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sierraraeck · 4 years ago

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The Jailbird and the Mouse

Spencer x Fem!OC (Aundreya)

Masterlist

Summary: When Aundreya shows up to consult on a case, Spencer seems less than pleased to see her, but his actions tell a different story. Bonus chapter!

Category: Smut. Hate fuck. Apparently I’m incapable of writing a single thing without some angst, so we’ve got a sprinkle of that in there at the end, too.

Warnings: Cussing. Choking. Nicknames. Degradation. Cuffs are used. Unprotected penetration, female masturbating, oral (male receiving), fingering. Semi-public at the beginning.

Word Count: 8.5k

A/N: Okay so this is supposed to take place during How to Lose Friends when they are both in their fresh, post-prison forms and are beyond pissed at each other, but you don't have to have read that chapter or the series to understand this. Also, shoutout to @writing-in-april for looking this piece over and helping me make some edits!

Things to Know: All you really have to know is that Aundreya was a criminal who’d already been to and broken out of prison, joined the BAU, Spencer and her had a previous relationship, Aundreya got Spencer sent to prison, broke him out, then took the fall for something Spencer was being accused of that she didn’t do, getting herself sent to prison again.

I’d been called back to help the BAU solve a case. Fascinating how when it was convenient for them, I held some value. But, after that I was just easy to throw in a jail cell to be forgotten about.

I didn’t want to be there, but unfortunately I didn’t have a choice. So, I closed my eyes, and took a long, deep breath before forcing the door open. I had barely entered the room, barely had made eye contact with Hotch standing opposite me, before both my shoulder blades were shoved against the wall behind me, with long fingers wrapping around my throat.

“What is she doing here?” the hiss in Reid’s voice sounded exactly how I’d imagined it in my head preparing for this encounter. He looked almost as bad as me. His curls were going in a million directions, and I could only imagine the amount of times he’d run his hands through them, probably due to stress. His eyes were blood-shot, slightly puffy, and the dark bags underneath seemed more defined. The only thing that contrasted all of that, and let me know his head was still in it, was the darkness he now held in his eyes. There was nothing lighthearted or soft about them anymore, at least, not for the moment and certainly not for me. Plus, there was a red-hot rage I could see boiling at the surface. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror, a warped version of myself being reflected back to me. I’d seen the same fury and darkness in my eyes every morning that was in his now, and the irritation that radiated off him matched my own. Really, the only difference between Spencer and I, was he still had his gun and badge and I didn’t.

“I was invited to help consult,” I snapped through my somewhat restricted breath. “So you better get the fuck off me.”

He gave my throat one last tight squeeze before stepping back, his intense gaze never leaving me. I met his gaze with a wicked smile while brushing my fingers over where the ghost of his hand used to be. I wanted him to see that he didn’t affect me. Angry or not, he held no power in our dynamic anymore.

“Chambers, good to see you,” Derek mocked, giving me a side eye laced with suspicion.

“Can’t say I feel the same,” I deadpanned, then turning on Hotch. “So, why am I here?”

“We have reason to believe that a rogue gang member is kidnapping and killing ex-military if they refuse to join,” Hotch explained with seemingly no emotion, as if he was unaffected by my presence.

“Cool,” I deadpanned again before asking, “So why do you need me?”

“We wanted to know if you know anything or have heard anything-” Derek started.

“Heard anything?” I cut him off with a scoff, “You mean besides the constant clanging of metal bars when I’m not left in complete silence by myself? No, I haven’t heard anything.”

“Can you find them?” Spencer asked as if it would be a difficult task for me.

“So you do want my help,” I clarified.

“I want your skills.”

I let out a disgusted chuckle in response to his quip. Venom dripped from my words as I voiced my thoughts from only moments before stepping into the room. “Oh, I get it. You only want me around when it's convenient for you. Otherwise you just wanna give up on me and let me rot in a cell.”

“What was I supposed to do!”

“What were you supposed to do?” I asked in disbelief, eyes wide. “What were you supposed to do?” I mumbled to myself again in a mocking tone, rolling my eyes. I put my hands on the back of the empty chair in front of me I assumed had held Spencer at one point, and leaned in toward him. He’d retreated behind the table since releasing me, and I quietly snarled towards him, “I don’t know, but sitting there on your tiny, plushy ass, wasn’t it. I’m leaving.”

Spencer was back over to me in a flash, slamming his hand on the door before I could even reach for the handle. Someone got better reflexes. I cocked an eyebrow at him.

“We have a suspect list that we want you to review.” Hotch caught me before I pushed Spencer out of my way.

“Fine. Make it quick.” I looked over the list Hotch gave me that contained about 30 men, none of which rang any bells. “This was a waste of time.”

“Hold on, guys,” Garcia trotted in, “I just found something.” She was in such a rush that she initially didn’t see me, bee-lining it straight for Hotch. Handing the iPad over to him, her eyes lifted to take in the rest of the room. That’s when she noticed me. Her eyes grew to the size of beach balls, and her perfectly done lips hung open. I tried not to feel too hurt, knowing that my presence would come as a shock to her, but it still stung seeing her at a loss for words, possibly even scared. She’d really been the only person who still had any hope left for me, and I was starting to wonder if that was true anymore.

My voice softened as I greeted, “Hey, Penelope.”

She struggled for words, a few ‘uhs’ and ‘ums’ headed my direction, ultimately being saved by Hotch. “Dave, you’re with me. Prentiss, Morgan, I want you to go to the ME, Garcia we’ll need you on call, and JJ, Lewis, I want you to go talk to this man.”

“What about me?” Spencer asked.

“You’re going to stay here and watch her,” Hotch commanded. I started laughing at Spencer’s visible discomfort. Spencer glared at me before opening his mouth to argue, but Hotch stopped him with a voice filled with authority, “I know you won’t be able to focus out there if you know she’s still here unattended. Let’s go.”

When everyone had left and the door shut behind them, I sang, “Well if it isn’t Doctor Reid drawing the short end of the stick, yet again.”

“Just sit down and shut up,” he tried to order with confidence as he took his own advice, sitting as far away from me as possible. Not once had he looked me in the eyes since I’d initially walked in and he had attacked me. Sure, his eyes were on me, but they never connected with mine.

“Is that a demand, doctor?” I challenged him.

“No, but it could be. I just don’t want to be the one responsible for letting you get away.” He shrugged in his chair, resting the ankle of his leg on the knee of the other.

“So you’re just gonna trust me to do what you ask?” I questioned. Throughout the entire time I’d known Spencer, he’d never gotten super riled up over something, but this was a whole different Spencer, one that I didn’t recognize or know . He was more on edge, confident, and clearly willing to wrap his hand around my throat with no hesitation. A type of Spencer I was more than happy to get to know. And let’s face it, I’d been in prison for 15 months. There wasn’t a ton of action going on in there that I wanted to get involved with. I just wanted to see how far I could push him before he snapped. “You don’t trust me, and you know you can’t. I put you in prison, just because I could,” I shrugged, contradicting what I’d insinuated earlier for my own entertainment, “and you think that I won’t just walk away from you when given the chance?”

“You’ve had the chance. For the past three minutes and forty-six seconds you could have left and you didn’t. What’s keeping you here?” he smugly fired back. Oh yeah, he’s definitely going to be fun to mess with.

“What’s keeping you here?” I copied, “Why’d Hotch bench you again? Because you can’t focus when I’m around?”

“No one can focus with you around!” he huffed hotly.

“Not well, but they certainly can do better than what you’re doing right now,” I patronized, “What is it about me that makes you all so nervous, huh? I’m just another criminal who happens to be a former co-worker. I thought you were used to working with those day in and day out.”

“Criminals or co-workers?”

“Either.”

“None of them are like you,” he bit.

“Oh I know,” I ran my tongue over my lips, “So I’ll ask again, what is it about me that makes me so different?”

He looked up at me. In contrast to the first time he locked eyes with me, his expression was stone cold. “You were a part of this team, and you betrayed us. You betrayed me. I don’t know how I could’ve been so stupid to believe you were actually helping us! I just want to know why you picked me. You were going to take one of us down, why’d you choose me?” I could see the gears spinning in his head, and was about to answer when he frustratedly added, “Was it because you thought I’m the weakest?”

That’s it. That’s what’s always made him tick. And he used the present tense. We were still an entire table length apart, so I started slowly sauntering toward him. I prodded, “Is that what you think? You believe you’re the weakest on the team? Or do you just think that’s what I thought?”

“We all have our roles,” he responded, but not nearly as confident as he had been before.

“That’s not an answer,” I pushed.

“You still haven’t answered me, either,” he growled, and I decided to let this one go. We didn’t need to fully delve into his insecurities, no matter how much I wanted to.

“It was similar to that. You were the most afraid of me, I could smell it in the air.” I closed my eyes and pretended to revel in the stench of fear. “But, I could’ve gotten any one of them if I wanted.”

Spencer scoffed at that, “I think you overestimate your abilities.”

“I don’t,” I quickly fired back, “I could’ve gotten any of them, and to be honest, I was going to go after Derek, or maybe Emily, but then you spoke up from the corner of the room and I knew it had to be you.”

“Why?”

“Why this, Aundreya, and why that, Aundreya? Is that the only question you can ask?”

“Is it the only question you can’t answer?”

I was about halfway to him now, and decided to give him a little false hope. “I picked you, not because of your intellect, or how the rest of the team coddles you, or how relationship starved you are. I picked you because I could see something in your eyes that was different, something dark. And once I heard your full back story, I realized just how similar the two of us are.”

“We are nothing alike,” he insisted.

“Really? Because had you made one different choice or one thing went just a little bit wrong, you could have ended up just like me, with no family and no one to give a shit about you or what you do, except for the cops who just wanted you locked up and controlled.” I was dangerously close to him now, his head tilted to look at me, but he didn’t cower away. He actually seemed to welcome it. Which reminded me of something, “After knowing all of that, my past and everything I was, you still agreed to let me on your team.”

“I was the last person to say yes to you joining,” he informed me. This was news to me, but I couldn’t even be sure if he was telling me the truth. “I didn’t think it was a good idea for you to be working with us, but I was outnumbered and outranked.”

“No, you caved to their wishes,” I twisted his words to suit my needs, “Like you caved to mine.” I slowly reached down to place a hand on his chest. He eyed it all the way until I made contact with him, and it was like flipping a switch. He grabbed my wrist and held it close as he pushed out of his chair, the wheels spinning it wildly back into the monitor. He reached for my other wrist, which I let him grab, and held me against the wall, arms pinned next to my head. I did everything I could to not smirk. And he’s still caving.

“I didn’t want you here. I resisted the idea of you being around us,” he spat.

“Like you’re resisting the idea of being around me right now?” I arched an eyebrow, scanning him from head to toe, and I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on a few spots. He opened his mouth to say something, but he shut it again, locking his jaw. I could see his genius mind at work, trying to come up with some way out of the little mouse trap I’d set up for him. I watched his eyes trail down to my lips and neck, soaking it all in. When his eyes met mine again, I tried to reach for him, but he forcefully slammed my hands back, pinning me to the wall again. Though, I wanted him to touch me this time. He was taking too long to make a move for my liking, so I decided if I couldn’t use my arms, I might as well use my legs.

All of his weight was already leaning toward me, so it wasn’t difficult to wrap my right leg around his waist and bring him all the way to me. The moment that they were within inches of my face, I attacked his lips. I was almost disappointed by the fact that he didn’t seem surprised at all, as if he knew how impatient I was and knew that I would force the first move. But, I wasn’t disappointed for long.

Spencer’s whole body was pressed against mine as he quickly swiped his tongue across my bottom lip, looking for entrance. I granted it, but I wasn’t going to give him the complete dominance that he wanted over the kiss. Instead, our tongues slid over each other’s searching for more than the other was willing to give. It was hot and messy, and he released his grip on my wrists, moving them to apply the same amount of force to my jaw. With my hands free, I made quick work of the buttons on his dress shirt, ripping it open. I was expecting skin and sighed when I found yet another shirt. This man and his layers.

Spencer took advantage of me sighing, giving him more access to my mouth, which I wanted to be annoyed about, but couldn’t care to be. I decided to make better use of my hands, running them down the sides of his body as he wrapped his behind my back. He pulled away from me so abruptly when I tried to massage him through his slacks, he basically dropped me on the floor. It was like being left out in a cold winter storm, just barely out of arm's reach of warmth.

Spencer shook his head, eyes on the floor, as if that would clear his mind of what clouded it, which was me. But I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “There. You got what you wanted.”

I gaped at him before retorting, “We both know it wasn’t just me who got what I wanted. I’m sure you had a hard time pulling away.”

He glared at me as he rolled the chair back toward the desk and took a seat, “Not really. I have important work to do.”

I stood there staring at him trying to compose himself. His face was red and he tugged at his pants before crossing his leg over the other. I pressed my lips together, but still failed to contain the small laugh that escaped through my nose.

“Sure,” I mocked, “Especially since everyone else on the team is already doing that work for you.” He didn’t look up from whatever papers were on the table, trying in vain to ignore me, though I wasn’t ready to have his attention off me yet.

I shut the folder that he was in the middle of reading, not like he was actually reading it considering how long it was taking him to flip the page, and sat right on top of it. He was about to reach for it again, but retracted his hand at lightning speed when my legs got in the way. I flashed another mockingly sweet smile his way, but he looked out toward the window, right next to the wall I’d just come from. I swung my legs back and forth off the side of the table just a bit, careful not to completely kick Spencer in the shin, though I couldn’t help but let my toes accidentally tap him a few times. As with all of the other times I’d touched him, he moved out of the way, uncrossing his legs with a perfect foot-sized gap in between his knees. I rested my foot in that small gap on the chair, rolling his body closer to me. Then, for no other reason than wanting to feel him squirm underneath me, I plopped down on his lap, my legs straddling his. I pretty much had him locked in his seat.

“What are you doing?” he questioned, a look of complete indifference gracing his face, but I knew it was just a front.

“Just making sure you’re doing your job,” I replied, winking at him.

“And… how do you think this is helping me do my job?”

“I’m making sure you’re paying attention to me,” I whispered in his ear seductively, lacing my fingers together on the back of his neck, “Plus, I’m doing what you asked me to. How did you put it? Sit down and shut-”

Using his thumb and forefinger, he pinched my cheeks and brought my lips to his forcefully. The kiss was just as hungry as the last, teeth clashing and tongues furiously fighting. He moved his long fingers onto my hips with a bruising grip, which I had absentmindedly started grinding against his. He pulled away from me for a moment, and his harsh tone reminded me that this was nothing like the last time we’d been together, when we’d both been a bit more innocent. “You never did have any manners at work.”

I smirked, “I know. Imagine my manners at home.”

A low, almost inaudible groan came from Spencer’s throat at my suggestion, but he tried to cover it up by moving my hair out of the way and latching his lips onto the side of my neck. I gasped at the contact of his teeth pulling at my soft flesh, paired with the feeling of his growing bulge pressed against my core. His fingers gripped my hips harder and moved them faster, drawing a small whimper from my lips. I felt him smile as he trailed kisses down my neck to my collar bone, leaving a single bite mark there. I tried so hard to contain my high-pitched moan when he moved one of his hands from my waist to pinch one of my nipples through my shirt.

But I was supposed to be the clear-headed one, so I forced myself to not get too wrapped up in the feeling. If I wanted to get to my end goal, I was going to have to leave him wanting more, which unfortunately in turn meant leaving myself in the same condition.

My hips had gotten faster along with Spencer’s hands, but when I felt him start to buck his hips up against me, I knew that he was getting close and it had to end. Immediately, I stopped my movements and untangled myself from him, but not before dragging a finger up the column of his throat, sneering, “Too bad. I could’ve helped you, had you done anything to help me.”

I left that open for interpretation, either as a jab to his masculinity or to what started my rage in the first place: being left in prison. He didn’t ask for clarification either, clearly too bothered by being left on edge. He did, however, follow up with, “Help you? Why would I want to do that? You’re a terrible person.”

I grinned as if receiving a medal of honor, “That I am, Doctor.”

I moved the lay down on the couch while Spencer attempted to refocus on his work. I made a show of sighing a couple times and rolling around ‘to find a comfortable position’ on the couch, just to piss him off. I could tell it was working based on his clenched fists turning white, and the way his leg was jumping. He was resting his head in his hand, which almost perfectly shielded my face from his.

He still wasn’t turning the page, so I offered, “Can you flip the page by yourself, or do you need some help?”

He wasn’t given the opportunity to respond, because Hotch, followed by most of the team, came barreling through the door.

“Colby Ulton, 43 years old, has a long record and wasn’t home,” JJ announced, following Hotch. It’d been a while since I had to deal with their inhuman pace when it came to talking about unsubs and profiles, so most of the stuff they said next flew over my head.

I was way behind in the conversation, but none of that mattered when Hotch turned to me, “Colby Ulton. I want you on him.” He'd barely gotten the command out before I was reaching for the door handle.

“I don’t.” The words were hot and dry and coming from none other than Doctor Reid. I rolled my eyes. He moved to step in front of the door, blocking my passage out again, leaning casually with his back against it, arms crossed. Our faces were barely centimeters apart.

“Why not?” I asked in a mock-curious voice.

“I don’t trust you. Who’s to say you won’t just run off? Then we’d let a high-profile criminal walk free. Plus, we’re not even sure he’s the right man,” Spencer pointed out. I was going to point out how I had just made that same argument about me leaving, and he refuted it himself only to bring it back up now, but I didn’t get the chance.

“He’s the best we’ve got right now,” Derek countered. I could tell he sort of just wanted me out of the room, but Spencer’s motives appeared very different.

He never took his eyes off of mine as he recited, “We think it’s a rogue gang member who’s either left or been kicked out within the past year. Ulton’s been in prison, which could mean he’s gone rogue, or it could mean he’s joined a new gang, one that, as you probably know, wouldn’t allow this type of acting out. Either way, he hasn’t demonstrated gang affiliated behavior in almost three years. Not to mention he had his tattoo removed and is out of our age range. I don’t think putting her on, most likely, the wrong man’s trail is worth the risk of letting her walk free.”

The room was silent as we all waited for someone else to make the first move. I decided to be that person. “So what do you suggest they do with me, hm?” I questioned, walking my two fingers up his chest with each word. Then I leaned in and made it very clear, “Because I am not going back to prison.”

I bit his earlobe on the way back, and I saw the way his pupils dilated just slightly at the feeling, “I’ll watch her for the night.”

“What?” Derek and I said at the same time, but our facial expressions were very different.

“Yes,” he stated, more confidently now, “She has nothing to do right now, but we might need her later in the investigation, so sending her all the way back to prison doesn’t make sense.”

“And you'll make sure she doesn’t escape?” Derek questioned.

“She hasn’t so far, has she?” Spencer challenged. When he got unnerved looks from the rest of the team, he assured, shooting a small smirk my way, “Trust me, she won’t.” How cute. He thinks he can wrap his skinny little fingers around my neck and pull a moan from me once, and all the sudden he’s in control. He switched our position, pinning me up against the door, clasping the handcuffs back around my wrists in front of me. I was starting to think he had a thing for pushing people into walls. It was his turn to whisper in my ear, “And you won't want to.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

When we arrived back at his apartment, I took a moment to survey the room. It looked almost exactly as it had the last time I’d been there. Books piled up everywhere, papers strewn all over the desk, a little dark and dusty, maybe a bit more worn, but nothing too out of the ordinary. The only difference was that it no longer suited him as well anymore. He used to be this shy, studious, loner-type that didn’t really like people, and he had a certain innocence about him. There was nothing innocent about him anymore. He didn’t seem shy either, much more confident; still studious and a loner though. However, I bet he liked having at least one person over at all times, or not being home at all. It meant that he didn’t have to be alone with his own mind, and after being in solitude myself, and knowing that he’d been in there too, that feeling of complete silence, utter aloneness, was something we’d never want to experience again. We were honestly perfect for each other in that way.

The other thing I’d noticed, based on what I'd seen of him within the last few hours and what I knew prison could do to a person, I guessed he went off of instinct rather than intelligence more than he ever had in his life.

Spencer had to take the time to shrug off his satchel and kick off his shoes, neither of which I even had. All I had was myself and what I was wearing, which wasn’t much. At least I wasn’t in an orange jumpsuit anymore.

“Wow, you’ve really renovated the place,” I snickered. Spencer didn’t say anything, just rolled his eyes and brushed past me. I forced my wrists outward a couple times, making a clanking sound with the cuffs, asking, “You gonna take these off?”

He faced me with a smirk and shook his head slightly, “Don’t think so.” Pulling out a chair at the puny kitchen table, he sat down, and I felt like we were much in the same position we’d been in at the office. I was in his home turf, if I could even call it that, but I wasn’t just going to let him be in charge.

I decided to go straight for the jugular, “Why’d you bring me home, Spence?”

“This isn’t home, not for you,” he snapped.

I scoffed, “Doesn’t look like it is for you, either, but that doesn’t change the question.”

“I told you. I didn’t want to risk you running away.”

“You didn’t want to lose me?” I inquired. He could hear the way I was rephrasing it to change the narrative, not like I was wrong, but he successfully dodged it.

“I didn’t want to lose an asset over the wrong man, tipping the right one off, and potentially risking him going underground. I’m just trying to catch an unsub,” he shrugged.

“You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?” I shook my head in amusement.

“You don’t?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“Of course I do,” I quickly answered.

“Then answer this,” Spencer squared his shoulders, now completely facing me, “Why didn’t you run the moment you got the chance?”

“I had three FBI personnel in the car with me, then a team of BAU agents surrounding me, and then was left alone in the same room as an agent who can shoot 100 on his test. I am many things, but I am not stupid nor am I suicidal.”

“How’d you know I shot 100?” Spencer followed up.

I smiled, “I know things.”

“How about all the chances you got when you were in prison? You’ve broken out plenty of times before, why not do it again?” He was leaning forward, and he seemed genuinely curious.

It was a good question, one that I actually hadn’t pre-thought the answer to. Frankly, I wasn’t expecting to even make it this far. “I was biding my time.”

“For..?”

“Leverage.” It was a simple word, but one that seemed to make a great impact. Spencer leaned back in his chair and contemplated my answer. It wasn’t a complete lie either, I just didn’t want to give away too many details.

Spencer finally whispered, “Against?”

I flashed him a wicked smile. “You.” His face contorted into something I couldn’t fully recognize, eyes narrowing. “You, Spencer. I’ve been waiting for you to make an error, a mistake. That was the one flaw in my plan, that while I picked the easiest to emotionally manipulate, I picked the hardest to mentally manipulate. And you don’t make very many mental mistakes, do you Spencer?” I asked, approaching him. I’m really hoping you’d like to cash one in right now, though. I could practically see the internal argument being fought inside Spencer’s head; one side telling him to give in, it wasn’t that bad, the other telling him to resist, that somehow, this would corrupt him further. I needed the former to win. “You wouldn’t let yourself get caught up in the moment, would you? You wouldn’t crack, take what you want, what you need, what you deserve against your better judgement. Because you’re all brain, Spencer. All brain, and no heart.”

That’s what did it.

Spencer literally swept me off my feet, tossing me onto the couch like a rag doll. His hand returned to my throat as if it belonged there, and he pushed open my legs with his knees. My hands may have been cuffed, but they could still be useful. I moved them to start unbuttoning his shirt when he swatted them away. He spat, “I’m not heartless. Not like you.”

“No,” I agreed, “You’re worse. At least I can admit to what I am. You just hide behind a badge and gun.”

Spencer shoved two fingers in my mouth, probably trying to shut me up. I smirked, running my tongue up and down the long digits, making sure to give him a preview of what was to come if he’d let it. His other hand trailed down the side of my body until it reached the waistband of the pants I was wearing. Forcefully, he yanked them down, taking my panties with them. I knew I was already pooling, but of course he had to rub it in. Snarky, he mocked, “For someone who talks a big game, you’re already looking pretty weak.”

I silently cursed my body for finding him arousing, and was about to have to come up with a clever comment when I saw Spencer pause. He was charging straight into this, and then he just stopped. I tilted my head, “Worried you don’t have it in you?”

Spencer met my eyes, and cooly stated, “I’m not going to let you be my mistake.”

Dammit. When I felt him start to pull away, I knew I had to say something to get him to stay. I needed to turn this into an advantage in his eyes, not just mine. “Why? So you can let this rage build up inside of you, eat away at your every thought, until you snap? What then? You lash out during a case, which causes someone to die, either because of your incapabilities or at your hand? And what for? Because you’re still mad at me? I’m right here in front of you, Spencer! You’re never going to get a chance like this again, so just do something!” By the end, it was a plea, and one that was brutally answered.

Spencer pushed two of his fingers inside me, already moving at a quick pace. I let out a small yelp at the sensation which clearly pleased Spencer. I attempted to refocus on unbuttoning his shirt, which became increasingly difficult because of how he was curling his fingers to hit that spot just right. I barely finished, pushing his shirt away from his shoulders when he leaned away from me, taking both of his fingers with him. I was about to complain until I saw him dropping his shirt to the ground and unbuckling his belt, pushing his own pants and underwear out of the way in a similar fashion as he’d done to mine. He pumped his fist over his shaft a couple of times before lining himself up between my wide open legs. He teased my clit with the tip of his cock, and I could feel the precum beading there. I bit my lip as I looked up at him.

Spencer’s eyes were blown when he quietly demanded, “Say it.” He wants me to beg. I was okay with him thinking he was in charge for now, so I played into it by shaking my head. He slammed my cuffed wrists against the arm of the couch just above my head, bringing his face so close I could feel his lips brush mine as he repeated, “Say it.”

It was more forceful the second time, and something about his hot breath on my face and the feeling of his hips trying, and failing, to stay still against mine pulled a whimper all too genuine from my lips, “Punish me.”

At my words, he slammed his cock in my entrance, setting a merciless pace. With no time to adjust to his length, the heat burning between my legs got fiercer. The sounds of his hips hitting mine filled the room, both of us trying to control our moans, not wanting the other to know how much we were really enjoying it. My back arched off the couch, sending my fingers over the arm, brushing over thin objects on the small table there. A pen and paper clip.

I pressed my lips together to contain the grin that just about took over my face. Looking down at Spencer, who was way too busy biting marks into my skin, I could tell he hadn’t noticed the detrimental error I’d just realized he’d made. I made quick work of unclasping the cuffs from around my wrists, but left them on loosely just for show.

The coil in my stomach was getting tighter and tighter, and while I usually would have tried to control myself, I let the moans tear through my lungs. This caught Spencer’s attention, perring up at me with a twinkle in his eyes, one that told me he thought he had me. He mouthed into my neck, “This too much for you to handle, Jailbird?”

I scoffed at his pet name. Alright Doctor Reid, you’ve had your fun. Now let me show you how to really be in charge. “Not in the slightest, Mouse,” I quipped. Before he could think, I wrapped my legs around his waist, and put my hands on the back of his head. I flipped us off the side of the couch, landing on top of Spencer. With the wind knocked out of him, I quickly grabbed his wrist, clasping one of the cuffs around it, looping the chain behind the couch leg, then synching the other around his free wrist. I placed his head on the ground and leaned back, tracing patterns on his chest.

It took him a moment to realize what had just happened, but I saw the moment the light went off. “You filthy bitch.”

I chuckled, “It seems as though that genius memory of yours forgot that I’m a criminally sound escape artist.”

He was fuming, but contained himself long enough to ask, “What changed?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Since last time? You had no problem letting me take control then.”

I simply stated with disgust, “I was soft then.”

“Who’s to say you aren’t still now?” Spencer challenged.

I laced my fingers with his as I pinned them to the ground, my turn to be the one looking down on him, faces only centimeters apart. We locked eyes as I explained, “You can see it too, I know you can. I wake up and see it in the mirror every day, and I see it in you too now. It’s in your eyes. That darkness. That feeling of destruction, of being broken, of being a monster. It’s there. I can see it like it’s my own.”

I expected him to snap at me. To argue with a clever quip. But he didn’t. Spencer leaned up as far as he could and kissed me. Not in the angry, predatory-like way that we had earlier, but really kissed me. I was so taken aback by the gesture that I practically jumped off him after a few seconds. I hated myself for letting it happen for even that long.

I stormed away from him, hissing, “Don’t try to get my sympathy now that you’re the one chained like a dirty animal. I’m not gonna fall for it.”

I saw something quick flash across his face before it hardened again. I could feel his eyes following my every move as I walked away, so I decided to make a show of it. I swished my hips back and forth, and even bent all the way over to pick up our clothes for no reason, just so he could have a perfect view between my legs. I heard the rattle of the cuffs against the couch and smirked to myself.

Tossing the clothes as far away as possible, I reached under my shirt to unclasp my bra, slipping it out one of the arm holes. I spun it around my index finger a couple of times before letting it fly off in the direction of the rest of our clothes. Toying with the hem of my shirt, I rhythmically moved it around my body so that he could only see some exposed skin at a time. I slowly pulled it higher and higher until I removed the garment completely. Standing completely bare in front of him, looking down on his naked body, I’d never felt more in control.

Spencer was drilling holes into me as I got down on my knees, crawling toward him. Again, his hands shot forward only to be stopped by the metal. I tutted, “Now, now, Mouse. That’s not how this works.”

I stroked a single finger up his length, and when it brushed over the tip, he squeezed his eyes shut. I wetted my lips as I wrapped a single hand around his cock, starting at an agonizingly slow pace, a stark contrast to the one he’d set earlier. I had barely started moving at a faster pace when Spencer started to buck his hips up into my hand. I slammed his hips back down with my other arm, giving him a cold look. His hips stilled and I knew he was getting desperate.

I flattened my palm against his lower belly, making sure he’d stay in place as I steadily picked up the pace. Spencer threw his head back when I swiped my tongue over his tip, and huffed when I retracted my hands, breaking contact all together.

I hummed, “Actually, this isn’t that interesting.” I scooted back on the floor, holding eye contact with his piercing irises as I spread my legs wide open for him to see. Neither one of us has had our release yet, so I might as well take mine and leave him high and dry.

I brushed my fingertips down my body, cupping my breasts on the way, until I reached my clit. I started to rub circles over the bundle of nerves, not realizing how close I already was. I let out exaggerated moans as I continued my ministrations, steadily pushing myself toward the edge.

“Stop.” It was barely a whisper, and I wasn’t sure if I even heard it, so I ignored it. Right as another moan ripped through my lungs, I heard Spencer say, louder and more demanding this time, “Stop.”

I was too close to stop. I barely had the mental capacity to smirk down at him before I felt my release crash over me like a tidal wave. For dramatic effect, I whined out Spencer’s name as my walls clenched around nothing, helping myself through my orgasm. Slowly coming down from my high, my head lulled back, release seeping into his rug.

Barely allowing myself to catch my breath, I leaned forward onto my knees, and looked at Spencer’s face, which was red with anger or desperation I couldn’t tell, but brought my lips down on his dick regardless. He grunted at the sensation, and I could feel the heat radiating off of him. I swirled my tongue around him until I couldn’t anymore, opting to just trace a protruding vein instead. I started to hollow out my cheeks when he bucked up into me, forcing me to take all of him in at once. He groaned when I started gagging around his length, and when I coughed after pulling off him, he had the audacity to laugh.

“Having trouble there, Jailbird?” Spencer smugly asked. I looked down at his length laying against his stomach and saw that it was a deep red, and had to have been painfully hard at that point. With that in mind, along with my recent release, I crawled over him.

I looked at him as I hovered my pussy just above his cock. “I wouldn’t be worried about me. I’d be worried about how you’re gonna take care of yourself with your hands cuffed if I decided I’m done with you.”

That threat wiped the smug look right off his face. I was already wet again, and allowed him to only barely feel what was waiting for him if he behaved, lowering myself down so his length was just brushing my lips.

His face contorted and then he said the word of my victory, “Please.”

Taking hold of his cock in one hand, I lined myself up, and slowly sunk down. He filled me up completely, a bit thicker than I remembered, and I sat comfortably in his lap. This was clearly what Spencer wanted, but there was no way in hell it was going to be that easy. I just sat there looking at him, and based on the crazed look on his face, he was expecting me to start moving immediately.

We stared each other down for a moment before his whole body jerked forward, hands yanking on the cuffs. It was my turn to laugh at his pathetic struggles, but I still didn’t have quite what I wanted yet. Raising my hips up, I quickly slammed them down, pulling the loudest groan I’d heard from Spencer. When I didn’t move again, he started squirming underneath me, and I asked, “What is it you want me to do, Mouse?”

Then he broke, his strangled pleas music to my ears, “God, fuck me, please, just fuck me!”

I grinned as I captured his lips in a vicious kiss, pulling his bottom lip between my teeth. Steadying myself with my palm on his chest, I lifted my hips up, only to let them fall back into his lap. I started slower than either of us wanted, letting myself adjust to his full size before bouncing freely on his dick. The sounds of our heavy moans filled the air, sweat collecting on our bodies.

I was honestly surprised at how long Spencer had lasted when he let out one final shriek before coming undone below me. He’d given up, completely relaxed on the floor as I started chasing my second orgasm. Spencer peered up at me through hooded eyes, and soon enough starting letting out cries, and I knew I was pushing him. I didn’t want to completely overwhelm him but I was so close…

I wouldn’t get there, not yet anyway, because Spencer did something I was not expecting. The couch hit the floor with a loud thud, giving Spencer the freedom to move his arms. He wrapped the chain of the cuffs around the back of my neck and flipped me over in one swift motion, almost identical to how I’d just done it to him.

I was completely caught off guard, and let a surprised squeak leave my lips. I was almost impressed. Almost.

As if he could see straight into my mind, Spencer remarked, “I’m a quick study.” His entire body weight was over me, and there was very little wiggle room for an escape.

I followed Spencer’s eyes as he scanned around the room, glanced at his wrists, then sighed when he spotted his pants. Must’ve been where he put the key.

I raised my pitch and snidely sang like a schoolgirl, “Whatcha gonna do Mouse? You gonna fuck me like the inmate you are, or are you gonna free yourself, hm?”

Pressing his hands down on either side of my perfectly laid out ones above my head, the chain between the cuffs digging into my forearms, he chided, “I’m sure I can handle you just fine with them on. I’m not quite done with you yet, Jailbird.”

My walls fluttered around his cock at the gravelly sound of his voice and the threat that accompanied it. It’s as if he’s chained to me. I shuddered happily at the thought.

“Is that what this is about?” Spencer hissed, clearly catching my pleased look and the way my pussy pulled him in a little more at his harsh words, “You just enjoy seeing me as some twisted killer?”

“I enjoy seeing you for who you truly are.”

I wasn’t able to form another coherent thought after that one, the pace Spencer was pounding into me like one I’d never felt. He fucked his cum from only seconds ago back into me, the wet sound of our mixing fluids filling the room. I could barely focus on where his hands had moved to, teasing my nipples, because the fire between my legs was jumping higher and higher. As it finally burned through me in the sweetest way possible, I reached to grab onto anything, the first thing my fingers found being Spencer’s hair. He growled when I tugged, but his pace never let up.

As I came down from my high, Spencer didn’t stop. The feelings were becoming too strong, too overpowering, pleasure bordering on pain. I tried to pull my hips away from his, but there was nothing I could do. To stop my squirming, he sat back slightly and pressed his large palms down on my hip bones. Moving also changed the angle he was slamming into me, now bottoming out with each thrust. I needed some reprieve.

“Spencer,” I whined, but there was a nothingness in his eyes.

His hands snaked up to my throat, applying massive pressure to my windpipe. “Is this what you wanted?” Spencer yelled, “Is this what you think I truly am?”

I was having trouble getting the air into my lungs, let alone respond. I wanted to force him to face his reality of being an ex-con, knowing how shitty it was to be on the inside and just letting me sit in there. A consequence of my own actions, but considering I was doing it to save him, I was looking for a little bit more effort on the getting out process.

But he’d left me in there. He didn’t care. He didn’t care despite the fact that he knew what I was going through, that I could tell he was still dealing with his own PTSD and not well, and that everything had changed for him. People looked at him and treated him differently. He was a different person. Corrupt. And he’d only been in there for not even three months.

I’d been in there for five times as long.

I wanted him to realize just how much damage him and his useless team were doing to me by not helping me get out. I wanted him to realize how fucked up that was, and how terrible of a person that made him. I wanted him to realize he was just as big of a monster as I was.

I accomplished that. But I underestimated how much darkness he’d really been holding back.

My head started to feel light, and I could tell I was on the brink of my third release. The sound of skin slapping skin was sinful and I couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of his tip hitting my a-spot, the way my legs were shaking around his body, the way the muscles in his back felt against my nails as I clawed them down it. My release came quicker than Spencer’s, who wasn’t too far behind me. His thrusts became shallower, as he spilled into me for the second time. It was as if all the energy had been drained out of me in an instant, along with my anger and hatred. Spencer rolled off of me, and I saw his figure weakly collapse to the ground.

It was an eerie calm, the sound of absolute nothingness, the only disturbance being our labored breathing.

I didn’t know how long it’d been when Spencer’s voice, the softest I’d heard it since the day’s start, whispered, “Are you okay?”

I glanced at him with a confused look. He let out a small sigh at my non response, collecting himself before walking over to his long forgotten pants for the cuffs key. After freeing his wrists, he walked back over to me and helped me up, ushering me to the bathroom.

I could tell he was examining me, but it wasn’t until I stood in front of the mirror that I realized why. “Look at those bruises around your neck, Jailbird. They suit you.”

The bruises were deep and already turning a nice purple. I scanned the rest of me finding more bruises on my hips, thighs, shoulders, wrists, and not to mention the bite mark on my collar. I scanned Spencer next, his only bruises coming from his wrists and the red marks I left on his back. “I wasn’t expecting that from you.”

He met my eyes in the mirror, “What were you expecting?”

I shook my head, “I don’t know.” I truly didn’t. I went into it knowing I wanted to force him to see everything he had, everything he was, but I guess I didn’t really think about what that would force me to see. My exhaustion started to give way to a heap of emotions, and a single, involuntary tear escaped my eye. Spencer brushed his fingers over my neck, simultaneously pulling my hair behind my shoulder.

He kissed the tender, bruised skin, and I remembered the times before, the times when it felt like we’d really been in love. I felt his breath on me as he mumbled, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I turned on my heels to face him, “You didn’t.”

I didn’t know what compelled him to confess what I never thought he would, but he sounded deeply ashamed when admitting, “I wanted to.”

“What stopped you?” I was genuinely curious. We’d hurt each other in the most extreme ways before today, getting the other sent to a cage in hell, betraying each other.

“I’m broken, but I’m not beyond repair, and hurting you would make me someone that I don’t want to be.”

I gave him a tired smile, and all I could muster was, “Pretty convincing.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Don’t be, you didn’t. You couldn’t,” I assured him. It was the truth.

“I should’ve,” he bit, looking down at his hands, which were so delicately holding my waist I couldn’t be sure he was even touching me.

“Why?” I questioned, the seriousness evident in my voice, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He shook his head, and a stray curl or two tickled my forehead. “I could’ve.”

“I trusted you not to.” I clasped my hands together and rested them on his back.

Spencer’s shaky voice matched his glistening eyes as they locked with mine, “I just wasn’t sure. All I know is that I scare myself sometimes.”

I pressed my forehead against his own, “Well, then I guess we’re two people who have nothing to fear other than ourselves.”

Read the full series

Taging some people:

@justanothetfangirl @kris-stuff @blameitonthenight21 @wooya1224 @unded-bride @swiftingday @dezzxmx @andiebeaword @psychicdonuts @aperrywilliams @goldentournesol @homoose

#spencer reid smut #aundreya chambers #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x oc #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #bau #hotch #morgan #garcia

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sarahjkl82-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Artistic Instinct: Chapter 6

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6200 (yup, the words ran away from me!)

Warnings: Language, mention of death.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

To an untrained eye, need and love are as easily mistaken for each other as the real master's painting and a forgery.

Deb Caletti

Chapter 6

A low lit room- more fitting of an old jail than an art lock up- surrounds you with cool air that tickles the tiny hairs on the back of your bare neck, as you bend over double, digging through the equipment in the abyss of your bag. A gap forms between the waist of your jeans and t-shirt, revealing the tiniest bit of the lace edging from your bra band- a tantalising fact that catches Marcus’ breath, alerting you to his presence, “Hey, you ok?” you ask straightening up, “Did you find something?”

“Yeah, uh sorry. Think I just had a bit of dust in my throat,” Marcus stammers, utterly thrown by that glimpse of your underwear, as he tries to clear his throat and remember the reason he was standing in front of you, “So, uh, yeah, um- we found a couple of signatures from Paul Guillaume and Albert C Barnes- weren’t they the guys we had to look out for?”

Looking over the papers with your cotton gloves still on, you pour over the shaping of the letters that made up the signatures of the possible previous owners, “I dunno. I’m not convinced- the positioning of the letters seem odd- like a crude rendition of someone’s signature. Almost like someone’s faking their mum’s signature to get out of PE class. Only the thing is, you know the movement of your mum’s hand as she signs something because you’ve watched her do it a million times before. Those signatures do not seem real to me, personally.”

Marcus’ eyebrows raise as he crosses his arms, desperately trying to hide the smile that was creeping across his face. “You faked your mom’s signature a lot?”

“Poacher turned gamekeeper,” Élodie remarks as she crosses between the two of you, straightening your t-shirt up where it has caught upon the back of your jeans.

Marcus tries not to let his disappointment show. Calm down, Pike, you’re hardly a horny seventeen year old. But that was how you made him feel and certainly the uncomfortable pressure building in his jeans might prove otherwise.

“I don’t think we will necessarily manage to get this solved today,” you begin, “The section that Élodie looked at dates it reasonably within the time period but those signatures are now tingling my spidey senses. It’s probably going to need to be sent for further investigations at a proper lab. I’m about to look at it using the stereomicroscope- do you want to have a look with me?”

Marcus nods eagerly, earning a grin from you, and you start setting up the pieces you need- ensuring that the video camera is linked to your iPad so Marcus can see everything you are looking at in real time along with you.

Marcus drifts closer to the painting. You haven’t seemed to notice his closeness yet, and he half hopes you don't, as from where he’s standing the aromatically pleasing scent of your shampoo wafts dreamily from the dark shimmer of your hair.

“So tell me more about this piece. I love listening to you speaking about art. You make it seem like I’m looking over the artist’s shoulder as they’re painting it.” Marcus remarks, smiling when he notices the flush creeping over your cheeks that his words bring.

Impressed by your decision to play into his words rather than focus on how awkward you feel at the compliment, he loves how you fan yourself and flutter your eyelashes at him, “Monsieur, you flatter me! Well, looking at this piece it’s not difficult to imagine that Soutine may have had a longstanding beef with food. Though he was fascinated by food and frequently painted these edible arrangements, this stands as one of his most memorable and dare I say, raw interpretations.”

At these terrible puns, Marcus pretends to drum, “Ba da boom tish!”

“Do not encourage her!” Jacques shouts from the other side of the room where he is labeling the bags for the slide samples that Élodie had been collecting, “Once you acknowledge one pun, she’ll ensure that everything she says has one. Queen Nush of the dad jokes!”

“So at the meat of Soutine’s obsession,” Marcus half-snorts, half-groans, intending to encourage you as you add, “You find that a combination of not having anything to eat due to extreme poverty and using what food the family did have to practice Kosher traditions is largely to blame for his playing with his food rather than eating it.”

Marcus watches you flick through your phone so as not to interrupt the finally clear feed from the stereomicroscope focussing on how you bite your lip. You quickly google the Rembrandt that you want him to look at. “The remains of this omnivorous…”

“Oh you’re still gonna continue with that theme, yeah?” Marcus’ feels his lips curve at your humour, shaking his head at the ridiculous word play.

“Oh, I can keep this going all day,” you say with the cheekiest of winks, and Marcus hopes you will.

*****

“Omnivorous obsession,” you continue, “was based on his adoration of Rembrandt whose 1655 Flayed Ox was frequently salivated over by Soutine on his regular visits to the Louvre. Rembrandt’s carcass is noted for its vivid colors but when compared to Soutine’s, which was coated almost daily with fresh buckets of blood by his assistant, Rembrandt seems downright dull. The smell of rotting beef and fresh blood became so oppressive that neighbours called the police, who almost threw away the fermenting flesh before, what I can only assume was the Frankenstein-esque assistant, shooed them away like so many flies covering a carcass.”

“Always with the focus on the graphic elements of art,” Jacques calls out with a snort at your zombie-like impression before receiving a sharp nudge to his ribs to focus on the job Élodie has asked him to complete.

“Art is just a reflection of the things that humanity finds interesting and what can be more interesting to a temporal being than their own mortality or that of the creatures and objects that surround it?” At this statement, you tug Marcus’ coat sleeve away from the piece to come and look at the feed you have set up for him, “Come on you, we’d better focus or Élodie will have my guts for garters for not concentrating on what I should be doing!”

Marcus allows you to lead him over to a black metal folding chair to look at the feed, “So what are we looking for, Mademoiselle Pathologist?”

“Hah, did you just call her mademoiselle? She’s too old for that!” Élodie shouts in your direction.

Refusing to respond verbally to Élodie’s rudeness, you flick a finger up at her and turn back to Marcus, “Madame Pathologist will do- I am comfortable with my age. So what we are looking for are any bits of difficult to detect damage, fading, repairs and the ways paints and other coatings are distributed. Also if there are any strange fibres that we can spot using the double lens.”

Hovering the microscope over the bottom left hand corner, you start to scan the piece, “So what we’re looking for are any irregularities that we might not have picked up on a first scan that Élodie did to take the samples. The stereomicroscope helps us to understand the art in more 3D terms- so we can see something that generally looks flat becomes a landscape of hills and valleys.”

“Why’ve you chosen that corner to start?” Marcus probed inquisitively, wondering as to whether there’s method in your madness.

“Just felt like it!” You shrug and snort at his look of mock horror. “Nah, it’s where the signature is and ‘cos I’m not sure about the signatures on those documents you found, I want to take a closer look at Soutine’s over here. Kinda feels like a sensible place to start.” Your eyes squint as you drink in the images in front of you, snapping up when you hear a small grunt of consternation from your boss, “Have you found something, Marcus?”

“That’s weird. It kind of looks like the signature has been scratched into the art,” Marcus squints at the signature on the screen, reaching over to the table where the possible documents with Guillaume and Barnes’ scrawls lie, “Also, I am not an expert in graphology but the letter e looks consistent across the three names- they all arch at the same point.”

“Waouh- that’s a good catch,” Élodie agrees, pulling Jacques with her to look over Marcus’ shoulder at the finds upon the feed.

Jacques escapes Élodie’s clutch and starts to flit back and forth, checking between the painting and the feed with a mild look of confusion on his face, “This is preposterous. Why have they done the signature in a different medium to the one used to paint it? It’s almost like they want to be caught.”

“It looks like it has been lacerated by a needle,” Marcus scratches at his patchy beard in astonishment, “Spot on Jacques, it’s like they can’t even be bothered to hide their tracks.”

“Ok, I think we may have found one of our fakes,” a smile slowly creeps across your face, “Obviously, we can’t be definite -there are still so many tests that need to be done but I don’t think this is an original,” you shake your head with a half smile, “Élodie, I think we need to organise for this to be couriered back to the labs.”

An excited squeal from Élodie and a soft oof from Jacques puncture the cool air as she flies into his arms, squeezing him in sheer delight. As the pair embrace with joy, you and Marcus are left there- Marcus on the fold out chair, gripping the iPad tighter than necessary- I swear that man never quite knows what do with his hands- and you sitting cross legged on the floor with the stereomicroscope lying in your lap- grinning like idiots at each other.

✪✪✪✪✪

More coffee and cakes are devoured in the aftermath whilst you await a courier to come and pick up the likely forgery- you are not entirely sure that the blood in your body hasn’t entirely transformed into sugar and caffeine at this point. After checking alongside Élodie that the painting had been carefully loaded into a van, you sit next to her on the pavement outside the auction house.

“Do you know where Marcus and Jacques are?” you question as you sink onto the dusty ground next to her.

“Yeah, they’re inside taking an informal statement from the auction house owner before the local police quiz her properly,” Élodie rests her temple to your shoulder, “Today has been wonderful. I really like Marcus - from what I have seen of him. I think this will be a good move for you.”

“I do miss having you here though. Today feels like the first time I have had both of my arms. Since you returned to London, it has felt like a part of me has been missing.”

Hauling a deep breath into your lungs to try to quell that gnawing ache in your belly, you turn to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, “I am sorry, El. To be honest, I don’t even know where to start explaining what happened or even truly understand how everything fell apart so badly.”

The mountain wind decides to blow an icy gust that cuts through your clothes to the bones of you, “It was a normal undercover job- we’d been watching the comings and goings of the gang from a inside a local greasy spoon for ages-just trying to get a clear idea of what their patterns of behaviour were and it just all went South so quickly.

“Being a tiny caff on an industrial estate by the Thames, it was open 24 hours and the day it happened, it was during the middle of a night shift when the gang decided to up the ante. They’d obviously clocked that we weren’t exactly who we said we were,” you snort softly at the memory, “I mean Jas’ accent was a bit sus for being a short order cook but still.

“The gang openly marched the illegal immigrants out of the container and made them kneel in front of the caff as a lure to us, trying to get us to drop our cover. These fucking innocents just trying to find a better life and the evil fuckers just started executing them- one after the other. Jas just ran out there straight away- dropping his cover without any proper back up, a flak jacket or anything. His stupid, kind self trying to save at least one of them without a backward glance.

“I said the code word so we could have armed back up within minutes but I knew it wouldn’t be there quickly enough,” your voice starts to falter as your throat tightens over the words.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, chouchou,” Élodie squeezes the thigh nearest to her.

“I know but I should tell someone, somewhen. You’re probably one of the few who would understand.”

You pause, squeezing your eyes tight shut as you allow that stagnant, putrid box of memories to reopen, flooding your senses with the foul gangrenous smell of the past.

Having called in backup, you make the decision to slip out of the back door of the caff and run for cover behind the large communal bins. The incessant rain was giving zero sign of stopping and the noise was deafening as it bounced off the metal sides and drummed upon the tarmacked surface. You could barely hear the desperate negotiations that Jasper was trying to make for the lives of these poor, exploited humans.

From here, hiding amongst the shadows, you could catch the eye of one of the kneeling men and signal to him as to when he should try to make a run over to you. He’d reached his little finger out to the person to his right to alert them to the plan. Achingly slowly, tiny gestures had passed down the line of five remaining fellows, from person to person, notifying them of your presence and how you were attempting to save them.

You counted them down and then screamed for them to run. Gunshots rang throughout the air as they made a break for the supposed safety of the bins by you as blue lights and sirens swirled, announcing their arrival between the shipping containers. You counted them as they ran for their lives past you.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

But the gunshots…

Jasper.

As you ran to your former partner’s lifeless form, three more shots rang through the air, taking out the associates who’d been ruthlessly gunning down their illegal chattel. Jasper lay there in the harsh headlight of the armed response unit car, his apron and chef’s jacket were no longer the starchy white that glowed under the strip lighting of the kitchen but his skin had taken on a similar pallid tone as his life force pooled around him, staining the oily surface with a bloody bloom. Knelt there with the grit from the floor biting into the skin of your knees, you held his head in your lap, stroking his cold cheek as a shadow cast across you both.

“He’s gone, Nush.”

Tears course down your face in tiny rivulets and spill into Élodie’s hair, “If I had said yes at Fourvière. If I had accepted the position St Vincent had offered me, he’d still be here. He would still be here.”

After putting a hand on each cheek, Élodie then taps you upon the nose making your red-rimmed, watery eyes look into hers, “You didn’t shoot the gun. You didn’t kill him,” she says so matter of fact that you almost feel an inclination to believe her, “You have to stop blaming yourself at some point.”

“He made the decision to go out there without back up or any protection. If I remember correctly, it was Jas’ decision to head back to London too, effectively ending the freedom you had out here,” she adds gravely, “Everyone has to make decisions, Nush. Ours just tend to have more life or death outcomes and remember, the choice you made- you saved five people.

“As for marrying him, you didn’t want to and I don’t know quite how to clearly say this but you don’t have to marry someone because they ask you. Or because you think it’s the right thing to do. You saying no to him, had zero implications in how his life ended,” Élodie smooths a tendril of hair that has escaped your plait behind your ear, “Your relationship didn’t have a true balance because you spent so long trying to hide it- everything feels so much more amplified if you are constantly watching your coattails.”

Rubbing the exhaustion from the onslaught of emotions from your eyes, you turn to face Élodie, “What if that’s it? What if that was my chance of happiness?”

“Okay so you’re now fully in the ridiculous territory, idiot! So bloody naive,” Élodie rolls her eyes and slaps your knee, “ There’s no one person out there- nobody is perfect for you. There are just people who enter your life at different times and there is a certain compatibility…”

“Like you might want to jump their bones,” you giggle through the snot.

“Yep, that definitely helps! But after a while, other stuff comes up and again, you have to make those decisions whether you want to move to the next one or work at the relationship you have,” Élodie says frankly, “ Your first proper grown up relationship wasn’t ever truly allowed to develop into something normal and healthy but please don’t ever think for a second that is all you deserve or will ever get.”

“More happened than just Jasper’s death,” you confide in your ally.

“I know sweetheart. You tell me when you are ready,” Élodie pats your leg, “You will always have Jacques and I here for you. And I reckon Pierre would take you back in a heartbeat if you ever need to escape Marcus, not that I think you will.” You feel a little confused by Élodie’s last statement but don’t have time to swell upon it as the door to the auction house swings open.

Noticing two figures- one wiry and talking rapidly with his hands, the other broad and showing great interest in what the other has to say- walking towards you, you offer Élodie a hand up from your pavement seat. You feel a gentle hand brushing over your bottom and crane your neck to see who it belongs to, “Well, I’d hate for you to make my car any dirtier,” Élodie winks at you.

✪✪✪✪✪

The trip back to Lyon didn’t allow for any more rest for tired eyes against cool car windows. Excited chatter filled the car as between the four of you, you were all busily beavering away from making shouted calls to the science laboratories in Interpol- calling in favours to get your samples tested first- to fingers tapping on screens, flinging emails back to offices trying to inform everyone who needed to know. Although the journey was far longer, it felt as though five minutes had passed from the moment you’d left the auction house- the exhaustion from your disclosure to Élodie giving way to the adrenaline pumping through your veins with the excitement of having found a piece of the puzzle.

Jacques quickly parks in the Interpol car park, where you all pile out of the car, heading back towards the offices. As you walk together, you hear Marcus answer the phone to Andy back in London, filling him in on the events of the day- thankfully leaving out the parts where he’d talked you through a panic attack or accidentally held hands with him.

You didn’t need anyone else in the London offices thinking you were unprofessional. There were enough of those already.

Marcus. So much of the fear has ebbed away about the new role, and in such little time, thanks to your new boss. This straight-speaking American, who makes you speak up and want to stand up a bit taller. For the first time in what felt like forever, work doesn’t feel like a chore to pay the bills for a small, damp flat in South London. It isn’t so much the work as you know that like the back of your hand- it was that feeling of appreciation.

That feeling that someone sees what you can offer and values your contributions- not just as some rookie in an established office but as an equal. You know you are lucky- you get to use all the knowledge from your art history degree (oh how your family had groaned in consternation- doctor or lawyer- those were the proper options. Y’know, a proper career path not something seen as being so wishy-washy) and use it to protect the beauty of art from the shadier underbelly. Not that you could ever explain that part to your mum or her sisters, who just thought you were in some IT job with ridiculous hours.

In fact, it was the first time. You’d worked your way up from being a rookie with Stephens and although you'd got to work in a field with which you had a borderline obsession, you were still always seen as the new kid, even though others came and went after you’d joined and that got a bit wearing, especially when you’d hit your thirties and as you edged ever closer to your forties, it had bordered on the ridiculous.

But Marcus. He didn’t just listen to what you had to say, he positively encouraged you to speak- never expecting you to hold your tongue or wait for the “grown ups” to stop talking.

“Hey, Earth to Anushka,” those ridiculously warm eyes try to call your attention into focus.

“Sorry, heard you on the phone to Andy and took the opportunity to disappear with my thoughts for a bit. It’s been a bit of a day, hasn’t it?” you mutter as the knuckles of your hands almost rub holes in your eye sockets.

“Yeah, I thought we’d find zip on our first check as a team but that was something else,” Marcus nods, pouting his lips in thought, “I honestly thought it was an authentic piece when I found those signatures- just shows how careful we have to be with these crooks.

“You look about ready to collapse- that sleep on the way over, not help? I was about to ask if you fancied grabbing some dinner together but you’re dead on your feet.”

“Didn’t really get much sleep last night. Was kind of dreading what today would bring but,” your hand extends to squeeze Marcus’ forearm, “But you’ve made today far less painful than it could have been.” You feel a warmth creep through you, blooming from the spot where Marcus has placed his hand on top of yours, his thumb unconsciously tracing small circles upon your skin.

“How about a slow walk back to the hotel, we grab some pizza on the way back and sit and watch Sharknado 4 this evening?” you suggest, still not removing your hand from his arm, ”I need to eat something other than breakfast pastries today.”

“Hmmm, I would say that dinner is the best time for breakfast food but yeah, probably best that we find something a bit more substantial,” Marcus relents reluctantly like a petulant child as Élodie and Jacques turn towards you both.

“Oh, why the sad eyes, Marcus? Has she been mean to you? ” Élodie teases, “We have contacts- we can make her disappear…”

Jacques shoots you a despairing look from under his arched eyebrow. The aching sadness returns in your tummy- you’ve missed them so much and missed out on so many special moments with them, “Oof, hey Nush! This isn’t goodbye- no matter the threats Élodie makes upon your life!”

Élodie leans in to sandwich you between the pair of them, “No, Marcus has given me your phone number and your email address- and he has promised me that even if you don’t respond to my communications, that he will send regular updates.” You look over at Marcus, who sends you a sheepish grin and a slight shrug of his shoulders, flashing that goddamn dimple in his right cheek.

“Élodie, are you going upstairs to get everything ready?” Jacques questions his wife, “ There’s only twenty minutes before I need to pick up Xavier from my parents so I’d probably better head off. Can you grab a taxi home afterwards? Nush, I love you and I will see you soon.

“Marcus, it has been a pleasure. I will ensure that all the details are shared with you in London. Let’s keep the lines of communication open between us, oui?” A firm handshake was not the only thing to pass between the men, as Jacques pats Marcus on the back and they wordlessly share a thought, Marcus’ eyes flickering back to you with a small smile.

“Come on, let’s find food and a film before we collapse,” Marcus beckons you towards him with a wave back to Élodie and Jacques before they head off in their respective directions, Élodie’s hand stroking yours as she walks away.

✪✪✪✪✪

Half an hour later, you find yourself standing barefoot outside Marcus’ hotel room door, oddly nervous about knocking. Your hair hangs in waves around your shoulders, still holding some of the twisted kinks that the plaits you wore it in had formed over the course of the day, face scrubbed but you are second guessing your choice of wearing pjs to your new boss’ room. Not that they were in any way indecent- just a good old pair of cotton jammies from M&S and you’d kept your bra on underneath, because not even the worst war criminal deserves to be tortured by the sight of you with your bra off. Just as you were about to head back for a hoodie to perhaps offer an ounce more decency, the door swung open and a slightly surprised look adorns Marcus’ face.

“Hey, I was just about to check where you were. Pizza’s getting cold and you should probably have something warm in your belly that isn’t coffee today!”

“Oh, I was just going to swing back to my room for a hoodie,” you awkwardly mutter in the direction of the deliciously soft looking man, wearing grey joggers and a white t-shirt in front of you.

A small pout crosses Marcus’ lips, “Come on, if you’re chilly, the pizza’ll warm you up but if you’re still cold after eating, you can grab one of mine- that is if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable,” he checks by lowering his eyes and gently lifting your chin.

Deciding not to keep the pizza waiting, you nod and shuffle past Marcus, the plush carpet deliciously soft underfoot, “I haven’t forgotten that we were halfway through a conversation this morning when El and Jacques arrived to pick us up. You want to tell me why you don’t feel like you are where you feel you should be?” you don’t look at Marcus as you ask him, picking the olives off the top of your pizza.

“I thought you said you like olives?” Marcus questions confusedly as he grabs a slice himself.

“Oh I do, but I’ll eat them afterwards as I like to savour them by themselves,” you giggle at your weird pizza eating habits, “Was that a wish to evade the question? Would you prefer to put on a film?”

“Hah, no! You’re full of quirks, y’know? It’s cute,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food.

“Cute?” you raise an eyebrow at this affectionate comment, “Eh, I dunno. I don’t think you can get to almost forty without embracing your quirks at some point.”

“I just hoped that by this point I’d be married with 2.4 kids, a dog and a nice house. Y’know, settled- never taking it for granted, obviously but comfortable with a family,” there’s a flicker of pain that passes through Marcus’ eyes as he speaks and it cuts through you like a knife.

“How on Earth are you not in a long term relationship with a lucky person? From what you’ve shown me over the past two days, you’re kind, considerate and thoughtful- although you should never tease a woman about her supposed snoring,” you pull an ugly face at him, sticking your tongue out and wrinkling your nose to diffuse the tension in his forehead, forcing him to laugh.

“Oh, I was married once and had long term relationships but neither worked out, sadly,” Marcus shrugs, focussing intently on his next pizza slice, “Can’t the same thing be said about you? You’re a beautiful, funny and intelligent woman and although you are a menace to yourself and those around you with a coffee cup in your hands, I don’t get why you haven’t been snapped up.”

Grabbing the pizza box and Marcus’ hand- pulling them both towards your room, you say, “Come with me.”

Thrusting the pizza box towards his hands, you put the keycard in the door and the light flickers to green. Guiding Marcus by the food container through the room to the balcony, you swing the French doors open to be greeted by a stiff Alpine air and the twinkling lights of Lyon spreading towards you.

“As you know from today, I was here in Lyon before. My partner and I were seconded here to work alongside Interpol on an art smuggling case- that’s how I knew El, Jacques, Pierre and everyone else from this morning’s meeting. We weren’t just work partners, we’d been hiding a romantic relationship for just over a decade in London as we knew that our supervisors wouldn’t allow us to continue to work together,” you clear your throat and see a flash of concern from Marcus seeing how much your hands were trembling.

He reaches for your hand with the lightest of touches grazing your ring and little fingers but not letting go.

Drawing a deep breath, you continue, “You see the beautiful cathedral up there- Fourviere?” you catch Marcus giving a gentle nod as he looks in the direction of your hand, the one he’s not holding, “Jasper asked me to marry him up there. And I, um… I said no.” Your eyes guiltily shift to the left after owning up to your shoddy track record.

“I mean, I did love him but I couldn’t offer him what he wanted or needed from life or from me. We’d hidden too long in the shadows and the thought of trying to explain everything to our families, to our friends, to our workplace was just too overwhelming. I had a lot more to lose than him.

“As you said earlier, our work is very much an old boys network and as a mixed race woman against a white man- who’d got his position due to a bit of nepotism as his uncle was our London boss- I stood to lose so much more. I have always had to work harder and to be a more impressive candidate to be taken as seriously as any white man in the room.”

“Had we returned to London as a married couple, there would have been so many unspoken questions about when we would think about having babies so there’d never be a chance of going any higher for me. And although seeing El and Jacques today- they have it so balanced. El was telling me that they split her maternity leave equally and that even now their baby is one, they have flexi working times so although they have such a little one and such intense jobs, they can still be there for bedtimes and neither of them be sidelined. But I know that’s not how it would have worked with us. Jas would have worked full time and I would have been a simmering pot of resentment.”

You notice that despite your confession that Marcus still hasn’t stopped holding your hand and regardless of the evening chill, warmth spreads through you at the thought that you haven’t entirely repulsed him with your actions.

“Where is he now? DId he ask for a transfer when you headed back?” Marcus gently questions.

“He took the ultimate transfer. We were working together undercover and he was shot multiple times trying to save some people from being murdered,” with a small shrug, you take your hand back from Marcus despite the comfort it is bringing you and cover your face. As you do so, he pulls you towards him, holding you tightly into his chest, resting his chin on top of your head.

With a gentle push back from his broad chest but without leaving his arms completely, you tilt your face up at him, “In fact, other than Jas’ death the bitterest pill was me being transferred out of the department. As you can probably imagine, a lot of shit went down after that night and a lot of the blame from it was laid at my door. Whilst it was all happening, I wasn’t allowed to have any contact with work colleagues and of course, your family can only know so much of what’s going on when you follow our line of work.

“So, I spent eight months in a stupid kind of limbo- being paid full whack whilst sitting at home, mourning a man who I’d been with for a quarter of my life but didn’t want to marry.” Shaking your head slowly, you continue, “That’s why I was a bit of a mess today- I kind of dreaded seeing everyone and how they might blame me for everything that happened with Jas.”

“Shit, I’m sorry sweetheart,” with that affectionate nickname confidently trickling from Marcus’ lips, you look up and smile broadly at him, “I am sorry that you went through all that. I have to be honest, as I am a terrible liar- there is a part of me that is glad that our paths have overlapped- I just wish it could be under happier circumstances.”

“No,” you pat him upon his chest, “You don’t get to our age without some kind of baggage and in our occupation, it’s hard for most people to understand our commitment to our job.”

“Hah, you can say that again- that’s what ended my marriage. That and her new partner,” you scrunch your face in consideration of Marcus’ pain, your thumbs rubbing back and forth, “And the failed engagement is what brought me to London- kept seeing her and the man she left me for around the DC offices.”

“Let’s go toast to those ghosts and our converging paths with what will be now a very warm bottle of white wine and cold pizza,” with eyes widening in amusement you smile at him, your hands still on his chest and his hands on your back, “But indoors as it is fucking freezing out here, no matter how pretty it is.”

“Agreed,” Marcus chuckles deeply, moving his hands to rub some warmth back into your arms.

“Just going to grab a hoodie,” you call over your shoulder as you go back into your bedroom. As you rummage through your bag, you miss the flicker of disappointment on Marcus’s face that he wouldn’t get to smell your perfume on his clothes.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Hey,” that beautifully soft baritone meltingly drifted up from the sofa in Marcus’ room, “Comfy now? I hope you don’t mind but I chose Casablanca instead of Sharknado 4.”

As you cross the floor in socked feet to try and thaw them out from your balcony adventure, you shake your head with a lopsided smile, “Not ok,” but to put Marcus’ raised eyebrow at ease, you add, “It’s my favourite - but you’d better have tissues at the ready as it will make me a snotty mess.”

“Already prepared,” he holds a tissue box aloft, “It does the same to me too.”

Instead of sitting at the other end of the sofa, you grab a glass of wine from the table and slide into Marcus’ side- half sitting up, half leaning against him. He reaches over, pulling your head onto his shoulder, stroking your hair away from your face and there you stay, comfortably curled into his side. Not for the hour and three quarters of the film, but until rays of spring sunshine filter through the blinds the following morning.

Tag list of glory: If you’d like to be added or dropped from the tag list or have any thoughts, thots or suggestions, please do get in touch! I don’t bite hard 🥰

@astroboots @silverwolf319 @lunaserenade @danniburgh @leonieb @mrsparknuts @sirowsky @yespolkadotkitty @agirllovespancakes @tardisfangurl @zukoyonce @absurdthirst @green-socks @pedropascalito @disgruntledspacedad @mouthymandalorian @the-ginger-hedge-witch @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

#josé pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal#ppascaledit #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfic #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x oc reader

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kassies-take · 4 years ago

Text

A Page From Maggie’s Book

Can you do a Maggie Sawyer x best friend reader badass team up where reader is new to superhero work and decides to go on a ride along with Maggie to see how police handle threats or something?

@healthtobination

A/n: Sorry it’s taken awhile for me to do this

Warning: Rape, violence

Maggie Sawyer x BestFriend!Reader

Word Count: 1747

“Do I get a gun?” you asked after putting on bullet proof gear.

Maggie scoffed, “you think I am going to give you a gun? That’s funny.”

“It was worth a try,” you shrugged.

“You don’t need a gun when you’ve got force fields.”

“Are we going to stop a robbery? Car chase? Ooh a...”

Maggie chuckled. “You’re cute, I’m a detective officer not a patrol officer.”

“So what do you do?”

“First off, you don’t need this.” Maggie gestured to the bullet proof vest. “till necessary. Second detectives don’t have your typical police cars, we’re stealthy, we find information. Our ride is unmarked cars.”

“What information do you find?” You asked leaning against Maggie’s desk

“We find anything and everything about suspects, their high school, the clubs they join, the name of their family pet, their sister’s name, parents name, job, friends. Everything.”

“So what do we do now.”

“Research.”

You tapped a pen on your knee continuously. The constants ticks made Maggie look at you with a raised eyebrow. She rolled closer to the right side of her desk, took out a key and opened the bottom cabinet. The detective pulled out a thick beige folder and handed it to you.

“What is this?”

“Victims.”

“Victims? Of?”

“Look through them.”

The file revealed multiple women with rape at the bottom.

“All of these women were rapped?” You flipped though several pages.

“You’ve worked with Alex and Kara before, they both go way to fast into action. Punching their way into things. We go the whole way, we want the man responsible to rot in hell. We find evidence and we don’t hold back and we do it for them.”

“Kara and Alex catch the guy. Kara’s a reporter so she has to get evidence.”

“Most of the time, Alex or Kara catch the guys but they get away from lack of evidence. Little Danvers may have evidence but she does not get to control the jury, or how the other side uses the evidence.”

“Sawyer, come have a look at this.”

You followed Maggie down the hall. The other officer played a footage. A view over the city.

“Real-estate, so what.”

“Wait,” The camera flew closer towards a window. Past the window was a girl changing.

“This is disgusting,” you glared at the screen.

“We’ve got a peeping Tom,” Maggie crossed her arms.

“It gets worse,” the screen cut to a bed room corner showcasing the whole master bed room.

A blond millennial woman in a pink shirt and grey sweatpants, walked from what was assumed the bathroom towards the bed. Seconds later a man in a mask pushed her onto the bed. There was obvious signs of struggling from the girl. You turned away as the man ripped open her sweatpants and began thrusting into the woman.

“He’s not a peeping Tom, he’s a serial rapist.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat in Maggie’s passenger seat blankly staring at the the dashboard.

“Feet off the dash!” Maggie was as equally as pissed as your were.

“He clearly is the one in the video! Why can’t we use that?”

“We know it’s him, but for all we know it could be a man in a mask.”

“Ugh!!!!” You kicked at dash board. “You know what makes this more frustrating!”

“You kicking my car?”

“No, it’s that parents are more afraid of their kids being gay than they are of their kids being rapist or sex offenders.”

“At least your parents didn’t kick you out of the house.”

“You’ve got a point.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It has been a few days since you and Maggie saw those tapes. You were currently twirling your pen going over notes Maggie took home. You had refused to play any games, even when the rest of Superfriends told you it would be a good way to destress.

“Everything is a dead end right now.” Maggie sighed, explaing to Superfriends about the case.

“Did you guys talk to any of the victims?”

“Yeah we did, one of the ladies said he took her necklace.”

“Did he take anything else from them. You know beside this whole thing?”

“We’re looking through it now. We did find that he went to this coffee shop frequently.” Maggie responded.

“Any of the victims connect there?”

“No nothing. I’m gonna check it out tomorrow see if any of the employees notice him or look through cameras if they have any.”

“Bring me along?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I know this case is important but can we get on with the game?” Alex frowned.

You opened your mouth to say something but Alex stopped you before you could.

“I’m not being insensitive (n/n). I’m very annoyed and as pissed as you are. But the point of tonight was to get your mind off this and have a mental break.” She picked up the dice.

“Lena’s on her IPad going through projects, and Kara is writing an article.” You pointed your thumbs to the side.

Nia peeked over Kara’s shoulder. “Actually they’re sexting each other.” She sipped her wine.

“What now?” You peeked at Lena’s IPad.

“Little Danvers,” Maggie smirked.

“What! Let me have a moment with my girlfriend.”

“That moment better be CONSENSUAL!” You threw popcorn at Kara.

“Why are you only throwing popcorn at me! Not that I mind.” Kara popped a few piece into her mouth.

“Cause I expected it from Lena and not you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“The workers say he comes often but doesn’t usually stay.” Maggie sighed.

“The other regulars say he just gets coffee and leaves.” You rested your chin on one hand.

“It’s not a dead end yet we can still check the cameras.”

The black and white video showed the suspect parking his car, walking into the coffee shop and leaving in the opposite direction. After several videos of the same action you and Maggie got up from your seats.

“Where ever he goes it must be in walking distance if he doesn’t take his car.”

“Mags... you know how in shows people rent out a storage unit to hide evidence or dead bodies.”

“Yeah what about it?”

“There’s one across the street.”

“Get ready with your shields.” Maggie pulled out her gun from her holster.

“We’re not calling for backup?”

“By the time backup gets here he could be gone.”

You followed after Maggie. Your heart beated against your chest. Clear honeycomb like patterns surrounded your two hands.

Besides a couple of people and a few boxes the units were sickenly quiet. The two of you reached a corridor with flickering lights. The circuit was either cut or it was done on purpose.

Your hands were shaking at the thought. Fear flashed across your face and the shields began to glitch. Maggie on the other hand pulled out a flashlight and sneaked with it over her gun.

Maggie slowed her steps as one of the units were opened. It was deserted yet filled with a twin bed, a few boxes, a blue bike, what seems to be a beaten teddy bear, water bottles, paper towels all lightened by a desk lamp.

“Dispatch this is 129F40, I’m gonna need back up at Studio Self Storage on Conova and Mar-”

A loud yell and a slam against metal met the officer and dispatchers.

“(Y/n!)”

Maggie joined kicking the man away after he threw a punch at your face. He was not giving you any time to recover and use your shields.

He moved his attention onto Maggie after you struggled to stand from the two head traumas you recieved. Maggie was good but he wrestled the gun out of her hands. He overpowered her and slammed her against another metal door.

Maggie pushed maneuvered her legs up against the wall and pushed him back against the other side. She threw punches.

You got up, crossed your arm on your shoulders and pushed forth a shield to move the man away from Maggie.

~~~~~~~~~~

“All officers and firefighters calling all back up, officer is in distress. Officer 129F40 is in distress.”

Dispatcher said over the radio. Alex immediately looked over at J’onn. “That’s Maggie’s number!”

They heard several grunts, as they immediately recognized Maggie and your voices. They also heard a whooshing sounds knowing that that was you and your shields.

Alex reaches towards her ear to activate the com.

“Kar-“

A gunshot echoed around the room before it went silent.

Kara rushed towards you and Maggie as she reached the self storage. She led the police and found Maggie sitting next to you. Kara rushed over scanning your body for the gunshot wound.

“She’s fine. She has a concussion and a few bad scratches.” Maggie said.

“A few? Her eye is swollen shut and her shoulder is dislocated, don’t forget to mention the other cuts on her face.”

You grinned at Kara. “We got him.”

Kara took a look further down the corridor and found a glaring bloody man with his hands cuffed through the bed frame.

~~~~~~~~~~

You sat on the bed at Luthor Family Children’s Hospital. You got most of the injuries from the first surprise attack. Your arm was in a sling and several bandages on your face. Maggie only had a busted lip.

“I can’t believe you two went in with no back up.” Alex scolded.

“To be fair, they did catch the rapist.” Lena said from one of the chairs. “And without the help of Supergirl.”

“What took you so long anyways Kara?” Alex looked over at her sister.

Kara turned red.

“You weren’t!” You looked between Kara and Lena.

“Well we still proved that National City does need police officers and detectives after all.”

“No we proved that Superfriends is a good team. Half of this duo doesn’t even get paid.” You were still upset. “But Kara could take a page from Maggie’s book, instead of ogling at Lena.”

“Hey!”

#maggie sawyer x reader #maggie sawyer x platonic!reader #maggie sawyer #alex danvers #sanvers #lena luthor #kara danvers #supergirl #supergirl imagine #supergirl imagines #supergirl x reader #supercorp

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logan-trash · 4 years ago

Text

trans dyslexic Logan chapter 2

chapter 1

summary: logan and virgil get closer

pairing: analogical, royality, and qpr with remus and janus

words: 1111 (lol it just happen like that)

@logince @analogicalhell

ao3 wattpad

BEEP BEEP

Logan’s eyes shot open he got up and started getting ready for school. He pulled out his phone looking at it.

32 messages

Logan was shocked he looked trough all of them was from Virgil, he texts back

Loire: dude why you text me so much

Virgil: now you respond

Loire: I was asleep

Virgil: it was like 7:30 when you stop responding

Loire: so I go to bed early

Virgil: that’s way too early

Loire: not really

Virgil: whatever meet me at the gate of the school in 20

Loire: okay

Logan got ready for school he made his way to the gate and saw Virgil standing there, they chatted a little bit before the bell ring, and they when there ways to class. The class was boring, but logan took notes.

finally, lunchtime came and he when to his spot Virgil was sitting at the table along with Remus. Logan didn’t ask he just sat down. They chatted for a bit then there hear someone call Remus. They turn around and saw roman and Janus. Roman was running and when he got to the table he was out of breath.

“Remus…. you … little… shit” roman said between gaps of air

“What?” Remus asked Janus came and calmly sat down next to Remus then smacked him “ouch”

“Dude we have been worried sick”

“Where have you been?” Roman asked

“Here,” Remus said still rubbing his shoulder

“Remus you know I love you but you got to tell me before you go running off,” Janus said “otherwise I think you’re burning the world down without me”

“Sorry”

“It okay just tell us next time” Roman sat down. They chatted about philosophy Virgil and Janus really got into it Roman seemed lost. When the bell ring Roman and logan walked to class. Class when by fast Logan was worried he had the art class next he wasn’t sure how it was going to go. He walked to class Virgil was standing outside he gives logan and smile.

“Hey it is going to be okay”

Remus runs up behind them “yeah we got you!”

They walked into class and sat down in the front. Patton sat down with them, the teacher glared at them but didn’t say anything when logan took at his iPad. She talked about color theory logan took notes, then she told them to draw something that made them happy. Logan knew exactly what he wanted to draw.

“Hey since you three weren't in class yesterday I’ll show you where everything is” Patton show them around, logan grab watercolors. Remus got normal paint and Virgil grab the charcoal. And Patton got crayon they all sat down and started drawing/painting. Logan was painting space first he painted pluto his favored planet and then painted blue and purple around it. The teacher comes by she told Patton that she loves his dog. And after looking over the things the other three were drawing she said nothing and just walked away.

“Bitch didn’t like my rotting corpse,” Remus said logan looked over at Remus’s art which was really good.

“Wow I don’t understand why it is so good”

“Thanks” logan looked over at Virgil who was drawing a spider. Not just any spider but what looked like a tarantula and it was cool it was zoom in on the eyes.

“Virgil that looks so good”

“Thanks” Virgil blush a little then everyone looked at logan’s

“Loire you such a nerd,” Remus said

“Well I can’t argue with that”

“It's good Loire”

“Thanks” they when back to work chatting as they work. Too soon the teacher told them they had 10 mins so Patton shows them where to put their artwork and they all clean up and when to their next class. Remus and Logan walked to Dr. Pisani class logan worked on his homework and try to keep Remus on task.

Right before the class was over to logan.

“Hey since Remus has decided to stick by you I was wounding if I could have your number in case me and Roman lose him again”

“Um yeah here” logan pulled his phone out and Janus put his number in.

“Thanks”

“No problem” logan text Janus and begin to walk home. When he got home he looked at his phone, he had a message from Janus telling him to download discord he did. After making an account he joined Janus's group chat.

Space-is-great has joined the chat

Snake-man: hey it Janus

The-prince: I’m roman

The-disaster: Remus the better twin here

The-prince: hey!

The-disaster: YOu know it true

Snake-man: oh Lorie if you have Virgil number I would also like to add him to the group chat he seems cool.

Space-is-great: oh yeah I'll text him

Logan when over to his messages and text Virgil about the group chat.

Spooky-time(he/him) has apparentled

Snake-man: hey it Janus

The-disaster: Remus at your service

The-prince: it Roman the best twin

The-disaster: now you sound desperate

Space-is-great: Lorie

The-prince: hey Virgil

Spooky-time(he/him): Yeah

The-prince: two questions. It's August it's not spooky time. Also, why do you have he/her on your name?

Spooky-time(he/him): it always spooky time. And because I have friends on here from all over the world and not all of them know me in person. And not all of them are cis.

Logan's heart started to race. Virgil knew what cis meant. Virgil seems to be okay with people who weren't cis.

Snake-man: my turn to ask what cis mean?

Spooky-time(he/him): cis means you identify with the gender you were born with. Someone who not cis could be trans or nonbinary.

The-disaster: are you cis?

Spooky-time(he/him): yes I am but I think everyone should say their pronouns we shouldn't assume them.

Snake-man(he/him): I like it.

The-disaster(he/him): me too

The-prince(he/him): I'm on board.

Spooky-time(he/him): nice.

Snake-man(he/him) Hey Lorie you have been quite you still here

Logan didn't know what to do. He loved the idea of putting your pronouns up and everyone seemed fine with it but what would they think if he actually put his real pronouns up there. Would they hate him?

The-disaster(he/him): she probably doing homework.

Spooky-time(he/him): Yeah. She probably put her pronouns in later.

Logan could vision started to get weird. It took him a minute to realized he was crying. He just made friends and now they were expecting him to put she/her. But that wasn't him. He throws the phone and cry on his bed and was soon asleep.

#logan sanders #trans logic #trans logan #trans dyslexia logan #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders

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londonfog-chan · 5 years ago

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Passione x Reader: Sudoh Buck AU

This was too fucking good to let it rot in AO3 so now you all have to be subjected to my JoJo thirst. All characters aged up (otherwise how the fuck would they have this job??)

...

“So you’re not working my shift???”

“No... you’re actually my relief.”

Your best friend is clocking out just as you’re going to clock in. She looks dolefully up at you, nearly in tears from how the day has treated her. It’s her last shift for the week at the Passione Street location for Sudoh Buck, but you’re not sure why it was she had such a horrible time.

“He’s so mean!” She whispers as you lean down next to her.

“Who?!”

“The one on drive thru. He kept kicking me off bar because I made too many mistakes. I don’t know what I’m going to do for a whole three weeks with these people. I miss our store.”

The system is unavailable for you to punch in on the computer, so you’ll have to hunt down the punch communication log and you’re not exactly enthralled to be asking the dudes at the front. One of the guys, silver haired giant with neon lipstick, fucking glared you down when you went to the back. Had it not been for your coworker from the old store (Kimmy) walking out to say goodbye you’re sure he would have pummeled you.

“Yeah?” You ask, slightly bristling as your friend continues to look sad. “Well fuck me I guess. I’ll have to find out where that damn book is and go talk to one of them, and then you’ll be out and I’ll have to deal with this shit all by myself. At least you had the luxury of working with our crew...”

You can’t help the bitterness in your voice even though you know your friend is hurt. It’s been one fucking thing after another. You kept asking everyone where to go, and after being ignored and given a gang face, you’re not altogether sure you like Passione location after all... it’s in a location where you used to live as a child, not too far a commute from your current house where you live with your mother, and it’s the newest location established. But the newness is a fucking facade. You already have a bad impression by how they treated your friend, you can’t imagine they’re taking too kindly to being invaded by a new store. A friend working the S. Platinum location told you the other day he heard some blonde bastard of a shift complaining that the Ogre Street crew was stealing all the tips from the regular crew.

From a customer’s perspective, this is a coffee drinker’s paradise. Everything looks bright and new, when you walk into the cafe area, the front where they have the registers and the pastry case is on one big countertop that’s shared with the espresso bar and cold bar. In back of the bar is the drive thru window, and at the end of the espresso bar there’s some seating arrangements where customers can watch their drinks being made. It’s a typical Sudoh Buck color scheme. Lots of greys and white, the customers flock to it looking to get their fix, but under the facade there’s apparently a bastard crew working it. On top of that, the remodel for your location is going to take longer than anticipated. What else can you do but just rough it out with strangers you don’t even know?

“Well... I guess I’ll go home now.” Your friend murmurs sadly.

“Yeah. Bye.”

Your friend gets up and gathers her things, looking at you wistfully before mouthing “good luck”. In a few seconds she’s gone, and you’re standing there in an unfamiliar back office, apron in hand, wondering how on earth you’re going to survive the first day without anyone from your old store to help you.

“Oh hi there!”

An unusually cheerful voice jolts you out of your stupor as you come face to face with an unfamiliar associate. He looks fairly young, black messy hair held back with a bandana, and he looks you up and down with a sly look in his violet eyes.

“You’re one of the baristas from Ogre Street Mall yeah? Are you looking for the book?” He asks, cocking his head to the side as he ties up the strings of his apron. His black metal name tag has green chalk marker on it too small to make out, so you can’t tell his name right away.

“Yeah, I started a few months ago at that location. And yes, that would be helpful.” You tell him your name, and you can’t help the jump in your pulse when you hear him roll it off his tongue.

“That’s a pretty cute name.” He flirts, coming up on you with his fist up. “Nice to meet ya, I’m Narancia.”

You have to smile as you fist bump him (hey, it’s impolite to leave a homeboy hanging). Immediately you feel the strongest connection to him; Narancia is the first helpful and friendly face you’ve met so far in this location. And if he’s this cute and working a shift with you, you fully intend to stick by him wherever he goes.

“That’s not a bad name either my guy.” You smile. “Now about that book...”

“Come with me to front, we keep the book by the register in case anyone can’t get into the system.” He casually drapes an arm around your shoulder and you instinctually lean into him.

Hey, no one’s ever flirted with you before at work, and there’s no harm in it if you’re single. You know he’s probably smiling wider than fuck, but you could really care less at this point. Embarrassment ended when work jaded you. When you’re working 36 hours a week for minimum wage you tend to lose things like dignity.

“Here, make sure you check off this part with ‘New Store Labor’. Want me to get the ASM so he can tell you where to go?”

“That’d be great.” You insist. “I really appreciate you.”

“Stay right there!”

He runs off to the same isolated corner where you can hear the guys running drive thru taking orders. Before you write your name in the book, you notice that Narancia doesn’t clock in on the computer. The entire week is him filling out his punches in the book, one of many indicators that he was a barista who hated the new update for the punch log on the iPads. This indicates he’s the best kind of barista: the lazy fuck who can shortcut anything and come out on top. A few others prefer the book too, and you can’t help but admire the immaculate handwriting of this “Leone Abbacchio”, and you wonder if they’re as nice as their handwriting.

While you write in your punch, some dude with a funny looking orange beanie looks at you from his spot by the convection ovens, and you notice he’s muttering to himself on what looks like a gaming headset. When you make eye contact with him, he looks away as though he’s been caught committing a crime, saved by the loud beeping of the oven. He takes the tongs he’s holding and takes out some croissants, bagging them and putting stickers on the front before running them past you.

Narancia seems to be taking his sweet ass time with the assistant store manager. There’s another young looking guy, a blonde, at the point of sales system, the cafe is dead but bar is bumping, you can see other baristas pumping out drinks like their lives depend on it. Occasionally one will hand a drink off to a counter out of sight (probably to neon lipstick asshole who gang faced you earlier). The blonde leans against the counter, looking at you up and down the same way Narancia did. Vaguely you wonder: why did your friend say these guys were assholes? The blond and Narancia, along with the warming guy, seem perfectly content to check you out, and frankly you’re enjoying the attention. Fuck a duck, the guys here are hot!

“You’re the barista from Ogre Street?”

The question comes from the blonde at the POS system. You nod.

“Yessir. Just coming on board until the remodel happens.” You reply. “What’s your name?”

“Call me Fugo. You?”

He smiles when you tell him your name, but evidently you’re going to have to wait your turn to talk to him. That’s the beauty of working a coffee shop, customers just crawl out of the woodwork and line up at the POS system, and you smile when you hear Fugo’s very lovely “Welcome to Sudoh Buck, what may I get started for you today?”. It’s pretty awkward just chilling out by the pastry case. Typically you just jump into the first unmanned task when you walk into your store, but this is entirely new territory. Even the espresso machines are different here, you heard talk that soon all the new Sudoh Buck locations are getting what’s called Mastrena 4’s, whatever the shit that means. All you know is it’s supposed to make things a hell of a lot easier, and that you have to have it mastered before the remodel is completed.

“Sorry we kept you waiting for so long, you must be so confused.”

You’re pulled out of your stupor and suddenly face to face with the most gorgeous assistant store manager you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s got what your coworkers would call a “Karen” haircut, but he wears it well, and apparently he doesn’t mind it all too much that you’re staring at him like he’s a piece of meat in a butcher shop. He’s tall, all legs and arms with broad shoulders in a black turtleneck sweater. Narancia is almost overshadowed by the ASM’s beauty (he returns wearing the same headset as the guy on oven duty), but you sneak a glance at him too just for a minute.

“Y-yea... I mean, no it’s cool. I just, it’s like was anyone going to tell me what to do? Or was I supposed to have a sense of purpose myself?”

... Jesus Christ on a crutch... you note that the ASM must really appreciate your blunt humor, because his blue eyes are even smiling as he laughs. Narancia can’t help but laugh too, and with both men looking like snacks whenever they smile you’re about to drop from being so weak in the knees.

“I think you’ll be a great fit here.” The ASM smiles, “My name is Bruno Buccellati. You are...”

Your name rolling off his tongue makes you weak again. Oh lort... how does any barista get work done around here with all this man candy???

“Before we start, what position are you most comfortable with?” Bruno asks.

You’re about ten seconds from blurting out something nasty: spit roast sounds nice, Narancia and oven guy can watch.

“Ok...” you steel yourself, fully prepared with a speech you’d rehearsed in the car only an hour before. “I’m gonna keep it real with you chief, I don’t know how to do anything in a drive thru, and I don’t know how to run the new Mastrenas. If someone can show me I can do bar, otherwise I’m down to help on cold.”

Bruno seems to take this into consideration, looking over at the line that’s forming on front. Narancia looks too, immediately hopping onto bar where he starts steaming milk and pulling espresso shots from the machine without anyone having to ask him. His quick response triggers that look in Bruno’s eyes, and he nods you over towards the bar.

“I think I’ll have you with Narancia on cold bar for now. He’s going to be cafe and drive thru bar, so whatever he needs help with, just pull the stickers and he can show you where everything is. We’ll kill this line, and then I can give you a more permanent assignment. How’s that sound?”

“Gotcha!”

You instantly spring into action, much more confident now that you have direction. Narancia is pulling stickers out of a square machine and pasting them to cups, handing the plastic ones to you where you spring into action. Getting into a sequence, you start a drink, begin another one, work on the first, then start a third, going on like this until you’ve got a rhythm. Pumping out teas, fraps, refreshers, anything iced at all. Your hands fly over your work, and you almost don’t hear the praises that are being showered on you.

“Damn look at her go!” Whistles Narancia, “Hey Mista! Check out bar star over here!”

The guy from warming is over your shoulder as you hand out a drink, calling out Tom’s 20 ounce passion hibiscus tea. He smiles at you for a split second, too dazzling for words, then runs back to the oven when his headset lights up.

Vaguely you wonder how the hell your friend had such a rough time here at this location when there’s so much nice man candy to look at.

#vento aureo #jojo’s bizzare adventure vento aureo #jojo’s bizzare adventure #jjba x reader #jjba #bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #guido mista x reader #guido mista #pannacotta fugo x reader #pannacotta fugo #narancia ghirga x reader #narancia ghirga #leone abbacchio x reader #leone abbacchio #trish una #trish una x reader

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pixel-picasso · 5 years ago

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Ah. Vindictiveness, ye olde friend.

So so so, update on my bro being essentially disowned! (And by disowned I mean he’s no longer a benefactor to anything - when, god forbid, my mom and step dad die, *I* will be the sole inheritor at this point. Like idk if my mom will do a whole official disownment thing but there’s talk of suing so yknow-)

So my mom and pappy are military, and my pappy had my bro and I as benefiting from VA — which is like, the Veteran’s Association. I genuinely don’t get all the details but it’s sorta like, if ur a veteran then u get a sorta monetary compensation?? I guess?? I’m probably rly wrong at explaining it but the point is; Pappy, in the military, family gets money for him being there. Anyways it’s like 2-3k a month and I’ve been putting the entirety of mine towards school, which I’m on break from atm and will probably return when the COVID stuff calms down and my school has everything situated. But anyways!! My brother was getting the same amount of money— e x c e p t.

My mom told my Pappy to take him off the VA benefits. And that’s reasonable, right? Especially since Some of the highlights of my brother’s parting messages to my stepdad were about how Pappy was “whipped” for defending my mom, and how my brother hoped “[he] rot in Afghan”. So, you know, my brother essentially told my Pappy to suck his dick and die. And yeah, my brother DID actually say “suck my dick”. He went on this very long and nasty spiel! What a charmer, my brother is. :/

So anyways!

Sometimes the VA makes mistakes — no biggie, it’s the government; they have literally thousands of files and stuff lmao, all you rly gotta do is hit them up, let them know what the mistake is, and they’ll work with you to fix it! Easy peasy, tho of course there are steps to the process but whatever, doesn’t matter — what DOES matter is my brother, who moved out in the middle of the day while my mom and I were at work without telling us or talking about it and took all his clothes (which my mom bought), his expensive designer shoes (my mom bought those too), OUR Xbox (which!!! I’m mad about!!!!), his iPad and laptop (which my mother’s parents bought, actually, but considering the things my bro said to their daughter...) and... of all things, a jug of lemonade and a bag of pretzels?? I’m still bewildered on that actually — but anyways point is my brother did all that, and then he had the audacity to change his number (my mom blocked him after all the terrible things he accused her of), and text my mom about how since his VA benefits were canceled, he has to retroactively pay back the money he’d already been given....

.... $27,000.

Now!! Take that in for just a moment. Absorb that ghastly number. Laugh about it like I did! This is the same brother of mine who thought he could get an apartment and live off it for $500, which the particularly well informed will know is the exact same number that people are getting for those COVID dispensions that you would only even get if you paid taxes last year, which my brother didn’t... Yeah, I know. If my brother weren’t to pay that back, it would tank his credit score - sending it into the negatives!! He’d probably be blacklisted by anyone willing to loan money!!! Karma at its finest!

UNFORTUNATELY, it’s but a simple clerical error. :/ my mom actually will work to fix that, because she doesn’t want to actually RUIN him for life. But my brother doesn’t know that and gets to sweat for a while until it gets fixed... but I get to have a great big laugh in the mean time!! (And yes, I do think my brother deserves to at the very least panic about paying that off because seriously guys, he said some truly heinous things to my mom and Pappy.)

Anyways that’s my Family Report y’all, I know a person or two might’ve been curious as to how this has gone down since my very vague allusions to it from last time!

#text post #mine #personal #text #hndhfhfhgj why yes i AM bitter ny brother stole the xbox #whatever gave you that idea

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polygarnstars · 5 years ago

Note

part 1: 4, 12, 15, 18, and 19

If you think I’m going to have common sense and not answer all of these in a single post, I have Bad News lmao

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you? Smart, mostly. “Gifted”. This very much Did Not Last lmaoooo

12. name of your favorite playlist? I literally never make playlists I’m a stupid fuck who uses their spotify premium to skip freely through all my thousands of liked songs on shuffle until I find something I want to listen to lmaooooo (Having said that: Rey and I put together a playlist for some characters we were entering a contest to win last fall which I titled Story and Song after the TAZ arc and also because we wrote Way Too Much for it and I’m Very Proud Of That)

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment? Okay upon reading this I initially genuinely couldn’t remember any of the books I read in school because for the last several years of my schooling I just fuckin Sparknotes and TV Tropes-ed everything lmao... having said that, I do remember enjoying Maus! It was neat having a graphic novel assigned amongst all the “literary classics” that I couldn’t sit through a sitting of without falling asleep, and it may be the furry in me but the depiction of the characters/people as animals was Good :0c See, if all history was depicted with methods like this, I’d maybe actually be able to remember it ghfdjhgjfkdl

18. ideal weather? Depends on the day, but generally: Between like 65-80°F, not humid, not a lot of wind, and either sunny, partly cloudy, or drizzly but not outright storming. Basically decent temperatures without feeling like I’m walking through soup because of the humidity and weather that’s not completely gray and boring. Aka what Maine basically never is lmaoooo

19. sleeping position? I change positions every five minutes I swear to god (don’t take that out of context gfhdjbhvjd). Usually with at least one arm draped over a pillow that is Definitely Not Being Mentally Portrayed As A Character I Like To Supplement The Fact That I Did Not Get Enough Affection To Be A Functional Adult As A Child ghfdjknbhgfjdk

21. obsession from childhood? bold of you to assume i don’t still obsess over nintendo games (and just video games in general tbh)

23. strange habits? OKAY I COULDN’T THINK OF ANYTHING FOR THIS AT FIRST BUT I HAVE ONE NOW: MIDNIGHT FRIES

28. five songs to describe you? Speeding - LightsDaydreaming - ParamoreMusic - Mystery SkullsNo Lullaby - SIAMÉSLonely Dance - Set If Off+Bonus because it came up on Spotify while I was shuffling for songs for this and it’s a Mood: Pineapples Do Not Belong on a Pizza - Vargskelethor

29. best way to bond with you? I don’t know I usually just scream about ocs or video games with people and suddenly it’s been a year??? @riskreyes how has it been a year since we started talking but also how has it only been a year??? Wild bvhfdjkbhvgfjdk

30. places that you find sacred? Lmao I’ve never had anywhere like that really. Need a goddamn lock on my door :p I guess... the woods by my house? As a little kid before things got shitty my neighbor’s cousin or niece or something would go out there wandering around catching frogs and stuff in the spring or almost falling into the frozen streams during winter. When things started to go to shit in my life as a teenager I would hide out there to get away and nobody would find me. I haven’t been recently but the last time I did my friend and I walked along the train tracks and dove off into the woods by the side to avoid the amtrak coming by, it was great lmao. Uhh, other than that... I dunno, Boston and New York and New London all make me feel good to visit. Probably mostly because during those trips I don’t feel trapped in a dying land like Maine feels like bgvhfdjkhvgfjd

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? ......my entire wardrobe is my work outfit, excessive graphic tees, and jeans. So uhh... I dunno. I guess my NWTB shirts are pretty rad, I’d kick a dude’s ass wearing Nate’s merch

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? if i have to see another ad for some fuckin branch of the us military while i’m just out here trying to watch people play video games i swear to god-

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school? Oh boy I don’t know how weird these are but do you want a list??? I can give you a list hang on- In 4th grade we had a day of class where we all just had a party and ate chips and salsa and stuff because the pats won the super bowl and our teacher was Obsessed- In middle school my math class started working out of college textbooks, which is a bit much when you’re 11, advanced classes or no. Yet somehow none of the other students had any problems with this- Also in middle school, the school counselor really wasn’t very Good at his job so I usually just ended up playing Rock Band in his office instead of talking out any of my Many, Many Problems. I played the drums, for the record- Also in middle school, one time I straight up fell down a flight of stairs? Like, a full flight of stairs. Fuckin somersaulting down the stairs. The binder I was carrying broke open, papers went everywhere, my arm got cut open somewhere along the way and started bleeding. I get to the bottom, the other students are staring at me in horror, aforementioned counselor fuckin steps out of his office which is, of course, right at the bottom of the stairs, all concerned because what the fuck a kid just fell down the stairs, right? And so I, laying on the floor disoriented and laughing, declare, and I quote: “That was fun, let’s do it again!”- THE MOTHERFUCKING MAC AND CHEESE MUFFINS IN HIGH SCHOOL. Macaroni and cheese baked into the sweet batter of a muffin. I refused to touch the stuff but a friend of my did and it was bad enough he had to go to the trash can and fucking empty his stomach in it.- SAID FRIEND ALSO MANAGED TO GET A CARTON OF MILK THAT EXPIRED A MONTH BEFORE SCHOOL STARTED AT THE START OF ONE OF OUR YEARS IN HIGH SCHOOL and if I didn’t trust cafeteria food before that sealed the deal on me Never Trusting It Again- OH BUT SPEAKING OF CAFETERIA FOOD one time in the old school before the renovation, in like freshman year I think? I laughed so hard a piece of spicy chicken strip flew up my windpipe and got stuck in my nose and it was too big for me to snort out so I had to suck it back down and for the rest of the day all I could smell was burning- ON ANOTHER FOOD RELATED TOPIC down in the library I was on my iPad and 3DS because I had Long Since Given Up On School and some asshole dudes threw a rotting orange at me and it splattered all over the screens of both? So I picked up the remains and chucked it back at them and yelled “Do you wanna fucking NOT?” and they all ran off. The librarian heard me yell and saw me throw the orange back at them and she just didn’t give a fuck lmao- The librarians at my school were cool as shit really during one of our years we had to do x hours of volunteer work so I did some adjustments to the library catalogue for mine but the thing is I was fast enough at it that there really wasn’t enough to fill up my required hours so instead of giving me more to do they just sort of let me and my friends hang out playing Yu-Gi-Oh and called that good lmao. (For the record I only had one starter deck so I let my friend pick half of the cards and I would use the half she didn’t want. I managed to fuckin WRECK her with throwaways it was Iconicque)- OKAY ONE LAST LIBRARY STORY on the last day of finals I was hanging out in one of the smart tv rooms in the library right? My last finals weren’t for a few hours and lord knows I wasn’t gonna study, ADHD ass couldn’t do that and I’d already given up on school lmao. So I fucking... I brought my Wii U to school, hooked it up to the smart tv, and just started playing Splatoon there in the library. One of the librarians walked past to check on everyone, stopped at my room, watched me play for a minute (I noticed her and just sort of nodded and waved like ‘Sup’ so she Knew what was going on), and then just LEFT. Like, she didn’t give a fuck. Shoutout to the librarians, the Chillest- ALRIGHT LAST STORY LAST STORY I straight up never got all the credits I needed to graduate lmao. I was missing half a credit but they let me go anyway and to this day I cite the reason as being my high scores on the SAT/PSAT? I was the first student at the school in like, a decade, to have gotten an award from the National Merit Scholarship Corporation for my performance on them, and I guess they must have thought that me failing to graduate on time would look bad on them because, uh, yeah, it would, if people found out their teachers couldn’t handle a ~smart kid~ to the point that they did poorly enough to not even graduate with the rest of their class nobody would be willing to send their kids there lmao. And that’s the story of how I graduated when I wasn’t technically supposed to!!!

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? That’s a good fuckin question hey shit memory what was that thing that made us laugh so hard we couldn’t breathe again?...Don’t remember? Yeah I thought so lmaoI dunno, probably a joke in some let’s play? Or... god. Now that I think about it was probably the Slicer of T’pire Weir Isles moment actually. Holy shit, that was good.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried? That I’ve ever tried? Jesus, I dunno, I have issues with texture more than flavor. I Refuse to eat my mother’s stuffing because it’s literally just soggy ass bread. In terms of pure flavor alone? Her shepherds pie. It’s just... there is no flavor. It’s like eating cardboard. I’m begging you, De, use seasoning. If I ever have to eat shepherds pie that just tastes like tin from canned peas and vague hints of unseasoned beef again I’m going to go on a murderous rampage.That said? F in the chat to Cameron for that mac and cheese muffin. Rest in pieces

73. favorite weird flavor combo? GVFHDJBVDN JUST GONNA MAKE ME SHARE THE DILL PICKLE/CHOCOLATE PUDDING PACK COMBO FOR ALL THE WORLD TO SEE HUH

93. nicknames? Gar, Garn, Lane, Bill, Master, Pants, Shortpants. The first three are self-explanatory, first two are shortenings of my name and then my masc/surname. The latter four come from usernames of mine - Bill from Bill Ciforce (If you stack a Bill Cipher on top of two other Bill Ciphers, you get the Ciforce), Master, Pants, and Shortpants from MasterShortpants in reference to one of Link’s nicknames in Skyward Sword

95. favorite app on your phone? Does the internet app count? No? Lmao. Spotify I guess :p Need me some Tunes

#if you're on a version of the site that readmores don't work on i'm sorry #long post #ask game thyme

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serenzippity · 5 years ago

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Viva

Words: 3022 Member: Eventual Hyungwon/OC, mentions of Wonho/OC, OC/ OC Genre: Angst Warning(s): Mentions of DV

Chapter Two

August 16th, 2019 Starship Entertainment Seoul, South Korea

A soft knock interrupted the stagnant quiet of my office. Despite its relatively quiet manner it still slightly jolted me from my seat. “Come in,” I called out, doing a quick once over to make sure that the collar of my shirt was fully buttoned, and the sleeves weren’t riding up in a way that would expose the fading colors that painted my skin. I held in a disappointed sigh as the door opened, forcing my stoic façade to fall into place.

In the threshold stood someone who looked extremely familiar, yet I couldn’t wholly place him. He strolled into my office with an aura of superiority. Walking in like he owned the building, the handsome guy held his head up with a small smirk as he sat down in a chair on the opposite side of my desk. The room was suddenly full of him, permeating every corner of it with borderline arrogance and the tangible feeling of luxury. Everything about him screamed pretentious and expensive, something that I have grown used to in both my marriage and professional life.

He instantly reminded me of my husband’s rich CEO friends, and it took everything inside me not to roll my eyes as he relaxed in my chair.

“Can I help you?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow at both his suffocating attitude and his sudden intrusion without an explanation. He leaned back, as if making himself at home, and looked me up and down in appraisal. I caught the tick immediately, shooting him a glare when his eyes left my chest and met mine.

“I was wondering,” he lazily said, as if his voice was dipped in honey, “if my contract had anything in it about what I can and cannot do with my hair?”

The moment he mentioned his contract I realized who he was. I recognized him from the dance practice that I interrupted, passings in the halls, and his simple idol status. I had been working for Starship for a little over a year and until yesterday I never had an idol in my office, and within a span of 24 hours, I had two sitting in the chairs across from me.

While Hoseok was timid and gave me an impression of humility, Chae Hyungwon sat across from me and gave me an impression of vanity. It was an interesting dichotomy, especially considering their public personas and bandmate status.

“Let me pull up your contract Mr. Chae,” I said casually as I grabbed my tablet. I didn’t want to blatantly show that I thought he had a vaguely irritating presence, needing to maintain a sense of decorum.

“Please call me Hyungwon.” He smiled at me and peering over the edge of my iPad I could see that it was meant to charm my pants off. However, all I saw was a smile that screamed danger. I tore my eyes away from his annoyingly handsome face and clicked away on the pad in silence, looking for the clause in question.

Finding it, I maximized the document and slid it across the desk to him. “Alright Mr. Chae,” his smile fell a little bit when I didn’t call him by his first name and I took that as a personal win, “it says here that while you do have to consult the head of your styling team and Hongsik, you do have free reign on what you’d like to do for each comeback.”

He took the iPad, finally dropping the charming smile to look at it and giving me a chance to let go of a breath that I didn’t even realize I was holding in. I watched him as he read over the words, taking him in from head to toe for the first time. From his curly black hair down to his jean-clad legs, I could see why the masses of Monbebes fell to their knees for him. He was gorgeous I begrudgingly admitted, and I hated myself the moment the thought formed in my head.

“So,” he drolled, placing the pad back on my desk, “As long as I don’t shave all my hair off I’ll be okay?”

“I assume so yes. Is there anything else I can help you with Mr. Chae?” My tone was dismissive, and I wanted his oddly suffocating presence out of my office.

He just smiled at me and gave me a slight nod before getting out of the chair. He paused in the doorway, turning to look at me with a smirk. “Thank you, Mrs. Hamlin. If I need any more legal advice I will let you know.” And with that, he turned and walked away before I could even form a coherent thought in my mind.

I stared at the doorway for a couple minutes, still not fully processing what had just happened. I was frozen in shock as the gears in my mind refused to turn. It took the shrill tone of my office phone to wake me up from my trance. Jumping almost a foot in the air I scrambled to grab the receiver, thrusting myself quickly back into the swing of my work.

I looked at contracts for new dancers for a couple more hours, scratching and revising them with trained eyes and a steady red pen. Between the contracts, I had lunch with Seyoung, got yelled at by Mr. Park once more, and emailed Hongsik back and forth in regard to Hoseok’s dating provisos. It was a relatively typical day, punctuated once more by my constant switch between my heels and flats. The monotony was welcomed, and I felt that familiar sense of dread when the day began to wind down.

I was in the midst of revising my final contract when my phone dinged. I didn’t think much of it when I reached to pick it up until I saw that the message was from an unknown number.

I was about to ask who it was when another message popped up from the unknown number.

Once again it clicked in my mind. I was confused as to how he got my phone number, so I sent him a quick response. I sent a silent prayer in the hopes that I wasn’t right in my assumption, but it seemed like some malevolent source was looking over me lately.

I fell back into my chair with an audible groan. It was clear that my luck lately was going down the tubes. Seyoung poked his head around the corner at the noise, further pushing me into a pit of generalized annoyance. “You okay boss?”

“Yeah I’m fine,” I said tossing my phone on my desk and raking a hand through my hair. I was in desperate need of a break, a drink, or even just a small bubble bath. I don’t know why I was so stressed out just from my simple conversation with Hyungwon, but it was just adding to my ever-growing pile. “Hey, so Damien is going to be out of town tomorrow. Would you like to go to that restaurant you suggested? I’ve been thinking about it almost all day.” I tried to plaster on a genuine smile as I asked my assistant out to dinner, but I felt like it only came out as a grimace.

“Sure! Would you like me to call and make reservations? Does 7 work?”

I just gave him a nod and watched him go around the corner. I heard him pick up the phone and call the restaurant with his usual cheery tone. Another ping came from my discarded cell phone and I was contemplating turning the whole thing off so as to avoid any kind of contact with Hyungwon. Him texting me was unprofessional, and I was pretty sure I could get in trouble with casual contact with them. On the other hand, however, I was part of their legal team so a conversation with the idols was nearly impossible to avoid. I’ve been able to do so for the last year, so it was only a matter of time.

Plus, his question was seemingly innocent, so I figured that texting him whilst also keeping up decorum wouldn’t be the end of the world. I picked up my phone and saw a second text from the source of an oncoming migraine.

I rolled my eyes at his insistence. He was consistent I could give him that, but there was no way in hell I was calling him anything other than what propriety calls for. Deflecting, I sent him a quick answer to his original question. I couldn’t think of anything else that would put a quick death to this situation. Typing away, I sent him my opinion before placing my phone on airplane mode. But before I could tap on the little symbol, I got another text from him that signaled an uneasy end to the conversation.

My finger hovered over the little symbol as I looked at the eerily daunting face of the yellow emoji. I wasn’t sure why it made my stomach drop, but it did nonetheless. Taking a deep breath, I tapped the symbol and put my phone in my purse, lapsing into silence for the last half hour of work.

-x-

August 17th, 2019 Grand Kitchen Restaurant Seoul, South Korea

Whenever I put on a pair of heels I always made sure to send a curse towards the inventor of the damned things. I always hoped that they were rotting in hell for inventing the torturous devices. However, a little black dress and a pair of pumps always made me feel amazing despite my hatred for the latter. Feeling like a goddess always seemed to resonate the moment I stepped out of the house and into the waiting car. Lipstick and eyeliner in check, everything from the spritz of perfume to the expensive clutch was carefully coordinated. The goal was to turn heads, have a good dinner, and breathe during my weekend respite from work and my marriage.

It also helped to know that for one evening, I wasn’t going to have to put on the perfect wife charade.

Walking into the restaurant with Seyoung definitely helped to boost my confidence, especially when some patrons and even the snooty looking hostess had to do a double-take. Seyoung was arguably one of the most attractive and kind men I had ever been in the company of and being on his arm made my confidence soar. Thankfully his boyfriend let me steal him for the night.

With our heads tilted high, we were shown to our table in a more secluded part of the restaurant. I felt so lighthearted and happy for the first time in almost a week, relishing in the great company of my friend. I let Seyoung take the reins and order us drinks and appetizers while I caroused the menu.

Everything was going amazingly, from the delicious drinks to the savory abet tiny proportions. “I have a feeling we are going to want to get pizza after this,” I laughed over my second old fashioned of the night.

“I’m contemplating ordering another dish,” he said as he downed his drink in one gulp, a rosy flush coming to his cheeks.

“If I’m paying then by all means darling,” I told him with a wink as I raised my glass and killed it. I purposely purred out the term of endearment, putting a French-twist on it that sent us both into a fit of giggles.

The smile on Seyoung’s face was bright, but within a second it dropped like someone poured a bucket of water over his head. It was instantaneous and it caught my attention immediately as he honed in on something behind me. “Are you okay,” I asked, pausing my hailing of a waiter to take in the look of pure horror on his face.

“Please don’t look now Lux, but we have a slight problem.” The colors that previously tinted his cheeks were gone, and the nervous glint in his eyes had my mind running at a million miles a minute. Of course, my one night of freedom would come with some caveat.

“Seyoung what is wrong?”

“Uhm,” he quickly looked down at his plate and began to fiddle with his forks, putting on an unnatural look of indifference. He almost looked like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I think that is Hyungwon behind you.”

The moment he said that name my stomach dropped out of my body and onto the floor. I looked up at the ceiling with a pained sigh, wondering if it was just my luck or if someone was out to get me. Every rational part of my mind was telling me to not turn around and look at him. They were screaming at me to continue eating and ordering drinks until I forgot that Seyoung saw him.

However, the alcohol in my system muffled all the rational voices. The sweet amber liquid told me to turn around and look at his painfully handsome face. It was saccharine and almost bitter, but it held a strong grip on all my reflexes and emotions. In the end, the whiskey won out, and I begrudgingly turned to look behind me. The second my eyes locked on his curly dark hair I regretted every choice I had made thus far—from choosing this restaurant, to even the dress I was wearing—everything was soaked in instant regret.

He was sitting at another two-top with a woman who couldn’t have been anything less than a model. She looked like a fairy under the dim glow of the restaurant lights, her gold dress sparkling against her pale skin and red-painted lips. He was dapper in a fully black ensemble that added to his natural good looks. From his midnight button-up and blazer all the way down to his expensive loafers, Hyungwon was ethereal and dark. She looked like an angel while he looked like the devil incarnate.

“Shit,” I murmured turning back to Seyoung with a pained look on my face. “We cannot have another dating scandal on our hands.”

“What are we going to do?” he asked me with wide eyes, gripping his fork with white knuckles. Running a hand over my face, I looked around the restaurant as I formed a plan in my head. Pieces were being clicked in, held together by whiskey-flavored glue and bad ideas.

Sitting up straight, I took a sip of water and fixed my hair as I plastered on my signature stoic face. “Stay here,” I told Seyoung. He began to protest, but before he could get anything out I was already pushing out my chair and fixing my dress. I turned on my heel and began to make my way over to the corner of the room that held the unholy date. Adding a little pep to my step, I held my head high as I approached Hyungwon’s table.

His date noticed me before I did, giving me a curious once over before seemingly deciding that I was unwanted company and scowling at my impending intrusion. I came to stand in front of his table, arms crossed over my chest with my head cocked in question. Hyungwon noticed me when I fully approached, his knee-jerking smirk taking over as he stared directly into my blazing eyes.

“Do you think this is a good idea, Mr. Chae?” I asked bluntly, slightly tapping my foot against the ground.

“I don’t know what you mean Mrs. Hamlin,” he said as he leaned forward mockingly as he held his head up with his hand.

Raising an eyebrow, I glanced at his model-like date who was still giving me a nasty look. “I mean, do you really think it is wise to be on a date in a public place? I am already dealing with Hoseok’s potential scandal at the moment, and if memory serves, we had to deal with yours three years ago?” I gave him an unkind look at the final jab, pulling from his history to add the final knife into his current situation.

But rather than look irritated at having his past scandal brought up, Hyungwon bloomed at the mention. He gave me a dazzling smile that was almost blinding in the moody restaurant lights. He leaned back and chuckled, causing my already hazy mind to practically short circuit at how good he looked. I was stunned at his carefree reaction—almost stumbling backward in shock—but I was able to hold it slightly together.

“It’s fine noona,” he purred and once again I was at a loss for words, “I haven’t been caught yet. Besides both, Hyunwoo and Hongsik know I am here.” He ended his excuse with a wink, and my surprise melted away. In its place was pure fire and anger at his brazen attitude. I was disrespected enough at work by my superiors, and I was not about to let some flashy idol get the last word in.

“Wink at me one more time Mr. Chae and I will be filing a report against you with Mr. Park,” I growled the threat lowly, barely getting the words out through my clenched jaw. His proud look didn’t disappear completely, but it fell hard nonetheless which added to my currently skyrocketing confidence. “Furthermore, I am not your manager nor your handler Mr. Chae, but be warned that if I have to deal with another dating scandal, I will make your life a living hell. Are we clear?”

His smile was no longer dazzling, but it was still curved against his plush lips. He no longer looked cocky, but there was still a gleam behind his eyes that I couldn’t quite place. He seemed to take the threat well, at least as well as my now-sobering mind could comprehend. Hyungwon’s dark eyes locked in on mine and I felt my stomach lurch at the intensity within them. It was only for a second because the moment he opened his mouth the whole thing shattered.

“Crystal clear Mrs. Hamlin.”

A/N: Here is Chapter One! I’m hoping to get these out every Sunday night. I also tried something different with the messages in the story, so let know if you like the formatting or if I should try something different! Also I don't know if I made it clear but Lux does speak Korean. The entirely of this fic takes place with the general idea that they are speaking Korean unless stated otherwise! Gif is mine.

#monsta x #hyungwon #monsta x fanfic #monsta x fanfiction #hyungwon fanfic #hyungwon fanfiction #monsta x hyungwon #monsta x scenarios #mx

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psychospeak-blog · 7 years ago

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Nights with You

Warnings: Swearing

It had been a really strange day.

Not strange in that fact that weird things were happening. In fact, it was really an ordinary day in that sense. You'd gone to work as normal, moving easily throughout your day, and even been delighted to discover Starbucks was practically empty when you'd gone to grab an afternoon coffee. No, it was the weather than was strange. Hot and muggy, with barely any sunlight to be found, despite the fact that you felt a thin sheen of sweat break out across your skin whenever you'd stepped outside. It seemed, strangely ominous.

So, you really weren't surprised to see several dark storm clothes off in the distance when you stepped out of your office building at the end of the day, just hoping that you could get home before the rain broke free. It was windy as you drove home, the car shaking, yet no rain coming yet. It was starting to drizzle once you pulled into the parking lot of your apartment building, and you quickly gathered your files from the seat, hugging them to your chest as you pushed through the wind, your hair whipping wildly around you, until you were able to step inside, the door banging shut behind you.

"Getting stormy out there," your sweet older neighbor Bill asked you, as you stepped in next to him to check your mail, "You got candles and flashlights? I heard the power's already out in half the city. Likely to go out here, too." "I do," you confirmed, "How about You?"

"All set," he said confidentially, like he'd been planning for this moment for years. "You just come knock on my door if you need anything, alright, dear?"

"Sure," you confirmed, him tapping you on the shoulder as he passed by with his mail in hand, heading back to his apartment.

Collecting your own mail, you bypassed the elevator as the lights flickered, opting for the stairs. You weren't a big fan of elevators as it was, and no way were you going to risk getting stuck in that little metal box if the power went out. The lights flickered once more as you reached your floor, unlocking your door and stepping inside, startling when you saw a form sitting on your couch out of the corner of your eye, letting out a surprised gasp, your hand flying to your chest. "Jesus, Trav, you scared me."

"Welcome home," he said, his eyes darting away from the T.V.for a moment, still smashing buttons on the controller on his lap. Your little Havanese, Milo, jumped off the couch where he'd been next to Travis, trotting over to you and circling through your legs. You walked further into your apartment, looking to see some video game on the T.V., his Xbox laying on the carpet and connecting to your television by a cord. He was eased back into the cushions on your coach, legs crossed, set on your coffee table, just like he owned the place "What are you doing here?"

"The power's out at my place," he explained. " So you used the key I gave you for emergencies, to come over here just to just steal my power?"

" So, it was an emergency - It's a double XP day and I couldn't play without power," he said, "and, like, you were at work all day, so what else was I supposed to do?"

You laughed, flinging your key ring around on your finger. "I'm just going to take Milo out." "I just did, like, twenty minutes ago?" Travis said.

" You did?" "Mhm.." he nodded, not breaking his eyes from the TV, "it looked like it was going to start pouring, and I didn't know what time you were gonna be home, so.." he shrugged nonchalantly. You crossed the room, leaning over him on the couch and ruffled his hair, and he scowled because he hated it when you did that. "I guess you can stay then," you relented, and he turned his head, his hands still moving on the controller yet giving you his full attention as he kissed you. You really had no idea how he did that.

" Why don't you go shower?" He suggested, " I'll be done here by the time you're out and we can hang out." "Are you trying to tell me I stink?"

"Nah, you smell good actually," he seemed to close his eyes momentarily and inhale deeply, "Fresh, like rain. I just know that you like to shower before bed AND there's supposed to be a thunderstorm tonight and you're super freaky and are convinced you're going to get struck by lightening."

"It's a thing!" You said, laughing even as you made your way into your bedroom, grabbinga pair of pyjama pants and a cami, "The National Weather Service advises against it." "The National Weather Service," he scoffed. " It was on Mythbusters!" You yelled, disappearing into the bathroom and starting the shower.

"Nerd!" He called from the couch, and you could hear him even over the sound of the running water.

You had intended to shower quickly, but the warm water felt so good against your skin, and you realized you might have gotten a little more chilled on the walk from your car than you thought.

Just as you were beginning to try and psych yourself up to step out of the warmth, the room suddenly went dark.

" Oh, come on," you mumbled, shutting the shower off and stepping out onto the bath mat, trying to blink your eyes to adjust to the blackness. You dried yourself off as much as possible, and then reached for the doorknob to open the door, hoping that would help you see a little better, but was being turned from the other side. The door flew open, and you were immediately blinded by a bright light, your hands flying up to shield your eyes.

"Sorry," you head Travis say, but you still couldn't see him, blinking away the bright spots in your vision until you could see him, holding a flashlight, pointing it at the ground, this time. Now that you could see, you started gathering your clothes, letting the towel slide to the floor and pulling your PJ pants on. "Travis," you laughed when you noticed where the light was shining, "Would you stop it with the flashlight?"

"You want me to just leave you in the dark then?"

"If you want to help, you could shine it at my clothes so I can see what I'm doing, rather than just illuminating my boob." He laughed but kept it focused there, even as you pulled your tank top on.

"Hey," he said, sounding excited like he'd just discovered something cool, "If I shine this just like this, it totally makes your shirt see-through."

You laughed, because he was acting like a 13-year old boy who would do practically anything to see a pair of boobs, and not like he saw - and touched - yours on a regular basis.

"Can I have my flashlight back, please?" you asked, extending your hand, because you needed to go into the kitchen to try and figure out what the hell you were going to put together to eat for dinner now that you didn't have a stove. "Fine," he relented, but then smirked at you, "I'm just gonna use the light on my phone then."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head, but only laughed harder when you wanted him walk right in the couch, practically tumbling over the side. You couldn't resist when you say him get knocked off balance, pushing him so he faceplanted onto the couch.

"Hey," he chastised, immediately wrapping his arms around your legs, grabbing you behind the knees so your legs buckled, pulling you on top of him. And, then, of course, Milo jumped right on top of your back, seeing all of the excitement.

"Ah!" you squealed, shifting on top of him as he pressed playful, wet kisses, all over your face and chest. The moment was broken, however, with a loud, sudden, crash of thunder, Milo immediately running over to the door, barking and snarling.

"Shhh....it's okay," you said in a calm voice, getting up from the couch and picking up your dog, who gave a couple of more growls in your arms, his noise twitching.

You cradled him in one arm, and Travis gave him a little scratch behind the ears as you passed by, pulling the door of your fridge open to see it...much fuller than when you left it.

"Whaa---" you started, but Travis pushed passed you, pulling a pizza box out of the fridge, setting it on the counter, followed by several take-out containers.

"So, cold pizza, or cold Chinese?" he asked, and then started pulling more stuff out of the fridge, "Actually, I think there's pasta, too, and like, a quinoa salad or something?"

"Where did you get all this from?" "I brought it. From my place," he explained, "I didn't want it to all go bad. What do you have?"

"Uhh...goat cheese?" you said, "And a butternut squash." You'd been planning on making some type of pasta or grain bowl for dinner but, of course, now that the power was out, that wasn't happening now that you couldn't cook anything. Travis made a face," Yeah, you can let all that stuff rot," he said, "C'mon."

The three of you got set up in your bedroom, you holding Milo on your lap, arm tucked around him, petting him whenever he started shaking. You watched a couple of TV shows that Travis had saved onto his ipad, nibbling away on your dinner, illuminated by a couple of lit candles, a turned over flashlight, and the flickering light coming from the ipad. Eventually, the sound of the pounding rain outside was drowning out the sound of the show, and you shut it off, cleaning up your makeshift dinner, and grabbing a glass of wine, the goat cheese, a few crackers, and some chocolate for a midnight snack.

You got back in bed, half propped up on the pillows, half laying down, slipping a piece of chocolate in your mouth and letting it melt.

Travis was on his side, facing you, and gave you a curious look. "If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?"

You shut your eyes in contemplation, listening to the pouring rain, seeing the soft flicker of candlelight, your boyfriend and your pup curled up with you. "Here's good," you answered.

Travis laughed under his breath. "Why? It's so ugly outside."

"Because you're here." "D'awwee," He teased. " You could take me with you, though."

"Oh," you said, thinking, "I don't know." "France?" he suggested, "With your fancy-ass wine and cheese."

"It's a five dollar bottle of wine from Target," you laughed, "France would be okay though, but not Paris."

"Why not Paris?"

"It seems so....tourist-y and overdone?" you said, "If I'm going to go to all of France, Iwant to experience all of France, like the countryside and all of the cool little spots, not just get a picture of me with the Eiffel Tower, y'know?"

"Hmm...." Travis considered. "How about you?"

"Alaska," he responded right away. "I've always wanted to go to Alaska." "Alaska?" you asked, "You're complaining about the rain here, and you want to go to Alaska?"

"Yeah, on one of those wilderness adventure tours," he said, "You can see bears, and go traversing, and there's boat tours so you can go whale watching. You'd like it."

"Would I now?" you asked playfully. "Mhmmm..." he murmured, snuggling closer to you, "I look really cute in a parka."

You laughed against him, another crack of thunder crashed overhead, and Milo huffed, pushing between your bodies and burying his head in your chest.

"What about you, dude?" Travis asked, in a voice that he had reserved only for use with dogs. Seriously, you'd heard him talk to babies in a more serious tone. "Where'd you like to go? Anywhere but here?"

You were both quiet for a moment as a flash of lightning illuminated the room from behind the curtains, and then Travis sucked in a gasp like the lightning had inspired a light bulb moment. "We should go camping!"

"Camping?" you asked with a laugh. Truth be told, you'd never been camping in your entire life. Other than sleepovers in a tent in a backyard.

"Yeah," Travis said, "It'd be fun. We could go to a lake, get a canoe. Get this guy one of those little doggie life jackets and he can come with us. We could even go fishing and then cook it all up over the campfire for dinner." "That sounds like a lot of work."

"But it's fun," he complained, "you wouldn't even have to do anything. Just sit there and...sun yourself or whatever, and make sure this guy doesn't jump overboard." He said the last part while rubbing Milo's head.

"Why do I feel like you would push me overboard?" you said, laughing, knowing that he'd probably do just that, but end up tipping the whole canoe over, and then you'd all end up in the lake.

"I would never do that," he said, looking offended, "That's what oars are for. For splashing people." "You're such a jerk sometimes," you laughed.

"I haven't even done anything yet," he protested. "You know where else I want to go? Carlsbad."

"Carlsbad? Like in California?" "Yep." "What's there?"

"Legoland," he answered, not even trying to stop the smile from appearing on his face.

"Legoland," you repeated, "You want to go to Legoland?" "Yes, it looks fucking awesome, there's..."

You held up your hand right there, "Pretty sure you're not allowed to say the F-word in Legoland."

He rolled his eyes. "Freakin' awesome then. There's that whole Ninjago area, and there's a Starwars section, and you can even dig for dinosaur fossils." "You've really researched this."

"Yeah," he said, "Honestly, I was going to wait until we had kids. But, we'd probably have to wait until they were, like, two or three, which takes forever. So, we should really go scope it out first."

You were smiling at the thought of you running around Legoland with a little one of your own one day, when Travis spoke again, "Actually, do you think your sister would let us borrow her kids for day or two?"

"Do I think my sister would allow us to give her a couple of kid-free days to run the energy out of them?" you asked, "Yeah, I somehow think she'd be cool with that." "Awesome," he smiled.

"You know where I've always wanted to go actually?" "Where?"

"Bora Bora," you said. It was a pipe dream really. But something about sleeping right on the water and getting lost in paradise really appealed to you. So, you fell asleep, curled up, daydreaming together, and pretending that the sound of the rain falling outside was just crashing waves.

#travis konecny imagine #travis konecny #nhl imagines #nhl one shot #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #hockey imagines #hockey imagine

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maladaptive---daydreamer · 7 years ago

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#VeryBothered

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x reader

Summary/Request: A bunch of people asked for a part two to #Unbothered so here it is.

Word Count: 3130

A/N: Italics indicate a shift in perspective. This was meant to be fluff but it turned out to be the complete opposite. #sorrynotsorry

Hair? Check.

Makeup? Check.

Purse? Check.

Card, just in case? Check.

Keys? Check

You heard the honk of the horn of your cab and rushed out of your house. Once you’d sat down in the backseat and told the driver your destination, your phone went off - Damon.

Damon: What are you doing tonight?

Y/N: Got a date. Sorry babe xx

Damon: Biggest eye roll in history.

Y/N: Did you really just full stop me? Wow, Damon

Damon: Send me your location in case you need an emergency pick up

Y/N: Yes sir

You used the send location feature and then locked your phone, sliding it into your clutch bag. It had been 4 months since you met Damon and found out about his abilities. Since then the two of you had become best friends. Your friendship came easily and you two bounced off each other’s sarcastic comments and sexual minds.

You were on your way to a date with a guy you met in the men's department of H&M. You gave him advice on a few t-shirts and he asked for your number. He told you to meet him at an upscale burger joint 20 minutes from your house. The cab driver dropped you off at the kerb right outside the burger place. You quickly paid him and got out of the cab to see your date, Ryan, smoking a cigarette outside.

“Hey, Y/N”

“Hey” You replied, hugging him and kissing his cheek.

He killed his cigarette and threw the butt into a bin before leading you into the restaurant.

“I hope you like burgers,” He said with a smile as you waited for your table.

“pizza and burgers are my go to”

“Burger Boutique? what kind of name is that for a burger place?” Damon scoffed.

“Will you just admit to yourself that you're jealous?” Stefan replied leaning back in his seat.

“I am not jealous, Stefan, I'm just annoyed that this guy is taking my best friend, whom I care for dearly, to the shittest place possible for a first date”

“No, you're annoyed that the woman you love is out on a date with another guy because you were too scared to make a move.”

“Y’know brother, you might just be onto something here”

“Aren’t I always?”

Damon flicked his middle finger up as he collected his car keys and left the house. He got into his car and set the GPS for the restaurant. Once he was there he threw his keys into the valet’s hand and picked up a random ticket stub from the stand. He walked in and scanned the restaurant to see where they were seated.

“Hi, welcome to Burger Boutique, I’m Clara. Can I have your reservation name please?”

“Not here on a reservation here to see a friend”

“Well I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until your friend leaves sir, I can’t let you past this point without a reservation.”

Damon growled in frustration before putting his hands on the hostess’ face and compelling his entrance.He spotted the two of them giggling away in the corner of the restaurant and his inquisitiveness got the better of him as he strained to listen to their conversation over the music and chatter.

“So my boss just walks out of his office with coffee all down his shirt and the client walks out a few seconds later holding a cheque and his brand new coffee machine”

“I would kill to work in your office”

“I could sort out a transfer you know. I mean you're great at what you do and our company could really use someone as driven and ambitious as you.”

“I’ll think about it”

It took Damon a moment to realise that he needed to distract Y/N and so he sent her a quick text about an emergency and her needing to call him. He watched as her phone went off and she checked it. She apologised and went into the ladies bathroom.

Damon took this as his chance and went to the table sitting in Y/N’s seat.

“Yo dude, my date’s supposed to be sitting there”

“Your ‘date’ just so happens to be the love of my life so you're going to tell her somethings come up and leave. Do you understand?” Damon said staring into Ryan’s eyes.

Damon got up and returned to his spot hidden in the restaurant. He watched as she Sat down and Ryan quickly blurt out his excuse. He dropped 2 fifties on the table and rushed out leaving Y/N there extremely confused. Damon followed Ryan out and stood outside the restaurant waiting for her to come out. She came out with her head down and Damon took this as his queue to make his presence known.

“Shit date?” He asked.

You looked up and saw Damon standing with his hands in his pockets.Your head dropped again as you laughed out a ‘yeah’

“Why don’t we go to the bar-”

“What are you doing here? I thought you said that there was an emergency? I went to call you back and when you didn't answer I went back to the table to see Ryan had gone too”

The realisation dawned on you.

“You’re a complete and utter ass. I hope you rot.”

“Y/N-”

“Don’t even think you can talk to me. Leave me the fuck alone, Damon”

“We can talk this out”

“You fucking wish. Go run back to Elena you son of a bitch.”

To your luck, a cab was driving past and you quickly hailed it asking the driver get you away from Damon as fast as he could.You were seething. You spent the entire car ride with your hands fisted. You wanted nothing more than to punch the bastard in his smug face but you knew you’d end up needing to drink his blood again, something that was no longer a rare occurrence. The cab driver dropped you off and gave you the ride on the house thinking that you had just broken up with your boyfriend. You gave a half smile as you trudged back into your house wanting nothing more than to sleep.

Damon was selfish. You knew that. You just didn’t think that he’d stop you from getting your happiness.

You spent the next week avoiding Damon and Damon related activities. No boarding house, no grill, no hospital, no police department. You went from home to work and from work to home. no stopping unnecessarily which worked for Monday through Saturday but then Sunday rolled around, your boss insisted that you take a day off work and refused to pay you for any overtime you did on Sunday so you were forced to stay home. You woke up at 7 am and cleaned your house from top to bottom. At midday, you stopped cleaning, showered and went grocery shopping. You dropped off the groceries and put them away before feeling brave enough to venture out to get some pizza as a treat for avoiding Damon the whole week.

All it took was a quick car ride to Tony's and then a 2-minute walk to the park to enjoy your pizza pie and a bottle of Lorraine's freshly made lemonade. You parked your car up and walked into Tony's. The smell of freshly baked pizza invaded your nostrils and you immediately felt welcome. Due to the popularity of Tony's restaurant, it was hard for him to amass regulars like other pizzerias but you were one of the very few people who made it to regular status. Regular status meant that there was always a bottle of lemonade and a slice of tiramisu and cheesecake on hold for you.

"Aye, Y/N!"

"Hey Marcus, where's your dad?"

"Doctors appointment. You want the usual?"

"please"

Marcus nodded and called your order out. You took a seat on one of the stools as you waited for your pizza to be made.

"Where's Damon at?"

"He and I are in an argument right now."

Marcus nodded and didn't press any further. Instead, he unlocked his phone and began texting someone else. 10 minutes later your pizza was ready and you headed over to the park.

You found an empty picnic table under a tree and set your stuff down. You opened up your iPad to a new episode of a show you were watching and took a slice of your pizza.

Moments later the sun that was coming from behind you was blocked and a man sat in front of you on the other side of the bench.

"You've been avoiding me"

"Gee I wonder how you got that impression?"

"Y/N, I'm sorry"

"I liked him, Damon, I really did. He was smart, funny, driven. He liked the same shows as me and hated mushroom on pizza like me too. I really felt like we could have had a relationship. Now you've probably compelled him to choke on his tongue when he's 10 feet near me."

"I just couldn't let him be with you"

"Why, because Elena left you for your brother and now you're alone and so now everyone else needs to be alone too? I'm not putting my life on hold for you, Damon. Unlike you, I don't have the rest of eternity to spend wasting my life away. In 60-70 years I'll be dead. I will not spend those years alone because my best friend couldn't find someone to be with."

"I like you god damn it. No, I love you. I found you sexy from the moment you told me to fuck off that night and I fell for you the moment you trusted me not to kill you. You of all people know how hard it is for me to love. I get obsessed, I go crazy. I become weak. But if all of that is to be with you I don't care."

"No way, you're not guilt tripping me-"

"How am I guilt tripping you?"

"You want me to feel pity for you and you want me to be like' Oh Damon I love you too let's go back to your house where I spend the entirety of our relationship wrapped in wool and forbidden from doing anything.' Not today, Satan, not today"

"Did you just call me Satan?"

"Yeah because you're a devilish prick"

"We're going off topic here"

"What do you want me to say to you? That I love you too? You can hear from my heartbeat that I'm lying."

"I want you to say that it's okay. That what I did is justified and that you'll give me a chance."

"What you did isn't okay. You put your feelings before mine and meddled with my love life. You compelled the one guy that I thought I had a connection with into leaving me mid way through our date. Do you know how fucking embarrassing it is to have to ask for the bill after every single waitress and waiter just saw the guy you were having dinner with bolt out? No, you don't because you're Damon Selfish Salvatore. Nothing can justify what you did. Nothing"

"I haven't felt like this for anyone else except Elena-""

Here we go with the Elena BULLSHIT. Elena this, Elena that. Elena would run through the forest with me. Elena would stake a guy. Elena wouldn't think this irrationally. News fucking flash Salvatore, I'm not Elena. I won't be Elena, I won't like Elena. I won't replace Elena."

"I'm not asking you to"

"Are you sure, because throughout our friendship she's come first. Like that night I called in a code blue and you blew me off. I had to spend the anniversary of my grandmother's death alone because Elena needed a shoulder to cry on. Or the night I was at a work party and my car wouldn't start. 'Sorry Y/N, I can't make it. Elena's here and she's really sad.' Or there was the night I got attacked by a vampire when I was on the way to see you and your brother was the one who saved me. Your brother was the one who made me drink his blood so that I wouldn't bleed out on the sidewalk. You wanna know why Stefan was the one to save me, Damon?"

Damon stared down at the grass.

"Because you were too busy with your head up Elena's ass that you completely forgot we were going out to celebrate my promotion. So you tell me that I'm not just a replacement for her"

“You're not. You never will be. I only loved Elena because of my obsession with Katherine. She means nothing to me. I swear to you. Please just let me make this up to you.”

“Damon, I’m not going to give you false hope. I don’t know where this leaves us. I don’t know if I still want to be your friend.”

“I understand. But Friday night. I’m going to have your date all set up. If you find it in your heart to forgive me and give me a chance I’ll be waiting all night”

“Damon-”

But he had already gone. Leaving you an angry, emotional wreck. You slammed the lid of your pizza box shut and angrily shoved your things back into your bag before stomping back to your car and driving back home.

You walked into the kitchen to drop off your pizza box to see flowers on the kitchen counter.

“Please, I’m begging you, forgive me. D”

You scrunched up the note and were about to throw the vase on the floor when the vase went from mid air back onto the counter.

“I never invited you in”

“Yes, you did when I had to carry your limp corpse back home.”

“Fuck now both of your crazy Salvatores are allowed in my safe haven.”

“I take it your conversation with Damon went well.”

“Fucking amazing”

“Damon is never the best when it comes to conveying emotion. When he has feelings towards someone he doesn't act right.”

“He embarrassed me on my date with a guy I really liked!”

“I understand your frustration, but at least consider coming on Friday.”

“Stefan”

“He loves you, Y/N. I know you don’t feel the same and you never viewed him in that way but at least give him a chance.”

“I did. In the beginning, I liked him, a lot. But Elena was in the way, so I got over him and Ryan was the first guy I felt a genuine attraction to and could see myself falling in love with him.”

“That’s good, we can work on that”

“No, we can’t Stef. I had feelings for him and I had to get over them because there was someone else in the picture. When the roles are reversed he uses his stupid vampire bullshit to get the other person out of the picture. Don’t you see how unfair that shit is?”

“It’s going to take me time to figure things out. I don’t even know if I want to figure things out”

“Y/N, please”

“Get out, Stefan”

“Just think about it.”

“My answer won’t change.”

Stefan nodded and left, vase in tow.

Damon woke up on Friday morning with the same soulless feeling. It had been 6 days since he last spoke to Y/N and it was really taking its toll on him. He picked up the bourbon bottle from next to him and took a long swig. He held the bottle while he went downstairs to give his bottle a companion. As he walked past the foyer he saw an envelope on the floor with his name on it.

The bourbon bottle fell out of his hand and shattered just like his heart. He numbly walked up to the envelope and ripped it open.

Damon,

I don’t know how to start with this. I’m just so angry and frustrated and sad.

I don’t know if you knew but in the beginning, I had a little crush on you. It was silly really but I saw the way you looked at her so I got over it. You’d expect me to be over the moon at the fact that you reciprocate my feelings, stronger. But I’m not.

It hurts to know that I am just second best. I’m the backup, the consolation prize if you will.

You're probably denying it all in your head right now, but we both know it's true. If you really cared for me I wouldn’t be the one on the sidelines, I’d be playing in the game with you. (I don’t know where that sports reference case from, what the fuck)

I’m not coming to your date tonight. I thought I’d just save you the trouble. You won’t be seeing my sexy face, I'd be pretty upset too. Actually, you won’t be seeing me around town for some time actually. I’m going back home (like to my parents). I've worked some stuff out with work and they're letting me work from home. I need to clear my mind and get away from all the drama of this town. I hope you understand, and if you don’t then you can fuck yourself with a bottle Hennessy.

See ya on the flipside, I hope.

Love From

Y/N

P.S Burn this once you’ve memorised it (I know you well enough to know that when you get Like This you do weird shit), no one can know what a softie I am.

Damon wanted so much to scrunch the letter up and burn it but instead, he found himself back in his room folding the letter up and placing it into his wallet. He packed up a bag wrote a quick note to Stefan of his plans before sliding behind the wheel of his car with his switch flipped.

Both of you had left your hearts in Mystic Falls and only time could tell if the two of you would be back to collect them.

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