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fortheloveofwonderland · 4 years ago

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A Memory Locked In The Heart - Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

A/N - Requested by the lovely @overduelibrarybooks I hope this was the kind of thing you were looking for!

Find my masterlist here.

My taglists are open and requests are open.

Requested: Yes l No

Request: "could u ever write a spencer reid x reader where reader def works for the cia but more as a translator who’s kinda forced into doing agenty things in order to gather intel and on a mandated break she finds out the UNSUB before the team does so she uses herself as bait, and shoots the guy all very badass fashion n then gets interrogated bc ms girl just shot him coldblood and halfway thru she recognizes spencer bc her mother and his mom lived in the same care facility??? idk sorry my mom has paranoid too so it just hits different but u don’t have to write this if u don’t want to i love ur writing <3"

CW: disclaimer: I know next to nothing about the CIA and what they investigate so please go easy on me here. This is all made up so hopefully it makes some kind of sense. Mentions of violence and sex work, schizophrenia, Alzheimer’s, some swears. Mentions of drug use and overdose. Spanish used towards the end is from Google Translate so I apologise if it isn’t completely accurate. Italics indicate flashbacks.

Plot: Eighteen years ago you met a boy named Spencer Reid whilst visiting your mother at Bennington Sanitorium. This time you are meeting under entirely different circumstances; across the table of an interrogation room.

WC: 5.3K

—————————————————————

How did I end up here?

That was a question you kept asking yourself as you rolled into your third hour of sitting in that cold, dimly lit interrogation room at the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia.

Well you supposed you’d have to go back to the beginning to truly work that out.

The CIA and FBI joint task force for a country wide sex trafficking ring they believed to be operating out of DC.

When your team at the CIA had started investigating it was estimated that the ring had close to a hundred women who had been abducted and forced into the sex industry.

A lot of women were believed to have been taken trying to cross the border. Your job as a translator had involved spending a lot of time in Mexico, helping interview witnesses and family members who didn’t speak English.

The FBI involvement had come when women believed to have been part of the trafficking ring started turning up dead.

At last count they were up to twenty bodies. The Behavioural Analyst Unit had given their profile of the man they believed to be running the show.

White male in his mid to late forties. Bilingual. Possibly born in Mexico or an area surrounding the border but grew up in DC, they assumed based on his knowledge of the area. He’s attractive, charming and has a good level of education, he’d need to be able to charm the women into trusting him. He doesn’t have a full time job because he wouldn’t have time for one. All his time and focus goes on his girls. He was tech savvy, incredibly so, he’d have to be, to be able to set up the network on the dark web which enabled his customers to pay for his services.

It hadn’t been going well. Bodies kept dropping and the task force was no closer to catching the person responsible.

This went on for six months. Everyone was exhausted. You kept hitting brick wall after brick wall. It was demoralising.

Your boss had called for mandated time off. You’d all argued but she had been absolutely adamant. You’d all been working yourselves to the bone and she didn’t want you burnt out entirely.

You’d argued but your words had fallen on deaf ears.

“Can I get you a glass of water or something?”

The voice startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see the lanky, messy haired agent who called himself Doctor Reid, sticking his head through the door.

“Is coffee an option?”

He smiled brightly at you, a smile you swear you’ve seen before.

“Coffee is always an option.” He told you. “How do you take it?”

“Strong and black. Please.”

“I’ll be right back.”

With that the door closed leaving you to your thoughts once more.

There was something so familiar about the Doctor. His dark yet sparkling eyes, his awkward smile and the way he dressed. You couldn’t place it. But there was definitely something about him that stirred some memory buried deep in your brain. You just weren’t sure what it was.

He returned a few minutes later, bringing your coffee into the room and placing it on the table in front of you.

“Hopefully you won’t be stuck here too much longer. It’s just standard procedure.” he spoke sweetly, his voice stirring the hidden memory.

“Yeah I know. I get it.” you sighed as you spoke, wrapping your hands around the coffee. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.” he smiled before he started backing out of the room. You wished you could ask him to stay because you felt so much more at ease with him around. But you knew you couldn’t.

He turned to you in the doorway.

“You look cold in that.” He smiled a little sadly at you.

You’d forgotten about your outfit choice. No self respecting CIA agent dressed like you were right now.

“I guess I am a little.” You shrugged.

Spencer instantly shrugged his blazer off of his shoulders and laid it in front of you on the table.

“Thank you Doctor Reid.” you spoke again before he disappeared out the door.

“Goodbye Agent Y/L/N.”

The door closed, his voice reverberating in your ears, dragging you into a long forgotten memory.

As you slipped his jacket on, your eyes fluttered closed, his scent wafting up your nose.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your eyes shot back open, a frown on your face.

“Spencer?” you muttered under your breath. “Spencer Reid.”

Where had you pulled that name from? And why did it feel oddly connected to Vegas?

You tried to push the thought away, you already had enough on your mind. There were much more pressing things to deal with than a vague memory from your hometown an undetermined amount of time ago.

***

You’d been instructed to switch off. Your time off should be used to recoup, relax and not to think about the case.

Easier said than done you thought.

Before you’d left the office on your mandated leave you’d taken photocopies of some files and slipped them into your bag. You knew you’d be in trouble if you were caught but you couldn’t help yourself. You wouldn’t be able to relax with this case still open.

As far as you were aware the BAU was still working on it but it provided you little comfort. In your time with the CIA you’d never gotten to be involved so heavily in a case. Your skills were mostly utilised in interview capacities and then you were sidelined.

You’d never had the privilege to work on a joint task force or investigate a crime so brutal.

You felt personally invested in this case. You thought if you could just find that one missing puzzle piece you could crack this case wide open.

And then you’d found it. The golden ticket. The smoking gun. The missing piece.

It had taken five days of your leave and copious amounts of coffee but you’d connected the dots no one else had.

You knew how to draw the unsub out. And you were going to do it tonight.

***

“Let’s start again from the beginning shall we?” Agent Rossi linked his fingers together on top of the table as he looked across at you, still slowly sipping your coffee.

“Oh goody.” You sighed. “Could Agent Jareau not fill you in what I’ve already told her?”

“Humour me.” The old man shrugged.

You didn’t have any ill will against him. Far from it. You were actually a big fan of David Rossi. But you were sick and tired of being treated like a criminal.

“Tell me how you managed to work out how to find him.”

You took another long sip of the coffee.

“All the pieces were there, they just hadn’t been put into place.��

“And how did you piece them together?”

“There was a pattern to where the women had been last seen. It was a guess more than anything. A lucky guess.”

“And the pattern was?”

You sighed in frustration.

“As I told agent Jareau,” you sipped your coffee. “The bars they were last seen in all had ties to Mexico. I’m not a native to DC but I know the area like the back of my hand. They were all either Mexican owned, had a Mexican name or were previously establishments such as Mexican restaurants. I made an educated guess that he frequented places such as these looking for his targets. I just got lucky I picked the right one.”

***

You felt incredibly exposed, but you supposed that was the point.

If you were going to get this guy's attention, you had to do this right.

It was a long shot. Just because Western’s bar was known for its famous tacos did not mean it would be the place he chose to pick up girls.

You just had to hope.

You wore a skimpy skirt that barely covered your ass, knee high boots and a crop top that accentuated your assets.

Your firearm was hidden in your left boot.

Your outfit garnered a lot of looks as you headed through Westerns towards the bar.

You felt men’s eyes on you from every angle, making you feel extremely self conscious. But you needed to keep your cool, exude confidence.

If your guy was here he needed to see you shine.

You ordered a soda to keep your head clear and sat at a table over the far side of the bar. From there you had a good view of the entrance and most of the room. And more importantly, the room had a view of you.

Three hours you sat there nursing your soda. It was a huge stab in the dark, you weren’t really surprised.

You finished your drink and headed out onto the cool DC street.

You made it five steps before you felt a presence behind you.

Just as you were about to turn, something covered your mouth.

You struggled against a pair of strong arms.

A smell wafted up your nose seconds before you lost consciousness.

Chloroform.

***

“Why didn’t you tell your unit chief before you went in?”

“Because I thought it was a long shot.” And because she would have been furious I was working the case.

“So you chose to use yourself as bait?”

“Yes.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Do you know how dangerous that could have been?” Rossi raised an eyebrow at you.

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Yes agent Rossi, I’m well aware. But I had a lead and I wasn’t going to ignore it.” You pulled Doctor Reid’s jacket tighter around your scantily clad body.

You caught his scent again. Coffee. Old books. A hint of peppermint.

Another long shut off memory wormed it’s way to the surface.

“So are you here visiting someone?”

“Yeah.” You smiled sadly. “My mom.”

“Oh.” He returned your sad smile. “Me too.”

“Agent Y/L/N?”

You were brought back by Rossi’s concerned voice.

“Hmm?”

“I said, what happened next? You were chloroformed and then what?”

You shook your head, your mind clouded.

“Can we take a break? I could really use some air.”

Rossi sighed with a small nod.

He stood from his chair and motioned you to follow him.

You got some odd looks from his fellow agents as he led you to the elevators. They all recognised what you were wearing as Spencer’s jacket.

You followed Rossi into the elevator and he pressed the button for the ground floor.

“Agent Rossi, can I ask you a strange question?” You asked as the doors closed.

He gave you a curious look.

“I suppose.”

“Doctor Reid. As in Spencer Reid?”

“The one and only.” Rossi frowned unsure what you were getting at.

“Where is he from?”

Rossi’s frown deepened, not sure he should tell you such things about his team. But you were an agent and you didn’t pose a threat to the team.

“Vegas I believe.”

Vegas. Of course.

“Ok.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know.” You chewed your lip. “I think I might have known him.”

“Oh?”

You wished you hadn’t opened your mouth. This was not the time or place.

“I’m probably wrong. Just forget I said anything.”

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. As you stepped out you pulled Spencer’s collar to your nose and sniffed it.

No you weren’t wrong.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Hi again.” You smiled at the lanky man, Spencer you’d met a few days ago. “How’s your mom?”

“Still angry at me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stubbed the toe of his shoe on the floor.

“She came in recently?”

“Yeah a few months ago. I turned eighteen and I was able to have her put into care.” He blanched, clearly feeling guilty for his decision.

“Do you want to grab a coffee?”

“Uhm sure.” He shrugged.

He followed you through to the day room. It was late and there were only a few patients inside and a few nurses milling around.

You got two cups of coffee from the machine and the two of you sat at a table together.

“Do you mind me asking what’s wrong with your mom?” You dared as you slid him the drink.

He sighed heavily, gnawing on his bottom lip as though his life depended on it.

“She’s a paranoid schizophrenic.” He spoke clinically, words he’d had to say too many times in his life. It was as though he’d distanced himself from it. Like he was giving a patient a diagnosis rather than talking about his own mother.

“Mine too.” You gave him a wry smile. You had something in common, just not something you would like to have in common.

“How long has your mom been here?”

“Three years. She got really bad and my dad couldn’t take care of her anymore. She’s been doing much better since she moved in here.”

“That’s good.” Spencer nodded. “I hope my mom realises I did this for her. For her well being. At the moment she’s just so...angry.”

You reached across the table and placed your hand on top of his. He seemed a little startled by the physical touch but you didn’t move your hand.

“This is the best place for her. I assume from what you said earlier your dad isn’t in the picture?”

He used his free hand to sip his coffee with a sad shake of his head.

“He left when I was ten. He couldn’t handle mom's illness.”

You gave his hand a small squeeze.

“I can’t imagine what it was like for you to have to look after her by yourself. It was hard enough with my dad there. Really makes you grow up fast.”

“It really does.” He agreed. “I’m not sure I ever got to be a kid.”

“I know that feeling.”

After that you spent hours chatting about anything and everything until way into the night. It wasn’t until a nurse came and asked you politely to leave that you realised how late it was.

“I’ll probably see you around?” You spoke as you stepped outside together.

“Maybe. In a few weeks I’m heading out of state. I’m working on a PhD.” He didn’t want to tell you it was actually his second PhD.

“Oh. Ok.” You tried to hide the disappointment from your voice.

Despite the circumstances you’d enjoyed talking to someone like minded, someone who understood. You didn’t have anyone else your own age you could talk to about this kind of thing.

“Maybe we could exchange numbers?” You blushed a little.

“I don’t have a cellphone.” He shrugged.

“Oh.”

“It’s not an excuse.” He sensed you didn’t believe him. “I’m not so into technology. I don’t even have email.”

Normally you would have thought it was just a bad excuse to get out of seeing you again but the look on Spencer’s face told you he was being genuine.

“Ok.” You gave him a shy smile. “Well maybe I’ll see you again before you leave.”

“I hope so.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at you on the dark street.

There was an air between you, some kind of thick tension but you didn’t know what it meant.

“If I don’t see you again,” you spoke trying to ignore whatever it was. “It was really good to meet you and I hope your mom gets used to the facility.”

“You too.” He smiled so genuinely at you, it made your heart skip a beat.

And then you went your separate ways.

***

“Ok, so what happened next?” Rossi wasted no time once you were back in the interrogation room.

“Well I blacked out after I was chloroformed so excuse me if I don’t remember.” You gave him a sarcastic smile.

“What’s the next thing you do remember?” He reworded his question.

“I woke up in a large basement. It was gritty and dingy. And there were other women there too.”

“How many?”

“At least twenty.” You sighed letting your mind travel back to the basement you never wanted to go back to. Not even in your mind.

***

You woke with a start, your head pounding. You gasped for air as though you’d been drowning.

You blinked your eyes trying to adjust to the dark room you found yourself in.

It was cold and damp and you could hear a pipe dripping in the distance.

You tried to roll over but your arm wouldn’t budge. You were met by a loud clanking sound when you tried.

You tugged your arm, hearing the same sound and being met with a sharp pain in your wrist.

“Good luck.” A woman’s voice scoffed. “They don’t come loose.”

You blinked a few more times, looking over to your left arm. There was a heavy metal cuff right around your wrist that was attached to a metal bed frame.

That’s when you realised you were laying on a small cot on top of a ratty, itchy blanket. You were still dressed, thank god.

You suddenly remembered your firearm concealed in your boot. You patted your left calf and sure enough you felt the hard weapon still inside.

That was something at least.

Oversight on their part.

You remembered the voice you’d heard before and turned as much as you could with your arm cuffed to take in the rest of the room.

There were at least forty other cots close together lining the walls, with at least half of them containing the body of other women.

The voice you’d heard belonged to a woman in the cot next to you. She gave you a smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Her eyes were broken.

“Hi,” you croaked. “I’m Y/N.”

“Delilah.” Her accent was Spanish. You were sure Delilah wasn’t her real name either.

“How long have you been here?”

She sighed, playing with a strand of curly black hair.

“What month is it?”

“September.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Not that long then. I’ve been here since July.” She looked confused as though that couldn’t be long enough.

“Delilah?” You narrowed your eyes on her. “What year do you think it is?”

“2018…” she saw your face drop and knew instantly it was no longer 2018.

“Oh gosh.” You felt for her, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s 2020.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Wow.”

“It’s ok.” You lowered your voice. “I’m CIA. I’m going to get us out of here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

***

“Delilah.” Rossi opened the file in front of him. “Was that Roberta Suez?”

He pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table. You averted your gaze.

“Yes and please I don’t need to see it, I was there.”

“How did she end up in hospital fighting for her life?”

“You know how.” You huffed. “Look I’m starting to get fed up with this now.” You folded your arms. “Carlos Ramirez was a sick son of a bitch. If I hadn’t done what I did he would have killed all those women. I don’t regret what I did.”

“How did she end up in hospital?” He repeated.

“Good lord.” You grumbled. “I’ll talk but I don’t want to talk to you.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes on you.

“No? But I’m so compassionate.” He spoke sarcastically.

“I won’t say another word unless it’s to Reid.” You looked up to the two way mirror. You didn’t know why but you had a feeling he was there.

Sure enough it was barely twenty seconds before the door opened and Doctor Reid himself stepped in the room.

“I got this Rossi.” Spencer told the older man who stood up with a shrug.

Rossi left the room while Spencer took the seat he’d been occupying.

Did he remember you? It had been close to twenty years since you’d last seen each other. Had it not been for the olfactory memory that struck you when you put on his jacket you might never have remembered him.

But you knew the rest of his team was behind the two way glass, or at least some of them were so it didn’t seem an appropriate time to ask such things.

“So agent Y/L/N,” he smiled softly at you. “Can you please tell me how Delilah ended up in hospital?”

“You already know the answer to that Doctor but since you asked so nicely,” you leant your elbows on the table, entwined your fingers and rested your chin the little bridge you’d created. “She had a drug overdose. But you and I both know it wasn’t her who administered the drugs.”

“And who did?”

“I did.”

Your words hung in the air between you and Spencer. He knew the answer, the whole team did. You’d already told Agent Jareau everything.

This was a huge waste of time.

“I administered the drugs because he told me if I didn’t he would kill me. I needed to stay alive so I could save those women.”

“Who said he would kill you?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“It wasn’t Ramirez?”

“No.” You shook your head. “If it was Ramirez I would have shot him. But it must have been one of his right hand men.”

“How would you know that? You’d never met Ramirez correct?” Spencer had a soft tone to his voice which made his line of questioning easier than Agent Jareau’s.

“I’m not a profiler but I’ve been to enough seminars over the years. He didn’t fit the bill. He was young, scatty, he didn’t strike as much fear into the other women as I thought the boss would. I made an educated guess and I was right. If I’d shot at him I would have blown my chance at getting Ramirez.”

***

“Shit shit shit!” You pulled yourself as close to Delilah’s cot as possible with your restraint. “Delilah, keep breathing, try to breath. Fuck I am sorry.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks, the empty needle you’d been made to inject in her vein between your cots on the floor.

He’d held a gun to your head and said he would shoot you if you didn’t do it. You didn’t think he was bluffing.

“It happens a lot.” A woman opposite spoke up. “You’ll soon find out. If she wakes up she’ll have the pleasure of returning the favour.” She gave you an almost manic grin.

If she wakes up. It was the if you were having the issue with.

“Who’s in charge around here?”

She shrugged.

“Don’t know his name. Big guy. Tattoos. Mustache. You can’t miss him.”

“Does he come down here often?”

Again she shrugged.

“Being down here you have a way of losing track of time.” She clicked her tongue. “But he’ll be here for you later. He has to test his new girls.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Test?” You swallowed, pretty sure you knew what she meant.

“He can’t very well expect you to make him money if he doesn’t know how good you are.”

Oh god.

Your heartbeat raced. No, it was not going to come to that. You were a CIA agent and you were armed.

It was not going to come to that.

***

Spencer’s face paled a little at your words. You hadn’t told Agent Jareau that part.

“He was going to...he didn’t…”

“No.” You cut him off, pushing the memory back down. “I had a gun, remember.”

You offered him a wry smile.

“So you know what comes next.”

“I’d like you to tell me.”

The way he said it was more like he was a therapist than an FBI agent. As though he wanted you to tell him so you could get it off your chest, unburden yourself, rather than for interrogation purposes.

“Ok.” You nodded. “He came for me later that night. And that’s when it happened.”

***

“Ahh look at you.”

A deep, Spanish voice woke you.

Your eyes fluttered open and landed on a strong, tattooed man with a mustache standing over your cot.

This must be him.

“Tan hermosa.”

So beautiful.

You tried not to shudder.

You sat up wiggling your legs in your boots to make sure you could still feel your firearm. You could.

“Su nombre es Rosa.”

Your name is Rosa.

Guess again.

“Su nombre es Y/N.”

“Tú hablas español?”

You speak Spanish?

“Si.”

“Eres perfecta.” He grinned menacingly. “My clients will love you.”

He reached in his pocket and fished out a key chain. He reached over you and unlocked your cuff.

You rolled your wrist to try and get your blood circulating again.

“On your feet.”

You complied and stood up. Your legs were shaky.

He grasped your wrist, hard enough so you couldn’t wriggle free but not hard enough to leave a mark. He started dragging you across the room.

With his free hand he undid the four locks on the large steel door and pulled your through it. Once on the other side he took care to lock them all again, keeping a firm grasp on you the whole time.

You were dragged down a long, narrow corridor towards another steel door, this one with just one lock on.

He slid the key in and opened it, pulled you inside and locked it behind him.

The room was much smaller than the one you’d been held in and only housed a single cot.

He licked his lip as he looked at you. His large, thick fingers stroked your cheek and you had to try and hide your disgust.

“En la cama. Ahora.”

On the bed. Now.

You had to pick the opportune moment. You had to plan this just right. You had no doubt he had a gun on him so if you faltered even slightly, he would kill you.

“Qué tal esto.”

How about this.

You made a show of licking your lips and then dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Whoa, feisty. I like it.” He grinned, his meaty hands going to his belt buckle.

Yes. Right where you wanted him.

While he was fumbling with his belt, you reached your hand back into your left boot, drawing your gun in one swift move.

You head butted him in the crotch, sending him stumbling backwards, crying out in pain.

“Mierda!” Shit. “Usted puta!”

You whore!

You were on your feet in a second, your gun trained on him.

“You will never hurt another woman again.” You spat, furious tears suddenly streaming from your eyes.

He looked up at you, his mouth opened to speak.

But the words didn’t come out as your bullet hit him between the eyes.

“Who’s the puta now?”

***

“I would say,” Spencer chewed his lip. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank god.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “And I did. If I hadn’t shot him, who knows how many other women would have died.”

Spencer pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Just so you know, we got word from the hospital a little while ago. Roberta Suez, Delilah, is going to be just fine.”

“Oh thank god.” You felt tears brimming your eyes.

He opened the door and turned back to you.

“Are you coming?”

“I can leave?”

“You were never under arrest.” He smirked at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You got up from the chair and Spencer motioned you out of the room.

“I’ll walk you out.” He showed you across the bullpen towards the elevators. There was an awkward air between the two of you.

Did you say anything? It didn’t seem as though he remembered you, was it worth reminding him?

He motioned you into the elevator first and he followed, pressing the button.

The elevator started its descent.

Time was running out.

“So uhm…” Spencer turned to you and turned too. “How’s your mom?”

A smile broke out on your features.

“I didn’t think you remembered me.”

“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “I recognised you the second you walked in.”

“It’s been twenty years.” You laughed.

“Eighteen years, seven months.” He corrected you. “But I could never forget your face.”

You blushed a little, averting your gaze.

“My moms doing ok. Thanks for asking. How’s your mom?” You looked back at him.

“Recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.” He told you sadly.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok. These things happen.” He shrugged. “Made it to thirty without having a schizophrenic break but now I have to wait until I’m older to find out if I’ll develop Alzheimer’s.”

The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped out, Spencer close behind.

“I really am sorry Spencer.”

“It’s ok.” He shrugged. “Is your mom still at Bennington? I used to see her when I went to visit my mom but I moved her out a little while ago.”

“Yeah she’s still there. She likes being close to my dad.”

You both hovered by the exit, not ready to say goodbye.

“Can I take you for coffee? If you don’t have anywhere else to be.” Spencer blushed as he spoke.

“I’d like that. A lot actually. But I’d really like to shower and change out of this getup.” You laughed. “How about dinner?”

“Dinner sounds perfect.” He grinned at you.

You gave him a smile and turned to leave but before you made it to the door Spencer spoke again.

“Y/N,” he called your name, his voice cracking a little. “You uh...you forgot something.”

You turned to face him curiously.

He walked closer to you and without a second thought, placed his hands on your face and kissed you.

For a second you stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

But after a few moments you wrapped your arms around his neck and opened your mouth to deepen the kiss.

When the kiss ended you were both smiling at one another.

“What was that for?” You asked softly.

“Oh you know…” he shrugged with a coy smile. “Just something that needed to be done.”

“I’ll meet you back here in a few hours.” You told him, touching his chest briefly.

“Ok.”

“Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.” He croaked.

And with that you sauntered out the doors but not out of his life.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Spencer?” You’d only made it a few paces away from Bennington before you stopped in your tracks, calling his name. “You uh...you forgot something.”

He turned to face you curiously.

You walked closer to him and without a second thought, placed your hands on his face and kissed him.

He stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

It was just a brief kiss, Spencer was too confused to do anything but stand there dumbly.

“Wh-what was that for?” He swallowed.

“Just something that needed to be done.” You smiled. “Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.”

And with that you sauntered back down the street, hoping that one day, the universe would lead you back into each other’s lives.

—————————————————————

Taglist (let me know if you would like to be added) -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl @measure-in-pain

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #david rossi #jennifer jareau #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader

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behindyourbarrette · 3 years ago

Text

Star Light, Star Bright

summary: The team goes camping on a long weekend. Turns out, it’s really easy to tell someone how you feel when you’re under a starry night sky.

pairing: spencer reid/reader

category: fluff, start to finish

warnings/includes: mention of food, a mild burn

work count: 4.1k

a/n: this is my fav thing i’ve written in a HOT SECOND. enjoy! pls reblog if you feel inclined, it helps me out a ton!

check it out on ao3

---

You’ve never found chicken pox to be more of a miracle.

In truth, you are a little saddened that Jack’s Boy Scout troop all got sick and their camping trip had to be postponed. This does not change the fact that you’re elated at the opportunity to nab Hotch’s campsite reservation. The team jumped at the chance for a vacation, the promised long weekend only truly promised in places without cell service.

You pick Spencer up early, the first of many people you’ve offered to drive out to the mountains. After tossing a very heavy-sounding duffel bag into your trunk, he clambers into the passenger seat. He strikes you as a little nervous—he won’t quite look at you as you wind your way out of D.C and towards the countryside.

“I’ve never been camping before, actually.” He says it quietly, mid-conversation about Boy Scouts and the safety of camping with children. There’s a 5-mile radius around Quantico where work is the only thing you can really think about. As you turn onto the highway, hands flexing against the wheel, you’re glad to be free of the office.

“Really? Never?”

It makes sense, the longer his sentence sits on your tongue. Vegas isn’t the most hospitable environment to camp in. You make a mental note to thank your parents for raising you on the East Coast, where the forests are frequent and the soil is actually fertile.

“Yeah. I’m not sure, I’m, uh, really suited for it.” You look at him now, the slight sadness in his eyes, and there are a thousand things you’d like to say. Instead, you reach across the center console, squeezing his hand in yours. Before he can say anything, you’ve returned your hand to the wheel, eyes fixed on the horizon.

---

You’ve lived in Virginia for a few years, but somehow you’ve never found it this breathtaking. You have no idea how you got roped into driving, given that Derek and Emily usually take the wheel, but you’re far from complaining. As you wind through the forest, the canopy of leaves casting a filter of sunshine over the ground, you’re left speechless. The trees part in favor of the dirt road, and you find yourself absorbed in the surplus of green and foliage as you drive.

“There’s over 15,000 acres of this. It’s the largest protected land preserve in the tri-state area.”

You turn your head to watch Spencer murmur, still absorbed in a book. For the first time, you notice that he’s wearing a polo shirt and a beanie that Penelope knit him for Christmas. The whole sight is so...un-Spencer like that you’re torn between finding it endearing and concerning. You gulp down everything you want to tell him, swallowing all of the unidentifiable feelings in your throat.

“I’m excited. I love camping. My dad used to take me here all the time.” He perks up at this, and closes his book. You nod, pursing your lips into a smile. You steal a quick glance at the backseat, where Penelope and Derek have fallen asleep.

“Can you keep a secret?”

You have Spencer’s attention now. He nods so vehemently you laugh, tearing your eyes away from his in favor of focusing on the road.

“I wanted to be a park ranger when I was younger.” You’re only a little embarrassed of this; the jump from environmentalist to federal agent is just laughable enough to warm your cheeks. Spencer’s eyes widen.

“Really? How did you—I mean, when did you decide to be a—actually, I take it back. Hugging trees is beneficial for your health, after all.” He smirks, and you reach out to punch him on the arm. He rubs the spot absently, a grin forming on his face as your blush deepens. You try to portray yourself to the team as someone who’s a little tougher than the little girl who cried when she found out that people litter in National Parks. With Spencer, it’s different. Still, you can’t bank on what he will or won’t tell Derek.

“If you tell anyone, I will kick your ass. Forget it.” You get the sense that you are not going to live this down. To your advantage, it’s Spencer who blushes this time, his cheeks warming a delicate pink.

“I can’t forget it, actually. I have an eidetic—ow!”

---

The campsite is glorious.

Or, as Penelope would put it, rustic. It’s the perfect happy medium between the forest and the lake nearby, with a trail leading to the beach just a few feet from the site. The trees filter out just enough sun so that it’s pleasantly warm out. There’s ample space for a few tents, and a bear locker. You’re seated at a picnic bench with the girls, unloading the food and cooking supplies as the boys attempt to put together tents. From what you can see and hear, it sounds like Derek is muscling his way through it, much to Spencer and Hotch’s chagrin.

“You’re glowing. What’s got you in such a good mood?” Emily nudges you in the side, a sly smile on her face as she screws the propane line into the campstove. You flush, and shrug your shoulders.

“I love camping. I’m just excited to be here with you guys.”

Penelope reaches across the table to hug you. She’s dressed perfectly for the occasion: you don’t think you’ve ever seen bedazzled hiking boots before, but there’s a first time for everything.

“You know, I’m surprised Spence came. He normally skips out on these kinds of things.” JJ looks back at you from the bear locker, where she’s stacking cans of soup and Hotch’s cooler. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment, but you look towards Spencer before she can say anything else. He’s managing to put up his tent surprisingly well; he’s only struggling with the final few posts as he stumbles around the uneven ground. You turn back to JJ, shrugging.

“I mean, I think he can appreciate the outdoors. He’s probably read Walden.”

Emily laughs, and you feel as though the conversation has finally let up. JJ has a point, but as soon as you had asked Spencer if he was coming, he had agreed. He doesn’t look particularly out of place, either. Over the course of the past hour, he’s somehow inherited a pair of sunglasses and a red flannel. You look away, pursing your lips.

“Okay, I think we’re done.” Derek calls, waving his arm to catch your attention. There are now five small tents, only a little crinkled and trampled over. Emily nods in approval, nudging one of them with the tip of her boot. It only shakes a little.

“Good job, guys. They look...structurally sound.” Hands on your hips, you bend to inspect the guys’ handiwork. Spencer winces as you tug on a tent’s zipper, and it whines in protest. You shrug, smiling as you straighten.

“We should check out the lake.” Derek gestures to the blue expanse of water in the distance, and Penelope squeals. You hear the sound of metal clinking together, and turn.

It’s Hotch, holding what you assume to be a fishing pole. While this should be very surprising, you can’t come up with anything funny to say. Emily makes a joke about the catch of the day, and Hotch doesn’t laugh.

“Are there canoes involved? I didn’t bring a suit.” JJ asks, arms crossed over her chest. You nod, pointing to the rental shack on the eastern side of the lake.

“You guys ready to get some sun?”

---

“You look cute in hiking boots, princess.” You should not find this as funny as you do. Maybe it’s the fact that Derek definitely had Penelope apply some sort of oil to his biceps while they were in a tent; there’s no way that he just naturally glistens like that. You squint up at him, shrugging your shoulders. While your outfit is a little unorthodox—you remembered to bring a bikini, but forgot water shoes—it’ll work just fine. Spencer enters your peripheral vision, wrinkling his nose in Derek’s direction. You resist the urge to smile at this.

“Spence.”

You get his attention, catching up to him in just a few steps. The beach is pretty, lacking in sand but perfectly cool and sunny. He’s wearing too-big sunglasses and, surprisingly, Bermuda shorts. You trudge along the rocky path, handing him a bottle of sunscreen.

“Come on, I need your help. Sunscreen me.”

He seems shocked, fiddling with the bottle. You turn your back to him, raising your arms as you walk backwards, waiting to hit him before you stop.

“Is sunscreen a verb?” His voice is a little hoarse, and you smirk.

“Would you prefer lotion? Massage?” You tease, and you can practically feel him tense up.

“N-no, I wouldn’t. Hold your hair up.”

You oblige, and it takes everything in you not to sigh as he rubs the cool sunscreen into your back. He has really, really big hands and nimble fingers. Biting your lip, you conjure a mental image of them. You feel a little silly for imagining his hands when he’s right there, but you don’t want him to stop touching you. He coats your skin, movements deft and purposeful. You turn, reaching for the bottle.

“Take off your glasses. Your turn.” You like being a little bossy; he flushes as you reach up to spread the lotion across his cheeks, dabbing gently. He exhales slowly, relaxing into your touch.

“Let’s go. You’re my canoe buddy.”

His mouth falls open in surprise, and an evil part of your brain wonders how it would feel to kiss it. The thought is gone before you can act on it, though, and you wave him towards the shore. He stands still, lingering by the campsite.

“I was going to read on the beach, actually—”

“Nope. Come on! I need a partner.”

—-

The lake is cool, and you make yourself busy by being a very unhelpful canoeing partner. Spencer is rowing surprisingly well, scooping water from below and propelling the boat forward. You, on the other hand, are focused on stretching out in the boat. The sun is deliciously warm on your skin, and the occasional splash of water is heaven to the touch.

“You know, there are two sets of oars. We’d get the most momentum if you rowed, too.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll row. I’m not any good at it, though. That’s why I needed a partner.” You pat him on the shoulder affectionately, reaching for the other oar. The motion tips the canoe forward a little, and panic flashes across Spencer’s face.

“Don’t do that again. I do not want to end up in this lake. Do you know how many bacteria are in most man made lakes? You don’t want to know.”

You are many things, but you are not a quitter. Testing the waters, you lean forward again as you row, a little out of sync with Spencer’s strokes.

“Please don’t capsize,”

Hotch calls out from the shore, and Spencer shoots you a look as if to say listen. You shrug, continuing to row and occasionally shifting your weight. The look on his face is worth it.

“You know how to swim, right?”

You ask, voice low and as inconspicuous as you can manage. This backfires—Spencer turns around to shake his head, unbalancing the boat. He lets go of his oar, tightening the strap on his life vest. You cling to the sides, laughing as you try to steady the canoe.

“Not funny. You know, boating related accidents are incredibly common.”

His voice drifts off as Derek and Emily’s boat passes by. Their sportsmanship is admirable; they’re working as a perfect unit, quickly propelling their canoe forward with quick rowing and a lot of effort.

Spencer is scolding you half-heartedly when you get caught in their wake. You couldn’t have steadied the boat if you tried; and before you can react the canoe is upside down and you’re cast into the cool blue.

“I’m going to contract a brain-eating amoeba.”

Spencer coughs, bobbing to the surface. You emerge a few moments later, laughing, and reach for him.

“Worth it. You have plenty of brains to be eaten, genius.”

You watch him try to contain his smile the entire way to the shore.

---

You’re drying off as the sun sets, splashes of pink and purple coating the sky. It’s incredible; over the lake you can see the entire expanse of fields and forest, laid out like a painting.

“You guys brought food, right?”

Emily calls out from the picnic bench. She’s toweling off, sunglasses in her hair as she jokes with Morgan. You nod, turning back to Spencer.

He’s thoroughly drenched. You feel a little guilty for tipping the boat over; he’s spent a decent amount of time wringing out his clothes, and as night falls a chill builds in the air. After pulling a jacket on, you toss him a towel.

“That was fun.”

Your eyes widen a little, genuine surprise lodging itself in your throat. He takes in the look on your face, smiling lightly.

“Better than reading on the beach?” You offer, but this is too good to be true.

“Marginally.”

You frown, suppressing a smirk as you catch the scent of propane drifting through the air. You both head in the direction of the camp stove, where Hotch is fiddling with the gas tank.

“That looks...unsafe.” Spencer mutters, brow furrowed.

Hotch shoots him a look, and you both back off in favor of finding Morgan and Garcia, who are attempting to start a bonfire.

You don’t expect this to happen.

Spencer is arguably your best friend. He’s been there for you through thick and thin. For better or for worse, you’ve had each other. This trip was supposed to be unifying, and a small part of you had even hoped that maybe, just maybe, it’d give you the bravery to say what you’ve been thinking for a while.

“I cannot believe you intentionally burn your marshmallows.”

Spencer is looking at you like you’ve committed a crime; you are very familiar with this expression, but being on the receiving end of it is new. Thankfully, you’re ready to defend your stance to near-death. A somewhat maniacal grin on your face, you stab another marshmallow onto a skewer and shove it directly into the fire.

“I’m with Pretty Boy on this one. That’s just cruel. It doesn’t even heat it all the way through.” You scowl in Derek’s direction, turning back to your now on-fire marshmallow. You pull it out of the flame, watching it sear as the group murmurs in distaste. It only took three hours to start a fire, and by that time Emily had managed to heat a can of soup on the campstove. Spirits were relatively high, all things considered.

You watch in wonder as the marshmallow curves, melting just how you like it. Before you can stop it, it falls straight down onto your leg.

“Shit. That’s like, on fire.”

You say, your voice rising in pitch and volume as it becomes increasingly clear that not only is the marshmallow very, very hot but it is not coming off. The group springs into unsure action, voices loud and panicked as you push away from both your chair and the fire. The physics of melting sugar be damned, Derek manages to scrape it off with his skewer, and you’re left with a very attractive hole in your pants and a patch of tender skin.

“How do you love camping?” JJ asks, eyes wide as she watches you brush yourself off. Stabbing another marshmallow onto your skewer, you shrug.

“It’s all part of the fun.”

This time, you don’t set your marshmallow on fire. You mimic Spencer, who is carefully rotating his marshmallow. There has to be a system for what he’s doing; he’s laser-focused on the fire, his entire face lit up by the flickering red and orange light. You lean in, and before long you fall into a rhythm of roasting a marshmallow to golden-brown perfection, then pressing it into a graham cracker. Emily is incredible at assembling s’mores, and by time the fire is just a few crackling embers everyone has a little chocolate smeared over their faces.

“I’m really glad we did this.” JJ’s voice is just above a whisper. She’s leaning against Emily, the two of them sharing a blanket as the fire slowly fades. Hotch nods sagely, a rare smile on his face.

“It’s nice. A break. Some fresh air. Trees.” You gesture to the forest around you, unable to contain a sheepish grin. When you look to your right, Spencer’s smiling too. Penelope squeezes your hand. As you watch the last log burn into ash, you wonder how you got so lucky.

---

Later, everyone is too tired to stargaze.

This fact wounds you deeply. Stargazing is your favorite part of camping; there is absolutely nothing that parallels the experience of driving away from the city and looking up into the constellations. To your dismay, everyone is in their tents by the time it’s dark enough to see the winks of light overhead.

You begrudgingly get ready for bed; stepping around the campsite, it’s clear to see that everyone has mostly turned in for the night. Derek and Penelope’s tent is dark. Emily, Hotch, and JJ are all snoring at varying volumes. Spencer’s light is on; you can see his shadow, leaning over to peer at a book. You brush your teeth, swatting bugs away as you stumble towards your tent.

You manage to spend thirty minutes in your tent before you lose your patience. This entire camping trip has been a dream; no work, no cell service, and the people you care about. You’ll be damned if you let it pass you by without checking absolutely everything off your list. You step, a little wobbly, towards the front of your tent. You tug the zipper open, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

On shaking legs, you tug your hiking boots on, the evening cold nipping at your ankles. Despite your attempts to lessen the noise, you watch Spencer’s shadow waver.

“Spence!” You stage-whisper, praying to every deity you can think of that he’s awake and the rest of the team isn’t. To your immediate relief, you watch him tug the zipper of his tent down and emerge, swatting at a few lingering mosquitoes. He looks a little cold; his cheeks are pink and he’s rubbing at his arms. The sight of him in a hoodie and flannel pajama pants is more endearing than you’d expect, and you exhale to clear your head.

“What’s going on?”

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, and you point to the sky. He takes a cursory glance up, and you watch his jaw fall slack as he takes in the starry skies.

“Come on. We can see better from over there.”

You wave him towards the beach. You know exactly where you’re headed; while you’ve never camped in this specific spot, you know how to reach your favorite place to stargaze. Spencer looks at you with something between curiosity and admiration as you lead the way with a flashlight. The forest is still awake and responsive at this hour, crickets chirping and leaves rustling as you step through the greenery.

You find it quickly; the boardwalk is unmistakable. It’s a field, like the ones you’ve been surrounded by all day. Spencer identifies the leaves as rhubarb plants as you step onto the wooden pathway. While any field would work, this one is ideal; the sky opens up as far as the eye can see, the trees parting to admire the world above.

“Here.” You turn off your flashlight, allowing your eyes to adjust to the low, blue moonlight. Spencer follows you as you crouch, laying with your back to the boardwalk. This is what you came for.

“Oh my God.” Your face splits into a grin once you hear Spencer’s voice, low and gravelly against your ear. The sky above is endless; all you can see is the expanse of the stratosphere, stars bright and darkness vast over your heads. You tear up a little; you always do. It feels like the universe is leaning down to meet you in the middle, pressing its face to yours.

“Tell me what you see. I know that you know what we’re looking at.”

You scoot a little closer, trying to absorb a little of his warmth. Eyes still fixed on the sky, Spencer begins.

“There’s so little light pollution. I...I’ve never seen this many stars at once.” His eyes narrow a little, and you watch as he absorbs the world above him.

“That’s Orion.” He points to a collection of stars to your left, a few brighter than the others.

“Those three in a row, that’s his belt. You might be able to see his bow, too, to the right.

The brightest one is six hundred and forty light years away. Betelgeuse.” His voice has dropped to a whisper, and you follow his every word. You can see the warrior above you, the stars winking at you as Spencer describes them.

You fall quiet after a few minutes, and the only sound is that of your slow, synced breaths. You feel as though Spencer has peeled the sky open and revealed it to you; with him, you can see another world entirely.

“We’re looking into the past right now.”

You turn to look at him, a laugh ready to bubble past your lips. You look back up at the sky, where he’s pointed to the Big Dipper.

“That’s Dubhe. We’re seeing light from before we were born.”

You nod, a tear sliding down your cheek and cooling before it reaches your nose. There is so much you would like to tell him before you are both light, visible in this moment from somewhere far away.

As you stare up into the starscape, you gasp. There’s a shooting star, dragging across the Pleiades and heading towards the western skies.

“Make a wish,” You breathe. Before you lose your nerve, you reach out to Spencer, lacing your fingers together. Turning your head, you watch as he grins up at the sky. His features are softer when drenched in moonlight; the slope of his nose, the arch of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw all bathed in a dreamy quality.

After the shooting star winks out, trailing across the dark and blinking into nothing, the silence feels heavier.

“What did you wish for?”

You’re sure that he can hear your heartbeat. The steady thrum of your heart against your ribcage is a drum, urging you forward. You watch his brow knit in consideration, before his gaze finally meets yours. His eyes are more hazel than you’ve ever noticed, each fleck of gold striking you as a star.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

His voice is soft, laced with something solemn beneath the surface. You nod, stealing a glance at the sky before you swallow your fear.

"I wished for you." You say quietly.

You don’t know who moves first, only that there’s a brief shuffle before you’re holding each other. He reaches to cradle your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before finally reaching your lips. Your hands ghost over his jaw, trailing down his neck as he laces his fingers into your hair. You can’t quite breathe, nor think, only repeat a simple refrain over and over, a prayer passing over your lips and into the dark.

Spencer.

---

The sun rises lazily, pink and orange brushstrokes against a blue sky. You’re awake early—to put it lightly, Spencer’s tent is cramped—and it feels good to breathe in the morning air. The team is still asleep, a few yards away as you stretch and take in the cool dawn.

You think maybe, this is all a dream. You’re not sure how else this would exist, so perfectly and wholly true. The universe is a benevolent thing, after all. There is no other explanation for Spencer Reid, the man the world got right.

“You have pancake batter in your hair,” You say, a little mournfully but still laughing. Still layered in jackets and hats, you feel as though you’re being warmed from the inside out. Spencer’s eyes widen, and he reaches up with a batter-covered hand to feel his hair. You laugh again, a little too loudly this time, and he shushes you between chuckles.

The campstove is quiet, the gas running blue as Spencer flips a pancake over. You neglected to tell him that folding the pancake mix in slowly would prevent...explosions. If you had warned him, you wouldn’t have the chance to kiss the flour off of his face, smiling against his cheeks. With a mittened hand, you brush the powder off of his eyelashes.

“Chocolate chips, right?”

You smile, nodding. He remembers how you like your pancakes. Turning away from him, you rifle through a storage bin for something you packed.

“Are you looking for syrup? It’s over here.” He calls, his voice soft against the hushed sounds of morning. The birds have begun to chirp, calling to each other in alternating duets. You shake your head, and present him with a contraption.

His eyes light up, and he looks at you with something a little wild and entirely resembling devotion. You reveal with your other hand a bag of coffee grounds from the coffee shop near your house, grinning up at him.

“I can’t believe you brought me a French press.”

You grin, turning your face as your cheeks burn. Maybe you had hoped this would happen, in slightly different words. After you both tuck into your pancakes, leaning over a plate on the same side of a picnic bench, you watch the sunrise. A bundle of puffy jackets and intertwined hands, you press your back into Spencer’s embrace.

As you watch the moon recede into the horizon, you hope that your past is standing hand and hand, gazing at you fondly.

#spencer reid fic #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #disco writes #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid oneshot #fic writing #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds self insert

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hockeyboysimagines · 3 years ago

Text

Say it to me softly

Chapter 9

Warnings: Language, this will also briefly touch on Nolan’s migraines. I won’t get in depth with but I have struggled off an on with them so I have some knowledge of how they work. Drinking/Alcohol. Bars, parties, sexual references. Pretty sure that’s it.

If you have not read Guess I always knew please do so. Haha there’s a few scenes in this chapter that won’t make sense otherwise.

Okay well this trade shocked me to be honest. It also has altered the end of Say it to me softly. There will be 1 more chapter after this one. Hopefully no other trades happen in the meantime and I don’t have to change anything else haha. I will miss Nolan as a Flyer but I hope he kills it this season and finds his way in Vegas. He’ll always be a Flyer to me💕

It took a while but everyone healed. There was no more Kayla, or Sarah or anyone and Nolan and Sawyer had a long awkward discussion about any and all girls he had been involved with in Philadelphia. It hurt, and she had cried and needed breaks but it made her feel better to know she wouldn’t be blindsided again.

Libby and Nash both forgave Joel and Travis and after Kevin apologized for the thousandth time they forgave him too. Things had gone back to normal but with a new rule. No more outsiders at team gatherings.

The team was playing well, and all had seemed to go back to normal. Nash and Travis continued to go on dates, and did a lot of kissing but hadn’t sealed the deal yet. Nolan and Sawyer stayed in each other’s apartments mostly as the rather turned bitter cold. Libby and Joel went home for Christmas to Syracuse and had returned a few days prior just before they returned to playing after break.

The Flyers had played an afternoon game, and the group had gone their separate ways after a big win against the Devils. Travis was taking Nash on another date, Joel and Libby were going out to dinner and Nolan just needed to rest. It had been a particularly physical one and he had taken a big hit from behind. He had gotten his revenge eventually, but he was tired and just wanted to spend the rest of the day in bed.

He was sitting with his bare back to her front, in between her legs. She was leaned against the headboard gently running her fingers through his hair.

“It’s getting so long.” She murmured, her nails lightly scratching his scalp. He closed his eyes and groaned. It felt so good, he never wanted her to stop. He had a headache, something that he’d been having frequently lately and the feeling of her fingers running his head was more soothing than any headache pill he had tried this far.

“Hey.” He said suddenly “Do you remember that year I got drafted?”

“Of course. It was both the greatest and worst year I’ve ever had. Why do you ask?”

He chuckled. He had been thinking about it for a few days. Every year, about mid way through the season everyone was talking about prospects. The last few months in Winnipeg had been very confusing for the both of them, and more than once the line of their friendship had blurred.

“Do you remember that day I did the interview with Bo?”

She chuckled “How could I forget. I remember the day before too.” Nolan’s gaze darkened for a moment. He would never truly be over that.

“Don’t even go there. I should have beat that fucking guy up behind school that day.” His big hand slid up her bare leg, leaving a tail of goosebumps in its wake.

“No sense living in the past. But why are we talking about this?”

“Well. I was just thinking about that party we went to, that day I interviewed with Bo.”

She frowned and chewed on her lip “Party? Did we?”

Of course she didn’t remember, she was wasted. Nolan chuckled a little remembering the whole thing. It wasn’t funny then, but it was definitely funny now. For him anyways.

“Oh yeah! I remember…kind of. I remember going but I don’t remember leaving, and I think I was crying at some point?”

“Do you remember why?”

She shook her head and gave him a small smile, head turning to the side “Nolan what are you getting at?”

“Well. You were crying that night. Because you thought Kaylee Smith was going to take me away from you. And then I brought you home and…you kissed me.”

Her mouth fell open and she craned her neck around to look at him. He wasn’t kidding, she could tell just by looking at him. She remembered the beginning of the day, but she had no recollection of them kissing or doing anything else. And Nolan had been keeping this secret for a really long time.

“I did what?”

He was laughing, and smiling a real Nolan Patrick smile “I swear.”

“And your just telling me this now?” She felt her cheeks flush. She had very rarely drank in high school, but she did remember being agitated about Kaylee Smith, who she had never really liked in the first place.

“Yeah I came looking for you and you were in the kitchen, and gosh you were so drunk. And I guess Kaylee told you she was going home with me and when I got you home you started crying and then you kissed me.”

She was shocked. He had been holding this in for years, and here he was laughing about it.

“And then of course I kissed you the night before I left. I really wanted to do it in the airport, but there was too many people watching.”

“That was the worst day of my life.”

“What?When I left?”

“No that night you kissed me.”

Nolan whipped his head around to look at her, face angry. She burst out laughing, tears stinging her eyes. I’m one swift movement Nolan had turned, pushing her on to her back, his big long body completely enveloping hers.

“Take it back.”

“The day you left was the worst day. But that kiss was a nice way to end the summer.”

“I think I knew then, like for sure.” He said pushing her hair over her shoulder.

“Knew what?”

“That I was in love with you. Like I said a few weeks ago, I guess I really always knew, but that was the big moment for me.”

“I really thought you were going to ask me to move with you that night.” She said quietly. She ran her hands up his bare shoulders and threaded them through his hair.

“I thought about it. Would you have said yes?”

She chewed on her lip before she nodded, smiling softly “I would have followed you anywhere Nolan Patrick.”

He smiled and rested his head on her chest, listening to her heart beat until he eventually fell asleep.

*******

The coming weeks brought Nash’s birthday and the first team get together since the brawl in Shayne’s living room.

Travis had agonized for weeks over what to get her, and finally decided on a thin diamond bracelet that sparkles each time it moved. They opted for going out, finding a bar that looked the other way at the underage members, and was big enough to house the group. The guys had a signing during the day, leaving the girls to get ready in Sawyer’s apartment. Nash had just left the bathroom, towel on her head passing Sawyer who was showering next, and sat in a chair pulling her phone out. She waited until she heard the shower turn on and saw Sawyer toss her clothing in the laundry bin before she slowly stood out of her chair. She crept forward careful to miss the squeaky piece of wood by the bathroom door, and leaned inside the bathroom.

“Nash what are you wearing?” She called over the spray of the shower head �� It’s not really like a club scene but more of a party right?”

Nash jumped into the bathroom and yanked the curtain open snapping a series of photos before letting out a loud cackle and bolting from the bathroom.

Sawyer gasped turning in shock “ NASH!”

Nash launched herself on Sawyers bed still cackling just as Libby came in.

“Hey what are you- Ohmygod where did you get those pictures?!” She knelt down to look at the photos on Nash’s screen.

Sawyer came stomping in, hair half washed towel wrapped around her.

“What the hell? Did you take pictures of me?!”

Nash turned the screen and showed her that she now had them queued up in a message to Nolan.

“Nash don’t you dare-“

“Oops!” she sang as she hit send. Libby started laughing.

“What are you laughing at? Wait till you see what I send to Joel.”

*******

Nolan get his phone buzz in his pocket. They were doing an autograph signing in some sports store but his mind was elsewhere. He pulled it out while they waited for the signing to begin and saw it was a picture message from Nash. He assumed it was a photo of Travis doing something stupid so he opened it casually arm stretched out in front of him. He felt his cheeks burn and his pants tighten when he saw that it wasn’t Travis but Sawyer in the shower.

Damn you Nash.

“What are you looking at?” Travis asked leaning over to peer at the screen.

“Get!” He said swatting him away and quickly closing out the message “Nothing.”

Travis grinned cheekily “Pat are you blushing?”

********

Nash’s birthday celebration was in full swing by 8:45. Everyone had arrived and was at least 2-3 drinks deep, and the girls had already talked Kevin into dancing with them. Everything was fine until Nash and Sawyer excused themselves to head to the bar. They were standing, waiting for drinks when Travis saw them approach. They looked harmless enough, just a few dumb frat guys out at the bar but after the one in the red hat gave Nash a once over one too many times Travis could feel a stab of anger poke him in the chest. Nolan however was watching interestedly eyes moving between the girls and Travis.

“ What are we doing?” Carter asked bumping Nolan as he threw himself down next to him.

“ Waiting to see how long it takes before he loses it.”

Carter smiled, and soon Kevin too had joined in.

“ Hey trav.”

“ Bro.”

“ You suck at hockey.”

“ Wash your hair. And what’s up with that facial hair?”

“ Yeah yeah. Don’t you own a razor?”

Theirs went on for a few more seconds until he finally turned to them. In that spilt second red hat put his hand on Nash’s lower back and another one of the guys tried to slide an arm around Sawyer’s shoulders. Nolan’s smile faded, and he rose slowly from his chair but Travis was already crossing the floor.

Red hat was putting out his most successful pick up line he had when he stopped speaking and was looking somewhere over Nash’s shoulder. She knew Travis was behind her and she took a small step back till she bumped into him. He was unrecognizable, his features angry and he jerked his head motioning for Sawyer to stand behind him. He was frozen in between two of them, stuff as a board, feeling like she was 16 again behind school with Kyle Welch. Her eyes searched the crowd for Nolan but it was Carter who reached her first.

“ Do we have a problem?” Travis asked. Heat radiated off of him, and Nash tried to back him up but he didn’t move. Nolan was hanging back, seeing as he had no intentions of fighting until red hats friends advanced. He took a step forward and the presence of his large frame seemed to jar some sense into the group. Kevin was behind him, still smiling but apprehensively.

Red hat smiled” No man. No problems.”

He held up his hands and stepped backwards “ she wasn’t that hot anyways.” He spat as he turned away, but one of the guys tried to pull Sawyer along with him and Travis knew there was no way he could stop Nolan if he snapped. Thankfully in the spilt second Joel had appeared quite literally out of nowhere, Libby in tow and gently pulled Sawyer’s arm out of their grasp, placing himself and Carter between Nolan and the guys. Nolan was enraged, an angry red blush spreading across his face. The guys made a few lewd comments as they disappeared through the crowd and left their group. Nash gave Travis a shake and smiled.

“It’s over. Now come on. I wanna dance.”

The rest of the evening was perfect. Drinks flowed easily, laughter was heard all around and even Nolan was more smiling more than usual. The music was loud, pulsating through the bar, and the alcohol was buzzing through Sawyer’s veins. She was dancing with Nash, swinging her long hair around and winding Nolan up from where he sat with the guys.

She looked so good that he had tried to persuade her to stay in. He had begged her to change, there was no way he could look at her dressed like that and not touch her all evening. But she swatted him away and dragged him out the door, mumbles and all. He watched her move, long legs sheathed in high waisted dark jeans, a sliver of skin peeking out under the hem of her shirt. Her long hair kept sliding around her back and shoulders catching the lights.

As the song ended, the girls came giggling back into the he booth, whispering in each others ears. As she neared him she smiled and he patted his knee for her to sit on. She sat wrapping her arms around his neck, and pushing up against him , kissing him heavily. Slightly surprised, he froze momentarily but responded. She pulled away smiling mischievously, as he chased her mouth and tried to pull her back to him.

“Uh uh.” She tapped him lightly on the nose ”Save all that for later.”

“What happens later?” He gave her waist a gentle squeeze and waggled his eyebrows. She leaned forward, lips brushing against his ear as she whispered.

“ Anything you want. I promise.”

Nolan gave a shaky chuckle and downed the rest of his drink. She kissed his cheek and sipped her own drink with a giggle as Carter and Kevin teased Travis goodnaturedly about the almost fight from earlier.

By 1 am everyone was either drunk or significantly buzzed and Sawyer and Carter were sharing a slice of cheesecake. Carter was leaned forward, head resting on his arm eyes closed, opening his mouth only when Sawyer fed him a bite off her fork. Nolan smiled as he watched Carter chew, eyes still closed and sighed.

“Sawyer. Your the best, and I love you so much. Sorry Pat but it’s true.” She have a breathy laugh and patted his head, running her fingers through his hair.

“Mmmm do that again.”

Nolan shook his head and looked around for Travis but couldn’t fine him. Joel and Libby’s were seated to his left, and Kevin sat next to Sawyer on the other side of the table. Nolan frowned turning in his seat to sweep the other side of the room when it dawned on him that Travis wasn’t the only person missing, and he smiled.

“Have you seen Travis?” He asked Kevin small smile still on his face. Kevin frowned and glanced around. Libby smiled eyes closed and rested her head on Joel’s shoulder.

“No actually I haven’t. Maybe Nash knows where he is.”

“I would think she might, considering she’s also missing.” Everyone’s head shot up, including Carter’s and a chorus of excited whispers erupted from the rest of the group.

“Is that right? What do you suppose they’re doing?” Joel asked.

“Hopefully Travis is getting it in.”

“Kevin!”

********

“It’s a party IN THE USA!”

Libby and Sawyer were drunk, giggling and falling all over one another in the backseat, while Joel attempted to drive them home. Libby kept belting out drunken mumbles, and finishing it off with party in the USA.

“ Joel! Sing with me it’s Trav’s favorite song!”

“ Yeah Joel sing with us!”

He shook his head chuckling, when a foot came in between them.

“Nolan tie my shooooooe.”

He looked down at her foot and smiled “ Sawyer. Your shoes have no laces.”

The girls were quiet for a split second before they dissolved into a fit of laughter, several snorts coming from the back seat. When Joel pulled up to Sawyer’s apartment he put the car in park and assisted Nolan in helping her from the backseat. Libby crawled up into the front and hung out the window.

“ Goodnight!” She called cheerily waving to Sawyer who had her arms wrapped around Nolan’s midsection, a big smile cracking her face wide open, a drunk blush across her cheeks. “ Don’t do anything I would do. And that’s a looooong list.” Joel pulled at the collar of his shirt laughing uncomfortably and gave Nolan a wave as he pulled away from the curb.

“So about that promise you made me earlier.” He said as they walked up the stairs. She looked up at him, blush across her cheeks, smile wide.

“Take me inside and I’ll keep it.”

*********

Nash and Travis lay next to each other both breathing heavily. After a few moments he reached into the drawer next to his bed and pulled a long black box out of it.

“What’s that?” She asked propping herself up. He handed it to her.

“Happy Birthday.” She smiled as she took it and pulled it open.

“Travis.” She said breathlessly “It’s beautiful.”

“No.” He said shaking his head and reaching forward to push her hair out of her face “Your beautiful.”

********

They saw less of Nash and Travis in the following day, all recovering from her birthday. Nolan and Sawyer had ventured to the store for the first time in weeks to do some afternoon shopping. The store was mostly empty, allowing them to move through it without having to stop to talk to fans and take any pictures. Nolan had wandered to a different aisle looking for something, as Sawyer strolled down her own aisle checking something off the list.

“Sawyer? “

She stopped short, turning to find the source of the voice, which sounded oddly familiar. Her blood ran cold, and she felt her face heat up. Kyle Welch, the king of campus in high school, captain of the football team, and colossal douche was standing there looking at her somewhat surprised. He still had that stupid smirk on his face, and wore his hair the same way he had then. He smiled smugly at her before taking a step forward. She felt dirty all over again, a sense of Deja Vu fogging up her brain and bringing her back to high school when he tired to get her to come home with him.

“Wow. Been a long time eh? You look great.” She watched him give her an up and down appreciatively, nearly gagging.

“Uh yeah long time.”

Not long enough

“How you been? You live in Philly now? “

She sighed pursing her lips, doing her best to be polite. It was clear he wasn’t going away without talking so she played along “I’m okay. And yeah I do. How are-“

“You single? Seeing anyone? Let’s grab a drink somewhere.”

“Oh uhm I don’t know I’m really busy with work and stuff.”

“Is that why you moved here? Work?”

No actually I moved here with-“

“Me.” The deep voice came from behind them making them both jump. Nolan was approaching, large smile stretched across his face but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was all too familiar as he came to stop behind her. Nolan had been big in high school but he was even larger now. He towered over Kyle, who took a small step back.

“Nolan...Nolan Patrick?” He scanned up all 6”2 inches of Nolan who stared unblinking at him.

“ Wow you got bigger. Uh so you two?” He said gesturing between them” I always had a feeling.”

Sawyer bit back a laugh looking up at Nolan.

“Yeah. If you’ll excuse us.” Nolan gripped either side of the cart and steered her away, glowering at Kyle and leaving him standing there awkwardly. As they turned to corner to the next aisle Sawyer let loose the laugh she had been holding in.

“ I can’t take you anywhere!” He growled stepping around her. He looked mad and started plucking things off shelves and chucking them absently into the cart.

“Nols-“

“Who does that guy think he is?” He bristled, scowling “ Talking to you after the way he behaved?”

“Nolan I-“

“I hate that guy. You know what I should go kick his ass.”

“Nolan would you just-“

He stopped short and turned around sharply “That’s it I’m gonna-“

“Nolan!” She grabbed him around the middle “It shouldn’t matter what happened back then. I’m here now with you.”

He took a deep breath in and let it out through his nose.

“Come on.” He said rubbing his forehead “I have a headache. Let’s get out of here.”

#joel farabee #nolan patrick fic #nolan patrick imagine #nolan patrick #nolpat #philadephia flyers #hockey fanfiction #hockeyblr #hockey blurbs #hockey tumblr #hockey writing #carter hart #kevin hayes #nhl x reader #nhl writing #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years ago

Text

Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 15

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M.

Ao3 | FFN

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*Six Weeks Later*

[Ron]

The flat is small but well-arranged. Bookshelves line the walls from floor to ceiling, maximizing the vertical space that only one of its residents can fully use. The kitchen is sparkling clean, save for two empty red wine-stained glasses in the sink. Usually, the dishes would be washed and stacked away before the clock strikes bedtime, but last night other, more fun activities got in the way.

The apartment's decor is simple — it has to balance the strikingly orange accent wall behind the television. The only other thing commanding attention is the large painting of a cityscape hanging on the wall across from the entry. It's an artistic rendering of a well-known skyline, characterized by neon lights, a replica of the Eiffel Tower, and a series of flashy hotels. Although the portrait might be recognizable to many, it's meaningful to only a few.

As the morning light peeks through the windows, the bedroom's blinds give up on filtering it out. The sun casts a ray across the pillows, illuminating the two sleeping figures entangled together in bed. Gentle and mild, the light is easier to ignore than an intense desert beam, and it takes a few moments for the tall, red-haired man to open his eyes.

When he does, he turns onto his side to bury his face into his pillow. The bed is warm and comfortable — the satin sheets were a worthwhile investment. Same for the pillow, which somehow maintains the perfect combination of cold and cozy. Ever since they bought a new, albeit expensive mattress, his back problems have become a thing of the past.

He smiles at the mountain of fluffy blankets beside him, topped with spirals of bushy brown locks. There's so much goddamn hair. It looks like a plush volcano of cushions is erupting with curly brown hair. He can't decide what he loves more: the explosion of brunette, the bright orange Chudley Cannons t-shirt, the black mens' boxers that have a little too much fabric for a woman, or the person it all belongs to.

Well, technically, the Cannons t-shirt and boxers are his, or at least, were his. But marriage is about sharing.

"Morning, wifey."

Hermione groans and covers her face with a pillow. "Too early."

Ron slips an arm around his wife, encouraging her to turn toward him. She obliges and snuggles up into the crook of his arm, where she fits perfectly. He presses a kiss to her forehead and nuzzles his head into her hair.

It would be easy to stay like this forever, ignoring real-life responsibilities. In a way, their bed has become an escape from reality, an oasis built upon the lessons they learned in Las Vegas. Defined by frequent 'I love you's, reprieves from work, and late-night explorations fueled by a glass of wine and the need to destress, it's the place that keeps them anchored to the magic. Who wouldn't want to stay forever?

But alas, they can't, as they have Maid of Honor and Best Man duties to attend to. Today is Harry and Ginny's wedding, and within a few hours, they need to transition from the carefree vacationers they became in Vegas to the highly organized planners helping to orchestrate the festivities.

Ron groans. Although their friends know they're together — they put on quite a show back in Las Vegas, after all — they haven't revealed the extent of their relationship, and the worst part about being in public together is pretending that Hermione's just his girlfriend.

"We should just tell everyone," murmurs Ron into Hermione's hair.

She chuckles and snuggles closer. "After the wedding. Let's not steal their thunder."

Steal their thunder. To be honest, Ron has frequently fantasized about stealing Harry and Ginny's thunder. A small part of him is jealous of their hen and stag weekend in Las Vegas and their elaborate wedding. Ron wants everyone to celebrate him and Hermione, and as time passes, he grows more desperate for them all to know.

"I want to steal their thunder."

"I know." Hermione gently pushes him over on his back and slides on top of him. The movement is swift and natural, and as always, she fits like a glove.

"Hmmm, hi," he says right before their lips meet. The kiss lingers; Hermione's teeth lightly latch to his bottom lip, driving him wild. Without breaking their kiss, Hermione shifts some of her weight onto her hips. She knows exactly what she's doing, and if Ron doesn't stop this train, they'll be late.

"Er-my-nee," he groans, pulling away. She pouts at him with her wide chocolate brown eyes, and it's all he can do to resist tangling himself back up in her arms. "Can I ask you a question?"

"What?"

"Do you wish we had more thunder?"

Hermione brushes a tuft of hair from Ron's forehead. "Sometimes. But I still wouldn't change a thing."

Ron smiles as she leans down for another kiss. Her fingers thread into her wild curls, prompting him to flip her over and land on top. He groans when she wraps her legs around his waist.

"You know we don't have time for this," he says between kisses. "We should get rea—"

"Shhhhh." She pulls him into her embrace and tightens her leg lock around his hips. "There's always time."

"Hey!" he teases, then leaning down toward her ear to whisper, "I take offense to that."

Ron doesn't give her time to respond before connecting his mouth to hers for another kiss. He can smell his cologne from the night before on her skin, yet it still tastes like Hermione when his lips travel from her mouth to the nape of her neck. A soft moan escapes her lips and sends him into a tizzy that leaves nothing else to do but get lost in her.

Six weeks in, and he's still convinced he'll never get sick of snogging Hermione Granger.

Plus, she's right — there's always time.

Harry and Ginny's wedding is just as elaborate as their weekend of partying in Las Vegas, but of course, classy. The venue is a converted warehouse, which initially horrified Molly, Ron and Ginny's mum, but it's unrecognizable after a few hours of decorating. They tie the knot underneath a trellis of climbing vines and twinkling lights illuminating the exposed brick wall behind them. Cafe lights drape from the ceiling beams, filtering the room's color just enough that everyone appears to glow. Each row of seats is marked by a simple bouquet and a periwinkle ribbon that matches the color of the bridesmaids' dresses, and the aisle appears to have been assaulted by flower petals, courtesy of Victoire, Ron and Ginny's niece, who recently discovered the true strength of her throwing arm.

Ginny has insisted that she and Harry walk down the aisle together as equals. Although originally disgruntled at the pushback on tradition, their father, Arthur, chokes up when he watches the pair approach the altar. Ginny's eyes sparkle with rare tears, and Harry can't keep his gaze off her radiant smile.

They're a couple in love, and there's not a doubt in the room.

Ginny's dress is simple — Hermione had said something about satin, but Ron doesn't remember the details. It's one of those dresses that doesn't dare pull focus from the woman wearing it, not that any dress could. Ron's always resented the Weasleys' fiery red hair and the way it sticks out like a sore thumb, but Ginny makes him think that maybe it isn't so bad after all.

While everyone watches the couple, Ron chances a glance at Hermione across the altar. He can hardly stand seeing her in her periwinkle bridesmaid dress, and he hopes to heaven his gawking isn't too noticeable. When he shifts his eyes in her direction, she turns her head back toward the bride and groom.

She was checking him out, too.

He doesn't have to keep his eyes on her for his imagination to run wild. That periwinkle dress turns white, and suddenly it's Hermione walking down the aisle. Her hair is tucked up into a spiral on top of her head, a few wisps escaping to frame her face.

Since it's his sister's wedding, Ron forces the image out of his mind, but he can't stop a wistful smile from forming on his lips and staying there throughout the ceremony.

When Harry and Ginny arrive at the altar, the music slows to a stop, and the officiant steps out from behind a curtain.

"Well, hello, folks!" says the blonde-haired man in a thick, mumbling American accent.

The wedding guests stare in silence at the man, who's dressed in white from head to toe, a greasy black wig barely covering his blonde locks.

Harry and Ginny burst into laughter, which breaks the seal for everyone else to follow suit.

"Yes! You got an Elvis impersonator!" shouts Fred, Ron and Ginny's brother, from the front row. "Someone check Mum's pulse."

With that, Ron snaps his head toward his mum, whose face has collapsed into her hands. Her body is heaving with what can only be sobs, or…

Laughter. Ron grins when he realizes that his mother's laughing hysterically.

At Molly's outburst, the tension and stuffiness of a formal event dissipate, and the ceremony continues flawlessly, having now been marked by Harry and Ginny's personalities. Elvis speaks to their bond, and even though he doesn't know the couple, he manages to capture how they approach life, always wearing their hearts on their sleeves and marching to their own beat. They've written heartfelt but humorous vows, expertly eliciting laughs and tears from their guests while they read them with shaky hands. They share their first kiss as a married couple to a round of applause and a standing ovation. Emboldened by the support, Harry picks up Ginny and drapes her over his shoulder as he skips back down the aisle to a chorus of cheers and whistles.

The wedding party follows the happy couple back down the aisle, starting with Ron and Hermione. They link arms and lock eyes, sharing a small, knowing smile. Ron wonders if she's also imagining the roles reversed, everyone clapping and celebrating for them as they traipse down the aisle after tying the knot.

What would the pseudo-Elvis have said about them if this were their ceremony, not Harry and Ginny's? Would he have spoken to how they disliked each other when they first met, and the utter disbelief they felt when they woke up next to one another in bed? Maybe he'd have talked about their strong determination to get a divorce and straighten everything out, followed by the looming 'what ifs' that kept knocking. What if they gave it a chance? What if they opened their hearts and it worked out? What if it was meant to be?

Maybe Elvis would have told a white lie at their request, saving their families the heartache of learning that they missed the original wedding, even though Ron and Hermione kind of missed it too.

That would be best wouldn't it? They could hire an Elvis to spin a new love story for their family, so they could keep the real one to themselves—not due to shame, but the simple fact that it's theirs.

Ron can't help but wonder.

Rather than a formal sit-down dinner, the ceremony transitions straight into a party. The delicate set-up of chairs and flowers clears into a dance floor. The doors to the warehouse open to an outdoor deck complete with a buffet and a dessert table, and a crowd forms at the bar.

Tugged away by Ginny, Hermione disappears into the crowd, and Ron becomes absorbed by friends and relatives. He'd rather stick with Hermione, but before he can locate her again, he's trapped in a conversation with long-lost family members. Old cousin Barny, Auntie Muriel and her flavor of the week — a scruffy looking man who introduces himself as Argus, and a neighbor who used to babysit when he was a toddler — he smiles through it all.

"Anyone special in your life, Ron?"

"I noticed the way you were looking at the brunette."

"Is it serious?"

"Should we be marking our calendars for another wedding?"

He deflects the expected questions — the ones that could draw attention away from the happy couple — with suggestive 'maybes' and 'we'll sees' although the truth, or at least a version of the truth, is evident on his face.

Yes, there is someone special. Yes, he was probably gawking at the beautiful brunette. Yes, it's serious enough that they live together.

"You're living together before you're married?" Auntie Muriel chimes in her most dismissive, judgemental tone.

Ron gives her a guilty look, a 'we're already married, you just don't know,' but to her, it's an admission of living together in sin.

"Well, I hope for your sake, she's the one."

"She definitely is," he says, nodding in a way he hopes ends the conversation.

Ron eventually negotiates an escape from small talk and heads to the bar for a slight reprieve. He slides into a seat and accepts a generous glass of champagne from the bartender. One sip reveals just how thirsty he is, and he lets out a satisfied sigh of relief before indulging in the rest of his glass.

"Another?" asks the bartender once he finishes.

"Erm, sure. Thanks."

While the bartender refills his glass, Ron takes a quick scan of the room. He's looking for Hermione, but she's nowhere to be found. His search doesn't last long as a certain someone slides into the barstool next to him and interrupts.

"Thank you for being here," says the dark-haired man beside him. "It means a lot."

"Ugh, not you," groans Ron, but his tone is laden with a touch of sarcasm only his best friend can decipher. "Should I say congratulations?"

"Yes, please," grins Harry. "Even though you've said it a million times."

"Well, you should soak it up because tomorrow, I'm done congratulating you," he says. "So needy."

"Cheers to you too," says Harry, clanking his champagne glass against Ron's.

"I've been meaning to ask you," says Ron, remembering Harry and Ginny's elaborate ceremony. "Why Elvis?"

Harry laughs. "Oh, Ludo? We met him at one of the casinos in Vegas."

"And you just asked him to officiate your wedding?"

"Well, he offered, and we didn't have anyone else," shrugged Harry. "To be honest, we were kind of drunk when we agreed, but Ginny wanted to bring some of Las Vegas into the wedding, so it worked out."

"Well, I liked him. I thought it was brilliant."

"I agree," grinned Harry. "So, will I get to congratulate you anytime soon?"

"Congratulate me for what?"

Harry rolls his eyes, aware that Ron is playing dumb. "Do you think you and Hermione will ever get married?"

"What makes you ask that?" Ron looks over at his best friend, and his expression that's full of excitement. Part of Ron loves that he and Hermione are the only people who know about their marriage. Another part of Ron just wishes he could share it all with his best friend. It doesn't feel right keeping him in the dark.

"You live together and seem pretty happy," continues Harry, oblivious to Ron's internal debate. "I'll admit, at first, I thought you two were moving fast, but you seem well suited for each other."

"After Hermione, you'll be the second person to know," says Ron, grinning at his friend.

"I'll take it!" says Harry. "Can I give you one piece of advice?"

"Sure, mate." Ron can't help but smirk — Harry's been married for barely two hours and is already touting marriage advice. Typical.

"If you know she's the one, don't overthink it. You'll just waste time."

Ron laughs softly. "I don't think that will be an issue for me."

"Good. I'm going to find my wife," says Harry, emphasizing the word like he's trying it on for size. "And you should go dance with your girlfriend. She looks like she could use a hand."

Harry motions across the room to where Hermione and Luna are alone at a cocktail table. There she is. Hermione's stiff body language is a stark contrast to Luna's eccentric gestures, and it appears that Hermione has become an unwilling audience for one of Luna's wild conspiracy theories.

"Happily," mutters Ron as Harry saunters off to find Ginny.

Ron meanders across the room to rescue Hermione from Luna's verbal clutches. Since she doesn't see him approach, he decides to surprise her by sneaking up behind her and looping his arms around her waist.

"Hi, girlfriend," he whispers into her ear.

"Hmmm." She seems to melt into his touch ."Hi, boyfriend."

"Sorry, Luna," says Ron, as he slides a hand down Hermione's arm and interlaces his fingers with hers. "I'm going to steal Hermione away for a dance."

"Of course! Have fun, you two," Luna says before turning around toward the crowd and skipping away, presumably in search of another unsuspecting guest to engage with.

"She's a lot, isn't she?" asks Ron.

"She's not too bad, once you get to know her. She's just talkative, that's all."

Ron tugs Hermione toward the dance floor where a smattering of couples intertwine, swaying to one of the rare slow songs in the D.J.'s repertoire. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he tightens his embrace, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"It's a little weird to call you my girlfriend."

"It sounds wrong," she says, her voice muffled by his dress shirt. "I was never your girlfriend. It's probably how people feel when they first start saying 'wife' or 'husband.'"

"I reckon you're right."

Ron reflects on the first time he called Hermione "wifey." It didn't feel weird at all, probably because it was a joke. Eventually, the joke just turned real.

"Hubby suits you better, anyway," says Hermione. She always seems to know what he's thinking, but he doesn't mind one bit.

"I agree, love." Even now, Hermione can still make his cheeks tinge red with a simple statement. "Are you enjoying the wedding?"

He can feel her nodding against his chest. "Yeah," she mumbles. "Although, it was a lot of work. Are you?"

Ron shrugs. "Ours was better, I think."

Hermione laughs. "I'm sure it was. Too bad we can't remember it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ron can see Harry and Ginny embracing on the dance floor, surrounded by his grinning family. A spotlight shines on them, and at the sound of clinking glasses, they lock eyes and share a kiss. When they make contact, the bystanders whoop and whistle. "Maybe they should have gotten hitched in Vegas like us. This is a lot of commotion."

"Well, you know Harry and Ginny," says Hermione as she loosens her embrace to glance over at the couple. "They like their parties."

"They do," he says, tugging Hermione back into his arms. "What would you have done if this was your wedding?"

Ron expects Hermione to take some time for her answer, but surprisingly, she has one at the ready. "It would have been smaller. Maybe a live band instead of a D.J. And red velvet cake."

Ron smiles into her hair as she continues.

"I probably wouldn't have had a huge wedding party. Probably just a maid of honor. Intimate rooftop ceremony. I'd write my own vows. I even have photos of my dream dress."

Ron chuckles. "You have it all planned out."

"I never really planned it, I just knew." She's smiling when she pulls away and meets his eye, but her smile fades into a frown. "But seriously, I wouldn't change a thing."

She must have interpreted his pensive look as disappointment. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Let's plan it."

"Plan what?"

"Our rooftop wedding," he says as the color pink creeps up his neck.

"Ron, we're already married." Despite her deadpan tone, there's a twinkle in her eye and a soft smirk hiding behind her lips.

"Then let's get married again."

She narrows her eyes at him, and Ron can almost see the gears turning inside her head. "You don't think that would be a waste of time and money?"

"No. Not at all. Plus, I couldn't stop picturing you walking down the aisle today, and I'd love to see you in your dream dress."

She leans back and stares at him for a few moments, clearly running questions through her mind. When she finally speaks, her eyes are glassy with held-back tears, and a smile lifts her words. "You're serious?"

"Hermione Granger," he states in his most serious tone. "Will you marry me again?"

Their feet stop moving, and she bores her gaze into his. Her answer is swimming in her eyes, but he waits for her to verbalize it. "Of course I will. I'd marry you every day."

Ron barely has time to smile before she's pressing her lips against his. He responds so enthusiastically that it could very well be their first or thousandth kiss, lifting her gently off her feet. They're probably drawing attention to themselves, but Ron doesn't mind. It's like she's the only person in the room.

That seems to happen a lot.

Ron sets her back down and slides his hands down her arms, landing at her unadorned fingers. He rubs a thumb across her left hand, desperately wishing he had brought the ring. He didn't think to bring it to the wedding.

The ring — a modest emerald-cut solitaire in yellow gold, is still safely stashed in his bedside drawer, hidden by a few football magazines. He had a whole plan that didn't include a quiet proposal at someone else's wedding, but sometimes the best things in life are accidents.

"I have a ring, you know."

"You do?" she asks, her eyebrows raised. "You planned this?"

Ron laughs. "Well, sort of. But I wasn't planning on asking you tonight. Didn't want to steal anyone's thunder."

"When were you going to ask?"

He had it all planned out. A surprise candlelight dinner at their flat. A homemade cocktail — his best attempt at Liquid Luck. Slow-dancing in a dimly lit living room, furniture pushed against the wall to make room. Dropping to one knee in the middle of a dance. Strawberries and whipped cream. It would have been perfect.

But this is perfect too.

"I was going to propose six months in. Since that's when you can finally divorce me if you want to—"

"Right. Divorce," she scoffs. "When did you buy the ring?"

Ron averts his gaze when he answers. He hasn't planned on telling her this part. "In Las Vegas."

"That early?" she asks, her tone suspicious.

He nods.

"You knew you wanted to stay with me?"

"Of course, I did. Didn't you know, too?"

She smiles and answers him with another kiss. This time it's slow and loving, taking its time. Their bodies seem to melt together into one.

"That would have been so sweet," she says when they eventually break free.

"We can stick to the original plan if you'd prefer that—"

"No!" Her eyes widen as if she's afraid he'll take it back. "When have we ever followed plans?"

Ron grins. There it is — that spontaneous Hermione that only he gets to see. "And you were worried 'Vegas Hermione' would disappear completely," he says, tucking a hair behind her ear.

"I guess she's here to stay," says Hermione as she nestles her head into the crook of Ron's neck where it fits so perfectly. "I love you so much, Ron."

"I love you more, fiance."

Ron can't help but wince at her new title. 'Fiance' sounds just as odd as 'girlfriend,' and it'll only be true for a small fraction of their lives together — not enough time to get used to it.

"I still like 'wifey' better," she says as though reading his mind.

He does too. "Then I guess we have another wedding to plan."

"I guess we do," she says. "And what about our real wedding? Do you want to tell people?"

"Should we?"

"No," she says before securing her arms around his neck. "That wedding can stay ours."

Ron smiles as his lips meet hers. The desire for everyone to know is still there, but less so. They'll get to celebrate a 'real' wedding together, their guests blissfully ignorant of Ron and Hermione's little secret. It's a perfect plan, really.

Someday they might reveal the truth. They might let it slip in conversation, or accidentally admit it to Harry and Ginny after a few cocktails, or decide to tell their future children.

But until then, their original wedding can just be theirs.

*THE END*

#be11a_vegas #Ron Weasley #ronweasley #Hermione Granger #hermionegranger #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #romionecom #hpromione #muggle AU

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spencers-dria · 3 years ago

Text

Talk of the Future

Ch. 24 of Someone to Stay

Trigger/content warnings: mentions of family, inability to conceive, Spencer’s anxiety, brief mention of Y/N’s trauma

“Babe, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. If you need to stay home I’ll stay here with you.”

“This is the first night out I have had in weeks. You are not taking this away from me Spencer Reid.” She makes a silly face, sticking her tongue out at me just to tease.

“Oh you’re gonna regret that!” I run over, pick her up, and toss her on the bed within a matter of seconds.

She squeals at me to “stop”, no real protest in her voice as I tickle her sides. I think her laugh may just be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

I finally give her a break from the tickle torture, opting to cover her face in as many kisses as possible, and the giggles continue. She finally grabs my face to pull me into her lips, moving with a slow and deep desire that leaves me feeling enchanted.

“As much as I’d love to continue… we are definitely going to be late if you don’t let me finish getting ready.”

“You look beautiful just as you are, love.”

“I appreciate the thought, Spence, but I’m not going to dinner with your team in sweatpants,” she teases.

An hour or so later, we are both dressed up, sitting at a restaurant with the rest of my team and the love of my life.

“So, what have you two been up to lately?” JJ asks with a warm smile.

“Mostly just recovering,” Y/N answers. “But my parents did come visit last week. It was the first opportunity to check up on me after the accident… but most importantly they finally got to meet Spencer in person! They loved him of course! Who wouldn’t?”

I look over and meet her eyes, and she’s beaming up at me like she’s proud, proud to call me her’s. I wouldn’t want to be anyone else’s.

“We’re actually flying out to Vegas this weekend so Y/N can finally meet my mom!” I can’t help but wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her close so I can kiss the temple of her head. The idea of her meeting my mom brings me more joy than I can comprehend. They are the most important people in my life.

“Meeting the future mother in law huh?”

Derek teases her with a playful wink. “Any talk of the future yet from you two love birds?”

I worry that it might be too much, but she only leans into me more, a smile still adorning her features as she answers for us.

“There’s definitely been talk. We both know we want a family together, whenever the time feels right. I trust Spence with that.”

To hear her admit it, to the people who are basically my family, it warms my heart. She trusts me… she wants a future with me. And I know without a doubt, she is my future.

———————————————————-

A few days later and it’s time. We’re in Vegas on our way to see my mother. Of course I’m excited but there are nerves too. Naturally Y/N picks up on it. She may not be a profiler in the BAU, but she knows me better than anyone now.

“Hey,” she reaches over, grabbing my hand before we walk through the doors at the facility. “Are you ok doing this?” “If you’re not ready we can-“

“No. No that’s not it at all. I’ve been ready for you to meet my mom since… since that night I showed up at your door. Our first date. I’ve known you were special for a long time. It’s just important to me that everything goes well.”

As we wait outside the door, she holds my hands in hers, prompting me to take a few deep breaths before leaving a gentle kiss on my cheek. I look at her and know, with her by my side, I’m ready for anything.

We walk in together, hand in hand.

_____________________________________

It’s been such a great visit. My mom insisted on telling Y/N all about what I was like growing up, as well as asking her questions about her own family and experience. And then it happened.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, dear, but do you think you see yourself and Spencer starting a family together?”

I feel every muscle in my body tense at the question. She didn’t know. I hadn’t told her because… well I knew I could never love Y/N any less for it, but I did have my worries about disappointing my own mother. She’d always said what a great father I would make, and had dreamed of being a grandparent.

Y/N seem to take the question and answer with more grace and ease than I could have ever asked for. She placed her hand on her belly, looking down at it for a moment before answering.

“I had an accident while back, and I can’t… well I can no longer get pregnant. It’s alright though. I don’t have any plans to let that stop me from giving Spencer the family he deserves.”

My mom looks at us not with pity, but with love. And I find myself struggling to hold back the tears that settle in my eyes.

“It looks like the two of you already make a beautiful family together. I’m so happy for you, both of you. I’m proud to have you as a daughter, Y/N.”

That was the line. A few tears ran down my cheeks as I watched Y/N cross the room and embrace my mother in a hug, whispering a thank you before kissing her cheek. We aren’t even engaged and my mom has already accepted her as family. She didn’t look disappointed in the slightest. I have no idea how I came to be so blessed.

____________________________________

A/N: I know this ones short but I needed to set up for the next chapter which will hopefully becoming much sooner! Sorry for the long awaited updates... I started travel nursing and packed up my life and moved to a new state by myself all in the last week! I hope to update for frequently. Once I finish I already know what I’ll be writing next! Very different story vibe for Thrill of the Chase

#criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer x reader #mgg #spencer reid x y/n #original story #spencer #family #infertility #traumas #Spotify

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literaila · 4 years ago

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how could this ever be different (2) ?

part two

spencer reid x reader

summary: Spencer goes undercover in Las Vegas, he may just catch feelings along the way... warnings: innacurate things about Las Vegas because I’ve never been, BAU stuff, dumb spencer, love him, nothing else, except this is really just a “get to know y/n” series masterlist here

Spencer wasn't sure what he was expecting.

There were so many things that could happen, so many possibilities, so many things that were unknown, so many things he didn't have the statistics for.

He didn't know anything about going undercover, nothing besides the week he got to spend cramming his brain with information before he left for Las Vegas.

He hadn't gotten very far.

It seemed that every situation was unique, that no agent who had ever been undercover could give any information. Every person, every unsub, was different, and there was no specific way to deal with the situation.

Spencer didn't like going into situations he didn't know anything about.

He’d asked Garica to get him a file on Y/N.

And here's what he knew about her: she had a masters degree, which wasn't being put to use, she’d been working at that same bookstore for two years, she’d lived her whole life in Las Vegas, she had a brother, and her parents weren't anywhere to be found.

That was it. Just tiny details.

He hoped it would be enough to get him started.

After a week had gone by the plans were made, he was going to live in a small apartment close to the book shop, he was going to send a report once a day, and otherwise, no one was to contact him unless he needed anything.

He was going to be completely alone. With a murder suspect.

He would be fine.

They all said he would be fine. They were probably right. He could do this.

***

Spencer hadn't slept at all the night he’d moved in.

He hadn't brought everything, knowing that- hopefully -he would be moving back home in only a couple of weeks. But even with the few things he had brought, his toothbrush, books, and some clothes, he still had to unpack.

And it didn't exhaust him like he had hoped it would.

He’d tossed and turned all night, anxiety wracking at his bones. He had no idea what he was doing, no idea what to expect, and on top of that, he had people depending on him.

The more-than-usual dark spots under his eyes could prove that.

But he had a job to do, he had a girl to get to know, and a murder to catch.

He walked to the bookstore early in the morning, hoping to get there before it opened just so he could know where he was going. Although he had lived there as a kid, things had changed so much, he could only recognize the layout, not the places.

It was a small little shop. It looked like a bookstore with a cafe in it. He could tell there was no one in there, which he had guessed, it being only five in the morning.

He was going to wait. There was a bench close enough to the store, he would wait there and finalize his plan.

It turned out that Spencer was more tired than expecting. And that the bench he was sitting on was extremely comfortable.

He fell asleep thirty minutes into waiting.

The sun rested on his face in a warm glow, his body was curled into itself- at least as much as it could be while sitting on a bench -and his hand rested gently against his face, holding his head up. His eyes fluttered as he breathed, in and out, on a bench where he was just supposed to wait. It was so warm.

People passed by and gave him acknowledging looks. All of them knew what it was like to fall asleep after a night out.

Spencer didn't see them, too at peace to notice anything around him.

Except, of course, the person gently shaking his shoulder.

He opened his eyes to be blinded by the sun, he could feel the red forming on his cheeks, a sunburn imminent. He could only see a shadow of a person standing in front of him.

He wondered why he was being blinded by the sun for a moment before he remembered falling asleep.

Oh.

He sat up, his back cracking at the quick motion, he squinted his eyes and looked back up at the person who had woke him up.

They were staring at him with anxious eyes.

She was.

“Are you alright?” her modulated voice sounded almost as anxious as her eyes looked, her mouth turned down as she waited for his response. He could tell how closed off she was, her arms crossed over her chest, her leg shaking as she stood in front of him.

He shook his head, trying to wake his mind up, trying to get his eyes to stay open. He still felt so tired.

“You’re not? Is there something I can do? I can call-” she rushed out again, her face only more panicked. Spencer quickly realized she thought he was shaking his head at her question.

“No, no.” he interrupted her, not wanting her to get too overworked. “Sorry,” he anxiously laughed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I just fell asleep waiting for the stores to open.”

He looked back up at her eyes, her insistent eye contact making him nervous, and he watched as she squinted at him.

“Are you sure?” she asked again, almost as if she thought he was lying to her.

“Yes, yeah” he cleared his throat, standing up, his legs wobbling under the pressure. “Um, I’m fine,” he said again, his eyes widened as he got used to the quick rush of blood to his head.

“Sir, I can call you a cab. Um, I don't know if you should be walking around alone in your condition.” Her voice caught his attention again, and he looked down at her, noticing the height difference between the two of them. He hadn't noticed she was still standing there.

His brows furrowed and his mouth shaped into a flat line, “In my condition?” he asked, confused, almost offended.

“Alcohol can do dangerous things to the body, and of course, I’d pay for the taxi, I just don't want you to get-”

“I’m not drunk.” Spencer interrupted, finally realizing why she looked so nervous at his insistence that he was okay.

“You’re not?” she said, her words much slower now.

“No, I just fell asleep.” when she still looked doubtful he continued “I swear. Just a bit dizzy is all.”

She turned away, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, suddenly more self-conscious, more guarded. “Okay then,” she said, making eye contact one more time before looking down again. “I’ll uh, I’ll let you do whatever you meant to do today,” she paused again and Spencer watched her start to walk away. “I’m sorry for bothering you, have a good day!” she called before walking off.

Her behavior was strange. Her body language had changed so quickly, her confident demeanor transformed in an instant. Spencer shook his head again, reminding himself that he had a job to do. No matter how confused he was, he had to go meet their unsub.

He walked down a street for a moment, finding the right bookstore from earlier quickly. He took a look inside, saw the lights on, the shop lit up so early in the morning.

He took a deep breath. He reminded himself that he could do this, that it wasn't going to be as difficult as he was imagining. His team trusted him, he needed to trust himself.

He took another deep breath and walked in.

It was so much different inside.

It smelled like spices, like a million different coffees all combined. It was bright in there, the sun helping, but the lights doing even more magic. There were lights everywhere, providing a sense of warmth, of comfort.

Spencer looked around at the books. It was a small shop, smaller than most bookstores he frequented at, but there were so many books. Different spaces were built into the walls to hold more books, bookshelves lining areas. There were little cabinets next to the tables close to what Spencer guessed was the cafe, little cabinets that held more books.

It seemed so peaceful, so much like a different world.

It was strange that a murder could be resting between those comforting walls.

He walked around for a moment, glancing at all the book titles, amazed at the selection hidden between the different covers.

No, no. He had a job to do.

He walked to the front, already aware that she would be there today, it said so on her schedule which Garcia had conveniently gotten for him.

But there was only one person there.

The girl.

The same girl that had thought he was intoxicated.

She must have noticed him out of the corner of her eye, because she looked over a little bit shocked, a gasp leaving her mouth. He was worried he had scared her before she started talking, a hand raised up to her chest as if she was trying to catch her breath.

“Oh. It's you.” Her eyebrows were raised, and she looked surprised at his presence. “Sorry,” she said motioning to the book on her lap, an explanation of why she had been so surprised he was there. “Usually no one comes in until at least eight.”

Spencer swore he could feel the tension in the room. It was so much different in the store than it had been outside, her quick change in confidence hadn't since changed back, and she still seemed closed off.

Why?

Spencer stared at her another moment, thinking of how she didn't seem like a murderer, she seemed compassionate. She had been worried about him earlier, she had wished him a good day, she had offered to call and pay for a cab just so he got home safe.

She didn't seem anything like the sadist they had profiled.

In one quick moment, Spencer blurted out “You’re Y/N?”.

She looked a bit confused, a bit surprised, possibly offended at his tone of voice- the tone he was regretting only moments after -and a bit horrified.

After watching her face for a moment Spencer realized his slip up.

He wasn't supposed to know her name.

“How do you know my name?”

“Oh um,” Spencer started, quickly looking for a way out, he looked down at her name tag, relieved that it was actually her name. “Your nametag.” he finished, looking back up at her eyes, trying to be convincing, cursing himself for letting it slip.

“Oh,” she said, all the emotions Spencer could see only a second ago draining out of her like water. “Okay. Can I help you?” she asked, her voice changing significantly. Spencer guessed this was her customer service voice.

He almost wanted to laugh.

His heart was beating loud in his chest. He was even more nervous now that he knew who she was, knew that she was the unsub, knew that she hadn't caught him yet.

“I’m just looking,” he said, all of his plans going to fail. He needed to talk to her, he needed to get to know her, but he had already made a mistake, and he was so confused that she was his suspect.

“Okay. I’m here all day today,” she answered, looking away from him, back down at her book.

It was a weird introduction.

All of the things that had happened near this unsub was weird.

He needed to come up with a new plan.

He sat down in an old chair next to a small table. He had a view of the front and a cabinet of books next to him.

And he watched.

Five hours later and Spencer was still watching.

He just watched.

He figured that observing for today would be alright, that his team would understand, that it was his assignment, that he could do whatever he wanted as long as he did his job. Observing was a good place to start.

He ordered himself a coffee, which Y/N brought to him with cautious eyes.

And he sipped it as he watched.

She seemed to be the only person working. At least this morning. She worked both the register and the cafe, moving back and forth almost effortlessly. He watched as she quickly rang up customers, and made other peoples coffees.

She had very expressive eyes. Eyes that seemed to put all of her emotions on display. He could tell when she was worried when she was being careful around someone when she genuinely seemed happy to do something when there was someone she liked there. Her eyes changed with every movement, with every thought that seemed to cross her mind.

It made Spencer's job just a little bit easier.

She seemed to know that her emotions were on display for the world to see because she closed herself off, she avoided eye contact with almost everyone, besides a couple of customers that seemed to know her. She looked up and down, and everywhere except for someone's face. It made Spencer wonder why she had been so willing to look at him earlier that morning.

He watched as she directed people to different books, as she carefully recalled someone's order of coffee. He watched her blow the hair out of her eyes, and smile at each person that walked up to her, he listened to her voice- which he now knew to be the customer service voice as he had guessed earlier -listened to her talk to each customer, ask how their days had been. He watched it all.

Occasionally he looked down, focused on the book he had picked out, tried not to seem too suspicious, read through the pages like he always did.

That part was simple.

What wasn't simple was the girl. This girl who was supposed to be a murder. This girl who he was supposed to be arresting in only a couple of weeks.

She wasn't anything like they’d profiled.

She was empathetic, and she worked with the customers like she’d been doing it all her life, she smiled, and she expressed her thoughts, and she asked them about their days. She never looked at any of the women walking in with any extra malice, she never did anything that seemed even slightly threatening. She just worked, and she never got mad. Not even at the customers who seemed to expect the world from her, not even when they got mad at her for just doing her job. She never once snapped, never once lost the smile that seemed to be plastered on her face.

She closed herself off sometimes, but that was the only closest to anything they’d profiled.

She was so much different than he’d been expecting.

That made him nervous. He wasn't sure if they had profiled something wrong if he was doing something wrong, he wasn't sure if he was doing anything right. There was something off. Something wrong.

He hated the unknown.

He hated that even though she seemed like an open book he didn't know anything about her. The first day wasn't going well.

He told himself that it was fine, that he would ask Derek for help, that it was only the first day, that he would figure it out tomorrow.

He told himself that over and over, still, it felt like there was something wrong.

He was debating himself in his head when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

A strangely familiar tap.

“Um, hi, again.” she started, looking away from him. “I’m about to take my break in around fifteen minutes. And I have to kick you out. I’m sorry.”

Spencer frowned.

“You can come back in an hour! I just need to eat lunch and I-”

“Oh, no it's not that sorry. Just thought of something. Of course, I’ll get out of your way.” Spencer quickly shut the book he was reading, noting the page number, and placed it on the stack of books he’d already read so he could take them back to the bookshelves.

He was about to walk away when she stopped him.

“Did you read all of those?” she said softly, and when Spencer turned her eyes were wide, almost shocked. When she noticed him looking at her, she moved back, crossed her arms again. He frowned for a moment before remembering how she seemed to take that before. He looked down at his books.

“Yeah. I- um I read really fast.”

She shook her head, smiled a different smile then he’d seen before, and chuckled a little. “No, I read fast. That looks like you skimmed a couple of pages off of each book, and decided you were done.”

Spencer smiled at her a little bit, used to the question, watched her, looked for any signs of jealousy.

“I just read fast,” he said again, watching.

“There's 14 books here!” she exclaimed, a full-on smile now filling her face. Spencer was more confused. Why did that make her smile? Why wasn't she closed off anymore?

His question went answered when she heard how loud her own voice was when she clapped her hand over her mouth when her brows furrowed and she looked almost angry.

He was confused when he watched her relax when her shoulders went slack and her eyes turned away from him.

“I- Customers-” she stuttered, and she walked away.

Spencer felt himself confused, felt his heart race, watched as this girl walked away.

He didn't know anything about her.

It was day one and he didn't know anything about her.

He decided he needed more time to think.

He decided it was time to leave.

He would be back tomorrow.

***

Met unsub today.

She has a weird way of closing herself off in certain instances.

She doesn't seem to connect easily, but I didn't get close enough to tell. There have been no other signs of sadism, and nothing that alerts me to psychopathic tendencies.

More tomorrow.

Agent Morgan should call me.

I have questions.

Dr. Spencer Reid. BAU.

***

masterlist here

love you

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds rp #criminal minds headcanons #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fan #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg blurb #mgg fanfiction

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zeppelin-and-unicorns · 4 years ago

Text

Fanfic recommendations part three: Season 7 fix-its

Some of these stories are post season 7 finale, some of them take place during season 7 and diverge from canon. Season 8 who? We don’t know her.

I’ve read and enjoyed all of these stories, they are all worth the read.

(By the way this is a big category, so this post is huge)

All Our Yesterdays by ChronicallyChill

After the events of "Street Fighting Man", Jackie and Hyde wish more than anything that things had happened differently. The next morning, they wake up in the past, on the morning of Vanstock where Jackie promptly makes one dream come true. They are not together—but, soon enough, one change snowballs into another... Time Travel AU.

I didn’t knew if I should’ve placed this story on the season 7 fix-it category or in the AU category, in the end I chose this one, if you think it’s incorrect, please let me know so I can change it.

Okay so this story deserves a special comment because OH MY GOD, it’s incredible. It’s amazing how the author writes the characters so well, and I simply love the addition of Buddy Morgan to the gang.

This story is a WIP, it hasn’t been updated in a while but I still have faith.

121k words, 7 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna, Buddy/Fez

Also available on AO3

As You Wish by c00kiefic

A dark comedic look at love, loss and death. Hyde’s there for Jackie when she needs him the most.

This story is complete.

7k words, 2 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Daddy’s Home by bellamarie

Jackie and Hyde’s relationship has been smooth sailing for the most part since their last break-up in ‘79. As Hyde begins to seriously commit to Jackie, her dad is released from prison and he returns home to supposedly rekindle his relationship with her. Hyde, suspecting that Jack’s intentions aren’t pure, enlists the help of his friends to try and expose Jack for the still crook man that he is. While Hyde may be a paranoid burnout, he knows that the wily politician is up to no good. There is one thing, however, both men have a common interest in: Jackie Burkhart.

Okay so this story basically ignores the existence of season 8, that’s why it’s in this category.

Oh, and I’m pretty sure this is an abandoned story. Unfortunaly. It only has two chapters and damn, I’m dreaming about the day the author will update this, I’m already hooked.

4k words, 2 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Finding the Right Future by springsteenicious

After Chicago, Hyde starts driving to Las Vegas, planning to get over Jackie. His car nearly breaks down in Iowa, forcing him to stop. While he's there, he meets Fortune, a woman who will change the course of his life forever.

This story is complete.

13k words, 8 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Halloween is Over by MistyMountainHop

Eric wants to be scared for Halloween, really scared. Donna proposes a contest, and all their friends are in. But Hyde and Jackie's renewed relationship might not withstand the stress. Donna and Kelso must fight their impulses, and Fez and Eric's chances of survival are slim.

This story is complete.

25k words, 8 chapters.

Rated M

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

Also Available on AO3

Hyde’s Long Way Home by MistyMountainHop

This story is perfect. It literally has no defects. I love ALL of MIstyMountainHop’s stories, literally, all of them, but this one has a very special place in my heart. It’s complete and it’s definitely worth the read.

Hyde goes on a self-destructive bender after finding Jackie with a towel-wrapped Kelso. The day after that, he wakes up ... and it's the same day as before. He's doomed to live the same day over and over — unless he can figure out a way to live it right.

151k words, 26 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

Also available on AO3

I’d Have You Anytime by anonymous author

What if Jackie after panicking in her show, gave up? And what if she made an unnatural friendship? Basically a fix it of season 7. If you like a story with good Jackie/Eric friendship moments, I totally recommend this one!

Trigger warning for past eating disorder.

This story is a WIP and it’s being updated frequently.

15k words, 9 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

I Found a Reason by JoyfulHeartEO

Can Donna help Hyde see the light before he loses the one thing that's most important to him? Or will Jackie decide to leave at all?

Rated T.

9k words, 3 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna

Jackie and Hyde: The Untold Story by Lotusflower655

I was going to place this in the “Hidden Moments” category (spoiler alert, the next category), when I realised this has a different season 7 finale, so... here it is.

Rated M.

12k words, 6 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Let’s Grow Up Together by yabookreader96

One day Jackie receives a certain letter in the mail, and she finds her life quickly beginning to change. Suddenly she is a grown up navigating life on her own, drifting away from the sleepy little town of Point Place...and from her friends who can't seem to find the courage to discover life outside the Forman basement. Will her friends catch up, or will Jackie be all on her own?

This story is complete.

67k words, 12 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

Magic by poetdameron

Hyde has never been good at words and Jackie has never been good at waiting, they need to find a balance to stay together. Hopefully, they'll do it before is too late.

16k words, 2 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Also Available on AO3

Please Don’t Say You Love Me (’Cause I Might Not Say It Back) by orphan_account

An alternate take on the end of season 7. Instead of running off to Vegas Hyde downs a couple of beers in the good ol' El Camino before deciding that some things are more important than his pride - i.e. his relationship with Jackie.

This story is complete.

3k words, 2 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Reflections Through the Glass by MistyMountainHop

Okay, this story is quite a trip, and it’s amazing. It’s based on a minisseries called The 10th Kingdom.

Six months after Chicago, Hyde no longer believes in love — or in Jackie. Donna's not speaking to Eric. Kelso's confused about his whole life, and Fez has gone missing. The only way back may be to leave it all behind.

This story is complete, and there’s a sequel, called Beneath a Shattered Sky. Honestly, I love the first story, but the sequel... The sequel is probably one of the best stories I’ve ever read. Those are both very long stories, but they are worth it.

138k words, 46 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

Season 8 redo by tanith75

This is the most famous story of the fandom for a reason.

The story starts after the s7ep21 episode, so there’s no Chicago problems or people going to Africa over here :) It’s amazingly written, it’s funny as hell, and it honestly feels like I’m watching an episode of the show when I’m reading it. It’s amazing, it’s what should’ve happened in the show.

This story is not complete, but please, don’t let this stop you from reading it.

293k words, 42 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna, Red/Kitty, Fez/Laurie, Kelso/Brooke

Shade by MistyMountainHop

This story ignores season 8 completely and season 7 is canon, that’s why it’s in this category.

Hyde finds himself homeless on a night where Jackie is without parents. The gift he gave her last Christmas draws him to her, but his attachment lingers past that rainy first night, grows through countless experiences, and leads him across state lines. Their relationship is a high-stakes gamble, but Jackie may fold before Hyde can show all his cards.

This story is complete and it melts my heart every single time I read it.

43k words, 10 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Also Available on AO3

The Seeker by QuarterflashWoman

With Donna and Eric's own relationship kaput, after Eric left Donna at the altar, what does this mean for our favorite opposites-attract couple Steven and Jackie? Wedding bells, baptisms, betrayals, and ultimatums. It's just another year in the lives of those of Point Place.

This is mainly a season 7 hidden moments story until it diverges from canon, and it’s lovely. I wish it was complete, but it’s still worth the read.

121k words, 23 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, some background Eric/Donna angst.

We’re All Alright by glittermila

In which Hyde and Jackie actually talk things out after he caught Kelso at the motel.

This is a lovely story, and I really enjoyed it, seeing Jackie and Hyde having a mature relationship is everything.

This story is complete.

48k words, 21 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Mainly Jackie/Hyde

Zenmasters: Seasons 3-5 by zdbztumble

I was having a lot of trouble categorizing this story, in the end, I decided that it was a season 7 fix-it of sorts, since season 8 doesn’t exist and season 7 ends in a satisfying way.

This story is a rewrite of some episodes, the author foreshadowed J/H relationship during seasons 3 and 4, and she added some pretty nice J/H moments in some chapters. The author also changed some things in some episodes (like the way J/H get back together after the nurse, and some other things). It’s a pretty good story, I like it a lot.

After "Jackie Bags Hyde," a certain subplot went into hibernation for a season and a half. What if it hadn't? And, if it hadn't, what other surprises would pop up along the way? "Tune in" to find out!

This story is complete.

170k words, 43 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

One-shots:

A change in fate by KaraSkinner

After leaving Jackie in Chicago, Hyde gets into a car crash and meets an angel that shows him just how bleak life would be if he doesn't change his fate now.

4k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

don’t I love you so by orphan_account

Hyde’d spent so long trying to keep her out, and what had happened? He’d finally opened up the gates, only to realise she’d been there the whole time and had had enough. Love — it was a goddamn Trojan horse.

or; a 7x25 fix it where hyde and jackie talk like adults for once in their damn lives.

4k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Hyde Asks Jackie to Stay by springsteenicious

When Hyde finds Jackie in the basement when she's supposed to be in Chicago, his first instinct is to push her away. Instead, he asks her to stay.

2k words

Rated G.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

I’m not a heartbreaker, so be gentle with mine by FalaZure

It's just a proposal, Hyde's been through worse and really how hard can it be?

or: 5 times Hyde tries to propose to Jackie, and one time he succeeds.

This story ignores season 8 completely, and it’s mainly just fluff, I LOVE it.

12k words.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Jackie Doesn’t Leave Before Getting an Answer by springsteenicious

Jackie stays in Point Place and waits for an answer to her ultimatum. At long last, Hyde gives her one.

2k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Let’s Do It by poetdameron

According to the tags, season 8 does not exist on this story, so off to the season 7 fix-its category you go.

There are things a man should not say after great orgasms on Christmas' Eve, Steven Hyde should have known better.

2k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Moth Drawn to Light by blackorchids

After Hyde sees how good Jackie is with baby Betsy, it makes him start to think.

Ignores the existence of season 8 completely. Just a fluff little one-shot on Hyde’s thoughts about fatherhood.

1k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Our Last Night on Earth by c00kiefic

When Hyde wakes up in the beer warehouse, he decides to actually fight for his girl.

3k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Remember to Breathe by PrefectMoony

She’s all bubblegum laughter, and butter scotch kisses. Hyde thinks he loves her, thinks he’s always loved her. Hates that it’s taken him so long to tell her as much.

Hates it even more that the first time he’s ever told her so is when the break between them is too raw— too jagged— to be able to mend with pretty platitudes.

Beautifully written.

4k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

sighs in my sleep by finkpishnets

“Congratulations,” the nurse says, smile pulled too tight as she glances at Jackie’s unadorned hand.

Jackie wants to shrug it off — “My husband’s getting the ring engraved as an anniversary gift. Isn’t that just so romantic?” — but she can’t find the breath to let the lie trip off her tongue, even in the face of pity.

2k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Street Fighting Man by springsteenicious

Hyde finds Jackie crying at the Packers Game. He tries to fix it.

1k words

Rated G

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Tea For One by KayRight

The second Mrs. Forman walked in with a letter for him he knew what had happened. Marrying her scared him, but losing her terrified him to his very core. Takes place in Season 7 after Jackie tells Hyde she got a job in Chicago.

2k words.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

The One Where They’re Happy by amidtheflowers

When Jackie and Hyde start dating, it takes the gang a while to see how that relationship even works. Something that creepy and unnatural can't possibly work, right? Meanwhile, Donna wonders why she puts up with any of them.

Adorable, I love this story so much, please read this.

3k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

we’ll be alright by marvelfoodlover

What if Jackie didn't easily forgive the gang after they missed her graduation party?

Season 7 fix-it because it diverges from canon.

2k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

I think that covers it.

I’ll repeat this at the end of every single post: speaking as someone who writes, it would be really cool if you guys decide to leave a review (or a comment, if the story is on AO3) in the stories you read, especially the unfinished ones. It really motivates the authors, and receiving a compliment is always a mood lifter. I’ve seen some authors updating stories after years because of nice reviews, so… yeah, this is just an idea.

If you think I left out a good story, feel free to reply to this post!

Next category: Hidden Moments

#jackie x hyde #jackie and hyde #jackie burkhart #steven hyde #zenmasters #that 70s show #that '70s show #fanfic #fanfic rec #fanfic recommendations

47 notes · View notes

calpops · 4 years ago

Text

falling facade | c.h.

part four: falling failures

part one: falling flowers || part two: falling freedom || part three: falling fears

5k words

<< >>

Explanations were needed and time was not a luxury that Calum and Arden were afforded. Pressure from parents and media began to intensify at the release of the paparazzi photos. The ring was splashed across headlines again, the first public appearance of the new couple sparking more than Calum could have anticipated. His friends were asking questions as well and they were getting harder and harder to avoid. Missed calls piled up and the pressure of secrets sat heavy. Only a day had passed since the obligatory paparazzi walk and things were getting wildly out of hand. They couldn’t avoid it forever; that’s exactly what he told Michael when he paid the Clifford house a visit and asked to see Arden. He realized he didn’t even have his fake fiancée’s phone number and she was completely off the social media grid. They were due for answers and they were due for posts.

Management wanted to start the presence of the relationship in the public eye hard and fast and frequently and then start to taper off to convince of the eventual split. Michael nodded his understanding when Calum showed up in search of Arden; he disappeared to yell through the house for her and in just a moment Arden took his spot in the doorway. Calum could tell she was tired. Her soft hair was in a messy bun and strands fell down to frame her face. She wore an old and oversized T-shirt tucked into shorts where her hands found a home in the pockets and a mild expression captured her face with dark circles under her eyes. She leaned against the door frame and licked her lips, teeth catching in their venture and reminding Calum of momentary bliss on a dance floor.

“We need to figure some things out,” he started with and when she frowned and her knees knocked into each other he knew that was too open ended and nerve wracking of a statement to start with. “We need to get our story straight is all. We need to figure out who we’re telling what.”

“Oh. Right,” she mumbled and craned her neck to look behind her and into the house before looking back at Calum. “Not here. Please. Can we go somewhere else?”

“Of course.”

They went to Calum’s place where it was quiet and private and they could think out loud with each other, with only Duke to listen in on them. Calum could see Arden visibly relaxing from the nervous state she was in at the doorway. She sank into the plush couch and Duke surprisingly made his way over to her; let her scratch under his chin and settled at her side. Calum sat on her other side and let them both have a moment to think through the questions they knew needed to be answered.

“It’s so quiet here. I don’t think it’s been this quiet at Michael’s since, well—since I got there,” she said and let out a tired sigh. Calum wondered if the noise of so many inhabitants living in the house had interrupted her sleep. “This is nice. I can actually hear myself think.”

Calum wanted to tell her she could come over and stay whenever she liked, for the quiet. But with only four days of a fake relationship under their belts and years of not knowing each other after years of orbiting each other, he thought it might be too soon. He let her have a few more minutes of quiet, her tired eyes casted her gaze out the window and towards the mid morning sun. Her hand lazily pet Duke who careened into her side and was satiated by the touch. Calum could see her eyes were heavy with every blink lasting longer than the previous. Her feet slightly wiggled as they couldn’t quite reach the hardwood floor and short stuff affectionately made way into Calum’s thoughts. He tried to bite back a grin at the memory of her feisty dislike of what Calum might now consider a term of endearment. From there his mind sank into other memories; trying so hard to place Arden in more moments. But she had disappeared for years. He couldn’t conjure up an image of her in a concert crowd. Never saw her backstage. For some reason, she avoided the band. Calum then realized the band would be the best tool to utilize for their situation.

“I think Ashton and Luke need to know,” Calum suddenly blurted out and he wasn’t sure why or where the words came from but they killed the silence and the relaxed look on Arden’s face. “At least them. They can help with the PR stuff. It’d make it easier. They can have my back in interviews when it’s brought up. If they know the game we’re playing they can help me fill in the gaps when you’re not there. And it would get them off my back.”

Arden bit her lip and absentmindedly or perhaps with a mind full to the brim; nodded. She didn’t say anything in response immediately but turned her gaze over to Calum. He knew she was scrutinizing the situation. She looked him up and down once before speaking.

“We can tell them. You’re right. They could help,” she affirmed—Michael’s help could only go so far, it would be unrealistic for the rest of the band to be out of the loop. “But can we hold off on telling our parents? At least for a while? I don’t think I’m ready to face all of that yet.”

Calum recalled her words at the diner from the previous day. Disappoint my parents. Arden believed they wouldn’t be okay with the situation, that they would think less of her for their drunken night and reckless decisions without coherent thought processes and all that rained down on them because of it. He still didn’t have the full story to that reasoning and it didn’t seem she was wanting or willing to offer it now. He wanted to know why; to have a reason and justification for white lies and half truths to his family. But her comfortability and wants needed to be factored in as well. They had created all of this together. He found with another look at her that he couldn’t deny her of the request, not when her eyes were pleading and her lower lip was trembling. Maybe not ever.

“We can tell them we’re still trying to figure us out,” Calum supplied a half truth. In all honesty he wasn’t sure what they were to each other. “We can be vague. We reconnected while you were visiting Michael. We went to Vegas for a wedding and maybe we got swept up in the romance and got engaged. But we’re still trying to figure things out. They don’t need to know about the details.”

Or about the contracts.

“Are you sure you’re okay with that? I don’t want you to feel like you have to lie for me.”

Calum didn’t tell her that it might not feel like lying. He just shrugged and cleared his throat. She took it as a confirmation and a tired smile slowly tugged at the corners of her mouth. He couldn’t help but notice her lips were glossy and faintly remember the taste of sugar on them. It had been days since the kiss. He missed the sweetness and the soft touch. He didn’t miss the feeling of falling or wind at his back; that was ever present and all consuming. It was shifting. Some moments it was an easy and exhilarating descent through soft clouds. Other times it was a free fall filled with inhibitions and anxieties. But here, in the quiet with just the two of them and walls crumbled down and secrets able to be shared, Calum was content to enjoy the feeling.

“We can call them tomorrow,” Calum decided; knowing their parents wouldn’t be able to wait much longer. He wasn’t sure what tactics Arden was employing to hold her parents off or how much they might be hounding Michael for explanations as well. “But we are due for a post today.”

Calum knew once whatever photo they took went up there would be an influx of questions. Luke and Ashton would be on him in a second, and recognizing the house they might even drive over to get their answers. He could probably stall his parents' curiosity with some texts. Calum hadn’t even spared the comments on the initial photo any thought. He almost didn’t dare to look. He could picture them in his mind and he figured they were better left online. He was grateful Arden wasn’t online anymore. Her socials had gone dark months ago and Calum found some peace of mind from that.

“How do we do it our way?” She asked, referring to the fact they wanted to keep as much of themselves to themselves. She reveled in privacy and feared losing control of her life. Calum wanted to play the publicity game in a way they could win.

He had put a lot of thought into how to go about posting. The paparazzi photos had worked in their favor. Her hidden face and back to the camera provided a sense of security and left most of the comments circulating about the ring and the way Calum looked at her. Management had no complaints about the way they conducted the pap walk. Calum came off as protective and she was portrayed as shy. They needed to keep that narrative in their hands and on the board. They couldn’t let false claims and the wrath of the PR team take over.

“The most important thing right now still seems to be the ring,” Calum mused and took a glance down at her hand still coddling Duke with pets to see it fit to her finger. He was surprised she was wearing it; his visit was unprompted and though a post was scheduled for the day he didn't mention it before leaving. “Good thing you’re wearing it.”

“I haven’t taken it off,” she admitted with a faint blush and stalling hand. Duke let out a small whimper at the loss of contact as she brought her hand up but nuzzled into her further to make up for it. “All those people at Michael’s don’t know it’s fake. I also don’t want to lose it and get us in trouble.”

Her reasoning made sense and Calum was hit with the thought that pretending for her was a lot more permanent with the lack of privacy at the Clifford compound. It followed her everywhere. The weight of the ring was a constant reminder. At least when Calum got home he could stop pretending. Though, he was then faced with the question of how much was real and how much was fake. The ring was fake. The feelings that followed him were a whole other battle that he was entirely unprepared for.

“Next time we decide to get fake engaged, let’s pick a less hideous ring,” she said as the glare of the diamond picked up the sunlight and glinted on the couch. “I don’t know why people would want to see this thing.”

Calum smirked at the lighthearted words and the gaudy ring that was too big for her small finger. “It’s not that bad.”

Arden gave him a serious look with an arched eyebrow and a tilt of her head.

“It is pretty bad,” he admitted in a grumble of defeat. “But I’d rather the attention and scrutiny be on it.” Rather than you.

Arden seemed to understand the implications of those three unsaid words. She went to fidget with the ring but stopped herself and instead pet Duke who appreciated the attention with relaxed eyes slipping closed and a small groan. Calum couldn’t believe how well the old dog took to her. He was usually standoffish around new people. Hardly liked attention from anyone other than Calum. But he was soaking up her pets and his tail was wagging at every word she said directed to him. Calum was awestruck and an idea hit him; another way to keep Arden from taking the brunt of the attention and invasion of privacy. A way to stay themselves in the face of pretending.

“What are you thinking?” Arden asked and Calum knew she could see the wheels turning in his mind and how loudly his silence spoke in that moment.

“I know what we can do,” Calum began, then shifted to grab his phone out of his pants pocket and brought himself even closer into Arden’s side. He beckoned for Duke who hesitated a moment, wanting nothing more than to stay under the affection of Arden. But he slowly sat himself up and gave Calum a cursory glance with uninterested eyes.

Calum reached over to pick him up and when he gave a little wiggle and huff Calum laughed and placed him in Arden’s arms. She didn’t hesitate to receive the disgruntled dog or coo to him to get him happy again. Calum’s heart was warm at the exchange; a smile growing with every baby voiced word she said. The sun spilled in through floor length windows and lit her in a soft glow as Calum pulled his camera up. The ring was visible in her position of holding Duke. Sensing what was happening Arden did her best to hide her face in the embrace of Duke. Calum leaned in with his arm outstretched and the camera facing them. He gave her a small kiss on the cheek, helping to obscure what could be seen of her face. He snapped a photo and then a few more when she was grinning and Duke was set down. Calum’s arm fell and his lips hovered as Arden turned to him.

Honey and peaches and sugar were just before him. Her eyes were hooded and soft, hazel gleaming in the light and Calum couldn’t help but inch closer. He vaguely heard Duke jump off the couch and pad off to his own bed but he was too caught up in the moment to give it much more than half a thought. She blinked slowly and Calum did too and without seeing or knowing he was kissing her again. Tiny alarm bells rang in his mind but they were drowned out by the sweetness invading his senses. He didn’t care that Arden was Michael’s sister. He didn’t care that the pretenses of their relationship were fake and constructed by contracts—but real with a date and a kiss preceding all of that. All he cared about was the moment and the feeling of her lips against his. And the way his hand found its way to her jaw, fingertips light and tingling as they trailed along and his fingers tangled in her hair.

The moment was bliss and longer lived than on the dance floor. But still, all too soon she was pulling away but staying still in his hold. His eyes shot open to find hers still closed, lips pouted and pink dancing across her cheeks. Her eyes opened slowly; he saw the even rise and fall of her chest. She was calm and that reinforced the feelings of bliss Calum experienced in their brief moment. Words were evasive and meaningless when their gazes held and his fingers drifted from her hair back to her jaw. They were silent and let that speak for them. He could hear the tiny breaths escaping her. Could see her eyes dart up and down as if in contemplation of what might happen next. As Calum began to think that through—debating if he should lean in again or not—she made the decision and pulled away, leaving his hand to fall as a sigh escaped her.

“Guess we got caught up in the charade,” she said as her gaze went distant and the pink on her cheeks began to fade. She bit her lip and leaned back into the plush cushions of the couch.

“Yeah,” Calum agreed though he wasn’t too sure of that on his end.

His camera still captured the screen of his phone and a tiny photo sat in the bottom corner. It reminded him of what the moment was and what needed to be done. He pulled up his social media and found the photo where Arden was mostly hidden by Duke and Calum’s kiss. He was apprehensive and indecisive when captioning it. Arden was silent behind him, relaxed, while he was hunched over with phone in one hand and chin in the other. Settling for the less is more tactic he simply put a heart and leaned back and angled the phone for Arden’s eyes.

“Is this okay to post?”

He wanted to make sure they were always on the same page when it came to the stunt. He wanted her permission. Even though it was his profile, her comfortability of being on it was more important. She nodded and Calum hit post with his heart in his throat and sweaty palms still gripping the phone. He could still feel their kiss, could still taste sugar when he licked his lips and turned to face her. She was seemingly at ease while Calum was at war with himself.

It only took a few minutes of the post being up for the calls and texts to start piling up. Calum had called his family the previous night after he and Arden decided to hold off. He evaded their questions as best he could and said he’d explain when the time was right and they were ready. It was a sinking feeling to be engulfed in; he had never been so evasive with his family before. But it was justified to keep Arden okay. He knew they were picking up on the fact he couldn’t say things, not that he didn’t want to or didn’t trust them. But Luke and Ashton were still in the dark and seeking the light. Others had questions; a few exes popped up in search of answers, but they weren’t important.

“Should we bite the bullet and tell Ash and Luke the truth in one go?” Calum asked as his phone lit up with a FaceTime call from Ashton, again.

Arden took a moment to think it over and when a grin spread across her face and mischief twinkled in her hazel eyes Calum couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking.

“We could have fun with it first,” she said and Calum knew exactly what she meant as she sat up.

He slid back and wrapped an arm around her, let her head rest against him and started a group call with her hand and ring in the shot; it delicately rested against his chest and he was sure she could feel the beat of his heart just like she did with her face to his chest at the wedding. It was bound to skip and thump a little harder than usual. The connection came alive at a moment’s notice and Ashton lit up the screen with his mouth already running; throwing questions around rapidly—with some choice words to highlight his confusion—until the realization Arden was right there and snuggled into Calum’s side donned on him.

“What the fuck?” Ashton’s new tirade of questioning began with an expletive. “Don’t tell me you two idiots actually got married in Vegas?”

“Married?” Luke asked as he joined the call and caught Ashton’s last sentence. “You married Michael’s sister?”

“Management must be covering it up with just an engagement. Oh god, it makes so much sense,” Ashton reasoned though he was wildly wrong. Calum and Arden stayed quiet; mildly amused by the guessing game ensuing, even egging it on by nuzzling closer together. “Nothing good ever comes from Vegas. No offense, but what the hell were you guys thinking?”

“They were probably drunk,” Luke supplied and then tacked on in a mumble. “Sure glad I don’t have a sister.”

They let Ashton and Luke simmer with comments and questions for another couple of minutes. They came in and out with Calum’s subpar internet connection. Only when the speculation started getting out of hand; wild theories of a secret relationship for months or years tumbling from their lips. Calum decided to cut them off and Arden backed away; the fun quickly dwindling and crashing back into reality.

“Guys stop. We’re not married,” Calum said in a raised voice, he thought he felt Arden flinch next to him. Once Ashton and Luke’s theories died on their lips and the connection went quiet Calum cleared his throat. “We didn’t get married in Vegas. We haven’t been in a secret relationship.”

“Then what the hell is happening?” Luke asked.

“Not married but engaged then?” Ashton questioned and blew out a huff. “Who goes to Vegas and just gets engaged?”

“We’re not really engaged,” Calum stated and eyebrows shot up in surprise as a response. They both stayed quiet on the other ends and gave time for Calum to explain. “It was supposed to be a joke, we think… We were pretty drunk. Management didn’t think it was funny. Now it’s a stunt.”

The few sentences it took to wrap up the explanation was enough. They had all had their own individual and band struggles with management and PR disasters. Calum didn’t need to offer up why management didn’t find it funny or why they had taken it so seriously they made it into a stunt. Luke and Ashton were aware of how extreme things could get in the matters of the press. In the face of maintaining or creating images. A lot of things came down to the will of management. Arden’s fear of losing control wasn’t so far fetched or fantastical. But Calum had already swore to himself he’d do anything and everything in his power to keep her from spiraling at the hands of the media and management.

Arden stayed quiet as Luke and Ashton absorbed the news and asked a few follow up questions—how long, what commitments did they sign up for, was there anything they could do to help. Calum responded in the best ways he could and kept an eye on Arden all the while. She sank back into the couch, knees resting on the cushions and fingers playing with the hem of her shorts. She was barely within the shot of the camera now. Calum dominated most of the picture and explanation. He wanted to wrap it up and get back to Arden. Craved more moments made just between them. Thoughts of the diner and a simple line drawing in red crayon and secrets slipping out like they didn’t matter captured his thoughts as the call was winding down and questions were finally answered. Ashton and Luke were on board to do whatever they could to aid them in their cause to keep playing it their way.

When Calum finally hung up he looked back at Arden. She was still and the picture of tired. Although Calum wanted to take her away again; off in search of somewhere real where more stories could be shared he could tell she wasn’t up for it. He laid back against the couch and didn’t move when she rested against him again; it was almost as if they were both working on instinct and seeking comfort from the other. He soaked up the essence of honey and sweetness and breathed her in. She let out a drawn out sigh he swore must have been a yawn she was trying to hide.

“Wanna stay here a while?” He asked just barely above a whisper and felt her nod against him.

He had no complaints for that. His day was free and the mid morning was painting a lovely picture out the window before them. The couch was comfortable and her presence made him warmer than the sun heating his skin. He had a culmination of plans for them that he could sit with in the silence. For everything fake they had to do he wanted to follow it with something real. He wanted to show Arden the sides of him that no one else got to see. Wanted to show her the places that made him feel like himself. And if in that process he got to see the sides of her no one else knew or secrets she had never shared before then that was a bonus.

They sat in a comfortable silence and position. Time slipped past unbeknownst in the quiet that surrounded them. Calum had never been one for something like this. He had never been so at ease he didn’t need words or background noise or distractions. But with only the sound of her small breaths, his heart beating a little louder than usual and the occasional snore from Duke he was convinced he was finding a liking for it. Without thinking his hand wandered to her hair. Just minutes before his fingers were tangled in the strands and his lips pressed against hers. This time he calmly stroked through the soft tresses and ate up the content sigh that escaped her. She watched out the window and he watched her until her eyes slipped closed and he allowed himself to follow her into sleep.

When they woke the sun was behind the tree line, hiding between leaves and branches that were casted in a warm and golden glow. Calum was first to wake and take a moment to gather his surroundings. The couch. A usual napping spot for him. Arden. She was still rested against him, his arm still around her and fingers falling on her collarbones where their trail of brushing through her hair ended. Duke was still in his bed but peaked up with a half interested gaze as Arden shifted as she woke. She greeted Calum with slow blinks and a slow smile crossing her face.

“I haven’t slept that well since I’ve been here,” she admitted around a yawn and a stretch; leaving Calum’s side with the motion. “I should probably get back before Michael thinks we’re up to no good.”

She reached for her phone in her shorts pocket, Calum assumed she was going to call for a car and stopped her with a hand on top of hers. “I’ll bring you.”

The car ride was quiet as they both contemplated the events of the day. The plan for their parents would need to be set into motion soon. Luke and Ashton could now help in their endeavors. The new photo was exploding with buzz and speculation. The kiss on the cheek lingered and became something much more. Their real moment when the camera and their guards dropped was tailspinning through Calum’s subconscious. Calum could see how busy Michael’s house was when they arrived. Cars spilled onto the road and people passed in the front windows. He put the car in park and caught the end of an eye roll from Arden as she took in the added company.

“Give me your phone,” Calum said quickly in a force of realization. “We need each other’s numbers.”

Arden gave him a puzzled look but handed the device over unlocked. Calum quickly added his number to her contacts and sent himself a text so he could have hers too.

“Text me whenever you want to get away from the noise,” he offered as he passed her phone back.

She bit her lip and looked down at the screen; seeing his name and the small message sent to his phone. A ring in the message box made her laugh and for the first time he noticed small dimples appearing as her smile grew.

“You’re ridiculous,” she commented as she shook her head and tapped the screen. He leaned over to see what she was doing but she angled herself away until she was done; showing his updated info to include the ring in his name. “Just in case I ever forget we’re fake engaged.”

She said it with a wink and a small giggle that filled Calum’s chest with a nervous warmth and flutter as he laughed along with her. She unbuckled but didn’t make a move for the door handle. Instead she leaned over towards Calum, a now familiar brush of her lips ghosting on his cheek as she thanked him. Calum swore he’d never tire of her gratitude though he wasn’t sure he truly deserved it. He didn’t feel like he’d done anything worthy of a thank you; but he never rejected her words or the warmth of her closeness. It was all so consuming and just a bit addictive.

“I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you soon,” she said with a pointed gaze at the colossal house filled with too many people in front of them.

“I look forward to it,” he replied with every ounce of honesty in him.

Arden left Calum with a smile and a wave when the door was shut. He made sure she got inside okay, waited to drive off until the door was shut behind her and his head stopped spinning from the overwhelming scent of peaches lingering in the car. He drove home with the windows open in an attempt to get his head above water and mind away from places it shouldn’t dive into. She said it herself; they were caught up in the charade. Everything meant nothing more than the facade they had to put on. A speck of doubt pushed its way through his thoughts; her words were drawn out and unsure. He wondered if she too was trying to convince herself of that. He couldn’t bring himself to believe it was all fake. At least not on his end. Falling failures crashed around him in plumes of smoke that threatened to choke him; his descent was becoming more and more dangerous as each smile and real moment forced him down faster and faster.

<< >>

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aricazorel · 4 years ago

Note

12 from the fluffy prompts for f!shenko please!

Thank you so much for the ask!

“This reminded me of you.” from this list

Rebecca Shepard x Kaidan Alenko; ME3, Citadel DLC; 1548 words

Spending the first few days of mandatory shore leave chasing your own clone and recovering your stolen ship was not how Rebecca Shepard had envisioned the time off. She hadn’t expected Anderson to give her his apartment either, but she wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead she decided to spend the time as ordered: off duty while she caught up with friends, took it easy, and spent quality time with Kaidan. Granted her shore leaves had always been hit or miss on whether other people enjoyed them with her but Kaidan was different. She knew him. Really knew him and thought she might be able to find things they both enjoyed doing.

That’s why she stopped into a random store in one of the lower wards market districts. It screamed Kaidan Alenko. The ward itself was home to a mixture of races and was a prime area for tourists to frequent. And that was what she was at the moment. Not the Commander, not the Savior of the Citadel, not the galaxy’s beacon of hope against the impossible. Just a tourist looking for a gift for her nerdy boyfriend and did that shop fit the bill. Thankful she actually listened to his random facts at all hours of the day and night, she was sure to find something he liked.

The whole concept of the store was based on interesting and unique things from Earth’s past. As one of the newer species on the galactic scene, humanity was still a curiosity to some. The oddities of Earth’s pop culture from past centuries permeated the shelves, racks, and display spaces in the specialty shop.

Shepard roamed the aisles looking for a specific pop culture icon from the late 20th-early 21st centuries. Surely they had something related to his nerdy obsession. After all he had been through and all he did for her, he deserved something familiar, something comforting, something distinctly Kaidan.

Finally at the very back of the store, she found it. All sorts of items: tee shirts, hats, figures, plushies, OSDs with movies and TV series, models, and much more. But one thing in particular caught her attention. A box containing what looked to be a collection of several items. Ones she knew Kaidan would love.

Her target acquired, the Commander- turned- tourist quickly paid for it and made her way back to the apartment. If she were lucky, Kaidan would still be out with Cortez, Vega, and Joker at the arcade. She could wrap it and surprise him.

Hopefully…

~~~~~

“Hey, Becca! I’m back,” Kaidan’s voice called from the living room.

“I’m in here,” she shouted from the bar area. The large box sat on the coffee table in front of her as The Battlespace played on the large vid screen but muted.

The Major rounded the wall partition as he commented, “Joker still wants to have that party. Tried all evening to get Steve, Vega, and me to convince you to agree to it.”

“I told him I’d think about it,” Rebecca groaned from the couch.

“Yeah, well you know Joker. He gets an idea and won’t let go until he gets his way,” Alenko replied as he came to stand by the couch, the artificial fire crackling behind him.

“Yeah. I know but all I want to do right now is spend time with you,” she said tossing her red hair over her shoulder. “Alone.”

“I’m all yours tonight, Becca,” he assured her as his whiskey-colored eyes flickered to the coffee table. “I promise.”

Shepard grinned. “Something catch your eye, Major?”

“You always have my eye, Shep,” he said with a lop-sided grin.

“You’ve gotten better with your flirting,” she noted as he approached the table.

“Who said I was flirting? I thought I was simply stating a fact,” Alenko commented, winking at her.

“Kaidan,” the Commander murmured as she felt herself blush lightly.

“It’s true,” the L2 biotic said as he pointed to the box. “But what it that?”

“It’s a box.”

“Becca.”

“It’s a wrapped box.”

“Shepard.”

“It’s a wrapped box with something allegedly inside it.”

“Rebecca Jane Shepard!”

The Commander laughed as she held up her hands as if in surrender. “Okay! Okay! No reason to sound like my dad.”

Kaidan made a face. “Don’t ever say that again. That’s just…weird.”

Rebecca laughed again as she motioned towards the box. “It’s for you.”

“Me?” the Major asked in surprise. “From who?”

She frowned as she replied indignantly, “Me, Alenko. Unless you have other women gifting you things behind my back.”

“Hell, no,” the second human Specter exclaimed as he reached for the box.

“No guys either?” she teased as he sat down on the couch beside her.

With the box in his lap, he gave her an incredulous look. “Sweetheart, while I do like both men and women, I only love you.”

Shepard was left speechless by his honesty as he quickly kissed her cheek. He gave her a grin and began to unwrap the box. Her once emotionally reserved Lt. was not so any longer, and it suited him. It suited him very well.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“You always say that, and you know I’m gonna do it anyway.”

“Yeah, well I still think you don’t have to…”

The Commander grinned as he went silent. His fingers traced over the edges of the box as his eyes flickered from one image to another on the side facing him. She leaned forward to look at him better. His expression was one of surprise and something she couldn’t place.

“I found it at an Earth novelty shop in one of the wards,” she said softly.

Kaidan nodded as she continued to look over the box.

“This,” Rebecca said motioning to the focus of his attention, “reminded me of you.”

“I had some like these when I was a kid,” Kaidan murmured as he opened the box. “My mom found them somewhere. Used to put them together to distract me from my biotics when I got frustrated with them.”

Shepard smiled as he pulled out several smaller boxes, each of a different model kit. She watched as his smile widened as he told her the name of each ship the model was supposed to build. A look of fondness for a childhood memory on his handsome features the entire time.

“This one’s an X-wing—Red 5. Luke’s ship…This is the Millennium Falcon—a YT-1300…Ummm, this is a TIE Fighter and a…TIE Advanced—Vader’s I think…A Star Destroyer—Venator class used during the Clone Wars and a…Oh wow! It’s the Ebon Hawk!”

Shepard recognized all the ships except the last one from binge watching the Star Wars movies and series with him in the hospital. “Come again?”

He turned to her excitedly. “It’s the ship from a couple of Star Wars video games. I had an emulator for them growing up. I might still have it…”

“So it’s a good thing?”

He nodded with a broad grin. “It was a fun couple of games. I can show them to you some time but…”

“But what?”

“Well, my mom used to say the pilot of the ship sounded a little like me,” he said rubbing the back of his neck, clearly a little embarrassed. “It might be weird.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s just one more thing that can remind me of you. You are weird in a special kind of way.”

Kaidan gazed at her happily. “This mean a lot to me, Becca. Just like you do. Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” she said looping an arm though his.

He went back to inspecting the model kits as she laid her head against his shoulder.

“You know,” she began, “when you get those put together I think there might be enough room to display them in the case in the loft.”

He turned to her. “You’d put my model kits from Star Wars with your models of real ships?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Umm, because they’re not—”

“Not what, Kaidan?” she asked. “They are important to you and you are important to me.”

He looked at her with cynically. “While that does sound sweet and sincere, is that really the only reason?”

“Well, of course it is,” she replied. Shepard paused and winced. “Welllll, that and I think most of them look badass…except for the TIE. It looks like a messed-up eyeball.”

Alenko laughed. “Oddly enough that was a nickname the Rebels and New Republic pilots gave them. The TIE/LN starfighter and the TIE/D Defender specifically. I—”

“Alright, my handsome nerd, I get you are excited and I’m glad you like them, but I thought we were spending the night together. Alone. Do I need to be jealous of the model kits?”

“No, Becca. I’m all yours,” he said setting them aside as he leaned over. Kissing her, he suggested, “We could watch the movies though.”

“Hmmmm,” she said. “We could as long as it isn’t too distracting.”

“If you want my full attention all you ever have to do it ask.”

“I know. And I love you. You and all of your nerdiness too.”

“Oh good. I was worried…”

“Kaidan.”

“I love you too.”

She smiled. Rebecca would always love him. Everything about him. Everything.

#fluff prompts #Mass Effect #f!shenko #Kaidan Alenko #femshep

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princess-of-riviaa · 5 years ago

Text

Inflicting Misery

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Part 2 to this

Summary: August has made it clear he won’t go near you. But what happens when your job forces him to?

Author’s Note: guys. this is filthy. don’t judge me.

Warning(s): virgin reader, voyeurism, fingering, choking, dirty talk

You find yourself wishing the idiot who’d picked your costume had gone with shorter heels. Your can’t pull off a smooth, casual walk in four inch heels. Once again you find yourself digging your nails into August’s arm just to stay upright as your ankle rolls, though not enough to hurt.

He gives you a sideways glare. “I think you should have gone with the other heels, sweetheart,” he says in that fake southern accent of his.

His character is a Texan who had just gotten home on leave after serving two tours in the Middle East. You play his wife, whom he hasn’t seen in the majority of the time that you two have been “married,” and as a treat to him finally coming home your character wants to take him to Vegas.

The real reason you’re here is because your team has been after a man who frequents the black market like a horny teenager frequents pornhub. Lorenzo, the hacker on your team, tracked the location of the man’s--his alias is John Smith--phone and found that he’s currently in Vegas, gambling at Caesar’s Palace. So your boss threw her best agents (you and August) on a plane and three hours later, here you both are, pretending to be a young married couple and ignoring the tension between you.

Neither one of you has said a word to the other since your last mission. You can still feel his hands between your legs, still feel his mouth on your neck, still feel his erection press into your stomach. You’d be lying if you said you no longer want him because he’d made the mistake of being an asshole. Of course you want him. The problem is that he doesn’t want you, not as long as you’re a virgin. So, no, neither one of you has said a word to the other person.

You follow the guard into the elevator. All three of you are silent as you’re brought to the penthouse, where John Smith is waiting for you. The only thing the man loves more than gambling is orgies. And you and your Texan husband have been invited to one. You can’t say if the thought makes you sick or... a little turned on. But you can’t deny that you’re nervous. You struggle to keep your face a relaxed mask the closer you get to the top of the building until eventually you’re standing there, squeezing August’s arm so tight that you’re probably cutting off his circulation.

The elevator dings and the doors swing open what feels like mere seconds later. You hesitate, feeling like you’re going to puke. The guard steps out and August drags you with him. He can’t say anything to assure you right now, not without blowing your cover, but he brings his other hand to rest on top of yours, still gripping his arm like a lifeline. The gesture is simple, a ghost of a touch, but it’s a lot for August. You find yourself relaxing beside him. He’s a good agent, even if he’s an asshole, and he won’t let anything happen to you.

The guard brings you to the main doors of the floor and asks for your IDs. You and August hand over your fake IDs, which Lorenzo had managed to make in under three hours, and the guard eyes them before handing them back. He then holds open the door and lets you and August step inside. You casually take in the foyer as August slides a lock into the door, ensuring no one can get out. If John Smith is here, he has nowhere to run.

His hand rests on your lower back, guiding you, keeping you grounded, as the two of you enter the main room. People are everywhere. Bodies are sprawled all over one another. And skin--there’s so much skin. You’ve never seen something so intimate--especially not with so many people involved. The sounds of moans and grunts and skin hitting skin fills the air and you freeze.

This is too much. You’re a good agent, you know how to do your job, but this is too much. You turn to leave, but August’s arms wrap around you, boxing you in.

“Please,” you whisper low enough for only him to hear, your voice shaking.

He leans down to brush his mouth against your neck and fuck does that make you shiver from something much different than fear. His arm wraps around your back, pulling you into him until you’re enveloped by his warmth and strength. “Just look at it as skin and bodies, nothing more,” he breathes into your ear, but the way he sounds when he whispers like that... your attention is no longer on what’s going on around you, but the man right in front of you.

“I can’t get involved,” you tell him, a fraction of your fear refusing to let go of your mind. “I can’t do this.”

“I won’t let anyone touch you,” he promises. You know he means it. You have no idea how he’s going to manage that without it looking suspicious, but you’re too relieved to care. “Kiss me.”

You listen, brushing your mouth gently across his. It’s brief and hardly counts as a kiss. You pull back from him and bite your lip, your face already burning. The look he gives you when you pull away makes your legs feel like jello. His pupils are fully dilated, those blue irises darker than you’ve ever seen them, and he looks at you the way he did in that hotel room--like he wants to eat you alive.

“Don’t make a sound,” he tells you before kissing you again. This time his hand is in your hair and the way he gently tugs on the roots resonates throughout your entire body. His tongue pushes past your lips and dances with your own. A moan falls from your throat and he pulls back with a glare. “I said don’t. Make. A sound.”

You open your mouth to defend yourself but he spins you around and pulls you against his chest before you can think of anything to say. He slides your tight pencil skirt up until it bunches around your waist, exposing your most intimate parts to everyone in the room--and there has to be at least ten people here. As his right hand moves between your legs, his left wraps around your throat.

“Don’t even gasp,” he orders in your ear as he starts touching you.

You squeeze your eyes shut and focus on not vocalizing the pleasure his hands are bringing you. His finger circles your clit in fast movements, making your legs weak, and you fall back onto him. He’s strong enough to easily keep you both standing. His other hand tightens and loosens around your throat at the same pace as his finger circling your clit. Pleasure and heat shoot through your body and it’s intense enough to make your head spin. You can feel a moan in the back of your throat and you’re seconds away from releasing it.

August slides his fingers between your folds. You’re so wet that his fingers make a slick sloshing sound as they move against you. He teases your entrance with the tip of his finger, entering and then pulling back out to circle your clit again. Your walls clench around nothing and you’re desperate for him to finger you. His finger finally pushes inside of you and you release a soft whine. As soon as the sound registers in his ears, he pulls his finger out and slaps your pussy with his hand. The feeling is so strange, so surprising, that you jump. It doesn’t hurt the way you thought it would. It feels good, the sting is addicting, and you realize with a start that you might be a masochist.

You wait for August to reprimand you again, but he doesn’t say anything. Just tightens his grip on your throat and pushes his finger back inside of you. His erection strains against his slacks and presses into your back. The thought that he’s wound up just from touching you, not even from being pleasured himself, makes you even wetter and your walls clench around his finger. He hasn’t even moved his digit inside of you yet and already you’re close to coming.

“Open your eyes,” he whispers.

Like you’re his puppet, you listen. You take in the sight of the people in front of you, fucking like animals. There’s one couple on the couch closest to you that catches your eye. The man is fucking the woman doggy-style and you can see the way her eyes are squeezed shut and her mouth falls open as the man pounds into her, grunting with every movement. The woman looks like she’s on cloud nine.

“I want you to watch them,” August tells you. “I want you to see the way that woman is about to burst from pleasure. The way her entire body is putty in that man’s hands because he’s making her feel so good.”

Your walls clench as he begins to curl his finger inside of you and you moan, though you don’t know if it’s from the way he’s touching you or the way he’s talking to you.

“That’s how I’m going to fuck you,” August continues, and the promise sends you closer to the edge. “I’m going to make you feel things not even you could make your body experience. I’m not going to stop fucking you until you’re begging me, until you’ve cum so many times that your body is shaking, and even then I won’t stop. I won’t stop, baby, I swear I won’t. Not until you’re a blabbering mess underneath me. Not until the only thing you can remember is my name.”

And suddenly you’re coming around his finger, around his hand, and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. He doesn’t slow his movement, doesn’t stop whispering filthy promises to you even after you’ve climaxed, and his relentlessness makes you cum again. You’re coherent enough to grab his neck and pull his mouth down to meet yours. The kiss is open-mouthed and he swallows every moan and sigh you give him.

“Put your hands up! CIA!” comes various shouts from the front door.

August pulls his finger out of you and you tug your skirt down in one fluid motion. Everyone else in the room freezes exactly how they are, not fully comprehending what’s going on as half a dozen CIA agents fill the room. You recognize three people from your team, but the others must be backup. Two agents run down the hall to check the other rooms of the penthouse. Pandemonium erupts all around you, but your body seems to be going through some kind of shock. All you can think, all you see, is August.

August.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts of the man in front of you that you don’t hear the gun go off. You don’t even realize someone’s been shot at until you feel the bullet punch through your ribs. You release a breath, your lungs already filling with blood, and your body goes limp. August catches you before you can hit the marbled floor. He’s the last thing you see before everything disappears.

#august walker #august walker imagine #august walker smut #august walker daddy #august walker mission impossible #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill mission impossible

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simp-for-spencer-reid · 4 years ago

Text

Sugar With a Side of Coffee Ch. 15

Chapter 15: Learning to Live With Each Other Series Masterlist

“God damnit!” Cate scoffed when her power went out for the second time this week. It seemed like her apartment had started falling apart since winter started. First, it had been her hot water that would run out too quickly. If the too frequent cold showers weren’t enough, her heat would go out on her floor. And the cherry on top of everything else was her flickering electrical problem. It wasn’t her that was blowing the fuse, but one of her neighbors on her floor and Cate had had enough. After finding her phone on the bathroom countertop in the dark, she texted Marta before fetching her work button up.

I’m gonna be late, power is out again. Ugh.

The lights flickered, before going off again. Cate felt Shrimp rub against her legs. He darted away when a drop from her wet hair dripped on his head. She collected her shoes and a bag of some overnight items. Cate didn’t know how much longer she could stay in these conditions. It wasn’t fair to Shrimp that she’d been staying at Spencer’s more and more.

A beanie was tightly pulled over Cate’s wet hair as her winter boots sloshed in the wet snow that covered the sidewalk. Cold air nipped at Cate’s face as she tensed her shoulders to try and hide her face in her winter jacket. Despite having brought her car to Virginia from New Hampshire, it would take less time to walk than to drive and find parking.

She didn’t think she had ever been this happy to see The Empty Mug’s glass doors. Pulling one open, she stood in the entry way on the checkered tile floor. Customers were already lining up at the counter where Marta was taking orders and prepping coffee. Spencer was already inside the cafe, drink in hand. He moved quickly to Cate, pressing a chaste kiss to her cold nose. He scrunched his face at the temperature. He noticed her wet hair peeking out from the beanie.

“Hi,” Cate breathed out, “I have to finish getting ready upstairs.” Cate didn’t want to impose on Marta and her family by inviting him up, but it was about time he would be leaving to head to the FBI office.

Spencer had gotten the impression that she did not want to talk about why she was late or why she was only half ready for work. She seemed frazzled and definitely disorganized. She had her own version of a go bag over her shoulder. It was hard not to half profile her when their exchanges were short. It helped him get a better idea of what was going through her head.

“Okay, I’ll see you later?” Spence asked as she reached up and kissed his cheek as a passing greeting.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, already bounding up the stairs. It was hard for Spencer to keep a respectful gaze on her backside since their trip back to Quantico in her car. He stole glances at her any chance he could get. She distracted him in the best way and after he tore his eyes from the doorway she disappeared through, he checked his watch and decided to get back on his way to work.

Mondays in the bullpen were spent collected around someone’s desk catching up on everyone’s plans. As Spencer approached the team around Morgan’s desk, he was telling of his latest date, and how he was invited back to her house. JJ rolled her eyes at his story. Emily caught Spencer’s eyes as he walked up. Rossi smiled at him as he approached.

“Morning,” she greeted. “Welcome to Morgan’s Intro to ‘Swag’ lecture,” Emily joked as Morgan feigned being offended.

“Emily, be respectful,” Rossi started, “He doesn’t have ‘swag’, he has ‘game’” he jokingly clarified.

“Alright alright,” Morgan held his hands up. Hotch walks in, interrupting their catch up. A new case was in.

JJ sat across from Spencer on the jet, trying hard to stay focused on the file she had in her hands. Spencer could tell something was up by her fidgeting. She looked at him every minute almost on the dot. She wouldn’t meet his eyes if he looked back up at her. Finally, he was going to confront her, but she bit him to it, speaking first.

“How was your holiday?” she asked. It felt like a loaded question.

“Great, how was yours? Did Henry and Michael get everything on their list to Santa?” Spencer only asked because when JJ addresses their letters, they are sent to his house, and he replies on special christmas themed stationary and he even gets into character with a little help from a special wooden fountain pen that he dips in ink. He tries his best to disguise his handwriting so that he can keep the facade a little longer.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure they have every dinosaur figurine known to paleontologists across the world. Henry’s room puts the Smithsonian to shame. Michael’s room looks like a dinosaur themed carnival game prize booth exploded inside of it.” JJ laughed, before getting back on track. “Did you go somewhere special?” she asked, picking at the paper clips and brass fasteners on the file.

And there was the other shoe that dropped.

“You look like you already know the answer to that,” he replied. Spencer thought back to the holidays. He ran through everything that had gone on during his short vacation. He had flown to Vegas, then he had asked Penelope to get Cate’s home address, then he had flown to New Hampshire…

He asked Penelope to track Cate’s phone to get her home address.

Of course she must have shared with the team that he was flying to visit Cate’s family for the holidays.

“Penelope,” both Spencer and JJ spoke her name at the same time.

“Things must be getting pretty serious for the two of you?” JJ continued, observing her friend’s face.

“Yeah, I am taking this seriously. We both are.” Spencer told his friend, “I’m thinking of asking her to move in with me.” he confessed. JJ’s jaw dropped.

“That’s a big move for you. Are you sure?” she questioned, wanting only the best for her friend.

“Of course. I know it seems quick, but I know her lease is up soon and I figured it’s a good idea for us.” Spencer tried to quickly summarize his decision so they could get back to the case.

It was dark on the way home from the case on the jet. It was a rare occasion to be back in the same day, but it was a welcomed occurrence. Spencer couldn’t wait to go to Cate’s and be able to go to sleep by her side. His eyes felt heavy, but the short ride back to Quantico wasn’t long enough to be able to get in a good refreshing nap.

The drive to Cate’s went by slowly and it felt like Spencer was getting stopped by every red light. He played with his tie and pulled his sleeves up to his elbows, trying to focus and stay awake. He could even feel his eyes shutting on his way up to her floor in the elevator.

He was not prepared when she opened the door for him in nothing but one of his work button ups. He felt his heart quicken and he felt the most awake he’s been in the past few hours.

Giving a quick glance around her apartment, he first noticed the assortment of candles illuminating the space and then the wave of a mixture of all sorts of scents came around. Before he could even greet her, she pulled him by the strap of his satchel and into the doorway, closing it behind him. She swiftly moved one of her hands to his tie and pulled him down to meet her lips, kissing him furiously.

“What are you doing?” he asked, holding her carefully. He didn’t mind one bit, but it came out of nowhere.

“Trying to warm up; it’s freezing in here,” Cate hushed out. She connected their lips again, but began dragging him back towards her room.

“Do you think it has anything to do with you not wearing pants?” he panted as she fiddled with his tie and took his bag off his shoulder.

“Stop talking and shut up,” he placed his hands on her face as he deepened the kiss.

“That’s the same thing,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Just kiss me,” she pulled on his tie harder towards her. Once in her room, they stumbled their way down onto the bed. Spencer used his muscle memory to undo the buttons of her top while Cate did the same to him. As he slid the fabric off her shoulders, he could feel her weight shift. Then he felt her soft fuzzy fur against his arm.

Opening his eyes, he gave a small shriek and moved to cover his exposed chest as Shrimp laid down between them, loafing. Cate threw her head back laughing, as she pressed Spencer’s shirt together over her chest. Spencer watched her. He loved hearing that laugh. The tension between them was broken in the best way.

Spencer laid on his back, Cate pressed into his side. They had a blanket thrown over them, but Spencer could feel Cate’s skin against him. It was cold in her apartment, he had deduced that the heat must be broken or some sort of malfunction in her building. If anything, it prompted him more to ask her. She shouldn’t be living with no heat in the winter. A wave of confidence surged through him.

“Do you want to move in with me?” He began to play with his fingers. He stared at her ceiling as the silence grew between them. She placed a tentative hand on his.

“Are you serious?” Cate finally answered.

“I- yeah I am, but I don’t want to pressure you or anything,” Spencer licked his lips, a million thoughts running through his head.

“You want me to move in with you?” Cate clarified, now sitting up, putting her weight on her elbow to properly look him in the face.

“Yes,” Spencer breathed out, the million thoughts seemed to stream out of his head when he looked at her, “I want you to live with me.”

“Okay,” Cate couldn’t help the smile growing on her face. “I’ll move in with you.” Spencer grabbed her face in his hands and guided her face to his, kissing her with all of his excitement.

The next morning, Spencer and Cate went over technicalities of moving in together and a time frame of moving her things to his apartment. Her lease wasn’t up for another two months, but the two wanted to be organized and make the move as smooth as possible.

It made Spencer look at his apartment in a new light. When he was home, he imagined how some furniture from Cate’s apartment would fit in- both literally and stylistically. He knew the first thing he would get rid of would be that god-awful uncomfortable red thing he called a couch. He really hoped her sectional would fit up the apartment stairs; he hoped he could clear up a corner in his living room for the matching chair.

And of course, there were discussions on properly acclimating Shrimp to Spencer’s apartment. Cate was adamant on ‘Shrimp proofing’ his apartment before her cat finally made the move. It was decided that Shrimp would be the first to officially move in. Shrimp no longer had to deal with the cold temperatures of the lack of heat and being left alone in Cate’s apartment.

It was a bit of getting used to on Spencer’s part of living full time with a cat, but he was glad it was with Shrimp. Spencer wasn’t fond of the litter box in his small bathroom, but didn’t want it somewhere like the living room- it was moved to a corner in his office. The grain of the litter that Spencer now found everywhere made it hard to focus. Cat toys littered the floor of his apartment, which was a bit of a contrast to his typically clean area rug.

In Spencer’s small closet of a pantry, he now had to get used to the container of Shrimp’s food. Cate used to keep it in the bag, but Spencer convinced her to put it in an airtight container, spewing facts of keeping it from going stale and such.

Speaking of his pantry, it had come to get over filled as Cate began to store more food at Spencer’s house. Cate was a notorious snacker and she had plenty of boxes of little crisps and snacks to feed the entire BAU team. It hadn’t really bothered him except for one time:

He had come home from work a bit early and was ready to relax with a good book. The previous case still had a hold on him, consuming his thoughts. Cate wasn’t in the common space of his apartment, her usual spot on the sectional was empty. He could hear her favorite show playing from his bedroom. Normally, he would’ve been distracted by the cute way she laughed as the show played on her phone screen and her hair messily thrown up in a bun. This time, his attention was drawn to the bag of chips laying next to her on the bed.

“What are you doing? You can’t eat on the bed!” Spencer had made a grab for the bag, but Cate held it up.

“Relax!” she closed the bag, getting out of bed to go put it away. While she was in the kitchen, Spencer was brushing crumbs off the bed.

“Now there’s crumbs all over the bed!” This was the last feeling he wanted: to feel remnants of chips scratching his skin when he was trying to get to unwind.

“Spence, I’ll get it, don’t worry. I’ll get it.” Cate repeated, coming back to the room and placing a hand on his back to calm him down. “I’ll get the vacuum and I’ll clean it up.” Spencer finally turned to look at her. Cate could tell he was upset, and could tell a case might’ve been a bit rough.

He wasn’t totally innocent, though. Cate realized he began to shadow her around the apartment. He wasn’t quite used to sharing a space with someone else. If she left her dirty dishes next to the sink, he was right behind her, placing them into the sink. If she was doing laundry and putting towels away, he went in after and folded them to his liking, putting them in the order that he always put them. He was constantly rearranging things behind her, like the throw blanket over the back of the couch, or remaking the bed after her. She had confronted him about it when she had confirmed she wasn’t just making it up in her mind.

“If you don’t like the way I do things, you can just say so,” Cate told him, circling back into their room after she had made the bed. She watched him re tucking the sheets and fluffing the pillows.

“You don’t do it wrong, but studies show if you make sure the sheets have no creases under the comforter, you’re significantly less likely to get bed bugs. And if you keep the pillows at this angle, they keep their shape better and it’s better for your neck while you sleep,” Spencer spoke, waving his hands animatedly.

“Okay, so show me how you do it,” Cate asked. That day, Cate and Spencer spent it laughing and making and remaking the bed. Cate would tease him, making up fake specifics as to why she made the bed her way.

After the first few weeks, they both learned to live with each other. They started to compliment each other’s ways of living: Cate became more tidy and Spencer became a little less uptight. Spencer grew to love having Shrimp around full time, all of what came with being a pet parent.

Shrimp would follow Spencer around the apartment like he’d lived there all his life. While Spencer enjoyed his home brew of what Cate took home from The Empty Mug, Shrimp could be found sitting by his ankles. Spencer learned all sorts of cat facts, and would share with Shrimp the difference between a cat’s eyesight and that of a human. Shrimp liked watching Spencer talk, though his focus was often on the doctor’s long hair that framed his face.

Cate came home one night from The Empty Mug, meeting Spencer and Shrimp in the kitchen. She watched Spencer talk Shrimp through the growing process of kittens and their weekly stages and milestones of development. Shrimp was sitting on the floor, looking up at Spencer. Cate bent down, calling to Shrimp with kissy noises. Shrimp didn’t even break his gaze with Spencer, merely pointing an ear and flicking his tail towards Cate.

“Traitor,” Cate muttered, walking over to Spencer, wrapping her arms around his middle, “He’s my boyfriend!” Cate said down to her cat. She could feel the rumble of Spencer’s laugh. Spencer pressed his nose to the top of Cate’s head, breathing in the smell of the coffee shop.

The next morning was something Spencer could get used to waking up to forever. Cate was in his housecoat, singing quietly while making toast, having since given up on trying to cook anything else in fear of setting the smoke alarms off like before. Shrimp was sitting on one of the island stools, watching intently. Cate grabbed two mugs from his cabinet, his favorite navy blue one and her own that she brought from her old apartment- an orange one with a cat's face that resembled Shrimp.

Cate jumped when she noticed Spencer, leaning against the doorframe to his bedroom, watching her with a smile on his face.

“Good morning, handsome.” she smiled, handing him a homemade coffee of his usual order from the Empty Mug. “Sugar with a side of coffee for your sweet tooth.” Cate placed a kiss on his lips as she passed the mug to his hands.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #sugar with a side of coffee fanfic

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13-reasons-ideas · 4 years ago

Text

Can’t Go Back Part 9

A/N: *sneaks onto your dash with this chapter and runs away quickly* I’m sorry for the delay. Addy’s mum’s birthday dinner will be in the next next chapter. I felt this one was long enough. Feedback is appreciated. Much love as always- Em

During our wind down time in the evening, I decided to bring up the idea of my friends coming over for dinner. He was done working on an assignment, reading over some sports book on the sectional. I was curled up on the other end of the couch, typing a for fun idea I had. “Can you pass the almonds, please?” I asked him. He passed the bowl over to me without looking up and I took a handful. After he put the bowl down, I asked him, “hey so, how would you feel about my friends coming for dinner on Saturday?” He laughed, assuming it was a joke. When I didn’t laugh, he looked up and looked at me funny.

“Oh. You were serious.”

“Yes.”

“Why would we have people who don’t like me over for dinner?”

“Because they’re my friends? Scott and Charlie come over for dinner. So does Justin.” I set my laptop aside on the coffee table.

“Addison, the difference between them and your friends is that they like me. And are supportive of our relationship.”

“Well this morning you talked to Clay and you weren’t horrible to him and he wasn’t horrible to you.”

“Being nice in a coffee shop in public is very different than having them over to our home in our private space. For all I know, it will be ‘why you’re terrible for our friend’ to me or ‘why did you make such an awful choice’ to you. I’m not going to sit here and let them do that to you. I really couldn’t give a shit what they say about me.” He had gotten up for a drink about halfway through his response.

“I wouldn’t let them do that to you. In fact, I was planning to tell them if they said anything like that, they would be asked to leave. Also, you need to stop moving around so much. The doctor said to rest.”

“That’s fair. But still. I don’t think it’s a good idea. I am not bedridden Addy. I can get myself a bottle of water.”

“I would do it for you.”

“Babe. My friends like you. Hell, I think Bryce likes you.”

“Happy joy. Bryce Walker likes me.” I muttered under my breath. “If you give them a chance, they might like you.”

“If I give them a chance? Addy, I don’t think I’m the half of this equation who needs to give someone a chance.”

“Okay, you’re right. I just don’t want them think this was some spur of the moment, ‘let’s go to Vegas’ thing. And I don’t want to have to choose between my friends and my husband. Because we all know that I would choose you.”

“I get it. You don’t want to lose your friends.”

“Exactly. I feel like maybe if they saw us together outside of school, they might realize that you aren’t as bad as they think you are. That they might see that I made the right choice.”

“I don’t know Addy. I don’t like it. We don’t like each other. I don’t see it going well.”

“I would do it for you.” I gave him my very best puppy dog eyes.

“That’s not fair. This isn’t you trying to get me to go to the store for ice cream. This is dinner with your friends who don’t like me.”

“Would you do it if I said we can play hooky to have sex when you get cleared?”

He was quiet for a while, contemplating my offer. “Would the sex start when we get home from the doctor?”

“Depending what time it was, yes.”

“If they say anything out of line can I kick them out immediately?”

“Maybe give them a warning first. If they say anything else, then you can.” He was quiet again. I watched him take a sip of water, crossing my fingers for a yes. After many minutes, he sighed and reluctantly agreed, “fine. They can come over. They better behave.”

“I’ll tell them to be on good behaviour.”

“Good.” Monty checked the clock on the wall and yawned. “It’s getting late baby. We should probably head to bed soon.” He placed his hand on my ankle and rubbed it up and down.

I nodded and grabbed my laptop to save my work. I got up and smirked playfully, rubbing his hair. “Addy.” he exclaimed as he laughed. I smiled prettily at him. “No touchy.” I shook my head in response and headed to our room for the night, where he joined me a few moments later.

The next morning, I left Monty at the car and went in search of my friends.

“Nice shirt.” Jess laughed when I approached them. I couldn’t tell if she was serious or being a bitch.

“I was tired this morning. Ripped jeans and Monty’s baseball shirt were in easy reach.”

“Late night?” Justin asked.

“I fucking wish.” I muttered quietly. I cleared my throat before answering normally, “not really. Just one of those mornings where the bed is so much more comfortable than it was when I was going to bed. I think going to bed at three thirty the other day messed with my internal clock. Anyway, I talked to Monty last night. He agreed to have you guys over on Saturday. You need to behave because it’s our house. It is our private space. We can and will ask you to leave if you don’t keep it together. No questions about his family. Not negotiable.”

“And if we don’t behave?” Zach asked.

I tried to keep from rolling my eyes. “You will be asked to leave.”

“That’s it?”

“It depends on what you say or do.”

“That sounds fair.” He replied. The first warning bell rang, and my friends left Justin and I to talk for a bit and walk to class.

“So, what did you have to promise him to agree to that? Or rather, how much did you have to promise him?”

“Hooky once he is medically cleared. And I might need to take the next day off too.”

“Damn. Sounds like a fun time.”

“It’s only been like four days and I already have an itch. That clearance can’t come fast enough Justin.”

“I believe it. Why do you think I hardly ever go to your place?”

“We aren’t that bad.” I rolled my eyes at him.

** **

Friday night was usually reserved for football and a movie or possibly Monty going to Bryce’s for a party. One nice thing about people not knowing about us, was that I wasn’t subjected to the parties. I was concerned that I would have to go with him now that people know about us, but he chose to stay home tonight. I was silently thankful for that as he had a tendency to… overindulge and come home late sometimes after spending time with Bryce. It wasn’t a very frequent thing, but it had been the cause of some discussions and arguments both before and after we got married.

I decided to stay home from the game since Monty wouldn’t be playing and my lack of sleep recently had begun catching up with me. For dinner, I had decided to make stuffed shell pasta. Half of them had spinach and the other half only had cheese. We watched Oliver & Company while we ate and cuddled on the couch. When that movie ended, we watched this week’s episode of FBI before calling it a night. I’m so tired. Climbing into bed in one of Monty’s t-shirts and a clean pair of underwear, I snuggled up under the blankets. He got in bed beside me and I cuddled closer. It was just passed two o’clock.

I was almost asleep when I heard him speak up. “Addy?”

“Hmmm?” I mumbled.

“I’m uh… I’m kind of horny.”

“That’s nice dear.” I mumbled patting his chest gently.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

I could tell he was expecting a legitimate answer now, so I sat up some. “That’s unfortunate for you then.”

“Come on babe. Please?” He asked, gesturing to his growing hard on. You have no idea how much I want to say yes. But sleep. Sleep is good. I decided to have a little fun with this before going to sleep. I’ll pay for this when he gets cleared, but I’m not going to complain.

“I mean… there are other things we could do….” I said, seductively.

He smirked, playing innocent. “Like what?” I have him exactly where I want him.

“Like going the fuck to sleep.” I told him, promptly rolling over as I laid back down. He made the cutest, most disappointed sound I had ever heard, and I had to fight to hold back an ‘awe’.

On Saturday mornings we usually had Scott and Charlie over for coffee and breakfast. This morning, Charlie had a little too late of a night, so it was just Scott. I was up early-too early for how late we went to bed-to get a start on making breakfast. I had decided to make coffee Belgian waffles and buttermilk biscuits since it was just the three of us this morning. I would go back to making my more traditional breakfast meals next week. Or if Monty’s friends really do like me, possibly scale the meals up a little in the future. I didn’t bother to throw any pants on, since it was so early.

Monty and I had a rule about him sleeping in on Saturdays unless there was an imminent event happening that he had to be awake for. We did not deem groceries or awkward dinners with my friends, imminent issues. I swayed around the kitchen, humming to myself while I cooked. “If I knew this would be my view as often as it is on Saturdays, I would never have made the sleeping in rule a thing.”

I jumped slightly, not expecting Monty to be up yet. I had a spoon in my mouth, tasting the espresso and buttermilk mixture to see if the ratio was right. “Morning.” I greeted. “Needs a little more espresso.” I muttered to myself, using a teaspoon to sprinkle more in.

“Need any help?” he offered, making his way over to me. The crutches were easy for him to use at this point. He grabbed his favourite mug and poured a cup of coffee.

“Sure. Can you grab me the ricotta from the fridge? And put the mixing bowl and whisk in the freezer?” He nodded and went about the tasks.

“Anything else?”

“Do you want fruit? I’m also making biscuits.”

“Fruit sounds good. What do we have?”

“There are some berries in the fridge that have to be eaten. If you use apples-.”

“Wait until closer to breakfast, I know.” I laughed at him.

“Anything else you want to add, go ahead.” He nodded and got to work at the table, mixing the salad.

While the waffle batter hydrated, I went to get changed and get ready. I settled on a purple long sleeve dress and a pair of leggings so I wouldn’t have to change when we went to the store. I curled my hair and pulled it into a ponytail and did some quick makeup, so I looked a little more presentable. By the time I was ready, Monty had started mixing the biscuits together at the table. I watched him for a few minutes, as he poured the buttermilk in the bowl and used the back of a wooden spoon to mix it together into a shaggy mass. “There’s something very attractive about a man who can cook.”

He chuckled, rolling the dough out. “Come help me cut them out? Round or square?”

“You choose.” I watched as he decided what to do. First, he grabbed the circle cutter and used the back side of it to see how much dough he would have to reshape after. Then he used the back of a knife to measure how many squares he could get out of the dough. He nodded to himself, focusing on his task.

“Square. Re-rolled biscuits are gross.” I walked over to the island and grabbed the spatula and a cookie sheet. After transferring them to the sheet, I set them in the oven he had preheated.

Ten minutes later, Scott knocked on the door. I answered it and Monty manned the waffle iron. “Hey Scott.” I greeted as he pulled me into a hug.

“Hey Addy. How are you?”

“I’m good, you? I heard you guys had a pretty late night last night.”

“Well you know how it is.” He replied, brushing it off as though it was no big deal.

“I know. Biscuits are about to come out of the oven and waffles are on.”

We walked into the kitchen, where Monty was cutting up an apple into chunks. “Hey Scott.” He greeted his friend, not looking up.

“Hey Monty.” He could immediately tell there was something off about him. “What’s up with him?��

“He’s cranky that we can’t have sex.” I half muttered back.

“I can hear you guys, you know.”

“I know. But I’m not wrong.”

“I’m not cranky.” He replied, petulantly.

“Mhmm. Sure thing sweetie.” I poured more batter in the waffle iron as the timer went off on the oven before setting to work on espresso whipped cream.

“I’ll get it.” Scott offered.

“Great.”

“Is the fruit supposed to make us feel better about the carbs?”

“Yes. Carbs are more to make you feel better about drinking last night.”

“How do you know I was drinking, hmmm Addison?” I gave him a come on look and he conceded. “Fine. Maybe I had a couple of beers.”

Our conversation flowed easily over breakfast. “Her friends are really coming over for dinner tonight? Here?”

“Yes.” I responded before Monty could.

“And this is something you agreed to?”

“Reluctantly, yes. I reserve the right to tell them to get the hell out of my house though.” Monty replied, motioning to the door.

“Whose bright idea was this exactly?”

“Justin’s. He thinks it would be ‘beneficial’ for her friends to get to know me outside of school.”

“Ohhh. Okay. Are we placing bets on how awfully this will go?”

“No.” I said, firmly.

“Addy, no offence but this is going to be a disaster.” Scott told me.

“Maybe. But if it is, do I really need to consider them my friends?”

“No, you don’t. I just don’t understand why you want to have them over for dinner.”

“Because I like to cook and if we did coffee, they wouldn’t stay long enough to listen.” Scott ruminated on that for a while and shrugged.

“These waffles are amazing by the way. What’s in them?”

“Coffee.”

“Because just coffee isn’t enough caffeine for you?”

“Not really, no.”

“What are you going to do when you get pregnant and can’t have caffeine?” My eyes widened and Monty choked on his food. We exchanged a panicked look with each other. “Oh shit. You’re not… are you?” Scott asked, thinking our exchange was something that it wasn’t.

“No!” I replied quickly. “No tiny humans. Not that we wouldn’t have them, but not for a long time.”

“Okay good. I would have needed to go talk to Zach about how to remove my foot from my mouth then.” Monty laughed at Scott’s comment and I couldn’t help but laugh a little along with him.

“Can I keep a tally of how many times he puts his foot in his mouth tonight? Please?”

“Yes. But only so you can tell Scott about it.”

“Can I get out of grocery shopping this week?” Monty asked.

“Why?”

“Because I’m injured. I’m supposed to rest Addy.”

“You just want to stay home and watch the game before my friends get here. But I suppose since you’re supposed to sit with it elevated, you can stay home. I’ll need help when I get home though.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t make a mess.” Mhmm.

Scott left shortly after breakfast and I got my things together to go to the store. “List, keys, wallet, dad’s cash for tomorrow’s dinner, phone, re-useable bags. What am I forgetting?” I mumbled to myself.

“Shoes?”

“No, I have sh-. That’s it. Shoes. Thanks love.” I threw on a pair of black Converse and kissed Monty goodbye. “I’ll be back in a while. Call if you need anything.”

“I will. I love you.”

“I love you too.” With that, I ran out the door on my way to Kroger.

The store wasn’t super busy for just after noon on a Saturday. I texted Justin while I checked my list. Hey, I was thinking chicken stuffed peppers tonight? I’m at the store now. “On to the list.” I muttered quietly. I made my way around to the deli and bakery section of the store to grab bread and prosciutto for the wellington tomorrow night. Justin’s ringtone interrupted my audiobook. I answered the FaceTime quickly. Thank God I’m wearing headphones. “Hey Justin. What’s up?”

“You know, the usual. How’s the store?” He was sitting on the counter in their room.

“It’s okay.”

“I asked Clay and he said stuffed peppers is fine.” He replied, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth.

“Okay. I’ll grab some ground chicken while I’m here.” I grabbed some milk and puff pastry from the frozen section, because we didn’t have enough of the batch I made.

“Clay also asked if we should bring anything? I told him no.”

“No, but you can tell everyone to leave their attitudes at home.” He laughed.

“Don’t worry Addy. I did. Clay knows he doesn’t want to be in the doghouse with you.”

“What about Zach? What’s gotten into him by the way?”

“Well Zach might be a little harder to control. I think he’s upset he missed that you guys were together. I don’t know. He’s my friend but sometimes he’s hard to read.” I nodded, before directing my attention to the butcher counter.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“Hello, how may I help you Miss?”

“I was wondering if I could get a one-kilogram beef fillet please?”

“Sure thing Miss.” I watched as he went through the case to find the right size one and get it prepared for me.

“Thank you.” I said as I took it. He nodded in acknowledgement.

“Mom wanted beef wellington for dinner tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Dad gave me the money for it.”

As I made my way through the aisles while we talked, I grabbed the few things we needed for day to day eating until I got to the produce. There, I grabbed cremini mushrooms and some other vegetables. “These peppers look okay?” I asked Justin, holding up a bag of assorted peppers.

“Yeah. That looks fine.” I was about to head to the till when I got another call.

“Hang on, Monty is calling me.” I placed my call on hold and answered my husband. “Hey honey. Everything okay?”

“It’s good here. You’re still at the store?”

“Yeah, why? Did we need something?”

“Can you grab me some more fruit snacks please?”

“Or and hear me out for a minute. I could get you some real fruit.”

I could practically hear the face he made. “No thanks. I was hungry but didn’t know what to have, so I finished the last pack.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you your precious sugar shapes.” I laughed and we hung up. “Sorry. We had a fruit snack emergency.”

“He ran out again?”

“Yup. I’m going to run and grab some before heading home. See you tonight. Love you.”

“See you with friends in tow. Love you too Addy.”

Thankfully, checkout was quick, and I was able to get home by one. Monty helped me carry the light bags in the house and I put the groceries away. From the corner of my eye, I saw him going to grab another bag of fruit snacks. “No. Put it back. We have real food, you know.” I heard him sigh and skulk over to the fridge, which he opened for two seconds before closing again.

“I see no real food here. And fruit snacks are real food.”

“I mean food that isn’t just sugar with the word fruit written on it, so people think they are being healthy. And yes, we do. I know because I was just at the store.”

“I don’t want that food.”

“Have a bowl of cereal then.” I heard him grab the container and turned around from getting the beef tenderloin wrapped, to watch him stick his hand in it and eat straight from the bin. “Monty.”

He gulped his bite down. “Addy.”

“Did all of our bowls go missing while I was out?”

“No. I just don’t feel like dirtying a dish.”

“But that is shared food.”

“It’s not like we haven’t shared anything worse.” He retorted, that sexy little smirk spreading across his features.

“That’s different. Also, don’t start you.” I pointed at him.

“You love me.”

“I know. Can you set the table please? And stop eating out of the box.”

“Why? It’s only like one thirty.”

“Because this way we don’t have to do it later.” I shrugged.

He sighed again and set to work. “The good tablecloth and dishes?”

“No, just the regular ones are fine. We will use the good stuff tomorrow for an actually special occasion.”

My friends arrived around four thirty. I was putting the peppers in the oven, so Monty answered the door. I held my breath waiting for someone to say something. Nothing was said. Not a word. He merely led them into the kitchen and looked to me, expectantly. I gave him my best say something look. Justin cleared his throat awkwardly. My friends, Monty, and I all just stared at each other as though we were waiting to see who would crack and speak first.

“I know you said not to bring anything, but Mom made me bring something because it’s polite or something like that. So, she sent me with a loaf of fresh bread.” Alex offered, awkwardly handing the loaf to Monty. He doesn’t bite. Or at least, he doesn’t bite people who aren’t me.

“Um, thanks Alex. That’s….” He looked at me, begging for help. I nodded at him encouragingly. “nice of you.” His smile was very obviously forced.

“Thank you, Alex. Tell Carolyn we appreciate it.”

“I will. It’s still weird you call her by her first name even when she isn’t around.” He laughed. I joined him and it seemed to break the tension.

“Need any help Addy?” Justin asked, not noticing Monty shaking his head frantically at him. Zach, who still hadn’t said anything, looked at him strangely. I don’t know if the fact that he hasn’t said anything is good or bad.

“No. In fact, out of the kitchen. You know the rules.”

“I know, I know. Just thought I would offer.” I didn’t miss the look he and Monty shared.

“Rules?” Clay asked.

“Yes. Cooking for people is generally my thing. If I need help, I’ll ask for it. If one of you had offered, I would have been more polite, but since Justin spends about as much time here as he does at home, he knows better.”

“Scott already helped this morning. I’m surprised she didn’t have an aneurysm or something.” Monty added.

“We were both busy and all he did was take stuff out of the oven. I have everything under control. Go play nice boys.”

I heard Zach mutter to Clay and Alex as Monty and Justin led them back to the living room, “notice Monty isn’t doing anything to help her.” The boys nodded.

I looked to see if Monty heard him. He didn’t appear to as he sat and elevated his leg. Good. No fights before dinner. Yet anyway. I cleared my throat, catching their attention. “Two things. One, he helped me all morning and is under doctor’s orders to rest. And two, keep your comments in check. I wasn’t kidding about you being asked to leave if you can’t be nice.”

“Sorry.” Zach muttered. Clay and Alex nodded and at least looked a little guilty.

I went about my business in the kitchen while the boys spent time in the living room. Jessica had a family thing tonight, or at least, she said she did, so she wasn’t joining us. Glancing over at the group of men in my living room, I noted the clear division between them. Monty and Justin were seated in the accent chairs, while Clay, Alex, and Zach were seated on the sectional. Their conversation seemed stilted, though that was unsurprising. They don’t really have a lot in common. And also, don’t really like each other all that much. At some point, Zach, Monty, and Justin must have started talking about football because Clay and Alex came wandering back into the kitchen. I chopped some romaine for salad as they pulled up the bar stools at the island.

“Drove you away already?” I asked, smirking.

“They’re talking sports.” Clay said.

“Ah yes. At least it’s a safe topic I guess.”

“That’s true. How’s he doing, by the way? I don’t know if it would be weird for me to ask him, since you know. We don’t like each other.” Alex asked.

“He’s doing okay. I think it’s starting to get to him a bit, especially since he has to go to practice and games, but the pain and swelling have decreased. I don’t think it would be weird. Awkward maybe.”

“Should I even bother asking you to explain what actually happened?”

“Something about falling and bending and extending. I’m not really sure to be honest. I spent most of that night and the next day in varying degrees of shock.”

“That really sucks. I’m sorry Addy.” Clay smiled, sadly.

“It’s okay Clay. It could have been a lot worse, so he got pretty lucky.” Raising my voice slightly, I asked the whole group. “Does anyone want anything to drink?”

I was met with a chorus of water, no thanks, and whatever is in the fridge from my friends. “Well Justin, there are multiple things in the fridge, so what would you like?”

“I don’t know. Is there any of that passionfruit something something juice left?”

I opened the fridge to check, even though I knew there was. Neither Monty nor I liked it very much. “Yes. Since you’re the only one who drinks it, do you want to take it home?” While he thought about it, I went about getting drinks together.

“Nah. You guys can keep it here.” He responded after a couple of minutes. I rolled my eyes.

Back in the kitchen, I muttered to Clay, “I’ll send it home with you.” He nodded. I took the peppers out of the oven and let them rest on the stove for a couple of minutes. “Hey Zach, can I borrow you for a minute?”

“Sure, why?” He replied, getting up and walking over to me.

“While I’m thinking about it and have you here, can you grab the food processor from the cupboard up there?” I asked, pointing to the corner cabinet. He nodded and placed it on the counter for me. “Thanks. I need it tomorrow morning and I don’t feel like waking Monty up because I fell off the counter.”

“Again.” I heard him say as he came up behind me and placed a soft kiss on my head. We could both feel my friend’s eyes on us.

“I did not fall off the counter.” I complained.

“You would have if I hadn’t caught you.”

“Well if you didn’t put everything up on the shelves I can’t reach, we wouldn’t have this problem.” I argued playfully.

“But then I wouldn’t get to enjoy watching you struggle.” He teased.

“Enjoy watching her struggle…?” Clay asked, quietly. Monty turned to my friends.

“She makes these little grunts and her face does this frowning, determined, narrowing thing. It’s funny.” My friends shared looks with each other. Justin laughed at them. They have no idea what to make of this. Monty is actually a normal human being? I slipped my hand under his elbow and noticed he wasn’t using his crutches.

“Babe.”

“What?”

“Your crutches are… where exactly?”

“Over there.” he replied, pointing to the living room, where they were propped up against the back of the chair.

“And they aren’t here, with you because?”

“I’m not in pain or anything Addy. It’s fine.” I gave him my best wife isn’t impressed look.

“Mhmm. Just don’t complain to me when you’re in pain later.” I patted his arm and kissed his cheek, once again leaning against the counter and his arm.

“They do this. Everything is fine.” Justin told our now highly perplexed friends.

“Are you in shit?” Clay asked Monty, skeptically. He chuckled.

“Nah. She says I can’t complain about it, but as soon as you guys leave, she will be ushering me to the couch and pestering me with pillows and ice.”

Clay nodded as though he understood, but he was obviously still confused. This might be a little too much humanization a little too quickly. I transferred the peppers onto a serving plate and set them on the table. “Dinner is ready.” I offered, cheerily. The awkward tension that had returned during our exchange was beginning to get to me. The boys all smiled at the mention of food. “Sit anywhere except there and there.” I told them, pointing out Justin and Monty’s usual seats. I knew the seat next to Monty would be left empty for me.

Zach had stayed fairly quiet before we sat down. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before he started back on his new talking without thinking thing.

“Seems a little soon to be needing a two-bedroom house, don’t you think Addy?” I looked up from my salad at him, my eyes darting back and forth trying to make sense of him seemingly random comment.

“Um, no?” I asked. It was my turn to be confused.

“So there won’t be any… additions… to your little family any time soon?”

Once again today, I turned to Monty in shock. He was staring at Zach with wide eyes. “Uh. No. No tiny humans. Not for a very long time.” I turned my attention to Justin, “do I look pregnant or something?” “No. You look perfectly normal.”

“Thank you.” I looked at Zach again. He seemed to be itching to ask a follow up question. “Yes, Zach? Go ahead.” I clutched Monty’s hand under the table.

“I’m just going to assume I’m not the only one wondering how you guys afford to live here. I mean, you’re seniors in high school.”

I sighed, knowing this question would be coming sooner or later. “It’s my parent’s rental house. This was their wedding gift to us.”

“Okay?” He asked, gesturing for me to continue.

“They felt like since we will be going off to college next year, they would rather have us focus on school instead of how we were going to pay rent and stuff. That we should worry about that when we have to, and not when we live in town.”

“And they didn’t think living with the in-laws was a very good idea as newlyweds.” Monty added.

“So, as a gift to us, they let us live here rent and utilities free. Obviously, our personal expenses are our own to deal with, but as far as living expenses go, they are covered until we move to wherever we end up going next year.”

“Interesting.” Zach muttered.

“It’s not like they kicked their old tenants out. Their lease was up a few weeks before we got married and they were moving away. They just decided not to relist it.” Monty explained.

“Plus, both houses are paid for and it’s not like they need the money.”

Justin laughed. “You’re not wrong.”

“I know. Gran has started checking in now that I’m married. Wants to know if she needs to update the will.”

“Why?” Clay asked, seeming genuinely interested.

“Seems Zach isn’t the only one wondering if there will be any kids soon. She wants to know if she has to split my alleged trust fund.”

“She still ranting about how you guys didn’t ask her to come?”

Monty shot him a look. “Justin. It’s her grandmother. She’s old and rich. What do you think?”

“I don’t know, maybe she forgot?” he replied, shrugging.

“She’s cranky, not senile. How well do you think it would have gone if she was here?” I questioned.

He contemplated his answer for a moment. The colour and smile slowly slipped from his face. “No. That would have been bad.”

“Exactly.”

“Why would it have been bad?” Zach asked, but I assumed he could guess why. The guy drives a sixty-thousand-dollar car for Christ’s sake.

“Because he isn’t an obscenely rich white dude who wears suits to school every day. She would have probably stopped the whole thing and brought in some son of an Earl or something.”

“Kind of figured. Son of an Earl you say? Which one?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Sandwich? If not an Earl, some other rich British guy who would be boring as hell.”

“Are you saying I’m not boring?” Monty gasped.

“Well… you’re kind of broken right now so if I was your wife I would say yes.” Alex replied, quietly. I turned to Monty, trying to gauge his reaction. He looked… amused. And then he burst out laughing. Clay turned to me, with his brows raised high.

“I would argue it makes me more exciting.”

“How?”

“I get to come up with all new ways to annoy her.”

“Like what?”

“Making me pick up more fruit snacks at the store because he couldn’t eat the food we had here for some reason.” I interjected, smirking slightly.

“That isn’t food.” Clay said.

“See! I told you.”

“Yes honey.” Monty muttered, patting me on the head. I turned and pouted at him. He raised his brow challengingly and I could feel my pupils begin to dilate slightly. Justin cleared his throat quietly and when I turned back to the table, thankfully it didn’t seem as though anyone else noticed our exchange. How am I going to make it until he gets cleared for sex when he looks at me like that? Why was I so worried about him? I’m the one who is struggling.

“Oh and Zach?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t have the silver spoon shoved in your mouth as soon as you were born.”

“What’s that supposed to mean Addy?”

“It means you don’t get to comment on the fact that my parents let us live here for free. Your first car was a freaking brand new Audi.”

He shrugged, almost admitting I was right. There was a somewhat awkward silence while we ate, which I wasn’t sure was good or bad. On the one hand, no talking while eating mean’s the food is good. On the other hand, it’s dinner with my friends and my husband. Alex broke the silence, asking, “how did her parents react to her bringing you home? No offence but you’re… you. And she’s… her. Or more specifically, Mr. Hawthorne is him.”

“Better than I expected and definitely better than Addison expected. She sat in the car for close to fifteen minutes, just staring at the house.”

“He wasn’t a total dick to you?” Alex’s brow raised.

“Not really. Asked me a couple of questions and that was it. It struck me as kind of odd, but I wasn’t going to say anything. I thought he would be more interested since I was dating his daughter and like you said, I’m probably not what he expected.”

“You mean, you didn’t say anything yet.” Justin added, pointing his empty fork.

“Right. But that isn’t a talk for today. That will require more time and possibly popcorn.”

“Popcorn? Couldn’t have been that exciting.” Zach said.

“It was. Also, can it Dempsey. I didn’t suggest this so you could be an ass all night.” Justin told him. “I’ve had far more experience with her dad than any of you. He knows what he’s talking about.”

“Okay, sorry.” Zach raised his hands in surrender.

With that sorted for now, the rest of dinner was mostly quiet. It was still awkward and there was some stilted small talk, but I think I had begun the process of humanizing Monty to my people. Hopefully in the future, they could all become something akin to friends. Or maybe polite acquaintances. “Do you want us to stay and help clean up?” Clay asked, after a not so discreet elbow in the ribs from Justin.

“No, it’s okay. Thank you for the offer though.” I told him as we ushered my friends to the door. Monty stood behind me with his hand on the door, ready to close it the second they left.

“Dinner was good by the way.” Zach told me.

“Thank you, Zach.” I nodded. Everyone needs to leave. Get out. I want to be alone with my husband. I smiled politely and Justin seemed to realize what I was doing.

“This was fun. See you Monday guys. Tell Margot I said happy birthday tomorrow Addy.” He gave me a quick hug.

“It was and I will.” They left moments later and Monty closed the door firmly.

“Fun? He called that fun?”

“I guess so. I mean, it went better than I expected.” I shrugged, walking back to the kitchen to put the dishes in the dishwasher.

“I expected to kick them all out before we sat down. I would most definitely not call it fun though.”

“Go sit. I’ll have a bag of ice for you in a minute.” I ordered, pointing

towards the couch. He sighed and I heard him limp over and sit.

After the dishes were loaded and leftovers were put in the fridge, I went to

change into some fuzzy pj pants so I could be comfortable while I started

getting the beef ready for tomorrow. I grabbed the fillet out of the fridge and

got the plastic wrap out to wrap it tightly. Dinner prep was done for the

night moments later and I was able to go sit with Monty on the couch for a

while.

27 notes · View notes

coyotesongwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Home - Ch. 5

Chapter 5 - Ghosts

Chapter Summary: When a blast from the past walks in years later, what hapepns next?

Word Count: 3135

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading this story and I hope you enjoy it. I’ve tried a new writing style for this fic and I can definitely say it’s not my cup of tea but I love the story anyways!

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters so don’t sue me please. I just really like them haha

Previous Chapter Series Masterlist

You drove North. When you were making the plans to leave, you knew there were only two places for you to go - the North, or down to the South. You’d always complained about the cold of winter, so the team would surely expect you to go to the southern states, somewhere winter wouldn’t bug you. When you reached Vegas, you sold your car and bought a new one at a different dealership under your new name to hide your tracks.

You spent all day in the car, stopping every time the twins cried and spending the night in roadside motels. With all of the stops, it took you four days of driving to reach Montana. Your plan was to go up to Eureka, Montana and make a life for you there. With just over 1000 occupants, the town was small enough that you could get to know everyone but large enough to hide you in events.

You were almost there, 20 minutes outside of Eureka in a town called Trego when you passed a small run-down diner off the side of the road with a ‘For Sale’ sign out front. The old light blue paint was peeling, the signs outdated and the lights had long ago burned out. But something about it, some part of it called to you. You unloaded the babies, dropping the windows in the car and leaving Rex inside as you headed inside the diner.

Inside the vinyl on the benches had become cracked, the linoleum chipped. But there was something about it. From the moment you walked inside, it felt comfortable. Walking through those front doors felt like home, and you knew you’d found where you were meant to be.

Within a month, you’d bought the diner from the old owner, as well as a beautiful log cabin on the edge of Dickey Lake. The locals had been very displeased when you immediately shut the diner down, but when you’d hired some handymen to help renovate it, their attitude turned around.

With a new paint job and reupholstered booths, it wasn’t long before the diner was ready to re-open. You changed the name to Rebecca’s and a month after buying it, you re-opened. It quickly became a beloved spot in town. People passing through on Highway 93 began to pour in, and business was soon booming.

People questioned why you had named it Rebecca’s at first, while they liked the new name, there was something about losing a name they’d loved. You’d explained a few times that it was the name of your dead sister-in-law, and word seemed to spread quickly. The new name quickly caught on, and it wasn’t long before you’d hear people downtown talking about going to Becca’s for dinner.

Raising the twins was hard, as you’d known it would be. There were many sleepless nights, nights where they’d take turns crying and waking you up and you’d find yourself crying yourself to sleep, exhaustion breaking you down. You’d quickly made friends in town though, and on your worst days, one of the locals would stop by and stay for a few hours so you could take a nap.

When you’d first arrived, there had been some questions about the boy’s dad. You’d taken to wearing Bucky’s ring, trying not to wonder how he’d have reacted when he saw you wearing it. As far as the town was concerned, your husband James had passed away in a mining accident, and with no family, you’d decided to try your luck somewhere new. No one questioned it.

The first year was the hardest. You missed the Avengers. You missed getting to text them, getting to tell them the boy’s first words, getting to send them pictures, and share your life with them. Every day, you wondered if you’d gone too far if maybe you should reach out to them, let them know you were okay, you were safe. Until one day, when the news reports featured a war in Upstate New York, the complex took heavy damages. Luckily, there were no casualties but you couldn’t help but think how much easier it would be to hurt you and the boys alone in remote Montana. As time ticked by, you slowly thought about calling them less and less, every day adjusting to the new normal.

Rex was happy in his new life too. He loved exploring the woods at your home and watching as the boys learned to walk. Whenever you were outside with the boys, Rex never took his eyes off of them, always keeping a close eye for danger. On the days you went in to work at the diner, Rex would tag along with you. No one seemed to mind as he came and went, approaching people for a quick scratch before laying back down behind the counter. You’d even set up a small place under the counter for him to sleep but keep him out of the way.

As the boys got older, you started bringing them with you to the diner to work instead of leaving them with a babysitter. You set up a playpen in a back corner near the counter and you’d keep an eye on them while you worked. The boys learned to walk in the diner, toddling along the linoleum floor in between customers.

You slowly became a beloved family member of the town. You were invited to birthday parties, holidays, everything. The guys looked after you like their own baby sister, and the girls made sure you never felt alone. Of course, there were some old busybodies always starting trouble, spreading rumors about the new girl from out of town but no one paid them any mind.

Over the years, life moved on and you did too. You missed Bucky, of course, you did, but in the end, you were happy there in your new home. When you’d see the Avengers come on tv, it felt like that life belonged to a different person, and in a way it did. You were no longer that person you’d been. You no longer killed, no longer woke up each day not sure if it would be your last, and that feeling… was intoxicating. You still trained daily, in the early morning hours before the boys were awake, just in case anything ever happened, but it was different now. It was more of an exercise, as opposed to being prepared for the almost daily life or death battle.

The boys may have been identical physically, but personality-wise they couldn’t have been more different. James was a shy child, always hanging on to you as you worked, hiding his face behind your leg when someone tried to talk to him. George on the other hand? He was so outgoing it scared you, he’d run up to anyone and start babbling away, he had no fear of new people.

What threw most people though, was the fact that James may have been the quiet one, but he was the trouble maker. Your favorite story to tell people about him was the time he decided he wanted a cookie after you’d told him no, so he’d dragged a chair over to the counter, climbed up, then onto the counter and was halfway onto the fridge before you realized what he was doing. George was just sitting at the bottom, watching cautiously.

Your favorite story to tell about George was the time he managed to get into the giant tub of coconut oil. You’d bought a 5-gallon bucket on Amazon once, instead of the small tub you’d intended to, and it had been sitting in your pantry ever since. You’d been on the phone with the neighbor while you cooked dinner, and when you turned around there he was, covered head to toe in coconut oil and you couldn’t help but laugh. He’d pouted at you for laughing at him, and you’d scooped up your oily little boy, kissed him on the forehead, and immediately went off for a bath. He smelled like coconut oil for a week after that.

When the boys turned four, you signed them up for swimming lessons. James took to it like a duck to water, and you had a hard time keeping him out of the water the following summer. George wasn’t a big fan of all the rules, but what he did enjoy was splashing everyone - particularly James.

You cried the day the boys went to kindergarten for the first time. Their teacher, Miss Jay, was a frequent customer at the diner and the boys couldn’t wait to spend the day with her so when you dropped them off, they ran into her room with just a wave goodbye. You’d gone back to your car and sobbed for thirty minutes. On days like that, the ghost of Bucky sat heavy, and the guilt you’d long ago accepted came flooding back. It was hard, but you made it through. And when the boys came home that day telling you so excitedly about their amazing day, you smiled and laughed along with them.

Teaching them to ride a bike had been a disaster. You’d brought the bikes home and spent all morning putting them together. The only problem was, James’ bike was missing a piece. And it wouldn’t be in for two weeks. The boys hadn’t wanted to wait any longer and had convinced you they could just share until then. Which seemed like a great plan until James was ready to ride without the training wheels and George was not. For the next two weeks, it felt like you were constantly putting on and taking off the training wheels.

For their sixth birthday, you took them on a trip to California. Rex wasn’t happy to be left behind in Montana, but you guys were flying and you didn’t feel right putting him on a plane. The first thing you did when you got there was take the boys to Disneyland. George fell in love with Cinderella from the get-go and had stood back watching her for the longest time before she saw him and posed with him for a picture. James was infatuated with Peter Pan, and you’d spent all day trying to figure out where he would be. You’d almost given up hope when a cast member saw how upset he was and managed to arrange a special meeting. For the rest of the trip, the boys just kept talking about how amazing it was.

You’d taken them to the beach for the first time too. You’d spent weeks before the trip teaching them all about the dangers of the ocean waves and currents, and so when you told them they could only go in the water when holding your hand they didn’t fight you. After that, you took them to the Aquarium of the Pacific, where they got to pet the stingrays and jellyfish and got to feed the colorful birds.

After you got home from the trip with the boys, you soon learned that the Avengers had been in that same part of California as you had. The fear rose in your chest, and for weeks you worried they’d found you, that they’d show up and you’d have to leave again. How could you raise the boys on the run? Forcing them to leave behind the only home they’d ever known because you worried someone bad would find you. As weeks passed with no unexpected visitors, you merely chalked it up to an unlucky moment and decided to be more careful on vacations in the future.

Through the years you’d become close to your neighbor down the road. Ty owned the mechanic shop right next door to the diner, and whenever something broke that you couldn’t fix he was your first call. He’d lost his wife to cancer two years after you moved in, and the two of you had bonded over the loss of your loved ones. It seemed like everyone in town had a bet on when the two of you would start dating, but you both knew that would never happen. It probably didn’t help that you both loved Criminal Minds so he’d taken to calling you a variety of fun pet names every time. You loved each other like siblings, and he was more than happy to step in and fill the role of father figure for the boys. Of course, they knew he wasn’t their dad but it was nice to have a positive male role model for them. Part of you wondered what things would have been like if you’d let Steve, Sam and Tony be in their lives, but that only lasted until news of another Avengers related disaster hit the news.

Ty’s mother, Kay, soon became Grandma Kay to you and the boys. Since Ty and his wife never had children of their own, she was more than happy to welcome your family in as her grandchildren. You never felt unwelcome or out of place in her house, and growing up the boys loved getting to go spend the night at Grandma Kay’s, or “Gamma Kay’s” house as they’d say when they were younger. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you had a real family and you couldn’t have been more grateful to them for welcoming you in without a second thought.

On April 28th every year, Ty would take the boys for the day. He’d take them to the movies and ice cream, and out on adventures so you could have the day to yourself. That evening, they’d always spend the night at Grandma Kay’s. And every year, you’d spend the day crying in bed. While the rest of the year you managed to get by with just a few shed tears here and there, the anniversary of Bucky’s death hit you just as hard every year. Long ago you’d learned to accept that the past couldn’t be changed. You couldn’t go back and save him, the only thing you could do was let go of the guilt and the blame.

When the boys were old enough, they joined the local cub scouts group. The night of their first-ever camping trip you stayed up all night and didn’t sleep a wink. You’d never spent a night away from them before, and you kept waiting for a phone call. It wasn’t until dawn that you nodded off on the couch, phone clutched in your hand, and Rex curled up at your feet. The boys were so excited when they got home they wouldn’t stop talking about how much fun it had been for almost a week, and you had to promise to go camping with them as soon as you could.

It was a slow Wednesday afternoon in the diner, the lunch rush had already passed but the dinner crowd hadn’t come yet. You were just hanging out with the server and chef on duty, talking about your plans for the upcoming weekend when a news bulletin caught your attention. There’d been another attack on the Avengers complex in upstate New York, and this time it was a bad one. Most of the buildings had been completely destroyed, and no one knew if there had been any casualties.

Your employees couldn’t figure out why you looked at the tv like your world had just come crashing down around you as you waited for any news. Eventually, they’d called Ty and he’d taken you back to your home. You didn’t explain, and he didn’t ask questions. Your eyes were glued to the television for the rest of the day. Ty took the kids for the day, and you could never thank him quite enough for that. Rex and you watched the reports, hands shaking until you saw your team give a press conference reassuring everyone they were okay.

For their seventh birthday, James asked for a skateboard and George asked for a pony. You couldn’t say no to them, not on something like this, but you weren’t quite sure you guys were prepared for the life of pony ownership, so instead you signed George up for lessons at the local stable.

George took to riding like a natural, and the smile that lit up his face the first time he mounted up brought a tear to your eye. Within six months you’d bought him a sweet old school horse, a horse who had seen and done it all and was perfect for him to learn on. George named him after his favorite Avenger - Falcon. You cried that night, wanting nothing more than to just call and catch up with Sam and Nat, but you didn’t.

James was a nightmare with the skateboard and within a week he’d started building ramps out of spare wood he earned helping out at the hardware store in town. Ty helped him build the ramps, and you watched nervously as he became more and more of a daredevil. When he fell and broke his arm, Ty cried and blamed himself. You’d merely sighed and told him James would have found a way to do it anyways, if anything Ty had made sure it was only a broken arm.

The years slowly ticked by and before you knew it, it had been eight years since you’d last spoken to any of the Avengers, almost nine years since you lost Bucky. Life was good, and your biggest worry was Rex getting up there in years. The vet said he was almost 10 now, and you could see it in the graying of his muzzle. He wasn’t quick to greet every visitor to the diner anymore, happy to just sit and watch the people as they went about their lives.

You didn’t hear the chime of the diner door opening, too busy chatting with Ty at the far end of the counter as you poured him a cup of coffee. It wasn’t until Rex let out one loud bark that you turned around to see what was up. In all the years you’d been running the diner, he’d never once done that so when you noticed the stranger standing at the diner entrance you watched cautiously as they removed their baseball cap and looked up at you.

The carafe slid from your grasp, shattering on the linoleum at your feet. Your hands flew up to cover your mouth and you froze, your eyes locked on the familiar figure in front of you. Your eyes knew what they were seeing, but your brain couldn’t process it, couldn’t believe what it was seeing.

You felt a warm hand settle on your shoulder and Ty’s voice seemed to echo through the now silent diner, “You okay, baby girl?”

The familiar man in front of you glanced at the ring on your finger, then Ty’s hand on your shoulder, and shoved his baseball cap back on his head, leaving just as quickly as he had arrived.

You stood there frozen for a long time, before breaking out of the trance and racing out the door after him. He was long gone, no trace he was ever there and if it wasn’t for Ty and Rex’s reactions, you’d have thought he was a hallucination. Ty followed you outside, but you weren’t listening to anything he said, could barely hear the questions that poured from him.

You bit back a sob, one name slipping through your lips as tears began to track down your cheeks, “Bucky….”

~~~~~

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nelllraiser · 4 years ago

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fish bites | grace & nell

TIMING: during the fog fish potw, before the morgue scream. LOCATION: the woods. PARTIES: @silveraccent & @nelllraiser SUMMARY: nell and grace decide to take a walk, and run into some foggy-fish- and even though they may be misunderstood, they decide to take the L and leave.

What had started as a truth serum mishap seemed to, thankfully, be turning into a budding friendship. With things seemingly and momentarily slowing down for Nell, it meant that now she could take the time to actually enjoy friends rather than simply worry about their lives and her own being in near constant danger. Of course...that was still something she worried about, and often still had nightmares of, but if the danger kept itself to her dreams and out of the real world it meant she could do things like go on harmless hikes with Grace. As the pair walked through the dense forest of the Outskirts, Nell trudged along confidently, rather familiar with the woods as they’d frequently been her hunting grounds when it came to bringing in monsters for the Ring. “So how’s everything been with adjusting to White Crest? Hopefully no one accidentally slipped you some truth serum or anything equally ridiculous.” The words were an obvious and light jab at herself.

A few months ago, Grace wouldn’t have been able to imagine being friends with somebody who accidentally dosed her food with truth serum. Now, she thought it was fitting to the way that the little town had welcomed her. She and Nell, and even Blanche, were growing to be quick friends. She was grateful, if not slightly wary. Not due to the situations that they had found themselves in revolving around one another, but due to her inability to let go of the fact that one day, her friends might not be around any longer. Still, she pushed through it, thus finding herself on a hike with Nell in the woods she hadn’t trapeized through yet. “It’s taking some time,” Grace admitted to her as she stepped over a fallen branch on the pathway. She looked over at Nell with a smile, “there have been a few things to top that, don’t worry.” She wasn’t lying, either. Between the reanimated corpses, the airplanes, seeing Renee. Her stomach churned. “I wouldn’t worry about me,” Grace said as she stabilized herself on a neighboring tree. “It brought us here, didn’t it?” She asked with a tilt of her head.

Nell’s childhood had been spent among these pines, running along with her sisters until the sun began to set, and Bea would round them up to get back to the East End in time for dinner. Being famous Vegas magicians on par with David Blaine had left the Vurals quite well off, and though Harris Island had the most extravagant houses— Nisa and Demir had wanted a place where it was easier for three growing girls to stretch their wings and breathe. Considering that yards were rare on the island, the East End had been the obvious answer. So the forest was something of a sanctuary, a place that could be rife with danger, but also comfortingly hidden away. “That’s fair,” Nell commented. “There’s a lot to get used to in White Crest. What do you mean a few things to top it, though?” Had trouble been finding Grace? “Well you can’t tell me not to worry about you after you just said that,” she finished with a brief chuckle. “But it’s true. I guess we have truth serum to thank.”

Despite its miseries, White Crest had brought things to Grace’s surface. She had begun to think about things more clearly, and though she had originally taken refuge in a new town for the sake of wanting quiet, it was anything but. She could blame herself, sure, but she had the means to leave, to disappear into the night. Did she want to, though? Maybe whatever White Crest had to offer was a little more interesting than Grace had originally thought. She was curious, that was for certain. Maybe a little naive, too, but Renee’s words in her head, just live! Just live, Grace! It was what kept her moving forward. Grace gave Nell a sideways smile and shrugged, “I mean, you live here too, I’m sure you can imagine.” Truthfully, whatever it was that she had gone through, she couldn’t imagine it to be too wild, what with the stories she had heard. “Do you know Connor?” Grace asked as she stepped over another wayward branch, “I ran into him after-- well, after I saw my old friend, the one I mentioned.” Grace wasn’t sure if she trusted Nell because of their first meeting, or because she felt nothing ominous from her. “We saw some stuff, it was…” Grace shrugged, “it’s definitely an eye opener, I can tell you that much.” Grace carded her fingers through her hair as they came to a smaller trail that looked like it led off of the main path. “Do you want to go that way?” Grace asked, curious.

At the mention of Connor, Nell tilted her head to the side in vague acknowledgement, not entirely sure if her one meeting with the exorcist counted as knowing him. “Yeah, I know him,” was what she settled on. Unconsciously, Nell slowed her walking, realizing the conversation might be about to take a rather serious turn. “Your friend…” she began tentatively. The one who had died? “The girl you mentioned when we were under the truth serum, right?” There was no need to rake over old wounds. “You saw her as a ghost?” There was no delicate way to put it, not with the world they lived in. Maybe it was best to say it outright and quickly, to rip the bandaid soundly off in one go. “Are you alright?” she asked as her follow up question, though she had a suspicion that the answer was no, regardless of what Grace might say. How would seeing your dead friend fall into the category of alright? Nell followed Grace’s question with her eyes, looking the trail over. It was one of the more secluded routes. Maybe the bigger and thicker trees would help Grace feel a little more sheltered. “Yeah, for sure.” It didn’t take long for things to change the further along the path the got, a thick fog quickly settling around them. Fog wasn’t an strange oddity in White Crest, but for it to have come on this quickly was possible cause for questioning. “Fog doesn’t usually come on that quick here…” Nell mused aloud, a frown tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Yeah, her.” Grace smoothed her fingers through her hair. She didn’t open up easily, and the majority of that had to do with her ability to figure out others’ emotions at the drop of a hat. It felt like cheating. She could see inside of them, but they couldn’t see into her. The truth serum had certainly helped pass that roadblock, and Grace couldn’t be sure if she was embarrassed or grateful for it. “Yeah, it was…” Grace forced out a laugh, “usually I’m all for a good scare, but--” She shrugged and cleared her throat. It suddenly felt thick. “I’m fine, but, you know it’s weird… she looked the same way when I identified her--” Grace’s sentence broke away as they stepped into thick fog. It pooled towards them quickly. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked around. It was thick enough that if she weren’t standing directly next to Nell, she’d lose her line of sight. Grace tugged at the straps of her backpack nervously, tightening it against her. “Does this always happen?” Grace asked as she moved slightly closer to Nell. Just in case, she thought.

As Grace spoke, Nell’s brows drew together in the beginnings of concern, the emotion flickering alive inside her as it woke, sensing that there was a friend in need. “I mean good scares are fun. It’s just a little different when it’s someone you know.” She hadn’t seen Bea’s ghost when she’d been dead, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. However, she’d seen it all when Evan had formed along with the cursed coins all those months ago. Nell knew firsthand that seeing that was the opposite of fine. “They do that. Ghosts. Appear as they did when they died. I’m sorry you had to see it, though. Both when you identified her and when you saw her as the ghost again.” Nell’s selfish curiosity wanted to ask what it was that had happened, but managed to bite her tongue this time around. But the fog was growing far too thick to be anything normal, and a frown was quick to form on Nell’s lips, her not liking this in the least. She could barely see her hand in front of her face, and being blind to her surroundings did nothing for the seemingly ever-present paranoia that someone was out there...waiting to attack...just like Montgomery had. “No. It doesn’t.” As Grace shuffled closed, Nell reached down to grasp the empath’s hand in her own, both for comfort and practicality. As Nell squinted into the fog, she finally spotted them— a set of fins forming from seemingly nothing as a fish’s face greeted them no more than a foot away. “Oh shit, it’s one of those fucking foggy fish or whatever.

Grace hadn’t told anyone about Renee, nobody but Connor. For Nell to know, too-- albeit originally, without prompting due to the truth serum, Grace had become afraid. She had become afraid to form friendships, or any connection for that matter. She had come to White Crest with the intent of silence, of solitude. The life she had thought out for herself, however, was turning into something entirely different than what she had pictured. “It wasn’t really--” Grace looked up to the canopy of trees, she let Nell take a hold of her hand. She squeezed it tightly as she looked at the fish that began to surround them. “I haven’t actually,” Grace gasped out, “I haven’t seen any of them, I’ve heard of them, but--” Grace stared at the fish, eyes wide as it began to float closer to them. “What do we do?” She asked Nell as she gave her a quick glance.

Nell wasn’t sure how to approach the fog fish, electing to stay where she was and not make any sudden movements. For the most part, they seemed docile. “I…” It was rare that she wasn’t sure how to proceed with the supernatural, but this wasn’t something she’d seen in her entire life. “I don’t think it’s...aggressive.” As if in answer, one of the fish swam closer to nudge the pair of them gently with its nose, almost seeming curious. Nell tensed when it did, still not trusting the foggy fish as magic began to instinctively pool and gather in her stomach. “I don’t know what it wants?” Another of its fish friends came up to prod Grace with its strange nose. “If we just stay here, and stay still— maybe it’ll just go away?”

“You don’t think?” Grace asked, tone maybe a little too accusative. She cleared her throat. “Sorry, I’m just-- This isn’t normal.” She whispered. Grace winced as the fish floated closer to them, its mouth and what she figured was its nose coming to touch against their forearms. “If we just stay here?” She asked uneasily. She watched the fish as it watched them warily, its eyes blinking slowly-- or did it even have eyelids? She couldn’t tell. Grace bit the inside of her cheek as she cast a glance Nell’s way. “You’re way too calm for this, does this happen to you a lot?” She asked.

“I mean I don’t know for sure,” Nell replied, just the smallest bit defensive. “No, it’s fine.” She couldn’t expect Grace to take every weird thing White Crest threw at her in stride. That would be vastly unfair. “It’s not normal. Even by White Crest standards.” Of course White Crest had seemed particularly active ever since she’d returned. “We could try and leave if you want?” Something about the fish was almost hypnotizing, making Nell want to stay and learn more about them. “I mean- this specifically doesn’t happen to me. But a lot of weird shit...does. I also sort of sought it out for five years before I came home.” Somewhere in the distance, another fish formed, though this one looked a little different. Sharper and leaner.

“Good to know,” Grace shot back, a nervous smile pulling at the corners of her lips-- an involuntary reaction to the situation before them. She looked at the fish and did her best to avoid its eyes, as she was unsure of where to look. It looked sort of like the fish in her bowl at home, but with two eyes instead of one. “Do you think we can?” Grace asked under her breath, tugging the other girl alongside her, “they’re everywhere, aren’t they?” She had gone on the walk with Nell with no other intention other than stress relief, but it didn’t seem as though the Fog Fish were going to allow that, not now, at least. She blinked at them, disbelief settling on her features when another two fish formed behind the newest. “Maybe we should go?” Grace asked, a little more urgent as she pulled Nell backwards, down the path that the two had made their ways up.

“Unclear,” Nell replied on the subject of whether or not the fish would allow them to pass. “I guess there’s only one way to find out, though,” she said as she too took a step back up the path they’d come. For a moment she hesitated, curiosity momentarily getting the better of her as the cloudy fish continued to sail the gentle breeze of the forest. The way they moved was nearly mesmerizing, and Nell wanted to know just what it was they were. The fish began to part, the fog once again gathering thickly around their pod as another fish began to form. This one was sharper, leaner, and apparently meaner as it moved aggressively towards the pair of girls, a overbite of sharp teeth somehow glinting in the lowlight. “Okay- definitely time to go!” Nell grabbed onto Grace’s hand once again in an effort to tug her along the trail, steps quickening into a run as the enormous barracuda gave chase. Standing to fight was Nell’s general instinct when it came to hostile parties, but it was glaringly apparent that fighting fog wasn’t going to be all the fruitful.

Grace arched a brow, “you’re not going to go pet it, are you?” She wouldn’t put it past Nell to do so, and then again, maybe Grace would too, but these were floating fish in the air surrounding them, fog following their tails. Grace’s attention was diverted to the mass of fog that hovered over the hoard of fish, and only when she saw the fish with the overbite head their way did Grace hear the fear in Nell’s voice. Finally, she thought. Grace let Nell guide her down the pathway from where they had come. “Do you think it can actually hurt us?” Grace yelled out as they ran, tossing a cautionary glance over her shoulder as they avoided branches and low hanging limbs from trees. The last thing she wanted to do was be eaten by a fog fish. Grace rarely ran, and her breath was already running ragged. “I don’t want to get eaten,” She whined out as they ran. The clearing was just ahead-- they hadn’t gotten very far, lucky enough for them. As soon as they broke from the fog of the woods, the sun kissed the crowns of their heads and Grace twisted around to look at the fog as it began to dissipate. “So it was just territorial. Cool.”

The fish was hot on their trail as the gled through the forest, and Nell swore she could feel some sort of ghoul-ish breeze pass over the nape of her neck when it gnashed its teeth together a little too close for comfort. But as the crisp sun beat down on their skin, Nell turned to see that Grace had been correct. The fish was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “What the hell?” Nell asked no one in particular. It wasn’t all that often she came across a creature she couldn’t even begin to identify, but this was definitely something new for the catalogue. “Maybe it can’t leave the fog?” she pondered aloud. “Since it’s made up of it?” Either way, it was probably for the best that the thing was gone— even if she was a little too curious about the foggy fish. Turning back to Grace, she gave the girl a once over in an attempt to make sure her friend had escaped unscathed. Once she was satisfied with that she simply said, “Do you think it would make good fish sticks?”

“I don’t know,” Grace whispered, her heart thudding. She glanced towards Nell, “maybe?” She squinted into the fog, barely able to make out any other floating figures past them. “That’s…” Grace tugged on Nell’s hand, “we should go before we figure out if it can, right?” She let out a nervous laugh as she tried to guide Nell back towards where they had come from. “Fish sticks? I mean, probably not. I don’t think it has any substance.” Grace ran a shaky hand through her hair as she stepped over another fallen branch. She hadn’t expected today to turn into running away from a fog fish, or a few, but anything was possible in White Crest, she was seeming to notice. Grace took a deep breath, “at least we didn’t get hurt.” Grace laughed uneasily, finally letting go of Nell’s hand as they broke through the brush, back towards the open space.

Despite Nell’s curiosity about the fish, she followed after Grace. Had she been along, she might have ventured back to explore further, but she wasn’t willing to potentially risk her friend’s safety. Of course...she could always come back later. “That’s what tartar sauce is for, then,” she quipped back playfully. “Of course we’d need a big container of it. Maybe just fill a pool and dunk the whole fish in.” Once they were out of the woods, Nell continued down the path towards town. “You know...I think I just made myself hungry.” And even if she wasn’t, Nell was always down for a good meal. “Let’s swing by Al’s and see if fish is on the menu today,” she laughed with Grace, apparently already recovered from their near brush with the strange creature. No doubt Grace would develop the skill as well once White Crest really got its hands on her. People always adjusted to the town one way or another.

#wickedswriting #ch:grace #fish bites #chatzy

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