#and going through life without ever reading your writing again after 4 months of falling in love with your writing

[finelinevogue]

could you do some angsty smut please??

oh hell yeah we can. this is going to be 70srockstar!harry with roadie!y/n eekkkk! okay have fun;

Being the girlfriend of the most famous, golden boy rockstar was the craziest rollercoaster you’d ever ride.

For the past 6 months you’ve been touring with the one and only Harry Styles, living your life between helping on tour, drinking endless amounts of wine and smoking a hell of a lot of weed. The job had come past you at the perfect moment. Your dad happened to be best friends with the tour manager, Jeff Azoff, who’d spoken of their being a job opening for a roadie. You were employed to help set up the musical equipment and test out the instruments before the act went on at night, falling in love for the man you roadied for was just an add on. A beautiful bonus.

It was a lot more pressure being Harry’s girlfriend than people thought though. There was so much pressure to act a certain way and present yourself another way. Harry was so idolised and craved by millions and it put pressure on you to be a certain person for him. You loved him so much and you were so scared that he might one day realise that there was so much better than you - at least in your eyes. Someone extroverted. Someone musically talented. Someone who wasn’t a virgin.

Harry had never pressured you into anything sexual unless you were ready. Of course he was notorious for being an above star rating, when it came fo sex - thanks to all the articles published by the many men and women, sometimes both together, he had slept with. The sex reputation went hand-in-hand with his rock-n-roll aesthetic, so that part of him would never change. You’d only been with Harry for 4 of those 6 months, managing to fall for him very quickly, so you wondered just how he was coping without having had sex for that long. He usually had a different person each night to take backstage after his concert to play with how he wanted, hence how he built his reputation, but since you there had been no one.

Sex was such a big thing for Harry though, so you couldn’t help but feel like you were letting him down.

Currently, you were sat on his bed on the tour bus reading an article that had been published about your boyfriend last week. Your heart strings tugged as you read one section of the interview.

Interviewer: The new album, tell me about it.

Harry: It’s coming on slowly yeah. Just want this one to be perfect so, taking my time.

Interviewer: What would you say your biggest inspiration is for writing?

Harry: Changed on every project, to be honest man. Sometimes it’s about past relationships. Sometimes it’s about issues i’m going through. A lot of the time it’s about sex!

Interviewer: Yeah, dude, I have noticed that like every other song is about sex. Is that something you’re quite open about?

Harry: I think sex can be either something so beautiful or so passionate. Don’t believe in sad sex! But, um, yeah i’m always really honest lyrically when it comes to the songs about sex and I hope others see it as that too.

Interviewer: No it definitely does! Thanks Harry for your time and, um, keep on having sex so that third album breaks even more records!

Harry: Will do man!

It was easy to understand why you were upset. Harry’s biggest inspiration wasn’t possible for this album, because you were too nervous to let him have you. All of you. You felt a burden, as if you were holding him back from living his life and creating something so amazing. His past two albums had been such hits for songs such as ‘She’ and ‘Only Angel’, which were inspired by the intimate times with past lovers. There would only be sad songs if he wrote an album without any spice.

That’s why as soon as Harry came back on the bus, dressed in shorts and a shirt that was unbuttoned to see his toned chest, you jumped him and kissed him like your life depended on him. He was taken back by surprise, but welcomed your lips nevertheless.

Pulling back he mumbled some words against your lips, “Well this is a nice welcome back gift.” He chuckled at the eagerness of your lips and let his hands roam over your body - from your neck to your waist and over your ass. This man knew what he was doing.

“Harry?” You whispered, stopping your kiss and looking at his beautiful swollen red lips. He was a sight for sore eyes.

“Yeah baby?” He kept himself close to you and you could feel the stiffie that he’d developed pressing against your front.

“Can we… I’m.. If you…”

“What baby? Can tell me anything, y’know that.”

“Wanna have sex with you.” You told him the most simple virgin way ever, your face heating up when you saw him smirking down at you. You’d screwed yourself over here and were getting all shy and embarrassed about it.

“Hey, no. Don’t hide from me,” He drew your face back to his and kept his eyes on yours to provide you some familiar comfort, “you sure?”

“Mhm, yes.” You nodded affirmatively.

“It might hurt a little, okay? First time means that your cute little pussy is going to be really tight. Don’t even know whether you’ll be able to take me.” He taunted you, cupping his hands to your cheeks and brushing his thumbs carefully over your skin to ease your tension.

“I w-will.” You moused out, wanting to be this person for him.

“‘Course you can. You’re my best girl and I know you’ll fit perfectly for me, yeah?” He rhetorically asked pushing you back to the bed and letting you flop there. You watched him as he discarded his clothes, following his lead, until you were both naked in front of each other. You’d been this far before, but this time it felt different. It felt more lustful and exposed and nerve-wracking.

Harry bent down and started to kiss you from your belly upwards, leaving kisses everywhere until he reached your jaw where he bit more than he kisses. He loved seeing his marks being left behind on your skin, proving to everyone that you were his and his alone. His hands found comfort ins kneading and squeezing your breasts like dough, loving the way they were so soft and yet so hard beneath his warm hands. As he found your lips and divulged in your sweet tastes, you slunk your hand down and grabbed ahold of his cock, pumping him a few times to get him primed. You felt the trickles of pre-cum drip from his tip and it only excited you even more.

Taking your lead, Harry pushed one of his hands in between your bodies and started playing with your wet cunt, paying extra attention to your needy clit. He knew you loved it when his fingers got rough, so that’s exactly how he played. His tongue was battling against yours, whilst you both stimulated pleasure to one another. The wet and beautiful sounds filled the room, heightening your arousal - Harry could feel it too, his fingers becoming wetter with every circle and pump of his fingers.

“You ready, baby?” He asked carefully, plucking his lips away from yours with a wet sounding smack. You already looked fucked out and he had barely done anything to you yet.

“Y-yes.” You stumbled, so excited yet so nervous. You were finally going to give Harry what he had been missing for so long and you were also going to let yourself go, and divulge in something new and potentially life-changing.

He leant back and rubbed his own cock for a few strokes, before lining the tip of it with your opening. He teased your entrance, making you bite your lip in anticipation. He smiled down at you and mouthed the words ‘I love you’ without any sounds leaving his lips, before you did the same. The head of his cock started to push in, but you didn’t expect it to hurt as much as it did.

“Shit fuck, y’so tight baby. Need you to relax for me, okay?” He asked, pulling away so he could watch your body relax. You closed your eyes and took a deep breathe, reminding yourself that the best way to relax is not to think about the problem itself but oh how you’d feel when the problem’s fixed. You smiled and once Harry could see your shoulders un-tense, he, once again, pushed his cock into your opening. He hissed at the contact, obviously finding it so pleasurable even if it was only minimal contact, but you, you felt so much pain and soreness from absolutely nothing.

You couldn’t do this.

“It should just…” Harry tried a different angle, but your smile had disappeared and your whole range of emotions had resumed to flat and disappointed in yourself. “Maybe if I just..” Harry tried to hold your legs a little wider and guide his cock more firmly into your opening, but each time he couldn’t push past a certain point without your body rejecting him or your facial expressions telling him he should stop.

“St-stop Harry please.” You cried, bringing your hands up to cover your face as you let the tears flow freely. “Please stop.”

“O-okay. Just gonna…” And he slid out as much as he’d managed to get in, which was probably less than an inch. It hurt when he pulled away and your cunt felt like it was on fire. It stung and it didn’t feel right. You felt like a failure and an embarrassment.

You cried into your arms, letting harsh sobs take over your body. You chest felt tight and your eyes stung worse than your cunt did. God, you couldn’t even do one thing for him. You were the reason why he was having a hard time writing at the moment. You were the reason people would be disappointed to hear no sex inspired songs on the album. He might even have to use past experiences as inspiration, which made your heart curl with jealousy. You didn’t feel like you were enough for him, like you would ever be enough for him.

“I’m so sorry Harry,” You sat up from the bed, not wanting to look at him and his disappointed expression as he stay knelt on the bed - cock looking painfully hard still. You scrambled for your t-shirt and your joggers and then walked out of the room, across the bus’ narrow corridor, and into the bathroom.

You looked at yourself in then mirror and were disappointed at what, or who, you saw. Looking back at you was the person who couldn’t even have sex. You couldn’t give Harry what he deserved. You were a failure and it was stamped all over your body. You cried as you looked at yourself, until you couldn’t and you just slid down the wall and onto the floor. You wished for the Earth to just swallow you whole. You couldn’t stand being here when you were clearly broken and useless.

Harry would surely leave you for this. Why would he want to stay with someone who couldn’t even get their boyfriends dick in their pussy? Couldn’t give each other that pleasure? Harry had so many people in the past and surely with you gone he’d have so many people in the future. It would be selfish of you to stay. Harry had needs you completely appreciated that, but it would be just so difficult to let him go when he means so much to you.

There was a quiet knock at the door, which broke you from your cries and self-deprecating. “Y/N? Baby honey? Can I come in, please?”

“S-sorry. Yes of c-course.” You stood up quickly, thinking that he was wanting to be let in to go to the toilet or to have a cold shower go get rid of the hard-on that you’d put there. Too bad you couldn’t have taken it away.

You unlocked the door and shuffled past him, only for him to stop you. He shut the bathroom door behind him, leaving you both infinitely pressed together in the pathway on the bus. He had you pressed you up against the side of the wall and kept his arms at either side of you.

“Sweets—”

“Harry, please don’t say anything. I-I know what you’re thinking and—”

“Yeah? And what am I thinking?” He asked, not moving away from you. You held your cries the best you could and took a deep breathe to continue.

“I’m a disappointment. I-I i’m not good enough. I’m broken.” You choked out, knocking your head back against the wall from frustration.

“Stop it.” Harry ordered firmly, gripping your cheeks in his hands and forcing you to look at him. The look in his eyes was so hard to read, but he looked desperate and worried and hurt. You hated to think that you were the cause of any of those emotions. “Just stop.” Harry’s own eyes were starting to fill with tears too and you brought your own hand up to catch a few of them before they could fall.

“Don’t cry, please.” You begged, keeping your hand pressed to his cheek which he absolutely adored. He loved the feeling of your skin against his. He never wanted to not have it.

“Then don’t say things that hurt me, okay? Hearing you say those things about yourself absolutely breaks m’heart flower. Just because you were a bit too tight to take me today does not mean that you’re a disappointment or you’re a failure or that you’re not good enough. It hurts to think that you’d ever think I would think that, because - fuck -,” Harry pressed his forehead tight against yours and fanned his lips lips over yours. His closeness was everything. “I love you so much it scares me. My feelings for you are so strong and so real. I want your forever and something as trivial as sex is never going to make me want otherwise. Do you get that?”

“B-but the album?” You asked.

“What about the album?”

“I-in the recent magazine interview you said that sex is your biggest i-inspiration. I can’t be that for you.”

“Is that what this is all about? Because you think that my album isn’t coming together because i’m not having sex? Did you miss the part where I said I wanted this one to be perfect and I was taking m’time with it?”

“No.”

“Well I did say that, because it’s for you baby. The whole thing is going to be for you. Every melody. Every lyric. Every song. Just and all for you.” Both of you were silently crying now, absorbed in each others love and adoration for one another.

“I-I didn’t know.”

“Now you do. This album isn’t really for the charts or the awards. It’s for you, m’heart. I love you for a lot more than your body and its’ pleasures.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, taking all his words in and realising how irrationally you’d acted out afterwards.

“For what, sweetheart?”

“For even thinking that you’d be so shallow and cold-hearted.”

“You didn’t think that though, baby. I know you and so I know you didn’t. Your thoughts were based around your own insecurities, not to do with your small-thinking over me.” He explained to you, making you nod and kick your lips.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Well then we don’t deserve each other.”

“But i’ll keep you forever if you’d let me.”

“Looks like we’re together forever then, baby honey.”

[helliontherapscallion]

Adrenaline Junkie

Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Ages (oldest to youngest):

Philza- 32

Technoblade- 17 

Wilbur- 17

(Y/N)- 16

Tommy- 14

Pairing: platonic!sbi x winged!sibling!reader

Warnings: near death experiences, mentions of depression, OOC sbi (this is my first time writing about them)

Summary: Philza finds out about your little “habit”

Word count: 1,962

You grinned as you flew through the air with your feathers glinting in the low sunlight. You absolutely loved the feeling of freedom you got whenever you flew. It always gave you a sense of calm when you needed a break from your family. You loved them of course, but you needed a break once and a while; you often felt drained if you didn’t take some time to yourself. The cold air rushed past you as you continued to flap your wings to keep you in the air. 

You could not see the ground below you as you soared higher into the clouds, weaving in and out of them. Flying higher, you steadied yourself to look at the sunset. The mixture of pinks, oranges, and yellows blended together perfectly. You always loved the sunset, it was one of the only consistent things in your life. You wished that you could stay hovering hundreds of feet above the ground, but mobs were going to be spawning soon. The last time you stayed out past sunset you had almost gotten killed by a skeleton. Your dad had given you quite the lecture after he made sure that you were alright. You still had the scars on your arms from when it tried to shoot you out of the air.

You angled yourself so you were upside down, put your arms tight to your sides, and extended your wings fully behind you. You dove closer and closer to the earth, quickly picking up speed. The wind whipped around you as you gained velocity, getting closer and closer to the ground by the millisecond. At the last second, you fully extended your wings and drastically slowed your descent to the ground. The extra velocity you had made you soar up once again before you regained control and landed safely on the ground. The adrenaline that the skydive gave you was the most exhilarating feeling you’ve ever felt, and you were always craving it. Your dad didn’t find it as fun or exhilarating as you did.

“(Y/N) (M/N) MINECRAFT.”

Your father’s voice boomed from behind you. You could tell that he was in a lecturing mood without even having to look at him. He grabbed your arm and spun you around. Grabbing your other arm, he looked you up and down with worried blue eyes. After seeing that you were alright, his gaze hardened and he took a deep breath.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

He rattled on and on about how you could’ve killed yourself, but quite frankly you didn’t care if you died or got hurt. In your opinion, the adrenaline you got was worth it. You had three lives you could spend, and if you did die, you wanted to go out with a bang all three times. What could you say? You were an adrenaline junkie through and through. 

He started to drag you inside the house mid lecture. Swinging open the door, he pulled you towards the kitchen, where the scent of fresh mushroom stew wafted from the pot on the stove. Your brothers looked at you each with their own different reactions. Techno looked as stoic as ever, Wilbur eyed you with slight disapproval, and Tommy looked at you with awe and excitement. They must’ve seen your little trick through the window. 

“(Y/N) THAT WAS POGGERS! YOU WERE SUCH A BADA-”

Tommy’s excited rant was cut short as he saw the stern look on Philza’s face. After a few moments of hesitation, your brothers were making small talk with each other with Philza occasionally chiming in. Poking idly at your food, you contemplated how you should go about apologizing to your dad. 

You supposed that the best route you could go was telling him that you wouldn’t do that again, but you knew you would do it again. That was the biggest adrenaline rush you’ve ever gotten and you were already craving it again. You couldn’t lie to your dad, your wings always gave you away by twitching uncomfortably whenever you lied. On the other hand, telling him that you felt empty when you didn’t have adrenaline coursing through your veins was not an option. He already has enough to worry about with working to provide for four teenagers. Deciding that your best bet was to lie to him and hope for the best, you zoned back into the conversation around you. Tommy was ranting about how he had broken his favorite sword dueling Techno.

“-do you have any idea how long it took me to find that enchantment, Techno?”

Techno huffed slightly in amusement. “Actually I do because I helped you find that enchantment. We found it in the village together, remember?”

“Tommy,” Philza said tiredly, “we can get you another enchanted sword. Techno, you need to be more gentle with your little brother. You have to remember he’s three years younger than you, so he has less experience in dueling.”

Tommy grumbled to himself, busying himself with shoveling food in his mouth. Wilbur glanced at him with disgust.

“Do you have to eat like that, Tommy? It’s disgusting.”

“Well, Wilbur, it’s not my fault I’m hungry.”

“You’re eating like we don’t feed you.”

You usually enjoyed it whenever your siblings argue back and forth like this, but lately it didn’t make you feel anything. You didn’t feel much anymore if you weren’t pulling off impulsive stunts. Of course, you hid it from your family and acted like you did before. It was relatively easy since you were naturally a quiet person. You thought you were doing a great job at it, you pride yourself on your acting skills.

Dinner went by fast without anything notable happening. Since it was your night to clean up, you got to work after everyone parted ways for the night. You stacked the dishes left on the dinner table and got to work washing them. Luckily, since you lived with three teenage boys, you never had to deal with leftovers. You subconsciously stretched and twitched your wings, feeling restless without feeling the wind moving through your feathers. After you got done with putting the dishes away, you took a deep breath and set out on your search for Philza. 

Walking into the living room, you saw Techno sitting near the fireplace reading one of his mythology books. “Hey, Tech. Do you know where Dad is? I need to talk to him.”

Without looking up from his book, he responded in his usual monotone voice. “Yeah, he’s up in his room. I think he’s going to bed early.” He paused for a second before looking up at you with sincerity. “You know, he was terrified when he saw you earlier. He thought that you weren’t gonna stop yourself in time. Hell, we all thought you were gonna die.”

That made you feel guilty. He already had to deal with providing and raising you four and he didn’t need anything else to worry about. You felt your wings droop slightly as you sighed. 

“...Thanks, T. G’night, love you.”

You started to speed walk to Philza’s room without giving him time to respond. You needed to apologize to him and fast. Out of all your siblings, you were always the one to hate conflict and would always apologize first whenever you got into a disagreement with anyone. You were always the pacifist. 

Walking past Tommy in the hallway, he tried to stop you to talk to you, but you ignored him with a dismissive wave of your wing. You heard him mumbling to himself as he started to walk down the stairs, probably to challenge Techno to a rematch. You nervously fluttered your wings, feathers occasionally brushing against the walls and causing you to shiver slightly at the small touch. Your hands were shaking slightly as you took a steadying deep breath and knocked on Philza’s door. Hearing his tired “come in”, you slowly opened his door. He situated himself so that he was sitting on the edge of his bed and gestured for you to sit next to him.

“Hey, Dad. I-I just wanted to say sorry for worrying you earlier. If I knew that it would stress you out, I wouldn’t have done it.” You sat next to him.

He sighed as he wrapped an arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “I don’t care if it stressed me out. You could’ve gotten killed from a fall at that height. You could have lost a life. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t open your wings in time.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Then why’d you do it if you knew that you could’ve gotten yourself killed? I just want to understand why you would pull a stunt like that, I’d never expect you out of all of your siblings to do something so dangerous.”

You took a deep breath as you contemplated your next words. You really wanted to tell him about how you felt empty without putting yourself in danger. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t feel like yourself anymore. Unconsciously, your wings started to twitch and pull themselves closer to your body. 

You jumped when you felt something else wrap around you. You looked back and saw black feathers. Looking back up at your father, he looked at you with a concerned expression. 

“Take a deep breath, you’re shaking hun.”

You looked down at your hands and to your surprise, they were shaking. You took a few deep breaths and clasped your hands together tightly while Philza rubbed comforting circles on your back. 

“...It’s just that, I haven’t been feeling like myself lately, if that makes any sense. It’s like I can’t feel anything anymore without doing stupid things that could get me killed. It wasn’t the first time I’ve dived like that. One time I lost control and almost flew into lava-filled ravine.”

“...How long have you felt like this?”

“A few months now.”

Philza felt his heart break, how did he not notice that you were different for months? You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or permanently maimed yourself and it would’ve been his fault because he didn’t notice your mood shift. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t notice sooner.”

“It’s not your fault, Dad. I didn’t tell you anything was wrong. Please don’t blame yourself.”

“We can help you find something that’ll help you. Something less dangerous.”

“We?”

“Your brothers and I. They’ve been listening this entire time, weren’t you, boys?”

You heard shuffling and muffled voices arguing with each other before the door opened to reveal your sheepish brothers. Wordlessly, they all filed into the room. Tommy grabbed your shoulders and yanked you into a tight hug. You felt Wilbur hug your other side before he pulled Techno into the group hug also. You felt feathers tickle your cheek as Philza joined, wrapping his giant wings around you all. The family hasn’t had a group hug since you all started to hit your teenage years. For the first time in a while, you felt happy without risking your life.

After that night, you were right in your assumption that you’d be grounded (literally and metaphorically) from flying for a while while your family worked hard to find something safe that gave you a distraction. Soon, Wilbur found a book about the intricacies of redstone working and you were hooked. Sure, your family was rambunctious and a strange group, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

[majestyeverlasting]

Hi!! Could you write for Bucky prompts 4 and 26??

♡ Hi, Anon!! I love this prompt pairing so much! Thank you for requesting this, and for waiting on me to get around to it! In this one, Bucky and the reader visit a park in Brooklyn that stirs up some nostalgic memories. But what he doesn't know is that, later that night, he'll learn that he's going to be a father. There's some pretty fall imagery and lots of sweet moments. I hope you like it! (Note: this isn’t canon regarding Bucky’s true age)

♡ Prompt 4: "Remember we used to come here when we were kids?"

♡ Prompt 26: “I’m not reading this thing wrong, am I? You’re really pregnant?”

All I Ever Wanted

There was a crispness to the evening air as the beginnings of fall settled within Brooklyn. The trees of Prospect Park, once green, were slowly transitioning into rich shades of orange and red. As you and Bucky walked along one of the pathways, leaves crunching beneath your shoes, there was an absence of car engines and horns—it was peaceful. All there was to be heard was chirping birds, the soft chatter of other park-goers, and the occasional whir of a cyclist’s wheels whenever one passed by.

Upon reaching a wooden bridge, the gentle sound of flowing water emerged as well. Beneath it, was a slender waterfall that fed into a small pond with dead leaves floating on the surface. Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist as the two of you admired it from over the railing. Somehow the whole day, including that moment itself, had managed to feel like a dream.

The two of you hadn’t been to Prospect Park in what felt like forever. Life had a way of sweeping you up in winds of responsibility that kept you from enjoying moments of stillness. But those winds had since drifted elsewhere, leaving the two of you with the freedom to simply be. Venturing out into nature and away from the noise had been Bucky’s suggestion earlier that morning. There was no place like the outdoors that was capable of soothing the soul.

“Look, doll,” he said eventually. Your eyes followed where his free hand pointed.

On one of the big rocks peeking out of the water below, a yellow butterfly had perched itself on a rock. “Yeah, I see it. It’s so pretty.” You smiled when he gave you a gentle squeeze.

“You know what butterflies symbolize?” You met his gaze, willing for him to continue. “Life and new beginnings,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

For a fraction of a second, you froze. You’d managed to keep yourself collected for the entirety of the day, but hearing those words quickened your heartbeat. Enough so that you became all the more reminded of what he didn’t know—not yet.

That morning, as he spoke to you through the bathroom door about going to Prospect Park, you’d been staring at a positive pregnancy test. You barely had enough breath to agree to the outing. And when he’d asked if you were okay, you told him you were fine, but left out the fact that your lives would be changing forever in the months to come.

The two lines on the stick explained weeks worth of your body trying to communicate to you. It explained that deep sense of knowing that refused to go away. To say that you wanted to merely tell Bucky would’ve been the largest understatement of your lifetime. With all the emotions that stirred within you, you wanted to scream, cry, and jump at the same time.

A voice within you encouraged you to make the moment you told Bucky really special and intimate. Especially considering every turn that his life had taken over the years. So you vowed to wait until the two of you arrived home from your evening at the park.

“Life and new beginnings,” you repeated. You were already aware that such was associated with butterflies, but hearing him say it in that moment carried a certain magnitude. “I love the sound of that.”

Later, after walking further, you found yourselves nestled on one of the benches overlooking the lake. The water sparkled in the warm light of the sun as it prepared to set. A couple men stood peppered along the bank fishing. Children giggled as they chased after each other. Paired with the fall trees and colors all around, it was nothing short of a beautiful scene.

You let your head rest on Bucky’s shoulder, and took his real hand in yours to play with his fingers. There was a time, years ago, when the two of you would play along that same lake—throughout the whole park, actually.

You were the first to speak after a while, “Remember we used to come here when we were kids?” You straightened up from his shoulder to look at him.

“Of course I do,” he said, a smile starting on his face. “Especially during the summer. We’d always try to find open fire hydrants to play in after we left. And if we were lucky, our mom’s would let us get ice cream or shaved ice,” he recounted, chuckling. “Those were the days.”

You shook your head. “I know. Now look at us.” About to have a child of our own, you thought.

“Yup. Time flies when you’re having fun,” he said, casting out a brief look around at the serenic evening. Then he focused back on you, his tone shifting, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah...” you tried not to answer too fast. “Why?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes a bit and gave a shrug. “I don’t know, I can just tell that something’s on your mind—ever since this morning,” he noted. “But you have yet to tell me what that something is, pretty girl.”

It took everything not to tell him right then and there, as you sat under a blue and orange sky in the park you knew like the back of your hand.

You offered him half a smile. “I’m that easy to read?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Not necessarily. I’ve been reading you for a long time so it’s easy.” You allowed yourself to chuckle when he playfully quirked his brows. “So am I gonna have to work really hard to coax it out of you?”

You shook your head earnestly. “I promise I'll tell you when we get home… I have something to show you.”

On your way out of the park, there was a mama duck waddling under a tree with her ducklings trailing behind her.

It wasn’t until after you and Bucky made it back to your apartment, and had changed into something comfortable, that you told him you were ready. He sat on the edge of the bed as you went to retrieve the small gift box holding the pregnancy test. It was a miracle that you had had enough supplies left over from birthdays and holidays to be able to make it look as presentable as it did.

You extended it to him from a couple feet away. So much anticipation had built within you that you felt light, and as though you were buzzing.

Bucky accepted the box, and looked up at you. There was a sparkle in his blue eyes. “Why are you standing a mile away from me? C’mere.” You inched closer, and laughed when he pulled you to stand more so between his spread legs.

As he began to undo the white ribbon on the box, your lower lip was secured between your teeth. It seemed as though he was moving entirely too slow and fast at the same time.

As soon as he popped the lid off to reveal the pregnancy test sitting on top of little strips of crinkled, beige paper strips, your heartbeat sped up. Bucky’s attention lingered on the test. When he finally looked up, his gaze attested to the influx of thoughts that had been sparked into motion within his mind.

“I’m not reading this thing wrong, am I?” He briefly looked back down to stick again. Two lines. “You’re really pregnant?”

A smile broke across your face. With the news out, it felt as though you were uncaging a group of birds that had been longing for freedom for way too long. Before you could say anything else, Bucky set the box aside and stood to press his lips to yours. You stumbled back at the intentness in which he gripped your waist. It was a kiss that you felt every part of him through; his love, his passion, his warmth. And an intoxicating mix of joy and expectation.

He pulled away just enough to speak. “We’re gonna be parents?” His breath fanned over your lips. Then he leaned back in to kiss you once more, a soft peck. “You’re carrying our child?”

Bucky’s hands slipped under your shirt, and the feeling of palms against your skin was pleasant in the best way. One was cooler than the other, but they were both gentle and reverent.

“Yes,” you breathed. “I found out this morning.”

He scratched gently at your stomach, sending a shiver through you. “You managed to keep it to yourself the whole day. That’s what was on your mind?” He kissed you again.

“You have no idea how bad I wanted to tell you. No idea.” You brought your hands up to his cheeks, the budding stubble scratchy against your palms. “But I wanted to wait until we came back from Prospect.”

Bucky released a breath after a few beats of silence. “I don’t even know what to say,” he said, voice low. “This is so crazy—a good crazy.”

“I know. I’m happy and terrified at the same time,” you admitted. “I’ve never felt this way in my entire life, but it feels….”

“Good,” he finished.

A laugh escaped you. “Yeah.”

Seconds later, he was getting down onto his knees to be level with your stomach. It wasn’t until he lifted your shirt to press a kiss to your stomach that the reality of the moment set in. For the first time since learning about your pregnancy, tears slipped down your cheeks.

Bucky heard you sniffle, and stood back up to take your hands in his. “This is all I ever wanted, you know that, doll?” A few tears had come to the waterline of his eyes. “A beautiful wife, a family. This is all something I thought I’d never have.”

You sniffled again, nodding. “You deserve everything,” you murmured.

“I have my everything right in front of me.”

Without waiting another moment, you wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed him tighter than you had in a while. Parents. The two of you were going to be parents.

-

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment, if you'd like. For more fluffy Bucky Barnes fics, click here.

[ah-ga-seven]

No More Pain | Jung Jaehyun

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Fem!reader 

Synopsis: The lingering wounds of your miscarriage have reopened. Now that you are broken up, an unforseen change in Jaehyun’s life has brought him back to your doorstep. Will he be able to fix you this time? Or will he fail just the same as before?

Genre: Angst, One Shot. 

Warnings: mentions of the reader having a miscarriage, depression, alcohol addiction and heartbreak.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Probably one of the heaviest angsts I’ve written. I know the subject is rough but the idea came from a dream so I just had to write it down.

This was a different kind of pang to your heart.

You’ve had your fair share of tragedies, heartbreaks and disappointments, but this…

This feeling was nothing like anything you’ve ever felt before and quite frankly, you wouldn’t wish this upon your greatest enemy.  

It was a Thursday night, one like many where you decided to stay in and recharge from a busy day at your demanding job.

You were seated on your couch with a hot cup of tea as you mindlessly scrolled through your Instagram feed. Completely wrapped in the warmth of your favorite fleece blanket. But even the thick fluffy material couldn’t protect you from the cold shivers that ran down your spine.

You blankly stare at the post your best friend forwarded to you via dm and stiffened.  

Memories of the night you miscarried 4 months into your pregnancy flood back to you as you stare at his comment.

You remembered how broken he looked when the doctor couldn’t find the baby's heartbeat anymore.  

You remembered how he held you as you cried in his arms, promising that he’d love you just the same as he tried to console you to his best ability while suffering himself.

You remembered the pain and the relief of having Jaehyun by your side through it all. Glad that even though your life was about to change forever, he’d be the one constant thing you could rely on.

You remembered all of these moments like they happened yesterday, wishing future you could mentally prepare past you for what was going to be the hardest time in your life.  

The man who swore never to leave you did just that, and not even 6 months into his new relationship, your biggest insecurity was made into a reality.  

He had moved on for good, and even though you have no ill feelings towards him, you can’t help but feel anger over sadness right now.  

It was that easy to replace you. And that easy for him to find someone that could give him what you couldn’t.

Even though your miscarriage wasn’t the direct cause of why he left, the effects of the incidence on your mental health dragged him down with you. So both of you felt it’d be better to part ways for the sake of not wanting to hate or resent each other in the end.  

But God…you hated and resented him now more than ever.  

It didn’t matter to you that both of you started to date new people, because a part of you always held on to the fact that you’d somehow find your way back to each other, though the probability of that ever happening again turned to ash.

Your miscarriage broke you.  

No appetite for weeks, no motivation to get yourself out of bed and no cure for the monsters in your head who told you that Jaehyun was only sticking around out of pity for your broken state.

That same insecurity is what drove him into the arms of the women he told you not to worry about, and now they’re having a fucking child together.  

Knowing that that should’ve been you was a thought that was just too much to bear right now. You suddenly feel sick to your stomach, tears prickling your eyes as you rub the spot on your belly where the mini bump used to be 8 months ago.

You were finally doing better, thriving in your job and social life. Meeting new people and dating a few loose ends here and there, but you can already feel yourself spiraling back into old depressional habits as you stare at the picture once more.  

You pettily decide to like it, hoping it would spark interest from none other than your ex, and much to your surprise, it did.

Not even 20 minutes later your phone started to buzz on the counter as you poured yourself a glass of wine. You mindlessly retrieve it, expecting it to be your best friend but when you see his name as you take a sip you almost choke.

Is he serious?

You try to come up with what to say for the next 3 to 5 minutes but nothing in your head seems to translate your exact feelings to your fingertips.

You sigh in agony while leaning over on your kitchen counter with your phone still in your hands, reading his messages over and over again. You subconsciously start to bite your lip in deep thought, getting startled by your ringtone as your phone starts to ring in your grasp.

“Fuck,” you mumble to yourself, taking a big chug of the alcoholic beverage in front of you, putting on the bravest face and straightest posture to make yourself feel better before accepting the call.  

You knew you didn’t have to answer, but you were dying to hear what he had to say under these circumstances.  

“Y/N? Is that you?” His voice was unchanged. You didn’t know why, but you expected him to sound different, be different. Yet the same worry he’s always had for you was evident in his tone this time as well.

You clear your throat to avoid a voice crack and sigh. “Congratulations,” you tried to sound as genuine as you could, but you knew you sounded like shit.  

You start to play with the ends of your hair out of anxious anticipation, waiting for him to respond on the other end of the line.  

“I meant to tell you,” he starts. “I just…I didn’t know how and Chaeyoung suddenly uploaded the picture and-”

“Jae…please spare me the details,” you interrupt him. Saying his name like you used to felt like speaking a foreign language. He stayed quiet upon hearing your voice again and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Do you still live in the same apartment in Itaewon?” he suddenly asks, immediately alerting you to stand up straight because he could only be asking for one reason and one reason only.

“Y-yes.”

“Good, I’m on my way.”

Just like that, he hung up and just like that your heart rate starts to race uncontrollably.  

You down the remnants of your wine glass and hope he’s isn’t too close because your place looked far from neat. For the next 15 minutes, you run around, shoving things into random cabinets. Whether those items belonged there or not was the least of your concern and just as you fluff the last pillow on your couch, your doorbell rings.

You take a deep breath, calming your nerves as you walk up to your front door, taking it off the lock before you open it with a dramatic swing.

There he was. Jung Jaehyun.

As beautiful and put together as he always looked, no matter the circumstance. You forget how to breathe when you lay eyes on him and gulp. It’s actually him.

His big dark orbs widened as he laid eyes on you after months of not seeing you. His facial expression softened, slowly parting his lips to speak but you beat him to it when you broke out of your trance.  

“What are you doing here?” your shoulders fall as you look into his eyes for answers. The same eyes that once looked at you with so much love and adoration, but right now his pupils were stressfully darting back and forth, trying to read you like he used to be able to but he had no idea what you were feeling right now.

“Because I feel like shit y/n. Please let me in and let me explain,” he pleaded with a defeated tone.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “What is there to explain? You knocked up your girlfriend and finally got what you wanted. Why bother coming here? To rub it into my face?”  

Your plan of staying calm and collected went completely out the window just now and you could tell by the shock on his face that he did not expect you to be angry with him.

He took a step forward, backing you into your own hallway. His height towered over you when you stepped back and without looking back he closed the door behind him.

“Y/n. I would never purposely do that to you. Ever.” You ignore his statement, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I don’t remember inviting you in Jaehyun. Does she even know you’re here?”

You hold your ground, crossing your arms over your chest as you wait for him to counter your attack, but he simply shook his head. Knowing damn well that you’re acting tough just so you won’t get emotional.  

As he’s scanning the premises, his eyes linger on the red wine bottle on your kitchen counter and with a look of utter disbelief, he averts his attention back on you.

“You’re drinking again?” he asks with an almost condescending tone.  

“Did you come here to practice your parenting skills because no thanks Jae, please leave,” you bite back as coldly as you could, but he wasn’t having it.

“That shit almost killed you and you’re just casually drinking again?” He runs his hand through his locks out of pure frustration, not knowing what to do with the misplaced feeling of still caring for you just the same, while also knowing he has no business to tell you how to live your life.

The truth is, Jaehyun had no idea what he was doing here. Everything about the situation felt wrong and he couldn’t lie to himself any longer. Ever since Chaeyoung told him she was pregnant; he couldn’t be fully happy about it. He couldn’t commit to fatherhood knowing how much it broke your relationship. How much it broke the women he loved most to this day.

“A little red wine didn’t hurt anyone,” you mumble under your breath and that comment alone send Jaehyun’s emotions into overdrive, unable to hide his disappointment and worry for you any longer.

“IT HURT YOU Y/N. DAMN IT!” He raised his voice at you as he roughly grabbed your arm to make you look at him, which is the last thing you expected. He wasn’t mad at you. He was mad at himself. Mad at the fact that he wasn’t there when you needed him most and mad at the fact that this is what your lives had come to.

You might have previously dealt with your pain by drinking, and you might have mindlessly mixed your anti-depressants with your drink once, which…just might have earned you a trip to the hospital, but that was your lowest low and you made sure it’d never happen again.

You beat your demons by yourself when he had already moved on, so he had no place to waltz back into your life when he felt like it, just to judge you.

You’re absolutely fuming by now because of that same reason and much to your dismay you feel new tears well up in your eyes.  

“NO, YOU HURT ME!” you yell back at him as you smack his chest, the salty droplets streaming down your face as you kept hitting his chest to make him feel your pain. “YOU LEFT ME.”

Your knees got weak and you knew you looked absolutely pathetic as you crouched down in front of him. Shock took over his features as he got down on his own knees just as quickly, pulling you into the comfort of his arms. The warmth that you used to call home and the warmth that always seemed to calm you down engulfed you completely, a feeling your favorite fleece blanket from before could hardly imitate.  

He patted your head with assuring strokes, whispering sweet nothings to you as he held you on the floor of your apartment. Letting you sob the pain away in his black shirt. “Shhh, it’s okay…” he kissed the top of your head, caressing your cheek as he wiped away your tears.

You calmed down slowly, ignoring the suffocating ache in your head and heart while he made you feel safe and sound like he always did. You sat there like that for God knows how long, letting your minds go into overdrive as silence comforted the both of you.  

Ironically enough, this scenery was the exact same as the one in the hospital 8 months ago. You cried in his arms just like this when you had lost your child, but now you were crying because you had lost him. For good now.  

“I would never purposely plan to have a baby this quickly y/n, you have to believe me. Chae was on birth control but it just…happened,” he whispers, finally breaking the agonizing silence.

You stay quiet, closing your eyes to the sound of his low voice, letting his words register. “I was going to tell you. I was planning to ask you out for a coffee but as soon as she passed her first trimester, she was just so excited and made the announcement…it was just bad timing.”

“All of this is bad timing,” you mumble, which made him nod in agreement. He sighed into your hair as he continued to explain. “Y/n, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care for you anymore. I wish things were different, but they simply aren’t and I’m sorry.”

You sniff, dabbing your tears and your nose with the sleeves of your blouse before looking up at him through your lashes.

“You don’t have to apologize for moving on and being happy Jaehyun. It’s all I ever wanted for you.” You wipe the single tear that remained on the corner of his eye, not having realized that he shed a few tears himself too.

He leaned into your touch as he looked into your eyes before closing them, leaning his forehead onto yours while taking a deep breath.  

“I just want you to be ok.” He says suppressing a sob. “I can’t live this picture-perfect life knowing that you’re in pain y/n. It makes no sense; you deserve so much more it’s not fair.”  

Your lip starts to quiver as his words hit you, and you build up the courage to look at him again.  

He stared at you longingly and lovingly for the first time since forever and you knew a mistake was about to be made when he inched his face closer to you, but it was too late.

His lips made contact with yours and you completely gave in. Letting him lead you into a slow yet passionate kiss that took both of your breaths away.  Before things could get more heated, you realize what was happening and froze.

You take a hold of his wrists as you pull away, your eyes staring into his equally electrified ones as you recompose yourselves.

“I-I’m sorry,” he started. “I should’ve never confused you like that. Fuck. What the fuck am I doing.” He covers his mouth as he got up. Frustrated with his own behavior, he digs his fingernails into the palms of his hands to suppress the urge to swing at your door or any other object in sight for that matter.

You get up just as quickly as well. Straightening out your clothes before shaking off the nerves of what just happened.  

You take a deep breath followed by a shaky exhale as you opened your front door, turning around on your heels to look at an equally distressed Jaehyun.

He was about to speak; about to confess that he still loved you, but you stopped him by raising your hand, motioning for him to keep whatever he was about to say to himself.

Your eyes find his own and you take one last glance at the man that was supposed to be the pillar to your family. The man you used to call yours, and the man that you had hoped to still have a future with, despite everything.  

But you knew better.

You knew what was right and you knew what you had to do before things would start to spiral out of control again.

You stepped aside so he could pass by you, trying to avoid eye contact all while you could still feel his burning stare lingering on your fragile state.

You swallow harshly, licking your lips before you spoke as clearly and steadily as you could.

“For the sake of your family, please leave Jae…and never come back.”  

[andreafmn]

Collision - Chapter 4

Word Count: 3,821

Characters: Female Reader Uley Character, Sam Uley, Allison Uley, Charlie Swan, Bella Swan, Seth Clearwater, Billy Black, Jacob Black, Emily Young, Paul Lahote, Harry and Sue Clearwater, Leah Clearwater

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Twilight, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Stephanie Meyer and Summit Entertainment. The only thing I own is Uley Reader insert, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ story line.

Chapter: 4/?

A/N: Don’t know if I ever mentioned it, but the story takes place before New Moon but after Twilight. It starts at the end of May after the dance, so it’d be the summer before Bella’s birthday in September. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 4

The next time she awoke she was back in sight of the blinding hospital lights. Her head was heavily pounding and the clothes on her body felt alien to her. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the white lights of the sanitized room, but they were suddenly off.

“Back again, Miss Uley?” She recognized the voice, Dr. Cullen. “I’ve already turned the lights off so don’t worry about that.”

Her eyes finally opened to reveal the smooth pale face of the doctor. A wave of calmness rushed over her as soon as her eyes connected with his golden ones.

“What can I say?” She chuckled. “I just couldn’t stay away.”

“Well, it seems you’ve been having a recurring headache, insomnia, memory lapses, and a lack of appetite. It looks like post-concussive syndrome. Your mom told us you were feeling like this for a few days, why didn’t you come back?” Carlisle questioned. He was trying his best to look like he was breathing but if he took even a single breath all his years of self-control would be over in an instant.

“I thought if I could just make it to at least seven days it could clear me from coming back to the hospital, at least as a patient.”

“What do you mean?” This comment had perked the interest of the man. Thoughts raced through his head faster than he could analyze them.

“I was thinking of applying for a medical assistant job here in the hospital. I recently got my degree in biology, and I’ve been thinking of going to medical school after.”

“That sounds like a plan, but let’s work on getting you better first.” It did sound like a good plan to Carlisle. He wanted to be as close as possible to her every single day, but it also meant he would have to work triple as hard to control his thirst. “We’d like to keep you for the next few days and make sure you’re in good health before you can go back to business as usual.”

“How long would a few days be?”

“About four to five days, just to make sure that the symptoms don’t worsen, and we can give you an all-clear.” It would also give him a few days to grow accustomed to her smell. “We can work over that application for medical assistant, make sure it’s something you want to do.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” She smiled at the man in front of her, her heart fluttering with every breath she took. “Thank you, Dr. Cullen.”

“Please, call me Carlisle,” he smiled. “Now, why don’t you continue resting, and whatever you need just call. My office is right down the hall, I’ll be here in no time.”

The girl stared at the retreating form of his body and covered the heat that was rising to her face with her pillow. The butterflies in her stomach had made her uneasy and had her hands shaking. She didn’t understand why she was feeling this way. It had only been a week since her first encounter with the doctor, but those few seconds were enough to have her drooling over the man like a lovesick schoolgirl.

A few days had come and gone quickly. (Y/N) had grown attached to Carlisle, seeing and talking to him every day had felt like a dream. In his free time, she would go over to his office and pick a book to read, which they talked about the next day. They spent hours talking about nothing and everything.

It had been a long time since Carlisle had felt this way, centuries. Being around her had gotten easier each day that passed. Her smell becoming comforting instead of a trigger to the endless hunger for human blood – he’d never had a simple drop of it, but nothing could explain how much he wanted to have hers. Getting to know her had been a welcomed activity by the young doctor. He could spend days upon days listening to the sweet sound of her voice, admiring her curious-filled face when she started a new book – which she read swiftly, taking only a couple of hours to finish most of them.

“Can’t believe you have so many first editions, and you leave them at work.” She ran her hand across the spine of Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment. “I would keep them in a well-preserved chamber, and no one would be able to even breathe on them.”

Carlisle smiled as the girl gawked once again at his book collection. It wasn’t hard to acquire first edition novels when you were alive when they were published. “If you’re impressed by this collection, you’d be completely astonished by the one I have back home.”

“You have more?!” He nodded. The girl shined like a kid on Christmas, her eyes gleaming at the thought of a big library. “Oh, that sounds like a dream.”

“You’re more than welcome to come over any time. It’s always refreshing to meet a literature aficionado such as myself.”

“Really? That’d be amazing!” She grinned brightly. “I could spend all day reading, forget about work.”

The duo laughed. “Too late to withdraw the application but you’re always welcome to pass your downtime in my office.”

“Sounds like a plan,’’ she smiled. “Now, doctor, what will you ever do now that I’m not going to be here every day?”

“Oh, how will I ever go on?” He chuckled. “But if you ever need help during that time, just come by. My office is always open. And hopefully, you’ll visit from time to time on personal time.”

“I’m sure it’s something that can be arranged.”

If there was still blood rushing through his veins, the capillaries in his face would have widened. He felt like he now understood Edward; how being with her made him feel human again. And there was nothing more that he wanted than to take their friendship to another level, but he wasn’t sure if she would ever feel the same. Carlisle knew that she was unaware of the supernatural since (Y/N) had allowed him to be in her life. But what would happen once she knew everything? How could he ever come between her and her family?

“Miss Uley, your mother is here,” a nurse spoke up, peeking her head through the office door. “Discharge papers have already been filed.”

“Thank you, Nurse Dalen. She’ll be out in a moment.” Carlisle smiled.

“Well, the time has come.” (Y/N) took her phone out of her back pocket and handed it to the doctor. He looked at her with a question-ridden gaze. “I’m gonna need your phone number so we can arrange any future endeavors.”

“Right,” he laughed, typing his number into her directory. “I’ll be waiting for that call.”

“I’ll be making it soon enough,” she grinned. “I’m gonna go now. I’ll see you around, Cullen.”

“I’ll see you, Uley.”

She left the office with a huge smile on her face, holding her phone close to her chest. For the first time, she was experiencing something she had heard of most of her teenage years. Once she had met Carlisle all she wanted to do was get to know him better, spend her time with him, just being near him would suffice. It was the first time she was learning what falling for someone was, and even though it was scary, she was jumping in headfirst.

“Hi, honey. Ready to go home?” Allison hugged her daughter for the first time in five days. (Y/N) nodded, truly ready to finally sleep on her own bed.

“So, how are you liking Dr. Cullen?”

“MOM!” Allison laughed at her daughter’s reaction. It was easy to see that (Y/N) had taken a liking to Carlisle Cullen, and vice versa.

“What, darling? If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck.”

“It’s not like that, mom.”

“But you’d like it to be like that.”

“I’m not talking about that with my mother.” (Y/N) placed her cold hands on her cheeks, trying to cool down the warm blood that had rushed onto her cheeks. The cool air of the car’s A/C was only helping her so much.

“I just want you to be careful with that, honey. He’s older than you, technically has kids, and rumor has it he is married.”

A breath hitched in her throat. Married? She knew he had adopted five kids, most of them her age, but not that he was married. Had she read the situation wrong? He didn’t wear a ring, he didn’t mention any relationship, he had no pictures of a woman in his office. Then again, they had only spent five days together at the hospital. She didn’t know what he did when he went home at night, who he went home to at night. (Y/N) shouldn’t feel betrayed—they weren’t anything, and they weren’t on track to become anything.

“Don’t worry, mom. I’ve just been picking his brain about working in the hospital, and he’s been helping me with what I’m gonna be doing this summer.”

“Oh, have you decided what you want to do?”

“I’m gonna get my medical assistant certification. It’s a three-month course then I can work at the hospital.”

“That’s great, honey.” Allison smiled at her daughter from the driver’s side. “Is that where you’d see yourself making a career?”

“Not sure. I want to take this time to see if life in a hospital is truly where I’d like to work – see if medical school would be it for me.”

(Y/N) hadn’t taken the time to focus on her future. In her high school career, she spent her time focusing on the present and piling on as much as she could, and now she had no sense of direction. She would take every day as it came, hoping one day she would find her purpose.

Finally, back home, she hopped off the truck and stretched out her limbs, stiff from the days on a hospital bed. Taking a deep breath of fresh air and basking in the afternoon sun. The cold that had seeped into her bones from the hospital melted off, and she smiled feeling the warmth surround her.

“Why don’t you go upstairs, honey?” Allison told her daughter. “There’s a surprise waiting for you in your room.”

(Y/N) smiled and quickly made her way up the stairs to see what her mom meant. Opening the door, tears forming in her eyes. Her room had done a 180-degree turn. The walls had been painted a light beige color, and plants hung from the walls bringing warmth to the room. The bed was adorned with a white cover, and a fluffy duvet to keep her warm at night. A wooden frame sat atop the bed dressed in white linen and ivy vines. A bookcase lived in the corner of her room, filled to the brim with her collection of hardbacks and peppered with potted plants. Opposite the bed was a small desk with a dark green suede chair, her laptop set up in the workspace. Her room finally felt like hers.

“Do you like it, honey?”

“Mom, did you do this?”

“I wish I could take credit, but your brother and your friend Paul came over when I was at work and redecorated. I was actually surprised that they even came over.”

“I’ll have to thank them,” (Y/N) grinned. Even though their relationship was strained at the moment, and she had yet to see Paul since coming back, she was glad that they had taken time out of their days to do this for her. “I’ll go over to Sam’s house for a bit, maybe now he’ll have time to see me.”

“Why don’t you go tomorrow, honey? You should take it easy.”

“I feel a lot better, mom. You don’t have to worry too much.”

“I’m your mother, I’ll always worry. If you’re gonna go out, go see Jacob. He was really worried about you.”

“I will.”

(Y/N) kissed her mother’s cheek and grabbed her bag to head out. Her first stop was to the Black residence. Jacob saw her coming down the street and ran out to wrap her in a hug. When she collapsed last week, he had been very concerned when she collapsed in his garage. Jacob was glad that she had made a full recovery and was now back home, with minimum side effects showing. The visit was short, only a quick hello to ensure the boy that she was okay.

After spending some time with Jacob, she walked towards Sam’s house – she hoped to catch Paul there too since she had heard he now spent his time there alongside Jared Cameron. It hadn’t clicked in her head why Paul would ever hang out with her brother and Jared. Even when they were back in middle school, he never paid them any mind, having a separate friend group. She had only become his friend by spending time with him away from school, and her brother had always disliked them together, claiming he was a bad influence.

Outside of the small house, (Y/N) could hear the low chatter of manly voices, a higher-pitched one joining after. There was no mistaking that Sam was home. She started feeling nervous as she raised her hand to knock on the door. The shaky limb was able to make contact with the blue door twice before it opened wide open, revealing a shirtless Paul Lahote.

“(Y/N)?” He questioned. Paul knew she was back, but Sam had given him clear instructions to stay away from her due to their situation.

“Hey, Paul. Long time no see, huh?” The girl smiled at her friend that now towered over her. A few years ago, they were still of the same stature, but too much time had passed since then. She went in for a hug, and Paul cut it short – worried she might note his burning temperature. “Is Sam home?”

“Uh, yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, turning towards the kitchen. “Sam! (Y/N)’s here.”

The older male appeared in front of them, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Hey, (Y/N). Good to see you’re doing better. What brings you around?”

“I just wanted to thank you both for what you did in my room. Mom told me you worked on it while we were away. It’s a dream.” Sam smiled at his younger sister and shared a hug with the smaller girl.

“I’m glad you liked it, (Y/N). We wanted to give you a place where you could rest better after the accident. It’s the least we could do.” The alpha could hear the duo that was left in the kitchen had grown curious about who was at the door. “Do you want to come in for a bit?”

“Are you really inviting me in?” (Y/N) was taken aback – the last thing she thought was that she would get that invitation.

“Yeah, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Sam responded, keeping his doubts of the encounter to himself.

(Y/N) walked through the threshold and instantly felt the warm aura that emanated from inside of the house. It was a welcoming environment that she had grown to love from her own mother’s house. She walked behind Sam, Paul following behind them. `There was nothing that could prepare her to the sight she was met with.

In front of her stood a beautiful woman. She had tan skin, long black hair, and a beautiful smile. But there was something that stood out to her, something she was sure stood out to everyone – three long gashes ran through the front of her face. Yet, they didn’t distract from the alluring atmosphere that surrounded her. Sam moved to her side, and (Y/N) quickly connected the dots and figured that was Emily Young. The Uley girl wanted to be indifferent to her presence, knowing how one of her friends had been hurt by the union in front of her, she couldn’t help but note the love that radiated from the pair. It had been a long time since she had seen her brother as happy as he looked as he stared at his fiancé.

“(Y/N), it’s an honor to finally meet you.” Emily stretched out her hand towards the girl, which (Y/N) gladly took. “Sam has told me so much about you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” (Y/N) joked. “Hopefully, we’ll have a chance to get to know each other more. I’d love to get to know the woman my brother is set to marry.”

“I’m sure we’ll have enough time now that you’re back.” Emily smiled and grabbed a basket filled with muffins, offering them to the girl. (Y/N) gladly took the baked good in her hand, picking at it and placing the piece in her mouth – a wonderful taste that quickly melted in her mouth. “You’re welcome over any time. Any family of Sam is family to me.”

“Thank you, Emily. I’ll be sure to take you up on that.”

Not much time passed before Sam had cut the meeting short, claiming there was something important the duo had to do. “We should do this another time, (Y/N). Paul and I have to go.”

“Go where?” (Y/N) questioned. “It’s already night, not much to do.”

“I can’t really tell you, sis. But it’s important.”

“So still guarding secrets?” Sam shrugged. “It’s fine, Sam. I’m growing used to it.”

“(Y/N)…”

“I can take a hint, Sam. I know when I’m not wanted,” (Y/N) smiled. “Thank you for the muffins, Emily. They were divine. I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer and visit sometime soon.”

“Of course, (Y/N). I’m sorry we had to cut this short.”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you guys.” (Y/N) took her bag and exited the house. She was confused on why Sam had welcomed her in only to have her leave soon after – there was something big he was hiding, and she needed to find out what it was.

“(Y/N), wait up!” Paul jogged up to her, turning her around. “Look, I hope you understand that we’re not trying to push you away on purpose. There are things that Sam is protecting you from.”

“Like what, Paul? What danger could possibly be surrounding us that he would stray from his family?”

“I’m sorry, but it’s not my place to tell you, (Y/N). As much as I hate keeping this from you, Sam would not allow it to come from anyone but himself.”

“Are you serious? What kind of power does he have over you?”

“PAUL!” Sam shouted, gaining the attention of his beta. “Let’s go.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I hope one day you’ll forgive us.” Paul kissed her forehead and went to meet up with his alpha.

(Y/N) stood still as she watched their bodies disappear into the woods. She debated whether to follow them for a brief second, but she was exhausted. She left back home with a million questions running through her head. The pair of Sam and Paul was a strange view, and she was determined to get to the bottom of things.

When she got home, (Y/N) noticed her mother asleep on the couch, the tv in front of her still playing. The years that passed were clear on her face, the worry that she carried for both her children plastered in the lines of her face. She could see the exhaustion that she held, years of caring for two kids by herself taking a toll on her. (Y/N) grabbed a blanket and laid it on top of her mother’s body, making sure that she was warm during the night. She left a kiss on her cheek, thankful for everything her mother had sacrificed for her.

After showering the day off, (Y/N) changed into her pajamas and laid in bed staring at her phone’s screen. She thought if she stared at it long enough a message would magically pop up. Minutes passed and her phone kept silent, not a single notification appearing on the screen. She scrolled through her directory until it landed on the newest listing. Carlisle Cullen, it read. Her finger clicked on it and selected new message.

Her fingers danced atop the keyboard of her phone, no words coming to her mind to send to the doctor. Should she even send him a message? What if he truly was married? She would never want to come between a couple. But her fingers did not follow her thought train. Unconsciously, they started typing away a message and before she could analyze her actions, she sent the message.

Hi, Carlisle. It’s (Y/N). I made it home okay and don’t have any symptoms, seems like you fixed me up! Anyways, wanted to know if you possibly had some free time this weekend to join me for some dinner at La Bella Italia. Hope you had a good rest of the day at work!

Her jaw fell when her screen read message sent. There was no way to delete it now. It was out there, and it would make its way to his phone. (Y/N)’s head fell onto her pillow and muffled a scream that escaped from her throat. This feeling was alien to her, and she was learning what steps to take to grow closer to the astonishing man. Minutes felt like an eternity to (Y/N), thinking that she had imploded the friendship she had built with the man over the past week.

Beep.

The sound from her phone caught her attention. She scrambled for her phone and quietly shrieked at the words on her screen.

Hello, (Y/N). I’m glad you’re feeling better, hopefully, no symptoms will arise once more. And I did have a good day at work, although I missed our afternoon book chats. I have a free day on Sunday. Tell me a time and I can meet you in Port Angeles. Hope that day is good for you.

“He said yes. If he were actually married, he wouldn’t have said yes,” she thought.

So, she typed back.

I’m glad you had a good day, and the book chats have an easy fix. I’m just a phone call away. As for Sunday, it’s a perfect day. I think around 5:30 would be a good time for dinner. Let me know if it works.

Sent.

Seconds later, another beep.

I’ll make sure to schedule those calls then. 5:30 sounds perfect. I’ll see you there. Have a good night, (Y/N).

See you then, Carlisle. Good night. 😊

(Y/N) smiled at her phone, joy wanting to burst from her body. She was reveling in this new feeling and the happiness it brought her. If it was Carlisle, it was worth it, she believed.

That night she went to sleep with the biggest smile she had experienced in her life. Unbeknownst to the life-changing moments that were to follow this meeting.

Tag List: @daniallh @catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @imaginetwilight2704 @jessicas-undrground @hey-you-therexo @mauvette268 @mxyee @beefwhobarksandisalilmadalot

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Fixed: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 4 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 3: Love So Soft

Main Masterlist

A/N: It’s shorter than my usual updates but I’m busy so sorry for the delay. My final exam dates have come and all I can do is pray right now lol. Please pray for me if you can, this sis is out here writing fanfics for yall instead of studying so, haha. ANyways, enjoy babies! Shit happens in this chapter.

Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Word count: 5K

Chapter 4: Fixed

You didn’t sleep that night. Or the next few. Your hands shook every time you got a flashback and even though you were numb to emotions that entire day, tears threatened to spill whenever your mind took to you to that overpriced kitchen again.

Now that he had gone to a dangerous and unnerved assaulter from a Dad trying to take care of his daughter, your mind wouldn’t put anything past him. You knew that in the back of your mind that he was a mobster and your ‘friendship’ was alarming to say the least, but now there was no denying his resources and power and the very obvious threat to your life lingering in the air.

At least before you had the luxury to be oblivious and ignorant, not anymore though. Steve felt even more unhinged and liberal now, even messaging you daily, greeting texts that you obviously ignored. He knew you both were aware that you never handed him your number and he felt no need to hide his pursuit.

You read most of the messages, not bothering with a single reply though. You tried to block him but somehow your phone would still receive messages from his number, even though his contact would always peek back at you from the otherwise empty blacklist.

As if his torment wasn’t ample, another message thread from a different number would forward you alarming images, photos of Grace in her daycare, on a class trip to the park and even her playing in your backyard. You had no doubt that this was another game of his to show you his resources.

You skipped daycare for a few days, your mental health worse than it was after the carnival attack, because now you had a personal tormentor and you cursed yourself for falling into this mess. At times, you believed it wasn’t your fault really, you just helped a kid and this situation spiraled itself but what would pointing fingers now get you? The harsh truth was you were in a calamitous situation now and every step from now on had to be thought out.

So, you let Grace attend her daycare and acted if nothing was amiss or altered, after the few initial breakdown days of course, kept going to your job and earning the bread. You considered your options, you really wanted to go to the cops or a higher fair power but those were few these days, almost non existent in your city. You also vaguely recalled meeting three of the Captains of the PD at Sarah’s birthday, all smiley and doe eyed for Steve. You knew they wouldn’t help, fucking kiss-asses.

Maybe you would have to move somewhere else, perhaps to your hometown, at least till things cooled down or better yet were forgotten? But that trail was very predictable and you didn’t want your parents in this mess.  

You also came to know that Steve had inserted himself in the other spheres of your life. You were sure your location was always being sent to him, the knowledge a courtesy of the black car following you while you travelled to home at some late day’s end.

Aiden told you whereabouts were easy to track, when you inquired ambiguously. Another instance was when you went to the bank to deposit cash for your debit card, you came face to face with an enormous amount already there. Somehow, the limit on your credit card was also extended. How, you knew. The clerk told you about an email you must have gotten in regards to it, you dismissed that justification away and told them to not accept the cash. To sum the discussion, they weren’t helpful and had no policy against anonymous donors.

Aiden, your trusted coworker cum pal, sensed the shift in your aura and fidgety form very easily, pestering you with questions and you decided to turn to him, stressed and tired and ready to do something. His questioning eyebrows made you confess vaguely but you refused to tell him the extent of it. Just that his prediction came true and you needed help. Let’s just say, Aiden was a good man.

With time, Steve’s ‘affectionate’ messages became deranged, and you found it harder to act nonchalant in your daily life. You were thankful he didn’t come to visit you, possibly occupied with the rumored war between the mobs. You just prayed for a few more days of ignorance, just enough time to think and do something.

“What do you mean someone collected her?!” You had a hard time controlling your voice, you were about to burst, in tears or with anger, you didn’t know.

“The man was verified in the emergency contacts and we got a letter signed and approved by you to skip the day an hour into the first activity.”

“A man? Emergen-, wait no! What fucking approved letter?”

You had three emergency contacts, your mom in another state, Aiden, and one of the other kid’s mom you had grown close to. Aiden was with you at work all day, so did someone disguise themselves as him? And what was the deal with the letter signed by you? You surely didn’t remember writing and authorizing one.

The boy, Pietro, who had been the receptionist for as long as you could remember, shuffled through the chaotic piles of paper and presented a letter to you, and your blood froze as your eyes skimmed the font.

Your beautiful cursive stared right back at you and you knew that no one would ever be able to distinguish between this penmanship and the one in the pocketbook in your clutch. No one but you. Even though you knew you had not written it, the slightly different ‘f’ and ‘g’ told you everything.

Your signature at the bottom though, was done quite perfectly and that made you even more scared.

“I did-, I didn’t write this! What the-” Your widened eyes met Pietro’s from above the paper but all he offered you was a meek smile. Your hands shook with rage and for the first time in your life, you had the urge to slap someone really bad.

“Maybe your family had an emergency to take he-”

“No, you don’t get it!” You stopped yourself from getting frantic, willing yourself to take deep breaths and think rationally. Today of all days, things had to mess up.

He didn’t know you had no family in this city, that you had a mobster after you or the subtle threats that his hired spy sent to you.

Was going to the police an option? Aiden already told you that the cops were as good as Steve’s men. But this was about your missing kid! You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to her. And you were giving Steve way too much credit, what if he wasn’t behind this all? Come to think of it, what if the other number wasn’t his?

Relax yourself! Thinking of disturbing theories wouldn’t help anyone. You thought you should go to the cops, just in case. No mentioning of Steve, just a woman with a ‘missing child’ report.

‘Missing Child’ left an acrid taste behind and you were too close to a breakdown, but your whole journey of single-parenthood taught you to kick vulnerability aside, well most of the times.

You turned and were about to leave, but Pietro stopped you. “If you are going to the cops Ma’am, they require 8 hours of inactivity or disappearance time for kids under 5.”

Well look who just read your mind.

You huffed and kept the tears at bay, your mind thinking of what to do then? Grace was obviously taken-

“How could you let a toddler leave without informing the parents?” You knew your anger was channeling out at the wrong man but didn’t he all but hand Grace to the stranger?

You beat him answering and inquired, “What did the man look like? Do you have any footage? Anything?” The wrinkles in your forehead and stress creases on your face paired with the eyebags betrayed your age surely. You were sure you had aged more this week than an entire decade, juggling your normal life with the hovering threat.

“You shouldn’t be this worried Ma’am.”

The fucking audacity.

“Your daughter recognized him, she all but ran to him and this other little girl he came with. You should maybe ask your parent-friends around? A blonde family perhaps?”

As all the emotions drained from your face and terror took over, the young lad in front of you looked smug. You wondered as if you imagined the faintest of smirks on his face.

You crumpled the letter in your hands, seething with rage as you stepped in your car. Oh, you were mad, more wrathful than ever. You could take any hits on you, any threat but not on Grace, never on her.

You were stupid, you had already decided you wouldn’t put anything past him but unknowingly, you did put this past him. You thought this man had a shred of decency to not use your kid in this adult war, being a parent himself and all but what a surprise! You were wrong.

You drove to your home, your thoughts a mix of trepidation, anxiety and fury. You were scared of him and his reach and resources but if he put Grace in any type of danger; whether to teach you a lesson or use her as bait or both, there’d be consequences.

Lord knows you killed a man a month ago Grace was threatened.

You had one thing to do before contacting Steve about Grace but you never got to do it because unexpectedly the bastard was in your home. In your home.

The black sports car outside was a huge giveaway but your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the door with your house key. The banter and giggles from inside alarmed yet calmed you; the dread of confrontation and the assurance of Grace’s safety reigned your mind.

As the door opened painfully slow like a horror movie, the sight that met your eyes made you sick with a feeling of failure. It wasn’t gore or blood or grunge, it was Steve bouncing Grace in the air and catching her while Sarah twirled around in the living room.  

This man was craftier than you thought, every action of his was calculated, each a refined step. You had been so preoccupied to avoid direct encounters with him in your little family’s life that you didn’t think he had other ways. He was always looming around with Sarah and as Grace began to trust Sarah, she consequently began to trust her blonde guardian too.

As you slammed the door behind you, Steve’s eyes snapped to yours and his smirk made you want to punch him so hard. The smugness on his face while he let Grace down without breaking eye contact told you he had no regret, no remorse. In fact, he was loving every second of this cat and mouse chase between you two.

You were a millimeter close to losing your shit, the only check being the kids in the room. But you were mad and he was going to know it.

“What the hell, Steve? Messing with my kid?” You threw your clutch onto the couch, Steve haughty by the reception of his sent message but still holding back because of the kids. He called Wanda and you didn’t really notice where she came from but you did register Steve asking to take the girls to the park for a ‘private discussion’.

As Grace passed by you, you grabbed her arm lightly, making her look at you with doe eyes resembling yours. You gave her a smile trying to ease her, but you knew she was smart enough to sense the change in the atmosphere.

Apparently, the whining Sarah wasn’t.

You looked back to Steve, your hold still on Grace and continued with a frown and raised eyebrows, “She isn’t going anywhere, not out of my sight and obviously not with you or your goons.”

Wanda had the audacity to look offended and you scoffed at her, eyes staring Steve’s down.

“Honey, I don’t think the kids should hear what I think you have to say right now.” He said nodding to Wanda to take Grace.

“You must be deranged to think I trust Grace near anyone even remotely related to you! Take your people and get out.” You held your hand up to stop Wanda and pointed towards the door with the most menacing glare you could form.

Grace looked incomprehensibly between you two, concern and confusion on her face. That might have been the first time such a tone was used in your household. The grumbling Sarah was close to throwing a tantrum, irritated by the change in the playful air or the lack of attention to her, you didn’t know. She was hanging on Wanda’s forearm, her feet slipping on your printed rug. Wanda was trying to not look hurt still by your previous statement, distracting herself by the blonde kid and you were baffled by her obliviousness to all this.

Steve, the beefy blonde Lucifer, was furious and seething. His white knuckles and ticking jaw were the most obvious giveaways, the fingers just itching to beat the shit out of someone no doubt.

Was he imagining striking you into compliance into his weird playhouse game complex? You wouldn’t be surprised given the extent of his attempt to ‘win’ you over.

The ‘get out’ tone and blatant disrespect was a bruise to his ego for sure, and by you, a middle-class woman nonetheless was a worse injury. Steve was the deadly boss to armored men in the vicinity, the kids’ father figure, according to him, and Wanda’s stern yet kind employer.

People had been killed for less and there you were, standing in all your glory, being the only person alive to reject Steve Rogers and now, the only to raise your voice at him.

You almost scoffed at his impudence to look offended, what did he expect? For you to submit to him after the stunt he pulled? His reach was scary he proved today and that any future with him in your life in any way, was a fearsome possibility to entertain but you’d be damned if you went down without a fight.  

“You can’t make me leave; we both know. You don’t have the physical edge nor the mental one. I have no problem drawing out G-U-N-S in front of the kids or to throw the warnings around, although I would prefer not to.”

Your free hand itched to slap him, like how his did minutes ago. It wasn’t a mankind problem about men thinking they were entitled to everything; it was a Steve Rogers’s problem. Of course, with him consent didn’t matter. If he had a ‘housewife, kids and fences’ fixation, he’d make it come true.

“Do you even listen to what I say? Or your own words even? Please, go ahead! Traumatise my kid and also yours in your wooing process! Why are you so obsessed? Leave us alone, you freak! I just ignored few messages!” You had a hard time maintaining your cool, if there was any left. You were sure you were scaring Grace and no matter what happened next, you knew she was already traumatized by this entire ordeal already. You were so sorry, so, so, so sorry to your poor baby caught in this mess.

You knew, no, you hoped, he wouldn’t pull out the gun, his actions at the carnival a proof, you remembered how he hid his gun on finding Sarah. That threat was empty but the next one wasn’t, his words making you freeze in your spot.

“I think you keep on misunderstanding me, sweetheart. I don’t make empty promises,”

Posh word for threats.

“For starters, maybe I should pay my future in-laws a visit in their blue duplex. They might need help with the vast garden they have, it is the season for ‘violets’, isn’t it?”

As you froze with your parents being brought up, he also cooled, albeit differently, smirking once again gaining the upper hand, not that he lost it if you were being honest.

“Isn’t threatening my kid enough for you, Steve?” You hated how your loud voice almost broke, your anger slowly subsiding into helplessness and you hated that. You hated his guts, his entitlement, his claim; everything about him.

“You still don’t see it, do you? Our family of four is the most important thing to me right now and I’m not above doing anything to save it.”

“There is no family of four Steve! I keep explaining and you keep coming back to square one with all this bullshit!” The curse word did tick Steve off but he would correct that later, when bigger things weren’t at ploy.

“Your ignorance makes me a little mad sometimes sweetheart and that is why I have to do all I do. You haven’t realized we need each other yet, but I’m staying until you do and even after that, I promise. You know how much it pissed me off to see your tickets and the packed suitcases after I’ve been nothing but nice? I was so generous to spoil you with my riches but instead I find that in your finances.”

This fucker knew. Of course, he did!

You were wondering in the back of your head what had prompted this visit with so many threats and warnings and anguish. He was pissed even before you ‘acted out’, he tracked the tickets and the plan and that meant he even tracked-

“You have so much to learn, but luckily you interact with quite a few people. I am most tempted to start out with this Aiden guy, trying to be the hero and giving you all the ideas. Maybe I should visit him?” Steve wondered out loud, and you flinched at his suggestion, hating how you were trapped by this man.

You couldn’t live with yourself if anyone got hurt because of you, be it your parents or Aiden or any other possibility Steve would come up with. Of course, Grace was your peak priority but you doubted he would hurt her as he threatened to harm them.

“Steve, please.” The fire was almost out, your hands trembling, Grace worried and Steve smug.

“Let the kids go and I think we can come to a conclusion.”

“Steve this needs to stop.” You said, your breaths heavy and helplessness clawing away at you.

“I won’t repeat myself.” He voiced out with a threatening edge, gesturing to Grace and Wanda, clearly telling you to first get the kids out.

For a deranged fucktard, he sure cared about the kids a lot.

You loosened your hold on Grace, patting her arm softly and nudged her to Wanda. Wanda received her little hand and enticed the kids with the promise of ice-cream. Sarah clapped her hands and as the trio left, Grace did look over her shoulders at you in concern and for permission, majorly in concern though. You nodded and waved, a tear dropping as soon as the door clicked shut.

You were still staring at the door, not wanting to meet Steve’s stormy blue orbs when he began, “Today was a slip up that I won’t tolerate again. Neither the cursing nor the dramatics.”

We aren’t in a fucking play, what the fuck is he labelling as dramatics?

Your eyes slowly flickered to his, and you had a hard time not letting the tears escape except the one traitorous one earlier. The fatigue, the worry of Grace’s disappearance, the threats to your friends and family were all catching up to you. It took all in you to stay strong and not fall down right now.

“Steve this isn’t funny anymore. It’s sick and you know it! I just said no! Was that so inexcusable that you had to follow up with this? You have violated me for that, broken into my home and now kidnapped my daughter! At what extent will you stop?” You broke down finally, arms a flailing mess as fat tears rolled down. Nothing scared more than the helplessness this moment. He won and he knew it. The carnival incident was nothing in comparison to this. The only good thing you could hope in all this was a safe Grace but that too only if you complied, which seemed like what you would do now given your attempts at fighting back and scampering have failed laughably.

“Gosh, I forgot how theatrical women are. You are smart darling; you know what I want from day one, just a happy family. Nothing that horrendous has happened and especially not as badly as put it. I’m just looking out for you and me in the long run.” Steve slowly treaded towards you, his hand extended to pat your arm comfortingly but you involuntarily flinched at contact and stepped back. Steve clearly didn’t like that as he caught your arm in a bruising grip and jerked you towards him. Manhandling you as your wet hands rushed to ease his grip was not a tough task for Steve, a surprise to none.

“Stop trembling like I’ve actually done something to harm you!”

Steve clearly didn’t know how to comfort women and it showed.

You stopped with the cowering away, even though it disgusted you to be this much in close proximity with your assaulter. He clearly had anger issues and no clue how to solve them. You needed to steer the conversation right and get him out. You could see your hands visibly shake as you put them on his chest, just to create some distance and in a way of surrendering to not fight. The tears slowed but you don’t think they stopped; it was hard to tell with a million other things on your mind.

As your eyes made contact, Steve loosened his grip, clearly a bit satisfied by your submission, as he began counting to help you breathe. As much as you hated to admit, it helped you and you got a flashback to the time when you freaked out on him about Grace at that extravagant dinner date. That was a sweet gesture then, not so sweet now. Funny how drastically things change with time.

It wasn’t so much Steve’s help as it was your own mind telling you to be fucking smart about the whole ordeal right now.

“Good. Better. Now let’s talk. Why were you planning to run away? I’ve been busy and coming home to find out that wasn’t joyful, you know.” His smile suggested a better mood than before but his voice, his husky voice always had this daring edge that almost challenged you to defy him but at the same time warned you of unpleasant consequences if you did.

“Steve, I’m scared.” You spoke with utmost honesty. “The part of the world you associate yourself with scares me. You can’t blame me for not wanting that life for Grace, I mean you have a kid of your own. Wasn’t the carnival attack specifically on Sarah?”

The reasoning was right but you knew you triggered him the moment his smile evaporated. He either felt insulted as a parent or disrespected in his profession or probably both.

He was fighting his inner demons already and you pointing it out was a slap to his face, a hit he didn’t want to take.

“That was a slip up, I admit. Never again. I’m only human, okay?” He convinced himself and you, his grip tightening a bit again.

Oh no, not the right direction to take.

You reckoned he still had nightmares about it like you, he really did love Sarah a lot, all things aside.

“Besides, I am looking out for you! Out for you and Grace and Sarah. I remember my promise of never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

You definitely didn’t trust his security or his people because what sort of a mobster let his daughter get targeted and possibly abducted? You definitely didn’t know the whole story or if it was just a bad day but he wasn’t a person that deserved some slack. Despite all this, you knew what all he held above you, above a common man. He might not be ‘Kingpin’ skilled but a threat to you nonetheless.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Is that what you call following me around, huh?” which you immediately regretted.

“Trust the process, baby. Everything is just to protect you.”

Is that what he called stalking even Grace around and twistedly enough, sending you proof of that? The anonymous thread of photos was another nightmare of yours, thanks to him. The last being a candid photo inside Grace’s room, her sleeping in her bed this morning and that’s when you decided you needed to get out. Of course, that didn’t go as planned.

“How am I supposed to do that when you have cameras in my house?!” You scoffed and he reeled back at the accusation, having the nerve to look impressed at being uncovered and caught red-handed.

“Oh my fucking God, it was you! You sick pervert!” You jumped out of his grip, your eyes wide and horrified. “I wasn’t aware of what to make of it but of course, it was you! Who else would be sick enough to do that?” You let out a humorless chuckle. You always put things past him even when you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. When will you ever learn huh?  

You were full on panicking yet again, this man was an assaulter, a stalker and a creep too. It would have made a good dark, psychological thriller for you to watch if you weren’t the protagonist about to suffer his obsession.

He reached out to steady you again, but you whipped and stumbled back, realizing too late that you elbowed Steve’s nose so bad that there was a crunch. That, right there, was the look a man real-fucking-furious on Steve’s face and now you could see the feared mobster, the man who was personally terrorizing you under the beautiful, Greek God façade.

Steve reacted so fast even with an injury that in a split second, your view of his face turned into a view of his crotch.

“You do realize that there are others ways for me to teach you obedience? I think it’s fucking time you show me your gratitude for my care and attention and apologize for your misconduct and unkind response.” Steve spoke with a hoarse voice, a voice running out of patience and just about done with defiance.

His hand fisted your hair, maintaining eye contact while he nodded between you and his crotch. You knew what he wanted, what he was expecting as ‘thanks’.

“Steve, please no, you don’t-”

His other hand grabbed your jaw, stopping you from speaking as he warned, “I think you have done just enough talking for today, so why don’t you put that tongue to a better use and show me how sorry you are. Better make it convincing because I’d hate to pay one of your friends a visit and then bitch about a nasty blowjob.” He smirked at the end of his monologue, eyes shining with triumph and amusement.

You wouldn’t let him harm anyone else, you couldn’t. You and your daughter were already knee-deep in a pit and at this point, it’d just be cruel to drag someone else in. With shaky hands opening his pants, you just hoped you could get Grace out before you eventually were buried in it.

“Now that’s a good girl. Submissive is a sexy look on you.” His hands patted your hair, playing with your tresses while yours pulled his pants and then briefs down.

His member jerked out, almost slapping you in the face as you recoiled at his insolence to get hard and erect at your torment. Your disdain must have shown which he took as admiration and derision to take his affluent cock in.

“No need to get shy, I have faith you’ll be able take it just as well in your pretty pussy as you will right now. Open up-”

“Steve, I beg you-”

Just as you had cut him off, he interrupted your pleading. Your gag reflex was probably the most efficient in the world but that turned this narcissist on. It had been years since you had done it, never with a man as beefy as Steve.

His taste was salty and if you had to put it into better words, it was the like overpriced sea salt flakes that you never bought. High and pricey and for the entitled.

Your hands clutched at his thighs as you blacked out multiple times; your jaw aching, uvula swaying and tears escaping. Him forcing himself on you brough a new sense of vulnerability as your body trembled. Steve relished like a sadist, practically rutting into you all by himself as you just sat there with your jaw unnaturally open.

His obscene moans and groans were crass and nauseating and you just prayed for this to be over soon and for no one to walk in on this, especially your kid.

It seemed like it would never end, your body dehydrating with all the spit it produced, the drool dribbling and landing just beside your knees on your printed rug. You would have to throw that out.

The tears stooped after some point, the sobbing an unnecessary action that just tired you out more on this eventful day. You moved your tongue around to prevent your teeth from scratching him when he shifted angles. If this was what he did on slightly mad, you didn’t want to find what he did for a more serious punishment.

Apparently, that action was something that turned him on even more, his breath hitching as neared closure. In broken whispers he demanded that again and you complied, wanting to get done with it.

He growled in the moment of his release and you tried to lean back but his grip didn’t relent. “Swallow.” His grainy, exasperated voice said out loud and you knew better than to defy.

He released you and you fell on to the rug, hip bruising by knocking into some furniture and tears coming back again after being hydrated by his seed. He packed himself, his smile smug and content as his expressions truly resembled ecstasy being personified.

“You be a good fiancée from now on and maybe you’ll have all your friends alive and present at our wedding. No cheeky business from now on, got it?” Steve hummed then and strutted out, not even bothering to listen to your reply.

As soon as the door slammed, your eyes closed and your demons danced again.

There was no right direction to take when you were stuck in a loop.  

[drspencerweed]

Dear Spence - Night 5

spencer reid x fem!reader

series masterlist

masterlist

fic summary: Going undercover as serial killer bait was simple. Going undercover as serial killer bait three months after being kidnapped was not so simple. Going undercover with the love of my life and having to pretend to be in love with him while also pretending I was pretending was….well it was about as complicated as it sounds.

chapter summary: Avoidance only ever lasts so long.

chapter word count: 2.3k

content: Rated M (16+) fem!reader, mentions of past kidnapping, trauma responses, nightmares, descriptions of past kidnapping, canon-typical violence, fake relationship, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, only one bed trope

tw for this chapter: minor allusions to past trauma

read on ao3

[Prologue] [Night 1] [Night 2] [Night 3] [Night 4]

I quickly slipped into the bathroom, as soon as he said he was going to start getting ready for bed. Having spent the entire day in bed playing sick, stepping into the hot shower really calmed my nerves. I kept my eyes on the note balancing on the sink. Not that it mattered anymore where it was. Spencer’s memory meant as soon as he had read the letter, he could go over it as many more times as he wanted. It didn’t matter, I was comforted as long as I could see where it was.

I knew it was only a matter of time before he figured out what I meant, before he understood the true meaning of the letter. And as soon as that happened I knew it would mean the end of us. There were two reasons I pretended to be sick, really. The first was obvious: I couldn’t bear his fake affection right after he read my letter. Even if he didn’t understand it- it was too painful. The second reason was that I knew being sick would distract him enough, and maybe stop him from ruminating on the letter.

It was just postponing the inevitable, I know. But I couldn’t help it.

The water ran down my body and I let my eyes fall shut for a moment, running my hands through my hair to rinse out the shampoo. In an instant I was back there, bent over the desk with a gun to my neck, shakily writing out my last words. “You’d do anything to see him again? You sure about that, sweetheart?” My eyes jumped open and I took a few deep breaths, blinking the memories away.

I finished the rest of my shower quickly, hopping out and avoiding looking at myself in the mirror. When I stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Spencer was in his pajamas, sitting at the edge of the bed, in the same position he had been in when I found him with the letter. He was staring at his hands, and his eyebrow was furrowed the way it always does when he’s thinking too hard. I didn’t dare speak, or move, scared of what he was going to say.

“I’m just. I’m trying to understand why you would choose to write that whole letter, and then refuse to even tell me what it’s about,” He finally said, looking down at his hands the entire time. His eyes only met mine briefly at the end of the statement, as if he wasn’t brave enough to look me in the eye.

I just shook my head slightly, trying not to let my eyes well up. Clutching my clothes closer to my chest, I let my fingers wiggle into them and find the edge of the letter. “It’s not important.” I repeated what I had told him last night.

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Obviously that’s not true. You were ready to let it be your final words.”

He was right, of course. I didn’t have an argument for him, so I stayed silent. He finally looked up to me, his face almost desperate. “I can’t make sense of it. If-If you explain it, I’ll try to understand, I promise, but I can’t handle you lying to me.”

My throat felt thick when I tried to swallow my feelings. “I-I’m sorry. I just-” I stopped, trying to gather myself, trying to figure out how to word this without giving myself away. “I wanted you to know if I died. And I didn’t die. So now you don’t need to know.” I settled on, averting my eyes and finally moving to put away my clothes.

He saw right through me, and I knew he would. “C’mon [Y/N], that’s not— that’s not fair. That doesn’t make sense. You know that.” He turned around to face me when I climbed into bed.

“Well maybe it doesn’t have to make sense.” I bit back.

“You-You addressed your last words to me. And I can’t-this will eat me alive if I can’t make it make sense,” he admitted. When I looked at him, the bitterness I had begun to feel melted away. He looked torn up, so broken at the idea he wouldn’t know what I was trying to tell him in that letter.

The blaring ringtone of Spencer’s phone cut through the tension in the room.

“Dr. Reid. Yea- one second.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and put it on speaker. “You’ve got us both.”

I stared resolutely at the bedspread, picking at a loose thread and trying to gather my thoughts.

“Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, how lovely!” Derek’s voice filtered through the phone. I couldn’t help but to smile and roll my eyes, despite the guilt that felt like it might eat me alive. Spencer’s voice might not have let on how he was feeling, but his eyes and frown still reflected how our conflict was affecting him. All I wanted was to avoid giving him the chance to hurt me, and now I was the one hurting him. “I’m calling with some news. We think that our unsub might be peeping on the victims on top of listening to their in-home devices.”

“What made you come to that conclusion?” I asked, brow furrowing. I had to push aside the guilt that was clawing at my throat and focus on the case. That was something I knew how to do.

“You guys did! We think your theory about him being a voyeur is correct, but we think that means he probably has been trying his old peeping ways and when it doesn’t work that’s what causes the escalation to murder.” Derek explained. My eyes drifted to the window of our bedroom, catching on every car I could see from there. What if he was out there right now?

“Do you think we’ve had our cover blown?” Spencer asked.

“No, there’s been a surveillance van on your street from the day you moved in, and there’s been no consistent activity. But we found footprints in the dirt outside a back window of the Randall’s house.” They were the most recent victims, I remembered. My hands shook at the thought of someone glancing through our windows. “No one noticed the first time they went to the scene because the window itself was untouched so they didn’t think to look. He came in through a different route, but the window had a good view of their bed.”

I pondered this in my head. “Do we think the first murders were from rage and subsequently he’s been planning them?” I offered. “None of the crimes have seemed particularly impulsive.”

“We’re thinking there may be one we haven’t connected to him yet, that might have signs of his evolution. But you’re right, Pretty Girl, we’re thinking that he tried to get his rocks off using his usual methods and his first murders were probably done in a fit of rage. Garcia’s digging into all the double homicides in the tri-state area.” Derek informed us. Spencer and I both nodded, taking in the information.

“Does this mean anything needs to change about our cover?” I asked. I was already struggling to look Spencer in the eye, I couldn’t lose our one place of solace away from the pretending. I’d go insane.

“It just means you’ll have to keep the curtains in the bedroom closed. We don’t have any evidence he was watching them for very long, and if he can’t get a look he might strike sooner.” Derek told us. Spencer handed me the phone and was out of the bed before I could process it, pulling the blinds down and the curtains shut.

“Done and done.” I answered while Spencer moved.

“Good! Now that business is out of the way, how are you two holding up?” Derek asked. I made eye contact with Spencer before we both quickly looked away.

“We’re good. It’s not so hard to pretend to be in love with Spencer.” I chuckled, trying to give the sentence an airy tone instead of weighing it down with feeling. Spencer climbed into bed without looking at me and I swallowed tightly.

“Awwwwh, you’re gonna make him blush!” Derek laughed back. Spencer was intently tracing the pattern on the quilt, not looking at me at all.

“I’m not blushing.” He grumbled, but there was a faint tinge of red on his cheeks. I could see him warring with his frustration with me and his embarrassment over the comment.

“Sounds like he’s blushing.” Derek teased. Spencer rolled his eyes and huffed. “I’ll let the lovely couple go. Now that your curtains are closed you can really get freaky!” He announced, and with a click the room was silent again.

Spencer made no moves to turn off his light. I wiggled his phone in his eyesight. “Do you wanna put this back?” I asked.

“Thanks.” He said, voice cold and void of feeling. It was worse than before, when he was hurt. I’d rather him be upset with me than not care. My heart was shattering in my chest, thinking back to what he had told me about having feelings for someone else. His frustration and hurt was just because he was my best friend, and now I had hurt him enough that he could write me off. Just like that. He probably was already thinking about them, whoever they were, he’d probably been picturing them the whole time we’d been undercover.

I thought back to our first kiss and how perfect it was for me. How everytime he smiled at me I felt joy like no other. How his arms wrapped around my waist in the kitchen or in bed made me feel safe and home. How his comfort and love had made me happier than I’d ever felt. How it was all fake. How he had been picturing someone else the whole time, someone I might not even know. How all of this was just a mission for him, a means to an end. How after all of this, I would lose him forever.

How despite everything, I knew I would love him endlessly.

He clicked off his lamp and shifted down in bed, clearly getting ready to go to sleep. My throat was tight with emotion, eyes red rimmed from unshed tears, but he hadn’t glanced at me since the phone call ended so he had no idea. I stared at the back of his head, trying to make a decision.

Everything was terrifying. I knew that once he realized the truth, things would never be the same. We could never pretend like I wasn’t in love with him. I might have been willing to ache and cry as his friend privately, but once he knew there was no going back. If he knew how much it hurt me to see him with someone else, he would go out of his way to avoid that happening. What kind of friend is that to have? Someone you have to walk on eggshells around, someone who you can’t share the happiest parts of your life with? A lousy one, no doubt.

Despite all of that, I agreed with myself on one thing. Spencer deserved to know how loved he was. He deserved to know that I loved him, even if that meant the destruction of me.

My eyes burned and I blinked as I looked away from him. I choked when I tried to speak again, and had to clear my throat to finally force the words out. “It’s-It’s all in there. There’s nothing I have left to say.”

In the second he took to respond, I thought he had fallen asleep. That my brave confession had fallen on deaf ears and I would have to build myself up again in the morning. But then he turned over, leaning up on one elbow to look at me properly.

“What?” He asked. My hands shook as I lifted them to my face, wiping the few tears that had slipped onto my eyelashes. As much as I wanted to tell him, it was like I couldn’t physically say the words when I knew the rejection was inevitable.

“My secret is in the letter. I was hoping you would be smart enough to figure it out.” I said weakly, trying to be funny, voice shaking and revealing too much. As soon as the sentence was out I slid down and rolled on my side to face away from him, hand reaching out to click off my bedside lamp. I couldn’t watch as the realization dawned on him, that would be too much. And I definitely didn’t need him to see the blubbering mess I was no doubt about to become when he tried to let me down easy.

He didn’t move to sleep. I shut my eyes, because the darkness of the room wasn’t enough. It felt like torture, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Finally he spoke again.

“That’s not an answer, that’s a clue.” He said, with a slight indignant whine to his voice. His tone was almost playful, so I turned a little to look at him. The coldness from before was gone. He still seemed distraught, but there was the slightest hint of a smile on his face. I betrayed myself by returning the small gesture

“Well I know you like a good mystery. And I’m sure you can figure this one out, Dr. 187.”

He narrowed his eyes at me further, but I just smiled sadly before turning to face away from him again. Sleep didn’t come easy, but eventually my eyes drifted shut, racing with anxiety over how long it would take Spencer to understand my clue.

Night 6 coming this Wednesday!

<<<<>>>>

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[mercy-burning]

Fake Fiancée - Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer write letters back and forth, both of them slowly starting to fall in deeper. Category: Smut (18+) Content Warnings: Strong language, sexual themes, masturbation (male and female), sexting, face sitting Word Count: 6.3k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hello!! Sorry this has been so long in the making, but for a while my inspiration for this story absolutely disappeared, and then I tried to think of how to bridge the previous chapters to the final one with absolutely no luck. And then I re-read Part 2 and got stuck on the letter, thus this chapter was born! I didn’t want to drag this miniseries out any longer than 4 parts, and the letter format combined with other inner monologuing and description really allowed me to do that in an interesting way that hopefully doesn’t feel rushed! 

It was so much fun and very refreshing to write. I hope you like how it turned out!

Thank you all for being so patient while I get my shit together 😅 Love you guys! Enjoy 🥰

***

We've been sending letters back and forth for about a month now.

If I'm being honest, it took me about two weeks to decide whether or not I actually wanted to send one back, but could you blame me?

Here was this guy I couldn't stop thinking about after a one-night stand, only for him to catch me—months later at the same exact bar we'd met in—flirting with his friend. And then after our sexual encounter that night, all the things we said, the connection I thought we had, all of it...

He left it all behind the next morning, only to send me a letter in the mail.

I was pissed.

Sure, it was a nice letter, but the fact that he'd reduced what we had down to a piece of paper and scribbled ink had made me angrier than I cared to admit.

In retrospect, I may have overreacted.

Over time I started re-reading his words, and the more I thought about it all, the more I started to regret my anger. And more than anything, I just wanted to see him again. I couldn't stay mad at him, not when all I could picture was his pouty face and nervous hands. His sunbeam of a smile peeked through the clouds of my anger here and there, and the longer it settled, the more it bathed me in a warm light that should have made me happy. But all it did was make me long for him.

Once I'd actually started writing that first letter back, I wondered why I hadn't jumped on the opportunity in the first place. I mean, after all the cliché shit we'd experienced in our short relationship thus far, adding love letters to the mix was just as perfect as you could get, right?

Spencer,

I'm sorry it's taken me this long to finally write you back. Truthfully I wasn't sure I wanted to write you at all, but your letter kept drawing me back in. I couldn't stop re-reading it, imagining you sitting down somewhere and contemplating every word as you wrote them down. I wondered if you'd thrown out hundreds of pieces of paper after messing up when you could have just as well typed out a letter without wasting them.

And then by that point, all I could think about was just you.

I always pictured what your living room looks like, or your kitchen table, or your office, or wherever you sit down to write. I wondered if you looked like one of those hopeless writers in the movies that have a scruffy face, coffee stains on their white tee shirts, and messy hair that hasn't been washed in days due to lack of inspiration.

But in the end, the image that won out over all the others was just you as I remember.

I'm not going to lie, that image most of the time was your body above mine while I held my hand to your throat, but for the sake of romance I guess I should probably tell you what it was every other time— the outfit you were wearing the first time we met.

When I think of you, I think of your hand nervously clutching that beer bottle for dear life and the other one occasionally pushing your glasses up your nose. I think of your eyes every time they'd look away from me, probably to keep yourself from staring too long.

But the thing that always gets me the most is your smile— even when it comes in little flashes, after you've said something you probably thought was lame. You covered it up with that perfect smile.

I've dreamt of that smile nearly every night since I met you, and I wouldn't be opposed to seeing it in person again.

I'd love to meet you for dinner some time.

But since you did manage to "more or less abandon me twice now", I think it's only fair that you make it up to me first.

Make the next letter a good one, and we'll see what happens.

Yours, Y/N

P.S. I hope my handwriting is as pretty as you hoped. I'd hate to disappoint.

***

Y/N,

I'm incredibly grateful that you've given me a chance to redeem myself. Every night since I last saw you has also been spent wondering what your house looks like on the inside... What you looked like reading my letter (perhaps at your kitchen table?)

And this might sound silly, but I've also wondered what your bedroom looks like. You may be laughing at me, because I've been in your bedroom, but in my defense I was a bit preoccupied to really take notice of my surroundings— I was simply surrounded by you.

But since I've been to your home, I figured it was only fair that I invite you to mine, possibly for dinner. I don't know how to cook much— in fact I'm pretty awful at making anything that's not a can of Spaghetti-Os... But one of my co-workers is an excellent chef, and with a recipe from him and some practice under my belt, I'm sure I can pull it off.

But by "some" practice, I mean probably weeks or months of practice. So hopefully that gives you ample time to mull it over.

Perhaps in the meantime we can get to know each other through our letters. And who's to say, it might spare us the awkward "getting to know each other" stage of a first date. Though, pretty much every stage of every date is awkward for me, so it might not help at all.

Regardless, I'm very much looking forward to hearing from you again.

I do get called away for work quite often, however. So I apologize in advance if I can't get back to you as soon as I'd like.

But in any instance, you're still welcome to text message or call me. I know it isn't as romantic or personal as handwritten letters, but it's certainly practical.

Yours, Spencer.

P.S. Your handwriting is just as beautiful as I'd imagined it would be. And you could never disappoint me.

That being said, if you somehow decide that this letter wasn't up to your standards and reject my offer, I may just find myself in the deepest despair imaginable.

***

I was definitely way too in my head about this.

It was just a text. Sure, it was a risky text to send, but I had no doubt in my mind that it would be fine in the end.

So why was my stomach churning just thinking about sending it?

Some might have chalked it up to my fat ol' crush on Spencer, but I knew it ran deeper. It had to do at least a little with my history with Patrick... The man stood me up and sent divorce papers to my place of work rather than to my face... And as much as I liked to think I was completely over it, we'd been together for years, and it really did a number on me.

I didn't want to ruin this new thing with Spencer so badly that I was overthinking everything.

So even though I could see his face opening the text, my heart doing jumps at the mere thought of it, a bigger part of me worried that it would be a step too far in the wrong direction. I didn't want him to think I was only in this for... sexual reasons. Which, don't get me wrong, have been pretty damn great so far, but I really did want to get to know him and see where this went.

In the end I decided to hold off. I settled for something a little lighter.

Spencer,

Don't feel too bad about your cooking skills. I've been through my fair share of burnt frozen pizzas to know how you're feeling. So the fact that you've given yourself the opportunity to practice and learn a recipe just for me is extremely romantic, and I appreciate the thought.

I won't stop you from following through, though I'm telling you now that no amount of slaving away in the kitchen will make me change my mind about you. We could probably eat stale crackers on the floor and I'd still find you utterly fascinating.

Maybe that's a bit too extreme, but I hope you get my point.

Anyway, I'd love to come over for dinner some time. Whenever you think you're ready to show me those improved cooking skills, you just let me know and I'll happily make my way over.

In the meantime, I'm thinking of sending more with my letters. I don't want to give away too much, but I will say that I'm very crafty. And don't feel like you need to send anything in return, though I'll let you know if I ever change my mind.

Yours,

Y/N

***

In the bottom right corner of the letter, right next to her signature, was a red lipstick stain in the shape of... well, her lips. It was common sense to know that they were hers and no one else's, not just a stamp or a drawing, and rather her actual lip stain... But even without it, I would have been able to tell by their shape.

Was that pathetic?

I could hear her, picture her in front of me, hovering above me with red-painted lips in the shape of a smirk, visibly cooing as she called me names... I could feel the ghost of her fingertips trailing up my throat and tilting my chin up to look at her as she rocked her hips teasingly into mine...

The whine I let out truly was pathetic.

You pathetic, needy little thing, I could hear her say...

My hands clutched the paper so tightly I thought I'd tear it, but it didn't matter when all I could see while staring at it was her luscious, red lips... Her voice was right there in my ear, like she was really beside me, watching me...

Oh, God, what would she do if she saw me right now? Staring at her lipstick stained paper and subconsciously grinding down into my chair...

You pathetic, needy little thing...

My hips jolted with a small, broken shout of her name, and in no time the front of my pants were flooded with warmth. I felt her eyes burning into me from the void, sparking to life with amusement as her voice crept into the deep corners of my brain and whispered praises to me.

Ohh, what a good little whore... Getting off to the thought of me... That's it, sweet boy... Come for me...

By now my eyes had squeezed shut and the letter was crumpled in my hand, the other reaching down to add much-appreciated burning friction to my crotch as I rode out my orgasm. My whole body tensed and shuddered at every sensation, from Y/N's image behind my eyes to the sweet warmth that pooled in my underwear and soaked through onto my hand.

Holy mother of—

The next time I saw her, I was screwed. I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. I'd surely go red the second I laid eyes on her, and she'd know right away what I was thinking and feeling.

Simply put, it scared and excited me at the same time.

She'd utterly and thoroughly wrecked me, and if she didn't already know it, she certainly would soon.

Y/N,

I'm not sure what you intend to send in addition to your letters, but if it's anything near the sentiment of your lip stain, then you might have to refrain in favor of my poor, fragile heart.

See, it aches for you. It's bad enough I think of you always, but the moment I saw the shape of your lips on that letter, my heart almost shot straight out of my chest. Maybe it was the familiar shape of your lips or the implications of its place next to your name, signed after the word 'yours', that sent me into a tailspin, but whatever the case...

I'm pretty sure I've completely fallen under your spell.

I suppose I should also tell you that my heart wasn't the only part of my body that came to life at your added signature. I assure you, it took no time at all for me to come undone at the thought of your lips pressing gently against the paper, imagining that they were instead pressing to my skin... I didn't even have to touch myself, really. It just happened. Because of you and you alone.

I hope that wasn't too forward, but I felt it necessary that you know just how much of an effect you have on me.

If I could see you again in a millisecond, it wouldn't be soon enough.

That being said, I am determined to spend as much time as possible to perfect this dish for our dinner. Because you deserve nothing but the best, even if you insist that you could settle for less.

It's the least I can do.

Yours, Spencer.

And a week and a half later, when I didn't get a letter back on time, I was sure I'd messed up for good.

My mind was racing a mile a minute, yelling at myself for even thinking for a second of being that detailed in a letter without any consent. Sure, she'd taken it a step up by signing off her letter with a kiss, but I'd been absolutely idiotic in telling her that I got off to it.

I was honestly well and truly prepared to show up at her house with a big bouquet of flowers and an apology so wordy and probably too long for anyone's liking, in hopes that she'd forgive me for making this huge mistake.

Thankfully, though, it wasn't needed.

My phone chimed as I was pacing, my lip near bloody with how hard I'd been chewing at it, and I saw an unknown number attached to a text message and photo attachment.

The photo wouldn't load (I would have to plug it into my laptop and transfer the image there to see it— a fact which always irked Penelope to the core), but with the sentences I saw above the file, I almost knew exactly what I'd find when I had the means to see it.

There. Now we're even... Who says text messages can't be romantic and personal? XXX, Y/N

I felt like Bambi as I scrambled to my laptop three rooms over, stumbling over weak legs with my phone clutched tightly in my hand. My heart raced faster than it ever had as I started everything up and retrieved the right cord for my phone. With a few shakes and stumbles here and there, I briefly entertained the idea of upgrading my phone.

I probably would have left the apartment to do it immediately after seeing her photo attachment, but the moment it loaded up on my screen, my brain and body lost all ability to function properly.

A familiar burn coursed through the lower half of my body and tightened my chest at the sight of her, open and exposed and... wet.

My laptop screen was completely taken over by the image of Y/N's pussy, visibly glistening and aroused. A manicured hand—her hand— was in frame as well, middle finger resting snugly between the supple skin of her wet lips.

The fact that I only tasted her once felt downright cruel.

I tried to imagine it again— my face buried between the softness of her thighs. As much as I wanted to lay her down and indulge myself as long as possible, taking all the time in the world to slowly devour her and truly explore her for myself, what ran through my mind then was something more in the vein of our dynamic thus far.

My mind wandered, specifically to a place where I was the one laying down as she sat down directly onto my face and gave me what she thought I deserved. My hands were tied to the bed, maybe handcuffed. All I knew was that I couldn't touch her, and it bothered me. So I whined, and every time the sound left my mouth, she would let up, lifting further out of reach and causing me to instinctively reach my head up to chase her.

You greedy little slut... Take what I give you...

Desperately seeking her approval, I told her I'd be good and rejoiced when she lowered herself down to me again, allowing me to me completely wrapped up in her once more. My tongue lapped and lapped, gathering as much of her as I could before she'd inevitably leave again.

But she never did.

Somehow I kept my quiet, even though it was extremely difficult, and ate her out like my life depended on it. She glided smoothly over my face, coating more than just my lips in her arousal, and it thrilled me to my very core.

Every time I breathed in I could smell her, every time she groaned out my name my stomach fluttered, and it wasn't long before she was clutching my hair, shaking above me while I drank her in and repressed my whines.

My hips were uncontrollable though, bucking up into nothing and begging for any type of stimulation.

But then suddenly it was there— Her hand, firmly wrapping around my dick and gliding over it beautifully with a slickness that she must have transferred from her pussy. I could still taste her as I cried out her name, her movements quickening with every second until—

I didn't even realize I was actually alone until my eyes opened, cum coating my hand, my heartbeat heavy and loud, and the laptop screen in front of me a shade darker signaling a long period of inactivity.

I'd done it again...

And now we most certainly were not even.

I glanced over at my phone—plugged into the laptop—and then down at my lap, and my stomach knotted as my next move rang clear as day.

***

I woke up the next morning to texts from Spencer, and my heart picked up speed, a gentle warmth blooming through my chest at the sight.

I thought maybe he'd thank me for the photo I'd sent. Maybe he'd return it with an influx of messages along the lines of Oh my god, Holy fuck I miss you, and the like.

But what I wasn't expecting was to see a photo in return, of his hand that I'd dreamt of nearly nightly, wrapped firmly around his cock and all of it completely covered in cum.

Below the photo were three messages in a row, and each one gave me more butterflies than the last.

Sorry for low quality. No smartphone.

Also sorry we're not even anymore.

But I'm not sorry I did it- you're too perfect to resist.

***

Dearest Y/N,

I'm sorry you haven't gotten a letter from me in a while. And I know we've kept in touch through texting and calling while I was swamped at work, though now that I have some time off, I'd love to write you again. As much as I enjoy our virtual conversations, I still find sending letters to be my preferred method of communication (only second to speaking with you in person, that is).

Which brings me to the main point I'm trying to make.

I want to see you again. In person. I'm not completely confident in my cooking ability yet, but if you wouldn't mind the potential of it tasting awful, I'd love to have you over. I promise you nothing but the best, and I know that's a high promise, especially considering I probably haven't sold you on the meal, but it's true.

I'd do anything to please you.

And I really do mean 'anything', I hope you understand that.

Yours, Spencer.

***

The thought of seeing him in person again after so long made my hands way shakier than I would have liked. It made no sense the longer I thought about it, because it was obvious that we liked each other, and seeing each other in person wouldn't be a problem. Because it'd never been a problem before.

It irked me.

Still, I knocked on his door and physically shook out my hands, praying I could keep my cool when he finally opened the door.

But I should have known better.

One second I was staring at a large plank of wood, and the next I was staring into frantic eyes, golden and sparkling just as I remembered, but with an added glimmer of fear that matched the shakiness of my hands.

I don't know how long we stood there, just staring at each other, but the longer we did, the more we relaxed. His fear was gone, and the shaking in my hands turned into a dull hum that longed to reach out for him.

Still, I refrained, settling on a simple, "Hey, pen pal..."

By the way he looked at me, silent as ever, I started to wonder if that was a stupid thing to lead with. So I opened my mouth to apologize, to say anything else, but he beat me to it.

"Y/N... I... H—Hi, you look... incredible."

"O—Oh, thanks... Thank you, yeah, I um... figured I should... dress up a little. I know we're not going out anywhere, but I thought it might be nice."

He doesn't need to know that, Y/N, stop talking!

I gave him a small smile and a nervous laugh in an attempt to stop myself, hating how I was so nervous around him.

Spencer didn't seem to mind, though. He let me in and closed the door behind me as I quickly glanced around his apartment. It was littered with greens and browns, books everywhere, and I'd never felt more at home.

"Is it, uh... What you expected?"

"Hmm?" I turned to meet him, his soft voice pulling me from my wandering eyes.

"My apartment."

"Oh! Yeah, it's very you... I love it."

The compliment had his cheeks turning pink, and there was nothing I wanted to do more than kiss them over and over again.

And just like that, once again we were caught just staring at each other. I didn't know what he was thinking, and honestly, I didn't know what I was thinking either. All I knew in that moment was that Spencer Reid was standing right in front of me, close enough to touch, and I wanted to give in.

I was so wrapped up in the idea of feeling him that I almost didn't hear him speak. I wouldn't have heard him at all had it not been for his lips moving.

"I'm sorry, I haven't started dinner yet..."

"That's okay," I reassured. Or, at least I tried to. Really, though, I think it sounded more like I was uninterested in what he was saying, my voice flat and lifeless as I continued to stare at him.

Suddenly we were closer, and I had to look up higher to see his face, butterflies swarming in my stomach at the way he looked down at me.

"You're sure?"

"Mhm."

"I can start it now if you're getting hungry."

Food isn't what I'm hungry for, is what I thought. I almost said it, too, because he was even closer now, his hands coming out to touch mine. If they were humming before, they were certainly blaring with life now, growing hot under his light touch. And it took everything I had not to look down, because it had been too damn long since I'd seen his hands in person, and I wanted them on me immediately.

He could tell, too. He could sense my urgency, feel the longing radiating off my presence, and I knew this because I could feel his, too. His eyes practically dared me to say what I was thinking, and so I did.

"Don't you dare."

It was hard to tell who moved in first, but it really didn't matter.

I was here, in his apartment, feeling his lips glide over mine with reckless abandon, and that's all that mattered.

His hands gripped my waist so tightly I would have thought he was trying to hold me in place, to make sure I wasn't ever going to leave his sight again. And if that was the case, I would have let him hold me there forever.

My hands, meanwhile, clutched at his hair, forcing myself closer and closer to him with every sharp tug. I reveled in the way he whined into my mouth with every little thing I did, whether it was a tug of the hair or a roll forward of the hips, or even a swipe of my tongue over his.

He was putty in my hands yet again, and just like every time before, it turned me into a fucking goner.

Being with Spencer wasn't like anything I'd ever known. And the only other thing I'd known was Patrick. He didn't want me, not really, and even though he was good to me in the beginning, it was never like this.

I didn't come over to his apartment with shaking hands. I didn't send him fucking love letters almost weekly, and I certainly didn't get kissed like this...

Spencer was drunk on me, and I wasn't any sober myself.

"That picture you sent me..." I mumbled over his lips, still keeping myself as close as I could while I got out what I needed to say. "Where did you take that?"

We kissed for a few more seconds, unable to stay apart, before he answered, his voice just as breathy and brimming with desperation as mine. "My office. Just down the hall."

I kissed him again, hard, and then pulled back to look him in the eyes. They widened when I said, "Show me."

He dragged me through the apartment on rushed legs, and I almost laughed at the urgency, only stopped by the realization that I was just as urgent. It occurred to me that perhaps my laughing at his urgency might just be a slight turn on for him, given our history with my playful degradation, but still I pulled back— Tonight felt... different.

It didn't feel like we were headed in the direction of me calling him my dirty little whore throughout the night, and it was something I was more than okay with. In fact, I welcomed it, excited to see where this new night would take us.

We ended up in his office, which remained more or less the same aesthetic as the rest of his place. In the middle sat a small desk with a laptop and some papers scattered about on it, accompanied by a tall floor lamp and a rolling desk chair.

"Where were you exactly?" I mused, gripping his hand tightly and buzzing at the way his fingers flexed against my own.

"In the chair... I pulled the photo up on my laptop."

"Right. No smartphone."

Spencer hummed in confirmation before dragging me along to the chair, and I fucking giggled as he plopped down and practically pulled me right on top of him, the chair rolling back a foot or two. I went down for a bright, messy kiss that ended with his hands clutching my ass over my skirt and my own cradling his face.

His growing bulge nudged right up into my inner thigh, and I groaned lightly in his mouth, my fingers dragging softly down his jaw and neck until I reached his shoulders.

"What were you thinking about?"

He raised his eyebrow, and I rocked my hips forward with a sly grin, hoping to get my point across. "When you were looking at my picture, in this very chair, what were you thinking about?"

Seeing his eyelids stutter and his tongue dart out at my movements sent a rush through me, and I moved my hips once more to emphasize my urgency.

"I... I thought about you... riding my face. You tied my hands..."

"Oh?" I sighed, rocking forward again and humming into his neck. "Well, that can definitely be arranged if you want it bad enough..."

"Please, Y/N, yes... Please..."

The need dripping from every syllable made it near impossible to breathe, and I was suddenly very inclined to give him everything he wanted. With or without the begging.

So I reluctantly peeled away from him and stood up on weak legs. Staring at Spencer as he sat there, leaning back in the chair with disheveled hair and obvious desire in his eyes, made it all the better when I took my panties off from under my skirt and motioned for him to come forward. "On your knees?"

I would have demanded it in any other situation, but I was feeling a bit more sweet this time around.

And he seemed grateful for it, sliding the chair back further and getting down in front of me. I reached out and played with his hair, trying my hardest to commit his beautiful face to memory. I wanted it burned there for the rest of time.

"Hands?"

Spencer offered his hands to me, and I hummed happily, doing my best to tie his hands together with a makeshift knot from my panties. It wasn't really tight or secure, but it was enough for him to whine as he set them in his lap.

He watched intently as I dropped my skirt—a bit redundant now, but I thought it'd be a nice way to get him more excited. Plus I wanted to see his face (or at lease what I could see of it while it was buried between my legs).

I stepped forward then, looking down at him with a smile while my hands reached out to comb through his hair. "You ready?"

"Uh huh."

The look in his eyes right before I came forward and hovered over his face almost made my come on the spot.

But as fun as that would have been, I was glad for the way my body held off and settled for a beautiful, burning increase of pleasure that dragged out the longer he swiped his tongue through my folds. Actually, I forgot for a moment that I was supposed to be moving, riding his face like he'd thought about.

I willed my eyes open and clutched Spencer's soft locks of hair beneath me, gently rolling my hips and grinding down further on his face.  The groan he let out not only felt good against my skin, but it sounded like pure bliss, eliciting a small whimper of my own as I tightened my grip in his hair and rocked faster.

"God, I missed having your mouth on me, baby... You're... so good..."

The longer I spoke the more breathless I became, not because the words didn't come easily, but because I truly believed them to be true.

Spencer really was so fucking good, his tongue the most delicate, divine object of the universe as it drew out every ounce of delight from my body. I may have been the one above him, calling the shots and directing him where and how to please me, but he was the one who clung to my soul like static and politely guided me towards damnation.

I wasn't even sure of my surroundings to tell you the truth. As my body tensed and took me through one of the most blinding pleasures I'd experienced in weeks, My eyes were squeezed so tightly it's like I saw the universe. All I knew was Spencer's lips sucking my clit and my hands deeply rooted in his hair as I shouted incoherently, stars swirling around behind my eyelids.

Truly, for all I knew, we could have been in space. It wouldn't have made any difference.

But eventually it came to be too much. I was reaching a limit I didn't want to get to so quickly, and so I flashed my eyes open and tried to adjust to this brand new atmosphere, unweaving my fingers through pretty brown waves of hair and stepping back to assess the situation.

What I found was the most beautiful man I'd ever known, panting like he'd just ran a marathon and yet harboring the most intense joy and desire a person could hold. He was on his knees, bound hands writhing in his lap as he awaited further instruction and licked up as much of myself on his face as he could before I stopped him.

Under normal circumstances, I would have wanted to absolutely ruin him. That adoring, desperate look in his eye would have spurred me to more devious endeavors, but all I wanted in this moment was to make sure he was satisfied. I wanted to take care of him, to let him know that I longed to make him feel as worshipped and adored as he'd made me feel.

I got down to Spencer's level, quickly removing the fabric from his wrists and hauling him to his feet, where he now towered over me, still waiting for words to address and instruct him.

Instead, I leaned up with soft hands upon his cheeks and pulled him down to meet my lips in a kiss that changed the tone entirely. It was erotic still, of course, what with my arousal infiltrating my taste buds and eliciting a soft sigh from the both of us, but our urgency manifested in sweeter ways... Softer lips, gentle touches of the face, and an exchanging of breath that was so smooth and seamless it felt like we were floating on air.

I was finding it hard to breathe again, but it wasn't an issue in the slightest. In fact, there was nowhere else I'd rather have been than right there, kissing Spencer Reid like we had all the time in the world.

When the breathlessness was a little too much to bear, we pulled away, though only leaving just enough space to breathe. Our lips stayed briefly connected while we caught up, and his hands found their way to the sides of my face. The way they practically engulfed my whole head brought a brief smile to my lips as I finally gave him the words he was looking for.

"I'm so glad I met you," I whispered.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing."

We kissed each other again, naturally and with so much ease that I wondered how I had ever lived without him.

And then, as my hands slid gently down his chest, I felt it.

Something that felt very much like a ring attached to a necklace sat right where his heartbeat resided, and I knew exactly which ring it was.

"W—" I pulled back and circled the shape of it with my finger through the shirt, then looked up at him. "Is that what I think it is?"

Spencer looked briefly panicked, pulling away a little and fishing down the front of his shirt for the chain. "Oh... Um, yeah. I, um... I forgot to take it off, I'm sorry. I..."

"You... kept it?"

I observed the diamond as it laid flat on my palm, still attached to the chain and around his neck. Honestly, after all this time I figured he'd never found it or gotten rid of it, seeing as he never brought it up. And yet there it was, glittering in the palm of my hand as my other one presses firmly against Spencer's rapidly beating heart.

"Y—Yeah... It um... It was really the only physical thing I had to remember you—Well, at least until we started sending letters... And I guess I just... W—Wearing it has become such a habit that I forgot to take it off."

"You never take it off?"

I could tell he was nervous, and rightfully so given I wasn't really letting on how I was feeling about the whole thing.

Still, he answered my short question in such a small whisper I'd have thought he was trying not to get in trouble.

"No."

"Why?"

My words certainly weren't helping ease his anxieties, so I remained close, dropping the ring and focusing rather on his eyes. I softened the look in my own and glided my hands down to hold his. His fingers flexed against mine, squeezing them for dear life as he sighed out in relief and flashed me a soft smile.

"Because... I wanted you close to my heart."

With a smile that mirrored his eyes, full of enchantment and pure adoration for the person in front of me, I didn't use my brain and instead focused on what my heart was telling me, consequences be damned.

"I think I might love you..."

Spencer squeezed my hands tighter, that relief spreading out to all his features and brightening that beautiful smile.

"Funny... I was just thinking the same thing."

Our lips met once more, and I swear it was like nothing bad was ever going to happen for the rest of time.

I'd never felt that way. Not once with Patrick did my heart feel settled into place, even during the great parts of our relationship.

And now here I was, with a man who sent me love letters and kept every physical reminder of my existence, who kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world and slowly mended my wounded heart.

He held me close the whole way to his bedroom and never let me go until the morning. Though, even then his arms outstretched towards me and his fingers flexed, needing to grab onto any part of me that he could find.

And as I was sure I always would, I welcomed him with open arms.

***

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[reidingmelodies]

His Greatest Mistake

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn! Reader Category: Angst with a dash of fluff Includes: Sad Spencer, brief mention of injury, implied emotional cheating Word Count: 1.4k (oops) A/N: This was requested by @ssa-m-187 based on the song Be My Mistake by The 1975!  Thank you so much for the request, this one was a challenge in the best way and I loved every second of writing it ♡

Masterlist | Ash’s 500 Bash

It was never supposed to be like this.  It was supposed to be him taking engagement photos with you, him sending save the dates with you, him sitting by your side and planning the wedding you had always imagined.

Instead, it was him clutching the picture he was so obviously absent from to his chest in the dim light of his apartment.

He knew something had happened the second he walked into the bullpen that morning.  The room was quiet, any and all previous conversation halting the moment he locked eyes with Penelope across the way.  

And he knew.  When her eyes shifted towards the floor and her breath stuttered in her throat he knew in his soul that it had to do with you.

But he never imagined this.

She dropped the picture into his hands with murmured words of comfort, leaving him with the promise that she would be in her office alongside a cup of coffee with his name on it if he needed to talk.

And as she walked away, he turned the picture over and felt his heart break into a thousand fragments with no hopes of ever being repaired.

The phrase ‘save the date!’ glared at Spencer from the top of the cardstock, but nothing compared to the feeling of ice in his veins at the sight of your smile.

It was a smile he hadn’t seen in person in 3 years, 4 months, and 12 days, but it still danced through the forefront of his brain each night he went to sleep and each morning he awoke next to his greatest mistake.

And as he sat in his apartment after a day of comforting glances laced with pity thrown at him from each direction he couldn’t help but relish on the what ifs.

What if he had loved you better?

What if he had fought harder?

What if he called you instead of her that night?

Loving you was the easiest and yet the most courageous thing he’d ever done.  With you, casual touches came quicker, tough conversations came easier, confessions of love flowed smoother.

Not like with her.

He had met you exactly 6 years, 5 months, and 18 days ago in the most cliche of ways- when he spilled his coffee on your shirt as you were reaching around him for your own drink.

Stuttered apologies somehow turned into telling stories over cups of freshly brewed coffee and before either of you knew it he was leaving the shop with your number in his phone and plans to see you again on Saturday at your favorite museum.

And then Saturday brought along the promise of more dates which turned into spending nights entangled under sheets and mornings filled with apartment hunting before finally signing the papers for a place of your own.

And for 3 years, 1 month, and 6 days it was bliss.

At least that’s what he liked to tell himself.

The bricks that had surrounded his heart were entirely non-existent when it came to you.  You held the key to the inner workings of his heart, and you would safeguard it with your life if you were asked.

And he held the key to yours too, but it turns out that only meant so much.

The majority of your relationship was simplicity in the sweetest form.  It was the feel of your favorite sweater, the smell of your favorite candle, the taste of your go to comfort beverage.

It was simple.  And yet, it was everything.

He longed for the moments a case would end and he could fall into your arms with the promise of drifting to sleep with the feel of your fingers mindlessly spelling ‘I love you’ along his back.  Time off of work was spent cuddled together on the couch, letting the sounds of whatever was playing on the television serve as the background noise for whatever silly debate the two of you had fallen into.

It was simple.  But somewhere along the way the simplicity gave way to complications.

2 years, 9 months, and 18 days into your relationship he found himself enthralled by a guest speaker at your favorite library.  You had to work late so you weren’t able to come, but at the moment he found himself grateful for that because it meant more time with her.

It meant more time to bounce theories off of her, more time to be absolutely captivated by her genius.

It also meant more time for them to trade phone numbers.

And later that night as he told you all about the speech and the amazing lecturer he had met you were ecstatic that the lecture turned out even better than he had hoped.

That ecstatic feeling probably would have dimmed if you knew about the phone number burning a hole in his pocket though.

As the weeks flew by he found himself calling her more and more.  It was never of a romantic nature, always related to one theory or another, but it was enough to draw his attention away from you.

And as the distance between you and him grew, and grew, and grew, one of you was sitting at home desperately thinking of ways to fix it while the other was making up excuses about misplaced paperwork keeping him at work while the low battery tone of his phone chimed away in his pocket.

And on the 1,132nd day the greatest love Spencer ever knew crumbled to the ground.

The case was bad.  So bad, in fact, that he found himself in a hospital bed for a few days after a close call with an unsub.

But as much as everyone told him to call you, you weren’t the one he longed to talk to.

As visiting hours ended and the team left his bedside to get some well-needed rest, he found himself glued to his phone talking to her.  

And while her voice was what he so desperately wanted to hear, he couldn’t help the pang in his gut every time he ignored one of your calls as yours was the voice he so desperately needed to hear.

On the plane ride home, he thought of all the ways he could explain the delayed homecoming to you, all the ways he could hide the wounds gracing his chest from you for the next few weeks.

But, he should’ve known someone would have told you.

He came home to your suitcases packed while you sat in the sea of luggage against the sofa you had picked out together in the blissful beginning of your relationship.

Oh, how he longed to be back there now.

He wanted you to scream, to storm out, to do anything that would lessen the guilt that maliciously tore at his soul.

But instead, you were calm, albeit heartbroken.  You explained you had a feeling something was going on, but the fact that he had gotten hurt and didn’t even tell you proved it.  You told him it was okay, that you wished him all the best, and then you left.  With a tear running down your face but your posture holding all the grace in the world.

And somehow, your calm nature in the midst of his internal storm made it even worse.

He needed to do something, anything, to get out of the apartment that was a living, breathing museum dedicated to your love.  

He should’ve chased after you.  But instead, he went to her.

And with that decision, his future was set in stone.

No matter how riveting his conversations were with her, they didn’t hold a candle to the debates he had with you.  With you, cuddles before bed were an honored tradition; with her, it was custom to stare at the wall and keep his hands to himself until he fell asleep to the thought of your smile.  

He saw you in everything.  In the bouquet she placed on the table (they were your favorite flowers), in the body wash she used (it was your least favorite scent- and because of that it was his least favorite, too), in the book she kept next to her bed (it was the book he used to read to you on nights you couldn’t sleep).

You were everywhere and nowhere all at once.

And now, as she called him to bed and he stuffed your photo in between the pages of the first book he could reach he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had made a terrible mistake.

A mistake that he was destined to fall asleep next to that night, wishing that instead of her, it was you.  

***

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[zuluc]

it’s 4 am and i have class later 😔

he doesn’t work at the library but likes to sit there and bask in the peace from time to time. the rowdiness of the group he found himself accepted into was a nice change from his previous social life but even he needed a break. but you don’t know this. he’s just a mysterious fellow who peaks your interest.

sometimes you can catch him sitting near certain aisles nearby looking at books that were either, on purpose or not, on the top shelf or in a tall pile next to him. he jumps to get a few of them until the librarian came by to offer him a small ladder because, despite him being pretty quiet on his feet, she couldn’t ignore the rustle of clothes or view him moving about.

sometimes this woman comes in to ask him about something, her tall stature making him look smaller than he actually is but her presence is more inviting than intimidating with the proud look on her face. he smiles sometimes when they talk but she leaves him to his devices in the quiet sanctum.

one day he sits at the very edge of your table. you look around to see other empty ones to which he could have more space but he doesn’t seem to have made a mistake of choosing this spot. he makes quick work of laying out his books for the day, poetry and history this time though you don’t know exactly from who or when, and looks up to meet your gaze. you feel embarrassed to have been caught staring at him but he only gives you a kind smile in return.

the days go on like that.

—

but you don’t know him. not yet at least.

he doesn’t know you, but he’s seen you before. in between classes amidst the passionate faces of your friends as they engage in a seemingly heated debate about miniscule things, your own is clear cut. more mellow than those about but equally interested all the same. but you come to this place on your own most times to study or simply relax.

sometimes he finds you in some aisles going through extra textbooks or practice books for your subjects with a permanent look of annoyance on your features. your eyes scan for minutes on end for that one cover because who wants to pay for things only to be used once that you’ll forget about after exams? you certainly don’t. but then again, it would be too good to be true to find it in the library.

sometimes a friend comes in excitedly to talk to you. you indulge his, he knew the name of this certain twin-braid student, poorly whispered words before he’s dragged out by the quiet one you are also friendly with and they disappear to leave you at peace. he sees the fond look you gives after them and a shake of your head at his antics before continuing your quiet time.

one day he finds you sitting alone and a sudden urge to take the corner seat of your table calls to him. call it a sign or whatever his books tell him and he takes the opportunity. he can’t necessarily look at you right away so he hides his eagerness and sets out his books. when he gives and looks up he’s seeing your surprised face all he can do is smile.

—

you think he’s charming as he studies. he doesn’t wear any sort of glasses or anything but he does keep a pencil either rested on top of his ear or in his hand tapping against his lip as he concentrates.

but you try to stop yourself from staring. it’s rude and downright creepy and you don’t want to be dubbed as that type of person to a cute guy.

cute? yes, he was cute.

—

he thought the same about you. cute. that’s why he takes the leap and flicks a paper over to your side of the table, folded up as neatly as he could with words written inside.

Now a peaceful time

Quiet and stagnant are we

Finally to rest

you raise an eyebrow in response and mouth back, “a haiku?” he nods at your quick discerning and asks: “how is it?” with your given location and how neither of you are even going above a light whisper, you mirror his nod.

“fitting.”

and your interactions stay just like that for a while. you show up at the library at the same time and take a seat at the same table. sometimes he passes little papers to you with more haikus, usually capturing the feeling you both are kept in while in quiet. sometimes they’re for jokes to untense your shoulders after hours of reading.

this is how you get to know him but you want to return the favor. so you make some of your own and the look of surprise on his face when he receives a flicked paper is priceless. he’s happy about it, too.

now, you could say that you talk outside of the library and get to know each other there. but the mystery and comfort in doing as you do now is what you both stick with. and there isn’t a problem about it.

days turn into weeks and weeks into months until the bright sun and heat from the outside morphs into falling snow and chilly wind. you know each other enough to be just past acquaintances but not enough to be really called, friends? you weren’t sure.

but he still flicks a paper towards you and instinctively you open it.

This moment is safe

Peering eyes do so wander

There maybe a chance

it may be that you’re so used to his writing but the message in this one feels a little different than the others.

—

he can see your confusion and he stiffens. was it too obvious? this was supposed to be the build-up upon the countless messages he’s shown you and now he’s doubting himself.

getting to know you this way was fun and frankly very relaxing. quiet, limited talking, and basking in each other’s presence really solidified what he was feeling. truly. but he’s about to say “jk” until you smile. it’s a nice view.

so he basks in it.

—

was it something you did? or said? sorry, wrote?

he doesn’t flick anymore papers to you and it could be because finals are slowly approaching and the books on his side are less about shakespeare and more about the fundamentals of calculus. he hates math, you know this from the papers he.

you realize now that you’ve never sent him one first and now might be a good time to do so but how? sure you’ve sent him haikus but they were, per say, not very good. well, it did take you ten minutes to realize what exactly syllables were until you knew what it was the whole time but couldn’t remember what it was called.

so you just stay still and write nothing. for now, you think back on his last message.

—

two days. was two days enough to let you process that?

kazuha looks to the side from time to time to see what you’re doing as he fiddles with a paper he’s been meaning to send to you. you look up in feelings someone’s gaze on you, don’t know it’s really just a feeling, and catch him staring. an endearing flush comes about your face and he flicks the paper.

—

you open it and your heart drops. a feeling in your chest you weren’t aware of is crumbling apart.

“there’s this person i like and i was wondering if you think they’d like this”

underneath is another haiku.

Soft lights from outside

Gathering in your presence

A beautiful view

your response is you desperately hiding your feelings. and you nod with a soft smile. he untenses and closes his eyes, grinning.

damn it. you really like him.

—

the next day you leave at the same time which is weird. mostly because despite knowing each other for months on the exchange of paper, you never leave the library together. usually one of your friends comes to sweep you away and he stays an extra hour or two or vice versa. heck, you don’t even show up at the same hour. you just kind of find each other not knowing when the other arrived or if they had always been there.

now it’s awkward because you’re standing close to one another and can talk without the scolding of being loud, not that you ever were inside.

he heaves a sigh and digs into his pocket to pull out a pen and small paper. you give a look of confusion but allow him to finish. you really wanted to say something.

but the final note is here and with no table to slide it over to you he comes up with a last minute plan. reach over to you, he lightly flicks your forehead.

you jump and stare at him with wide eyes as he presents you with a neatly folded note in his hand for you to take.

unfolding it gingerly, you read:

Seeing you outside

A better view than before

Now it is all clear

it takes a while to put two and two together but he does it for you.

“so you never answered my question a few days ago,” his voice is calm and smooth, “did you like that haiku?”

[harryhandstan]

prompt: harry wakes up early on starbucks cup release days and surprises you by buying all the ones he thinks you’ll like. he’s usually able to escape the paps but this time they catch him and he ends up having to explain it in his next interview and gets all shy and can’t stop blushing.

a/n: hello all!! first I want to apologize for my 4 month long writing absence. life just has not been kind to me lately and unfortunately zapped a lot of my creativity energy, but I’m happy to have something done now! hopefully I can continue and keep a more consistent schedule for the remainder of this year!

immense thank you’s are owed to my kind friends @tobesolonely and @meetmymouth for the encouragement to find my creative spark for writing again and for being amazing betas! and to @taintedwonder for the lovely idea! @theharriediaries​ was so sweet to beta for me as well!!

word count: 2.1k

writing tag | masterlist | tiktok inspo 

Harry was usually smarter than this. He had a schedule, a plan, a way to get in and out pretty quickly without being seen. 

But today, he’d lingered too long at the mugs, curious if you’d want one of those as well. Your go-to was iced coffee, even year round in the winter you would prefer something cold over anything warm. He was thinking though, of the nights you were stressed and wanted a cup of soothing tea before bed, or those slower mornings where you don’t have to rush and a mug of coffee fits nicely in your hand while he admires you from across the kitchen table.

By the time he’s decided that yes, you do need this mug with the pastel rainbow print to add to your collection, along with a few of the other cups he thinks you’ll adore and a fresh bag of your favorite flavor of coffee, there’s already a small crowd of people forming in the lobby of the coffee shop and he hopes that he can get through them without being recognized as usual; prays that it’s only the regulars filing in for an early morning fix of caffeine before they rush off to start their day.

The barista thankfully is quick, skillfully giving him his total before rushing off to make the drinks he ordered for the two of you as well. He sees the way her eyes keep darting to him though, knows after years of experience that she knows who he is and is trying to work up the courage to say something to him or ask for a photo. He almost considers offering, she’s been so nice not to draw any attention to him, maybe something discreet could be pulled off. 

In the end he chooses not to, not wanting to assume that’s why she keeps looking over at him. It could be that he still has the hood of his sweatshirt tucked over his beanie or the fact that he’s now walking out of the shop with a small handful of the brown shopping bags with the familiar green logo imprinted on the front.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he makes it back to his car without anyone stopping him. He’s so distracted by securing the bags in the backseat he fails to hear the small clicks of the camera not too far away.

There’s a small comfort in the quietness of your shared apartment when he returns. While he loves coming home to the sound of you dancing around the kitchen making breakfast, his favorite is getting to wake you up himself. There’s a sweet softness in the way the side of your face rests against your pillow, mouth parted slightly and a gentle snore vibrating through your chest. It never fails to make him smile. He cherished the way you inhale faintly, stretching your limbs before blinking a few times, adjusting to the new day you’re waking up to. If he was there, already awake, your eyes always found him before anything else.

This morning is no different, except for the confusion on your face when you find him sitting on the edge of the bed instead of snuggled next to you. 

“You’re up to something, I can tell.”  You’re propped up enough now to accept the coffee he’s holding out for you. You take a few small sips, sighing and letting your head fall back against the headboard as you savor the taste.

“M’that easy to read, huh?” He chuckles, his hand on your thigh now, warming your skin even through the blanket, “Well..would you like your surprise here or will you be joining me in the kitchen while I make you breakfast?”

“Oh I get a surprise and breakfast today? What’s the occasion? Little early for my birthday, H.” 

“Don’t need an occasion to spoil my girl, do I?”

“I guess not.” 

You shrug, trying not to let the guilt bubble up enough to where it flashes across your face. One of his loudest love languages had always been gift giving, a quality about him you thought was wonderful, but still had a hard time accepting. You had to be careful about mentioning things you may want around Harry, he would use any excuse to treat you.

He’s rambling off his reasoning already as he leads you into the kitchen and settles you in one of the tall chairs next to the counter. He always ends his explanation with “I know you told me not to, but…” followed up by what you’re sure to him sounds like a very logical justification for why you need/deserve whatever he was gifting you. There’s nothing out of the ordinary of your regular kitchen set up this morning though, so you do what you normally do when he announces a surprise for you; let him take the lead, not wanting to take away from his excitement. 

“So..surprise or breakfast first?” He stands on the other side of the counter now, his hoodie and beanie discarded, wearing a t-shirt you were sure you bought for yourself but he seems to have laid claim to.

“Breakfast, please. If you don’t mind.” 

“‘Course not. Any requests, baby?”

Your heart flutters for a moment, just as it does each time he uses that particular term of affection for you. He’s already opened the refrigerator, scanning over options for what he could make for the two of you. You recover long enough to tell him no, that whatever he wants to make would be fine, sitting back and enjoying the view as he cracks a few eggs into a bowl.

You don’t even notice that you’re staring until he turns and catches your eye, “What? Did I get a shell in the eggs or something?”

You giggle as he even picks up the clear bowl of eggs that he’s already scrambled and seasoned, even going so far as to swirl his finger through the liquid to double check before you can stop him.

“No, it’s just..I can’t get over the fact that you’re making breakfast for me while wearing my t-shirt.”

“S’it yours?” He glances down at it, “Thought it was mine, sorry..”

There’s a smirk on his face as he turns back to the stove, and you know just by seeing that he knows you don’t mind; you love seeing him in your clothes as much as he adores seeing you in his.  

It’s not long before he’s presenting you with a plate, sitting next to you with his own plate in front of him. When you don’t immediately dig in, he leans over to inspect the food, worried that maybe he’d overdone the eggs or your toast was slightly more brown than you liked. 

So when you say, “You’ve forgotten something very important, haven’t you?” he panics, thinking maybe he should’ve taken the time to include fruit to balance the meal. You take pity on him, not making him wait too long before you lean in and he instantly softens, realizing what you’re asking for. 

He meets you the rest of the way, lips soft against yours, the taste of the coffee you’ve both had lingering for a moment before he pulls away, “Very important. How could I ever have forgotten?”

When you’ve both finished eating, he downs the last of his coffee and stacks your now empty plates to take to the sink, pecking your forehead with another quick kiss, “Alright, close your eyes. Count to 20.”

You begin to count off in your head, and you hear his voice, a bit further away, “Out loud, angel.”

There’s a rustling of bags getting closer as you count, and you can even hear a few clinks as they come closer. You can feel him moving around you, positioning things perfectly for when you open your eyes. 

He’s still behind you when you finish counting, hands squeezing your shoulders to urge you to open your eyes. When you do, you immediately recognize the bags and know exactly what he’s done.

“Oh no. Absolutely not. This is too much, Harry. I let you spoil me with little things here and there, but I cannot accept this.”

Sitting in front of you are..you stop to count them now; 1, 2, 3, 4..6 bags from Starbucks. You know from experience that each one of them contains 2 cups or mugs. You’re sure at least one of them also includes your favorite roast of coffee. He had done this before around Christmas time, when you’d mentioned how adorable a few of the ones from the holiday collection had been, not thinking that he would go back later without you and buy all the ones you’d touched or admired.  

He ignores your refusal, “You can take back any you don’t like. Go on,” He peeks inside one of the bags closest to him and then pushes it closer to you, “Start with this one.”

“Harry, really..”

“Don’t think, just open. If you really won’t accept any of them then I’ll take ‘em back and buy you something from somewhere else.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You try your best to look serious, but you can’t stop the smile from spreading across your face, “Thank you, H.”

You finally go through most of the bags, offering oohs and ahhs and even a few squeals of joy at certain ones. 

“I think I got all the ones you’d pick for yourself. Saw you eyeing one or two the other day and the others I just guessed.”

He had done very well in choosing for you, even going so far as to get the two of you a matching pair of the kind that changed colors with the temperature. 

“For our smoothies.” He explains when you give him a particularly soft look at the idea of matching with him. 

“Also got us a matching set of these,” He skips to the last bag, too eager to wait for you to open it yourself, revealing the mug he’d taken the extra time to select, “For our Sunday morning tea. Or if you change your mind and ever want a hot coffee.”

All you can do is repeat the same expression of gratitude as before you had opened them, “Thank you again, H. I love them all, really. No more though, alright? We’re running out of cabinet space. Did you go to our regular spot or a different one so you wouldn’t be recognized?” 

“Different one. Can’t believe I wasn’t spotted though. Must’ve been too early for the paps to be out and about.”

“Or maybe you aren’t as interesting as you think you are, babe. Harry Styles coming out of a Starbucks is old news now.” 

His eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise, “Oh is it now?”

“Mhmm. You’re just plain boring now, H.” You shrug, peeling at the price tag on the bottom of one of the cups, avoiding his gaze; knowing if you look at him you’ll break into a fit of laughter. 

He’s impossibly calm, just like he is before any interview he does. 

You sit across the room from where he’s currently getting his hair done. The stylist was nervous, understandably so, her hands unsure at first. It only takes a few moments of being near Harry; working his quiet, delicate magic of putting anyone he’s near at ease. By the time his hair is finished he’s pulled a few laughs from her and she leaves the room with a big beaming smile and a wave to the both of you.

Now that you’re alone again, he beckons you closer and tugs you down to sit in his lap, despite your protests of the possibility of wrinkling his incredibly expensive suit. 

“Don’t care,” He leans up to press a kiss to your neck, keeping his face tucked there in your warmth, “Just want you close for a moment.”

Normally you would run your fingers through his hair, but you don’t dare do that now, hand drifting to the side of his face instead, “Not nervous are you, H?”

He lets you gently push him back enough to see his face again, “Never. Just happy to have you here with me, that’s all.”   

It’s not until he’s in front of the audience, presented with the evidence of just a few days before, displayed on a screen for all to see. He had been caught, despite his confidence of getting away. He falters for only a beat, head down in hopes to hide the blush spreading high along his cheeks. He finds you in the crowd, sending a bright smile your way before he shrugs, turning his attention back to the host.

“What can I say? My sunshine likes her coffee.” 

//

tag list: @harrysblackcoat​, @summertime-pills​ 

thank you for reading!! as always likes, rbs, and feedback is welcome and appreciated!!

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

I just read your Riven fics and ommggg they are so good!! Idk if you are making a part three but I will definitely look out for it! I haven’t started the sly ones but I can’t wait!

Come back to me // part 2

Pairing: Riven x light!fairy

Breath caught in her throat, she felt her hands tremble as her eyes lingered on the envelope on her pillow. The handwriting is in the kind of black that speaks of nighttime dreaming. The letters are so typically Riven - messy and yet she could see the effort behind each and every word - To my Sunshine - .

It’s been a long time since he last wrote her a love note, far too long for her to truly remember what it said. She remembers how it made her feel - hopeful, elated, giddy. That’s all Riven needed to win her over - love notes he’d slip in her books whenever she wasn’t looking.

This time it felt different. The note brought anxiety, fear of what the envelope may hide inside. They barely speak nowadays and when they do, Riven is crude and too often she finds herself crying herself to sleep because of how convincing he is with his act. Sometimes she wonders if he’s acting at all or if that’s who he is with everyone but her and it makes her feel guilty. How can she still be questioning his loyalties?

Shaking her head, she releases a heavy sigh before her shaky fingers pry open the envelope. The paper inside is barely ink stained, a few words written for her aching heart.

“Still Your Asshole”

Chuckling, Y/N covers her mouth with an open palm, glancing at the door to make sure no one is nearby. It wasn’t a chuckle that seemed to stop as it turned into a cackle and that cackle turned into a sob. She didn’t know where the sobs came from, she just knew she couldn’t stop. As if the soul could bleed an ocean through the eyes, that was the enormity of her sobbing.

Screaming into her pillow, Y/N felt the rawness of her pain fully. It had revealed its ugly head and she couldn’t breathe. 

Riven may be hers but he isn’t. It takes a moment, a single mistake for him to be uncovered by Rosalind or Beatrix and he’d be taken from her. She’d never get to run her fingers through his brown hair, she’d never get to kiss his lips again or feel his hand in hers. He’d never tease her again, he’d never write her a new note or insist she needs him to teach her to fight. All of it would be gone in a blink of any eye and the severity of that realization choked the light out of her, even if for a little while.

She can’t always be the Sunshine. Clouds will eventually clear, but she needs the little bit of darkness and the sweetness it brings. Even if she’s in pain, even if the sadness threatens to suffocate her, she craves it. 

Riven makes her weak, he makes her vulnerable. She never dreamed she could care for a man like Riven, she certainly didn’t wish it, but she does. It’s more than caring for Riven, she’s way past that. Whatever wicked game he played to make her feel that way for him, it worked. She fell in love with Riven and now it’s consuming her.

Wiping her tears, she stashes the letter under her mattress before walking out in the sun. If she can’t be the light, she can at least get the warmth of another’s light.

She lays down on the damp grass, looking up at the sky. She looked at the sky like a man would look at a withered flower in which he no longer sees the beauty he plucked it for, thus destroying it.

This noble heart that beat only for the most tender of emotions had to be subjected to pain to learn the secret of life:

Love has to come at once, with thunder and lightning like a hurricane that wrecks havoc on your life, to shake you up and break the the heart like leaves off trees, to drag it into the abyss.

She’s in the abyss now.

“You can’t be here”, and then she hears his voice, pulling her away from the darkness. “Come on”, he whisper shouts as he takes her by the hands and helps her to her feet. 

She’s a little dizzy, disoriented by the sudden change in position. His eyes are on her, his face inches away and yet she feels like they’re a thousand miles apart. She doesn’t fight him as he drags her to the greenhouse, closing the door quickly so no one would see them.

“I got your note”, she’s the first one to speak. Riven turns to her with a small smile only for it to fall when he truly looks at her - puffy, red eyes and dry lips aren’t easily mistakable. 

He let out a slow controlled breath, “Is that why you cried?” Riven’s eyebrows furrow as he steps closer to her, his hands on his hips.

“I cried because I miss you!” She shouts, her fingers flickering alight and she knows she’s losing control. A shuddered breath passes her quivering lips, “I miss you and I’m worried about you and I hate you.” She says through gritted teeth and Riven can’t help but stumble back, confused.

“Me?” He raises his eyebrows, pointing his right index finger at himself, “What did I do?”

Scoffing, Y/N shakes her head. “YOU MADE ME LOVE YOU AND YOU’RE NOT EVEN HERE!” Covering her mouth, she turns away from him. She never told him that she loved him before and he never uttered anything close to it either. She feared looking at him and not have him say it back. After all, why would he?

“You love me?” Riven breathes out, still trying to collect himself. Crossing the distance between them, Riven wraps his arms around her. Pulling her back against his chest, he folds his hands over her abdomen. He’s holding on tightly, like she’s a dream he’s afraid to wake up from. 

“You love me?” He repeats in a whisper. Knitting her eyebrows together, she frowns and bites into the soft flesh of the inside of her bottom lip as his lips brush her earlobe.

“Yes”, she leans her head back on his shoulder, relaxing in his arms.

“Good.” Riven whispers and she snaps out of it, slapping his hands until he lets go. 

“Good?” She exclaims, her glare deadlier than a blade. 

“Yeah?” Riven chuckles, scratching the back of his neck.

“I tell you I love you and all you have to say is good?” She deadpans, before throwing her hands in the air, “Unbelievable.”

“Yeah. It’s good, because I’ve been in love with you for about a year now and it’s good to know you finally feel the same way.” Riven shrugs, “But go on. I like it when you’re angry.”

Rolling her eyes, she playfully slaps his chest, “Don’t fucking do that to me!”

“Did you just say a swear word?” Riven’s eyes widen, a grin much wider making Y/N blush.

“You’re really going to nitpick at my language instead of kissing me now when we finally got a moment alone in months?” She raises an eyebrow, tapping her foot nervously.

“I’m actually running late”, Riven wets his lips and yet he doesn’t move away, but closer to Y/N. All he can taste is the cherry chapstick she wore the first time they kissed. That was on a constant loop inside his head.

“We could run?” Y/N tries, but Riven only shakes his head.

“I spent my whole life running. I can’t betray Sky like that. He’s my brother.” 

Struggling to inhale, Y/N whispers, “And what am I to you?”

“The love of my life.” Riven blurts out without a second thought as his hands cups her cheeks, “You’re the only reason why I’m never going to give up.”

“You’re saying all the right words and my heart still hurts”, she sniffles, hoping she doesn’t cry again. She’s had enough of crying for a lifetime.

“I wish I could make it better, I do.” Closing his eyes, Riven leans his forehead on hers, “I love you with all I am. With all I’ll ever be.” Drawing in a sharp inhale, he holds his breath for a moment to stop tears from forming. “If I were a better man, I’d have let you go.”

“Don’t be the better man”, she croaks, her fingers curling his hair at the back of his head. “Be the bad guy. Just be mine.” And she kissed him. With a devastating sweetness, an innocence - as if this were the first time. Strong fingers curved about her jaw and warmth seeped into her bones, her skin, her soul.

The lips held to hers, reassuringly alive. Riven had reassured her by the strength of his arms surrounding her and the steady wilderness in his chest, beat of a heart not her own. 

She was no longer alone in misery. Someone was there, keeping her warm, holding the memories at bay and dangers of the world could no longer get to her. Her lips softened; tentatively, she returned the kiss with all her heart.

Breaking the kiss, Riven’s arms leave her, the warmth going with him. She stumbles, catching her breath. 

Riven glances at his phone only to swear under his breath and she knows something’s happened.

“Listen to me”, Riven swallows thickly, “Stay with Stella and the rest tonight.”

“Why”, Y/N frowns, folding her arms across her chest.

“Don’t ask questions, please.” Pecking her lips, Riven takes a few steps back, “If you love me as much as you say you do, go now and stay with the girls. I’ll try to contact you as soon as I can.”

“Riven”, Y/N raises her voice, unnerved and anxious about his behavior. 

“Sunshine, please”, his voice softens and she nods, licking her lips. Before she can say a word, he manages a smile, “I’ll come back to you. I will.” 

And that’s when he leaves and Y/N does as he asked. But the nagging feeling inside her chest is relentless - something bad is happening and someone is going to get hurt.

Part 4 

[brockadoodles]

Let me tell you that I love you (4 +1) - b. boeser

AN: Burn this gif onto my grave honestly. BUT ANYWAYS. Uh decided to write during the Canucks game just in case they gave me pain. And they didn’t, and I finished something. A short sweet little 4+1 for you all. I haven’t written one of these in forever, so i really tried to keep each snippet short. Let me know what you think :)

Word Count: 3433

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol briefly 

One 

Brock Boeser was an irremediable fucking romantic. He was the guy who was always more than willing to cozy up on a rainy day with a tragic Nicholas Sparks-esque movie on in the background, never shy at admitting that something as achingly faux romantic as The Notebook could make him weep. He was the guy that all of the cliches were written about, the over sensitive Pisces who stitched his heart on the inside of his left sleeve, ready and eager to give it to someone. That someone, the one who he wanted to give his entire soul to over the last year had become you. 

You were someone he had met by accident, a romantic comedy worthy moment where you both had bonded helplessly at some overly fancy bar where you both had been stood up on dates. He felt stiff in his suit jacket, and you were there in that beautiful navy piece that had him wondering how the stars and planets had aligned in such a way that he was lucky enough to be half enjoying a drink next to you. You had smiled at him, opening the gates for a shitty date turned into a memory he couldn’t wait to tell the story of in twenty five years. One chance meeting had become a date, and more dates after that until over the summer he was bringing you home to meet his parents, where he told you that he loved you for the first time. 

Brock was nervous to take you home but it wasn’t because there was an underlying fear that his family wouldn’t see all of the things in you that he did. He was apprehensive because he knew the backstory of his own life was enough baggage to send someone away, and it had. He had gone through this before, bringing someone home who didn’t want to bear the burden of what life with Brock Boeser actually meant and that loss had shaped his perspective on relationships. Bringing you home was hard, because he wanted so desperately for this to work out, and if you couldn’t take on that baggage, he knew that it wouldn’t. 

Brock felt like he had that nervousness in his chest and stomach for the whole first twenty four hours that you were there. You had flown in late, settling into bed and falling right to sleep next to him. You always found a way to sleep, whereas he was consciously restless late into the witching hour, anxious about the next day where you would be actually meeting his family for the first time. 

He had spent so long waiting for the other shoe to drop, that when you got along seamlessly with his dad, he was still uncontrollably on edge. He was watching wordlessly as you sat out on the porch with Duke, a smile on your face as you listened to him, nodding and responding with Easton comfortably playing in your lap. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned, seeing his mom with a comforting expression on her face.

“She’s great, Brock. Stop waiting for the bad.” She murmured. Brock turned back to look outside, where you were just reaching a hand to his dad’s wrist and laughing. He felt like the air was exhaling from his lungs the longer he let his mom’s words marinate in his mind. Brock opened the slider door and stepped outside, slowly walking over and pressing a soft kiss to his dad’s cheek, who in return patted his hand reassuringly. He then moved to you, settling into the wicker chair next to you and letting you hand over his nephew who was now reaching for him. As you handed Easton over, it was like everything clicked into place for him. This was what he wanted one day with you, passing over your own child with the sun setting over the lake and family all around. That was the first time he realized that he had finally figured out what love meant, because the feeling struck him harshly. He loved you, and instead of overthinking the feeling, he told you.

“I love you.” He murmured, softly enough that only you could hear it. Your eyes widened and your mouth hung open as if he could see every thought that was stampeding through your mind. He recoiled a bit, diverting his eyes from yours and swallowing back the feelings he had just let escape without thinking about the consequences. You smiled awkwardly, grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers together. You brought his hand to your lips and pressed a soft kiss to it, your non verbal way of not reciprocating. It wasn’t until you were alone that you explained to him you just weren’t ready yet, a conversation that felt like a punch to his gut but that he bore with patience and understanding. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple after, reassuring you that he understood what you were saying. You didn’t not love him, you just weren’t there yet, something he could have the patience to wait for. 

Two

The second time that Brock shared with you that he loved you was by accident. It was a classic case of drunk words revealing sober thoughts. Not that his love for you was a secret that he was trying to keep, but instead it was a closely locked away feeling that he was trying to wait to share again until you gave him the go ahead. The wait had been eating him up inside, a small sense of rejection had made a home out of his heart after telling you the first time didn’t go how he envisioned. He loved you, he was so beyond in love with you that he wished for nothing more than to be able to tell you that every second of every day. But you weren’t ready, and his sober self knew that, his wine drunk self, did not.  

It was your birthday and Vancouver had blessed (or cursed, according to most of the people that lived there) you with a dusting of snow. It was nowhere near what Brock was used to from growing up in Minnesota. He was used to long winters where the lake would be a solid sheet of ice that he and his buddies could spend their days skating on, with sometimes over a foot of snow on the ground. 

Vancouver snow was a different story. The small amount was enough to close businesses early, and cause the city to almost shut down until the snow was gone. The mere 5 inches was a lot to people in the pacific northwest, so he watched you with a fond expression as you dragged him down to the park that was near his condo, a pom pom beanie on your head and one of his jackets wrapped around you. 

You both had knocked back almost two bottles of wine, and there was a hazy aura surrounding you as he watched you twirl around with your arms out, catching snowflakes in your hair. Brock grabbed your hand and pulled you into his chest, kissing your forehead and then your nose and cheeks that were cold from the snow. 

“What are you doing?” You giggled, bringing your hand up to rest on his cheek as he looked at you. God, you were his entire fucking world, and once again he didn’t think before opening the box to that thought he had buried in his heart from the summer, the words slipping from his lips before any sense of sobriety could catch up to him. 

“I love you.” He whispered, a soft smile tugging at his lips and his eyes searching yours, hoping for a different outcome than the first time just a few months prior. You stepped back from him, bracing your hands on his arms and shifting your gaze away, something that sobered him up completely. 

“I’m not ready.” You mumbled, a sad expression behind your eyes that Brock wished wasn’t there. He tugged you closer into his chest, another soft kiss to your temple as he ran a hand along your back.

“Take as long as you need.” Brock reassured you, more than willing to live by that promise. You were worth any wait that he had to endure.  

Three 

Playoffs were Brock’s favorite part of his job. The rush of the do-or-die series was something that every player loved. He felt like playoffs were the time where his real skills came into view, where he stood on his own as a talented forward instead of in the shadows wondering where his place was. It wasn’t that Brock was insecure per say, he just always felt like he had something to prove, mainly to himself. The Canucks had battled through all of the rounds, knocking out their opponents, leading them here to the Western Conference Finals against Vegas. It was game seven, the last hurdle before playing for the cup, absolutely do-or-die for this season.  

It was everything Brock had been striving towards. It wasn’t a Stanley Cup, but god in that moment it may as well have felt like one. A game seven game winning goal, sending the team to the finals. Every year he had spent plagued with injuries, wondering if he would ever get back to that spot he had been at his rookie year, wondering if he’d ever actually feel like he deserved to be a part of that core that were the faces scattered on the outside of Rogers Arena. He nearly couldn't breathe as the puck passed by Marc Andre Fleury, hitting the back of the net and sounding off the familiar goal horn. Elias and JT were quick to pile on top of him, nearly knocking him backwards into the boards as the rest of the team ran out onto the ice. This was everything he had hoped for, a chance to play for the Stanley Cup and he was in tears knowing it was his goal that sent him there. 

After the game, all he wanted was to find you. He raced out of the locker room, past the press area where thankfully he still had twenty minutes before he needed to sit down for his interviews. He ran out into the tunnel, hair still slightly damp as he searched for you. It didn’t take him long to find you, you were standing near Holly. You turned to face him just as he rounded the corner into your line of view. He watched as you touched Holly’s arm, saying something to her that he wasn’t close enough to read on your lips. You nearly jogged up to him, jumping into his arms hard and sending him backwards as he braced for your impact. 

The two of you stood there for a moment, ignoring the entire commotion around you as some of his other teammates were cheering and coming out. He didn’t care about any of it, he cared about you. You were the one who was there for the worst season of his career, and sharing this win with you was almost more special than the win itself. You grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him hard, peppering kisses after. Brock took this as his moment, another moment where he could share with you just how he felt.

“I love you, I love you, holy shit, I fucking love you.” He mumbled against your lips. You froze slightly in his arms, hesitating before you crashed your lips back into his, hopefully distracting him from the uneasy feeling in your chest.

“I am so proud of you, Brock.” You whispered. He just looked at you and smiled, ignoring the slight feeling of letdown he felt at your lack of reciprocation. You weren’t ready, and he was okay with that. Instead of dwelling he just kissed you one last time to your lips and then your temple, holding you close before he went to answer questions from people he didn’t care to answer to before you all were going to celebrate. The Canucks didn’t win the cup that year, and his first thought after watching the Flyers rush out and hoist the coveted trophy was that maybe the disappointment would fade once he got home to you. 

Four

Brock Boeser was a fucking romantic, and there was nothing more romantic to him than a wedding. It didn’t matter how many he watched in movies, or attended as he got older and his friends and teammates started getting married. No matter who it was, there was something that calmed him about seeing two people so in love and committing to that for their lives. He always pictured his wedding, except it was only ever from his perspective. In his daydreams, he never saw someone walking down the aisle toward him, he only saw himself standing there with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face as he waited for whoever that person was to get to him. It wasn’t until he loved you that the perspective changed, and he saw himself looking at you walking toward him. 

It was Troy and Emma’s wedding, a small gathering just outside of the city and Brock was in a good mood all day. He was humming softly as he drove the two of you there, a smile permanently settled on his lips as the soft sounds of Kodaline came through the speakers of the car. He had one hand secured with yours in your lap and occasionally he glanced over at you, wondering how in the hell he got so lucky to still have you. 

The wedding was beautiful, Troy and Emma both cried softly as they went through their vows, cementing their relationship with that final first kiss as the small group of close friends and families sat in the gazebo in attendance. Brock held your hand the entire time, feeling his chest tighten when you reached up and kissed the back of it just as the vows were being shared. 

He loved weddings, but going to one with you had him tumbling back toward that locked away feeling in his chest. The romantic atmosphere clouded his judgement and dared it to come out for another time to share it with you. Brock made a mental note to stop getting ahead of himself, to stop planning out an entire future with you when you weren’t ready to even say you loved him yet. He tried to push the anxiety away, the feeling that maybe he was the one holding you back, maybe he was too sensitive or putting too much pressure on you to say it back, even though he had only let it slip less than a handful of times. He swore that sometimes he felt it. Sometimes you would look at him just long enough, with your lips pursed and the words sitting right there as he waited, but then you would falter and shake your head a bit, playing the moment off with a smile. He counted so many of those times and they were casting doubt into his chest that maybe he was there planning an entire future with someone who would never realistically be ready, no matter how hard he wanted you to be.  

You could tell that he was in his head, something about the way he was carrying himself through the day had you worried. You watched as his eyes wandered around the reception hall. He was watching everyone carefully and you knew him so well by now that it felt like you were almost inside his head with him. Only instead of letting you hear what was running through his mind, there was a locked door keeping you out. Brock shifted back to face you, grabbing your hand once more and helping you up.

“Dance with me?” He asked. Brock pulled you into his chest, wrapping an arm around your waist as he swayed slowly with you, not paying attention to much around him other than you. He was feeling grateful for a lot of things, grateful that he was able to share such a special day with some of his closest friends, grateful that now the picture of this with you was so clear in his mind, and grateful that you were there with him, dancing slowly around the room. Brock closed his eyes for a moment as you leaned your head into his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as he moved you around. He pictured all of it, the flower crown you’d probably wear, the smile on your face, and the tears in his own eyes that he would have watching as you came toward him. He pictured every last detail, a vivid dream that he was set on becoming a reality now. 

“I love you.” He hummed, letting his eyes open slowly as you lifted your head. You didn’t even have to say you weren’t ready this time, the slight shift of your eyes had unfortunately become something that Brock was learning all too well. He did what he always did though, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple and tucked the box of love back inside, sighing softly to himself and wishing that one day you’d take it.  

Plus One

Brock loved you in all the ways that he ever thought that he could love someone, down to each subtlety of your demeanor and personality. He loved the way you laughed at his bad jokes, the way that you were patient with his dad, and the way you cared so much about the health of the world. But he also loved the bad things, the little annoyances that came with navigating a relationship that was long distance part time, the way you’d sometimes leave a mess at his place, hitting a nerve after a tough loss, he loved all of those things because that’s what made you human and your relationship normal.

This morning wasn’t anything special, there was no event the previous night that had kept you out late. There was no celebration of any kind. You had come over for dinner and stayed, falling asleep tucked under his arm with Coolie and Milo snuggled at your feet. This no doubt was Brock’s favorite way to wake up, and he’d do it for a lifetime as soon as you’d let him. 

Brock always woke up before you, he was often an early riser and whenever you were there he found himself settling in and watching you sleep for just a few moments before he would slowly roll away from you to get up and make coffee. This morning was no different. His fingers drummed along your hip as your eyes fluttered open and his chest filled with the same feeling he only ever imagined existed in an alternate reality. You smiled softly and tucked yourself closer into his chest, a soft and groggy  good morning escaping from your lips. He didn’t have time to think about if you were on his page, he was already writing the rest of the book with you. 

“I love you.” He said. 

He supposed it was just another instance added to the shortlist in his mind of attempts at telling you he loved you. Brock was now zero for four, more than a strikeout on the scoreboard, but Brock was also patient, and didn’t mind a late bottom of the 9th inning comeback if it meant his love was finally reciprocated. He didn’t mind telling you he loved you, because he did, but a small part of his heart cracked each time you smiled and nodded in favor of saying those three words back that he’d do anything to hear. Each kiss to the temple after masking that crack in his chest that was widening, possibly too far to fill in with hope much longer. 

Except this time, your smile wasn’t forced. There wasn’t a nervousness behind your eyes, there was something else. You leaned into him, kissing him softly while your hand tugged at the ends of his hair. Something felt different in this kiss, a calm wave settling into his chest instead of the usual feeling that Brock felt from the previous times he shared this with you. You pulled back, smiling at him brightly. 

“I love you, too.” And those words that fell from your lips didn’t hold a flame to any of the hopeless romances he not so secretly liked to enjoy, he now had the real thing. 

[purifiedclitoris69]

peace and comfort

Hi everyone! Ok so this is completely new to me. I’ve been on tumblr for about 3 months now and up until now I’ve just been reading other people amazing works, but I think I’m going to try and start writing a few of my own one-shots maybe even some short series, I’m not really sure yet. That being said hope you enjoy pls try and be lenient with me this is very much new. Much love!

idrk where i was going with this but hope you enjoy! feedback is welcome!

Nat x Gn!reader

Summary: Y/n Y/l/n, a new pryokentic avenger that is still struggling to adjust to their new environment, leading to rough nights and trouble sleeping, has an accidental rendezvous with Nat on the roof, the could start something new and refreshing.

“Hey, what are you doing up so late,” Nat spoke startlingly you and breaking you out of your trance of the open fire in front of you that stood tall and almost untamed, a visual on how your anxiety is starting to feel on the inside.

You’d woken up from another nightmare drenched in a cold sweat, your use to it by now but recently it’s just been so exhausting. The constant reminder of what you were put through, what you were forced to do over and over again, the constant feeling that he could come back and make it happen all over again. So naturally you made your way up to the roof and started a fire in the pit. Fire being the only positive constant in your life, it brought you a sense of peace and comfort that almost nothing else could.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you answered as you fingers curled around your sweater sleeves that hung a little too low and brought your knees up to your chest,”what about you,” you asked staring back into the fire.

“I’m always up late,” Nat said softly,” I like to come up here and have a cup of tea,” she gave a smile as you gave a very small one back, looking at her taking in the pure beauty she always had to offer. She wore a loose oversized jacket, over a loose t-shirt, and shorts and still managed to be the most beautiful girl in you eyes,” any reason you couldn’t sleep.”

Nat always took an interest in you, craving to get to know you better, ever since you kicked her and Bucky’s ass in Singapore, and after the past 4 months you’ve spent on the team proving to be even more interesting and not to mention hotter than she thought. You were still pretty distant but just seeing you around and seeing that ghost of a smile made her crave you even more. Of course she understands why you are they way you are, being psychologically condition to follow orders without question for practically your whole and then finally being able to follow your own path can be very confusing and overwhelming, she gets that. She just wished that you knew she got it and she was there, but everyday you proved to be more closed off than she thought you’d be, yet a part of her is refusing to give up.

“I keep seeing him…the things he made me do” you spoke barely above a whisper as you held out a brief fire in your hand as the fire in the pit crackled a little louder. This confession shocked her, she didn’t expect an answer so open. ‘Him’ as in your father, the reason you are the pyrokentic freak you believe yourself to be. Your father was never a good man, abusive both mentally and physically to everyone in your family, which ultimately caused it to fall apart.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Nat offered taking a seat beside you, as she took in the glazed over look you had, she could tell that you didn’t mean to admit that, but she was glad you did, it was progress” your safe here now,” she tried to reach out and place a hand on your arm causing you to pull away.

“You shouldn’t,” you mumbled dropping your knees and rubbing your palms against them,” I run a little hot,” you tried to joke, leaning your back into the couch.

You took an interest in Nat as well and not just because she’s a pretty face. It’s because she was soft and understanding towards you. You took notice to how she was always more aggressive towards her teammates, not in a violent way of course, most of the time, but in a playful, shut the fuck up way. But with you she was patience, kind, something you haven’t experienced in awhile. She had a soft spot for you the team would tell you, but you had one for her too, always keeping her at a distance, because after your past, you couldn’t hurt anymore people, especially someone as good as her. She never pitied you either, not like the others did..she understood you.

“I can handle a little heat, Y/n,” she smirked softly as she leaned her back on to your front and directed her stare into the fire with you, as it grew smaller and more tame, just like the anxiety and fear you’ve been carrying for the past few months, picking her cup of tea back up and sipping, as if you guys weren’t cuddling…interacting, like this for the first time. With her you felt the peace and comfort that fire brought you, you did say almost nothing else could.

[messers-moony]

Comics 3 | A.G

Paring: Aidan Gallagher X Fem!Reader

Summary: Aidan meets an unusually pretty girl at a library while trying to find a textbook for school.

Thirty years of age, both adults still lived in the heart of New York City with bustling careers. Aidan’s singing and acting career took off after releasing his EP at twenty-five, along with his acting in The Umbrella Academy. Not to mention his phenomenal acting in the Netflix series based on Y/n’s comics.

Y/n’s comic book writing and illustrating only got busier as the years went by. So much so Aidan would have to make sure she was eating correctly as she soon became a workaholic. While he loved her passion for comics, he also loved her well-being and wanted her healthy.

Soon enough, she found her healthy balance between work and reality. But lately, she found herself delving back into old habits. She cooped herself in her office, not ever wanting to leave. Aidan tried convincing her to leave, but every time, she’d say the same thing.

“ If I leave, I’ll lose inspiration, and I have perfect ideas at the moment! “

What was even worse was she was most productive at night. So now, Aidan slept alone instead of with the girl he yearned for. Oftentimes he found himself hugging her pillow with his nose as deep as it could go without suffocating himself.

This was a very unhealthy addiction, and again, Aidan loved her enthusiasm for her work, but this was becoming too much. It was about 4 am when Aidan got restless and left the bedroom.

Hesitantly he knocked on her office door to no response. Sighing, he opened the door. There he found Y/n laid with her head on top of the desktop. She was sound asleep, looking rather uncomfortable.

Carefully he picked her up and brought her to bed. She would probably scold him in the morning for bringing her to bed instead of waking her to continue to work, but he didn’t care. She fell into bed effortlessly and instantly nuzzled into his arms, staying asleep.

He gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead before falling asleep himself. Then in the morning, clattering in the kitchen could be heard. Groaning, Aidan left the bed to see Y/n in the kitchen making coffee while reading something on her phone.

“ Morning. “ Was spoke tiredly from Aidan’s mouth, causing her to look up, “ Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. “ Y/n apologized as she set her phone down.

Aidan took a seat at one of the barstools next to the ledge, “ You didn’t. I was bound to wake up eventually. I have a photoshoot later and some scenes to do. “ He replied as he rubbed his face.

“ Are you okay? “ Y/n queried, “ You’re not overworking yourself, are you? “

Aidan deadpanned, “ You’re not one to talk. “ He snapped, and Y/n looked taken aback, “ I found you asleep at your desk last night with colored pencils in your hand. “

“ I'm sorry. I just, I just really need this done. I have a deadline, and it’s stressing me out beyond belief. “ She again apologized, making Aidan sigh, “ I know, love, I know. But you can’t keep yourself in your office all day. You worry me when you’re like this, not eating, not drinking, not doing anything aside from work. “ Aidan explained.

“ I know you’re very passionate about your work, and I love that about you. You put everything you can into your comics, and that’s what makes them so good, but you need to find your balance again. You’re stressing yourself out over nothing. You’ll complete this comic in time. I know you will. “ He reassured, “ I do not deny it isn’t stressful because I know it is. But you can’t be this hard on yourself. “

Y/n sighed, “ Thank you. I’ll try to find my balance again. It’s just been so much. “ She admitted, and Aidan gave her a tiny smile, “ I know. We’ve been together for almost five years, dated for two, and married for nearly three. I know when something becomes too much. “ The brunette male retorted with a chuckle.

“ Damn, it’s almost been three years. It feels like it was yesterday. “ Y/n reminisced, “ You were such a dork back then. “

Aidan scoffed, “ And you weren’t? If I remember correctly, you wore sneakers instead of heels to our wedding. “

“ I can’t walk in heels! That’s not being a dork; that’s being intelligent. “ Y/n faked offense, and Aidan raised an eyebrow, “ And when we got back to the hotel, what did we do? “

“ Played Mario kart. “ Y/n muttered, “ Mm? I couldn’t hear you. “ Aidan teased.

She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes playfully at her husband, “ We played Mario kart. “

“ And that is the dorky side of you, my dear. “ Aidan smirked as he got up from his chair and towards the coffee maker, “ But don’t be mistaken, I love you even more so because you’re like that. “

“ We’re not like normal married couples, are we? “ Y/n questioned as Aidan handed her a coffee, “ Definitely not. “

Life had resumed after that playful banter between both lovers. Aidan had gone on to do his photoshoot and scenes for the day while Y/n worked on her comic book.

Something had always been curious to Aidan though, more specifically, there was a question lingering in his head constantly. Where was Y/n’s family? And why didn’t she ever speak of them?

Aidan was always reasonably proud of his family, but Y/n hadn’t ever mentioned that she had a family. He’d be lying if it didn’t worry him. He didn’t want to imagine her having no family at all. While Aidan’s parents were terrific in-laws, he needed to know she had family as well.

There weren’t even pictures anywhere of them, not a sign. Her phone didn’t hold any photos of mysterious people, nor did any of the frames in the apartment they lived. The questions became more persistent as time went on.

Eventually, after months of pondering, he decided to ask. They were both watching a television show in the living room as she laid in his lap. His hand had absentmindedly began playing with her hair as the other rested upon her chest.

“ Love? “ Aidan spoke, grabbing her attention, “ Yes? “

He thought long and hard before being bluntly curious, “ Where’s your family? “ The question had now blatantly been spilled from his mouth as she froze, “ I, uh, why do you ask? “ Y/n stammered.

“ You’ve never spoken about them. I’ve never even seen proof they existed. It’s been piquing my curiosity forever, and it pains me to think you grew up with no family. “ Aidan confessed as her face softened at his concern, “ I did grow up with family. We should probably just leave it at that. “ She responded, but Aidan wasn't happy with her answer.

“ Please, what happened to them that you won’t even tell me about them? “ He persisted, “ Aidan, it’s not essential, I promise. “ Y/n replied, trying to keep her frustration to a minimum.

Aidan still wasn’t quite cheerful at her sudden annoyance, “ What are their names? Did you have any siblings? Any cousins? Any aunts or uncles? “ The male continued asking questioned until Y/n lost her temper, “ Aidan! Please! I don’t want to speak about them. They made it known long ago they wanted nothing to do with me, okay? “ Y/n snapped as she sat up and faced him.

“ But why? “ He questioned softly as he cupped her cheek, “ Because! They didn’t like the person I became. They thought it was stupid. I wanted to even think about majoring in Art. I was exiled from my own family because Art was my choice of career. “ Y/n began explaining.

She sighed, “ It didn’t help as I progressed through my career either. They caught wind of us dating and weren’t happy. Said you were an idiot, a fool, and- and just a dumbass using me for sex. I- I couldn’t take it anymore! I was sick and tired of being ridiculed my entire life. So I cut them out of my life like I should’ve many, many years ago. “

“ I’m so sorry. “ Aidan whispered, “ I didn’t mean to pry.

“ It’s okay. You didn’t know, but now you do. “ Y/n replied as she hastily wiped her cheeks.

“ Why don’t we play some Mario kart? “

[cyndavilachase]

I’m Looking Forward Now 💖Thank you and good bye

So, it’s been a little over a week since Steven Universe Future ended… 

I’ve been hesitant to write this, honestly, but I’m tired of holding myself back from properly expressing myself in fear of appearing overly invested in the media I consume, even in private. Writing helps me organize my thoughts and feelings, and I feel like these thoughts in particular may resonate with many, so I want to share them. I want to talk about what Steven Universe has done for me personally, both as an artist, and as a person.

I’ve been around since the day the first episode of the original series aired. I actually remember when Steven Universe was just a logo on Wikipedia’s “List of Upcoming Cartoon Network Shows” list, back when I was a freshman in high school. It piqued my interest, but when commercials finally dropped for it, I thought it was going to be bad because of the way marketing handled introducing Steven as a likeable character. There was still something about it that made me want to give it a chance though, so I went online and watched the pilot before the first episode's release. I was hooked immediately. I knew I was going to love it, and I did. I fell so absolutely in love with Steven as a character, and the world that he and the gems lived in. I became obsessed. I was always so excited for new episodes to come out. Little did I know what else it would do for me as I went through my adolescence alongside it.

As the show progressed, it was evident that what I wanted out of a western animated childrens’ cartoon was finally coming into fruition: this show was becoming serialized. There was continuity, there was plot, there was character development-- it was getting deep. It was pushing the groundwork that Adventure Time laid out even further (thank you, Adventure Time).  

I will give credit where credit is due: earlier western childrens’ cartoons I grew up with like Hey Arnold, and Rugrats, among others, also touched on heavy topics, but Steven Universe was able to take similar ideas (and even more complex ones, concerning mental health and relationships) and expand on them outside of contained episodes and/or short arcs. These themes, which were a part of the show’s overarching story, spanned across its entirety. Continuity was rampant. 

What did this mean? It meant kids cartoons didn’t have to be silly and fun all the time and characters weren’t just actors playing a part in 11-minute skits. Steven and the gems would remember things that happened to them, and it affected them and how they would function and play a part in their story. This was a huge deal to me as a teenager. I always wanted the cartoons I grew up with featuring kid characters to feel more. In my own work, I often felt discouraged when combining a fun, cutesy western art style with themes as dark or layered as anime would cover. I always thought it had to be one or the other because an audience wouldn’t take a combination of the two seriously enough, based on discussions I had with classmates, friends, and online analysis I read at the time. Steven Universe proved to me otherwise. This show was opening the door for future cartoons exploring in-depth, adult concepts. I felt so seen as a kid, and was inspired to stick with what I love doing.

I was actually very worried about the show’s survival. It was in fact immensely underrated and the fandom was miniscule. Then in 2014, JailBreak dropped, and it’s popularity exploded. Part of it was because of the complex plot and the themes it was covering like I mentioned, but also because of its representation. 

I remember when fandom theorized that Garnet was a fusion due to grand, tragic reasons. Turns out, she’s simply a metaphor for a very loving w|w relationship. This was huge. I cannot stress how important it is that we continue to normalize healthy canon queer relationships in childens’ media, and Steven Universe finally was the first to do that proper. Introducing these themes offers the chance for a kid to sit there and ask themselves, “Why is this demonized by so many people?” I asked myself exactly that. Ruby and Sapphire were my cartoon LGBT rep. They were the first LGBT couple I ever ecstatically drew fanart of. I was dealing with a lot of internalized homophobia at the time, and they showed me that I was allowed to love women and feel normal about it. The process of overcoming this was a long one, but they played a part in my very first steps into becoming comfortable with my sexuality. I could go on and on about it’s representation in general-- how it breaks the mold when it comes to showcasing a diverse set of characters in design, in casting, and in breaking gender roles. It’s focus on love and empathy. Steven himself is a big boy, but he's the protagonist, and the show never once makes fun of his weight, or any other bigger characters for that matter. It wasn’t hard to see why the fandom had grown so large.

Fandom was always a joy for me. It was a hobby I picked up when I was in middle school, like many of us here did. I would always cater my experience to fun, and fun only. I only started getting more deeply involved in SU’s fandom when I had just turned into an adult. During the summer of 2016, between my first and second year of college, I drew for the show almost every day non-stop when the Summer of Steven event was going on and posted them online. This was a form of practice for me in order to become not just more comfortable with experimenting with my art, but also to meet new artists, make new friends, and learn to interact with strangers without fear. I dealt with a ton of anxiety when I was in high school. When I was a senior applying to art school for animation, I decided I was going to overcome that anxiety. I made plans to take baby steps to improve myself over the course of my 4 years of college. Joining the fandom, while unforeseen, was definitely a part of that process. I started feeling more confident in sharing my ideas, even if they were fan-made. I fell in love with storyboarding after that summer, when I took my first storyboarding class, and genuinely felt like I was actually getting somewhere with all of this. I remember finally coming to a point in my classes where I could pitch and not feel hopelessly insecure about it. I was opening up more to my friends and peers. 

But this process, unfortunately, came to a screeching halt. 

My life completely, utterly crumbled under me in the Fall of 2017 due to a series of blows in my personal life that happened in the span of just a couple weeks. My mental health and sense of identity were completely destroyed. All of that confidence I had worked for-- completely ruined. I was alone. I nearly died. My stay at college was extended to 4 and half years, instead of the 4 I had intended. I lost my love for animation-- making it, and watching it. I could no longer watch Steven Universe with the same love I had for it beforehand. It’s a terrible thing, trying to give your attention to something you don’t love anymore, and wanting so desperately to love again. I dropped so many things I loved in my life, including the fandom.

Healing was a long and complicated road. I continued to watch the show all the way up until Change Your Mind aired in the beginning of 2019, and while I still felt empty, that was definitely a turning point for me with it’s encapsulation of self-love. I was hoping James Baxter would get to work on Steven Universe since he guest-animated on Adventure Time, and it was incredible seeing that wish actually come true. The movie came out and while I enjoyed it and thought highly of it, I was still having issues letting myself genuinely love things again, old and new. It was especially difficult because cartoons were my solace as a kid, when things got rough at home. I remember feeling sad because the show ended, and not getting the chance to love it again like I used to while it was still going.

By the time Steven Universe Future was announced, I was finally coming around. I was genuinely starting to feel excitement for art and animation again. I wasn’t expecting there to be a whole new epilogue series, but happily ever after, there we were! Prickly Pear aired, and the implications it left in terms of where the story was going did it. I was finally ready to let myself take the dive back into fandom in January of this year. My art blew up, something I wasn’t expecting considering my 2-year hiatus. Following this, I was invited into a discord server containing some of the biggest writers, artists, editors, and analysts in the fandom. I had no idea there were so many talented people in the fandom, some already with degrees, some getting their degrees-- creating stuff for it on the side just for fun. The amount of passion and productivity level here is insane, and so is the amount of discussion that has come out of it.

I didn’t realize it at first, but it was actually helping me gain back the courage to share ideas. I lost my confidence in pitching while I was taking the time to heal, and graduating meant there would no longer be a classroom setting I could practice in. This group helped immensely. 

I have made so many friends through this wonderful series, and I have so many fond memories talking to like-minded creatives, getting feedback and a myriad of sources for inspiration, as well as all of the memes and jokes and weekly theorizations that came about as we all waited on the edges of our seats for episodes to air. I needed this so badly, I needed to get back in touch with my roots, when I would go absolutely hog-wild over a cartoon I loved with people who loved it as much I did. Future has been a blessing for me in this way. I graduated feeling like I was back at square-one, but now I feel like I’m on my way again.

It’s 2020 and while I’m doing great right now, I am honestly still recovering from the total exhaustion that followed after graduating a few months ago, and finally leaving the campus where my life fell apart behind. Needless to say, watching Future was like looking into a mirror. Watching one of my favorite characters of all time-- one that grew up with me-- go through so many of the same things I went through not too long ago was absolutely insane to watch unfold. It’s such an important thing too, to show a character go through the process of breaking down over trauma and all the nasty things that come with it, and to have them go on the road to healing. Steven got that therapy. He wasn’t blamed. The gems were called out. The finale was everything I could have ever hoped for. The catharsis I experienced watching it was out of this world.

As I continue my own healing journey, I will always look up to the storyboard artists, revisionists, and designers that I have been following over these past 7 years, as well as the new ones introduced in Future. It's been such a joy watching these artists release their promo art for episodes, talk about their experiences working on the show, and post the work they've done for it alongside episodes airing.

Thank you Rebecca Sugar, the Crewniverse, and the fans, for making this such a truly wonderful and unique experience. Thank you for reminding me that I am, and always will be, an artist, a cartoonist, and a fan. Thank you, my followers, for the overwhelmingly positive response to my artwork. I have had so much fun interacting and discussing the show with you all again over these past few months. Steven Universe and it’s fandom will always have a special place in my heart, and it will always be a classic that I will return to for comfort and inspiration for decades to come. I am sad that the cartoon renaissance is over, but so many doors have been opened thanks to this show. I am so, so excited to see what this show will inspire in the future, and I hope one day I get the opportunity to be a part of that. 

Goodbye Steven, thank you for everything. I wish you healing, and I wish Rebecca and the team a well-deserved rest. ♥️

-Cynthia D.