#and it was specifically after another coworker that doesn’t like that music left | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

Text

Sometime Around Midnight

Ezekiel Reyes x Reader

Request by Anon: I have a request (feel free to ignore). I’ve been recently listening to that song “Sometime Around Midnight” by Airborne Toxic Event, and basically I think a fic based around those lyrics would fit ANY Mayan. I’d love to see someone give it a go :)

Warnings: language, angst, alcohol & smoking, EZ being a Sad Boy

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this request for a little while now. I was trying to figure out which of our boys I wanted to write it for, but then when I started drafting it for EZ this sorta just fell out of me haha. It doesn’t follow the song exactly, but I hope you like it nonetheless! Enjoy some angst for the Boy Scout xo

EZ Taglist: @ly--canthrope @noz4a2 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @mayans-sauce @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @amandinesblogofstuff @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop (If you want to be tagged in any of my stuff or stuff for specific characters lemme know!)

They had warned you that it was a bad idea to get involved with any of the guys when you started working at the clubhouse as the new bartender. It had been a playful warning, but a very truthful one. And you hadn’t planned on crossing the lines of professionalism. You’d worked as a waitress and a bartender in what felt like a million different places, and you never had an issue when it came to keeping your personal and professional life separate. Don’t get involved with coworkers, and don’t get involved with the regular patrons. Working at the clubhouse meant that the guys from the MC fell into both categories simultaneously. Which you would’ve thought would make it easier to keep yourself from getting involved with any of them.

Yet somehow you found yourself making one little exception after another when it came to Ezekiel. There was just something about him that was hard to say no to. On top of the fact that you could stare at him all day and night without getting bored, there was something in the way that he spoke and smiled that made you feel safe. So you found yourself staying after everyone else had long since gone home to share one last beer with him. Letting him take you home on his bike turned into letting him come inside for a few minutes, which eventually turned into letting him stay the night. It all snowballed and you could’ve stopped it, but you didn’t want to. You knew it was a bad idea but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious. Both of you agreed to that. Neither of you were really in a place in life where you were up for intense commitment. It should’ve been fine. But, despite the fact that it wasn’t supposed to be serious, there was something in you that couldn’t handle the way that he would still get strung out over his ex. You knew that pretty much everyone had that one person that was more difficult to get over than the rest, you just didn’t think that EZ’s was going to be someone who was still in his life so frequently. You knew that you had no right to be jealous, after all it wasn’t like the two of you were boyfriend and girlfriend, but it was still something that you couldn’t stomach. So you cut the cord. It hurt, and you didn’t really want to do it, but you knew that for the sake of your own sanity you had to.

That was two months ago. And in the span of that two months, you never came to the bar on nights that you weren’t working. You didn’t want to make it awkward for yourself, or for Ezekiel, or for anyone else, for that matter. But things felt like they were getting back to some kind of normalcy. So, when Bishop told you that he was going to have someone else work the bar when a couple other charters came to town, but that you should still come and have a good time, you figured there wasn’t going to be a better opportunity to feel out the situation.

You walked through the doors of the clubhouse to the party already being in full swing. You smiled at the sight of so many people enjoying themselves in one spot. There were a lot of faces that you had become familiar with in your time working the bar there, but there were some new ones too. Carefully maneuvering your way through people to get to the bar, you smiled at the young man that was doling out drinks as fast as he could.

“A beer when you get a chance, Ricky,” you said with a laugh.

He looked over at you, eyebrows raising when he realized it was you, “Shit, Y/N. Not used to seeing you on that side of the bar,” he chuckled, “Or seeing you all prettied up.”

You laughed as you snatched the bottle away from him, “Very funny.”

“Nah, I mean it. You look good.”

You smiled and took a sip of your beer, “Thank you.”

As you were scanning the room, Bishop appeared in front of you. There was a soft smile on his face as he pulled you into a hug, “Glad you came, sweetheart.”

You smiled as your cheek rested against his kutte for a moment, “Thanks for the invite,” you paused, “You sure it’s alright that I’m here?”

There was no hesitation as he nodded, “Of course. This is your bar, too.”

That was the last comment either of you made about it as you strayed to other topics. You had him tell you about some of the people that you didn’t know—the faces that you didn’t quite recognize. He was more than happy to dish out whatever details you wanted to know, enjoying that you wanted to know as much as you could about the people that came in and out of the clubhouse.

When he got flagged down into another conversation, he left you with a gentle kiss on your temple before slipping off into a new cluster of people. You leaned back against the bar, happy to just listen to the music and watch the party continue to unfold into the controlled chaos that it always was.

You were just about to ask Ricky for another beer when a young man appeared on the stool next to yours. You could feel his eyes on you and you looked over at him with a smile. His patch said Oakland and you instantly ran through what you could remember of their roster as you tried to put a name to his face.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked with a smile.

You nodded, turning your body so that you were facing him, “Sure can,” you glanced over at your friend, “Another beer, please, Ricky. Put it on this guy’s tab,” you gestured to the biker sitting next to you with a laugh.

He laughed as he held out his hand to introduce himself, “Manny. Name’s Manny.”

You chuckled as you shook his hand, “Nice to meet you, Manny. I’m Y/N,” you scanned him up and down, “I haven’t met you before, have I?”

He shook his head, “No ma’am. Just transferred from Spokane.”

“Ah,” you nodded, “that’s why I don’t recognize you.”

“You know everyone else down here?”

“Almost,” you laughed.

The two of you sat at the bar and talked. You hadn’t expected to get so wrapped up in conversation with him, but it was a welcome surprise. He seemed sweet, funny. You noticed the way that he was slowly but surely leaning in closer the longer the two of you talked. You pretended that you didn’t notice, soaking up the attention while you could have it. In another day or so he’d be gone and you’d be left to your own devices again. Besides, it was nice to feel wanted.

Manny was halfway through a sentence when he stopped, seeing someone behind you. A grin broke out across his face as he stood up and walked over to whoever it was. You turned to see Ezekiel standing there. He greeted his MC brother with a hug, but his eyes were glued on you the whole time.

“’Sup, Reyes? Was wondering if I was gonna see you around here tonight,” he chuckled, blissfully unaware of the tension.

“I’m never far,” he looked back and forth between the two of you before his eyes settled on Manny, “Mind if I steal Y/N for a minute? Gotta talk to her about something.”

He nodded, stepping back out of the way, “Sure thing,” he turned to you and flashed a smile, “You know where to find me if you wanna put another drink on my tab.”

You laughed and nodded, “Thank you.”

EZ waved for you to follow him and the two of you made your way out of the intensity of the clubhouse and out onto the deck. The air felt a little more breathable. This was the first time the two of you had any one-one-one time in months, and you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“So,” you sipped on your drink as you leaned back against the railing, “how’ve you been?”

EZ nodded, and you could see it in his eyes that there were a million thoughts running through his mind, “I’ve been alright. You?”

You shrugged, “Pretty good. Can’t complain,” you paused, “What’d you wanna talk about?”

The words got caught in his throat. When he’d seen the way you were talking and laughing with Manny, he felt a sliver of what it must’ve been like for you when he would come to you torn up about Emily. He knew that he had no right to be jealous, and for the entire night he was fighting the urge to go up and say something to you, to Manny, but his willpower finally wore out.

You stepped in closer and you gently rested one hand on his arm, “Hey, you good?”

Everything about you in that moment was distracting. He couldn’t look into your eyes without being hit with an onslaught of memories. The warmth radiating from your touch, and the wave of perfume that gently washed over him as you stepped in nearly knocked him off his feet. Every single memory of you that he tried not to think about, that he tried not to replay over and over again, hit him like a freight train.

He shut his eyes and shook his head, “I’m fine.”

You cocked one eyebrow, knowing him too well to believe what he was saying to you, “You sure?”

“I miss you,” he said, not able to look you in the eye as he did.

You couldn’t help but to let out a hollow laugh as you shook your head, “Do you really? Or did you just not like seeing me talk to someone else?”

He pressed his lips into a line, knowing that you could easily see through him. He sighed, “He’s not gon—”

You cut him off, “Don’t,” your tone was kind, but still firm, “EZ, I think it’s probably better for the both of us if you don’t finish that sentence. I don’t say shit to you when I see you with Vicki’s girls all over you, right?”

“That’s not the same as a patch talking to you.”

“So that gives you the right to stick your nose into it?”

He knew it was a losing argument. He really didn’t know where he thought the discussion was going to go. Every logical bone in his body had been telling him to not bother walking up to you in the first place, but he did anyway. And now he was paying for it.

“I wanna be friends with you, Ezekiel,” you told him honestly, “So when you’re ready for that, let me know. But I don’t think you are yet,” you stepped in and gave him a quick hug, “Enjoy the party.”

You walked back inside, and took a deep breath as the door shut behind you. You walked over to the bar and got another beer before locating Manny again, eager to pick up where you had left off. You sauntered over to where he was sitting on the couch, letting out a laugh as he pulled you down onto his lap. You lazily draped one arm around his shoulder as you let yourself get roped into the conversation that they were having.

You had never been the kind of person to go out of your way to try and make someone else feel jealous. That wasn’t what this was about. However, you couldn’t deny the fact that seeing that pang of envy present in EZ’s face as he walked in and saw you draped over someone from a different charter, it felt good. You knew that beautiful mind of his was replaying the nights when the two of you had been in very much the same position, and how he cost it all for himself.

Despite the fact that it was starting to creep into the small hours of the morning, the clubhouse was far from empty. That wasn’t particularly unusual, but you just wanted to be home, in a room that wasn’t weighted with the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke. However, the warmth emanating from Manny’s hand resting lightly on your thigh wasn’t something you really wanted to give up just yet.

You leaned in a little closer to his ear, “How attached to this party are you?”

He chuckled, looking you in the eye, “What’s your offer?”

“I’ve got beer at my place that won’t make you keep running up your tab,” you trailed your nails lightly along the back of his neck.

“In that case,” he laughed as he tried to play off the fact that you had just sent a chill through his entire body, “I’m not attached to this party at all.”

You laughed as you hopped up off his lap, holding your hand out to pull him off the couch. He let you tug him along towards the door with a smile, trying to toss money onto the surface of the bar to cover his tab before leaving. Ricky let out a whistle and a laugh as you made your way towards the door and you couldn’t help but to shake your head.

The two of you walked down the steps of the clubhouse and Manny looked over at you, a smirk on his face, “You up for a ride?” he paused, “On the bike, I mean.”

You chuckled, nodding as you followed him, “I think so.”

He handed over his helmet with a smile, and you let him adjust it for you as you explained the way to get to your place. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see EZ standing on the deck, eyes glued to the scene unfolding in front of him. You tried not to let your eyes linger on him for too long. Before you knew it, you were hooking your leg over the back of Manny’s bike and wrapping your arms around his waist, settling against him as he pulled out of the lot.

EZ could still hear the rumble of the motorcycle as he took off down the steps to head towards his trailer. Angel had watched the entire scene play out and he went after his brother who he knew was about to do something undoubtedly stupid.

“Yo, Boy Scout, where you going?”

“She can’t just fucking…” his voice trailed off, not knowing how to end the sentence as his feet slowed to a stop.

“You gotta let that shit go, ‘mano,” Angel caught up to him.

EZ heard what his brother was saying, but he was too busy reliving every night that the two of you had peeled out of the clubhouse just like that. The thought of you having those moments with someone else knocked the wind out of him. He thought about how things unraveled, about how you had let him go because he wasn’t strong enough to do it himself. He knew he had no right to feel like he should be chasing after you, but he still wanted to. There was nothing more for either of you to say, but watching you ride off like that with someone else left a knot in his stomach.

“EZ,” Angel piped up again, clapping him on the back, “C’mon. There’s nothing for you out here right now. Let’s just go back inside.”

EZ let his brother drag him back to the clubhouse, back into the midst of the chaos. It felt emptier now, though. He wondered if that feeling would ever subside, if he would ever be able to fix what he’d broken.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes x you #ez reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes imagine #ezekiel reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes fanfic #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

232 notes · View notes

gingeralepdf · 4 years ago

Text

Walk On By - Part 2

A/N: yay!!!!!! another installment in the shroomrry cinematic universe is here!! i want to say a huge thank you to el ( @harrytheehottie ) and brailey ( @daydreamsofh ) for being excellent beta readers and supporters. <3 <3

and thank you to everyone who has shown my writing love. i truly appreciate it so much. i hope you like this part just as much as the first one. :-)

if you haven’t read part 1, catch up here!!

🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄

****CONTENT WARNING**** alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use

You’re simply buying magic mushrooms from Harry. However, if you keep running into each other, is it going to stay that simple?

word count: just under 5k

**September 15th, 1977, Los Angeles, California**

The brakes on your car squeal as you pull into the last empty spot along the curb and shift into park. The music from your radio comes to an abrupt stop when you turn the key back to shut the engine off. Your head hits the headrest behind you before you empty your lungs into the silence.

Cars drive past on the street to your left. It’s just past five thirty, so all of the after work traffic is in full swing.

You’ve been avoiding this errand for two weeks now. There’s a record that you’ve been wanting to get your hands on ever since one of your coworkers played it at a work function. After looking through shelf after shelf in all of your favorite shops in L.A., and even making some calls to shops in surrounding areas, they’ve all come up short.

This seems to be your very last resort. Right across the street, sandwiched between a donut shop and a hair salon, is Jupiter House Records. From what you remember, this shop has a really good selection and variety, but the handful of unpleasant interactions you’ve had with the owner have been enough to make you look somewhere else. You’ve been stubbornly avoiding this place for years. Now you have a whole other reason for not wanting to spend hours in this store digging through to find your favorites or discover new ones.

Harry works here.

You haven’t seen him since he showed up on your doorstep to return your address book. The conversation you had with Jenny when she came home from work that evening plays through your mind again.

Both of you plop down on opposite sides of the couch in your living room. You sigh and take a big sip from your glass of wine before explaining the whole interaction to her, starting from the moment you opened the door to the moment you saw him drive away in his car.

Jenny grins. The only sound in the room comes from the ticking of the clock on the wall as you wait for her response. “I think he likes you.”

You squint. “That’s what you’re taking away from all of that?”

Her eyes widen and she springs forward, almost sloshing the wine out of her glass when she sets it on the coffee table. “Oh, so you’re telling me he saw the ‘If lost please return to..’ in your address book and decided to make a trip to our house to return it to you in person, when he could have just sent it in the mail?”

You can feel a crease forming between your eyebrows and you take in a sharp breath, fully prepared to counter her point, but she barrels through.

“And he wanted to ‘make sure you were okay’. Out of all the dealers that we’ve met, how many have just shown up at our houses to check up on us? Zero.”

You press your lips together. You can’t argue the fact that this alone sets Harry apart. However, this doesn’t mean he likes you. Maybe it just means that he’s the kind of person that goes the extra mile for the people he does business with. He could have easily left you and Jen sitting on the sidewalk after the concert, but he decided to help, to do what any other good-natured person would do.

“And let’s not forget how he threw the paper on the doorstep so you wouldn’t have to walk all the way down the driveway.” Jenny clutches her chest and swoons.

Scoffing at the way she’s adding dramatics, you challenge, “How do you know he didn’t show up here to see you?”

“He didn’t ask about me, did he?”

“No,” you begrudgingly mumble into your glass.

She grabs her glass from the coffee table and gives you a knowing look. She’s made her point, and the more it lingers like the aftertaste of wine, the more conflicted you become.

You’ve spent more idle moments than you’d like to admit since then thinking about the night you were sitting outside of the Forum. Thinking about what possessed you to lean in and study his face so closely. Was it solely the effects of the drugs? If that’s the case, then why do you want to go back to that moment so badly? And why didn’t Harry pull away? Did he really blush when you were staring at him? Was his heart really racing when you gave him a hug, or was that just your wild imagination?

The honking of a car brings you out of your thoughts. You take a deep breath and trill your lips. There’s a slight break in traffic. If you don’t get out of your car and cross the street now, you fear you’ll stay here stuck in your thoughts all evening.

With a huff, you rip your keys from the ignition and push your door open. You cross the street, walking with a purpose, and make it to the sidewalk.

The full strength of your nerves doesn’t hit you until you’re just in front of the store and the glass door swings out with a simultaneous chime of a bell. Your heart drops from your chest to your stomach and you freeze on the sidewalk to avoid colliding with the man exiting the shop.

When he stops to hold the door open for you, it takes you a moment to gather yourself. You mutter a ‘thank you’ as your hand firmly grips the cool metal of the door handle. Almost like you’re using it as a crutch to get you through the threshold.

Your shoes meet the shaggy mustard yellow carpet, matted down by years of customer traffic.

A woman that looks about your age greets you from behind a counter to your right. You return her half smile and she goes back to flipping through the magazine on the counter in front of her. The nametag on her floral shirt reads ‘Nora’. Behind her is a door with a red ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ sign taped to it.

Underneath the counter that she’s leaning on is a glass case holding records and cassette tapes, all marked ‘deluxe’ or ‘limited edition’. Spread out next to them are a few t-shirts, buttons, and stickers with the store logo printed on them.

You weren’t expecting it to be so quiet. Right now it seems like you and Nora are the only people in the store. The coast is clear. You can relax a bit. The adrenaline rush you were feeling on the other side of the door has now been replaced by the whirring of the air vents and David Bowie’s “Queen Bitch” playing over the speakers.

You turn to your left to take in the rest of the store, meandering into the first row of record shelves.

The large window taking up the entire front wall lets in plenty of evening sun that warms your skin through your shirt. More shelves, each one three tiers deep, line the rest of the walls and create aisles in the middle of the room.

Signs hanging from the ceiling above each section indicate the genre. The one you’re standing next to is labeled ‘new releases’ with a smaller font that reads ‘alpha by artist’. Other sections are labeled country, rock, disco, classical. Your eyes land on the back corner of the store where the funk, soul, and jazz sections are.

You make your way over while pulling your sleeves up to your elbows.

Unsure of which specific section the record you’re looking for will be in, you decide to start on one end of the corner and search all the way through to the other in hopes of finding it.

You fall into a familiar routine of searching through the first tier, then the second, leaning over to search through the top tier, and then taking a step over to start the whole process again.

Once you’re about halfway through the soul section, the bell on the door chimes again. You can’t be bothered to look, not wanting to lose your place.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.”

Goddamnit. Your hands freeze their movements and your heart begins to race all over again. You know exactly who just walked through that door.

“Harry,” Nora admonishes, “I finally have a date after two months and you’re gonna make me late.”

Harry’s mumbled response is drowned out by the loud creak of the door behind the counter, but judging by Nora’s gasp and the unmistakable thwack of a magazine, maybe it’s better left between the two of them.

You begin to slowly file through records again, this time not paying much attention to what you’re doing. More-so to give your hands something to do and appear busy while trying to hear the rest of their conversation.

Nora sighs, “It’s been really slow today. Hopefully it’s a slow night for you.” All you hear is some shuffling before she adds, “Oh, boss wanted me to remind you not to play the music too loud.”

“Did he? Dunno what he’s talking about,” Harry says, feigning innocence.

Nora laughs, “Whatever.”

The next thing you hear is the jingling of keys and footsteps across the carpet.

Harry raises his voice from the back room, “Are you gonna punch out?”

“Will you do it for me? I’ve gotta go.”

“Sure.”

The bell on the door rings and Nora yells from the doorway, “I left three boxes in the back for you to restock!”

“Oh thanks,” Harry yells back with sarcastic enthusiasm.

“Bye,” she sings as she walks out.

The door slams behind her. The bell’s high pitched ringing seems to hang in the air.

Silence falls on the room when the song playing over the speakers stops suddenly, making the room quiet enough to hear the traffic outside. You hear a needle drop and after a few seconds, the opening guitar notes of “Can You Get to That” by Funkadelic begin to play. The corners of your mouth turn down to fight a smile when the volume is promptly turned up much louder than what it was when you walked in.

You take a sharp breath in, realizing that you’re going to have to turn around at some point. Surely you can’t just stay in this corner and keep your back turned to him until the place closes. You don’t know what you’re going to say to him. Will he even recognize you after not seeing you for weeks?

There’s not much time to decide what to do when the sound of footsteps approaching on the carpet is getting closer to you.

Your heart leaps into your throat when you hear his voice.

“Finding everything alright?”

You turn your head to the left.

Harry is standing a few shelves apart from you with a box propped between the shelf and his hip. The sunlight from the window shines through the ends of his hair and the sleeves of his white t-shirt when he grabs a record from the box and reaches out to carefully wedge it back into the right place. You scan down to where his shirt is tucked into a pair of dark brown corduroy pants, and further down to see a pair of dirty white sneakers peeking out from the ends of the flares. When he turns his head to the box again, you notice that his mustache is significantly thinner from the last time you saw each other.

Heat rushes up your neck and onto your face when he glances up at you.

His hand pauses in the air and his eyebrows raise slightly before the corners of his mouth do the same, revealing just a hint of his dimples. His head tilts back and he blinks in surprise. “Oh… hi.”

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding when he addresses you by name. Mirroring his smile and turning your shoulders to face him, you reply, “Hi. I… didn’t know you worked here.”

A flat out lie, but thankfully he doesn’t seem too suspect about it.

He frowns and looks down at his shirt, pulling it out in front of him to reveal his nametag. “Hm. M’ afraid I do,” he says flatly.

A breathy chuckle leaves you, amused at the way he’s effortlessly making sarcastic remarks like this with you and his coworker. Quite different from the stiffly awkward interactions you’ve had with him. It’s like you’re seeing him in his natural environment. Him being at ease is having the same effect on you.

“Do you need help finding anything?” he asks, continuing his previous actions, this time with a soft smile.

“Actually, yes,” you clear your throat, “I’m looking for this specific record. I’ve looked all over for it by now. I’m pretty sure it should be in one of these sections if you have it, but...” you trail off as you cast a glance over your shoulder to the shelves you have yet to go through.

“I can take a look in our inventory. Save you some time?”

Of course. Why didn’t you just ask about that when you first walked in? “Sure. That would be great.”

Harry hoists the box into the crook of his arm with a faint grunt and you follow him over to the counter. After setting the box at the end of the countertop, he walks to the other end and reaches underneath the register, pulling out a large beat up binder with ‘inventory’ written on the spine.

It lands on the counter with a plop, probably due to the huge stack of paper inside, separated by multicolored tabs.

“What’s the artist’s name?” he asks after opening the binder to the first page.

“The Equatics.”

He pulls on the ‘A’ tab and folds it over.

“Oh, sorry, it’s Equatics with an ‘E’.”

He tuts and shakes his head before tracing his finger down and pulling on the ‘E’ tab. “Equatics with an ‘E’,” he mumbles.

You fold your lips between your teeth.

Now you’re thankful for the loud music filling the room as you’re standing wordlessly in front of the counter watching him flip through the pages of the inventory binder. Hair hangs in front of his face as his head is tilted down to scan over the pages, all filled with scribbles, arrows, and notes in the margins written in blue, black, and red ink. It all means nothing to you, especially looking at it upside down. You can only imagine how tedious it must be to keep up with.

With his left hand pressed flat against the counter, the expanse of his arm is right in front of you. Hopefully he can’t feel your eyes surveying his tattoos, at least the ones you can see from this angle. A small cross on his hand, an anchor on his wrist, the tail of a mermaid, a delicate rose near his elbow, a heart just beneath the hem of his t-shirt.

He inhales sharply and clears his throat into his fist, “Looks like we do have it. It’s actually in our as-is section.” As he’s speaking, he spins the binder in your direction and slides his finger almost to the bottom of the page to point out where it lists the artist, album title, and the section it’s in.

Despite the relief that comes with finally finding something you’ve been searching for, your face falls a bit. You know that ‘as-is’ is often just a nice way of saying that something is heavily used. “Does that mean it’s… damaged?”

Harry hums and tilts his head to the side, not meeting your eyes until he responds.

“Not always. Honestly we’re pretty much required to put stuff in that section even if it’s just the sleeve that’s messed up. Sometimes the record itself is still in great condition. You can still find some good stuff in there.”

“Okay. Where’s the as-is section?” You don’t remember seeing a sign for it when you walked in, unless you just overlooked it.

“Right. It's, uh, down this hallway here. Kind of hidden.”

Harry rounds the end of the counter and you follow him over to a doorway covered with a ruby red beaded curtain. Harry pulls it to the side and steps through first, pausing to hold the curtain back for you. You mutter a ‘thanks’ and step into a long hallway that extends to your right.

He releases the curtain, letting the beads crash together, before starting down the hallway.

Both walls are lined with floor to ceiling shelves full of cassette tapes, with each row of shelving just tall enough to fit their size. There’s so much packed in this long stretch of narrow space, like a condensed, fluorescent-lit cornucopia.

“I had no idea all of this was back here,” you comment, slightly dumbfounded that you probably would have overlooked this hallway entirely if it hadn’t been pointed out to you.

“Yeah, lots of people think it’s off limits because of the curtain. I need to put some signs up or something.”

As you’re walking behind Harry, you realize you were too distracted before to see print on the back of his shirt, let alone make out what it said. Bold purple font reads ‘MY MIND IS UP ON THE MOUNTAINS’ with a smaller font at the bottom that reads ‘(and i didn’t even have to climb)’. The words are surrounded by a sun, a few flowers, a picture of a mountain, and two mushrooms on the bottom.

A smirk creeps onto the corner of your mouth at how incredibly on the nose it seems for him. It makes you wonder if anyone here knows about his other job, or if he’s hiding in plain sight.

Once you’re both about a third of the way down the hallway, there’s a gap in the shelves on the right filled by a nondescript doorway.

“Here we are.” Harry stops and reaches on the other side of the doorway to flip the light switch before stepping back and gesturing for you to walk in first.

You step into a small room. It only contains two long folding tables pushed against opposite walls. Rather than fancy, neat shelves, the records here are stored in milk crates and cardboard boxes lined up on the tops of the tables. It almost looks like you’ve come across a garage sale.

You furrow your eyebrows and purse your lips to the side as you walk up to the first box at the end of the table closest to the door. When you reach in, Harry speaks up.

“I could help you look for a bit, if you want.”

Harry’s now leaning against the doorframe, running a hand against his jaw. Do you see a slight tinge of pink creeping onto his cheeks as well?

“I don’t really have anything better to do. Plus this section... isn’t really organized,” he continues.

You bring your attention back to the box in front of you, a sharp breath escaping your nose when you turn the Johnny Cash record back to reveal a Mozart one behind it. “I can see that.”

“But if you want to look around by yourself I understand, I can leave you to it,” he says, already slightly backing up into the hallway.

“No, I wouldn’t mind the company. You could take that table and I’ll take this one?” Your own words surprise you as you’re speaking them. Moments ago you had been dreading crossing paths with him again, but now that you’re having a moment that feels comfortable, you find yourself wanting him to stick around longer.

A curiosity is growing in your mind, wondering if Harry is feeling the same way, if that’s why he offered to help, if that’s why he slowly joins you in the room and mirrors your position at the table behind you so you’re not standing back to back.

You both search through the crates without a word, only the faint sound of the music from the front room coming down the hallway. Meanwhile, your thoughts are going back and forth between Jenny insisting that this man likes you and talking yourself out of that idea, insisting that he’s simply being nice, doing his job.

“How have you been?”

The question catches you off guard, taking a moment to realize that he’s actually said it out loud. “Um. I’ve been good. Nothing exciting going on, just working a lot. You?”

“I’m alright, thanks. I’ve been working a lot too. Where do you work? Don’t think I’ve asked you.”

“Do you ever listen to KIIS-FM?”

“Yes?” He responds, possibly thinking that you’re trying to shift the subject.

You smile to yourself, “You’re welcome. I’m a sound engineer there.”

“Oh shit,” he says enthusiastically. “That’s really cool. Do you like it?”

Briefly turning to look at him, your smile grows wider when you read the interest and excitement on his face. An expression you’re seeing for the first time in him, and it's because of something about you. Your heart flutters and you turn back to your table.

“Most days, I do. It can be a real dick fest sometimes though. Not in a good way.”

Despite mumbling the last sentence, Harry seems to still pick it up.

He barks out a laugh. You turn, eyes wide, to see his shoulders shaking and him covering his mouth with his hand.

When he turns back to you, clearly making a lot of effort to compose himself, he places his hand over his heart. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh yeah, the way you laughed really convinced me,” you lightheartedly roll your eyes.

“No it’s just… the way you said it was really funny,” he says, chuckling through his words. He continues, “So you studied engineering at UCLA then?”

Your eyebrows crease as his words hang in the air. You guess it’s not wild to assume that people who live in L.A. have attended UCLA. However, since you’ve never mentioned any kind of schooling to Harry, you can only gather that he’s making that assumption from the UCLA t-shirt you were wearing when he showed up at your house.

“I thought I remembered Jenny mentioning that you both went there.” His tone is cautious now, hesitant even. Like he’s picked up on his own blunder.

You decide to brush over it and simply nod, “Yeah, that’s how we met, actually.”

You return to looking through the crate in front of you. You gasp when you see the familiar red cover of the album you’re looking for.

You feel Harry turn around behind you. “Find it?”

You pull it from the crate. The bold red cover with a blue-grey circle in the middle, running your finger over the lines and arrows creating rings around it with a few stars placed here and there. You turn to smile at Harry, holding up the record in place of an answer, too excited to form words. The paper dust liner crinkles as you slide the plastic disc from the sleeve. Holding it by the edges, you tilt it to the left, to the right, and hold it up closer to the light to inspect it. Your shoulders visibly fall when you spot a long scratch running from the middle to the edge.

“Oh no,” you whisper, bringing the record closer to your face. You lightly run your finger over the scratch. It doesn’t feel rough, you actually can’t feel it at all. A fraction of hope is restored knowing that the scratch isn’t too deep into the grooves. However, there’s no way to know if it’s unplayable unless you actually try to play it.

Harry seems to read your mind. “You could test it out on the player up front if you want.”

“Really?” You spin around, seeming to shock him judging by the way his upper body slightly jerks back. “I mean-- I would appreciate that. If it’s not too much--”

He shakes his head, “It’s not a problem.” He walks toward the door where he waits for you to gather everything up.

The front of the store quiet once you both emerge from the other side of the curtain.

“I liked your choice of work music, by the way,” you say once you’ve both made it back to the counter, hugging your record to your chest.

“Oh yeah, Maggot Brain. S’ a fun album.”

You lean forward to rest your forearms against the smooth wood of the counter, waiting while he takes the record off the player to make room for yours. “Do you listen to a lot of funk music?”

“I do. I’ve never really understood why some people aren’t into it. What’s not to love, right?”

“Exactly! My coworker showed me this album and I think it’s one of my favorites now. It was recorded by this group of high school students in seventy two. They won some studio time in a contest or something and they really made the most of it.”

“Hm. M’ excited to listen to it now.” He stretches his hand out, “I’ll take that.”

You hand over the album. “Could you start it on track two? I think that’s my favorite one.”

“Sure.” He places the record on the player and carefully moves the needle in place.

A warm feeling washes over you when you hear the familiar soft guitar and drum beat at the beginning of the song. You both stand in place as the bass line comes in and all of the instruments’ parts crescendo.

Once the beat drops and the main guitar comes in, Harry turns to you with raised eyebrows and an impressed smile.

“Amazing, right?” you ask through a chuckle.

“It’s really good.”

“I know! And I don’t notice the scratch at all. It sounds perfect.”

“S’ exciting. I’m glad you found it.”

He walks over to where you are and starts to inspect the sleeve, turning it over to read the back. He adopts a similar position as you, forearms resting on the counter as he taps his fingers on his bicep to the beat of the song.

“That guitar part is amazing.”

He’s leaning close enough now that you can see a hint of stubble along his jawline and his upper lip. His cologne, a swirl of vanilla and something else you can’t quite put your finger on. He looks up when you don’t respond and you avert your eyes immediately.

“I think so too,” you mumble.

“I find it crazy how something really amazing can be right in front of you for so long and you never notice it or you just keep missing it.” A pause. “This has been in the back room for… I don’t even know how long, and I probably never would have listened to it if you hadn’t been looking for it.” Another brief pause as he scratches at his chin, seeming to be in deep thought. He shakes his head, “I don’t know. Maybe that’s weird, but I think about that kind of thing a lot.”

“I don’t think it’s weird. That can happen with… so many things, too.”

“Like people.”

His eyes quickly dance over your face. You swear they linger on your lips for a second before returning to meet your eyes.

“Like people,” you repeat. “And I think it is good to think about that stuff from time to time but… it can get overwhelming. Sometimes it could even distract you from the things you’re enjoying now.”

Your eyes do the same motions, glancing all over his face, lingering on his lips, and then back to his eyes. This feels extremely reminiscent of the night you were sitting outside of the Forum, when you were practically nose to nose after you had taken a whiff of his hair. You had been telling yourself that the gravitational pull you felt that night was solely induced by the shrooms. However, you seem to be feeling it again now as your eyes trace over the plane of his cheek, the tip of his nose, the arch of his lip.

A slight crease between his eyebrows slightly contradicts the almost tender look in his eyes. He opens his mouth like he’s about to speak.

Unfortunately he’s interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone on the wall behind him.

You flinch at the sudden noise and Harry huffs in annoyance before clearing his throat into his fist.

He walks over to the player to turn the music down before answering the phone with a simple, clipped “Jupiter House.”

He covers the receiver with his hand and mouths ‘sorry’ to you before holding up a finger and going into the back room, closing the door until it's just cracked behind him.

You release a heavy sigh and rub your temples.

After a short conversation, Harry comes back and hangs up the phone.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbles, untangling the cord from his fingers. “Are you happy with this, then?” He asks, pointing to the record player.

“Uh- yes. Yes. I am.”

You go through the transaction in silence, watching the way Harry slides your record into a brown paper bag and the way he makes your change. At this moment, you’re wishing Harry came with a cartoon thought bubble over his head so you could know what he’s thinking right now. What exactly did he mean when he said ‘like people’? What was he about to say before he was interrupted?

He carefully folds and creases the paper, but instead of handing it over, he pauses, hands poised on the top of the bag.

“Sorry, I forgot something.” He opens the bag again and crouches down behind the counter.

“What--”

Before you can get your question out, his hand reaches into the glass case between you, hovering over the merchandise that you noticed when you first walked in. He picks out a button and a sticker. You hear them drop into the bag before he pops up from behind the counter.

“You didn’t have to--”

“I know.”

His smile and his voice are reassuring, absolving your confusion in a matter of seconds.

“Thanks for your help. It was nice running into you,” you smile, taking the bag and holding the record to your chest once again.

“Take care. I’ll see you around.” He smiles.

You back away from the counter and push open the door. The bell rings in your ears one last time.

*********************************************

thank you so much for reading!!

if you enjoyed part 2, please remember that reblogs and/or nice messages mean the world to fic writers. <3

you can find my masterlist here and my inbox here

-> STAY TUNED FOR PART 3 <-

#shroomrry #my writing #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles reader insert #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #drugs tw #alcohol tw

289 notes · View notes

crystallizedkingdoms · 3 years ago

Text

day 7, and the final day, of @johann-appreciation-week ! aaaa the end of another Johann week. it always seems to fly by so fast! I’m so glad to have participated again, this was so fun to do and I can’t wait for next year :]

context for this fic: this is actually a continuation of this johann appreciation week fic from last year! I’d say it’s kind of needed to (re)read that fic for context, but idk I’m not ur mom. also, I broke my own rule! this fic is based off of TWO mitski songs. bc I’m indecisive. wonderful

today’s song(s): Francis Forever (Bury Me at Makeout Creek, 2014) // Two Slow Dancers (Be the Cowboy, 2018)

word count: 2,463

The Voidfish bathes Johann in a dreamy, blue-purple light as he looks up at it. He’s gotten used to the way its otherworldly light strains his eyes when he stares at it for too long, for he finds the slight sting in his eyes worth the sight he beholds. He stands near the side of the tank rather than right in front of it. He likes looking at different angles, though he can’t explain why.

“Hey, big guy,” he says just loud enough for him and the Voidfish to hear. Now that he knows that the Voidfish can hear. Just chooses to ignore him. Am I still bitter about that? Johann grimaces to himself.

“So, the Candlenights crystal crisis has been averted, so I've heard,” Johann pipes up. He swings a rather large item in his hands idly, feeling too bothered to look down at it at that moment. “The three Reclaimers just came back, and apparently Merle’s arm is all wood now? Boyland… uh, yeah, we lost him there. So… I guess you’ll be getting a pretty big feeding after this day is done.”

Bleak joke, yeah, but Johann just can’t muster up anything else. All he can think about is how he will, of course, be the one to clean up after Boyland. Chuck his records into the tank, play at his funeral some time later after everyone stopped freaking out, live on with another well-liked coworker being dead. Pity, he actually grew fond of Boyland.

“Your friend, however, is perfectly fine,” Johann spits out with a sharp glare to go along with it. His voice is harsh and incredibly vile as he says that. Something peaks out of the almost numb haze he was in. He’s not even sure where such malice came from. He likes Magnus, honestly! He is nice… Even if he did manage to capture the attention of this alien jellyfish before Johann, who has spent a whole year now centring his entire career and practically his fucking life now taking care of this fucking thing—

Despite his rather embarrassing outburst, the Voidfish doesn’t respond. Typical. Johann sighs and leans his back against the cool glass of the tank, lifting up the larger item he held in his right hand. A brandy bottle, gifted to him earlier by Avi for Candlenights. It sends an even tighter frustration down his entire body. He’d nearly forgotten what this whole crystal debacle had interrupted in the first place.

Fucking blew it, Johann exhales with gritted teeth. He was so close to confessing to Avi, to letting him react to the sonata he had made very specifically for him. If only that stupid scientist bastard hadn’t gone rogue and forced the event to halt. Then Avi wouldn’t have been forced to go move the entire moon off course, and Johann finally could’ve gotten some type of answer.

Johann quickly realizes something that makes his blood grow cold. Shit, I left the music box on the table. Avi’s probably forgotten it now, and someone’s probably dumped it in the trash while cleaning, and I don’t have a second copy of it. Fucking hell.

This is… a lot for him. Seething with every breath, Johann hugs the brandy bottle tight against his chest, gripping it so tightly until his palms sting just to stop even the possibility of him crying right then and there. Why did everything have to go so wrong? Could Johann just not have even a single silly confession go his way? On Candlenights no less!

He wonders, briefly, if fate seems to have it out for him to have the worst possible luck in existence. Because fuck this musician in particular, right?

Johann’s eyes begin to sting and he knows it’s not because of the Voidfish’s light. “Fucking damn it,” he chokes out. He hates crying. He hates the very sensation of shuddering lungs and wet eyes, hates the emotions he is bound to release, hates the weakness. He especially hates that once just a little bit comes out, it’s impossible to shove it back in.

And Johann swears he almost gets himself to calm down. His breathing starts to calm after a few gruelling minutes of controlled breathing and listening to the small noises and bubbles the Voidfish makes in its tank. Regardless of his current feelings towards the creature, it does calm him during these times.

“Hey… uh, Johann?” A familiar voice breaks through the silence.

Shit. Johann sucks in a breath and shuffles closer to be behind the tank. It’s Avi.

“Johann! Are you here?” Avi calls out again. “The guards outside said they haven’t seen you leave yet. So you have to be here.”

Deep breaths. You’re fine. You can compose yourself, Johann reassures himself. “I’m here. What do you want?” he asks in his normal, monotone voice. Then he immediately recognizes how dismissive he sounds when he says it like that. Why does he have such a hard time just saying stuff the way he wants them to sound?

“Johann! Uh… where are you?”

“Behind the Voidfish’s tank.”

Avi laughs a little, though he tries to stifle it. It’s such a wonderful sound that makes Johann shake. “Why are you there?” Avi questions, though the gentle laugh slips out even more when he does.

“Just wanted some time alone.”

Avi peers through the tank and through the bright tentacles of the Voidfish to stare at Johann. When he catches Johann’s eyes, his lips turn into a charming smile. Johann’s chest feels hot looking at those lips. “Can I be alone with you?” he asks.

For a moment, staring at that smile. Johann nearly forgets the stress of the day and the stress of the future. He can feel himself being grounded in reality as he stares at Avi through the water. Feeling this lack of stress, Johann slowly inches towards moving closer to Avi, away from the shadowy part of the tank.

Johann’s eyes wander a little downward, then he sees it. The large, intricately carved music box. His gift to Avi.

Seeing the gift, Johann shrinks even further behind the Voidfish, breaking eye contact. His grip is alarmingly tight on the neck of the bottle he held. “That’s not what being alone means, Avi. What do you want?”

Avi frowns at the sudden shift in tone from Johann. That makes him feel bad instantly. Why did I say it like that? I don’t want to be alone.

“I wanted to check in on you. I sorta ditched you when I was called up to go move the base around, then I had to do a bunch of shit afterwards, and I left the gift on the table when you were so nice to bring yours I just—”

“Avi, it’s fine!” Johann insists. “You were just doing your job. That’s fine! It was a world-threatening emergency and why would I be upset that you had to do your job? I’m fine, Avi. I’m…” That stinging sensation in his eyes comes back and he instantly shuts up. If another word comes out of either of them, Johann knows he’s going to lose it.

The two of them stand in silence for a handful of terrible moments. The Voidfish that stands in between them sways its galaxy bell in its tank. Johann wonders if it can sense the tension between them.

“I listened to your gift, Johann.”

Johann releases an audible sob.

“Johann? Shit, are you crying??” Avi immediately pulls away from his side of the glass to run around to Johann’s side.

“No!! No, no I’m not,” Johann lies, but his voice cracks and falters as Avi makes it to his spot in an instant. He considers running around, escaping this terrible chamber, but what good would that be?

When Avi reaches Johann, he wraps his arms around his entire frame and pulls him into a tight hug. That does it for Johann; he breaks down into a weeping as he presses closer into Avi’s well-loved Candlenights sweater. Johann’s arms are still tightly clutching the bottle, so he can’t hug Avi back, but neither of them seem to mind.

“Why are you crying?” Avi whispers into Johann’s ear as softly as he can.

“…Do you hate it?”

Avi pulls away from the hug slightly, then places his free hand on Johann’s cheek to make him look up towards his eyes. “If I hated it, I wouldn’t have brought it all the way down here and be all friendly with you. Besides, why would I hate it? You make the best music in the world, man. How could I hate something as good as this?” he says with that wonderful grin of his.

Johann sinks in on himself. “And do you understand what’s different about yours compared to everyone else’s?” he asks.

“It’s… not the same one you wrote for everyone else. This was more elaborate, more, um, thoughtful. More complex. I don’t know much about making music or music boxes, but you put a lot more effort into it.”

In an attempt to better see Avi’s face, Johann carefully wipes at his own eyes with a free hand. “And you know why?”

“You… like me more?”

Well, at least he got that memo. Johann can’t help but smile a little. Fuck it, why keep stalling? “Avi, I really like you. This was me asking you out on a date!” he finally confesses. This doesn’t stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks. “It was supposed to be something sweet, that you’d listen to it after the party and you could accept or reject me but at least we’d have fun. But then… that stupid fucking Lucas Miller… and now Boyland’s dead. And now I’m making everything awkward.”

When Johann attempts to pull away, Avi doesn’t fight back. Johann rips himself away then carefully places his bottle down near the tank. “So, that’s why I’m crying, for your information. That’s why I’m going to cry some more now when you leave. And I’m gonna put this brandy to good use!” Johann laughs at his rather sad joke.

“Why would I leave?” Avi genuinely asks. His voice is so kind and gentle.

“Because… because I’m a mess that blew this whole thing.”

Avi’s expression towards Johann when he says that is so kind. He looks at the music box in his hand and opens it up. “You know,” he winds up the box as he speaks, “I really enjoy the piece. When did you write it?”

Johann continues to wipe away his tears, though the question shocks him a little. Why hasn’t Avi just rejected him yet? “I, uh, I wrote it back around Midsummer. Wrote it at around 3 AM, just— just thinking about being with you,” he admits. His entire body feels hot now. “I was just starting to accept my crush on you. I just needed something to conceptualize what I was feeling.”

Avi places the wound up music box next to the bottle of brandy. The gentle twinkles of the music box make Johann cringe into himself. Before he can berate himself, Avi asks, “Can you tell me what you were feeling?”

“I was… I am feeling the overwhelming urge for you to hold me right now.”

As Johann says this, Avi moves up to him and takes one hand into his and places his other hand on Johann’s waist. When that gets a trembling gasp out of him, Avi simply mutters into his ear, “Is that all?”

Johann continues, moving his own hand onto Avi’s back, “I want you to look at me. I want you to see me when no one else will. Which is silly, because you already do, but I want it differently.” Avi’s eyes move to meet Johann’s, and he holds that contact in such an endearing way. Fuck, he really is gorgeous, Johann thinks as he stares back in awe.

“And?” Avi prods even further. By now, he’s swaying them both to the music that Johann has written for him. For them. A gentle, slow dance bathed in blue-purple light.

And he has such a nice voice. Conveys himself perfectly. Not like me. But that’s okay.

“And I want you to accept me. I don’t want you to reject me, though I will understand if you do. I still, selfishly, don’t want you to,” Johann sighs. The swaying makes him feel so good. How long could this moment last?

Without any prompting, Johann begs, “If you accept, I want you to kiss me. I don’t care, I know that’s not something you ask when you’re not even actually dating, but I can’t wait, not under this stress, I can’t lose you, I—”

“Can I really kiss you?” Avi asks so excitedly, a sudden sparkle in his dark eyes, though not once stopping their little dance even as the music box slowly winds down to a close.

“Yes, Avi, please.”

Avi doesn’t wait for another signal or any hesitation. His lips meet with Johann’s with a surprising amount of fervour that Johann just cannot help but reciprocate. Johann’s arms make their way to wrap around Avi’s neck to pull him even closer, oh how he wants to be closer.

The two of them stay hidden behind the Voidfish’s tank, having forgotten the creature that floats right beside them. In their little bubble, they just keep kissing like it was the end of the world. It almost was, so they deserve some leniency for that.

When they pull away for air, Johann instantly clings to Avi and hides his face in his shoulder. “Can we stay here?” he pleads. “I don’t want to leave yet. I want to stay here. Keep you for the rest of Candlenights.”

Avi smiles and hugs Johann even tighter. “Yeah, of course. We can stay here as long as we need,” he says with a breathy laugh. “Wow… god, Johann, I just kissed you. I just kissed you! Man, you have no clue how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Johann allows himself to be so lovingly huddled against Avi. “Haha… yeah… I really have no clue. Mind telling me?” he asks.

Now it’s Avi’s turn to feel hot. Johann feels that growing heat against his cheek. That makes him smile with a giddiness he hasn’t felt in a long time. “Ah, I mean, um. Yeah, okay fine, I’ll tell you because you’re having a tough time,” Avi caves in.

The two of them slide down the glass case to comfortably sit down on the floor, leaning against each other as they listen to each other talk. Gentle noises from the Voidfish behind them no longer disturb Johann, as he finally has the time to let his heart and music soar for someone new.

#johann appreciation week #taz johann #taz balance #johavi #my writing

6 notes · View notes

shutteredislands · 4 years ago

Text

REYLO MODERN AU FIC RECS

Hi!! I spent my entire winter break reading reylo fics and I feel like I’ve found some gems! I’m boring and don’t like angst, so most of these are pretty fluffy, however, always read the tags before reading. Anyways, happy reading!

Already Home - College, Roommates, A/B/O, Soulmates AU - Complete - Rated E - 79k

“Oh stop being all Alpha-y.” She flexes her foot, rolling her ankle as if to prove a point, and he doesn’t miss the wince that crosses her expression. “You aren’t my Alpha, and you definitely aren't my soulmate,” she mutters.

He can’t help but let out a dry laugh. “Thank god for small mercies.”

Okay so this is a trope fest but it was so good! I’m not gonna explain the plot in depth because I think going in blind is best for this!

Baby, It's Just Biology - Professor/Student, A/B/O AU - Complete - Rated E - 113k

For Rey Jackson, trying to finish your degree in Biomedical Science at Harvard is difficult enough when you're one of the few Omegas on campus.

It's made even more difficult when your Professor is the one to trigger your heat. You can't help it, it's just your biology.

An Alpha Omega love story.

This is the perfect balance of angst, fluff and pure smut. This one Is a lot angstier than anything else on this list, but you can see every stage of this relationship and I loved it so much! Please read the tags on this one!

I’ve got you (under my skin) - Nanny/Single Parent AU - On Hiatus - Rated E - 81k

“Hi, I’m Rey. I’m here for the—”

“Nanny,” Ben blurts out dazedly, still trying to remember how to form coherent thoughts. “You’re the nanny.”

Her smile hitches up a little wider. “Well, I might be.”

Suddenly, Ben thinks he might be in for a whole new world of problems.

Because Rey Johnson is still most likely the only thing standing between him and disaster, that much hasn’t changed, not by a long shot.

And Ben can’t seem to stop staring at her mouth.

In which Ben hires Rey to watch his son... but he can’t seem to stop watching her.

Okay so I almost never read WIPs, but this one was left off in a pretty good place so don’t worry about cliffhangers or anything. I am a sucker for single dad!Ben so expect more of these. I loved this fic so much and get ready for a SMUTFEST.

Light My Fire - Rivals to Lovers, College, A/B/O AU - Complete - Rated E - 20k

When rivals Ben and Rey break into a professor's office together, it comes out that Rey might not be the Beta she thinks she is.

I’ve never been the biggest reader of enemies to lovers, until this. This was so so so good! I loved their banter so much, and this is another smutfest lol.

Peacock - Fake Dating, Enemies to Lovers, Neighbors AU - Complete - Rated E - 72k

Thanks to a series of misunderstandings, failed attempts at flirting, and loud Katy Perry music, Ben grows to hate his new neighbor.

Proposing to her wasn't the best solution to his problems.

This is, hands down, one of the funniest fics I have ever read. I cried actual tears because of how funny this is. Slowish burn, but their banter will keep you engaged the whole time. I love this so much!!

An Unexpected Vacation - Scientist, A/B/O AU - Complete - Rated E - 62k

“You don’t care that someone, that people will watch you fuck?” He looks two seconds away from puking. “Like multiple, multiple people will be able to describe your vagina. They’ll probably analyze it in a boardroom. Someone will feel proud about a shitty PowerPoint full of annotated pictures. They will use words like ‘arousal fluid’ and consult charts and these things will never not be digitally saved. That doesn’t bother you?”

“Are you suggesting my vagina is unworthy of analysis?”

In which Rey attempts to bolster her bank account by volunteering to fuck an Alpha in a scientific study. Plans go pear-shaped when she accidentally triggers scientist!Ben’s first Rut.

This was a really funny smutfest and I loved that. I loved Rey and Ben so much, and Ben was the perfect “I hate everyone but you” boyfriend! I love this!

She Doesn’t Normally Bite - Single Parent/Teacher AU - WIP - Rated E - 37k

Ben Solo is a single dad to 6-year old Ellis. Her teacher isn't the old-cat lady that he expects and naturally, sparks fly when they meet. Rey helps show Ben that he is allowed to be happy and the romance is DELICIOUS. There will be the happy ending we all deserve.

Both Ben and Rey have a lot to navigate, and of course - things are never straight forward.

Tw: Bens wife died when their daughter was born - whilst it is mentioned periodically, it does not form a significant part of the story. There'll also be warnings in the notes for the particular chapters it'll be mentioned in.

THIS THE ONLY WIP I WILLL EVER READ REY AND BEN ARE SO FREAKING CUTE AND ELLIS IS SUCH A CUTE KID AHHHHHHH! That is all.

Down an Inch, Up an Inch - A/B/O, Soulmates, Gym Rats AU - Complete - Rated E - 60k

Omega instructor Rey has always been the master of her domain at Rebel Belle Barre and wouldn't dream of dating an Alpha.

When her new neighbors at Supremacy Bootcamp start ruining her classes with their terrible music, she storms over to give them a piece of her mind. She challenges the beefy ex-Marine owner Ben Solo to a plank-off and the loser has to take the other's class. When they spark an unusual connection, can Rey stay away for long?

Has she bitten off more than she can chew with the gentle giant Alpha with the warm, sad eyes?

SMUT FREAKING FESTTTTT. Okay but I loved these two so much, even though I am opposed to working out in any shape or form! I love the non-traditional soulmate part, and I really loved Rey in this.

Tea for Two - Enemies to Lovers, University Setting AU - Complete - Rated E - 67k

'"This is a tea house, you know." The plummy, ultra-posh voice startled Rey Kenobi from her day-dreaming, almost spilling the scalding hot coffee over her chest.'

Rey, an American former hacker, turned cyber security expert, has been commissioned by Oxford University to protect their systems from hackers. Unfortunately, she has to work closely with Professor Ben Solo, Merton Professor of English Literature who also happens to be Lord Ben Solo, member of the English peerage. And an unmitigated snob.

She drinks coffee. He drinks tea. He only reads classic literature. She reads Marvel comics. He is nobility. She is a nobody.

Things should go swimmingly, shouldn't it?

SO. MUCH. UNRESOLVED. SEXUAL. TENSION. I loved the slow burn aspect because I sat in bed because I was waiting for them to bone for so long. And after they bone its a smut and fluff-fest I loved this so much!

And They Were Roommates - Roommates, A/B/O AU - Complete - Rated E - 49k

“This isn’t going to work.” He points a finger between the two of them. “This arrangement.”

Her eyes narrow. “You didn’t put any specifications on who could apply.”

“Yeah…” He rubs the back of his neck then, the action making it look longer, making her wonder what it might feel like under her fingers. “You have to know that this isn’t a good idea.”

She knows what he means, she does—but she’s so tired of being brushed aside for her designation that she challenges him anyway. “And why not?”

His eyes bore into hers, his expression blank as he says, “Because I can tell how much scent-block you put on—and I can still smell you.”

In which Rey’s new roommate turns out to be a lot more than she bargained for.

EVEN. MORE. UNRESOLVED. SEXUAL. TENSION. Like these two would be eating cereal and I would be chanting, “bone! bone! bone!” the whole time. I loved these two, and the family aspect of this one was so good.

Imprints - A/B/O, Boss/Employee AU - Complete - Rated E - 74k

“I was happy you’ll be working with someone you know. He’ll take good care of you.”

Take good care of you.

The words send a shiver down her spine, sparking memories that flood her with embarrassment. She feels a strange itch just below her ear, her gland giving a phantom pulse as if her body remembers the incident even still.

Suddenly her triumph fades into dread, the idea of working here leaving a hollow pit in her stomach. Poe is still talking, but she doesn’t hear most of it. Her mind is firmly trapped in the vivid memories of six years ago— in a moment she wishes she could forget.

By the time she hangs up the phone— she isn’t sure anymore if she can do this.

Okay so this is pretty popular so I wont say too much, but it lives up to the hype. Smutfest, fluff and angst rolled into one beautiful fic!

Bespoke - Enemies to Lovers, Boss/Employee (?) AU - Complete - Rated E - 38k

When new stylist Rey Jackson receives a request to dress the hottest (and most unfashionable) new actor in Hollywood, she gets a lot more than she bargained for.

Mentally AND physically.

Because Ben Solo is freaking massive.

THIS WAS SO HOT OMG! Smutfest but also super cute. Another “I hate everyone but you” version of Ben I fell in love with. Loved this!

Incognito - Coworkers AU - Complete - Rated E - 30k

“Somehow Rey’s coworkers find out about her Daddy kink. They all kink shame her for it, except her coworker Ben. He has something else in mind.”

This was so funny! Ben and Rey were so cute, and I love Finn and Rose in this too! This was great!

A Home For Christmas - Single Parent, Sugar Daddy AU - Complete - Rated E - 109k

Rey is a struggling single mother who needs to do right by her daughter, even if it means she needs to steal. Ben is sad and lonely, recently divorced for the second time. When Rey's daughter picks him to help her find her mom, their paths cross and their Christmas becomes a little more bright.

This was so freaking cute OMG!! I know I say that a lot, but this was so adorable! I loved Ben and Rey so much, but Nova was obviously the star of the show. I cannot recommend this enough!

Unsuppressed - Office, A/B/O AU - Complete - Rated E - 49k

Rey had only ever encountered two Alphas in her entire life that had been unsuppressed. And now this third one that stunk up the entire building. Not that it stunk, his scent. In fact, it was the most delicious thing Rey had ever smelled. ///////////////////////////////////// Ben Solo closed his eyes as he rode down the elevator from the 40th floor to the lobby, trying not to reach up to his glands to scratch them. Somehow, it felt like he always caught the elevator that was dripping in the Omega’s scent. The one that wandered around the building without any suppressants. The one that smelled better than any Omega he had ever smelled before.

STRAIGHT FLUFF AND SMUT OMFG!!! I loved this so freaking much! This was whatever the opposite of unresolved sexual tension and slow burn. Like Ben and Rey tried to make this a slow burn but they could not keep their hands off of each other. I loved this!

Sunshine and Gunpowder - Hitman, Surprise Parents AU - Complete - Rated E - 48k

She’s a teacher who would do anything to protect her student. He’s a glorified hitman with a heart of black gold.

Together, they make up odd halves of a beautiful whole.

THIS WAS SO CUTE!! Like, yes, I know Ben is a hitman, but when I tell you he was the softest hit man I have ever read, Temiri was so cute in this! I loved Ben and Rey, and their UST made me love them even more. Han and Leia are also hilarious in this!

It Takes a Village - A/B/O, Surprise Parents AU - Complete - Rated E - 40k

Who knew that all it would take for Rey Johnson to interact with her enigmatic Alpha neighbor without wanting to melt into a puddle of hormones was a baby being abandoned at her doorstep?

Not her. That was for sure.

THIS IS THE CUTEST ONE YET! I REREAD THIS QUITE OFTEN! LIKE AHHHHHHH SO FREAKING FLUFFY! NOT EVEN A WHISPER OF ANGST AND A LOT OF SMUT I LOVED THIS SO FREAKING MUCH AHHHH! AND THE EPILOGUE MADE ME CRY!

Sensual Storytime - Office AU - Complete - Rated E - 23k

When Rey Johnson starts a new job, her initially antagonistic relationship with Ben Solo from IT turns into friendship... and maybe something more.

Little does she know he also moonlights as Kylo Ren, the creator of her favorite audio erotica. One day at the office, worlds collide, and she realizes the sweater vest-wearing nerd of her dreams is also the tattooed fantasy man she listens to while getting off every night...

THIS IS MY FAVORITE REYLO FIC EVER. I RECOMMEND THIS TO PEOPLE WHO DON’T EVEN LIKE STAR WARS! THIS IS COWORKER BANTER LIKE NO OTHER. AND THE SMUT ? UNPARALLELED. READ THIS NOW!

That is all I have time for right now, but I’ll make another list later if anyone would like that! Please take care of yourself and have a great day!

135 notes · View notes

theaviskullguy · 3 years ago

Text

Ink and Petals

@dapple-dualies-propaganda here's the au

Tattoo artist! Rider x Florist! Goggles

hope you enjoy!

---------

When was it not busy at Squid ink?

It was one of the top Tattoo Parlors in Inkopolis. and it was also on a pretty busy street. So, it got a lot of customers. Also the fact that one of the artists was a famous turfer.

Rider hadn't formerly retired, but he had eased out of playing Turf Wars. He had found other interests outside of the sport: Theater, art, reviewing old movies online... He still did Turf from time to time, albeit the adult league. He was too old for the more popular teen division.

So, he found a job as a tattoo artist. And he rather loved it. Not only did most of his friends consult him for tattoo advice (from where the best places are to good designs), but he also knew some gossip. One of his regulars had beef with her neighbor because he has a pet raccoon who keeps stealing her trash and Rider could NOT wait to hear more about this story.

Another thing was, well, Rider had seen some shit. From people covered head to toe in tats, to people eagerly wanting their first tattoo, even to shyer folk who wanted one to defy controlling parents or to mark something important.

None of that prepared Rider for the news he got when tattooing one of the customers. More specifically, Gloves.

You see, Gloves had been coming in for the past few days. They had wanted a pretty complicated butterfly tat, so for the last 3 days Rider has been exchanging stories with the resident enby about... pretty much anything.

This is how this exchange happened;

"So you remember Goggles, right?" Gloves asked.

Rider rolled his eyes. "What, you think I'd forget the guy who kept pulling down my pants?"

"Oh ha ha. Anyways, apparently he works at that flower shop now."

"...He what?"

"You heard me!" They said. "I went there yesterday to get something for a project and there was Goggles! He misses you, 'ya know!"

Rider was just. quiet. He hadn't talked to his crush in a while, contact dwindled when Rider stopped doing Turf as much. Never once did he think Goggles would miss him, but that was probably the self hatred talking.

"...I'll think about it." Was all Rider said.

The conversation continued like nothing happen; Gloves saying multiple cursed things and Rider sharing interesting stories he heard on his job. Time flew by and soon, the tattoo was done; a butterfly with the bi colors on one wing and the nb colors on the other. Rider was quite proud of it, and Gloves seemed to like it. They waved, and left the store, humming to themselves.

Rider looked at the clock. His shift ended in just a few minutes. He knew he had no other appointments that day, so he took to watching old recorded matches in his phone.

Those were over a decade ago. Yet he still remembered everything. His favorite part was still learning he won a match by such a small margin. It was just... amazing.

He sighed. Rider missed those battles. But he has to say, he missed his crush a bit more.

He clocked out, saying goodbye to the other employee-Cherry (business relationships were easy to maintain when your coworkers were your siblings), and headed towards the flower shop for more reasons than one.

Army had a performance the next day. And yeah, Rider knew it was romantic, but platonically giving your best friend flowers was always nice. Plus, he wanted an excuse to see Goggles again.

He looked into the shop-the blue inkling was nowhere to be seen, but then again neither was the front desk. So, Rider shrugged and stepped in.

The floral scent was strong, but not overwhelming. Plenty of blossoms lined the stands, along with tags of what the flowers were and what they meant.

Rider looked around, trying to remember which flowers Army liked again, when he heard a familiar, youthful voice.

"Hi! Need any help?"

The inkling turned around. Goggles had definitely changed since Rider last saw him; his tentacles were longer and in an actual bun, for once. His blue eyes still had that clarity, and he still had that goofy smile. Though he didn't seem to recognize Rider.

"Uhh... I'll be fine. I'm just trying to remember what flower my friend likes the most." He said, hoping his accent didn't give him away; there weren't many in Inkopolis with an Australian accent.

But, Goggles didn't seem to notice or care. "Oh, okay!"

Rider internally breathed a sigh of relief. That would have been awkward if Goggles recognized him.

He looked around the shop, before spotting a bouquet of lilies. He knew Army liked lilies. If they weren't his favorite flower, it'd be close enough.

Rider took a few of the bigger ones, and a few white roses for variety, and took them to the counter.

Goggles smiled. "This a special occasion?"

"Not exactly. Just, my friend's doing a performance for a musical and I wanted to get him something for it." Rider explained.

"What musical?" Gogs asked, arranging the flowers with a sheer, white ribbon tying them together.

"Hadestown. He got Eurydice."

"Oh! I went to go see it last night! Army's amazing at that role. He's your friend, right?"

Rider internally panicked, but calmed down after remembering he wasn't Army's only friend. "Yeah. We've been friends for a while now."

"Well, tell him I said hi!" He handed the bouquet to Rider. "On me, alright? It's for a friend anyways!"

Rider nodded. "Thanks, mate."

"You're welcome!"

------

A few weeks went by. Rider occasionally stopped at the flower shop and got flowers for...well, no real reason. He'd use them to add color to his house, or give them to friends. He just wanted an excuse to see Goggles.

He'd talked to the blue inkling a bit more, too. He'd gotten into the business since, well, he really liked flowers, and he wanted a job where he could just...relax! He still did Turf, of course, but the Adult league was more serious than the teen one, and he just wanted to have fun instead of be expected to take a game seriously.

He still didn't recognize Rider. The yellow-green inkling was a bit hurt by this, to be honest.

Though, it was a bit startling when Goggles actually walked into Rider's work. And Rider was assigned to give Goggles his first tattoo: A blue jay on his shoulder, taking off from a branch.

This time, it was Goggles' turn to ask questions as Rider worked.

"Sooo.... you've been coming into my shop for a while and I still don't know your name!" The blue inkling stated. "I mean, you can probably recognize me though!"

Rider shrugged. "Well, who can forget Goggles of the Idiot Blue team?"

Goggles giggled. "You do know me! I still don't know you!!"

"...I can assure you, we've met before that day I got Army flowers." Rider said.

"Ooh! Can I try and guess who you are?"

"Ehh, why not."

"Okay! Umm..." Goggles thought for a moment. "Clams facemask?"

Rider shook his head. "Nope."

"Inkfall?"

"Wrong."

"Eging Jr?"

"Not even close there."

"Stealth Goggles?"

"Getting closer, I'll give you that."

"....Rider?" Goggles asked.

Rider chuckled. "Took you long enough, idiot."

Goggles smiled wide. "I finally found you! Hi Riri!"

"Hey, Gogs. It's been a while."

"Yeah! I'm a bit surprised I didn't recognize you, since we were pretty close!" Goggles stated.

Rider shrugged. "Well, I'm not the most memorable person anyways."

"Riderrrrr don't say that!" Goggles said. "You're still really popular!"

"To some people, maybe. Not everyone."

There was a tense silence, other than the hum of the tattoo needle as it made the drawing.

"....So." Goggles started again. "How's life?"

"It's...well, better than it was." Rider said. "Got my own place, for one. Though it gets a bit lonely.. You?"

"I'm still living in an apartment. I really want a roommate!" Goggles proclaimed. "Maybe we could move in together?"

"..I'll think about it, Gogs. Though it might be fun being your roommate."

"Really? Thanks Rider!" Goggled smiled.

The conversation grew more casual. Rider enjoyed it; turns out Goggles had his fair share of gossip. It was kinda cool.

And as the next few days passed, Rider looked forward to each of those sessions. His crush seemed to go from "this person would be fun to date i think" to "hOLY MOTHER OF THE GODS IM IN L O V E", and it didn't help that during those meetings, Goggles had to be shirtless.

The days turned into weeks and months. Goggles moved in with Rider, and the two became incredibly close friends.

And, it came to a head near valentines day. Goggles' shop was very busy, as expected. Luckily, Squid Ink wasn't as much.

So, on his day off, just before Valentines, Rider headed to the flower shop and got a bouquet of roses. Cliché to confess on Valentines day, Rider knew, but he's a pining gay cut him some slack.

And Rider came home right as Goggles was leaving for his shift. So, that left Rider with a good 3 hours to practice his confession.

"Alright, Rider. This has to be CASUAL. 'Hey, I've liked you for over a decade but just now had the confidence to confess!' No, too creepy sounding. 'Yo, Gogs. I really like you and maybe we could go out to dinner sometimes?' ...Too casual."

....Yeah, this went on for a while.

Rider groaned, collapsing his his bed. "I wish feelings were fucking easier...I should just call Army."

So, he grabbed his phone and selected the contact, Veronica Sawyer Kinnie

"C'mon, Army... pick up."

And not one ring later, "Rider, what is it?"

"...I need romantic help. Please." Rider asked.

"Look, just because I'm married to Aloha, doesn't mean I know how I ended up here."

"Yeah, I kinda know that." He stated. "Still. I really need some help."

Army sighed. "Who is it? It's totally that one person with the raccoon story-"

"Actually, no. It's, um.... It's Goggles."

The octoling on the other end of the line could be heard sighing. "Still a morosexual I see."

"OI! You're the one who married a fuckin himbo!"

".....Touché. Still, there's a difference."

Rider huffed. "Just... give me some advice. I wanna confess to him tomorrow but I've got no idea how. I'm giving him roses, but like, there's gotta be something more I could do, y'know?"

"Have you tried asking Prince?" Army suggested. "He is the one with the obsession with rom coms and romance novels."

"This is his exam period, Army. I'm not about to potentially interrupt a cram session by asking for romantic advice!"

"Fair enough. I'd say...well, just rip off the band aid. Like... 'Hey, Goggles, I really like you and was wondering if you'd like to be my boyfriend.'"

"...Thanks, Arm. I'll, uh, give it a try."

-------

Rider couldn't sleep that well. Mainly out of anticipation.

He was gonna confess to his crush of...over a decade, at least. He didn't fuckin know what was gonna happen!

Like, would Goggles reciprocate? Would he hate Rider after it? WHAT THE FUCK WOULD HAPPEN-

He sighed. He needed to get his mind off this shit.

Rider looked over to his bedside clock: 5AM. 5 hours before his shift. 5 hours to get his shit together and plan for confessing to the world's cutest but also dumbest man later that night.

C'mon, Rider. Think. Army said to rip it off like a band aid, but Goggles might find that a little sudden and out of the blue. He could write a letter and leave it for Goggles when he went to his shift (The flower shop was closed on Valentines day). That would be a safe option.

Rider sat up, and got out a piece of paper and pencil, writing a note.

"Hey, Goggles.

There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while. I really, really like you. As in, a crush.

I totally get it if you don't like me back, or think I'm weird, but hey, I was wondering if you'd wanna go out to dinner or something. Probably not tonight cause of Valentine's day but maybe tomorrow night or something.

-Rider"

Quickly, he folded it and wrote Goggles' name, putting a little heart sticker on it. It was corny, but hey, Rider had to use up those stickers somehow.

Rider attached it to the roses, and kept it on his desk.

And so, the morning went as normal. He had breakfast, got out of his pjs, put his hair up... the usual.

But as Rider left to go to work, he left the note and rose on the table, and left the house quickly.

During the day, he nearly forgotten all about it; He caught up with the gossip-Apparently the neighbor with the raccoon and the regular were now dating. So that was a nice little end to the story.

Squid Ink wasn't AS busy-probably because it was Valentines day, people were spending it with their lovers, not getting inked up (unless they made the appointment when single)

And it was near the end of Rider's shift when he heard his name mentioned. Probably someone making an appointment before he heard the familiar voice of Goggles going "Okay!!"

The blue inkling walked over to his station. "Hi Ridey!!"

"...Hey, Gogs. Getting another tat?" Rider asked, trying to keep his cool.

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!!!"

"A'ight anything specific in mind or-"

"Can I get just a simple quote one?"

Rider nodded. "Where do you want it?"

Goggles pulled down the collar of his shirt slightly. "Right here, please!"

"Okay. Just try to keep holding that down so I don't mess up.

-----

And so, tattoo conversations ensued.

The quote Goggles had wanted was a simple Pride one, that said "love is love". It was discreet, but a bit of it could be seen poking out if Goggles ever wore a v-neck.

"So, any plans for tonight?" Rider asked, trying to keep things subtle. Maybe Goggles hadn't read the note yet.

The blue inkling nodded. "Kinda! I had mental plans buuuuut nothing serious."

Rider raised an eyebrow. "Who with?"

"..I m-mean, I still have to ask him.." Goggles' face turned a shade of blue, and he averted his gaze.

"....Can I guess who he is?"

"If ya can!"

He smiled. "Does his name have an R in it?" Rider had a guess it was himself, but it wouldn't hurt to check.

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!"

"Got an accent?"

"Yep!!"

"Is he doing your tattoo?"

"....y-yeah?" Goggles sheepishly smiled. "I'm n-not that discreet, am I?"

Rider chuckled, but on the inside he was screeching. "Honestly? I had no clue myself."

"Really? I've been dropping the most obvious hints!"

"...Like what?" Rider asked, now a bit curious.

"Welllll I've been picking movies you like during movie night, I've made sure to get your drink on coffee runs, Oh! And I offered to cook dinner that one time!" Goggles stated.

"...Damn. I'm just oblivious then." The former dynamo user laughed, before turning off the needle. "There. It's all done." Rider held up a mirror for the blue boy.

Goggles' face lit up. "Whoa! It looks amazing!!! Thanks Riri!"

Rider smiled. "You're welcome. Now, uh, ...did you read my note?"

"..Y-yeah, I did. And, um...I like you too Rider!!" The blue man pressed a small, quick kiss to Rider's cheek.

Rider blushed. "S-so, you'll let me t-take you out?"

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!!!"

"I...thanks, Gogs."

"You're welcome Riri!!!"

----------

aAAAAA RUSHED END

but like. hope yall enjoy!

#Galax Writes #tattoo artist x florist #splatoon #coroika #coroika rider #coroika goggles #goggles x rider

48 notes · View notes

erin-bo-berin · 4 years ago

Text

A Game of Chess

MASTERLIST

This was an anon request to write a fic that involved Spencer’s childhood friend Ethan that appeared in season 2′s episode Jones. To the anon who requested this, I’m so sorry it took so long to write, but I seemed to have trouble getting this fic perfect. But finally, I tweaked it and molded it into a story I’m proud of and really like how it turned out. Shoutout to the wonderful @multifandommandy for helping me with the inspiration for the unsub in this fic. With her suggestion of using the real Axeman of New Orleans from the 1900′s, the unsub in this fic was born. I hope you guys enjoy this fic. Enjoy some sassy, jealous Spencer. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 6,907

New Orleans.

Home of jazz, amazing food and beautiful sights.

Unfortunately, it was also the home of a current and active serial killer.

You and the rest of the Behavioral Analysis team had been called in for a serial killer running rampant in New Orleans, which meant that left little time to actually enjoy the sights.

“Remind me before we leave to take you to this jazz club I think you’d like,” your friend and coworker, Spencer nudged you with a smile.

“If we have a moment to breathe,” you groaned, taking a peek at the murder board that had already been set up by the local detectives.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make time for my favorite agent.”

He gave you a slight smile and a sly wink as he headed in the opposite direction of you to get started on some geographical profiles.

You felt a flush creep up from your neck all the way to your cheeks. It was no lie that you fancied the intelligent Dr. Reid and some days, you thought he actually reciprocated your feelings.

It felt like the two of you had been circling one another constantly for months, either pretending the feelings didn’t exist or shamelessly flirting with one another. At this point, you weren’t sure anything would ever happen between you two.

That still didn’t stop how flustered he could make you. Such as how he had just done.

It was something special to have his undivided attention. That was a recurring thing for you though. You always seemed to receive a more special kind of attention from him than the rest of your friends—aka the rest of the BAU team.

You were heading towards the table in front of the murder board to set down your things when JJ quite literally appeared out of nowhere by your side.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that wink,” she smirked knowingly, settling down in a seat at the head of the table.

“Don’t start,” you retorted, cutting your eyes towards her in a warning glance.

“I’m just saying,” she smirked, opening the file and flipping through it before she spoke her next words.

“It’s just a matter of time before the other shoe drops.”

Whatever that meant.

•

You hooligans think you can catch me, but you can’t. You won’t. I’m much more cunning than you think.

You’ve found victims one, two and three. What about four, five and six? Seven? Maybe they exist, maybe they will exist soon. That’s for me to know and you to find out. If I wanted to, I could slay thousands of your best citizens, for I am in close relationship with the Angel of Death.

“Well, that’s not chilling at all,” you muttered.

A letter had been sent to the NOLA police department, apparently from the killer himself. He was taunting them and your team, that much you knew.

“Definitely a narcissist,” Rossi said, relaying your thoughts, “He thinks he’s untouchable.”

“Not to mention he actually took a line from the infamous Axeman of New Orleans case,” Spencer pointed out.

Everyone blinked at him, clueless.

“The Axeman was a serial killer from May 1918 to October 1919 here in New Orleans. He was never caught, but he typically murdered couples with an axe; axes that belonged to the victims. It’s similar to our current unsub although he’s killing women with an axe. That’s actually kind of similar to the Axeman because he did actually slay a few single victims, some being female and-”

Spencer paused, noticing the entire team staring at him, once again.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“Just a bit,” you nodded, holding back a grin.

Once the boy got started on something, it was hard to get him to stop. Or not talk 100 mph.

“Is this guy a genius or something? I didn’t even know about that serial killer,” the local detective, named Valadez, whispered to you as Spencer started back up and more to the point.

“You get used to it, trust me,” you grinned.

“The Axeman actually sent a few letters of his own,” Spencer said, looking at the copy of the letter, examining it, “He quite literally copied one sentence word for word.”

“Which one would that be?” Tara asked.

“I could slay a thousand of your best citizens, for I am in close relationship with the Angel of Death,” Spencer read.

“That’s the copied line?” Emily asked.

“Yeah,” Spencer answered distractedly, still studying the writing, “From the Axeman’s letter on March 13th, 1919.”

“So is this just a copycat?” Matt asked.

“I don’t think so,” Spencer answered, “Although the similarities shouldn’t be ignored. He kills women with axes and then sends a letter that has a line that’s verbatim for what the Axeman said.”

“So maybe he’s getting his inspiration from this Axeman guy?” JJ questioned.

“It’s possible,” Spencer nodded.

Spencer was totally in the zone, looking at the writing, tongue poked out of the side of his mouth.

“At most, he has an ego that needs to be stroked,” you said, “There will definitely be more victims.”

“Victim three, Raquel Clayton was discovered outside a jazz club,” Detective Valadez said, studying the murder board.

Spencer’s head jerked up.

“Did you say jazz club?”

“Yeah, does that mean something to you?” Luke asked, curious.

“The Axeman also mentioned in said letter he would spare anyone that was listening to jazz music on a specific night. That night the entire town had dance halls filled with people listening to jazz music. Either his motive is somehow related to this or this guy is just fascinated by the Axeman case. What jazz club was it?”

You were glancing over the detective’s shoulder, reading the file. The name struck you as one you’d just heard earlier in the day. With a smirk, you looked at Spencer.

“Up for a trip to your favorite jazz club?”

•

“It doesn’t surprise me that I managed to actually bring you here, but under the fact of work circumstances,” Spencer grumbled.

“Hey, we’re here aren’t we? We can enjoy a little music while we ask around and see if anyone has seen anything.”

The club was darkly lit, but was filled with soothing sounds of jazz music. You could see why Spencer liked it here.

“The music is pretty.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he agreed.

You stood for a few moments more taking in the pleasant sights and sounds around you before sighing.

“Guess we better get to work, huh?”

Spencer nodded.

“You start with the bartender and workers around there, I’ll start at the back. I’ll meet up with you later,” Spencer said.

You nodded and headed off to start your first rounds of questioning.

An hour later you met a disheartened Spencer. He’d had no more luck than you had. No one had seen anyone suspicious, no one had seen anything, there wasn’t even the first hint of who a suspect was.

This guy seemed to be as invisible as the real Axeman.

“Maybe Jazz was just a coincidence?” Spencer asked.

“You know as well as I do, that there’s no such thing as coincidences in our line of work,” you commented.

He was about to say something when a voice interrupted him.

“Reid, is that you?!”

You and Spencer turned to see a tall man, roughly the same age as Spencer with dark hair and dark eyes. His long beard would’ve been unruly on anyone else, but on this man it seemed to fit him perfectly.

“Ethan?” Spencer’s face lit up, as he hugged the guy.

“It’s been quite a long time since I’ve seen you. What’s it been? 13 years?”

“About,” Spencer nodded, “I didn’t know you were still here in New Orleans.”

“I just got back after some traveling. You can take the boy out of New Orleans but you can’t take New Orleans out of the boy.”

You watched the exchange back and forth, smiling politely.

“Are you gonna introduce me, Spencer?” you asked.

“Well, does Reid here have a girlfriend? Cause if so, he sure does have mighty fine taste,” the man said.

“No, he’s not my boyfriend,” you chuckled, “I’m his partner.”

You held out your hand.

“Supervisory Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N. But you can just call me Y/N.”

He smiled, shaking your hand.

“Reid, you didn’t tell me the FBI had such beautiful girls like Y/N here. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have dropped out of the FBI so long ago.”

You smiled bashfully as you dropped your hand from his.

“Y/N this is an old friend from Las Vegas, Ethan. We grew up together.”

With a sidelong glance at Spencer you could see him jaw clenching and unclenching. Something he did when he was annoyed. That intrigued you. What was annoying him?

“So you were in the FBI?” you asked, curious.

“Nah. After the first day of training, I dropped out. Left it to this guy here,” Ethan nodded to Spencer, “I knew Reid would be the better agent anyway.”

“What made you drop out?”

You winced, realizing your tactlessness.

“Sorry if that was too personal of a question,” you apologized.

“No need to apologize,” he held his hands up, “With a pretty agent like you, I’d spill all my secrets.”

A slight blush grazed your cheeks and you smiled brightly up at him. It was nice to hear such compliments. It was something you weren’t used to.

“I figured out I wasn’t up for being in the FBI. Much more of a musician, I guess you’d say.”

“Oh, you play?”

“Sax, piano, a little guitar.”

“Impressive,” you grinned.

“So, Reid. You doing better now? No more addiction?”

“Addiction?”

You furrowed your brows, looking at Spencer quizzically.

“It’s nothing,” Spencer mumbled.

“Last time I saw him he was pretty messed up,” Ethan said, demonstrating a shaking hand, “What was it you were on again?”

“Dilaudid,” Spencer answered, lips pressed in a thin line.

“What?”

You had joined the team only eight years ago, in your early twenties, just shy of Spencer’s thirtieth birthday. He’d already been with the BAU for eight years himself by that time. There were a lot of things you didn’t know about his past and apparently, this was one of them.

“Y/N is a newer member to the team,” Spencer said, suddenly seeming more relaxed, “She only joined a couple of years ago.”

“How long has it been since you’ve been in the BAU again man?” Ethan asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Fifteen years.”

“Damn. That’s impressive. I could never. Guess that’s why I ended up here,” he motioned with his glass, indicating this certain jazz club.

Spencer’s phone rang, but he ignored it.

“Speaking of,” Ethan turned to you, “How would you like to hear some great music sometime? I could get you front row seats. Maybe even play a request or two just for you.”

He winked at you, increasing your flush. It’d been a long while since you’d had a guy hit on you, hence your constant flushing. You were flattered and you were seriously thinking about taking up his offer.

Spencer’s cell started in again. Once again, it went ignored.

“If I get a chance, I’d love to come hear you play.”

He was about to say something when the cell rang again. For a second you actually thought it was Spencer’s phone again, until you felt the vibration against your thigh from your own phone.

“One second, excuse me,” you apologized, taking your phone out of your pocket.

You had a missed call, followed by a new text.

New body found. Meet us at crime scene ASAP.

It was from Emily.

“I’m awfully sorry to break up this reunion, boys,” you said, “But we gotta go. The job calls.”

“No problem. See you around dude,” Ethan said, patting Spencer on the back.

“Anytime you want to take up my offer, just drop by. I’ll hook you up.”

This was said to you.

He raised his tumbler in your direction with a flirty grin as he backed away.

When you turned to follow Spencer out, you realized he’d already left.

•

You and Spencer arrived at the crime scene ten minutes later.

“What took you guys so long?” Emily asked.

“Sorry, my phone was off and Y/L/N didn’t tell me you needed us.”

You shot Spencer a look.

What the hell was he talking about? You certainly had. Especially after he’d ignored his own ringing phone twice.

“It’s fine, you’re here now,” Emily said.

“Another body was dumped. Female, approximately 25-30, seems to be wounded from an ax,” Detective Valadez said.

“Man, he really did a number on this poor woman,” you mumbled, shaking your head, “She must’ve really pissed him off.”

The victim was so wounded and bloodied, it was difficult to identify much else about her.

“I know what that’s like,” Spencer mumbled.

You glanced at him again, your questioning glance being plainly ignored.

What was up with him?

“Split up. Witnesses said they had just seen her get off of the bus down the street. We need to know how she ended up here,” Emily said, “Y/N, Spence. I want you to start at the bus stop and see if you can retrace her steps.”

So that’s how you and Spencer ended up at the bus stop, him mumbling to himself and you exasperated at his silent treatment.

“How are we going to figure anything out when you won’t even talk to me?”

He continued to ignore you, walking up and down the sidewalk, thinking.

“If you’re mad can you just please tell me why?”

“I don’t know. You might be too busy flirting with some passerby,” he grumbled.

You were even more confused.

“What are you talking about?”

Back to ignoring you again.

“I think we’ve figured out about as much as we can from here, let’s go,” Spencer said, taking off.

He left you behind feeling even more confused than to begin with.

•

The only bright spot of the next few days was that there was a break in the case.

Thanks to Spencer’s excellent geographical profiling skills, he’d managed to narrow down the unsub’s hunting ground.

The icing on the cake?

In the dead middle of his hunting ground was a jazz club. The same jazz club you’d been to with Spencer the day before, the one where Ethan frequently played at.

Two more victims had been murdered, something that made your heart twist painfully in your chest. You’d been too late to help them, but now, you could get justice for the poor women who had met their untimely end.

To attempt to catch him, the team came up with the idea of sending an undercover in and staking out the place in an attempt to lure him out.

You were going to be the one that would be sent in. In fact, you yourself volunteered to. You wanted to arrest this guy and throw him in handcuffs. It’s what the bastard deserved after his heinous crimes.

Even though Spencer had hardly talked to you for the last few days, he still flat out refused. He kept trying to talk you out of it and convince Emily to send someone else in. But you’d already made up your mind.

“You’re not going in there, Y/N,” he protested.

“Yes. I am.”

Your voice had a steely edge. He wasn’t going to change your mind.

“Do you know how dangerous it is?!” he’d thrown back at you.

“Gee, no. I never thought about it,” your sarcastic tone was harsher than you intended, but it felt good.

If he was going to be mad at you for whatever reason, then so be it. But you had every right to be just as angry at him for giving you the cold shoulder.

“This is serious, Y/N.”

“You know what, Spencer? You have some nerve acting like you care about me all of a sudden. You have no right to order me around like you’re my father. Especially since you’ve been passive aggressive with me all damn week.”

With that, the plan was set.

And you went in.

•

“Remember, Y/N,” came Emily’s voice in your invisible earpiece, “If you encounter our unsub, we have to catch him in the act. It’s very likely he will attack you and try to hurt you, you know that right?”

You trailed a finger around the lip of your tumbler, looking around the mostly empty bar before answering.

“I’m aware. I’ll be alright.”

“Okay. Just act like a normal young woman out having a night out. We know he’s picked up all his victims here.”

“Got it.”

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Agent Y/LN,” you heard.

You turned around, seeing Ethan stroll up to you, a sly grin on his face.

“Well hello there,” you grinned, leaning against the bar, “And please, call me Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he said trying out the name, “Might I say you look outstanding tonight.”

You smiled down at the deep teal ruched dress you had donned for the evening. It was a simple dress with thin spaghetti straps and a deep plunging neckline, showing off more of your breasts than you ever had at work. It fit on your body perfectly, hugging your curves and highlighting them. A pair of strappy, gold, stilettos were the only accessory you’d paired with it.

“Thank you. I’ve been anxious to hear you play.”

“Where’s Reid? Did he not come with you?” Ethan asked.

“Oh, he’s around,” you replied coyly.

Just outside, down the street sat Luke, Rossi, Emily and Spencer in an undercover van, watching the entire thing on their monitors.

The styrofoam cup in Spencer’s hand crumpled from his grip on it as he watched the scene unfold before him. Thankfully, he’d already finished his coffee earlier.

Rossi glanced at the cup then to Luke, with a raised brow.

“You okay there Reid?” Luke asked, knowingly.

“I’m fine,” he gritted out.

“Right,” Rossi drawled, clearly not convinced.

“Isn’t that your childhood friend?” Emily asked.

Yup,” Spencer said and nothing else.

“I saved you a seat at the front, just like I said I would,” Ethan said.

Spencer’s blood boiled when he saw Y/N’s hand on Ethan’s arm. She was doing that thing she did when she flirted: that cute half smile and a peek up through her lashes.

He’d seen it before many times. It was just one of the many things he’d noticed about her before.

“I’ll personally escort you.”

Ethan wrapped an arm around her waist, leading her towards the stage. They were briefly off camera for a moment and Spencer couldn’t help but feel the jealousy tugging at him. He wouldn’t even be in this position if—well it wasn’t important right now.

They appeared back on camera, near the stage. He sat her at one of the tables at the front.

“I’ll try hard not to mess up. It’s a bit nerve wracking when you have such a beautiful girl in the audience to cheer you on.”

Spencer fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Y/N actually giggled in response.

“Reid, you’re seconds away from snapping that pencil in half,” Rossi said.

He peered down, not even realizing he’d picked up a pencil to worry in his hands.

“Anything you’d like to share?” asked Rossi.

Spencer looked at the three expectant faces staring back at him and grimaced.

“Not particularly,” he grumbled.

“Reid’s just mad that his friend is making moves on his girl,” Luke stated, nonchalantly.

“She’s not my girl,” Spencer replied.

“Dude, come on. We all know that you like her and just refuse to make a move.”

Spencer glanced at Rossi and Emily who seemed in agreement to Luke’s statement. A glance at the monitors showed that nothing exciting was happening anyway, so there was no way to avoid this conversation with his teammates.

“It’s like a game of chess,” Rossi said, steepling his fingers together.

“What is?” Spencer asked.

“You and Y/N,” he replied, “But it’s like you’re both stuck in a stalemate waiting for the other to make a move.”

He had no reply to that. What was there to say? Rossi was right and it was all his own damn fault.

“Take this as a lesson, kid,” Rossi advised.

“A lesson how?”

“Let this be your motivation.”

Ethan had left you since he was up next.

You sat at the table, sipping on your drink when you heard an unfamiliar voice to your right.

“Looks like you’re awfully lonely tonight.”

You turned to see an average looking man dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. He seemed out of place in such a casual outfit. That didn’t qualify him as the unsub though.

“Maybe I like to be alone?”

That stopped the guy in his tracks. He quite literally backpedaled and left you alone again. You heard a muffled snort in your earpiece.

“You sure know how to tell ‘em,” Luke scoffed.

“Yeah, well, if our unsub is picking up women with lines that bad, we’re in even more trouble than we realized,” you muttered.

You knew from the profile that this unsub was full of himself and egocentric. He would have to be smooth enough to actually lure a woman back with him.

“We’ll keep watching,” Emily said.

You sat alone in peace as Ethan played. He was rather good and you had to say you were impressed.

Your drink eventually disappeared and when you caught Ethan’s eye, you held up your glass just slightly, nodding towards the bar so he knew you were getting a refill. You stood, heading towards the bar, deciding you’d just go for a simple water. You were on the job, after all.

“I’ll take a water, please,” you told the bartender.

He was young, maybe early 30’s with dark hair. He seemed put together, even for a bartender. His outfit was neat and mess free and not a hair was out of place.

“For a beauty like you, you should have a drink, it’s on the house. It’s my specialty.”

He leaned forward to you, giving you a sly wink, as he reached for a glass without even hearing your answer.

“No, that’s okay, really.”

“Oh come on. One drink won’t hurt. I make the best drinks in the city,” he said.

Something in your mind was trying to piece together, but you couldn’t get it to completely form. Shaking it off, you reluctantly relented.

“Okay, I’ll take one then.”

He mixed the drink, poured it in the glass and slid it towards you.

“Now tell me that isn’t the best drink you’ve ever had.”

You took a sip. It was too strong for your taste but you smiled anyway.

“It’s very good,” you lied.

“So, have you heard about these weird ax murders happening around here?” he questioned, wiping the bar.

“Mhm,” you hummed, “Scary stuff.”

“It’s amazing these deadbeat feds can’t seem to catch him,” he shook his head, as if it were a real tragedy.

Neurons in your mind were sparking and there was something about him that was setting you on edge.

“What did you say your name was, again?” you smiled, flirtatiously.

“I didn’t.”

His grin was icy.

Red flags were going up. If he wasn’t your unsub, then this guy surely wasn’t someone to mess with.

“Oh my bad,” you giggled, playing the part of a flirty, young woman, just there for some fun.

“Anyway, all I gotta say is, is that this guy is really proving a point.”

“How so?” you asked.

“You just gotta give the ax to some people,” he replied, slamming his palm down on the bar top, making you jump, “You know what I mean?”

You nodded, seeming interested, but goosebumps were forming on your skin. It was too much to be a coincidence that this guy wasn’t the unsub and he sure had the ego to match the profile.

“Oh excuse me,” you said, reaching for your phone in your purse, pretending like you were getting a phone call, “It’s my boss. She can’t leave me alone even on a night out.”

You smiled apologetically and put the phone to your ear.

“Hello? Yeah, just a minute, I can’t hear you.”

You covered your other ear as if you were trying to hear as you headed towards one of the side doors.

Once you were out of the building, you pulled your phone away, hitting the speed dial for Emily.

“Prentiss.”

“Emily, it’s me. Did you hear any of-”

Before you could finish your question, you felt a hand over your mouth and you were jerked backwards. You kicked and screamed in tandem as your phone hit the pavement and you were dragged back into the darkened alley.

“Y/N? Y/N?!” Spencer yelled, panicked eyes looking at the others.

“Everyone move. Now. We believe the suspect has a federal agent,” Emily barked into her walkie talkie.

“Cover the parameter. We have no idea which direction he could’ve taken her,” Luke added over the radio.

Spencer was out of the door before anyone could stop him.

“REID! REID!”

He heard Rossi yell out after him, but he didn’t stop running.

If that son of a bitch dared to hurt a hair on Y/N’s head, he was going to leave here tonight in a body bag instead of handcuffs.

Spencer would make damn sure he’d see to it.

•

Your back hit the brick wall, the nearby streetlight hitting something metal just right that it gleamed for a split second.

Your heart stopped when you saw the blade of a hatchet in the bartender’s hands.

“I knew the feds had been around here snooping for me,” he sneered.

“How?”

You tried to act cool. This was part of your job, to be in dangerous situations. But truth be told, you were terrified.

“Your little boyfriend Ethan mentioned seeing you and your partner here the other day asking around about me. Little did he know he was really doing me a favor by letting me in on that little piece of gossip.”

Ethan. He had just gotten back from a tour of the world. He was innocent in all this, yet somehow he still ended up mixed up in it.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you scowled, wriggling against his grasp.

He held you tight with one arm across your neck and shoulders, his arm almost to the point of choking you. You had to stall, had to do something. Where was Emily and the team?

“Where were you that day anyway? I never saw you here.”

“That’s because it was my day off. Lucky break huh?” he snorted, “Besides, I was in search of victim number five.”

Lillie Newton. She was victim number five. She had a name, she wasn’t just a number.

Anger boiled within you. Pure hatred for someone as evil as this man that stood before you.

“Why? Why do it? Were you just trying to be another copycat?”

“You know, one of the things said about the Axeman of New Orleans was that his crimes were mostly ethnically motivated. He killed mainly Italian-Americans or Italian immigrants. For some reason, he must’ve hated them. I found it...inspiring. Of course, I have nothing against the Italians. Unless they’re women, that is.”

“Oh so that’s it? You hate women? Talk about typical psychopath 101,” you spat.

A sharp sting came across your cheek as he slapped you, hard. Hard enough to bring tears to your eyes.

“Listen here, bitch. I’d watch my mouth if I were you, because this baby?” he lifted up his machete for you to see, “This can do a lot of damage. I can’t wait to strike it into you and chop you up so your FBI friends won’t even be able to recognize you.”

You swallowed hard. Your brain was scrambling for a way to escape. You were just about ready to kick him in the groin when he was suddenly yanked away from you, his hard grip leaving your body.

You blinked quickly, not understanding what had just happened until you saw Spencer a few feet away, punching the guy. It wasn’t just one punch either. Two, then three came. You bounded into action then.

“Spencer! Spencer, stop!”

You tried pulling him away as the rest of your team came running into the alleyway. He managed to get one more hit in before you successfully pulled him away and Luke had pulled the unsub up, slapping cuffs on him faster than you realized he even could.

Spencer grabbed you and pulled you close, holding you tight. His head went into the crook of your neck as he clung to you, all of his apparent fear and worry being transmitted from him to you through the hug. No matter what tiff you both may have been in the middle of, he still cared about you.

“I was so scared something happened to you,” he mumbled.

He pulled back, looking over you, assessing you to see if you had any injuries.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I promise.”

His finger brushed your cheek lightly and you winced.

“Did he hit you?!”

“Slapped me, but I’m okay. It’s just a little sore,” you told him.

“You might have a nasty bruise there in a few days.”

“Least it’s just a bruise, huh?” you smiled a tiny bit.

“Yeah.”

He was gazing directly at you as if no one else were around, as if there wasn’t a bustle of activity around you. In that moment, it was just the two of you.

“Spence.”

You both turned to see Emily, motioning for him, needing his help.

Spencer let go of your arms, stepping back a bit.

“I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

With a nod, you watched him head in Emily’s direction. It had been a long day. A long week actually. But the murderer had been caught and there would be justice for the poor families who had lost their daughters.

That wasn’t all though.

Something had seemed to shift between you and Spencer. Sort of like a chess piece in it’s hesitant movement to another square.

•

By the time you’d handed over the unsub to the local precinct so he could be their problem, it was well past midnight.

Everyone had been way too exhausted to even think of boarding the jet tonight, so it was mutually decided that they’d spend one more night in New Orleans and head home tomorrow. Everyone had gone their separate ways once back at the hotel.

You headed to your room, managing to score an ice pack for your sore cheek. Unfortunately, after all the excitement, there was no time to talk to Spencer and he’d left the precinct before you had anyway. You made a mental note to check in on him tomorrow and maybe even see if things were okay between you two.

You’d changed out of the dress and into more comfortable clothes—sweatpants and a t-shirt. You were sitting at the small table in your room, icing your cheek and pretty much about to fall asleep when there was a knock at your door. Sitting the ice pack down, you walked to the door, opening it. You were surprised to see Spencer standing on the other side.

Before you had the chance to say anything, he grabbed your face and kissed you.

After your brief initial shock, your lips moved with his so fluidly it seemed natural, like you did this every day.

Minutes may have passed, or it might just have been seconds as you kissed him back, your hands naturally finding a spot to rest against his chest.

You were so stunned when he pulled away, that it took a moment for you to realize he had said something.

“Huh?” you asked, still dazed.

“I asked if I could come in,” he repeated.

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

You stepped aside and let him in, closing the door behind him. Your head was still reeling from the kiss as you turned around and saw him sit down on your bed, his hands running through his hair.

“Come here,” he whispered.

You walked over to him, standing in front of where he sat.

“I’m so sorry,” he began.

Your confusion deepened. Was he sorry about the kiss? About you getting hurt? About being mad?

He said nothing else as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him and holding you tight.

“When I saw the unsub had you…” he mumbled into your neck, trailing off as his voice cracked.

You pulled out of his embrace to look at him. You now stood in between his legs, even closer than you had been before, your body mere inches from his.

“I was so afraid I might never see you again. Suddenly, me being angry at you was the least important thing in the world.”

“Why were you mad? If I did something I’m so sorry, I-”

“Shh, no,” he mumbled, his finger covering your lips gently to silence you, “It was my own fault, I’m so sorry.”

You waited silently, seeing if he was going to elaborate. His eyes closed, his expression looking pained and even a bit embarrassed.

“I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” you questioned, your brows furrowed, not understanding.

“Of Ethan flirting with you,” he sighed, “And you flirting back.”

“I,” you paused, your mind racing, not being able to piece everything together quick enough, “I was just being nice to him, then just playing the part earlier. Why would you be jealous?”

He gave a half laugh, almost a humorless one.

“Because I’m crazy about you, Y/N,” he whispered, his gaze finally meeting yours.

His hand cupped the side of your face, his other hand resting lightly on your waist. You didn’t move from his touch nor did you make a move to push his hands away.

“And seeing you with someone else made me see red. Just the thought of you being someone else’s and not mine because I’d been too scared and stubborn, locked in this chess game, if you will, with you, not making a move. I was afraid I had been too late and I was mad at myself.”

“I’m not interested in Ethan. I only have eyes for you,” your eyes slid to his lips, unable to stop yourself.

You were still thinking of the way his lips had felt against yours. The softness of them, the passion in the kiss, the way his hands had cupped your face and held on firmly like he himself was afraid the moment was just a fluke.

“It’s always been that way.”

Your voice was barely a whisper now as your eyes slid closed and your lips found his again.

This time, the kiss was more heated. Your feelings for one another had finally been laid on the table, igniting a need to act on them.

Your hand tangled in his curls as you kissed him back fervently, suddenly feeling like you couldn’t get enough of him. You had spent years not knowing what kissing him would be like and now it felt like you were simply making up for lost time.

You smiled gently against his lips when he moaned into the kiss. Apparently, he was just as eager for your touch against him, as you were for his against you.

His hands reached for the hem of your top, pulling away to pull it up and over your head. His tongue moved out and over his lips slowly, his eyes taking in your newly exposed skin. Your own hands pulled at his loosened tie, dropping it once it left his body.

Spencer’s mouth met your neck, leaving soft kisses down it as your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. The simple task seemed so much harder as you were distracted by the feel of his lips on your skin.

In one fell swoop, he’d picked you up and turned, tossing you in quite a gentle manner against the mattress of your hotel bed. His hand ran over your exposed stomach, his kisses moving lower. You chewed on your bottom lip as you watched him, unable to control the growing desire forming between your legs.

You were so caught up in the sensation, it didn’t even register what he had been doing until you felt the slight tug of your waistband being pulled downwards. His fingers gripped the material and pushed it down over your raised hips until it was completely off.

You wasted no time in ridding him of his own pants as well.

Left in only your undergarments, you and Spencer laid practically skin to skin, taking a moment just to enjoy one another. He kissed you again, his slight scruff tickling your face, while his hands roamed your body.

You, also, took your sweet time exploring the new found territory of his bare skin underneath your hands. They ran over his back, his chest, his arms, his sides before finding their way back to his face, your lips moving in a fluid dance with his own.

He reached behind you, unhooking your bra, pulling the straps down until the item had completely left your body. You were almost positive he held back a groan as he took in your naked top half.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispered.

Your legs inadvertently clenched at his cursing. It wasn’t often he did it, but something told you that in bed it was a good possibility that he could be a completely different person.

His hands cupped each breast, his lips kissing your throat as he massaged them. His fingertips briefly moved over your peaked nipples, making you moan softly.

Spencer wasted no time though, his touch quickly retreated downwards to the only item left on your body. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties and pulled them off, leaving you completely exposed and turned on beneath him.

Maybe it was a mixture of how close you came to death tonight and your feelings for him, but you didn’t want this moment to end. You wanted to hang on to it forever. That’s why you took your time, hands pushing off his underwear, your eyes meeting his.

It was like he could read your thoughts. Being as close as you two had been previous to this, it wasn’t surprising, but knowing you so well in this instance was just on a whole other level of mind blowing. He nodded, wanting to enjoy this for as long as he could too.

His hand covered yours, interlocking your fingers together as he pushed into you. The new feeling of him inside you was overwhelming but really good.

Your hands stayed laced together as he kissed you and moved within you. Your body met his rhythm and soon instead of two, your bodies moved as one.

Breaking the kiss, your head fell back against the pillow as you moaned. You couldn’t wrap your mind around the fact that he felt so incredible. His teeth bared into his bottom lip as he gazed down at you, his desire written plainly on his face.

“Spencer,” you whimpered, pulling your legs up his sides, allowing him a deeper access.

His movements quickened as your pleasure heightened, fulfilling the need for more. You couldn’t help but smile, even as you moaned, at the curl that fell over his brow, moving with each thrust.

“God, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his forehead falling against yours, eyes closing, “Fuck.”

You briefly registered the other noises in the room besides both of your moans: the bed creaking and the headboard hitting the wall.

“Spence,” you mumbled, whimpering as he hit a sensitive spot, “You're gonna wake up the entire team.”

“Let them hear,” he grunted, “Let them know who you belong to.”

“Whatever you want,” you mumbled, pulling him towards you once again.

Your fingers dug into his back as your high built deep within you. He moaned against your lips, his hands gripping your sides as you both moved frantically, desperate to reach complete ecstasy.

“Fuck, Spencer,” you moaned, your noises suddenly higher in pitch and volume, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He kissed you as you came apart, the fire in your veins shooting through you as quick as lightning. Luckily, his kiss muffled most of your loud moan.

He buried his face in your neck as he soon followed, his own moans filling your ears, much to your delight.

Your fingers tangled in the back of his hair as you panted, starting to come down from the high. His body was slick against yours as he finally turned his face to yours, kissing you once again.

The cool air of the hotel room hit your sweaty skin, cooling it gently, but your insides still felt red hot, both in reaction to the sex and the fact that it was Spencer, the fact that he was as crazy about you as you were him.

The fact that both of you no longer played this complicated game you’d inadvertently been involved in for so long.

It was only after he’d stilled, his body still flush against your skin that he smiled one of his heart stopping grins, before finally speaking.

“Checkmate.”

TAG LIST: @dreatine @reid-187 @groovyreid @reidslibra @iamburdened @cindywayne @sundippedprincess @missprettyboy @hushlilbabydoll @sammy-jo1977 @haileymorelikestupid @lemonypink @teamkiall @redbullchick @ifeelloved @one-sweet-gubler @nanocoool @delightfullyspeedyearthquake @unsteadyimagines @ughitsbaby @inkwiet @pennythetechgoddess @capt-engr-ssa @sixx-sic-sixx @spencersdolore @reidsstudies @disney-dreams-world @chocolatecalzoneherringbonk @mggwhore @andiebeaword @cupcake525 @be-the-bravest @gretaamyk @hopebaker @prisonreid @httpnxtt @daviddoughboy @pastathighs @marvels-gurl @blushingspencer @simp-for-dr-reid @victorzsaszmydaddy @inlovewithamess @im-inlovewith-mycar @xshakesqueerx @queenofmischief @mattgraygubler @graceluvsyouu @itsarayofsunshine @alexisparmentier

#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid fic #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid gifs #spencer reid gif #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid gifs #dr spencer reid gif #dr spencer reid smut #Dr Reid #criminal minds gif #criminal minds gifs #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

720 notes · View notes

theimmaterialplace · 3 years ago

Text

holding on | emily prentiss x reader & spencer reid x reader | ch. 3: just the way you are

Chapter Summary: Spencer’s day after.

Contains: mentions of death.

Word Count: 2k

Comments: haha, uni is kicking my ass! sorry for the three weeks it took to post this, this chapter would just not write itself :( also i literally have future chapters finished but i need to get the in between chapters done before that so sorry! a lot may not have happened but spencer is seeing something here. he hasn't been able to come to a conclusion quite yet but he will soon... but will it be before the reader spills? also yeah, this story is filled with headcanons because i can't help myself! :D

i love jj but she gives off overbearing vibes and rn spencer needs some space from everyone that reminds him of emily/will only want to talk about his feelings. little does he know for that first part...

the next chapter is the funeral and after party!!! hope you enjoyed the chapter! lemme know what you think!

masterlist | read on ao3

I would not leave you in times of trouble

We never could have come this far, mmm

I took the good times, I'll take the bad times

I'll take you just the way you are

- Billy Joel, Just The Way You Are

When Spencer enters the room, it reveals relieved coworkers. JJ is the first one to approach him, eyes red and worry evident on her face. She pulls him into a hug as soon as she reaches him.

“Spencer, we were so worried when you left last night,” her whisper might as well be a scolding in his ears but he’ll take it because he never meant to worry his team, not like this. She pulls away and cradles his face gently in her hands.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t realize how bad it would seem to everyone. I… I didn’t want to make anyone worry after everything else.” He closes his eyes, not wanting to see the emotions that will only bring him to his knees.

Derek speaks up then and it’s like he knows. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, kid.” Looking at him, Spencer can tell he hasn’t slept and has cried the whole night through. If he had stayed with them, he likely would look the same. As it is, he barely got a few hours asleep, as haunted as his dreams were.

“Me too.”

His team is in shambles. It’s not just that Emily has gone away and left them, left him, like Gideon or Elle. No, she’s never coming back because she is dead, just like every other cadaver they’ve encountered in their line of work. Statistically speaking, death in their line of work was highly likely and it’s a miracle he’s managed to avoid it for so long.

Perhaps it’s because Emily has always been impressive but he’d never thought she’d be the one to die. If anything, he’d bet himself before anyone else on his team.

His team is talking to one another and Spencer can’t hear anything they’re saying. All their words are blurring into unintelligible words and the only thing he can see are their faces.

Rossi is a slab of stone being chipped at little by little into something unrecognizable. Hotch’s eyes are red and his face is pale and an ever looming cloud of guilt surrounds him. He wonders why; it wasn’t his fault she died. Morgan is much the same but there is an anger in him that he hasn’t seen before.

Morgan’s anger simmers underneath his skin; he’s frustrated that he wasn’t fast enough to save her or to catch Doyle. His sadness has become eclipsed for now but he knows it’s there, buried under the guilt and rage he feels. Perhaps it’s because Garcia takes on the brunt of it, the grief is written all over her face. She’s always worn her emotions on her sleeve and this hasn’t changed. He chooses not to look at her because if he does, he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep it together. Someone so vulnerable makes him want to do the same and he feels vulnerable enough as it is.

JJ is like Hotch, guilt and grief clouds her. She keeps sweeping her hair back and chewing on her cheek, a habit when she doesn’t want to focus on what’s plaguing her.

Their tells are obvious to him and he’s memorized all of them, every little action they’ve done is cataloged in his brain and this is no different. He had already known what they’d be like and what they’d do when he saw them.

He hears Ambassador Prentiss’ voice stutter when she asks why Hotch has called and he wonders if she already knows and wants to hear it before she comes down so she can grieve on her own time. He stays quiet and that’s as good as confirmation for her because her breath hitches and she says she’ll be down in an hour.

Emily never spoke much of her mother but she takes- took after her greatly. They share the same face and hair color. It’s like her mother had asexually produced because he sees no difference between the two; there was no bit of her father in Emily. The only difference between the two are the crow’s feet and smile lines on her mother’s face and he realizes that Emily will grow to her mother’s age because she died too young.

Hotch delivers the news, as expected of his status of Unit Chief, and Ambassador Prentiss is stoic and nods at the news of her only child’s death. She asks for details and Hotch is only able to give her the bare minimum and she only nods and thanks him and the rest of them. She goes up to Morgan and takes his hands into her own and whispers something only for his ears. He stiffens but nods and she goes away with the request that they inform her of their decision of when the funeral is and that she’ll pay for everything.

It’s a bit cold the way she all but announces how she doesn’t want to be included in the planning of her daughter’s funeral but Emily always had described her as cold and distant, loving only in private and when convenient.

The planning process takes up the rest of the afternoon and it passes him by quickly and he knows it’s mostly because he disassociated through most of it. JJ and Hotch shot him with worried glances all day and he just wants to go back to your apartment. He doesn’t want to go to his apartment just yet, not when he'll have to come face to face with the reminders of her in his own apartment.

The funeral is booked three days away and he shoots you a text and you respond a minute later with a simple thumbs up.

He tells the team he’ll be heading out and unsurprisingly JJ speaks up over this.

“Are you sure you want to go back home? I can give you a ride or you can come over. I don’t want you to be alone, Spencer.” Her voice is meant to be soothing in that maternal way she’s learned but it grates at his nerves. He doesn’t need to be babied. He knows she’s just worried about him but Emily’s death has left him exposed in a way that throws him off his rhythm.

“Thanks JJ, but a friend is picking me up. I’ll be staying with her tonight.” The team exchanges looks in a way that is meant to be subtle but Spencer has always had an eye for details so he doesn’t miss it but he doesn’t call it out.

“Oh well, okay, if you’re sure…?” He nods and she acquiesces but says she’ll walk him out. She waits with him outside while he waits for you. You pull up in your car with his favorite Billy Joel song on and he can’t help the tiny grin that spreads on his face.

You look tired but happy to see him and he knows that JJ probably wants to examine you but he really just wants to get out of here and cuts her off before she can say anything and says goodbye to her while getting into your car.

He can smell the aroma of Italian in the backseat and he knows you went to the little restaurant he frequents after a bad case because the food reminds him of when his mother used to order takeout because much like himself, she was a disaster in the kitchen. It made him happy that you remembered.

Billy Joel’s velvet voice is enough to fill the silence. He watches you as you drive, noticing how you tap your fingertips to the beat of the song on the steering wheel and how it’s obvious now that you’re distracting yourself from something. He hadn’t been able to see it before because he was too lost in his own grief but there was something off about your demeanor.

When you finally arrive back at your apartment, he finds it to be cleaner than it was in the morning and set for maximum comfort. Your couch is covered with soft, thick blankets with animals on them, cobijas, you had called them. He’s fairly certain that just means blanket in Spanish. The table that is usually in the middle of your living room is pushed closer to the couch and it’s where you set the food at so he assumes it’s where the two of you will be eating.

Your record player is playing jazz music. A compromise, you had told him one evening, appealing to his classical music needs with it’s long instrumentals and your love of their crooning and smooth voices.

“Hey, Spence, what do we feel like drinking tonight?” Your voice jolts him out of his observations and he looks towards you where you’re peering at the available drinks in your fridge, two ice-filled glasses set on the counter beside you.

“Arnold Palmer?” You hum and grab two pitchers from your fridge and set it out on the counter and he watches as you mix the two together so it’s not separated. You set the two pitchers back into the fridge and bring the two drinks to where he’s sitting, handing him one and placing the other on your coaster.

He watches as you take out the food from the bags and put his own container in front of him along with two pieces of garlic bread and his own fork and napkin.

Once you’re all done, you take a drink from your glass and open your container and take a bite of your usual order. He follows quickly after, knowing from experience how rapidly the food can get cold.

Time passes by and eventually the food gets finished and you’re both left alone with Billie Holiday’s voice filling the silence.

You’re nibbling on the last piece of garlic bread, your eyes focused idly on your bookshelf but more specifically on a collection of Emily Dickinson poems. He files away the fact that he’s seen this specific book somewhere and decides to ask at another time.

Once you finish, you lean your head against his shoulder and wrap your arms around his midsection. He shifts so that you’re in a more comfortable position that lets you rest against him while he’s able to hold onto you as well.

Spencer can’t help but think that you always know what he needs without him needing to say anything. It’s something he hasn’t had since Elle or more accurately, Emily. It’s not even been a month and already, he craves her affection. He misses the impromptu Russian talks and the book sharing and her calming presence. You remind him so much of her. It’s like you've taken on some of her mannerisms. Perhaps it’s projection but he’s noticed for months now how you’ve changed bit by bit into someone similar to Emily.

You must have seen his tell because you look up at him, hand finding his own and squeezing it gently before bringing it to your wrist.

It’s the little things you do that bring him back to reality, no matter how painful it is. He’s not sure where he’d be right now. Most likely with JJ and her family, all the while feeling like a burden. With you, he feels vulnerable in a way he doesn’t mind. He’s known you for years and not once, have you ever made him feel small. It’s always been easy with you and he hopes the same can be said for you about him.

“Stop thinking right now, Spencer. We can do that later, like tomorrow. You need a break right now. I know it’s hard for your big brain to shut down so just focus on my pulse and match your breathing to mine.” Your voice is slightly muffled by his sweater and he can only nod and follow your instructions.

“Thank you.” He says after a while.

“ Always, Spencer.” And like always, you understand.

The words are never said but he’s sure you know it and he knows you feel the same.

#spencer reid x reader #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #my writing #holding on

15 notes · View notes

joonie-beanie · 4 years ago

Text

The OM! Characters as Retail Workers/Positions from my old job

Full disclosure: I’ve only had 1 retail job, and it was at a Homegoods. I worked there for 3+ years during college. Because I’ve only had this one experience, my below hc’s for the boys may be a little...specific to my previous job, and not universal traits that come with all retail jobs.

Also I’m not including Luke because thattttt is child labor.

This is probably a very self-indulgent headcannon. Oh well.

Lucifer:

(One of) the store managers. Specifically the assistant manager.

Nice to customers to their face, but will fantasize about stabbing them once they leave.

Asmo once walked past the manager’s office and witnessed Lucifer professionally apologizing to a bitching customer over the phone, only to slam the receiver down moments later, sighing and mumbling “what an idiot.”

Very watchful of his staff. Do not slack off while he’s working....unless he likes you. In which case, he will take a moment to chat with you and give himself a much needed break.

If he doesn’t like you, well...make yourself busy, or else you’ll get a stern talking to, and likely written up. Lucifer already has too much work to get done--he doesn’t want to babysit his staff.

Quietly schedules the people he likes to work during his shifts whenever he can, since he knows he can trust them to do their work. Not to mention, he enjoys their company a lot.

His favorite crew to have is Beel, Asmo, and Satan (and MC). Their schedules, of course, don’t always line up, but when they do he seriously thinks that he has the dream team.

Mammon:

Cannot be trusted to actually organize the store, so he gets stuck at the registers.

However, the managers quickly realize that he's shit at anything front-end related aside from counting money (the man likes his money), and that he's prone to pulling out his phone when no one is around, so Lucifer forces him to work the floor.

They start trying to give him more backroom shifts (because if he's not doing his work, they'll be able to tell easier).

HOWEVER--because Mammon is such a money lover, he’s very aware of every piece of expensive merchandise in the store. So if a customer attempts to switch tags, or peels the price tag off hoping to pull a quick one on the cashier, his coworkers always call him up so he can take a look.

Seriously, the amount of people that try to buy the $100+ gem rocks for $9.99 is crazy.

He feels very proud of himself whenever he manages to stop a customer from getting away with it.

He’s not the best worker in general, but the mangers would be lying if the said they didn’t appreciate his knack for remembering the expensive items.

Levi:

Cash office.

Prefers to sit in the locked office by himself, listening to music on his phone as he runs checks the register balances from the previous day.

If he's not doing cash office, he's probably out gathering carts, or compacting boxes in the back.

Whatever keeps him away from the bulk of customers.

Whenever the managers need him to go help out on the floor, he gets permission to not wear his apron.

He seriously does not want anyone to talk to him. He just wants to work in peace.

Of course, if he’s seen organizing, or stocking shelves, customers tend to assume he’s an employee anyway--even without the apron.

Levi legitimately jumps anytime someone calls out to him and asks if he works there, and if he can help them.

Oh, and he always brings his Switch to work and plays games on his lunch break. Do not talk to him if he’s playing his game--he will get mad at you.

Satan:

Flow & mark-downs.

He's basically an all-rounder, but is superior to the others in putting out new merchandise (flow). He knows where things go, and how they should be organized.

Secretly gets annoyed when customers ask him for help when he's in the zone, but is very good at faking a smile.

Will do what’s asked of him without any lip in return.

However, rude customers should beware of him, because his anger tends to flip on like a switch. If a customer is badmouthing him, or one of his coworkers--he has no issue telling them they’re a fool, and that they should just leave instead of causing issues.

He gets in trouble with management for doing this, but honestly has no regrets.

Definitely has regular customers that he is enemies with.

Gets left in charge of the store if the managers ever need to step away for their lunch break, or otherwise.

Asmo:

Lead cashier.

Super charming, great customer service voice.

Always gives a good impression on the phone, and manages to make peppy announcements.

If there’s ever a fundraiser going on, and the cashiers are supposed to ask for donations, Asmo is guaranteed to rake in the most.

He is very good at calming a customer if they're upset--apologizing and and being so sweet and polite that it’s nearly impossible to stay mad.

However, if they're rude to him, or his apologies go on deaf ears, he has no problem politely telling them to fuck off.

If he’s not at the registers, he’s probably off in the bath section--smelling soap--or the candle section--sniffing literally every candle in existence.

He’ll also be sure to get a whiff of whatever candle/soap a customer has brought to the register to purchase.

Runs off to visit other stores in the mall/strip when he’s on his break. (Aka. he spends way too much of his paycheck shopping).

Beel:

Back room - heavy lifter.

Dude spends most of the day in the stock room emptying the truck and building furniture.

Seriously can move big things with very little effort. He once carried an entire couch out onto the sales floor buy himself.

While other coworkers may need to use carts or flatbeds to move larger items, Beel can legit just throw them over his shoulder and continue on his way like he’s not carrying anything at all.

He looks intimidating but is actually super friendly.

Will always work extra hours if you ask him to. Will also come in for extra shifts if you ask him to.

He always feels so guilty if he can’t accept, or needs to call off.

The type of coworker that goes out to buy snacks on his break, and ends up buy snacks for the rest of the staff. He just leaves them on the break room table with a note that says “Eat up :)”

Belphie:

Closer - Sales Floor.

The managers tried to work him on morning or midday shifts, but he was continuously too groggy, and ended up knocking things over on accident.

Hes more energetic at night, so they put him on the sales floor (since he’s honestly...not the best at the register. Don’t get me wrong, he can work the register as well as anyone else, but...he just...doesn’t sound friendly. (Lucifer: “Belphie...at least try to sound like you’re not working here against your will when talking to the customers. You applied for this job.”))

He honestly doesn't mind organizing merchandise, but gets annoyed if he ends up doing the bulk of the work. (Whether it’s because they’re short staffed, or because his coworkers are slacking).

Has no problem telling customers to gtfo when it’s closing time.

If people are still in the store 5 minutes after closing, he’ll follow them around until they finally take the hint and leave.

Always stops for fast food on his way home after work because making himself a meal sounds like too much effort.

Diavolo:

Store Manager.

Is very kind to all of his employees, but will also have hard conversations with them if there’s an issue regarding their performance that needs to be addressed.

However, he always does his best to maintain good relationships with everyone he works with.

Will buy lunch for the staff on busy weekends, even if he has to pay for the food himself. He wants to let his employees know that they’re appreciated, and while he’s the type to give verbal affirmation of a job well done, a luncheon doesn’t hurt either.

Even if customers are bitchy, he never raises his voice, or yells. He handles complaints like a champ.

If the customer physically or verbally abuses one of his workers, however...he will threaten to call the police. Do not fuck with his work children.

If his employees ever find him sighing, or looking like he’s stressed, then they know he’s definitely having a rough day. Please work hard, and help him out, and he’ll very much appreciate it.

Barbatos:

The 4th key. (Basically a manager)

Some workers are scared of him because he always seems to be in a good mood--even if the store is packed, and things get overwhelming.

A very by-the-book type. While Lucifer and Diavolo may allow for some things to get overlooked, or for there to be a lapse in proper procedure, Barbatos is not like that. Rules are rules, and they shall be followed.

Honestly is a very nice guy, but working a closing shift with him can be the worst. Especially if Diavolo is the opening manager the next day.

He will keep his staff there after closing as long as he needs to for the store to be in an acceptable condition. (The worst part is that Diavolo honestly is so easy going that if Barbatos had just opted to say “we were very busy and didn’t have the time to get everything done”, Diavolo wouldn’t blame him. Shit gets crazy).

Alas, Barbatos wants to please Diavolo and takes his role very seriously.

At least he brings in homemade baked goods for the staff sometimes. (His good cooking usually makes up for all the times he has kept them late).

Solomon:

Another all rounder. Usually get scheduled on midday shifts to bridge the gap between the openers, and closers.

Is very good at keeping up his “customer service” facade.

However, once there are no customers around his smile will fall, and he’ll mumble complaints under his breath.

“Why does one couple need 15 candles?” “Lady, I don’t care about your chihuahua’s sleeping habits--just buy the pet bed already.”

Will always tease his coworkers if he gets along with them. Bickering with Solomon can become a very entertaining past time if he likes you.

Whenever new crystals, or rocks come in, usually he’ll spend a while inspecting them. Apparently he can tell which ones are real, or fake. (And he always ends up buying the real ones).

He’s the type of coworker that will sneak up behind you and scare you when you’re not paying attention. Just because he can. (Fight him, he loves it).

Simeon:

One of the sweetest staff members, but he’s prone to getting flustered and making mistakes.

If he’s on registers, he’s so busy trying to start a conversation with the customer that he’ll short them on their change.

Luckily, the customer is either patient in waiting for the manager to come up and open the register, or doesn’t care about the 22 cents Simeon forgot to give them.

He loves reorganizing the towel section of the store the most. Getting to stand there and refold towels almost feels like meditation to him.

Always goes out of his way to ask the customer if he can help them with anything, or if they’re finding everything alright.

Is prone to accidentally cutting himself when something sharp breaks. (It has literally gotten to the point where if a ceramic plate or something glass breaks, the managers have instructed Simeon to call someone else to clean it up, rather than doing it himself.)

Honestly, in the end, he’s a fabulous worker tho.

#i have so many stupid stories from my retail job lmao #om!#obey me #obey me headcanons #lucifer #mammon #levi #leviathan #satan #asmo #asmodeus #beel #beelzebub #belphie #belphegor #diavolo #barbatos #simeon #solomon

503 notes · View notes

chemicallady · 4 years ago

Text

Daddy is home

Greg Sanders x Reader

A/N: Thank you everyone for reading this. If you want some fluff with just a little sadness, you're in the right place.

Couple: Greg Sanders/Female!Reader

Category: Mostly fluff with a little piece of angst. Family slice of life for Greggo.

Content Warning: none

Summary: Reader is use to feel Greg absence.... but what about is own children? And Greg? What's more important? His job or his family?

*****

You are use to feel Greg absence, almost every night and, sometimes, even for days. It wasn't a big deal when you two started to see each other. You were a grad student, looking for a PhD out of town - searching for a new experience- and he was a lab tech at the crime lab in Vegas. Your relationship had worked for 5 years while you were in Salt Lake City, even if you constantly missed him so much and viceversa. He spent a lot of utahns weekends at your apartment and you came back in Nevada for every break.

After your PhD graduation you came back to Vegas and he proposed to you. It was an hard time, Warrick was dead, he had printed is first book on Vegas history and you just settled down at UNLV. You had lived togheter two months and then he proposed. Of course you said yes and the two of you had a small cerimony at the Eclipse, Catherine's casinó. It was an intimate cerimony, with your friends and co workes and relatives from Norway and (your hometown/country.)

You had worked hard on your post doc as a teaching assistant and a researcher and he has continued his job as a csi. You have always prefered working at night the days you didnt have any class, in order to be awake when he came back home in the morning.

It worked since you discovered that you were pregnant. Both of you were so excited to become parents, it has always been something that you desire, having your own kids. Start a family.

After Bjorn birth, by the way, everything changed. You have started to work in the morning and sleeping at night in order to provide the best standard of living for your son. And, after two years and half, Jodie came to the world, complicating thing but coloring your life even more.

You constantly miss Greg, of course. You miss your youth with him, the mornings spent in making love with jazz music in the background before a lazy afternoons sleeping in his arms. The days he came to the University after job to pick you up.

But both of you love your family.

It's stil working.

Because you love him and Greg loves you more than anything.

More than that, he is born to be a dad. He was scared as hell, but he perfect fits that role.

Even more, he is methodical.

He is really good in keeping job separating from his personal life, even if his coworkers are his family. And yours as well.

☆

...But is hard for kids to understand why dad is never home. Especially for Bjorn, who is the eldest. He has started to notice this situation in the last weeks and you have been scared of this moment since you gave birth to him.

《 Why daddy can't come today?》

You look at your baby boy, feeling really sorry for the whole situation. It is his first baseball match with the pre school team as a player in the field from the first minute and it means a lot to him.

Bjorn's really smart for his age, he understand that his parents jobs are important because is a duty... But is natural that he feels so betrayed. He is still too young to even imagine how demanding is Greg's job.

《Because daddy has a case》, you try to explain with a soft voce, caressing his blonde hair with two fingers. He seems totaly like his father in this moment. 《He has to catch this big bad guy and-》

《Why uncle Nick is not catching him for daddy? Just for today! 》

《Because they work togheter, sweetheart... you know that. We already talk about daddy's job...》

Not in a specific way, of course. Greg is more like a super hero to Bjorn.... he is too innocent and young to know how cruel and horrible could be the world sometimes.

《It's not fair. He never came to see me play》

《That's not fair... you know that daddy is so sad for this... he ask me to shot everything so he can see it as long as he will be home!》

That doesn't help.

《And I'll be already in bed》 he snuffles, before running in his room, nearly cry.

You don't know how to manage this. Both of Greg and you are really indipendent.... that's why your wedding is so strong, because you don't need the other around one all the time.

But for Bjorn is different. He needs his daddy as he needs you. Most of that, he wants to make Greg proud of him, shows him how he has improved thanks also to their weekend practices on Sundays.

You are still thinking about a solution, but Jo start to cry from her playbox.

You have to speak with your husband and decide what tell to Bjorn, togheter.

He deserves a good explanation.

☆

It's late when Greg comes home.

He is surprised when he notice that the kitchen lights are still turned on. You are sitting at the table, looking at your laptop as you can't really see it.

《 y/n, baby?》, he calls you, waking you up from your thoughts. 《Are you ok? It's like 3 in the morning, sweetie.》

《Yeah, I was looking over some notes from next week semenary when I realised how late it was, I decided to wait for you to come back.》

《Thanks, after a couple of double shifts, I really need to speak with my wife》, he says with a smile, before kisses your lips and take a sits next to you. 《I've missed home in those last two days.》

《Have you slept a little?》, you ask worried. When a case is so demanding, the team works till they are exhausted. 《Did you have a propel meal?》

《...I ate two sandwiches Dr Robbins' wife made for us.》

《....there is some roast left. I'm gonna warm it for you and then I'll put you in the bed at least for nine hours, bright man》

He laughts a little. 《Yes ma'am.》

You stand up, caressing his hair, after place a kiss on his head. 《Tell me about the cause. Was that bad?》

《More like a nightmare....》

He starts talking about the brutal abductions he was working on those last days. In the meanwhile you are cooking for him. You open a good bottle of wine your father sent to you last week and prepare a couple of fine glasses. Is not a problem for you when Greg talks about his job. For some unknown reasons, it grows on you during the years togheter. You also have helped the team sometimes with you competences. It's quite normal for the two of you speaking about your day. It helps to split away the stress and find always your connection. And is always reliving for you see that even if the job is so demanding physically and emotionally, Greg can totaly handle it. Not only. He loves is job. Even in dark days like this one.

《Poor girls....》, is the only thing you can say, while you're watching your husband eat like he was starving. 《No one deserve this kind of fate...》

《Think at the parents 》, he observes, moving his elbows quickly. 《If someone would have done something like that on Jodie, I'd went mad.》

You stop thinking about the case immediately.

《Sorry for the unhappy connection.... but if you are not too tired, we need to speak about our boy.》

Greg looks at you surprised. 《What about him? Bad day?》

《Yes》, you answer, surprising him even more. Bjorn is really talented in sports, unlike his father. 《He played 10 minutes than he had an argument with the coach and spent the rest of the afternoon warming the bench.》

This is unusual. Bjorn is a good lad. Always smiley and obedient at preschool. Teachers love him because he is so good and he knows a lot about science and stuff even if he is four. Mom is an academic, a college professor and daddy is a scientist. How could be different? He is also responsible and he always take serious the baseball trainings. That's the first time he disobey this much.

《What happened y/n? Oh, no. Let me guess.》 You look him cover his own face with a hand. 《He is mad at me, isn't he?》

《Yep babe, he is really mad at you. And at me as well. By now, I think he is mad at the world because you didn't come today.... I explained him that's not your fault, but...》

Greg sighs 《But it is my fault. When he born I swore to God that I'd be a good father even if my job is.... the 70% of my life.》

《But you are》, you say with a stubborn tone in your voice. 《You are a good father. It was just and unfortunate Saturday. He have never missed a game before. You'd be there if it wasn't for the case. 》

《I know but he deserves more than all those 'if' statements. 》 You look at him, feeling the heaviness of this thoughts. 《I should stay in the lab.》 He finally says and you realise a long sigh. This is not going to be an happy conversation, not with your regretting husband weak moment. 《The moment I met you, I knew you were the one. I wanted to start a family before changing job, work on field. It was a stupid decision. If I continued to work as DNA tech we would have more money and more time to spend all togheter.》

《.... I throught we were out with 'if' statements.》

《Y/n, honey-》

《Don't you dare 'honey' me, Greg Sanders.》 You stop him. You keep his hand in yours and smile. 《You are an amazing father. One day, when he will be older and wiser, he will understand. Now is easy to handle the situation. If you spend a day with him, he'll forget about it. Is just a kid, G.》

Greg seems not satisfied. He feels like an idiot, not thing about how mad is son would be noticed his absence. But he also trust your judgement. He always says that you are an amazing mom and even more, the best of wives.

So he smiles back.

《Maybe you are right.》

《Maybe?》, you ask with an ironical tone. He stand up and comes near to you. He offers his hand and you keep it, staning on your feet.

《Sorry Dr Sanders》, he replies, while you are wrapping your arm on his neck. 《You're completely right y/n. I'm already planning an afternoon, just for boys.》

《He'll love it》, you reassure him, before asking for another kiss, with more passion. You both find a good arrangement so you can clean the kitchen and try to sleep at least three hours.

.....or maybe do something more interesting with you husband, who seems to have plans, looking the way he is lifting the t-shirt of your pijama....

You are use to feel Greg absence, that's true.

But when he comes back, well.... that's the moment you realise how much you actually have missed him. And how much you love him and be loved in return.

○Fin○

#greg sanders #greg sanders x reader #greg sanders fanfiction #greg sanders imagine #csi fan #csi fanfiction #csi x reader #csi #csi crime scene investigation #csi fic

120 notes · View notes

bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years ago

Text

Loosen Up My Buttons, Babe

So I was an Irish soft-shoe dancer for like 10 years and did ballet, tap, contemporary and jazz on the side.

The dance Geralt/his students are working on is HERE ON YOUTUBE and this studio’s stuff is so good, you should browse if you feel like it.

(I’d like to imagine that Geralt moves kinda like the blonde girl at the front of the second set of dancers... you cannot miss her)

lemme know if you like this au, I might add more later.

tw: vaguely horny

---

“Alright, let’s do some across-the-floors for warm-ups, please,” Geralt clapped, getting the attention of his students. The handful of young adults scurried to the far left corner of the room and awaited further instruction. “Let’s work on the combo from last week. Everyone good with that? Good. Let’s go!”

He pressed play on his Advanced Hip Hop Warm Up playlist and watched as each of his students worked their way from one corner to the other with a series of complicated break-downs and steps. Once the entire class had gone through the combination, first one way and then the other, he nodded and switched the song.

“Now let’s do the combo from two weeks ago and see if you were paying attention. If you’re not comfortable going first, let someone else go. Once you feel ready, take your turn. Alright?”

A handful of confident nods and yet another handful of less confident ones. About on par for an Advanced class. He waved them on and observed yet another smooth set of passes.

“Everyone feel warmed up and ready to move on?”

More nodding. This was his quietest class, probably because it was the only class he taught for college freshmen and sophomores, and they were a nervous bunch. Any students older than twenty moved on to Eskel’s technically driven adult class. Geralt taught ages twelve to twenty, six hip-hop classes a week, two hours a class. It was fun, but it was tough work and it had put his body through the wringer.

The ballet instructor across the hall was well-worth the suffering, though. He was new, fresh out of the Conservatory with his Master’s in Dance and another in Music Theory; a prodigy, he’d heard the studio owner say in passing. Perhaps, although Geralt would never admit it aloud, this particular routine had been drummed up by him and Eskel specifically to get the ballet teacher’s attention.

“Alright, I’ll run through it with you the first time, but then you’re on your own.”

“Yes, Mr. B,” the class replied in unison. He pressed play on a different song and took his spot in front of the two-way mirror at the front of the room. The class could see him and themselves, but on the other side of the glass was the hallway separating him from the ballet students. The ballet classroom was the largest, and had a mirror at the front, leaving the side wide open to observe the hip-hop students. Geralt was counting on his curious neighbor paying attention.

He hadn’t put this many body rolls and floor movements into one combination for nothing, after all.

---

Jaskier was salivating. He didn’t have a class between four and five in the afternoon, so he usually sat in his studio space and stretched or worked through new choreography for his students; today his attention had been very thoroughly grabbed by the class across the hall.

The gorgeous, white-haired beefcake of a hip-hop teacher, Geralt somethingorother, was hot as fuck and he was doing some truly delicious moves right now as he led his class through a combo. Jaskier wanted to kiss him desperately, but he wasn’t sure whether or not the other teacher was even into guys.

Based on this performance, however, he probably (definitely) liked men a bit. No straight man could move his hips, ass, and chest like that without breaking at least a little bit of a sweat (although it was still early in the class period...).

“Fuck me,” he sighed, thunking his forehead against the glass of one wall-length mirror to cool off as Geralt snapped his hips back and forth before hitting the floor with his palms flattened. “That should be illegal.”

“What should be illegal?” Eskel, another hip-hop teacher asked. He’d poked his head and shoulders into the studio and Jaskier blushed brightly at being caught.

“You can see him too, right? You can see the way he’s -oh gods, look at his chest - he’s moving, right?”

“Seems like you have a mild crush on my brother, huh?”

“Brother!?”

“Twins, actually,” Eskel winked. “But I’m not nearly as flexible as Geralt.”

“Eskel, darling, please stop it right now before I burst into very manly tears of joy,” Jaskier whined, punching his friend and coworker lamely on the arm. “How come you never told me before?”

“He doesn’t even know that I come bother you between our classes,” the dark-haired man winked. “He’d probably kill me. He’s very jealous, our Geralt.”

“So he’s... you know...”

“Yeah, dude, he’s into you, too.”

Jaskier may or may not have hyperventilated a little while Eskel looked on with giddy glee.

Geralt would be happy to know his plan had worked.

#geraskier #dance studio au #dance teacher au #geraskier dance au #hip hop dance teacher geralt #hip hop dancer geralt #ballet dancer jaskier #ballet teacher jaskier #hip hop teacher eskel #twins? i guess #ficlet #geraskier ficlet #getting together #does this count as seduction?#buttons

159 notes · View notes

enigma-im · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

Rating: Teen Relationship: Space Orc x F!Human Warnings: angst, avoidance, emotional constipation, repression, fluff, space orc

Word Count: 3812

insecurities are like another person in a relationship, whispering in the other’s ears till something happens.

-----------------------

Soulmates are something to rejoice over. Which is understandable, it's the person who is perfect for you. How could anything go wrong? It's your other half, your partner in crime, your true paring. Everyone believed it was a simple affair, you meet and then happily ever after. It was the basics until we found out there was life outside of earth, then things got a bit more complicated. New cultures to take into account along with physiology.

Things aren't as straight forward after that.

When I was a kid I use to fantasize about my soulmate. Would they be tall, short, fat, skinny? What kind of music do they like, and will they also eat their sandwiches without the crust? I adored the idea of having a new best friend to hang with. As I got older the idea never really left, morphing more into adult-type thinking. It isn't till I could translate my mark did I begin to have doubts.

It was an off chance that I happened to see the language my soulmate spoke, a weird situation really. I was fumbling about online and I saw it, just a new article that had a picture of the written language. It as scraggly and difficult to read, like a doctor's handwriting. With further research, I found exactly what species my mate was likely to be.

Orc.

I was excited at the time, I figured it out. My mate was to be an Orc, large creature with mostly human parts. To better prepare I did some more digging, looking up anything I could that wasn't video game lore. It was all so new and surprising. I had a direction now, an image to apply to my fantasies.

Since then I have studied extensively on Orc culture. Learning the ins and outs of how they live, socialize, idolize, and talk. It was all so engaging and rich in lore. It felt like I was getting to know my mate already.

The more I researched I soon had an inching doubt. It started off small, basic insecurities. As I read about their courting did I really give it some thought.

Orcs value strength in their culture. A strong mate is heavily sought after. If a soulmate wasn't of great value then they are known to cast them aside. The idea puts lead in my stomach. I'm not strong, or large like their women. I'm tall but I fit more in the string bean category more than anything. I could never be what a typical orc would want.

As I spiraled in these thoughts one thing became clear. I will not be putting myself through that humiliation. I can't stand the thought of being viewed so lowly by someone who is supposed to be my perfect match. To be laughed at by them or be a dirty secret will kill me inside. I can't be an embarrassment, I refuse.

Thereafter I ignored my mark, keeping occupied in school and work. A little while later it became easy to avoid thoughts about him. It was like I never had a soulmate.

It wasn’t as freeing as I thought it would be.

After college I jump into my career, climbing the corporate ladder quickly. It's easy enough when you are married to your work. That even the thought of free time brings anxiety and stress. After a few years, I am exactly where I want to be. Traveling the world meeting new important people.

I have been everywhere and met every type of person. Orcs being one of those types of people. When I first saw one the excitement peaked its head, only for a moment. Then anxiety took over. What if it's him? The orc said his first words to me and the sigh of relief and disappointment was alarming. A few more introduction after that and the rising emotions settled. It was back to normal after that. Pretending that 'special' someone didn't exist.

Years passed and nothing happened. I didn't meet him or even get a trail. My soul felt numb, everything felt numb. It's hardly noticeable after so long, just a hole I've dealt with. I tried dating to fill the void but no one wants to date outside their partner. Anyone who does has lost their loved one already, wanting to also fill the void. Once they find out mine is still out there they break off quickly. So I focus on my career, it's all I have.

In my early 30s, I'm working in Germany. A lovely place but I always preferred the isles of Scotland, specifically Skye. At the embassy passing around some documents, I bump shoulders with an imposing figure. He is quite tall and buff, the poster child of orcs if I've ever seen one. He twists around, apologizing for the shoulder check.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there. Shouldn't have had my focus too far in the clouds while walking a crowded room," he smiles curtly.

I stare blank face at him, all primary functions failing. I can hear- feel- my heart beating against my chest. Everything is cold, my fingers numb but tingly. My vision tunnels and my brain just screams one thing. Run.

Rudely I turn and quickly walk away, giving no further reaction or words to my mat- to the stranger. I don't have a direction as I make it out the nearest door. I close it swiftly behind me, leaning against it. Sliding down to the floor I ball up. Pressing my knees to my chest and begin crying. Years of repression and closeting emotions are now boiling over. The sadness I ignored, convincing myself that they do not exist, is all on the surface.

I hiccup, stubbornly wiping away tears on the floor of a bathroom. All I can think is,

Fuck.

-----------------------

I have to say I've gotten good at not only avoiding emotions but people too. A week and a half of only catching glimpses of the orc. Which is a lot of glimpses, he is out and about often. It helps I'm stuck in my office for the time, only leaving for lunch. Still, he is always around when I'm out.

After I can pretend I've forgotten about him does he show up in my office. Knocking on my door a little after lunch. Too focused on work I don't hear him come in. I look up from my desk and choke.

"Hello again," he smiles," I have a folder for you, Reggie asked if I could bring it by."

"uh," I stare. My fingers grip the pen roughly, my fist almost shaking with the tension. The only thought running through my head now is, 'don't say anything'. If I talk then he will know. Then he will reject me. Then I can't go on pretending.

"You alright," he flicks the folder against his chest," didn't mean to startle you or anything. I know orcs can be kind of intimidating." I almost snort at the irony of that statement. Very intimidating indeed.

Instead of answering I hold out my hand for the folder, my other still white gripping the pen. He quickly crosses the room, handing me the folder before walking back to the door. With a curt wave, he is gone.

Once the door clicks into place I take in a greedy breath, slamming my head into my crossed arms. I groan, mumbling into my fist. My brain is muddled and my heart conflicted. I yearn to follow him but I also crave to leave back to the states. But one thought is resting quietly in the back of my head.

He looks good in those pants.

-----------------------

This idiot is now making it damn hard to avoid him. It's like he has made it his mission to get me to talk. Intercepting my way to my office in the mornings, meeting me at lunch, or delivering things to my office. He is determined, I'll give him that.

I'm almost running out of excuses. It's hard to make excuses without talking. I'm almost convinced he thinks I'm mute. Which would have been a grand way out if it wasn't for my coworkers plotting against me. As I talk with them they try to bring him into the conversation, promptly shutting me up.

I learn at some point his name is Garson. When I first heard I actually blushed, like a school girl! It was just his name and he didn't even say it. I will never understand the inner workings of soulmates but Garson always makes my controlled emotions run rapid.

As I sit in my office, absentmindedly writing my door opens. I don't look up, lost in thought for the hundredth time today.

"Hey," that deep -sexy- voice says. I sigh, shoulders slumping. I glance ahead, annoyed, and flustered. Garson waves shyly, holding up another folder. At this point, he has become my special delivery man. "From Vanya," he sets the file down," she asked I bring it on account of her bum leg. I told her it would be a bad idea to play soccer with her teens." his tense chuckle makes my heart throb. I want to ease his anxiety, but I can't. I just shrug, still writing.

He sighs, walking back out the door. The click echoed around the room and I find myself slamming my head on the desk again.

"Fuck," I groan, pounding my fist on the folder.

As I remind myself for the hundredth time why I'm doing this I notice my notes. I shift the paper and grimace at what I wrote.

Garson. Garson. Garson.

-----------------------

I can't fucking take it! He is more determined than I am stubborn. Watching him find more excuses to come to my office is almost impressive in its own right. He has upgraded from delivery boy to a food service. At some point he has found out my favorite snacks and drinks.

He interrupts me at the door, handing me a coffee while ranting about his night. As I ignore him, feeling like the biggest idjit, other coworkers join in. the number of dirty looks I get doesn't outweigh the appreciation I have for them talking to him. I feel like complete garbage when I don't respond to him, letting him look like a fool talking to someone who clearly doesn't want to talk. Thank the kindness of others.

Around lunch he pops in for a chat, offering a spot next to him in the cafeteria. I shake my head, pretending to be too busy to interact with him. Every time he offers and I decline he leaves so dejected. It's so heartbreaking to see him like that.

Day after day he tries his damndest to make friends with me. I cannot fathom this type of devotion to someone he doesn't know. I'm almost tempted to think he knows but its impossible. He is just too friendly for his own good.

Some coworkers have cornered me to ask what is up, some more confrontational than others. Some are casual in their attempts, asking simply why I'm so mean to the orc. Others are personally offended for him, being passive-aggressive to the point that I ask them to take his attention off me if they are so angry. Some do, which I'm grateful for. But he isn't swayed so easily.

I sit in my office, alone, contemplating my choices. I can't keep dealing with this. The heartbreak I feel rejecting him is as bad as him rejecting me. I'm doing what I was afraid of him doing, worse is he doesn't even know.

I have to leave.

-----------------------

It was weak, I'll admit that. Asking for a transfer was probably the easiest way out. I know I should just talk to him, let him have a choice in this, but I can't. he is a sweet guy, everyone knows that, but he is still an orc. He deserves someone strong and proud as his kind is. It's impossible for me to be that.

As I wallow on my last week of work I clean up my drawers to distract myself. I sort through some papers when the door bangs open. The knob slams against the wall, bouncing away towards that alluring figure. Garson walks in, grabbing the door and closing it behind him. His sneer is alarming, along with his clenched fist.

"You're leaving," he shouts," are you kidding me?" he walks closer to the desk, turning to pace the length of the room. " I tried, I thought maybe it's because I'm an orc and you were scared of me. I understand that, humans are super sensitive that way. But no! I was nice, patient, and doing everything I could to be nonthreatening. Yet that didn't help did it? It seems like nothing was going to fix that. So my question should really be why is my soulmate running from me?" I gasp, gawking at him. He stops his pacing, glaring down at me with crossed arms. He shrugs," well? Why are you running from me?"

I can't answer, shocked and startled by this admission. He doesn't allow me the time to stew on the question. He shoots forwards, slamming his hands on the desk. I jump.

"Why are you running from me," he chokes on a sob," It's been killing me to give you time. To watch you every day and not be able to hold you. If you want to leave, then fine. I won't stop you. I just want to know where I went wrong, what did I do? What could I have done? Was I always going to be not enough for you? Well?"

I bolt up at his words," I was scared! I was fucking scared, ok?" we both startle at my outburst. His self-deprecating look mixed with his attempt at a sneer melt off his face. I sigh, "I didn't want to be rejected, I couldn't handle that kind of pain." I drop my head in defeat.

Garson ducks down onto his knees, catching my eyes. "Why did you assume I would reject you," he asks.

"because you’re an orc and I'm not," I answer.

He scoffs," and you're a human and I'm not. Do you really see that as being a huge problem?"

"Yes," I slap the desk," of course it's going to be a problem. I'm not strong or proud, I'm weak and antisocial. I cry every time I watch sad dog movies. I can't lift more than half my body weight. I also don't have anything worthy for you. I'm an ordinary human while you are part of a devoted species. I am not worthy."

Garson just stares after my outburst. He looks between my eyes then gives me a once over. He huffs, standing straight. He combs his fingers through his long hair, turning away with a laugh.

"You have to be kidding me," he laughs again. His chuckles turn into full-blown laughter till he is lounging against the door.

"What's so funny," I snap. His laughs trail off as he watches me. When he doesn't answer, I sit, arms crossed and lip sneered.

"Sorry," he looks to his feet," it's just ironic."

"Yea, how so?"

I watch him straighten from the wall and casually flop into one of the chairs in front of my desk. Everything is quiet as he collects his thoughts. I faintly hear the sound of shuffling outside my door. No doubt some people heard the shouting.

"When I first found out what species my soulmate was I was excited. I had a direction now, I felt closer to you. I was so excited I told everyone I could. People of my clan held their tongues at my joy, only giving pitiful looks but no words. I never noticed it. It's when my parents sat me down to explain did I get it," he shifts in his chair," 'humans are scared of us' my mom said. 'they are weak' my dad said. I became torn between the fear of hurting you and the fear of you not wanting me because you'd think I'd hurt you.

"When I finally read what your words said I let their words alter me. instead of rejecting the idea of you I sent out to change. I got jobs that interacted with humans and kept myself small. I'm not a threat, I never was. I took every chance to chat with humans, to get used to them. It was all in preparation for you. I was- am- scared of you." he meets my eyes, his so full of fear. My heart patters, the view of vulnerability shaking me to the core.

"y-you were scared of me," I point to myself. The idea is laughable. "So we are a bunch of idiots too worried about each other's feelings to just ask straight out what we actually felt. That is funny," I chuckle. I huff, sitting back in my seat.

The awkward silence should be stifling but we are captured in our thoughts. It's amazing in its irony that he was also the one scared. I feel relieved and foolish all at once.

"so," he bounces his fingers on his thigh," what now?" I shift in my seat, also curious about our direction.

"depends," I nibble on my lip," do you want me despite everything?" the question lingers in the air for me. The answer I've dreaded my entire life. The choice that decides my happiness.

"Despite everything," he ponders," you ignore me for weeks, avoiding any interaction. Not talking to me less you wish to reveal yourself, and requesting a transfer. Despite all that, despite the ignorance and stubbornness, I want you." the satisfaction that flows through me is startling. My hand shakes from the previous fear and now incomparable joy.

"I never thought I would hear those words," I sigh," thank fuck."

He stands from his chair, walking over the side of my desk. "So you want me too? Despite everything," he crouches down. I grab at his face, finally allowing myself the chance to admire his handsome face. His long tusk and pierced lip. His dark green eyes and even darker green skin. He is so beautiful.

I answer him by leaning forward and capturing his lips. Pressing fiercely against him, showing him my cyclone of emotions. He returns it in full, shedding his insecurities to just hold me.

"I'm sorry," I mumble against him.

"it's ok, I'm sorry too," he kisses me again. He cards his fingers through my hair, petting down its length. I don't want to leave this moment, it filling the hole that sat too long in my heart. Though one question makes me part.

"How did you know," I ask. He traces his nose over mine with a hum.

"How did I know what," he asks.

"How did you know I was your soulmate, I didn’t say anything," I clarify. Garson answers by leaning down to my neck and taking a large inhale.

"Fresh baked cookies and honey milk," he kisses my cheek," only my soulmate can smell so good."

I laugh," you can smell your soulmate?"

"of course, all orcs can. Do humans not have this," he leans back. I shake my head, taking the time to lean in and smell him.

"pine tree and blueberries," I ponder," no, pine tree and strawberries."

"pine tree and fruit?"

"I guess so," I shrug, grinning like an idiot. He smiles with me, leaning back in for another heart stopping kiss.

-----------------------

After the week is over I transfer back to the states. The distance is aching, the void opening as he isn't there to fix it. I call him every night, regretting more than anything signing those papers. I belong right next to Garson in Germany. Though I can see now that I deserve to deal with the repercussions of my actions. Still, it sucks.

A month in I feel as empty as I did before he showed up. The daily calls help but seeing him would be better. My work suffers as a result, to the point that I consider taking vacation time to visit him.

Soon enough I do just that, putting in a week-long vacation request. I forgo telling Garson of my visit, wanting to surprise him. It's exciting to be able to this with someone. I always watch couples on tv surprising each other like this. It's nice to feel so normal.

The night before my flight I start packing. As I collect my clothes I hear a knock at the door. Tossing the items down I go over and answer. I throw open the door expecting some salesman but I'm greeted to a hulking figure.

"Garson!" I jump him with a hug. I pepper his face with kisses, too caught up in the growing affection.

"Hey, nice to see you too," he laughs, holding me close. He walks in, shutting the door behind himself as he goes into my living room. He sets us both on the couch, leaning down for a kiss.

"What are you doing here," I ask surprised.

"What, can't come visit my mate?"

"Oh shush, you know that's not what I meant. I'm asking because I was just getting ready to visit," I point towards my room," I'm in the middle of packing actually."

"really," he strokes my thigh," I guess great minds think alike."

"I guess they do," I smile. Having him here is like a weight being lifted off my shoulders. I underestimated his importance until now.

We can't help but make up for lost time, making out like a bunch of teenagers on the couch till we make it to the bedroom. Pushing the luggage and clothes off the bed we make love for the first time. When he first pushes in it's like a puzzle finally coming together. I can't believe I was going to deny myself this, even with the chance of denial this is too great of a reward.

We lay in bed, me resting against his broad chest and him petting my head. We bask in the afterglow and silence, overjoyed with each other's company.

"I got some news," he mumbles, breaking the quiet. I hum, nuzzling into his chest. "I got transferred here," he answers.

I snap straight, looking down at him, "You're going to work with me?"

"yea," he smiles," it's exciting, I've never been to the states before."

"really? It's not much but now that you’re here perhaps it is," I cup his jaw, stealing a kiss while my excitement is hot.

"you flirt," he teases," I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," I mumble against his lips.

We fall asleep that night, curious but excited about our future.

I'm glad things worked out despite our ignorance. How could anyone deny their mate?

-----------------------

I just.... I just love orcs so much. soulmate stories ain’t so bad either.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

#orcs are hot #orc boyfriend #orc x reader #monster boyfriend #exophilia #Enigma-IM #fluff #soulmate #garson

342 notes · View notes

patchwork-panda · 4 years ago

Text

“I won’t tell a soul.” (BSD Nakahara Chuuya x Reader #1)

AO3 link: HERE

“Title: “I won’t tell anybody”/“誰にも言わない” Genre: Romance Rating: PG-13 for alcohol usage (eventual language/physical violence/kiss scene) Reader-insert is written as a civilian, femme and 20+ Plot: You meet Chuuya at a wine bar and over time, you become close. Your regular meetings become something you both enjoy so when Chuuya stops visiting for several weeks, you begin to worry... When you meet again, you learn the truth... But do you care? Mini Fic is written in 2nd person. title is reference to new Utada Hikaru single

“You have good taste.”

You lower your wineglass slightly and glance over the round rim, across the bar at the man who just spoke. You’ve never seen him before but he speaks as though he already knows you and something about that catches your interest.

You study him.

He’s well-dressed. Better dressed than most of the other patrons, with his gray vest, half-jacket with the sleeves rolled up and fancy black hat worn low on his head. There’s an expensive-looking black coat lined in rose-colored satin draped on the chair behind him and a belt-buckle choker gleams at his throat.

Beneath the brim of his stylish, black hat, the man’s hair is bright orange and curls just so about his face, with a single lock, kept long, draped casually over one shoulder. And his eyes... his eyes are the deep blue of the ocean on a wintry day. His lips pull back into a confident smile as he sees you looking and he briefly tips his hat in greeting.

You smile.

You know that even if you didn’t already have a glass and a half of your favorite cabernet flowing through your veins, you would still find him attractive.

The man across the bar raises his glass to you and as the dark garnet-red liquid inside catches the light, you see that he has selected the exact same wine as you.

“Thank you,” you reply, raising your glass as well. “Same to you.”

----------------------

And that was how you’d met “Chuuya.”

He never gave his last name, so you chose not to either, but that didn’t stop the two of you from getting to know each other.

Like you, Chuuya had been coming to this particular wine bar for some time now, but he tended to come by very late, usually just before closing. The only reason you’d caught him on that first night was that you’d stopped by a little later than usual, having had a particularly long day at the office and that he’d come a little early. But you’d really hit it off that first night, and so, as if by some secret, unspoken agreement, you kept meeting here, at this nondescript wine bar a stone’s throw away from the five large black towers that dominated the Yokohama skyline.

Every Friday night at eleven, you would come here, sit at the bar, order a glass of wine (whatever the special was that night) and wait for Chuuya to come.

And he always did come, usually never arriving more than five minutes after you, and always greeting you with his usual lift of the hat and half-smirk of a smile. Then, you would gesture to the free seat beside you and he would take it.

Chuuya wouldn’t tell you what he did for a living, nor did he ever ask you much about your personal life, but other than that, it seemed like the two of you could talk about just about anything.

Tonight, you find out that he likes hats, fine wine (especially bold reds), and surprisingly, rock music. Specifically certain types of alternative rock.

“No way,” you sputter, nearly choking on your drink when he tells you, “You like Visual Kei? That doesn’t seem like you!”

“Oh, really?” Chuuya’s tone is challenging, albeit a little playful thanks to the glass of port he’d just downed.

He leans in a little, a subtle glint in his blue eyes.

“What do I seem like?” he whispers, just low enough for you and only you to hear.

You take a slow sip of your Cabernet and think carefully before you answer.

Chuuya is fascinating to you.

There was something about him, about the way he carries himself, that makes him seem taller than his one-hundred-sixty-centimeter frame. Sure, the hat might be a part of it, but Chuuya is suave. Unlike other men you’d met or dated who were around his height, Chuuya doesn’t seem to be insecure about it. Out of habit, you’d made sure not to bring it up but you secretly suspected that if you did, he’d just laugh and point out that you were still just a tiny bit shorter.

“Well?” he asks again.

“You seem... sophisticated,” you decide at last, setting down your glass.

Slapping one black-gloved hand against the counter, Chuuya throws his head back and laughs.

“And Visual Kei is not sophisticated?”

You shrug.

“Honestly? With the hat and the whole...” you gesture to his outfit, “get-up, you seem more like a jazz kind of person. You know, something cool and refined--”

“Oi, Master,” Chuuya demands, his cheeks tinged with pink (he might’ve had a little too much today) as he addresses the bartender, a stately gentleman with a well-groomed mustache.

Chuuya points at you, looking very much amused and yet very flattered.

“Get a load of this! She thinks I’d be into jazz--!”

“I believe the young miss is calling you cool and refined, Chuuya-san,” the bartender states, with just a hint of a smile.

Chuuya stops laughing immediately. When he turns to look at you, you simply pick up your glass of wine and bring it back to your nose. You insist that you are only smiling because you are enjoying the aroma of the drink.

-----------------

Weeks pass and you continue to meet.

You start dressing up more for your outings to the bar and your friends and coworkers have taken notice.

“Oh?” another lady in your department comments brightly when she sees you strolling out in a pair of new, black heels. “Going on a date?”

“Not quite,” you say, but your chest warms at the idea of Chuuya seeing your weekly outings as “dates.”

“I’m just meeting a friend for drinks.”

“But you’ve been meeting this ‘friend’ for drinks for a while now, haven’t you?” your coworker presses, studying you closely. “What kind of person is he?”

She grins.

“Is he cute?”

You smile back, your expression giving nothing away.

“Since when did I say my friend was a ‘he?’“

“You didn’t have to,” your coworker responds, her grin widening.

---------------

“Yeah?”

Chuuya laughs, the sound bright and clear, like music to your ears.

His voice is more pleasant than the actual music (something jazzy and old-timey sounding) softly playing throughout the bar.

You smile.

“And then what happened?” he asked, propping his head up on the counter with one hand. His vibrant blue eyes are fully focused on you and they seem to sparkle in the soft light around the bar.

As you finish telling him the rest of your story (about an unfortunate incident that happened at work), Chuuya smile grows wider and he lets out another peal of laughter.

“Was it that funny?” you ask but Chuuya is too busy laughing to hear you.

His laughter is infectious and soon, you find yourself laughing too.

And then Chuuya lets out an actual snort. A loud one.

At once, his eyes widen and he rushes to cover up his face with one hand. His cheeks flood with pink. He looks so uncharacteristically flustered (and adorable) that you can’t help but laugh even harder.

"H-hey, stop that,” Chuuya snaps, but he’s still smiling.

You shake your head and try to apologize but it doesn’t come out quite the way you want it to because you’re still giggling a little.

“Well if you’re gonna keep going on like that...”

Chuuya leans in. His lips curl upwards in a devilish grin. There’s a glint of mischief in his deep blue eyes and your heartbeat quickens as his voice drops low.

“How ‘bout I give you something to really laugh about?”

You grin, take a small sip of your wine and lean in to mirror him.

“Yeah?” you challenge.

“Yeah.”

Chuuya’s grin widens. He looks into your eyes, at the way you refuse to back down and leans in even closer.

“What are you gonna do?” you ask, drawing closer to him.

“The sort of thing,” Chuuya says, “that gets cheeky girls like you to stop laughing.”

You’re only inches apart now.

“Then do it,” you whisper.

You’re staring into each others’ eyes. Neither of you seems willing to back down. The other patrons and even the bar itself seems to disappear...

And then, a slow and subtle flush creeps across Chuuya’s face. His blue eyes flick down towards your mouth and suddenly his grin falters.

Quick as a flash, his fingers wrap around your wineglass and he steals your drink.

“Hey!”

You reach forward to stop him but he’s chugged down the last sip in your glass before you could get it back.

“Ha!”

He slams the glass down on the table, nearly shattering it and looks up at you, his grin triumphant but not quite as self-assured as it usually is. His face is still very red.

“That’s what you get for laughing at me!”

But your eyes are on the wineglass in his hand, at the place where your lipstick had left a mark on the glass. That lipstick mark was now smudged and you could even see traces of the rouge on Chuuya’s lips.

“Ch-Chuuya-san...”

“What?” Chuuya asks, completely unaware of what he did.

He wipes his mouth carelessly with the back of one hand, orders you both a second round and you decide to let it slide.

You can’t bring yourself to tell him that what he just did was known as “an indirect kiss.”

Click here for Part #2

Click here for Part #3

#nakahara chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya nakahara #chuuya #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd chuuya #bsd nakahara chuuya #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x y/n #fanfiction #bungou sd #bsd #bsd x y/n #bsd x reader

139 notes · View notes

barze · 3 years ago

Photo

prince of darkness ? i always thought of myself as more of an archduke.

born and raised the only child of antonia and tyler cardoso, he was born griffin, but at some point in middle school began self-styling as gryffin. gryffin is more of a rockstar name anyway, and that was the big plan at the time. honestly, it’s still the big plan because he hasn’t put much thought into any other possibilities.

fan of and true believer of the weird and strange aka ghosts, demons, and aliens. he’s up to date on most theories about 3/5/67 and even has that styling of the infamous date tattooed on the inside of his left elbow. he also knows far more about adam falwell than seems necessary, along with a few theories about the cult of his own. runs a social media page called miriam’s weird.

all of that interest was created by comic books and thrift store paperbacks, so gryffin is pretty open minded about what’s possible. he used to save up for both, especially after his father lost his job as a truck driver for one of the warehouses out in zone 4.

around the same time gryffin changed his name, he started his first band. there hasn’t been a two week period since when he hasn’t been in a band. most of them didn’t last too long, some had the same rotating cast of characters, and none of them were exceptionally good. better over the years, yes, but it’s very much a local band, not anything that’ll be selling out arenas anytime soon.

gryffin is oblivious to this. he’s certain whatever he’s working on is the absolute coolest shit possible.

doesn’t respect authority ( hell yeah !!! punk rock !!! ) but has extreme respect for the shadow in the corner he’s convinced is a demon. “don’t talk shit about aliens, bro, they’ll get you.” “demons are pretty chill once you get to know them, and ghosts are just trying to live their life ... or whatever.” paradoxically, super casual about it. hangs out in saphire buddy’s occult shop even though he doesn’t know what he’s doing. keeps a tarot deck in his guitar case and thinks the crystals are pretty.

wears a lot of black but will not admit that he’s dying when the georgian summer is in full swing.

looking for:

band mates !! current and former. does everyone share gryffin’s optomism or maybe he’s got a more realisitic counterpart? if they’re not in the band anymore, was it just creative differences or did some shit go down?

exes ( romantic and platonic ) !! between comic books and epic rock songs, somewhere along the way gryffin started seeing the world as a collection of stories, which makes him both a great and shitty friend / partner. he likes grand gestures, but also big fights; dramatic exits and even more dramatic returns. to be clear he’s not trying to start shit, but he often acts without thinking and if it goes wrong at least he can write a song about it.

occult scene members !! did your grandfather get abducted by aliens? were you or a loved one impacted by a cult? you probably have a few thoughts about miriam’s weird and the kid who runs it. or maybe you also frequent sphère céleste and took pity on the kid and are explaining how to actually use that tarot deck he’s been lugging around.

unlikely friends !! gryffin is a pretty friendly kid, and -- despite his carefully crafted rockstar persona -- is kind of a nerd. give him friends from the comic shop, from the library, all the places he finds himself when he isn’t working or working on his music.

childhood friends !! kids from the block, those who grew up in little georgia and are just doing their best. biking around the neighborhood became driving nowhere with the radio on once they were sixteen, became finding parties and maybe even driving to the city to see concerts. people who have been there since the beginning.

tattoo artist !! i imagine gryffin has been going to the same artist since he started getting tattoos, or at least recently, and i would love it to be someone who has similar interests as him -- they talk about the weird and strange or maybe comic books while they put another piece of art on him.

followers & fans !! miriam’s weird isn’t crazy popular, but it has a sort of cult following with a specific group of people. likewise, if you’re into the diy music scene, maybe his band is one you’re into!

coworkers !! up in the air, but like it’s probably a bar. just some folks trying to survive late stage capitalism together. is gryffin a fun level of chaos to have around or are you about two more conversations about the barney and betty hill abduction from putting him through a wall? honestly those are both valid feelings.

#halfmoonrp #gryffincardoso

12 notes · View notes

g0ldengubler · 4 years ago

Text

(*i do not own this gif*)

A/N: (from wattpad): heyyy...how y'all doin? ugh i'm not too happy with the sex scene (even though i'm grateful that a friend of mine helped me with one of the paragraphs) but this is the best i can do right now with the mental state i'm in. pls bare with me with posting, my personal life has gone downhill so fast it's crazy. i wanted to get this up on halloween but it sadly didn't happen. i do apologize. but i hope ur excited for this fic! thank u so much for reading ilyyyyyyy :) (from tumblr): ok last post until tonight! sorry for the spam, i only had this so far so i thought why not throw it all on here now lol. but ok enjoy :)

Category: smut

CW: daddy kink; degradation (from both men to clover); penetration (female receiving); oral (m+f recieving and giving); drunk sex; praise kink; this chapter is not full of smut but you don't have to read the smut if you're uncomfortable

Word Count: 3235

positions | prologue

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Clover's POV~

~Two Years Later~

It's been two years since I joined the team, and I've never felt more at home than I did on my first week. Luke, Spencer and I have been named, 'The Golden Trio' thanks to Penelope. We've been stuck like glue ever since I beat them in poker, like the best friends I always wanted but never had. Because of what happen when I was a kid, I always stayed close to my dad and never felt the need to make friends. Sure, I'd have people that I'd see 5 days a week at school, but nothing as close as we were. During our days off, we'd get drunk and have a poker night or a chess night, teaching Luke how to play but he never seemed to understand it, so we'd slowly switch to UNO or Cards Against Humanity.

Today, Halloween of all days, was just another paperwork day. Sure, being out in the field was exciting, saving American citizens like how Emily saved me, but I found relaxation in looking over files and sending my behavioral advice. Everything was calm in the office with everyone doing their work, and some days we'd watch a movie in the conference room or play games when we either got done with our work early or, as Garcia would say, "All serial killers have taken the day off. Maybe even went to therapy."

As I walked back to my desk after turning in the last of my files to Emily, Rossi came out of his office and stood at the railing. "Everyone," he announced, "I think it's safe to say that for the first in several years, we do not have a case on Halloween night!"

Everyone cheered, especially Spencer. Halloween was his favorite holiday, you learned. He was very passionate about its spooky nature by dressing up in a scary mask at work, before having to take it off because of a case. He would pout when he would see Emily, Rossi, or Garcia come out, telling the team that we had a case. This year, however, I noticed a grin on his face that stretched from ear to ear.

"In honor of that, I will be throwing a party at my house and you're all invited. But don't think you could run away from my grandmother's recipe!"

I turned over to Spencer, who's desk was right next to mine, a curious grin growing on my face. "So doc, what are you going to be for Halloween?"

He leaned back in his chair and looked over to me, his left elbow pressed against the armrest. "I was originally going to go as Tom Baker's Doctor Who since I still have the cosplay from when Garcia and I tried going to a convention, but with how my hair looks now, I think I'll go as a mad scientist or, if I want to be more specific, Einstein himself."

"I can see you dressing up as Einstein," I smiled, "Hell, you could even go as Dr.Emmett Brown, himself."

"Who?"

I looked back at him, jaw falling to my desk. "You know, from Back to the Future?"

He still looked confused.

"Don't worry about it, Clover," Luke said as he walked over and sat at the desk in front of me, "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"Now I'm curious about this movie." Spencer said, his curious face getting curiouser and curiouser.

"Maybe we can sneak away from the party tonight at some point and watch it." I wink at him and the two began chuckling.

"Those movie's are the closest to nerd I'll ever get." said Luke, which sparked Spencer's interest even more.

"So what are you going to be tonight, Kingsley?"

I looked over at him with a smirk."Oh, Alvez, THAT is a surprise."

~That Night~

"They did the monnnster mash!"

Music was coming from all over the backyard and in the house. Everyone from the BAU was dressed up in their spooky (or sexy...or cutest) best and was dancing the night away with champagne in their hands. I had walked in a little bit late compared to everyone else, which somehow Rossi didn't give me a sassy but funny remark about it. Rossi and Krystall dressed up as Bonnie and Clyde, Tara, along with Jj, Emily, and Garcia, went as nuns, and Matt went as Rickey while his wife, Kristy, was Lucy.

Luke ended up going as Magic Mike, not because he was full of himself, that was way out of line for him, but because the team would joke that he could become a stripper if he had to and played along. Spencer was, indeed, Albert Einstein. Garcia must've helped him with his hair, getting it to stick out like Einstein's and spraying gray hairspray in his hair. Both looked really good in their costumes, I couldn't complain.

I walked in as a sexy devil. I'm not scared to dress sexy when I could. I was comfortable in my body and I wasn't doing it to get someone's attention. I just love to feel myself from time to time, almost like a confidence boost if I needed it. I walked over to my two dudes and saw their eyes bulging out of their heads as they turned around to see. I was in a tight red crop top that showed off the girlies, with red short shorts, black fishnet tights, and red heels. I had horns on the top of my head thanks to a headband, and a tail that was attached to my shorts. The two were completely shocked, but were the respectful men that I always knew they were.

As the night went on, I was kind of getting bored. While I loved being surrounded by my coworkers turned family, I wanted to get wasted. It was Halloween night for crying out loud, but I didn't like being drunk in front of a lot of people. Even when I would go to the club, I would just have one drink and then dance with everyone on the dance floor. I didn't trust my drunk self, not physically but just how my personality changes. It embarrassed me to no end, so I only trusted a few people. Two of them, obviously, being Spencer and Luke.

At one point, I was sitting on the couch in the living room by myself. Luke and Spencer came in and sat down next to me, asking me if I was ok. When I explained to them what I was feeling, they both grinned in unison as they looked at one another, then back at me. I knew exactly what they were thinking, and they were in for it. We said goodbye to everyone, grabbed our coats, and headed out the door where we all met up at Luke's place.

When we walked in, Spencer and I sat on his couch getting Back to the Future ready while Luke made us all drinks. As we watched, we ended up leaving our glasses on the table and started taking turns drinking the vodka bottle, numb to the burning sensation. After taking the last shot in the bottle, I set it down and lay back against the back of the couch and blacked out, letting the alcohol take over my mind and body. The last thing I remember was leaning my head against Spencer's shoulder, while my feet were on Luke's lap...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clover was giggling on Spencer's shoulder as her foot slowly rubbed over Luke's lap. Luke shifted his position on the couch, trying not to notice what that was doing to him. Not like he had a foot fetish or anything, but the amount of friction caused his pants grow tighter by the minute. Spencer, who had never been this drunk before in his life, started playing with her hair as he moved his arm around her. Spencer could tell that she was just as drunk as he was, but he didn't expect her to lay her hand on his chest, playing with the necklace he had around his neck. He tried to focus his attention to Back to the Future III, but once she started playing with the gold piece of metal with her mouth, he couldn't help but to look down at her, her eyes never leaving his.

He looked over to Luke, who had moved Clover's foot over and started palming himself through his pants. Spencer quickly looked away, trying not to give in to his own urges. He moved his focus back to Clover, who's eyes were still locked on him. Before he could do anything, she let go of the necklace and began to slowly move her hand down Spencer's chest.

"I know why Luke moved my foot away," she whispered as her hand gently fell on his lap. She moved her fingers ever so lightly over the bulge that was growing in his pants. She had also moved her foot back onto to Luke's bulge, rubbing over it softly.

The two looked at each other, almost in confusion at first. But then, they silently agreed that they were up for it, as Clover clearly was as well. Luke moved her foot off of it and stood up, pausing the movie as Spencer moved her hand out of the way and lifted her head up as he started to get up. He takes her hand and helps her up, grabbing Luke's hand before wobbling their way into his room. She jumped onto the bed as Spencer shut the door, letting the light from the moon and street lamps illuminate the room. The two stood in front of her before she motioned her finger for them to come over.

"You're one hell of a brat, Kingsley." Luke slurred as the two quickly walked over to her, plopping down on either side of her on the bed.

Clover leans in and kisses Luke while Spencer went for her neck, cupping her left breast and massaging it. The touch alone had a moan leave her lips and into Luke's as he moved his tongue on her bottom lip, asking for entrance. As their tongues melded together, Spencer moved the fabric of her top over and took her breast out of the cup of her bra, leaning in and began licking her nipple before taking the whole thing in his mouth sucking it. Clover broke the kiss and let out a whimper, which made both men chuckle as she leaned both of her arms behind her on the bed for support.

Luke looks over to Spencer as he lets go of her breast and looks up to Luke. "Do you think she'll stop being a brat if we do something like this?" Luke asks before moving his fingers down to her core, rubbing over her shorts. Clover bites her lip to hold in a gasp, which Luke wasn't too pleased by.

"Are you going to behave, little one?" Spencer asks as he plays with the waistband of her shorts, his lips ghosting her cheek.

Clover nods, still holding in a moan just from being touched. Luke grabs ahold of her jaw and quickly turns her face to look at him. "Use your words, princesa."

"Please," she whines.

Spencer has Clover buck her hips as he pulled her shorts and tights off of her. They notice how turned on she was on her panties and both lean in, biting and sucking on either side of her neck. Spencer's fingers linger the inside of her thighs while Luke went back to rubbing her through the cloth. She moves her hips against his fingers, begging for more.

"You were such a tease just a few minutes ago, and now look at you. So helpless and needy in a matter of seconds." says Spencer in between kisses.

Hearing that made Clover take her panties off in a swift, but quick, motion. She couldn't take it anymore, she needed their touch.

"Eager little girl, aren't you?" Luke chuckled.

It took a minute for her to realize that Spencer went straight in, sticking two fingers inside her and pumping slowly while Luke rubbed her pussy. Her brain had turned into mush full of pleasure that when they went in, she couldn't help but let out a loud moan. They sped up their movements, making her let out a silent scream.

"Fuck, daddy!" She gasped out.

The two were shocked, but didn't complain about the name. "Which one of us is daddy, kitten?" Spencer asked.

"You can't think straight, can you?" Luke asked.

Clover pulls Spencer in by his tie while pulling Luke in at the same time by his belt. "Shut up," she says breathy, "just shut up and fuck me."

"Don't go back to being a brat now," says Luke finally after a moment of silence, "You are going to behave or you'll be punished. And I don't think you'll like what we'll do."

Spencer continues to finger her quickly and deeply, curling his fingers as he hit her gspot every time while Luke rubs faster on her clit. Clover falls onto the bed as wave of pleasure hit her like a train. She closed her walls around Spencers fingers, getting closer and closer to release as he sped up his pace even more.

"Cum for me, little girl, I want you cum so hard on daddy's fingers."

Spencer connects his lips back to her neck as she screamed, letting the waves of pleasure shoot through her body. Luke rubs her slowly to let her ride out her orgasm as Spencer pulls his fingers out and sticks them in his mouth. The way he cleaned her off made her ache all over again, wanting more and more. She didn't want this to end; This was the most pleasure she's ever had.

Luke looks over as Spencer finished devouring her, removing his fingers from his mouth with a small pop. "She tastes so sweet."

Without a single word, Luke gets off the bed and kneels in front of it, pulling Clover by her knees closer to him. As Spencer started making out with her, Luke dives right in between her thighs, licking a single thick stripe up her core, making her moan through the kiss. As their tongues fought like swords in their mouths, Spencer starts to unbuckle his belt and pulled his pants with his boxers in a swift motion, letting his cock spring free. Before it could hit his stomach, however, she grabs onto it with her left hand and starting pumping him slowly. He groans into her mouth before breaking apart, watching her stroke his aching cock.

"Please, daddy. I need your cock so bad fUCK!"

Neither of the two knew who she was talking to, but they did know that it didn't matter. Luke gets up from the floor and takes his costume off while Spencer moved his position so that his knees were on the bed. Clover moves up a bit so that Luke could get back on. The two pump themselves a few times before they pushed themselves in. She took Spencer's cock in her mouth as Spencer grabs a handful of her hair, slowly pushing her down as Luke thrust. As soon as she was comfortable of their size, Luke began thrusting slowly. Clover moaned and grind against him, begging for more, which he happily obliged. Spencer groaned under his breath when she moaned, making him buck his hips forward, shoving his cock down her throat. She gagged on it, tears piercing her eyes.

Clover was at this moment, and maybe even every moment after this, beneath them. Spencer and Luke were exercising their rights to dominate, belittle, and humiliate her. Her holes were filled as her mind quickly unraveled from the rush of pleasure from every minute pulsation. She couldn't even follow their taunts anymore, and the only bit of rationale that she could muster was to be the best sex doll for her two dominators. Her pussy ached for more punishment as they admonished her sloppy performance. She moaned hungrily as she was ravaged, playing the broken slut; no, she was their broken slut. Eagerly enjoying their obvious amusement.

The knot in her stomach was getting tighter and tighter again. She knew Luke was just edging her, making her wait to cum until he was ready. He looked to Spencer, who was holding on for dear life, almost getting into some sort of sub space of his own as the look on his face was begging for release. Clover felt both of their cocks twitch inside her, letting her know they were close.

"Cum for us, princesa," Luke growls, "just one more time for daddy. I know you want to, baby."

Clover turned into a screaming, moaning mess as she came all over Luke's cock, making a huge mess on the bed. That was the last straw for the two men, as they both released inside her, filling her over the edge. The two pulled themselves out, Spencer laying next to Clover (who was showing him that she swallowed every last drop of him) while Luke watched his cum pool out from her, enjoying the view before he lay on the other side of her. Clover wiggled her arms through theirs, focusing on something to cuddle her way into. Spencer quickly grabbed tissues from his side of the bed and cleaned her up.

"You did so good, Clover." says Spencer. He throws the used tissues away in the waste bin beside him and turns back to see tears prickling from her eyes again. "Ssh ssh, it's ok," he coos as he wraps his arms around her. Spencer's soft praises mixed with Luke's gentle hand playing with her hair helped her come back down from the cloudy headspace she was in. She felt cared for and safe with them comforting her.

Clover snuggles into Spencer as Luke's arm wrapped around her waist, spooning behind her. Spencer kissed the top of her head as she nestled her head on his chest, letting the sleepiness that alcohol gave take over them.

As she drifted off to sleep, Clover hoped that she wouldn't forget this perfect night.

98 notes · View notes