”

“I don’t see why you can’t just text her the address and ask her out. Straightforward.” Derek says as he takes the left towards Penelope’s office. “Or you could say we canceled and make it just the two of you.”

“Considering I already lied to her once, I’d rather not lie twice. And–” He fumbles with his words for a short second. “It’s not a date. I just thought she thought it was one, and I panicked.”

“What’s wrong with it being a date?” Derek asks, knocking on the door gently before entering Penelope’s office.

“Date?” Penelope echoes back as she turns in her chair.

Spencer holds out a hand defensively, “It wouldn’t— it’s complicated! Please say yes. You’re the first person I’ve asked.”

“Asked what? Am I going to be asked?” Penelope chirps as Derek hands her a coffee.

“Pretty boy here,” Derek motioned to Spencer with a light wave, “Lied to one of his ladies. Invited her to a team dinner that doesn’t exist.”

“A team dinner would be fun! With a new addition, too!” Penelope said with a sip of her coffee. “When?”

“Friday,” Spencer mumbles, avoiding her gaze.

“Friday, as in, tomorrow Friday?” She sucks in a breath of air, “Spencer…”

He frowns and mouths a little, ‘I know’. He looks at them, pleading, “Please, even if it’s just the two of you…” He trails off slowly, watching Penelope and Derek share a look.

“I’ll text the rest of the group.”

“Not the whole story,” Spencer adds as Penelope pulls out her phone. “Please.”

“I’m already doing you one favor, boy genius.”

Spencer is surprised at how many of his team members agree to dinner. JJ, Penelope, and Derek all promise to bring their respective partners. Rossi and Hotch politely decline, but given his sudden plans, he doesn’t blame them.

However, by the time five-thirty rolls around, he can see that he’s been played. The first text comes from JJ, claiming that Henry is sick and that she can’t make it. Derek follows, saying that he accidentally double-booked and cannot cancel his reservation with Savannah. He can feel himself sending a silent prayer to Penelope before she, too, is texting him to cancel.

So now, he stands outside the restaurant in a long brown trench coat and purple scarf tied tight around his neck. When you arrive, adorned with a cream sweater and rosy cheeks, you ask him the inevitable: “Where’s the team?”

Spencer's throat tightens as he answers, “They’ve canceled, so it’ll be just us if that’s alright with you?”

He can see your smile falter momentarily before you nod, “That’s fine, another time.” You shiver a little, glancing towards the restaurant. “Should we…?” Spencer, silently elated that you aren’t leaving, nods and hurriedly rushes over to open the door for you.

Once seated, you are greeted by a slightly uncomfortable awkward silence. You’re sure that it will soon resolve itself, but Spencer seems too lost in his thoughts, and it becomes clear that if you want this long silence to end, you’ll have to speak first.

“I’m sorry every–”

“Do you–”

The two of you stare at each other briefly before laughing softly. Spencer’s eyes crinkle a little when he’s laughing, a feature you seem to be adoring silently before he says, “I’m sorry that everyone canceled.”

You push out a little breath, your gaze falling to the menu on the table. “That’s okay, I’m sure everyone has busy lives.” You shrug a bit before glancing up at him, “I do have a question for you, though,” You watch as Spencer’s back straightens, and he gives you a small smile as the ‘go ahead.’

You flatten out the front of your sweater nervously, “Do you think it’s weird that I was supposed to meet your friends— the team?”

Spencer gives you a slightly confused look before you quickly add, “I don’t think it is, but I was talking to my coworker about tonight, and she said it seemed like an excuse for a date. Then I explained it, and she called it weird, and I don’t know—Do you think it’s weird?”

Spencer can feel his cheeks heating up against his will, and his head shakes from side to side, “No! No, it’s not weird.” he pauses, thinking about it for a second. “Well, maybe a little. But not for you, for me. You’ve never expressed an intense interest in meeting them, but they mentioned bringing someone, and I thought—” He motions to you with a shaky hand, “Thought you’d be a good person to bring to dinner. You’re lovely, and my friend, and I—” he feels the rest of his words die in his throat. He wants to tell you that he wants the team to meet you. He wants everyone to see how wonderful and kind you are.

He feels his mouth dry, realizing he wants you to meet the team now. He wants a third party to witness your calming effect on him, and, most importantly, he wants them to like you because he likes you.

A slow ringing grows in his ears at the full realization of his feelings for you. Your smile, usually calming, has his heart leaping in his chest. He finds himself leaning closer when you say, “I didn’t think it was weird either,”

Spencer lets out a little huff of relief, “Good, that’s good.” His heart was beating fast in his chest. He knew he had feelings for you but was unaware of how deep they ran.

“Though I will say, it is strange that they all canceled.”

He feels awful lying to you. He can count two lies now and doesn’t want to tell a third. “Yeah, I can’t explain that one. They all did it at the last minute. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind, though I was scared this was all a set-up for a date.” You laugh as if it’s the silliest idea you’ve heard.

Spencer can feel his heart in his throat, his breathing quickening slightly. “Would it be bad if it was?” he can’t stop the words from spilling out, his eyes widening at his sentence.

Your surprised face stares back at his, breathless as you look at him. You’re about to say something when the waitress comes by to take your order. You manage a slight, polite smile as you order before you’re staring off at Spencer. His nervous eyes flicker between the waitress and you as he orders quickly.

When she’s gone, you stare at each other with bated breath. You draw in a slow, calming breath when you say, “I don’t know,”

“You don’t… know?”

“I just, I haven’t thought about—” You pause, knowing it’s a lie. “I have—” You correct gently before you let out a frustrated sigh. “I thought we were friends.” Your voice cracks slightly.

Spencer draws his head back at that, “We are friends. We are. I didn't know if you ever thought about—” He doesn’t know what he’s saying. What is he aiming for here?

“Anyone dating you would be lucky, Spencer.” You say, sweet and gentle. You don’t know how to save this situation. Your love for Alexander will always be in your heart, strong and genuine, but… looking at the man across from you.

You watch his fingers nervously trace patterns on the glass of water in front of him, how he’s looking at you with such a sweet expression. You just didn’t think this would happen to you. You were sure that Alex was it. He was all you would ever know— you had resigned yourself to it.

Would you be a bad person if you fell in love again? After everything, it feels… selfish, dirty, wrong, terrifying. “I’m not sure I’m your best option.” Is what you settle on.

Your heart silently breaks as you watch Spencer’s face fall. His nervous fingers slow their movements until he whispers a sad, “Right.” There’s a pause, like he’s deciding what to do next. He then nods, like he’s coming to terms with something.

“Right, I’m not saying I’m looking–” His brown eyes scan your face, “I’m not even sure I want something like that. I don’t know why it sounded like I was. I just want you to know that I—” He swallows thickly, “I like being your friend.”

“Me too! I like being your friend, too.”

“Good!”

“Great!”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, “So we’re on the same page?”

“Same chapter and everything.”

Spencer lets out a huff of a laugh at that, nodding slowly.

The rest of the dinner seems normal; the interaction from earlier seems to be brushed under the rug, and you’re grateful it is. However, the topic kept worming its way into your train of thought. The nagging thought of ‘What if…’.

It's not a terribly horrible idea to date Spencer. If you were honest with yourself, you had thought about it before—not obsessively, just in passing. A little whisper of an idea, lovely and new. It was nice to fantasize about love, but it was just a fantasy. You had a great love, and you were grateful.

Wanting more than that was greedy.

After dinner, Spencer insisted on walking you home. He wouldn’t listen to a single one of your protests and simply convinced you with a firm, “I’ve seen what happens to people when they go off alone late at night,”

The reminder made you readily accept his company on the cold December night. Walking by his side, watching how your feet started to sync in step, your mind began to wander. What did a date even feel like? It had been so long since you’ve had a date… you weren’t even sure you would know if you were on one unless it was explicitly said.

The thought makes you chuckle, earning the interest of one Doctor Spencer Reid. “What’s on your giggling mind?”

“Nothing,” You sigh, glancing over at him. “I was just thinking about how long it's been since I’ve been on a date. I don’t even think I would know if I was on a date if I was on one. Someone would have to sit me down and explain it to me,”

Spencer’s lips quirk upwards at the idea, listening to you. The sweet look he’s giving you is not lost on you as you continue to ramble, “I mean, I’m not even sure I remember the last time I tried to look for a date.”

“Care to take a guess?”

“Uhm,” You draw out the sound as you think, your tongue wetting your lips. “Six months ago, maybe, kind of, sort of?”

Spencer’s clever mind quickly realizes that this failed dating experience happened a month before he met you, and then he notes that it also happened ten months after Alexander’s death. “And.. What do you mean by that? How does someone, kind of, sort of, maybe look for a date?”

You roll your eyes, “It wasn’t really my idea. My friends convinced me to go on some dating apps, and I tried!” You laugh lightly, “Well. I pretended to try. I just didn’t like it. It wasn’t what I expected.”

“What were you expecting?”

Your feet falter momentarily before finding their pace next to Spencer again, “Something from a Nora Ephron movie, maybe? Something like You’ve got Mail.” As you say it, you see the strange look on Spencer’s face, and it makes you grin. “It’s a romantic comedy.”

He mouths a soft ‘oh’ and feels awkward because he still doesn’t know what you mean. You’re quick to explain, “It just means I had high expectations. Alexander and I were friends for a while before we,” You trail off before you wave the sentence off with your hand. “I just didn’t like it. Felt too forced.”

Spencer understands that part, slowly taking a left with you. “Haven’t tried that yet.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

He grins and nods, “What do you recommend?” His curious mind was getting the better of him. His left hand slipped out of his coat as he waited for your answer, his knuckles dangerously close to yours.

“In a world seemingly becoming increasingly dependent on technology for everything? I’d recommend shooting your shot with every pretty stranger you see.” It's a joke, but the idea of Spencer asking for the numbers of every pretty person in DC made your chest feel strangely tight— a light reminder that your crush was still going strong. And you’ve already turned him down.

“I’m not sure you’ve been paying close attention to me these past four months,” He jokes lightly.

“Oh, trust me, I have been.” The words tumble out before you can stop yourself, and you can feel your cheeks growing impossibly hot.

Spencer’s quick to tease, “You have been?”

You nod, trying to act like it's nothing but friendly, but your nervous breathing might give you away. You take a steady breath, happy to think that if he sees red on your cheeks, you can blame it on the cold weather.

Instead, he slows to a stop just steps away from your apartment complex. You stop, turning to look at him, and when you see him, all composure leaves you with one little glance. Spencer’s ears are red, his hazel eyes glued to yours, and his hands nervously fidget with his long purple scarf.

He draws in his lower lip nervously, his brow furrowing in the way that lets you know he’s meditating on something in that beautiful brain of his. His hands move as he begins to talk, “I have been too,”

With that, you feel all the air knocked out of you, and your trembling fingers hide in your pockets. You’re not sure what he wants you to say or do. It feels like a confession, making your heart pound in your chest. His sweet eyes study you, “I’m not sure what I—” He steps closer.

“Not sure what I want. All I know is that I feel something—” He makes a weird motion with his hands like he’s trying to shape his feelings with his hands. “Hopeful? I don’t know! I just,”

“I know.” You rasp out, nodding quickly. “I know.” You repeat it because you do know. You know what he’s feeling, that dangerous feeling of tentative hope, the sense that something is beginning again. The world shifting into focus and becoming colorful again.

Spencer’s gaze softens as that, and then the two of you just stare at each other for a moment. Guilt seemed to creep into your chest, invading your heart the longer you stared into those pleading brown eyes. Some part of you wanted to give it a shot, take him in your arms, and just let go. The stubborn part of you couldn’t let go of what you once knew.

What would you say to your friends— or worse, Alexander’s family? Thinking about being happy with someone else again felt like a betrayal.

Spencer could see the shift in your demeanor, the way your eyes glossed over with emotion, your back rigid, and he knew you weren’t ready. The feelings you were feeling were ones he wrestled with weeks ago after visiting Alexander’s grave. “I visited his grave without you a few times.”

Your brows knit together at that, stuttering gently as you manage a soft “Why?”

“I felt guilty about how I feel about you. I thought visiting his grave would make me back down, but it didn’t. I visited Maeve’s grave and thought about my feelings there too. She would have liked you.”

“Spencer, don’t–”

“You told me once that he would’ve wanted you to be happy with or without him. Why can’t you let yourself be happy? I know it’s uncharted territory; it is for me, too, and he knows you don’t love him any less–”

“You didn’t even know him!”

Spencer's lips draw into a tight line at that. You can’t stop yourself before saying, “You don’t understand the love I had for him. It was different from how you felt about Maeve. It was special.”

Your breathing is heavy, and you're trying to stop yourself from crying. The second you say it, you regret it. Your rigid posture slacks, and you step towards him quickly, but he steps back once you get closer.

“You don’t get to say that,” his voice is colder, his eyes cast down to his hands. Then he takes a sharp breath and looks up at you; his warm hazel gaze turns cold. “My love for her was just as special as yours was for Alexander. I can see that, even if you can’t. But at least I can see when something exceptional is right in front of me. Unlike you, I didn’t want it to slip through my fingers again.”

Your mouth feels dry as you try to respond, anger and guilt fighting an internal war inside you before Spencer turns on his heel and says, “Goodnight,”

The snow starts again as you watch him walk away, blinking flakes out of your lashes, cheeks red from the tears falling as you watch him disappear around the corner.

The conversation is still fresh in your mind at dinner with Alexander’s mom Tuesday night. She lives just outside the city in Maryland, so whenever she made her way into the city, you made it a point to meet up.

She watches the way you’re staring at your sandwich. The intense look you’re giving the meal almost makes her laugh. “Don’t be upset with the club. We can always get you another sandwich, dear.”

You raise your head slightly at that and let out a nervous laugh, “No, the sandwich is fine. I’m just thinking. I’m sorry, Shannon.”

Shannon lets out an understanding hum, waving you off with a simple flick of her wrist as you apologize. “Is it work?”

You give her an easy smile, “Ah, no. It’s… confusing and probably boring; don’t worry about it.” She gives you a little look that says, ‘Come on, really?’ and it makes your smile widen.

“When you retire, everything is confusing and boring, so lay it on me.”

“Shannon, please, I promise you don—”

“I will make you pay for this meal; do not force my hand.”

“I am paying?”

“Exactly. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”

You slump in your seat and nod in defeat. “Alright, well,” you wet your lips nervously, trying to figure out the best way to tell her. “You remember last time I mentioned that I had that friend from the group? The genius—Spencer.”

Shannon nods, motioning for you to keep going slowly, “Well, lately, he and I have become aware of some feelings for each other, and I–” You can feel your legs trembling, “He just doesn’t get it. I can’t do that to Alex or you. He just doesn’t understand—”

“Sweetheart, slow down.” She held up a hand, an amused look on her face as you rambled at the speed of light. “Start over.”

You let out a little huff, trying to calm your growing nerves. You roll your shoulders back, gaining some composure, “I have feelings for him, and I thought it was just a passing crush, but now it’s getting so messy. And he told me that he has feelings for me too, but I told him off, and we haven’t talked in four days– which would be fine if we didn’t fight, but we did— and I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“He’s really sweet and great, but I just… I keep thinking about my love for Alex and don’t want to let go of him.” Your voice gets quiet with the admission. “I’m happy loving just him, only him.” Your voice shakes lightly, forcing your gaze down, your eyes filling with tears.

You hated telling her this— hated telling her that your stupid heart found itself attached to someone other than her son. You mentally prepare yourself for something, anything, yet you still cringe when you feel her hand rest on yours.

“He’s dead–”

“I know–”

“No, listen,” Shannon says sternly, watching as you lift your gaze to meet hers. “He’s dead. Every day, I have to remind myself he’s dead. I know you do, too.” She frowns for a second before she gives you a weak smile. “But, you? You’re alive. You’ve experienced a loss no one should have to experience at your age, and yet here you are. Would he be ecstatic over you falling in love with someone else? Not quite, but I know my son. He wouldn’t want you to be alone. Or worse, unhappy.”

You blink away tears, your bottom lip trembling, “I don’t want to forget him,”

“Who said you’re going to?” Shannon jokes lightly, giving your hand a light squeeze. After a moment, she whispers, “Knowing Alex, he probably sent Spencer your way.”

You laugh at the idea, but the sound dissolves into a little sob, “He would.”

Shannon brightens momentarily, “He was always jealous of how good you were at trivia night. Maybe he wanted someone to beat you for once?”

“Spencer can!” You laugh harder than you should, but you can’t help it. You picture Alex’s face, joking about how you have too much useless knowledge in your brain.

As your laughter dies away, a wave of anxiety rolls over you. “I was awful to him last Friday.”

“Then make it up to him,”

After much deliberation, you knew you would, or at least, you would die trying. The next meeting was in two weeks, which seemed too far out. After three texts, two calls, and one voicemail, you decided to go to him.

You had been to Spencer’s apartment once before and were sure it was on this block… maybe. It was early Saturday morning, and you could only hope he would look out his window and see you pacing the sidewalk.

But an hour passed, and the cold wind forced you into a coffee shop down the block. Shivering as you waited for your coffee, you glanced at the unread texts you sent him one last time before stuffing your phone back into your pocket.

Clearly, he didn’t want to see you, much less talk to you. You chewed on your bottom lip, lost in thought until you resolved that seeing him at the next meeting would have to do if he didn’t text you back before then.

And so, two weeks and no texts back later, you sat in your usual foldable seat and waited. But he never showed. Your eyes watched the doors patiently, and you counted every last participant, thinking that the next one had to be Spencer.

But they weren’t. He was nowhere to be found. You had sat on your feelings for him for weeks, sat on with nasty comments and behavior for two weeks, and found yourself still waiting. He didn’t have to attend every meeting, but you felt even more desperate than before. Hating the feeling, you left halfway through.

It wasn’t like you could force him to talk to or forgive you. But it hurt knowing just how much you had hurt him. Were you being selfish for wanting a chance to confess to him again? Was it selfish how you looked for him in every crowd?

The unfortunate reality of your pain was that you were so scared of falling in love again that you pushed love away before it could even touch you. You found yourself driving to Alex’s grave that night. It was out of your way, but you didn’t want to go home just to wait by the phone again.

After parking in a nearby parking lot, you found yourself standing in the middle of a very dark, isolated cemetery. If Spencer were here, he would say how dangerous this was, maybe even throw in a statistic just to solidify his point.

You smile, eyes adjusting in the moonlight as you look down at your dead lover’s grave. You crouch, touching a bouquet of almost-dead flowers at the foot of his grave. “Was I bad at this with you, too?” Your fingers trace the brittle petals of a dying rose.

You can hear the crunching of gravel and slush approaching you, and a part of you freezes. As the sound gets closer, you can hear panting, your head turning cautiously to look for your rapidly approaching company.

When you see the silhouette of a man not too far down the trail, you tense. How stupid were you to be in a secluded area in the middle of the night? You curse under your breath and stay crouched, hoping it’s just a late-night jogger passing through and that he won’t see you if you stay low.

Your eyes stay on the figure, and you mentally go over possible escape plans when you see it— a messenger bag. What kind of serial killer or jogger wears a messenger bag? Your tense shoulders briefly relax for a second at the thought.

Then, a hint of moonlight illuminates your huffing stranger— messy brown hair and a crooked tie. You stand, “Spencer?” You say his name when he approaches you, the moonlight letting you get a glimpse of his soft eyes for a moment. “What are you… How’d you know I’d be here? What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t at the meeting,” He huffs, leaning over to rest his palms on his knees.

“I–” You scoff, slightly amused. “I left early. Did you show up?”

“No,” he admits, his tone becoming sharper as he catches his breath. “No, I–” he hesitates for a moment, “I saw your car on my way home, and I got worried, and I–” He roughly drags a hand through his curls, “You shouldn’t be in isolated places like this late at night.”

Your shocked expression melts, and your lips quirk into a slight smile. Spencer sees this and responds sharply, “I’m being serious!”

You hold up both hands, “I know, I—” You sigh, a slight chuckle following the sound before you say, “I knew you were going to say that. I could hear your voice when I parked across the street.”

“Maybe you should listen to it sometime,”

You nod, and then a moment of cold silence follows. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment before you feel your lips moving against your will, “You never called,”

Spencer can feel his heartbeat quicken, “Wasn’t aware I had to.”

“You didn’t have to. I just would have–” You cut yourself off, nervously licking your lips. “I wanted you to.”

Spencer stays quiet before he replies with a soft “I’m sorry,”

You find your smile returning as you shake your head, “That’s my line,”

He lets a little chuckle at that, ready to tell you it’s okay, when you quickly add, “I’m sorry for how I acted three weeks ago. I shouldn’t have been so cruel or close-minded, and I should have been honest with you about my feelings. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry for implying your love for Maeve wasn’t special. Oh, Spencer,” You let out a heartbroken sigh, “I feel terrible. I was such a bad friend, and these past few weeks, all I’ve wanted to do is make it up to you.”

You can feel the tears threatening to fill your vision, your cheeks burning in the cold as you let out a meek, “Tell me there’s something I can do to make it up to you,”

Spencer can see your pleading eyes in the moonlight, and his chest tightens at the sight. Ignoring your calls and texts wasn’t easy, but he was convinced that it was the right thing to do. You weren’t ready to move on, and neither was he— not completely, but he didn’t want to try with anyone else. He only wanted to try with you.

He swallows thickly when he says a sweet “You’ve already done it,” Then you’re beaming at him, and he’s right back where he was three weeks ago. As you dry your misting eyes, he softly confesses, “I watched You’ve Got Mail.” He pauses, smiling lightly when you give him a surprised look through your tears. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I–” He nervously moved his hands as he talked, “I watched any Romcom that I could get my hands on because I—”

You smile as he trails off, his hands twisting together in that nervous way that tells you he’s scared to say the rest of his sentence— he’s too afraid to say he missed you. “Me too,” You confess, “I missed you, too.”

He nods, a grin on his face as he looks at you. He can feel his confession rising in his throat, his lips moving awkwardly as he tries to gain the confidence to confess to you again.

But, before he can say anything, you’re speaking, “I don’t know if you still feel the same as you did three weeks ago, but I–” You swallow hard, clearing your throat softly. Your hands move with you as you speak, the cold making them feel slightly stiff. “For the longest time, I couldn’t imagine myself happy with anyone other than Alex.” You blow out a sigh, glancing back at his tombstone. “I thought one great love was enough— I only deserved one. I was happy with that, and I felt lucky for it.”

You can feel yourself trembling, and you don’t know if it’s the cold or your nerves getting the better of you; nonetheless, you keep going, “But lately, I’ve been thinking— hoping really— that you’re the expectation.” You squeeze your eyes tight at that last bit, trying to calm your breathing as you wait for his response.

“If anyone deserves more than one great love, it’s you.” Spencer’s voice sounds closer, soft.

When you open your eyes, you realize he is closer, inches from you. You gaze up at him, giving him a light smile when he whispers, “We can take it slower,”

“I like slower.”

He laughs and nods, “Me too,” he holds out a cold hand for you to take, “Let me walk you to your car?”

You stare at his palm, watching your cold fingers intertwine with his. The sensation makes the tips of your fingers buzz with anticipation. You feel his hand gives yours a slight squeeze before guiding you to the parking lot across the street.

It’s not the last time you walk side-by-side, holding hands in the middle of the cold East Coast winter, and he’s determined to make sure it’s not your last.

And whenever anyone asks how the two of you met, Spencer lets you tell the story, his hand slipping into yours as you say, “Well, it’s a bit of a long story.”

#fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #spencer x you #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid criminal minds #dr reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #...and fall in love whenever you can #it-was-summer

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dsybouquet · 2 days ago

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cant stop thinking about art atelier owner! ellie who recently moved the atelier to a bigger and prettier place.

the former flower shop has stood empty for years since the old lady running it has turned too old. when ellie bought the place from her, she saw the sadness behind the woman’s eyes who spent decades of her life in the building and now had to leave it behind. therefore ellie made the promise to keep the place im a good shape.

that being said, ellie stood by her word. couple of months have passed and the atelier is almost finished. she was missing some things here and there, but the time will bring them in - or rather, her local delivery girl will.

it was a cold november day and you regretted showing up at work. since christmas was approaching, the amount of packages was nearly unbearable. you stopped the mail-vehicle and put your head on the steering wheel. “think about the money, ______.”, you reminded yourself before grabbing the letters from the box next to you.

“williams?”, you whispered to yourself, clearly remembering that the shop belonged to a elderly woman named sophie thomson.

looking at your handscanner, you saw that you also had three packages to deliver at the adress.

thinking nothing of it, you got out of the vehicle. the cold air was immediately piercing your fingers and you wrapped your scarf closer around your neck. the side door slid open and you took the four packages all adress to ‘ellie williams - williams’ atelier’

odd, you thought, but you scanned them in and made your way inside. it was completely renovated. the walls, that used to have a flowery wallpaper, are now painted in a dark green tone, that made the atmosphere super mysterious. brown armchairs and a retro looking glass table, that was littered with art magazines, stood next to the entrance. it felt like a lobby.

“hello? im here to deliver a package.”, you called out, placing the packages on the nearby counter.

“coming!”, you heard a woman reply.

rushing from the backdoor was a woman, approximately around the age of 25. her hair was half up in a messy bun, possibly to keep it out of her face. she wore a beat down overall that was covered in paint stains.

“sorry, didn’t hear ya coming in.”, she then said, looking at you with her piercing eyes. for a second you were just staring at her tattoos, her face and her eyes.

“y-yeah don’t worry! i just need a signature for one of these.”, you fumbled on the handscanner. “can i ask your name, so i can type it in?”

“ellie williams.”, she responded, leaning against the counter, eyeing you.

“alright, miss williams, i need you to sign right on the display and then we’re done.”, you smiled, holding the scanner out to her.

she signed with a smile on her face, and placed the packages on the backdoor.

“hey! i have a few more orders coming in in the next weeks. also some furniture. if anything is too heavy just come in and yell. i will make sure to help you.”, she said, walking back to you.

this wasn’t the last time you had to go to the atelier. actually, mrs. williams was ordering a lot. you always wanted to roll your eyes when you’re collages commented how many packages the adress had, but you couldn’t.

after some time passed, she would eventually start to offer you a cup of coffee or some sweets. eventually you would drop calling her mrs. williams and call her ellie or els.

“what are your opening hours between christmas and new year?”, you asked as you placed her packages on the counter and clicked the ‘recipient’ button to confirm the package delivery.

“we’re closed, but just ring the door bell as i will be here sometimes. maybe you can catch me.”, she smiled and grabbed your to go coffee cup to refill it for you - something that she started to do last week.

“______, wait here for a second.”, she then said, turning her back to you and jogging towards the backdoor. “i got you a little something.”

she handed you a dark green, christmas themed giftbag filled with some chocolate and a little canvas. “thank you for your hard work and for carrying my heavy furniture in here”

“thank you, els.”, you smiled.

back in your car, you looked at the little envelope in the bag. there was a card inside, littered with christmas wishes and..

ellies number at the bottom of it. ‘text me if you see this xx’

#as a mailgirl i need THIS ellie so bad #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #tlou ellie #ellie tlou #the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie the last of us

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highprettybabyy · 14 hours ago

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And they were roommates-

jenna ortega x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, a lot of teasing, alcohol, shy and dumbass reader, swearing, heavy make out session, slight smut?

AN: i saw this idea on instagram and i saw another idea from a reddit story and decided to combine the two lol

this is internal monologue

—//—

Jenna was the hottest girl you had ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on. Unfortunately, she was also your roommate. Not that this was bad but she was just a massive tease and this caused you to be in a constant state of gay panic, so it was just unfortunate that you were constantly blushing and stuttering over your words in her presence. She, however, was enjoying every second of it.

It all started about six months after she moved in. You were getting along really well, I mean as well as you could in your panicked state, you guys had regular movie nights, you would bring her her favourite coffee and a pastry every time you came home from work, she would always cook extra dinner for you so you wouldn’t have to cook after a long day, you would do chores together whilst listening to music, etc. Every time she thanked you or did something for you, blood rushed to your cheeks and her tone left you a stuttering mess. It was quite a sight, you being almost a solid foot taller than the brunette and shaking from the chokehold she has on you.

The first time Jenna almost killed you (figuratively; even though your heart rate was alarming) was during one of your movie nights. It was Jenna’s turn to pick the movie this time. She was grabbing some snacks from the kitchen when she told you to put on the first movie of the Fear Street trilogy. Already cosying on the couch with the warmest, fluffiest blanket in your collection, you obliged and grabbed the chilly metal remote to fulfil her request. Jenna returned with a bowl of popcorn and two glasses of wine. She put the items on the small table in front of you, moved the blanket so she would be underneath it too, and sat close enough next to you so your thighs, hips, and shoulders were touching. You felt your ears become hot from all the blood rushing to your ears, your cheeks definitely turning a dark red. Jenna acted like she didn’t see anything and leaned forward to hand you your glass of wine, leaning back into the sofa so take a sip of her glass. She smacked her lips and turned to look at you “You can start the movie Y/N/N.” Your eyes widened, realising you had been staring at her lips the entire time, “Oh, y-yeah of course.”

Oh well this is it, this is how I’m going to die. The two girls on screen were in the middle of a hefty make out session. Jenna had moved so she was basically half on top of you, stroking your thigh ever since the first 15 minutes went by. You were basically gnawing on your bottom lip, simply biting it didn’t suffice, your entire body heating up from the contact, a thin line of sweat forming on your forehead. You’re sure that your face resembled an overripe tomato at this point. Of course - Jenna noticed and decided that you weren’t close enough to death already.

“Hmm, someone’s enjoying this, aren’t they?” Jenna said with a smirk on her face. The noise you let out was fucking embarrassing. “Well n-no, i-i mean, y-y but n-not -“ Jenna smiled and just moved her hand to your neck to lightly scratch the area there. Your eyes rolled back and you almost let at a moan at the action. The brunettes lips curled up into a soft smirk and let out a hum before turning her attention back to the movie.

Everything changed from that moment on, as she became so much more determined to break you. You were in the kitchen taking over the cooking for once, since Jenna had an exam that evening. You weren’t a bad cook or anything, but you liked Jenna doting on you and feeding you every night. You had offered time and time again to let you pay her back, but she’d make some remarks that left you blushing and speechless so the argument would be dropped for that night. Years of experience left you knowing that after a long day, all you want is a nice comforting meal, and you had no issue in coming up with a recipe.

In the oven, a herb and butter rubbed spatchcocked chicken laid roasting next to some ‘smashed’ potatoes. On the stove, rainbow carrots had been blanched and were now getting some nice grill marks from the grill pan. In the fridge, a kind of big bowl of chocolate mousse was already set. You had just pulled the chicken from the oven and were basting carrots when you heard a key slip into the lock, slightly rattling the door. She came inside, kicked off her shoes, put on her slippers and shuffled tiredly into the kitchen. She moved behind you, put her arms around your waist and laid her head against your back while you worked.

You tensed, “H-hi Jenna, h-how did your exam go?”. She nuzzled her nose against your shirt “Hmm, it was fucking long, quickest student in our class took three hours to fill it in, it took me like four, we didn’t get a break so I’m absolutely exhausted. But what you’re cooking smells really, really good.. do you happen to have some extra? I didn’t have time to go to the store yesterday and I-“ You turned around in her arms, “Yeah of course I cooked extra, I wanted enough for us both to eat tonight and even some extra so you can have it tomorrow for lunch.” Now only realising the position you were in, you tried to look literally everywhere else except those enchanting brown eyes. Jenna melted at your words and grabbed your face. She played with the baby hairs in your neck for a bit before dragging your face down, to leave a very slow kiss on your cheek, making sure that her lipstick transferred to your skin. “You’re the best, baby.”

You were lying on your bed in pain. Someone spilled a drink at work and when you went to go clean it up, you slipped and fell on your back. The doctor had prescribed you bedrest for at least two days, and your work was lenient and gave you a full week off on top of that. Jenna knocked on your door, a bottle of warming lotion in her hand, she came in when you answered. “Hey Y/N/N, how’s your back? I thought maybe you could use a nice massage to loosen those muscles hmm?” You were lucky that your face was already shoved in your pillow so she wouldn’t see the blood rushing to your cheeks. She straddled your back before you could answer. “Can I take this off?” She asked, pulling at your button-down. “Uh huh” You muffled through the pillow. “No, come on, use your words baby.” You squeezed the pillow covering your face “oh my god, you’re trying to kill me.” “What was that Y/N/N?” “Oh, nothing, I-I mean, yeah you can take it off.”

She pulled off your shirt, which luckily wasn’t buttoned because you honestly couldn’t be bothered with the extra movement, a black sports bra the only thing covering your upper body now, and squirted a dollop of lotion in her hands, rubbing them together to warm it up. “Just relax ok, but let me know if something hurts.” with that she started smoothing her hands across the muscles of your back, barely applying pressure. “How’s this?” Jenna inquired out loud. “T-s exellent, th-nks” You sleepily said, comfort like this had been a rare occurrence. You were asleep within minutes, Jenna’s hands working magic on the aching muscles and offering you a break from the pounding pain.

This continued even after your back was better. Jenna came in like once every few days to massage you, every time her hands wandering to more intimate areas of your body, but never actually going there. This session was particularly charged, it felt like a thick cloud of sexual tension hung in the room, almost suffocating you. She had decided that apparently the front of your body needed some alleviation as well. You were slightly propped up on a few pillows, Jenna straddling you while she ran her hands across your upper body. She was getting bolder and bolder every day, and you were on the verge of breaking. She lightly brushed the underside of your breast, seemingly by accident, and you shot up before you could think. Jenna didn’t seem surprised and didn’t even flinch at your sudden movement.

She quirked her right eyebrow up in question when you didn’t say anything for a solid five seconds, staring into her eyes. “Did I hurt you?” She questioned. “Euhm-m, n-no no, you didn’t hurt me.” You decided in that moment that you had enough, and that you had to make a move. You didn’t know how she felt about you and from the outside anyone could see that Jenna was also head over heels for you, but you were rightfully scared. She is your roommate and you would hate to make her feel uncomfortable in her own home by making a move on her. She didn’t respond - her eyes locked onto yours and trying to make you squirm. After thinking about everything for a few seconds you decided on something.

“How about I pay you back for all these massages you’ve given me?” Now it was your turn to see her flustered and wide eyed. This made a smirk play on your lips, finally seeing the effect you had on the smaller woman. Jenna wordlessly agreed by getting off your lap and lying down on her back. “My thighs have been feeling a little sore, maybe you could start with those?” She pondered with something unidentifiable in her eyes.

This girl was actually killing you. With every swipe of your hands, a moan or praise left her lips, making you feel all sorts of things. Before she was wearing some high waisted jean shorts, but she decided that you didn’t have enough room to work with and took them off, now only lacy black panties covering her. Your mouth felt dry. You decided it would be more respectful to look into her eyes than anywhere else, even though you desperately wanted to, but looking into those deep brown eyes almost took away the last shred of resolve you had.

“You know I’m actually feeling some tension at my hips.” She bit her lips whilst making the comment. Your mouth still felt dry as you raked your hands a little higher, squeezing them lightly at your destination. “Here?” You sounded out of breath. “Hmm, no a little higher.” You dragged your hands an inch up, almost reaching the fabric of her panties “Here?” Now you also felt like you’ve ran a marathon, heartbeat going haywire. “Hmm, no, you’re almost there.” Fuck it.

Your fingertips slid under the fabric, following the curves of her body, wrists soon joining by how far you suddenly ran your hands up, taking her hips fully - but gently - in your hands, and gave them a light squeeze. “How ‘bout now?” Jenna replied after swiping her tongue across her bottom lip, the action getting your full attention. “Perfect.” She replied, seemingly innocent eyes staring up at you, but you saw the mischief behind them. You continued staring at each other, your hands squeezing every so often, still “massaging” her of course. You finally saw that she wanted you too, the only thing stopping you this game that she was playing. She licked her lip again and this time you actually cracked.

You moved her hips towards you and practically fell on top of her as you kissed her. It was desperate and fast, Jenna’s hands clawing at your back, neck, shoulders - basically everything and anything she could reach to get you closer to her. Months of pent up sexual tension - and frustration - finally pouring out. Breaths and moans slipping out of your mouths as you finally taste each other. Tongues fighting for dominance, but eventually you give in and let Jenna explore your mouth freely, this also prompted her to flip you over so your back was against the headboard and climb on top of you, grinding her hips against yours.

When she needed air, she moved down towards your pulse point. “You can’t-“ she bit your neck, “believe-“ licked it, “how long” kissed it, “I’ve been waiting for this” and moved her head to kiss your lips again. "I think I can, Jenna." You let out in a short breath.

Hands were quickly roaming to everywhere you both could reach, grabbing at each other just to feel the warm skin you both have been craving for. Jenna was grinding into you, a visible wet patch leaking on your sweatpants, a dark grey trail left behind on the fabric. Your hands grabbed underneath her shirt and bra, rubbing at the soft skin of her back.

The moans she let out were making your head dizzy. Your hands went to her hips to help her speed up her movements. Jenna kept switching between biting her teeth into your neck or throwing her head back in pleasure, like she couldn't decide what she needed in that moment. Her hips started moving erratically, and your sweatpants were almost completely soaked.

Her tempo started faltering and you knew she was close. You increased the grip on her hips and with a few final movements, she collapsed on your shoulder with a silent scream. Her body tensing and relaxing in your hold as she got pushed over the edge.

"Fuck- That was- fuck." Jenna gasped out with exerted breath. And before you could even comprehend it, Jenna's hand snaked in your sweatpants, her fingers collecting your arousal as she slowly started touching you where you needed. "Let me make you feel this good."

You woke up to see the room a complete mess. Clothes tossed everywhere, almost all the sheets a bundled mess on the floor, crooked furniture and a halfway closed curtain and it looked like everything on the desk had been knocked over.

It wasn't a bother though. Not when Jenna was cuddling you like this, her chest pressed against you, her legs thrown over yours, and making quite possibly the cutest sounds ever as she snoozed contently.

--//--

AN: hope you liked it :) <3

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega fanfic #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega smut #lesbian #wlw #sapphic #lesbian smut #wlw smut #sapphic smut #lesbian ns/fw #hpb.fanfics #hpb.jenna

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fanficdailyuser · 2 days ago

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Bangchan x pregnant reader

The evening was quiet, save for the soft hum of a playlist Bang Chan had put on—a mix of calming instrumentals meant to help Y/N relax. She sat on the couch, her feet propped up on a cushion, her hands resting gently on her round belly.

“How are you feeling, love?” Bang Chan asked as he walked into the room, holding a tall glass of water in one hand and a small bowl of sliced mangoes in the other. He’d learned quickly that mangoes were one of her favorite cravings these days.

She offered him a tired smile. “Better now that you’re here,” she said. “And is that… mango?” Her eyes lit up.

“Of course it is,” he said, setting the bowl down on the table in front of her. He leaned in to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering a moment longer than usual. “Anything for you.”

Y/N reached for a slice and sighed contentedly as she took a bite. “You’re spoiling me, you know.”

“You deserve it,” he replied, sitting down beside her. His hand found its way to her belly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles over the fabric of her dress. “You’re growing our baby. That’s… incredible.” His voice softened, filled with awe. “Sometimes I still can’t believe it.”

She laughed lightly. “Believe it. This little one kicks me all the time to remind me they’re here.”

As if on cue, her belly shifted slightly beneath his hand. Bang Chan’s eyes widened, and a grin spread across his face. “Wow. That’s amazing.” He looked up at her, his admiration unmistakable. “You’re amazing.”

Her cheeks flushed at his words, and she shook her head. “I feel like a whale most days.”

He frowned, gently cupping her face in his hand. “Don’t say that. You’re beautiful. You’re carrying our child, and that makes you even more beautiful to me. Honestly, I think I’ve fallen for you all over again.”

Her eyes welled with tears, hormones amplifying her emotions. “You’re too sweet,” she whispered.

“It’s the truth,” he insisted, pressing a kiss to her lips.

As the night wore on, Bang Chan made it his mission to pamper her even more. When she mentioned her feet were sore, he didn’t hesitate to kneel in front of her and gently lift one foot into his hands. “Just tell me if it hurts, okay?” he said as he began to massage her foot, his fingers expertly kneading away the tension.

Y/N sighed in relief, leaning back against the couch. “I think I’m going to keep you forever.”

“I’d hope so,” he teased, flashing her a cheeky smile. “Not planning on going anywhere.”

She watched him as he worked, her heart swelling with love. “Chan…” she began softly.

“Hmm?”

“You’re going to be the best dad. I just know it.”

He paused, looking up at her, his eyes glassy with emotion. “That means a lot coming from you,” he said. “But you’re the one who’s really incredible. You’re strong and patient and so full of love. Our baby’s lucky to have you as their mom.”

They stayed like that for a while, exchanging soft words and sweet smiles, the love between them palpable. Eventually, Y/N dozed off, her head resting on his shoulder. Bang Chan sat still, his arm wrapped protectively around her, his free hand resting on her belly.

In that quiet moment, he thought about the future—the late-night feedings, the baby’s first steps, the family they were building together. He couldn’t wait to share it all with her.

And as he watched her sleep, he couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to love and be loved by someone so incredible.

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids #stray kids bang chan #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n

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spahhzy · 2 days ago

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Neo danced with some friends as Jaune just watched with a smile, happy to see his wife well happy and enjoying herself .

Suddenly, a hand touched his shoulder.

Woman: Well, aren't you just a tall drink of water?

The first thing that hit Jaune's nose was the alcohol, and from the looks of it... this lady drank a lot.

Jaune just looked at her.

Jaune: What are you doing?

Woman: What?

Jaune: I'm married, darling.

Meanwhile, Neo was now looking at the woman talking to her husband, and she was no longer dancing, and the smile now gone, replaced with an ever growing frown.

Woman: Me too~

Jaune: Yeah? Where's your husband out there?

Woman: He's in vacuo~

The woman just gave a drunken giggle.

Woman: Where's your wife?

Jaune: My wife is standing right over there, staring at you. *points to Neo*

The woman looked at Neo, who downed a shot glass while glaring daggers at her.

Woman: I'll handle this~

And the drunken soul walked towards the enraged wife.

Jaune: Don't do that...

Woman: I got this~

Jaune: Oh boy...psst Nora! Ren!

The power couple were engaging in a sloppy makeout but stopped as they saw Jaune walk up to them.

Jaune: Time to go, guys.

Nora: But it ain't midnight?

Jaune: It's midnight enough.

As soon as he said that, the shattering of glass was heard as the drunken woman collapsed to the floor as Neo just looked at the woman before grabbing her hair and proceed to slap the now bleeding woman in the face.

Jaune just sighed with a smile, as he looked back at his wife as she started fighting all the bouncers.

Never a dull moment.

Roman: So...

In front of him were his two closest allies and friends, beaten and bruised but smiling like they just won the lottery.

Jaune: In her defense-

Neo: That will teach any whore to even look at my tall glass of water.

#jaune arc #neopolitian (rwby)#rwby silent knight #rwby neopolitan #rwby jaune arc #rwby Roman #roman torchwick

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gracefulserpent1207 · 2 days ago

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SONIC 3 MAJOR SPOILERS!!!

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE FILM

My Sonic 3 Review:

Opening the film with Shadow waking up to memories of Maria I am SICK

Maria... was playing... Live and Learn... on guitar... omg... my heart...

OZZY'S "You stole my hoomans!" LMAOOOOOO

The fact that when Sonic says to Tom "I don't know what I'd do without you, I'd probably be a completely different hedgehog", they cut to Shadow - that is PEAK cinematography!

SHADOW ON HIS MOTORBIKE!!!

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY AGENT STONE ON A MOTORBIKE HELLO???

Tails wanted to go the chao garden he is so adorable I love him so much 😭 and the look on his face when they start performing he's just a little guy 🥺

THE WAY THE CHAO WERE RUNNING ABOUT WHEN THE CHAO GARDEN WAS ATTACKED WAS SO FUNNY

Eggman watching telenovelas is so accurate actually

Agent Stone is just so in love isn't he? In fact the Stobotnik scenes in this film were some of my favourite scenes - Lee Majdoub you're amazing

Keanu Reeves was AMAZING as Shadow

Shadow looked so scared when he was put in the tank and it was filling with water poor baby 🥺

One thing that was NOT on my Sonic 3 bingo chart was COMMANDER WALTERS FUCKING DYING??? THEY KILLED THE OLIVE GARDEN GUY???

Maria drawing a bunny face over Shadow in the tank she is so precious I love them both so much 😭

The little montage of Shadow and Maria hanging out made me SICK (in a good way) especially that scene when he's running through the halls pulling her behind him on her rollerskates LOL

NOOOOO SHADOW YOU'RE NOT AN ALIEN FREAK DON'T LISTEN TO THAT STUPID MOVIE

"There's still light, even when the star's not there anymore" okay so I'm just gonna cry into my popcorn now thx

Stone calling Tails adorable he is so real for that

Eggman saying that he's "undesirable to all possible genders" 🤨🏳️‍🌈 'whoa he's bisexual I didn't know that!'

Speed reference!

"It's like we're in a movie and we're both being played by the same actor! *Slowly stare into camera*" That fourth wall break was BRILLIANT

I can't decide whether Tom's puppet of himself is absolutely hilarious or absolutely terrifying

The montage of Eggman and Gerald lol! (but poor Stone was left out ☹️)

The entire London break-in scene was great! Especially when Knuckles finally got to break the glass!

REVENGE GUAC

Can we take a minute to appreciate the complete contrast between Gerald saying "a WOMAN in the MILITARY 😒" and Shadow saying that the girl in the telenovela should kill both the guys fighting over her because she's "not a prize to be won"?

Also Shadow watching a telenovela and telling the girl to kill both guys is so accurate LMAO he really said 'YOU LEAVE THAT LATINA ALONE!'

Ngl for a hot second I GENUINELY thought Tom was dead that was SCARY

Are we gonna talk about the fact that Gerald and Shadow were ready to kill themselves if it meant getting revenge?

The way Shadow's face changes and he flashbacks to Maria when he sees Sonic knelt next to Tom begging him to wake up... The parallels between Sonic and Shadow in this film... Oh my goodness...

Sonic getting mad enough to steal the Master Emerald from Knuckles was also NOT on my Sonic 3 bingo chart - I thought we were gonna see them fight each other for a sec which was CRAZY

I'm not the biggest Wade fan but Sonic effortlessly taking the Master Emerald from him and him replying "well I tried" was comedy GOLD - all that training in the Knuckles series for nothing huh 😂

Sonic turning super for vengeance purposes oh my goodness...

Maria's death scene really gave me goosebumps - the way Commander Walters shouts "don't shoot they're children!" - the way Shadow's face changes when he sees Maria dead - the way Gerald was crying...

I think it really says a lot about G.U.N that in this version, they didn't even shoot Maria but they were still actively responsible for her death - that officer DID shoot and he DID try and aim at Maria and that explosion WAS caused by him

Obviously I hate G.U.N but I actually feel kinda bad for Walters now like he really did try to save her didn't he 🫤

Both Gerald and Walters refer to Maria AND Shadow as children which I appreciate cuz it shows how young Shadow really was when everything went to hell for him - he's just a baby your honour he didn't MEAN to blow up earth 🥺

Sonic attacking Shadow in super form was just... WOW! He was REALLY angry wasnt he?

SUPER SONIC VS SUPER SHADOW??? HOLY SHIT!!! THAT BATTLE WAS EPIC!!! 🤯

Sonic almost killing Shadow over him almost killing Tom was a really great way to relate Sonic and Shadow's stories - Sonic coming around when Shadow points to his heart, thinking about what Tom said at the start of the film parallelling Shadow then coming around after remembering what Maria said to him... This is one hell of a film!

Sonic and Shadow watching the sun come up together as Shadow repeats what Maria says about light and stars 😭

"Don't tell me you've got a catchphrase..." "Yep, and everyone loves it!" Another fourth wall break that did NOT disappoint.

LIVE AND LEARRRRRN!!! HANGING ON THE EDGE OF TOMMOROW— 🎶

THEY DID THE SA2 POSE!!! I REPEAT, THEY DID THE SA2 POSE!!! AND IN SUPER FORM TOO!!!

Did they just... fucking... incinerate Gerald... wtf.... RIP I guess...

Shadow attacked those robots with SUPER CHOAS SPEARS in one scene!!! Which is AWESOME!!!

Eggman switching sides cuz even he knows blowing up the world is a bad idea 👍

I could go on and on and on about the Super Sonic and Super Shadow scene IT WAS SO GOOD!!!

Sonic falling to earth gave me a heart attack. Tails then falling to earth whilst trying to save Sonic also gave me a heart attack. Knuckles going to save them both making me think he was also gonna fall to earth gave me a third heart attack.

The way I physically leaned forward in my seat when Shadow took off his inhibitor rings—

They pissed on the moon.

We've seen Shadow smile so much in this film and it is SO refreshing to see! That smile right before he and Sonic team up to attack those robots Gerald sends after them is my favourite smile we've ever seen on him.

Eggman dedicated his last speech before dying to Stone 😭😩🥹 AND STONE SAYING "I CAN'T LOSE YOU AGAIN" THEY BETTER KISS IN THE NEXT FILM I SWEAR—

Team Sonic hug 🥹

Ending on the race was perfect (bonus points for Ozzy barking with subtitles again because that was HILARIOUS)

WE GON RUN IT RUN IT RUN IT TILL WE RUNNING OUTTA ROAD 💃💃💃

OMG AMY! AMY AMY AMY OH MY GOODNESS AMY! HELLO AMY! I'VE MISSED YOU SWEET AMY! AMY AMY AMY AMY AMY AMY!!! I GOT SO EXCITED WHEN I SAW THAT HAMMER! AMY ROSE! HI!!! YOU LOOK SO GOOD!!! AMY AMY AMY!!!

Oh yeah and Metal Sonic.

AMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!

So great to see that Shadow's NOT dead (although tbf I did kinda expect that - it would've been unlikely that they genuinely kill him off when he's such a popular character)

Honestly I think the END end credits scene was a perfect set up for a Shadow spinoff, like they HAVE to make one now

I also think the two end credits scenes together show that Eggman isn't really dead either - again it would be unlikely for them to kill him off PLUS if Shadow managed to chaos control himself out of there he could've easily gone back for Eggman too (and I mean who else is gonna be responsible for creating Metal Sonic?)

AMY, PEOPLE, AMY!!!

Overall, I think it's pretty clear that I LOVED this film! It was amazing and I'm already excited for the next one lol! ❤️

#sonic the hedgehog #sth #sth movie #sth movie 3 #sonic the hedgehog 3 #sonic movie #sonic movie 3 #sonic #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog spoilers #sonic the hedgehog 3 spoilers #sonic movie spoilers #sonic movie 3 spoilers #sonic 3 spoilers #sth spoilers #sth 3 #sth 3 spoilers

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catbolt · 1 day ago

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— FLORIDA KILOS

[SOUNDTRACK] Florida Kilos - Lana Del Rey || ▶︎

Business trips with Sylus are atypical.

[TAGS] sylus x female mc, angsty fluff?, smut, canonical sylus but he also sells drugs

[A/N] written very topically in key west cause my vacation would have been sm better with sylus (i need to touch grass)

[WC] 1.2k

songfic 2/?

They touch down in the late afternoon, the sun barreling down over the horizon dramatically like a ball of hellfire, sending ricocheting red tongues of flame out over a turquoise ocean. She feels the ground rumble as the wheels kiss the pavement, Sylus’ strong hand wrapping around her waist to secure her as they roll to a stop.

They step out into the Florida sunset, deplaning onto his private hangar. His arm remains around her waist the entire while, the only sound other than the whirring plane engines being the clank of his rings against each other as he hoists their bags over his shoulder. They descend onto the tarmac. She looks up at him, his face inscrutable behind a pair of dark sunglasses.

She doesn’t get Sylus, not really. Every time she thinks she does, he does something so unexpected that she has to rework her entire understanding of him. Like when he takes extended time to pet the stray cat outside the hotel, or makes casual conversation with the bellhop with a broad and genuine smile on his face. A smile that falls immediately the second the door falls shut behind them, and he proceeds to immediately check the entire room for bugs and arm himself with a gun from his luggage.

Still a business trip, sweetheart, he murmurs softly as he sees her eyes trained on the way he tucks the pistol onto the stomach band holster beneath his t-shirt. Need to make sure I’m keeping you safe.

She knew about the protocores and weapons. What she didn’t fully grasp until now was that when Sylus once told her he had his hands in a lot of pies, he also meant drugs. That was why he'd taken her to Florida. She catches him on tense calls late at night, tapping into security feeds to scrutinize black cars carrying god knows what illicit substances and paraphernalia through back alleys, even rifling through miscellaneous vials and baggies that are shoved into a suitcase he tells her not to open. She ignores it for the most part. She’s learned to push down the moral ambivalence that stirs up whenever she thinks about what Sylus actually does for a living, the mix of guilt and confusion and frustration at her complete inability to reconcile two halves of the man she loves.

When they’re on the beach together, she just pretends they’re just a normal couple on vacation. She relaxes in the warm ocean, feeling Sylus’ eyes on her all the way from their cabana where he sits, preferring the shade. The corner of his mouth quirks into a barely-there smirk as she exits the water, taking in her swimsuit-clad form as he sips on a glass of dark rum. The second she’s close enough, she’s in his arms, his thumbs rubbing circles into the salt still lingering on her skin, his sun-flushed nose nuzzling into the place where her neck meets her jaw. He murmurs unintelligible nothings into her soft skin, more for himself than for her to hear.

He doesn’t tell her details of the business he's here on in an effort to keep work time separate as much as possible, though she can see it weighing on him each time he gets back to the hotel room after one of his “meetings." HIs face always look tired, but quickly softens into a gentler expression when he sees her, and he envelops her in his arms, peppering fluttering kisses over her face and neck. He deftly sidesteps the majority of her work-related questions to ask about her days instead. It’s not because he underestimates her– he’s just unshakably devoted to her protection, and the less she knows, the safer she is.

She doesn’t get him when he insists repeatedly that it’s just a business trip, but makes a continuous and purposeful effort to make sure she’s having a good time, that she’s enriched and well taken care of. The days he’s gone early in the morning, she wakes up to notes on the nightstand: Got you tickets to the museum, if you want to go today. Or I think you should visit the beach while I’m out. I’ve set up a driver to take you at noon. He insists on private charter planes, private drivers, private security, private beaches and excursions for her, ensuring she’s fully surveilled every second she’s out and about while he’s away.

Only when he’s back at the hotel with her does he ease up a bit, dismissing security detail for the night, taking her out on the town holding her hand tightly all the while. He buys her all the mai tais and mojitos she asks for, walking her home with a protective hand on her as she stumbles giggly through the streets, hands toying in the strings of her bikini beneath her cover-up.

When he lays her on the bed, French balcony doors blown open haphazardly by the wind, the sound of the waves battering softly against the shore and the chirp of cicadas are the only sounds other than their breathing. He removes each piece of her clothing slowly, tantalizingly, not with the intention to tease (though that is inevitably the resulting effect) but more because he simply cherishes each millisecond he spends uncovering another sliver of her body, each inch of her he reveals sending a shiver through him like he's discovering a secret. He worships her with slow wet kisses, his hands following close behind everywhere his lips have touched, soothing the skin that blooms purple and red with gentle caresses. He grips her hips softly when he enters her, exhaling a deep and heavy sigh, rocking back and forth achingly slowly with his eyes closed in bliss. He holds her securely in his arms with one hand on the small of her back and the other behind her neck, fingers pressing into her skin, each fingertip of pressure sending hot spears of desire deep into her body.

She doesn’t quite understand the loving things he whispers into her ears in times like this. She doesn’t get where it comes from, the rare, delicate softness in his words so strikingly absent from the way he talks to anyone else— so beautiful for me, my dove, I worship you, my gorgeous girl…

Afterwards, he stands on the balcony, cigarette clamped between his lips as he stares out over the ocean, hair damp from the shower and towel slung low over his hips. He swirls a glass of whisky in his other hand, tendrils of smoke clawing their way into the tepid night air through his teeth. Faint music from the nearby bars mingles with the sound of gentle waves upon the shore, so soft it sounds almost like ripples, like rain.

When he’s in his head like this she knows better than to ask him what he’s thinking. Instead, she just comes up behind him, standing not too close or too far, resting her elbows on the banister. They both watch the starlight freckle the surface of the ocean outside.

I love you, Sylus mumbles. It’s what he always says when he doesn’t know what else to. The utterance is so quiet it’s nearly drowned out by the sound of the water, but she catches it, just barely.

I love you too.

#sylus #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace #lads #lads sylus #lads fanfic #lads smut #lads angst #qin che #sylus qin #sylus x mc #songfics #l&ds sylus #l&ds #lads fluff #love and deepspace fic #the way i was like thissss close to writing cokeheadsylus but i held back for now

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whumblr · 17 hours ago

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Losing battles, winning wars

Crossed out - Continued from ch.11 - Prologue

“A visitor?”

Ava brought up her agenda for the day, pressing the phone to her ear with her shoulder. Sure enough, she hadn’t missed anything; the only thing scheduled for the upcoming hour was a quick meet with Sarah. No outside clients for today. With half an eye still on the file in her hand and the phone in the other, the name the receptionist gave her didn’t fully register through her surprise—and annoyance.

“Yes, ma’am, he is—"

“Tell him I don’t do walk-ins, Fletcher, and that he can make an appointment like the rest of the world.”

A soft rustle sounded, as if Fletcher turned away from his visitor and cupped a hand to the phone. “He says he’s police,” he whispered, “and that it’s urgent.”

Ava didn’t bother repressing an annoyed sigh. “Send him up, then. I’ll give him ten minutes.”

Police… she mused when she put the phone back in its holder, a little more forceful than necessary. Not uncommon given her line of work and the defendants they represented, but usually handled through the right networks and with the right communication. Given this deviance – and the ambush – she had a feeling she knew what this was about.

The USB drive Lucas had given her was snugly plugged in her laptop. She removed it, put it in a drawer, and closed all digital files still open. Unreasonable, she knew that, not like he was going to tell by glancing at the stick what was on it or get anywhere near her computer, but still.

A knock on the glass door interrupted her musings and she turned.

“Ava.” Her secretary, already a girl of small stature, stepped aside in the doorway, dwarfed by the man she was escorting. “Mr Mathison.”

The man gave a polite nod and smile at the girl in thanks and she didn’t seem uncomfortable in his presence.

Ava, however, put on her game-face to hide her surprise. She had seen this man before. Leading a pack of black-clad armed men into a theatre. Marching back out with a bloodied Lucas.

He was wearing the same long black coat as he had then, a white dress shirt underneath and wearing black slacks. Given his clothes, here in the business district he could pass as a cunning lawyer or business man – probably what he was going for in public – and if she’d passed him in the lobby, she wouldn’t think twice about that assumption. But his manner and poise – the at ease stance with his hands behind his back – betrayed a little something else. And, well, having seen him having a bloodied man carried out of a public theatre might skew her judgement. Despite his attempt at this ‘disguise’, it was clear up close that this man was law enforcement through and through.

Not to mention she had done her research. Or rather, Lucas’ research, combined with some searches of her own. She was well aware this was the man Lucas suspected of murder, a man in charge of a prison, probably holding Lucas in custody. Illegal custody.

“Mr Mathison,” she echoed her secretary, but with a hint of ice in her tone. Time was precious after all, especially if it was taken from you like this.

“Ms Akwebe,” Mathison returned the greeting with a slight nod, his voice a deep rumble.

He shook her hand, less firm than she’d expected, and he immediately took a step back, making sure to keep a distance. The gesture seemed polite, but to Ava it seemed calculated. A façade that he merely kept up to compensate for his intimidating presence and that now clashed with how he’d bulldozered his way in here.

“Thank you for meeting me. I understand I am taking up your time so I’d like to get straight to business.”

He sat down on the sofa without waiting for an invitation. And just before he settled down, something caught Ava’s eye and she bristled with suppressed fury.

“Mr Mathison, you’ve either got a lot of guts or a lot of issues carrying that into my office.”

She nodded at the slight bulge next to his chest, under his coat, where she’d noticed his shirt had crinkled in a way that seemed familiar.

He didn’t seem bothered, didn’t adjust his coat nor moved and merely gave a polite smile. “Well spotted.”

“Do I need to call security in here?”

“I do not believe that is necessary. After all, they cleared me at the entrance as I have a concealed carry permit. I do apologise if it makes you uncomfortable.”

While anger was a form of discomfort, bubbling up inside her chest, she would never let it show. She had remained standing behind the other couch, perhaps an unconscious manner of creating some distance between them. But before he could notice and add to her ‘discomfort’ she walked around and sat directly across from him. This was a power play through and through; showing up assuming she’d make time for him, carrying a gun into her office.

“I assume you’re here about Lucas,” she said, not wanting to give the man a way to beat around the bush. After all, ten minutes is ten minutes.

“I am,” he said. “You are his supervisor?”

“I don’t supervise, mr Mathison. I lead a team of skilled people and I need them to be competent enough to work independently, without me holding their hand along the way.“

“Maybe it you hadn’t just held his hand but actively pulled him back we wouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying.”

He held up his hands. “My apologies. You are aware what the charges are against him?”

“Helping a client with some less than scrupulous advice.”

“Yes. We are under the impression that he was acting independently, so none of that rubs off on you or the other people here.”

“Which client?” Ava pressed, and she expected him to blink and go ‘what?’ in that fake polite voice of his but the man didn’t hesitate at all.

“Unfortunately I cannot tell you that. The investigation is still pending and I can’t name names. I’m sure you can understand.”

“I need to know to make sure others don’t fall for the same trap.”

“I can assure you this person will never walk into this building to seek legal or other unscrupulous assistance again. Should that change, I will be the first to give you a heads up.”

He was quite invested in this fake story. While Ava was more interested in the real story and the illegal detainment. But she was stuck there. She couldn’t ask, couldn’t hint, couldn’t press. She’d only oust herself and paint a clear target on her back. So against her principles, she had to relent and allow him a win here. She’d strike when the time was right.

“We think he acted independently,” Mathison said again when she sat back on the sofa, “but I wanted to ask you if you noticed anything… different about his behaviour the weeks before his arrest.”

How antsy he was, bolting out of the building at random times, working overtime once his regular work files had been finished – though uncharacteristically rushed – clearly exhausted but working like a possessed man? While she’d hated him ambushing her at the theatre, at least it cleared the fog and he had finally confided in her. “Nothing unusual,” she lied.

“You were with him the day of his arrest.”

Ah, so that’s why he was here. Combed through security footage, now, had he. She could turn him away with a single word; merely as warden this man did not have the jurisdiction to get involved with any investigation. But doing so wouldn’t get her anywhere, it would only give her a mental win while what she needed were answers.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“We were at the theatre. We were seeing a movie.”

“Which movie?”

“The journey to Mars.”

“Did you plan this trip?”

“We happened to meet inside.” Close enough to the truth with him ambushing her.

“Did he give you anything?”

“Cash for my niece to get snacks.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.” An enormous headache, sure, but probably not as bad as his own when they’d carried him out, near-unconscious. A tinge of rage twisted in her stomach.

He asked several more questions and she answered with as little information as she could but still enough and being cooperative, to make sure that, first, he’d believe she was no threat, and second, to never have him ‘visit’ again for more follow-up questions. At the end, he seemed satisfied and at ten minutes sharp, he stood, thanked her for her time and left as sudden as he’d announced his arrival.

Ava dropped back on the sofa, still whirling from this force of nature that had just blown through.

A knock on the door again, this time from a welcome visitor.

“That was him?” A blonde woman, carrying a stack of files almost reaching her chin, walked into the office. Sarah, the person she actually had a meeting with and who probably had hovered awkwardly in the hallway, carrying pounds of paperwork and waiting for them to finish up.

Ava nodded and sat back with a sigh, gesturing for her to sit down. “That was him.”

With a heavy thud Sarah dropped the stack of files on the table in-between the two sofas. She looked back, as if she could still see the imposing man retreating out the door. “Seems like a handful.”

“You have no idea… What did you want to discuss?”

“You asked me to look into the financial aspects of the prison. His prison.” She nodded back.

“What did you find?”

Sarah scattered a number of files over the table and opened one of them. “Mostly what you’d expect to find. There are, however, monthly recurring transfers that aren’t from the government or charities or corporations, but from private persons or institutions. Booked as donations.”

“Is that uncommon?”

“Not in itself, but it is in this amount and usually donations are one-off. So, I looked into some of the names and that’s where it starts to get odd. I recognised some of the cases connected—” she pulled out two files from under the others and opened one, pointed at the name, “— this one, rather obvious, connected to the local mob, so that’s enough to make you wonder. But this one—” she opened the other file and tapped the name at the top of the page, “—Newport, government family who lost a son in that hit-and-run a few years back, whole thing was splashed over the news.”

“I remember. High profile case. They donated? The family?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Multiple times?”

“Over multiple years.”

“Are we sure these donations are voluntary?”

“No. But it seems they are.”

Ava furrowed a brow. “Are they donating or paying…?” she pondered out loud.

“Donating to keep their son’s killer incarcerated?”

A far reach. Something she absolutely would have dismissed before. Before she had read Lucas’ research on the prison.

She didn’t want to speculate too much. Get the facts first, they will point out a pattern and confirm their hypotheses or not. “Good find, Sarah. Run through all the names behind the donations. Double check them with the names of inmates – ask Robin for help with that, he’s looking into that – see if some are connected to the mob or rivalling factions, families connected to any crimes or victims—”

“Everything.” Sarah nodded, already ahead of her. “I’m on it.” She stood, but lingered near the door. “Any word on Lucas?”

“Nothing. All silent on the front.”

Sarah bit her lip, gave a solemn nod but her eyes blazed with determination, and turned back to her own desk.

Ava looked at the stack of files in front of her. A wry smile formed at her lips and the same determination lit in her eyes.

You may think the world bends to you, Mr Mathison, but that’s going to snap back at you some time.

Backing down was not her style, but she knew damn well when to pull back a little for the sake of winning in the long run. She wasn’t sure she’d parried all of his suspicions but even if he weren’t fully convinced they weren’t involved, he couldn’t do a thing about it. They were all involved. And they were coming for him, and coming for Lucas.

She opened the file Sarah put on top of the stack, settled in for work, and read the top line.

Newport v Georgiou.

Tag list: @gala1981 @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop @andithewhumper @tippytappytyping

@suspicious-whumping-egg @cherrychupachup @alexmundaythrufriday @defire @withdrawingramen

@light-me-on-pyre @treasureguardingdragon @notactuallyluska @fortunately-cool-penguin

#whump #whump writing #caretaker vs whumper #prison whump #crossed out #my writing #happy almost christmas #Im dead tired I'm taking a christmas writing break :))#need to see which chapters are next for lucas...

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