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tojitiddies · 4 years ago

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✰ TEACH

pairing ⋆ toji fushiguro x fem!reader

synopsis ⋆ in all your years of teaching you’ve never encountered a parent like toji.

warnings ⋆ vaginal sex, oral sex, creampie, dacryphilia if you squint, dumbification

ꔵ the first time you ever saw toji fushiguro was around second month of school, when megumi had began acting up in class. you knew megumi to be a spoiled rich kid, as he was always being dropped off and picked up in sleek black cars with tinted windows, along with his older sister tsumiki. sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of the driver if megumi ever needed assistance getting his bag out the car, but that was the only semblance of adult supervision you’d seen megumi receive outside of school faculty.

megumi was always dressed crisply and his meals efficiently packed. he really didn’t seem to understand the concept of sharing or caring and relied on his tiny fists to solve conflicts. this was all a stark contrast to his sister tsumiki, seeing as his older sister’s teachers only sang her praises. truly you had tried to get through to the seven year old, but out of all the trouble makers you’d ever taught, megumi really liked to work your nerves.

which brought you here, at a parent-teacher conference with megumi’s father, toji fushiguro. his large figure looked comical as he sat in one of the small plastic, colored chairs, usually inhabited by first graders of course. he wore a plain black t-shirt and white slacks. he also had a black blazer that he he had draped over the side of his chair. the side of his lips was decorated with a menacingly large scar that twitched occasionally as he listened to you speak.

“... all i want is for megumi to have a good time here in first grade. i know he and his sister are new so making an adjustment may be difficult, but i’d like to make the transition for young megumi as smooth as possible.” you finished as you fiddled with your fingers.

toji shifted in his chair with a slight grunt. “mrs. ____ is it?” he asked. you shook your head.

“just miss actually.” you corrected him shyly. his entire demeanor was so intimidating you didn’t want to insult him. you almost miss the mischievous glint in his eye as you lift your eyes to face him again.

“i understand your concerns with my son. i had no idea what a little shit he was being. especially to such a beautiful young woman as yourself.” his tone is suggestive, contradicting the polite smile adorning his lips.

you smiled uncomfortably. “thank you, but i would never think of your son as...a little shit. i’m sure he has a sweet side somewhere. which is why, i thought maybe megumi could benefit from some sort of counseling?” you suggested, pushing forward a slip of paper. toji leaned forward taking the document from the desk and began to read over it, his brow quirking up in interest. “alongside being a first grade teacher i also serve as a counselor here at the elementary school.” you began to explain. “although i’ve never counseled a student of my own in fear of bias, i think it would be wise if megumi had someone whom he was acquainted with.”

toji set the slip back down and set his gaze on you. you squeezed your thighs together as he fixed you with his stare. he really was intensely attractive. “hm, how unfair is it that my son gets more alone time with you than i do?” this time he smirked. so it wasn’t your imagination, he was flirting with you.

“mr. fushiguro?”

“i’m only teasing teach.” he chuckled. “i agree. i think we could all benefit from megumi’s counseling,” he folded his arms over his broad chest, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt. “so when does he start?” your eyes zoned in on toji’s biceps before blinking back up at him he pretended not notice you ogling him. “ah well...next wednesday perhaps? all i need is for you to sign the slip.” you said sliding him a pen from your desk.

your fingers brushed against his as he took the pen. you tried to ignore it, knowing he was probably only try to get a rise out of you. he began to scribble his signature, once he finished he stood up from his seat and you followed suit. “thank you mrs. ____ for contacting me.” he said, holding out his hand for you to shake.

you took it, letting his large hands envelope yours. “ah...again it’s just ms. ____. i’m not married.” you corrected him again with a lighthearted laugh. toji smirked at that before he leant in towards you. startled, you froze, afraid he might kiss you, until you realized he was only leaning towards your ear. “we’ll be in touch then, ms. ____.” he spoke in a lower tone. you were left standing there completely dumbstruck as he retrieved his blazer and threw it over his shoulder.

“yes...” you murmured quietly in response as he left you alone in the classroom.

ꔵ three months into counseling with megumi you had begun to see progress. his angered outbursts only came in waves and he had stopped using his hands and started using his words. his attitude toward you had also warmed up and he had even began giving you hugs. you were happy all the exercises you’d been working on with him were finally starting to pay off.

the only big issue? his father.

every time you spoke to him there was always a flirty or suggestive undertone. he never crossed the line but he would constantly get close to doing so. there was one counseling session a couple weeks ago when he came to pick up megumi (something he had suspiciously started doing ever since your counseling had started). you were both standing outside the door of the classroom, with megumi inside coloring, as you briefed toji on his counseling session.

“so he’s doing well then, i’m glad. but how are you doing teach? i know dealing with these little brats all day can’t be good on your stress.” he said, resting his hand on your forearm. you glanced down at his thumb caressing your skin before laughing nervously, brushing his hand down. “ah...really i’m alright mr. fushi - “

“i’ve told you to call me toji.” he interrupted, his voice dropping to that low tone once again.

you cleared your throat, trying to settle the butterflies that formed in your stomach. “thank you toji. but really i don’t mind it. i’ve been doing this for almost eight years now..” you tried your best not to let your voice waver under this suggestive tension.

toji stepped forward, the space between the both of you becoming almost non existent as your breasts came in contact with his chest. “well just know teach...” he murmured, lifting his fingers to your chin, “if you ever need any stress relief - “

“papa!”

you jumped back from toji like a frightened feline, while toji stood in place clearly unfazed by his child’s sudden presence. you’d been so focused on trying not to jump toji’s bones right then and there, you hadn’t even noticed megumi open the classroom door. “can we go home now? i’m hungry.” he whined, brandishing a cute pout on his face.

you couldn’t help but smile at the cute kid. toji bent down and picked him up, resting him on his hip. “hungry huh? well you can eat this knuckle sandwich for interrupting ms. ____ and i.” he teased, playfully twisting his fist into megumi’s face. megumi giggled slapping away his large hand before turning to look at you. “sorry ms. ____.” he apologized sweetly. yet another skill he’d learned from his counseling sessions.

you grinned and leaned forward to pinch his cheek. “don’t worry about it lovebug! it wasn’t that important anyway.” you chirped, glancing over at toji to see his lips twitch into a frown. you held back a giggle at how identical his pout was to little megumi’s. you leaned into the classroom to take megumi’s backpack off the hook, which toji took and swung over his free arm.

“say goodbye to ms. ____, megumi.” toji instructed. megumi raise his arm to wave, which you met with a small high five instead. “i’ll see you in the morning megumi!” you cheered. toji glanced back at you briefly. “don’t forget about my offer ms. ___.” he said with a wink, before turning back around and walking off with his son.

once he and megumi were out if sight you fell back against the classroom door with a whine. toji fushiguro would truly be the end of you.

ꔵ the afternoon sun shone through your window as you finished up the last of your student reports. as you began to pack up, you heard a knock at your classroom door. “come in!” you called out, not bothering to look up from your work.

you sighed as you gave up on organization and just began to sweep the papers into a folder, but before you could finish, a large hand fell on top of yours. you let out a yelp, looking up to find toji fushiguro smirking down at you. he looked as though he’d come straight from work, blessing you with a tight button down shirt and black slacks. god, he was a work of art.

“afternoon teach.” he greeted you.

“mr. fushiguro what a surprise. what are you doing here? megumi’s gone home already hasn’t he?” you asked, trying to keep calm as a million more thoughts raced through your mind.

“ah, that’s right. he’s long gone. ‘s just you and me.” he said as he fixed you with his strong gaze, his hand closing around yours. “i came because i wanted to thank you. i haven’t seen megumi like this in awhile. i know this was mostly a school thing, but he’s been less of a little shit at home too,” he informed you, his thumb slowly caressing your hand.

you were becoming putty under his touch. “yes...i’m glad gumi’s doing do well at home too. all i want is the best for him.” you answered, stumbling over your words a bit. toji brought your hand up to his lips kissing your knuckles. “mhm...so i was wondering if you’d thought about my offer?” he asked, looking back at you through those lustful eyes.

“mr. fushiguro - “

“toji.”

“t-toji...i’m delighted you would pay me a visit simply to thank me, but it really isn’t necessary.” you could feel his aura start to envelope you, the tension between you two thickening with lust. the most he’d done was kiss your knuckles and already you were trying to keep from rubbing your thighs together.

still holding firmly onto your hand, toji began to walk around your desk. “ms. ____, i insist you let me properly thank you because i feel you’re deserving of it. do you not?” he murmured, gingerly pulling you up out of your seat, guiding your hand towards his chest. your fingers instinctively hooked around the fabric where he’d left his shirt unbuttoned. his other arm snaked its way around your waist.

“toji...we shouldn’t. this is highly unprofessional, i could get fired. and what about megumi?” you rambled, trying to keep your composure. toji leaned down and began to press sweet wet kisses down your neck. you sighed out, letting your hand fan out across his chest.

“megumi will be fine teach. no one has to know anything as long as you can keep a secret. now let me take care of you.” he whispered, licking a stripe up your neck. his knee came to situate between your thighs, you wasted no time grinding against him. a soft moan escaped your lips as you let your head fall back against your shoulders.

“kiss me...please?” you mumured, hooking your arm around his neck. toji’s scar twitched as his lips formed a smirk. he lifted his head, grazing your lips against his before pressing forward. the kiss was rough and sensual, both of you devouring each other in a clash of lips and tongue. you moaned into his mouth, continuing to grind against his thigh. when your lips finally separated, a string of saliva connected you before dripping down onto your blouse.

“enjoying my thigh teach?” he taunted, flexing his thigh muscles and causing you to let out a breathy moan again. “y-you’re teasing me.” you whined desperately trying to grind your clothed clit against his thigh muscles. the hand on your waist slid down taking your thigh and pinning it to his waist, granting you better access. “so needy for me hm?” he murmured into your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth. “tell me what you want baby.”

your hand fisted his collar as you desperately ground yourself against him. “please fuck me toji. i can’t take your constant teasing anymore.” you whimpered, nuzzling into his shoulder. toji chuckled at that before reaching behind you, clearing your desk in one fell swoop. papers and files fluttered to the ground as he lifted you up on top of your desk, spreading your legs.

you both hastily begin unbuttoning your shirts, one of your buttons popping off in the frenzy. toji chuckles as he lowers himself to his knees, his chest muscles rippling as he moves. “i can’t believe you have the nerve to walk around in a tight little skirt like this.” he laughs wickedly, sliding up your pencil skirt until it bunches up at your waist. you feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment as the wet spot in your panties becomes noticeable. toji slides his finger up your covered folds, the slick coating his finger prints. “how lovely.” he purrs to himself.

“please...” you whine breathily, scooting forward hoping he’d take the hint. he chuckles darkly blowing against your clothed clit before pulling aside your underwear to marvel at your dripping cunt. “look at that.” he marvels before letting his tongue dip between your folds. you let out a choked moan. it had been so long since you’d been touched this way by someone other than yourself, it felt like heaven. he paused only to hook his fingers around your panties and discard them who knows where.

just as quick as he was gone, he’s back to hungrily bury his tongue in your cunt, switching between prodding your hole with his tongue and sucking your clit. your fingers fisted his raven hair, as you loudly praised his skill through moans and chants. the wet sounds of him slurping and licking up your arousal egged you on to grind against his mouth. waves of arousal just keep coming, whatever his tongue couldn’t catch dripping onto the desk.

your thighs threatened to close around his head as you felt yourself coming close to climaxing. “fuck stop! toji i’m gonna cum,” you whine out, weakly trying to push his head away. you hear him hum in amusement as he instead, moves his hands up to spread your thighs back further. his tongue works your hole, slowly spreading it wider before he’s able to curl his tongue inside. you let out a loud cry, your hips jerking and bucking as you’re overwhelmed with pleasure. your vision spots as you cum all over his tongue, your thighs threatening to snap around his head but his hands keep you in place.

toji finishes licking up the rest of your arousal before rising up from between your legs, towering over your trembling figure. one hand comes up to your chin, roughly tilting your head up to look directly at him. “open,” he commands, to which you obey immediately. your tongue rolls out lewdly as he spits your arousal down your throat. “good girl,” he purrs. “now turn around, i’m about to fuck the living daylights out of you.”

eagerly you turn around on your stomach, thankful for the desk supporting your torso as your sure your wobbly legs would not be able to. you hear toji unbuckling behind you as your spread your legs slightly, swaying your hips hoping to entice him to move a bit faster. toji’s hands come to spread over the globe of your ass cheeks, kneading them in his palms.

“you’re so fucking sexy. i’m sure you already know ever since we’ve met this ass has been all i ever think about.” he chuckled, letting his hardened cock slide back and forth between your folds. you let out a whine moving your hips back against him. “i want you to fill me up so badly, please hurry.” your croak out, your voice hoarse from your previous climax. toji brings down his hand against your ass harshly, receiving a yelp in response. “and who you do you think you are ordering me, huh teach? i’m not one of your little first graders baby,” he grunts, spreading your ass cheeks again, letting the tip of his cock tease your aching hole.

“beg for it.” he taunts in a sing-song tone, sliding his cock up and down and against your cunt. your let out a small puff of air as you turn your head back to look at him with your pleading eyes. “please toji...please stuff me full. i haven’t been fucked in so long i wanna be filled up please.” you whimpered, your hips stuttering against his cock, now lubed up with all the juices he’d collected. your begging seemed to please toji, his scar twitching as his lips formed a smug smirk. “good girl.”

toji slammed his cock inside you, no regard for easing you on to his length whatsoever. tears pricked your eyes at the sharp pain, your insides spasming around him. “shit, you feel like a fucking virgin squeezing me so tight. you weren’t kidding about not being fucked in so long, hm?” he chuckled. you didn’t get the chance to respond as he was already pulling out to slam back in. it hurt so good, the pain and the pleasure of being stretched around his girth. he continued to thrust harshly inside your cunt only receiving broken moans and strings of curses from your lips.

his hand came to your hair, his fingers roughly grabbing your head back. your arousal began to return once more, dripping down his cock and making the most obscene squelching and sucking noises. “such a naughty teacher, letting a parent fuck her right in the classroom, huh?” toji’s gruff voice came from behind you. you whined, one of your hands reaching behind you to spread your ass cheeks to grabt him more access. “feels so fucking good, fuck me harder, please.” you manage to say through clenched teeth. “harder baby? you got it.”

before you can even think to react, his arms come to circle around your thighs, lifting you up against his chest. you let out a small cry, your arm instinctively circling around his neck for upper support. toji holds you up, legs spread over his cock. the cool air of the classroom hits your clit causing you whine out in frustration. toji chuckles. “impatient, are we teach?” he murmurs before ramming his hips up into you, his cock sliding back in immediately. “fuck!” you blurt out in surprise.

this new position had him hitting you in places no one had ever discovered and your tits bouncing up and down with fervor. your cunt fluttered, hearing his grunts so much closer to your ear. your lips fall slack, your tongue rolling out ever so slightly as he fucks you dumb. everything just feels so fucking good. “fuck keep squeezing around me just like that teach, i’m gonna cum.” he growls into your ear “fuck...stuff me full of your cum t-toji,” you sob, feeling yourself come closer to your second climax as well.

you bring your free hand down to your clit, rubbing it slow in contrast his quick thrusting. you wanted to savor this feeling. “god, keep touching yourself just like that baby,” he moans, swiveling his head to sink his teeth into to your shoulder. everything seems to slow, the pleasurable drag of his hardened cock against your walls, him hitting your spot just right, the way you sucked him back in as he pulled out...

“toji i’m - “ you can’t even finish before a wave of pleasure knocks over you, your vision spotting once again as he brings you to your climax for a second time. toji continues to fuck into you faster chasing his own high before you feel the spurts of thick cum filling your insides. you’re barely able to think, your fucked out daze taking over. you barely notice him move you off his softening length to set you down. you immediately grab ahold of him, your legs unable to support you at the time. you can feel his cum and your arousal begin to trickle out from your cunt, earning a satisfied whine from your lips. toji laughs softly, leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead. “i haven’t had a good fuck like that in awhile. you were better than i imagined, taking me like that.” he spoke, his voice sounding muffled to you as your daze still hadn’t worn off. you hum softly nuzzling into his warm chest.

toji bites his lip as he looks down at you, you’re just so fucking cute clinging to him that way. he lifts you up on to the desk, carefully dressing you back up. he can’t find your panties so he just pulls you skirt back down from where it had gathered at your waist. he tucks your breasts back into your bra and picks up your blouse from the floor. he smirks at the missing button, doing what he can to close your blouse back up.

you smile gently, watching toji perform his aftercare. this must be the fatherly side of him you rarely get to see. after he’s finished dressing you both back up, he sets his gaze back on you. “so, i’ll see you next wednesday ms. ____?” he asks, settling back into his usual smug demeanor. you scoff before muttering out a small confirmation. he grins that smug toji grin. “perfect then. i’ll be sure to tell megumi you said hello.” he walks out shutting the door behind him, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.

authors note ⋆ hi! this is my first time ever writing and posting something here on tumblr <3 i really hope this wasn’t too bad this took me like three days to write and i deleted and added a bunch of stuff so i hope it isn’t too wacky. thank you for reading!

#toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #x reader

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 4 years ago

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Locked Out

winter prompts day 10 ❄️ lost in a storm

If Jaskier was a stupider man, he'd be confused about the sheer amount of times he and Geralt seem to be getting stuck places together. But he and Geralt had been the first to arrive and these things only started happening after both Eskel and Lambert had reached the keep. Jaskier can put two and two together and come to the conclusion that none of this is an accident.

Unfortunately for him, Jaskier also knows why it's happening. Witchers can smell all sorts of stupid, inconvenient shit, one of the more prominent (and most inconvenient) of those being the changes in human emotion. Meaning that if Jaskier wants to keep his feelings to himself, he has to try very hard to do so. And he discovered almost as soon as the other Witchers showed up that he is terrible at it. The only conclusion he can come to is that between the four of them, they've come to the (albeit correct) conclusion, that Jaskier is hopelessly in love with Geralt, and set themselves to the task of getting together.

What they don't know, is that Geralt barely tolerates Jaskier at the best of times and getting them together is a lost cause. He wants to confront them about it, but he rather likes the time he gets to spend alone with Geralt, whether they're cooking or cleaning or chopping wood. Geralt is different up at the keep than he is on the Path and Jaskier likes this friendlier, more open side of him. So, as long as no one is getting hurt (himself notwithstanding) he decides there's nothing wrong with their little game. They think they're solving a problem and Jaskier gets to spend some time with his friend in a place that's comfortable for him.

Then, one day, they're all gathered in the main hall. Vesemir has long grown tired of Geralt and Lambert's bickering and has retired to his room or the library or wherever it is he goes when he's had enough. Jaskier is once again left alone with the younger wolves and Aiden and he's enjoying the conversation, but he finds himself tuning out more and more often tonight, wondering what it was like to grow up in a place like this.

He knows it was very different then, that there were many more Witchers who called Kaer Morhen home, but he doesn't dare ask more than that. He's gleaned enough from the little bits and pieces from Geralt to know that his childhood was not a happy one and if he's happier here now, Jaskier doesn't want to stir up bad memories.

Jaskier doesn't realize he's staring at Geralt until Lambert nudges him. He shales his head and turns around to a very smug look.

"Aiden's gonna grab drinks," Lambert says, "why don't you and Geralt go get more firewood while we settle up in here." Jaskier nods obediently, casting a quick look in Geralt's direction to see if he suspects anything. Geralt just sighs as he rises to his feet. Jaskier follows suit and traipses after Geralt toward the large doors.

They've only been outside a couple of seconds when Jaskier hears the doors click shut behind them and the sound of the lock being slid across. He spins on his heel immediately and Geralt takes a few steps back, pressing on the door, to no avail.

"You can come back in when you figure your shit out!" Lambert calls through the door. Jaskier can hear them mumbling afterward, but it's too quiet to hear properly. Geralt sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Idiots," he mumbles and turns back to Jaskier. He seems surprisingly calm, but Jaskier feels immediately guilty. This is his fault. He shouldn't have let the game go on for so long and now they're stuck out in the cold until, well, until Lambert and his cohorts decide that they've figured their shit out - something Jaskier knows won't happen.

Fuck. He should have talked to Eskel when he had the chance. He knows Eskel would have listened, that he wouldn't want to force Geralt into something he's uncomfortable with. He might have even talked to Lambert and Aiden about it, gotten them to call it off as well, but Jaskier had been greedy. He had wanted too badly to spend time with Geralt that he hadn't considered things might get out of hand, and now they have.

All at once, he realizes the only way to solve this is to own up to his own feelings. Maybe it will make Geralt uncomfortable for a little while and maybe he won't want to travel with him any longer, but it's his fault for not saying something earlier. Now, it's the only thing he can do to fix this.

He turns to try to explain to Geralt, but when he does, Geralt is smirking back at him.

"Bastards," he mumbles, "what do you say we beat them at their own game?"

Jaskier, stunned, just looks at him.

"I-" if that's what Geralt wants, how could Jaskier turn him down considering this is his fault. "Alright, what do you have in mind?"

"Find somewhere to hide out until they come looking for us," Geralt smirks. Jaskier finds himself at a loss. Ever since coming to Kaer Morhen, he's been continuously surprised about how much fun Geralt really could be when he was comfortable enough to let go. He finds himself agreeing without even thinking through what a terrible idea this could actually be.

"Come on," Geralt says, "we'll head up to the old watchtower and watch them from there."

It's a great idea in theory. In practice, Jaskier will be oblivious to whatever Geralt is watching and he's already wondering why he agreed to this. They barely make it down the hill before it starts to snow and Jaskier sighs to himself. He doesn't quite understand why he's feeling so bad about all of this because Geralt seems to be having a perfectly fine time with it and regularly Jaskier would be thrilled to (team up) with him, but tonight, he's still feeling a little guilty about everything.

A part of him is even hoping Geralt will turn around when the snow starts, but he doesn't and it only starts to snow more heavily. Jaskier does his best to keep up but finds he's falling behind and eventually gives up when he loses sight of Geralt altogether.

"Geralt!" he shouts and for a moment there's no response. Great, he was stupid enough to keep playing along with this and now he's going to die for it, lost and frozen in the middle of fucking nowhere.

He drops to his knees in the snow and is almost immediately hauled back up to his feet. Geralt's arm wraps around his shoulders and suddenly Jaskier is being walked forward through the snow. He has no idea if they're going in the same direction or if they've turned around, but he trusts Geralt to keep him safe.

He doesn't know how long they walk before coming upon a partial structure, half-buried in the snow. Jaskier is pushed inside and Geralt follows shortly, brushing the snow off of himself and then Jaskier. Before he can stop to consider his options, Jaskier is being tugged down into Geralt's lap and bundled up in his arms. He squirms but Geralt holds him close.

"Just... let me warm you up. You're nearly frozen." Jaskier wants to point out that it's Geralt's fault he's nearly frozen, but he's feeling more miserable than bitter.

Reluctantly, he lets Geralt hold him and hopes that he's considered warmed up sooner rather than later. He relaxes into it after a moment, but he's hyperaware of every place they touch. Geralt's hands are warm and comforting, but when they slip under the hem of his shirt, Jaskier pulls away.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I can't let you do this."

"Do... what?" Geralt asks. The expression on his face is a combination of hurt and confusion and Jaskier hates it, but he knows this is for the best.

"Treat me like this," he mumbles. "It's my fault we're in this place."

"Jaskier, I wasn't going to force you through the snow-"

"I don't mean here in this little shack, Geralt. I mean locked outside the keep in the first place." At this point, Geralt looks at him like he's speaking a whole other language and Jaskier sighs. His shoulders slump and he braces himself, but he supposes it was bound to come out at some point. It's been twenty years, after all.

"You know what they're doing, right?" Jaskier asks and Geralt shrugs.

"Being idiots."

"No." Jaskier pauses, but he can't bring himself to look up at Geralt. He's imagined telling Geralt how he feels time and time again, but he never expected it to be an apology. "Geralt they're trying to get us alone together on purpose. Because of my- because of the way I feel about you. Witchers can smell feelings or whatever, right? And I'm not as good at hiding it as I thought I was, so they've obviously figured it out. And I know they're just trying to help, but they don't realize that you don't-" he chokes on the words He's thought they dozens of times, but knowing Geralt doesn't feel the same and saying it out loud are two different things.

"Jask?" Geralt says softly and when Jaskier looks up, he's moved closer and he's smiling softly at him. "Is that why you think they're doing this?" Jaskier nods and Geralt sighs and shuts his eyes. "Jaskier, come here."

"Are you sure?"

"Jaskier."

"Okay, okay." He shuffles closer again, letting Geralt's arms wind around him. He tries not to press into him, but the hut is cold and Geralt is so warm and he smells wonderful, like leather and smoke and home and Jaskier is so worried about being so close that he doesn't realize Geralt is talking until he rests his chin on Jaskier's head.

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

"Uh. Yes?" Geralt sighs and does something that Jaskier can only assume is nosing at his hair.

"I didn't know about your... feelings. I thought they were just fucking with me." His arms close in a little tighter and Jaskier is too confused to fight against it. Geralt chuckles softly and Jaskier is fairly certain he's actually imagining things when he feels soft lips press against his head. "If I'd known you were amenable, I would have kissed you a long time ago and gotten them off our backs."

At that, Jaskier is certain something is wrong. Geralt doesn't just say things like that. He pulls out of his arms, turning to face him.

"Are you sick?" he asks and Geralt tips forward, swiftly closing the space between them and catching Jaskier's lips in a soft kiss.

Jaskier's mind goes entirely blank and he forgets what he's supposed to do with someone's mouth against his own. Then, Geralt's thumb comes up to brush against his cheek and when Geralt deepens the kiss, Jaskier moans softly and his reflexes take over, leaning into the kiss and wrapping his arms around Geralt's shoulders.

Without hesitation, Geralt winds his arms around his waist, hauling Jaskier up into his lap and leaning back against the wall. The kiss seems to last an eternity and no time at all and when Jaskier pulls away it's only because he's abruptly aware that he still needs to breathe.

"Oh," he breathes and Geralt smiles at him, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair back behind Jaskier's ear.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time."

"Me too. I suppose this means we'll have to thank the other?"

Geralt chuckles as he curls a hand around the back of Jaskier's neck and draws him close for another kiss. "Not a chance."

#geraskier #lost in a storm #rex writes #winter prompt challenge 2k20

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random-imagines-blog · 4 years ago

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Just in Your Heart {Taylor Swift x ChubbyMale!Reader}

Requested by: @lunchawx Wordcount: 2114 Summary: After five years of dating, you’re finally thinking of making it social-media official. Warnings: Fat shaming.

You weren’t the sort of person that most people would picture Miss Americana herself to date. Taylor Swift had gone out with some of the best looking, or at least according to the media’s standards best looking - men in the world. You didn’t need to go over them. The tabloids did that enough for you on a daily basis. But the point was that you were the opposite of a lot of these men. You weren’t in the entertainment industry. You weren’t rich. You weren’t famous. You didn’t have a six pack or a chiseled chest or that rugged jaw line or any of those things. You had worked your way up to being a curator at a Museum in New York - not one of the biggest ones, mind you, but big enough to where you always had a lot on your plate. You were overweight according to your doctor though you ate healthy and tried to get lots of exercise. And you had next to no social media presence, only followed by your friends and family - not even Taylor as for the most part, you both agreed on keeping you out of the spotlight, much as that sometimes hurt. But then again - you both had been together for five years now, and you weren’t being picked apart by the media. That was nice.

“Do you think that this is folded in enough? I always think of that scene in Sleeping Beauty where they actually fold them in,” Taylor laughed, snapping you out of your thoughts. When you had stopped at the grocery store to get the ingredients for baking night, you of course had seen Taylor on the magazines. Stepping out with new ‘mystery man’ it had reported. It was only her new bodyguard and would be forgotten in a week or so but it was still a bit annoying to be surrounded by rumors of your own girlfriend.

“Yeah, that looks good babe,” You’d say, looking into her bowl. It was cake night in your shared apartment. The whole quarantine thing had the both of you at home a lot more, though you did still have to go to work, so you were trying new hobbies. Baking had been Taylor’s idea, and it was something you had shot down at first considering your weight, but she was so insistant. She had given you those puppy dog eyes you couldn’t resist. Those baby blues had you saying yes every time. “No shells this time?”

“Oh my god, it was one time, let it go,” Taylor laughed, going for the next couple of ingredients. “I don’t think that you put enough chocolate in yours.”

“It’s a light chocolate cake, not a Devil’s Food Cake. I’m still watching my weight, remember?” You kept on whipping the eggs until they were light and fluffy, and then finally folded your own into the rest of the mixture. “This will probably be my lunch tomorrow,” You joked.

“I’ll make you something, don’t worry,” She said, putting a kiss on your cheek, transferring a bit of flour that she had on her nose onto your skin. You laughed and wiped it off. “What were you thinking about?”

“Saw you on the cover of another magazine today,” You said, slipping behind her, taking the chance to run your hands across her waist as you went to grab one of the cake pans you already prepped. “They’re thinking that Greg is your new boyfriend. It’s really throwing them off that you’re not out there dating openly anymore.”

“Oh, that’s hilarious. I’m sure his wife is going to love that,” Taylor laughed, not taking it seriously. Being in the industry since she was a teenager meant that she had to develop that tough skin. You loved that about her. You only wished that you had been able to do that yourself. “Oh, let’s take a picture before we pop these into the oven.”

Always the change of subject. But you gave in, as you always did, giving her a little nod. She pulled out her phone, turned the front camera on, and snapped a picture of her kissing your cheek while the full cake pans were waiting on the counter. You were grinning, you couldn’t help it. Every time that this wonderful, beautiful woman gave you attention, you were fawning for it. You couldn’t wait to make her your wife. Just a little longer. Just getting the ring sized.

And then the pans went into the oven, and you settled back down on the couch, looking for something to watch while waiting for the timers. Taylor went straight to Law and Order. Of course. You even bobbed your head to the theme tune. Her favorite show in the whole world. She cuddled up to you, hand and head resting on your barrel-like chest. When she touched you like this, it was hard to feel insecure. And the way that she looked up at you whenever the screen went dark between scenes - still made you feel like blushing to this day.

Once the timer went off, cake out of the oven, it was the only part of this whole baking thing that you really enjoyed. Decorating. Tongue in cheek, going over the layers with the icing that you had managed to make look tie-dye with different colors. “What do you think, fruit maybe? Some whipped cream?” You looked over to see what she was doing, only to see that she was literally throwing sprinkles on top of the icing. Making a huge mess, but it was cute to see her looking so joyous.

“Whatever you want,” She’d say, bending low, turning the plate to see the other side of the cake, and then threw even more sprinkles. One thing could be said for her method - she was thorough. There was hardly an inch on it that was untouched. You looked back at your own which was looking plain in comparison, and started chopping up some fruit to put on the top. At least give some semblance of it being healthy. That way you wouldn’t feel as guilty when you went to the doctor next and explained what you’ve been eating. “I can’t wait to try yours,” Taylor said, sticking a finger in your spare icing and dabbed some of it on the tip of your nose with a giggle. Her eyes were lit up from the inside out. She looked happy. Truly happy. “Can we take another photo?”

“Can I at least get this off of my nose first?” You laughed. She shook her head no, and this time in the photo, she was licking it right off of you, the cakes on full display in front of you. Your face was scrunched up from the attention on your nose, which made her laugh when she saw it.

“This is really cute. I might even post it,” She teased, tongue in cheek.

“Doubtful,” You chuckled, and grabbed a knife to make the first cuts.

“No, really,” She said, leaning against the counter, looking at the picture on her phone. “We’ve been together five years now and I haven’t really been able to tell anyone but our close friends and family.”

“Does anyone else matter?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Everyone that I care about knows about you. Why does the whole world?”

“I just - I don’t want you to feel like I’m ashamed of you when I’m not. I’d love to start posting pictures of us, like normal couples do.”

“We’re not a normal couple,” You pointed out. She was pouting again, but this time it didn’t look like she was trying to get what she wanted. She looked genuinely upset. You watched her for a minute as she dropped a couple more sprinkles on spots that she missed, trying to keep her hands busy. “Okay. Fine. You can post one tomorrow if you really want. But can we just relax tonight?”

“Okay,” She said, tucking a long blonde piece of hair behind her ear and smiled. She looked happy again. And that’s the way that you wanted to keep her forever.

Your phone was left in your office for most of the day while you were working on the usual day-to-day activities of the museum. You had forgotten your little agreement with Taylor the night before, having settled back in for a night of watching Olivia Benson on the television solving cases.

So when you finally had a chance to sit down and look at your phone, you were surprised to see that it was dead. You plugged it into your spare charger only for it to turn on and have hundreds - maybe even more notifications. You had to quickly go into your settings and try to turn them off so that you could have a breath. That was when you remembered, and immediately opened up instagram. 2.6 million follow requests. Jesus. At least your account was on private, who knows what they would have done if they had been able to go thorugh your photos and comment on them.

You’d leave those for another time to deal with. The next time that you were taking the subway and had nothing else better to do. But for now, you went to Taylor’s profile, where you were one of her millions of followers, never anything special until now. The two pictures from the night before, kissing and silly icing on your nose. ‘#bakingwithboyfriend.’

Over three million likes. Comments galore. And most of them were not of the nice and supportive kind.

‘Oh my god, is this some body positivity stunt?’ 'This is literally like three of her exes put together, weightwise. ‘ 'Must be really rich or have great dick’

There were other ones that were much more rude, but you weren’t going to go through them. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t do that to yourself. You put the phone back down, face down so that you wouldn’t have to look at it, or at the very least be a lot less tempted.

“Mr y/l/n,” Your assistant said, poking his head into the office. His face was looking flushed, so that already gave you an idea of what was going on. He already knew about your relationship, but that didn’t stop him from having fan-boy moments whenever Taylor came in. “She’s here to see you.”

“She can come in,” You said with a nod. He popped his head back out and the tall, lithe figure of Taylor, as dressed down as she could be, walked into the stuffy room. She smiled nervously and sat down across from you in the spot where donors or assistants usually would sit.

“You saw those comments, didn’t you?” Taylor said. You simply nodded. “I already talked to my publicist and we’re going to be taking comments off all of my posts. It isn’t right. Any of it.”

“Can’t say that it wasn’t expected though,” You admitted, leaning back in your chair. “I’m not Styles or Hiddleston.”

“That’s why I love you,” Taylor insisted. “You’re not any of those men, you’re you. They’ve got nothing, nothing at all, on you.”

“But I’m apparently three of them,” You laughed humorlessly. “Look, I knew what I was getting into by falling in love with you. I can accept it. Just sucks that the day had come after all.”

Taylor was quiet for a moment, but then she leaned forward over the desk, and took hold of your hands, giving them a squeeze with her well manicured fingers. “You’re everything to me, y/n. And I just want to show you that. I want to show the whole world that.”

“I know. I know,” You breathed out with a sigh. “Were any of the comments good?”

“Selena is going apeshit in the comments. Or at least she was while I was on the way here. Threatening to fight some of the people saying the worst things but I already deleted most of the really bad ones. I have my publicist on it. Some of them were really positive though. You’re really handsome. Some of them are threatening to come after you when we break up.”

“Ha, like that’s ever going to happen,” You said, shaking your head. “You’re it for me, baby.”

“You’re it for me too,” Taylor said, raising your hands up to kiss the tops of them. Your unmusical hands. “So - are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll get over it. I guess. More incentive to go to the gym maybe. Gotta show your millions of fans that you can still get a buff guy after all.”

“Don’t change yourself too much,” She’d say, smiling. “You’re perfect. Completely and utterly ... perfect.”

#Taylor Swift #Taylor Swift x reader #Taylor Swift oneshot #celebrity #celebrity oneshot #onreshot #one shot #request #x reader #taylors

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years ago

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Into The Unknown, Part 5

First

Tim finished up pretty quickly.

After all, all the baby toys seemed to just be different variations of each other. Some crinkle, some make sounds, some squish, some… do nothing at all? Tim had no clue how he used to get by as a kid.

He ended up getting Damian three toys:

A tiny rubber duck. He’s almost completely sure that Marinette would have bought one if Tim hadn’t. At least when he was the one buying it he could opt to get the Darth Vader one (Damian had always been woefully uncultured, this was his one chance to make the kid watch sci-fi without risking getting stabbed).

A plush cow with crinkly ears. He had to hope that this could maybe jog memories of Batcow and, in turn, everything else. Tim had tried to think of something a little more relevant but all he could think of were things related to Batman, to Superboy, to the League of Assassins (did their lives really revolve around vigilante-work that much?)... and, unfortunately, this reality didn’t have merch that he could give the kid.

And a squishy plastic baguette. Because that was all he could think of to get back at Marinette for the duck thing.

When it came to little kid books he hesitated for just a bit before getting the basics -- stuff like animals and the letters and Spot The Dog. He wondered, vaguely, if he’d have to teach the kid numbers since they already used the Arabic numeral system. He got a book on it just in case.

Then he got a couple of books on parenting.

He checked out and then walked back to the sitting area where he was supposed to meet Marinette.

… she was taking forever.

He sighed quietly and skimmed through a book on parenting.

… oops they were supposed to breastfeed until Damian was about two. No clue what to do about that. Maybe the kid was already used to a bottle? He hoped so. He’d watch him more carefully while Marinette was holding him to see. In the meantime, he’d get a bottle and some formula on top of the baby food they’d been getting so far.

Alright so the kid was supposed to learn behaviors and language through observation. Good. That, hopefully, solved that problem. Tim probably would have just given the kid a textbook and said ‘good luck’. Marinette… he didn’t really know what Marinette would have done, but the woman wasn’t a teacher as far as he could tell and asking her to teach the kid properly was a little unfair.

Babies around his age are supposed to speak in something called… protowords? Like… a baby language? Damn, he has a miraculous and it seemingly allows him the power to understand every language but apparently ‘baby-speak’ didn’t count as a language. Tim called bullshit.

He felt a weight settle down on the bench next to him and absently glanced over.

Marinette sent him a slightly tired smile. She was wearing a new, dark red scarf.

He opened his mouth to say something only to have her shake her head and adjust her scarf a little to show him something.

Ah. It looked like Damian had fallen asleep on her shoulder so she’d fashioned the scarf into a makeshift baby sling.

“Could’ve used the stroller,” he whispered, setting his receipt in the book to mark his page.

She snorted. “And risk waking him? He cries every time he wakes up, I’m not dealing with that right now.”

He bit his lip. “You know… this book says he’s supposed to cry for, like, an hour to an hour and a half a day.”

She tipped her head to the side a little. “He’s cried like… three times.”

“Yeah, and he was really easy to shut up. Decidedly not normal.”

They looked back down at Damian, identical frowns on their faces.

“Does it have an explanation for why he’d be like this?” Marinette asked, her voice soft.

Tim hesitated.

“The only reasons I can think of are that he doesn’t think we’d help him if he cried or he thinks crying is something he’d be punished for. Considering how he was raised… it could be either. Or both.”

Marinette yawned as she sat back on the hotel bed. She leaned back against Tim, leaving him to bear the weight of both her and Damian.

He, to his credit, barely even blinked. He turned slowly until they were both leaning back against each other.

She tipped her head back to rest on his shoulder.

She could fall asleep like this, she thought. Propped against Tim. Damian, in her arms, watching an episode of something called True and the Rainbow Kingdom… it was nice.

Or, at least, it would be if Tim could stop that infernal tapping.

“Ugh, could you stop that? Some people actually sleep.”

He gave a tiny puff of laughter that acknowledged that he heard her but, alas, he continued typing.

She groaned a little and reached a hand behind herself to give him a tiny bap to his side.

“Hm. This may shock you, but hitting me really hasn’t helped your case.”

She huffed and twisted around to try and see over his shoulder. She’d given up on sleeping, anyway.

“What are you even doing?”

He shrugged just slightly. “Trying to figure out what to do about money.”

She nodded slowly, looking over his shoulder as he scrolled through jobs they could do with zero experience or degrees. That could sustain a family of three and pay for the daycare they would have to take Damian to. The options... weren’t great.

Damian tugged on her shirt for her attention and she looked down as he pointed at his screen with a bright smile. There was a black cat on the screen. She didn’t really know what he wanted until he kept saying ‘ma’ over and over. She nodded and said ‘cat’ in both Arabic and English, which seemed to sate him as he went back to watching… the giant green yeti monster stealing a basket of candy? What the fuck was even going on on this show? Were kids’ shows like this in her own world, too? Or was this one’s shows just especially weird?

A thought occurred to her and she looked back over at Tim.

“You exist in this world, right?”

He nodded absently and opened a tab that, despite its claim that it was an entry level job, apparently required two years of experience and a degree. He closed it quickly.

“Why don't we just mooch off of the other you?”

Tim sighed. “Because that’s illegal?”

“You’re a vigilante. I don’t think that ‘borrowing’ money from your alternate self is where you should draw the line on illegal activities.”

“I draw the line when it harms innocent people.”

She laughed at that. “He’s rich. It’s not like he’s going to miss it. Think of it as… giving the money to people who need it.”

“You’re a regular robin hood,” Tim said sarcastically.

“I know. I’m so kind,” she agreed, grinning.

There were a few moments of silence.

Then, finally, he shook his head. “Even if we could somehow do that -- which I can’t guarantee because I’m not completely sure I could guess my passwords -- the fact that we’re in Texas… he’d notice.”

She shrugged. “Then let’s move back to Gotham.”

He blinked and finally looked up from the computer. “What?”

“We don’t have much of a life here, really, so why not move?”

He considered this for a while before sighing and flopping back on the bed. “Let me see if I can even get into the account. There’s nothing to say that I even have the same social security number here...”

She nodded her understanding and laid back next to him. Damian whined a little at the sudden displacement but just ran a hand up and down his back absently until he was watching his show again, completely silent as he stared at the screen. Now the main girl was reaching into her bag for a weird orb of light that was, apparently, sentient. Was this the Dora of their world? God help their children.

Speaking of helping their children...

She picked up a parenting book to read while Tim tried to guess his otherworldly counterpart’s passwords.

Tim managed to get in.

He rested his head in his hands, cursing quietly.

She glanced over and smiled at his slightly flushed face.

“What was the password?”

He grumbled under his breath.

This only seemed to encourage her more because she started nudging his shoulder, the soft smile morphing into a cheeky grin.

He sighed and took a moment to gather himself before looking over at her. “It’s… ‘<3Richard<3graysons<3little<3brother<3’.”

“... I don’t get it.”

“Good. So you can’t tease me about it,” he said, sticking his tongue out at her.

She scoffed. “That’s not fair.”

“Totally is.”

He set the computer down beside himself and stretched his achy old bones. He’d had a baby for approximately two days now and he could already feel the bad back setting in. Tomorrow he would have gray hair.

“I’m going to look it up if you don’t tell me.”

“... he’s a celebrity,” Tim said quietly.

Her grin wavered back towards that genuine smile for just a second before spreading into an even wider grin. She reached out and pinched his cheeks. “Awwww, Tim, that’s so cute --!”

“Shut up,” he complained, batting her hands away.

She snickered. “No. I’m going to write that password on your tombstone.”

“You’re assuming I’m going to die first.”

“I have an extended lifespan. You’re only going to have that for another fifteen years. After that? Unless I’m really stupid you’re gonna die first.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to find out how to be immortal now. Purely to spite you.”

She snorted. “Okay. Good luck with that.”

“Thank you.”

With that, he pushed himself up with a groan. “I’m going to get him ready for bed.”

She nodded her understanding and continued with her reading.

Damian whined a little when Tim tried to take him away from where he had curled up next to Marinette but that seemed to be more because he was tired and cranky than genuine distress.

Tim was the one to bathe him. It wasn’t a bubble bath, he wasn’t eager to repeat the previous night’s mistakes, but he did give Damian the rubber duck. This seemed to work for all of them, since Damian now allowed them to take him out of the bath as long as he got to bring his duck.

Marinette grinned when she looked over at where Damian was chewing on his rubber duck as Tim struggled to click the annoyingly difficult buttons of the onesie into place.

“Told you he would love it.”

“We both know that wasn’t why you wanted to get it.”

“And we both know you didn’t get that squishy bread-thing just because you thought he would like it, either.”

He smiled. “Maaaaaybe.”

The onesie finally allowed itself to be buttoned and Tim picked Damian up so he could get into bed.

Marinette frowned. “This book says we shouldn’t let him sleep with us every night. Says it creates a bad habit that’s hard to break.”

Tim raised an eyebrow at her but, reluctantly, carried the kid over to the crib so they could sleep separately.

“Fine. But I’m going to sleep before him so I don’t stress out all night.”

She snickered. “Fine. Fine.”

He climbed into bed, set a pillow between them, and promptly dozed off before he could get woken up by Damian whimpering through the night.

… Tim woke up a few hours later -- his body wasn’t quite used to sleeping through nights just yet -- to find that Marinette had brought the kid into bed with them again.

He smiled a little and moved the pillow out from between them. Even if Damian was currently too trapped in Marinette’s arms to even reach it, it was best to make sure it couldn’t happen.

Damian whimpered a little in his sleep again and Tim tipped his head to the side. He reached over and gently combed his fingers through the fuzzy little tufts of hair that the kid had so far. Damian relaxed.

Tim sighed and shifted in the bed until he was closer to Damian, then maneuvered through Marinette’s mess of limbs to press a tiny kiss to the top of his head. The baby smiled in his sleep and, though the kid couldn’t see it, he returned the smile. He rested an arm around the kid as well in hopes that it would keep the kid feeling safe before allowing himself to drift off.

~~~~~

@nathleigh @peachmuses @unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff

#into the unknown #maribat #tim drake #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #timari #timmari #shutterbug #timinette

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 4 years ago

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Open Me Carefully

summary: spencer reid and reader are best friends, but don’t realize that they both love each other.

author’s note: crappy summary, but this one is loosely based on gold rush

warnings: none

Open Me Carefully

Maybe it’s the fact that I have a propensity to keep rereading historical romances, or maybe it’s the fact that I just listen to “Lover” way too much for a single person. Or maybe, I’m actually in love with him, my best friend and the only person in this world who I think truly knows me.

I mean, how could I not be completely in love with him. Spencer Reid is the closest thing to perfection. He is kind, brilliant, and unbelievably handsome. It almost hurts me how wonderful he is. But daydreaming about Spencer’s hair falling in his eyes, or his hands grazing across the map spread out on the table, or even his wide smile that slips out when he lets his guard down is not productive to solving crimes.

Unsubs, Y/N. Unsubs. Stop thinking about his hands. And start focusing.

“Y/N/L!” Calls Hotch from across the room. He’s assigned me to locate the birth mother of the potential unsub. He was given up for adoption as an infant, but bounced around from foster home to foster home, never finding a home, and now obsessed with finding his roots.

“Yes, sir, here’s the name from Garcia. Susan Lee gave up her baby for adoption in 1981, she was a just 16 years old, so that would make her-”

“44 years old” Spencer injected.

Hotch gave me a short nod of approval and I cocked my head towards Spencer’s direction, who tried to pull off an innocent look.

“It’s math, Y/N. I can’t help myself,” he explains.

“It’s fine, Spence. Math is like your religion,” I tell him, but what I’m really thinking is it’s you, Spence, and you can get away with anything with me.

“Math, in its purest form, is a beauty known nowhere else” he remarks.

“Who’s that Nietzsche?” I ask him as he beams down at me, twirling a blue permanent mark between his very distracting fingers.

“No, Spencer Reid.” he says as he turns back to the map on the table before us.

Just as I give myself the smallest bit of a second to enjoy the playful banter that falls between us, JJ and Emily come walking in, leading a gruff looking detective with them.

“We think we know where Jacob is hiding out,” JJ starts with a grim look on her face. Emily and the detective walk past her to where Hotch and Derek explain the profile to the SWAT team waiting by.

“His old orphanage, right?” Spencer asks looking up from the map.

“Yeah, and we think he’s going to hold some of the other children hostage,” JJ tells us.

“We need to get there, JJ. But isn't it his mother he wants, not the other children. You’d think that with the profile we came up with, it would make more sense for him to want to save the children, not hold them hostage?” I reason.

“You’re right, Y/N,” Spencer says, coming to a dark realization “he thinks that he’s saving them. He’s Angel of Death” he finishes grimly.

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Sitting quietly in the jet after the chaos of de-escalating a hostage situation is a calm like no other. We all have routines for the ride home. A quiet ritual that we take the time to be thankful that we’re all here, in one piece, having made the world slightly more safe.

JJ, ever diligent, will work on paper with Hotch. Rossi will usually keep Hotch from overworking with a small, light conversation.

Emily spreads out on the couch, and the rest of us pretend to not see JJ glance over at her as she looks at Emily with eyes that crave her attention.

Derek will listen to music and I’ll close my eyes and strain my ears to make out the muffled tunes that escape his ears. I sit across from Derek and will share snacks that we grabbed from a dingy convenience store on the way to the tarmac.

Spencer, who always sits next to me, will usually write his mother a letter. He writes her a letter on every plane ride after a case. I think back to the time that I asked him why he prefers letters to phone calls. He told me that he finds letters a forever way to say ‘I love you’. Taking your love and turning it into pen and paper makes it tangible, is what he told me. Until that day, I never really pegged Spencer to be a poet, but he continues to amaze me everyday.

I think that he can feel me staring at him, because he suddenly stops writing and his eyes look up to meet mine.

“She’s not doing so well, Y/N” Spencer says, his voice but a whisper above the hum of the jet and music spilling from Morgan’s headset.

“Your mom?” I ask, my voice matching his.

Spencer, for perhaps the first time I’ve known him, is quietly defeated.

“All I ever wanted to do was to save her, Y/N. Sometimes I feel like I’m not doing everything I should be. I thought that by the time I was 30 I would have cured schizophrenia. It’s just that sometimes I feel like maybe I settled”

“Well, you know we really don’t hear about child genius when they are adults. And you have the same job and me, and I’m not where near as smart as you. So you feel like you’re letting the world down or even worse— yourself”

“You might not have the IQ points on a piece of paper, but you are nothing short of brilliant” Spencer says looking at me directly in my eyes. I hold his gaze for maybe a second and look down towards my lap in disbelief.

“Spence,” I say. “You have to say that, otherwise I’d stop making you chocolate donuts.”

“I don’t need your donuts to convince me that you are an amazing agent. I mean,” He pauses and holds my stare again.

“You’re so kind it hurts me sometimes. And watching you those kids today, you’d be a great mom, Y/N. You make everyone feel so comfortable just being around you, and I’d give up all the chocolate donuts and IQ points and bottomless coffee if it meant you’d stay in my life,” Spencer says looking at me. I rest my hand over his and we sit there in the silence and comfort of the other.

Spencer Reid is a man of many hats. But I think his way with words just may be my favorite. I don’t dare to respond to him. I don’t trust myself not to kiss his pink lips as he looks at me like he loves me. I don’t trust myself to not tell him all the wonderful and sinful things I think about him. I don’t trust myself to not tell him how I was watching him play with those orphans back at the police station.

“What’s a best friend for, Spence?” I say to him.

“Besides, ’d want nothing more than to be a mom one day,” I tell him. We never really talked about our futures. Maybe it was the nature of our jobs. Having a lethal job means that the future is more of an arbitrary idea than a definite possibility.

“But,” I start. “I'm twenty-seven years old, I've no money and no prospects. I'm already a burden to my parents and I'm frightened” I quote with a smirk on my face that covers my trepidation at talking about love and children and the future with Spencer.

“I’d never think that you’d be one to settle for a Mr. Collins, Y/N” Spencer tells me, a similar look on his face mirrors my own. “If anything, you’re a Lizzie and you deserve a Mr. Darcy”

“You really think that Spence, because I’m not too sure.”

“You never know, Y/N your Mr. Darcy can be anyone. Statistically speaking, you may have already met him or have mutual friends or he may even work in the Bureau.

Sometimes I think that luck and fate are mocking me. Dangling Spencer in front of me; so real yet so far that I’m jumping to remain close to him. Touching his hand to mine feels like I’m teasing myself, just getting a taste of how his warm, strong hands fit into mine is enough to set my heart on fire.

I let go of his hand and my palm is cold and lonely without his touching. My heart cools but there’s a yearning for him that’s so strong it’s like a magnetic field pulling me in.

“I’m going to get a cup of coffee, would you like some?” He asks me as he scoots out of the seat.

“I’ll take a green tea, coffee this late makes me anxious” And sitting here holding your hand talking about children and my Mr Darcy makes me even more anxious.

“Coming right up,” he says with a sad smile on his face that I try to convince myself is because of his mother’s illness and not because I dropped his hand.

Spencer returns to his spot beside me, sipping his coffee and making small notes in his letter. There’s a chill between us that can’t be quelled by even the hottest cup of tea. Spencer doesn’t talk to me again and even though it’s just a couple more hours, I miss his voice.

I have a routine for when I come home after cases, but that routine has been thrown out the window when I watched Spencer walk out of the bullpen without as much as a wave goodbye. We usually go to my apartment and make dinner together. My trip home is a lot more lonely without Spencer by my side. I try to stop my thoughts from going to him, but it’s impossible when he’s all I can think about.

My apartment is dark and quiet when I walk in. It was left in shambles, with clothes and books strewn all over the couch, desk and floor. I can’t even bother myself to care about the dirty dishes stacked in the sink. I convince myself that those dishes are a tomorrow problem.

I take out a small container of leftover fried rice and vegetables and pop into the microwave. Making my way into my bedroom I change out of my work clothes, that I’ve been in for nearly 30 hours. I don’t really think about what I’m putting on, as long as it does not smell it works with me at this point.

My microwave dings, altering me that my mediocre meal is finished. But, before I can even reach the kitchen a small envelope slips through my door and falls on the floor. A sudden rush of fear courses through me. I flit my eyes to the corner safe where my gun rests. In my mind, I try to calculate the risk of punching the code or if I should just find out who is behind my door. I guess curiosity wins out, because I’m walking towards the door where the mysterious envelope sits.

I reach down and instantly recognize the handwriting as Spencer’s. I can feel my heart pumping blood through my bodying as I think that some sadistic unsub is trying to toy with me by hurting Spencer.

I was not prepared for what I read. My fingers grazed over the messy penmanship. I don’t even let my mind wander as I pour over the words on the page, still fearing for the worse

Dear Y/N,

Part of me can’t believe that I’m actually doing this. But something that you mentioned on the plane sparked something in me. You’re not a Charlotte, or a Lizzie or even a Jane, even though you are the kindest and most beautiful person I know.

You are a Y/N. And I am wishing for anything to be your Mr. Darcy. Thinking about you, Y/N gets me thinking about love. How much I love when you look at me across from the table, or how your soft hands will brush against mine. It reminds me that I’m alive. Your gaze makes me blush and those small brushes make me forget to breathe. In your eyes I can see my future— our future. In your smile I can taste happiness. When I am with you the world moves in slow motion and time seems to move too fast.

I hope that this does not ruin things, Y/N. I could not bear to lose you. I hope that you won’t hate me but even if you do, I’d rather you hate me and be in your life than not be in your life.

I think of love, and you, and my heart grows full and warm, and my breath stands still

Forever yours,

Spencer

I read the letter silently. Not sure if I can believe it, but I so desperately want to. I throw all sense to the wind when I fling the door open, my eyes hunting for Spencer. He sits on the steps leading up to the next level, fiddling with his shoe laces. I run over to where he sits, not caring that my neighbors might be looking or caring that I look like I’m about to mug him.

He makes me, cautious girl, a rebel.

“Hey, you,” I say approaching him. Spencer moves to stand up and I reach out to hold his hands in mine. Like a puzzle piece they hit perfectly. His hands are not too warm or clammy or too cold and boney. They’re perfect. He hesitates and rubs his thumb against the back of my palm, like he does on the plane.

“Hi, Y/N.” He starts nervously. “I guess you got the letter, and I just want to tell you-”

“What letter, Spence?” I say. I can’t help but to tease him. His face turns pale and green in the same breath.

“Uh-um, you didn’t just get something in your mail a couple minutes ago?” He asks me so nervously that I almost feel bad at teasing him. Almost, he’s kind of cute when he’s stumbling over his words and I like to be one that makes him this fluttery.

“I got your letter, Spencer,” I tell him. I think he half expects me to drop his hand and shatter his heart then and there. Maybe he came here and prepared himself for the worse. I think he’s done that his whole life, believing that he doesn’t deserve a chance at happiness. I’m kind of inclined to give him that happiness when it’s so intricately tied to mine.

“You did?”

“Yeah, who knew that you were quite the poet, Spencer.” I tell him as I brush his hair from his eyes. It’s gotten so long, but I like it. I’ve dreamt about threading my fingers threw it many times. It’s so soft and brown and frames his face.

“You deserve a poet, Y/N. And I could only dream of being that person for you.” He says. Against even his own wishes he leans in closer to my touch. His cheek is warm in my palm and I feel his long eyelashes flutter against the ball of my thumb.

“Luckily for you, Spence, I like scientists.” I say to him.

“You--”

“I love you back, Spencer.” I move to wipe the tears that flood down the bridge of his nose.

“It was a really beautiful letter that you wrote, Spencer. All the right things in there, Emily Dickinson and Mr. Darcy,” I tell him pressing my cheek into his chest.

“Well, I had to win you over, Y/N”

“Ha!, Spencer you’ve had me since I’ve met you”

He looks at me with a veil of disbelief.

“Spencer Reid, in his purest form, is a beauty known nowhere else”

“Is that what you think of me?” He asks me.

“Why don’t you come inside and let me show you what I think of you Spencer?” I say leading him inside to my apartment, that was no longer so dark and lonely.

#spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid deserved a happy ending #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fanfic

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candyopala · 3 years ago

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Stuck in his ways, Chapter 7

Chapter Summary: Y/N and Obito have to get around the awkwardness of the events from that night, and what better to help with that then team seven in all its glory?

Words: 2.3k

AO3

Please like or reblog if you enjoy, check my rules for requests too! My dms are also open if you want to chat or anything else.

After spending a whole day on the hospital, Obito heads home for some well-deserved sleep. It is only on the next day, on his way to the field, that he starts properly processing what happened that night with Y/N. Her bandaging him up with a weird look in her eyes, him crying in front of her… the warmth he felt when she held his hand. Why did he do that in front of her anyway? They barely know each other, she teases him to no end, but he can’t help to already feel close to her, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

The way she held him…. He hasn’t felt this way since long ago, he felt accepted in an intimate way, he felt genuine companionship with her. Obito feels bad when he remembers too the reason for that whole situation, he wanted to get rid of the girl; he wanted to make her go away without giving her a chance.

I’ve been so blind, shutting her off like that…

Without knowing anything about his failures and only knowing that ugly side he shows to everyone, she still helped him through a tough time. He can’t help but feel his heart flutter with embarrassment, he didn’t even give her much of a chance. She might not be from Konoha, but there’s still good in her. He needs to take his mission with her more seriously.

He walks down the market streets, instinctively analyzing every single action that happens around him, seeing the faces of the people going up and down the roadway busy with their things. It’s not long before he spots four familiar figures walking down the street together: team seven. Naruto and Sakura discuss loudly about a matter Obito doesn’t bother try rearing, followed by Sasuke and Kakashi tagging along. Obito tries to say hi to Kakashi, only to be attacked by a running Naruto that throws himself onto him with all his force:

“Big bro Obito!”

“Hey! Calm down now! It’s only seven a.m. for Kami’s sake!” He scolds while laughing aloud and hugging the thirteen-year-old back

“I’m learning something new, you have to come see it! Are you busy?”

“I’m going to the training grounds, I can’t Naruto, sorry”

“Come on! Train with us!”

“Hey Naruto, stop bothering Obito, all right? He’s busy” Kakashi tries to intervene in Obito’s sake

“Huh… actually…”

Obito’s mind starts functioning, he does need to teach some new stuff to Sasuke and bringing Y/N along would be good for her training. He decides to join them, he actually feels deep down the need to introduce her to new people, to get her more settled into the village.

“I guess I’ll come along. There’s someone I want you guys to meet”

“Oh, is it her?” Naruto says with a devilish sparkle in his eyes.

“Her? Are you dating?” Sakura jumps up, immediately invested into the conversation.

“Finally” Sasuke also joins to make it all worse.

“Guys, calm down…” Kakashi once again tries to save his friend from his hyperactive trio “He’s just training a new member of the village”

A collective “oh” is heard from the two in disappointment. Great, now even the kids are invested in his love life. Obito tells them a little bit more about her on the way to the field, and he notices that even Kakashi seems a little bit more enthusiastic than normal.

When they reach the training grounds, he finds Y/N laying back on a tree, with a surprised look on her face when she sees the kids. Obito tries to introduce them, but they end up introducing themselves, with a hyperactive Naruto leading the presentations followed by his teammates and his teacher.

“Nice to meet you guys! Are we training together today?”

“Yup” Obito tries to say in the middle of Naruto’s ramblings

“How’s your arm?” She asks him back in the midst of it, a bit of what seems worry flashes her eyes, only to be quickly concealed with a look to the side.

“Oh, feeling like new. Some medical ninjutsu quickly solved it.” He states as he gets more embarrassed by the minute, once the memory of their shared companionship floods his mind. He needs to try to actually be nicer to her.

Meanwhile, Sakura flies a sly meaning smile in Obito’s direction, to his utter desperation. Watching the whole scene develop, Kakashi once again intervenes, trying to get to the subject of training.

“So, Y/N, dumbi- ahem, Obito told me you need some help with discovering your chakra nature. Coincidentally, that’s what I’m currently doing with the kids, so we could help you with that”

“That would be great, thanks guys! Out of curiosity, what horrible things did my mentor say about me?”

“Only the most terrible embarrassing things I found on your file” Obito teases back in a flash, without doing much thinking, letting himself play around a little.

“Oh then I should tell you friend about your new nickna-“

“Let’s start training, shall we?” He interrupts her before she can say it, since letting Kakashi know about that would be the end of him.

Kakashi started trying to teach Y/N a couple of techniques, teaching her to concentrate her chakra and showing her the right hand signs. Obito also explained about the ideal state of mind each element requires, the type of energy each one of them consumes.

Raiton was immediately out of question, and despite her special punch technique, doton seemed to drain too much of her energy, as well as suiton. She was able to produce a small amount of katon, only achieving smaller jutsu still due to the immense amount of chakra these require, so the fireball jutsu was out of question.

Futton was their last attempt and the one they were more successful with. She could produce wind with her running speed, creating vacuum spots, using the element in a less concentrated way than the rasengan requires, since she is still inexperienced with chakra concentration at that level.

Obito was actually pleased with today’s developments; he thinks that she can become even stronger by actually doing jutsu in battle. Naruto was also overjoyed to learn that his new village mate had the same main element as himself, showing her his still developing rasengan, proud of his own training and giving her some tips.

Obito let the pair talking and went to oversee Kakashi and Sasuke, now training his chidori technique. His little cousin had also developed a lot, and was now opening up to be a wonderful kid thanks to Naruto and Sakura’s insistence on their friendship, and Itachi’s efforts to make him socialize more.

He then also let them train and sat down together with Sakura, who was watching her colleagues train too, while she herself studied some medical ninjutsu books. The small girl looked at him with curiosity, noting the different expression on her sensei’s friend, who was usually much more uptight and serious. With that knowing look again, she simply stated:

“Mr. Obito, your main element is katon, right?”

“Yes Sakura, why?”

“Ah nothing, I was just wondering… katon is compatible with futton, right?”

“Yes, both can be used together to create more powerful jutsu”

“So… we could say that you and Y/N are compatible”

Obito’s eye goes wide with the way the girl says it. Both of them know she is not talking about just jutsu here. The implication of what she said makes him go as red as a pepper.

“N-no Sakura, she is my colleague, we are just that.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about sir, excuse me.”

The girl gets up and runs into Naruto and Y/N’s direction, winking back at Obito on her way.

~”~

The team gathers up for lunch, Y/N sits beside Obito’s friend Kakashi, opposite to her mentor, who sat in front of her. She avoided his eye contact, still feeling a little inappropriate for her behavior that night. She fears that what happened was too intimate for her own comfort, that she should not try to get that close to him. She should be his teammate, nothing else. She must ignore that pull that she feels from him, that desperate need she feels to talk to him about why he was crying that night.

She tries to strike up conversation with the ninja beside her, and he is very receptive, if not for his general lack of energy and relaxed demeanor. She sees a small little orange book protruding from his pocket, is that what she thinks it is? It is! The greatest book series of all time!

“Hey, is that Icha Icha?”

“Yes it is! I just picked up the latest volume!” he immediately assumes a whole different behavior, now fully invested in the conversation.

“What chapter are you on? Did you reach chapter 37 yet?”

“No, and no spoilers, please! I dying to know what she will do when she finds out about that thing”

“Dude, trust me, it’s going to be awesome”

They both strike up conversation about it for a couple of minutes, Y/N talks excitedly about the romance’s structure and how she finds it poetic in a way. They both discuss the general plots, praising the author despite Naruto’s loud complaints about him being a total pervert.

When she finally looks at Obito’s direction, she sees the jonin hunched forward, with an unimpressed look on his face, matching Sasuke’s that also seems to be bothered by the subject matter.

“Great, another one, they will talk about it forever” The young Uchiha comments.

“I don’t know what you guys see in this stupid book anyway” The oldest complements.

“He didn’t even give it a try; can you believe it, Y/N?” Kakashi teases in response.

“Sacrilegious! How could he say such things?” She retorts with fake shock.

“Shut up, you two perverts.” Obito says with a scorn forming on his lips, something he usually does that Y/N is starting to find extremely fun and… endearing?

Y/N, Kakashi and the kids laugh at his little tantrum, and later even himself. He is acting different today, more open, with a more lighthearted attitude, a lot less uptight and grumpy. Y/N feels a little happy knowing that he is feeling better, but she quickly shuts off the realization.

Concentrate on what’s important here.

They quickly fall back into training, with Y/N sitting back due to her extreme exertion during the chakra nature tests. After he has finished with his portion of the training with Kakashi and Obito, Naruto joins her. They sit together observing Obito discussing the fireball jutsu with Sasuke, Y/N can’t help but notice the proud look on her teammate’s face when his little cousin does a perfect ball of fire, making her let out a small smile. He’s not so cynical after all.

Naruto begins to talk about how he needs to be as strong as his father is, and Y/N learns that he is, in fact, son of the Hokage. He talks and explains a lot about the village and also talks about how his mom is always bothering him to make his bed in the morning. The kid is all over the place until he focuses on the subject of Obito.

He begins to tell her about how he is like a big brother for him and how he taught him his most deadly jutsu, something about a sexy jutsu, and how he is cool even if he has no girlfriend. Y/N, being the innocent thing she is, prods him for more embarrassing details about her mentor.

“One time he got stuck in the sexy woman form and Jiraya followed him around the village for a day! He had to hide from the pervert in the sewers! And once he choked with candy in the middle of a jonin reunion, Kakashi told me that”

Y/N cannot help but bust out in laughter at the image that forms in her mind, not being able to breathe while the kid continues to spill out embarrassing stories about the Uchiha. Naruto is suddenly stopped when Sakura lands a punch on top of his head, screaming in annoyance with her teammate’s attitude:

“Stop ruining everything!”

What she meant with that remains a mystery to Y/N. The discussion has to be separated by a tired Kakashi, holding Sakura back with all his force. Y/N is caught off guard by Obito’s presence by her side.

He helps her get up, giving his gloved hand in support. She accepts it, steading herself up.

“So, that’s all for today, sewer boy?”

“He told you about that, huh?”

“Of course he did”

“Yup, that’s all for today. Let’s head home”

“Let’s? I didn’t know you had moved into my broom closet, Obito”

“You know I’m not letting you walk around exhausted like that, Y/N”

The change in his tone scares her. He sounds serious, almost protective, and he calling her name like that sends shivers down her spine, in a not so bad way. He also didn’t call her a dumbass, is that an improvement?

She once again insists on walking by herself, but he insists on it so much that she eventually gives up and lets him accompany her. They discuss her new technique possibilities on most of the way, only for the subject to change as they reach her apartment.

“So, what did you think about them?”

“They’re nice kids, all of them seem to look up to you, Naruto especially”

“He’s a good kid, they are all like family to me”

Y/N agrees with her head, thinking to herself about the word family. She once had one, but lost them very early on. Moreover, once she found another person she could call that, she lost them too. The memories flood her mind, making her face go serious and eyes to go foggy.

“Take good care of them Obito, what you have here is… amazing”

“I will, I promised that long ago”

They reach her door, saying their goodbyes quickly. As Y/N closes her door, Obito calling her name again interrupts her.

“Oh! Y/N! I forgot; we have an important meeting with the Hokage tomorrow at ten in the morning. We will be heading out for our first mission, be ready”

#Obito #obito uchiha #obito x reader #Jonin Obito #obito x you #obito x y/n #uchiha obito #naruto fanfiction

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fourfucksake · 4 years ago

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let it snow

request: Can you do something with Chris sleeping with a friend? Maybe she comes and stays over and it snowed to hard for her to leave. They watch a movie and drink a little and it leads to rough sex on the couch?

pairing: chris evans x fem!black!reader

warnings: language, smut

word count: 2k

p.s i’m sorry for being inactive! i’m fine, just lazy

Visiting Chris right before Christmas was a tradition that we both shared for a long time. A few years ago, we met while filming a movie together, and our friendship blossomed very quickly. Being casted for that movie was my first role ever; back then, the show-biz, “the” Hollywood was truly one big puzzle that I had to solve on my own. The role I had wasn’t big nor significant, but it meant everything to me. The memories from those filming days were so close to my heart. Not to mention the friendship I built with Chris Evans that was also very dear to myself.

In that movie, I played the girl Chris slept with several times and at the end she finally got him to solve a mystery which led to a plot twist. Despite this description, the role wasn’t really that big, and I only had like three scenes where my character was somehow important. As imagined, all the sex talks we had as our characters were the start of me developing crush on him. Yes, I adored him as a fan for years but after that once scene where we almost kissed (and had to reshoot it way too many times) made me go crazy over him. It was downright embarrassing that literally no man that I have ever slept with made me as turned on as Chris did by almost kissing me.

“Chris!” I yelled while greeting him, giving his body a warm hug. His huge arms wrapped around me always gave me the snuggest feeling inside, I loved the smallest touch of his affection on myself. A loud laugh left my lips as he picked me up, completely erasing the distance between us. I gave him a small peck on a cheek before my feet were back again on the ground. “No Dodger?” I asked out of curiosity after not being able to spot one of my favourite creatures. “Nope, not today. He is with Scott, I left him there since I only came to this house for a couple of days before going back to my brother’s. Didn’t want to move him around like that, you know?” He explained as he rested his shoulder on the doorframe while I undressed from the heavy winter clothing. I hanged my big, fluffy coat and took my boots off before we entered his big living room.

Our “Christmas Dinner” was filled with laughs and banter. I almost forgot how amusing Chris really was, he always did everything to make the other person laugh out loud. Being with him was always great fun and however horrible that sounds I was ecstatic when the snowfall outside transformed into an apocalypse. Of course, I pretended that I really need to head back home, and nothing will stop me, but Chris refused to let me leave in this weather. After twenty minutes of going back and forth in argument, I gave up. He seemed pleased which was a relief because I would’ve hated feeling like I’m not wanted.

Chris made us both a cup of hot chocolate as we continued to talk. We made a promise regarding Christmas gift, swearing on each other’s lives that they will only be unwrapped on an actual Christmas Day. Still, I had a feeling he will open his as soon as I leave through that door. My eyes rolled as he deliberated about how his gift was surely better than mine, Tired of his annoying whimpers, I picked a TV remote and started looking through films on Disney+. “This will shut you up for like an hour or, at least I hope so,” I said with a silly face and showed him the middle finger as he laughed in response.

Focusing on the TV screen, I tried not to think about different, erotic scenarios of the both of us. His presence near me was enough to make my thoughts livid. His hand was placed on my knee, which I could not stop thinking about, no matter how hard I tried to. If Chris knew what my dirty thoughts were including him in, he would most likely show me where the door is. Or, possibly, throw me out of the window. I couldn't help but stress in his presence. It was simply not possible not to. When I thought I could control myself around him, he would start stroking my thigh, driving my consciousness crazy. He could sense that I was nervous, or at least I thought that he could, because he looked at me with his bug puppy eyes. He said nothing, just stared in the bluntest way possible. I returned the stare, unable to form words that would make any sense.

Gazing into my eyes, he positioned his hand on my cheek. Involuntarily, a familiar shiver ran through my entire body. Ugh, he was perfect, and I hated him for it. I just knew I was not the only girl to feel this way about him. You didn’t have to know him to lust over his self. I opened my lips as he began to approach me, getting closer to my face with every millisecond. Our lips finally joined in a passionate kiss. My hand quickly rested on top of his, caressing the skin on his fingers which were placed on my face. My hormones were screaming and in a spare of the moment, (and inflow of confidence) I moved onto his laps and sat on them straddling. I took over the situation with dominance, but Chris quickly took it back when he put his hands on my ass and lifted me up to lay myself on my back on the couch.

“I wanted to do this for so long, you have no idea,” He whispered right into my lips as his hand slipped under the fabric of my sweatshirt. A long, drawn-out moan escaped my mouth as his lips found their way to the skin on my neck. I was panting hard with my mouth open. One of my hands landed between the locks of his hair that I pulled on. I cursed softly under my breath as his fingers tightened on my hip and then moved to my breasts that were still covered by the fabric of my top and lace bra.

“So damn beautiful.” His words sounded like a tune to my ears. Now, I could confirm that no compliments sounded better than those formed by Mr. Chris Evans himself. His fingers sneaked into my private part once again as they slipped under my leggings. I consciously and willingly let them do so. I was already excited, maybe even more than I wanted to admit. Rarely has a man managed to bring me to this state by not doing anything special, but Chris definitely did.

My mind was full of thoughts concerning what we were doing in this very moment. Has he already done this with some other naive aspiring actress? Am I just another name on his long list waiting to be crossed out? My morals and standards, and more importantly, my substantial self-respect were all screaming at me right about now. Unfortunately, my thirst and excitement won the arguments inside my head. “Chris, p-please,” I whispered and desperately pulled the hair at the top of his head. “F-Fuck me,” My lips finally formed a dreadful plea for more.

Chris didn't wait any longer, as if I gave him an order that he had to obey. He quickly deprived my body of all of its clothing, his hungry gaze followed my flesh this whole time. He was discovering every inch of my skin for the first time, concentrating on it as if he wanted to remember every single detail. I did not want to do any worse than him, therefore my hands also started a fight with his clothes, aggressively removing them from his body.

“Condom, I need-“ He mumbled inexplicably, the second part of his sentence was most certainly inaudible but at least I understood what he started looking for from its first part. I watched him out as his fingers grabbed the fabric of his pants. He reached out to the pocket, grabbing a silver wrapper between his two fingers, and I stared at it with a rather surprised look. He was prepared for this and I let him. He knew or at least he wanted this to happen. And I let him. Stupid girl.

My eyes followed him precisely as he returned to me. His knees settled on the couch and I opened my own wide for him to view. I licked my two fingers slowly before directing them to my pussy, slowly caressing and massaging it. Chris was watching me this whole time and his gaze was getting more and more hungry which undoubtedly stimulated all my senses.

Our eyes reconnected and we both smiled at each other at the same time. I licked my lips as I watched the rubber material slide smoothly over his swollen cock. He got closer to me and hit my entrance with his dick several times which was met with a loud moan escaping my lips. I was seconds away from begging him to push inside of me, but my needs were met with his sudden actions. Satisfied was an understatement as I felt his impressive length penetrating my inside.

From the first thrust, his hips moved quickly, with force. I felt him whole, from his core to his round tip. I felt his body pressing onto mine as his balls slapped my flesh with each movement. I tilted my head back and gasped like a wounded animal. My hand blindly travelled to his muscular torso, digging my long nails into his skin. He hissed in response, but his movements became faster, only adding extra pleasure to my private part. I felt my insides pulsing in response to his dick slamming onto me.

Chris grabbed my leg under the calf and placed my heel on his shoulder. I took advantage of this placement and stretched my leg at the knee as I placed it as comfortably as possible on his shoulder. My hand rested on my boob, which I squeezed, and his eyes rested on the new image in front of him. We didn't exchange a single word, but we both gave each other the right glances that boldly approved of every move on our part.

Feeling ecstatic to say the least, I enjoyed every moment. I needed this. I needed to forget about the world, cool my abusive emotions and relish this quick experience. He gave me precisely what I craved. Moreover, I was confident he adored it just as much, which I saw from the droplets of sweat running down his forehead and from his plump lips producing multiple curse words as his body moved within me. His chest rose quickly and fell rapidly with each hard thrust. I rolled my eyes in pleasure, unable to help myself. I was so close to the orgasm that the man of my dreams was driving me to.

Feeling his warmth inside of me made me toes curl. This was so fucking good. I could confidently say that he too enjoyed himself, which the droplets of sweat running down his forehead and a bunch of swear words escaping his plump lips indicated. His chest rose and fell quickly with each hard thrust. Unable to help themselves, my eyes rolled in great pleasure. My breathing was rapid and unsteady as he drove me to a needed orgasm. I couldn’t feel his cum inside of me but his moans and pleads ensured me of his sweet release.

We looked at each other’s eyes when our breathing finally normalized from all that we have done right on that poor couch. Thankfully, I sensed no strange atmosphere in the air that could foreshadow the end of our friendship. Everything seemed so normal, so platonic and I felt an unimaginable sense of relief. “Round two?” He scanned my face with a smirk placed on his lips and flames in his eyes. I smiled in response because no words were needed to answer his question. My legs wrapped around his hips once again, his posture bent down in order to link our lips in a kiss, indicating a fresh start to our next game.

#chris evans imagine #chris evans imagines #chris evans one shot #chris evans smut #chris evans #imagine

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kosmosguk · 4 years ago

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Fôret de Cauchemars (M)

Pairing: sleep psychiatrist kim namjoon x reader

Word Count: 6.3K

Summary: Plagued by nightmares of your boyfriend’s death, you turn to sleep psychiatrist Kim Namjoon for help. What you find in him is condolence in your isolated world, a ray of sunlight breaking through gaps of rotting leaves. What you find in him is a dream, a beautiful dream, until that dream shatters to reveal the true nightmare underneath. Sometimes, nightmares seamlessly blend into reality, and, unfortunately, waking up simply won’t make them go away anymore.

Warnings: Yandere themes, death, murder, mature themes (bondage, cunnilingus, unprotected sex), smut, violence, kidnapping, self-loathing, psychological disorders, manipulation, mentions of suicide, gore

A/N: Finally back with a fic in a...month? Sorry for the delay; the work load of classes this year has been a real bonk to the vibes, but hopefully testing out a oneshot fic will get me back in the writing energy. Happy fall, and maybe (just maybe) we’ll vibe it up with a new spooky series featuring our beloved yandere bangtan boys! Dedicated to Namjoon’s birthday (although it’s been weeks), and hopefully Jungkook’s birthday fic will be up next. Unfortunately, this means next release of Lineage might not be until October/early November, but I hope you guys stick around!

You didn’t quite know when the nightmares began.

They were unconscious little pricks of fear, the kind that crawled under your skin into your skull and left you with a cold sweat and rapid heartbeat. You always forgot them when you woke up, but their influence was engraved into your bones and etched in every sleep-deprived jolt of paranoia and every accusatory glance you threw to your empty surroundings. You felt eyes on you, even though the remnants of your fading rationality knew that there was nothing there.

Each night filled with the conflict of battling off your body’s desire to sleep left you even more exhausted and even more terrified of some nameless entity that your sleepless mind had conjured up.

The nightmares did not stop. They refused to stop; you knew you needed to solve it somehow. That brought you to the moment of now, in the present, across from a sleep psychiatrist in an office with an air condition system that blew cold gusts of air against the back of your neck and left bumps of goosebumps rising up on your skin.

You curled in on yourself, picking at the ends of your sleeves until the threads became loose, as the sound of rustling paper flipping between your sleep psychiatrist’s fingers filled up the gaps of your sleep-deprived mind. You tentatively threw a glance at the man across from you.

If you weren’t nearly irrational from the lack of sleep, you would’ve been able to truly appreciate how handsome the man was. He was the kind of handsome that artists drew portraits and sculpted of and poets waxed long pages of sonnets about. With smoky gray hair slicked back, eyes curved elegantly behind silver-rimmed glasses, and a sharp mouth set back in a firm expression, Dr. Kim was the type of beautiful that you found in every sharp edge of an icicle.

However, it was unnerving how familiar you felt with his beauty.

“(Y/n) (L/n), correct?’’

His voice, a baritone that encased the chilly office air, drew you back into your blurry reality. You heard a soft click as he turned on his stopwatch. The soft ticking noise reverberated in the still room, just a tinge louder than the blast of the air conditioning. You nodded your head mutely before reaching up to rub at your sore, burning eyes.

“Yes…,” you fought back a yawn, and your words slurred a bit as tears prickled your eyes,” Sorry…’m jus’ tired.”

His gaze, previously neutral, softened a bit more at your pitiful state.

“Though it is currently difficult right now, we’ll work through any psychological stressors that may be causing your nightmares. When did the nightmares begin?’’

You blinked owlishly at him—well, you were more like a raccoon than an owl with how severe your dark circles were, though that was a jab of humor your dwindling mind allowed you on only rare occasions—as you tried to register his words.

“Hmm,’’ you rolled your shoulders back, and a dull ache throbbed through your body as you stretched it,” I don’t…really remember. I don’t remember a lot of things now. Can’t even remember what I did yesterday… Maybe…a couple months ago? They weren’t…weren’t as bad as they are now, so I didn’t really pay attention to them.”

“Have you tried any over the counter sleep medications?’’

You scratched your neck.

Tick, tick, tick.

“Tried a few, but the nightmares didn’t seem to go away. Woke up…,” you shook yourself as if to demonstrate,” cold sweat and everything after a bit. Nightmares came right away, which is weird cause I don’t think I’m even asleep long enough to enter REM.”

“We’ll try a stronger prescription to see if it’ll help you sleep better. Has there been any troubling situations lately? Some time before the nightmares started, right when they started, or even ongoing ones?’’

You blinked again, your eyelids scraping against your dry eyes.

“Hmm…Someone, uh, passed away… My boyfriend? Maybe these nightmares are about losing him, but I dunno…can’t remember them.”

“Would you like to talk more about this?’’ Though his tone was more gentle, Dr. Kim had a look in his eyes that seemed even more chilling than the artificially generated wind against your skin.

You didn’t pay attention. It took you a lot more effort to pay attention to things nowadays and noticing tiny almost unnoticeable things was even more difficult.

“Yeah…It was tough that time. He disappeared, and they found his body. Said he killed himself, but, uh,’’ you tugged even harder on the loose threads, your eyes glued to them,’’ I didn’t even notice the signs…”

“Do you blame yourself for what happened?’’

You blinked once and then twice and then thrice. You could not look at Dr. Kim, but there was a strange shift in the air. Maybe it was a delusional mix of emotions and sleep deprivation. Maybe it was something more. You settled on the former.

The next words came out a bit more choked than you wanted them to. You thought you might’ve cried if you weren’t already so mentally and physically exhausted.

“Yeah…I was his girlfriend. Shoulda seen the signs, but I was busy, and we were drifting apart…,” you bitterly mumbled,” No excuse, though. I have no excuses…”

A silence settled between the two of you. You felt like you had just bored some piece that you had crammed in your soul so tight that it drifted into your thoughts like a second poison. You were so tired; you wanted to tuck yourself into the leather chair and fall asleep to avoid how vulnerable you felt. You noticed him level his steady gaze on you.

“No one can see the signs. People are good at hiding the worst things affecting them, even from those they care for deeply and who care for them deeply. You can’t continue to blame yourself for events in the past that cannot be changed and let that blame affect the you of the present and the future. (Y/n), the first way to conquer your nightmares is to forgive yourself.”

For the first time in the meeting, you raised your gaze to meet Dr. Kim’s gaze straight on. Your eyes, vulnerable and holding onto a devastatingly deep sorrow, were surprised to see that the look in Dr. Kim’s eyes was not as pulled together as his words were. But maybe, as you unconsciously tugged on another thread so hard that it yanked out of your sweater sleeve and drifted to your lap, that was just another one of your delusions.

Dr. Kim’s words resonated throughout your mind on your commute home. They bore a weight on your mind as you slowly shuffled throughout the rest of your day, and they rang even stronger as you laid in bed.

When you closed your eyes, you felt yourself drifting off into the land of unconsciousness. You were running in a forest, clumps of dead grass, rotting leaves, and mud staining the soles of your feet, and your breath gusted out in sharp white puffs of air. The dew of the forest left a sheen on your skin as the wind brushing against your body chilled you to the bone. Underneath the whistle of the wind, you could hear the sound of something ticking.

Tick, tick, tick.

Something grabbed your ankle, sending you sprawling to the forest floor, and you threw a frantic glance at what had yanked you down. Tears built in your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You were trying to push yourself off the floor to keep running, but the branches and roots of the trees of the forest broke out from the floor and wrapped tight around your trembling form, pinning your quaking body to the muddy ground.

You saw a glimpse of a hand and part of an arm extending itself from the forest floor, dirt crusted under the fingernails and staining the crevices of the palm. The forest floor opened up, dirt jaggedly fragmenting and cracking open, as the body behind the hand emerged. You watched, petrified from your spot to the floor. The head pushed out from the forest floor first, and your eyes made contact with the sunken eyes of your dead boyfriend. You were screaming now, your voice hoarse, but no sound coming out. The ticking sound grew louder and louder, and you were crying even harder.

He was so pale that the moonlight trickled through his almost translucent skin, a corpse that dragged itself to the land of the living, and his dark hair was matted to his forehead. There was a sticky glint to the side of his head where his hair looked more clumped. You forced yourself to tear your gaze away from it.

“Why…Why did you leave me behind?’’ his voice was like a haunting croak. You could speak now, and your voice pitched into a petrified scream.

“I didn’t mean to…! I didn’t mean to! You told me to run! You told me to run!’’ your voice broke out of your throat, and it grew and grew in an unruly crescendo. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve never left you behi-“

You drew in a sharp inhale that suffocated you, leaving the last words still on your lips as you woke up in your bed. The chill of the forest left you; you were in your bed again, the sheets and blanket messily wrapped around your body. You had been thrashing in your sleep, sending pillows down onto the floor. The room was still dark, just a few moments before dawn. You got up, the cold sweat on your body leaving you breathless, and you blindly reached down to grab your pillows and throw them back onto your bed. Instead of touching the slippery silk covers of your pillows, your fingers met something soft and cuddly.

Your fingers wrapped around a tiny, stuffed arm, and you pulled up what the item was.

A scream tore out of your lips as you threw away the item. It was the stuffed bunny your boyfriend had given you the night of your first anniversary, the last night you had seen your boyfriend before he had pushed you to keep running; this was the very item you had dropped in your run out of the forest. You had left it there.

Why, why was it here?

Your head was hurting, and you dropped the plush animal back onto the ground. You hadn’t noticed the faint blood stains. Its faux fur was too dark for you to make out the splashes of dried brown red.

No, no, what do you mean you left it there? You never went in a forest. Your boyfriend overdosed. They found his body. You weren’t there; you were at home working— You sagged against your bed as your head pounded in throbbing agony.

No, you were here. You were here, waiting for him. It was your first anniversary. He was late. He never came home. You had gotten angry and had called him several times. And then…And then, you got the phone call the next morning that they found his dead body. He killed himself. You forcibly repeated that until it was ingrained in your head, and your breathing slowed down.

The next time you woke up, the sun was blindingly warm against your face, but the nightmare had already left your body cold long before.

You were seated across from Dr. Kim again. The dark circles were even worse today, and you fought back a yawn as he clicked his pen and pressed the tip against the pristine white of his notepad. You watched through watery eyes as your name elegantly swirled out in ink on the notepad.

“I’ve been sleeping the most I’ve ever had in a while, so, uh…Hah, would that even qualify as a perk?’’ you smiled weakly,” And I can remember my nightmares now, though that in itself is exhausting me more than the nights before the remembering ever could.”

His pen stopped right at the second curve of your name. He raised an eyebrow, his demeanor still as composed as ever. He was listening. He was the only one who would listen to you now. Well, you suppose he was the only one who listened because you were paying him for each second of his time.

“That’s good to hear. Remembering your nightmares can help us continue to identify and potentially reduce the impact of your psychological stressor. Continue to talk about them. What do you see?’’

“Uh,’’ you yawned this time, your yawn so big that it cracked your jaw and filled your eyes with tears,’’ They’re a little vague.’’

“It’s okay. You’ve made progress.”

“Mmm…if you say so.’’ You scratched your wrist, your gaze on the skin,” Well…I’m in a forest. Super scary. I think it’s the one they found my boyfriend in. And I’m running. And, uh, a hand comes out and grabs my ankle, and I try to break free…but…but I can’t, the trees are coming and they’re wrapping so tight…I can’t breathe.”

Your words sped up, and you didn’t know you were choking on your own breath until you let out a strangled cough at the last word.

“Keep on going.”

“And I—,’’ you’re tearing up now, sobbing slightly as you force the next words out through ragged breaths,” I look over, and it’s him! It’s him! He’s there! He’s climbing out…and he’s asking me why. Why! I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know!’’

Your voice heightened in its pitch, and you were just a whisper below a full-on yell. Your shoulders shook, trembling as the tears spilled out and splashed against your cheeks and dripped down your chin, and you were curling further into yourself as you fought to inhale a deep breath. Dr. Kim was out of his chair, his hands stroking your shoulder gently, and he was soothing you. He was holding you now. You buried your head into the collar of his shirt, staining the cloth with tears and snot.

This wasn’t professional, but Dr. Kim made no move to get away, and you didn’t care that you were probably violating some doctor-patient code of conduct rule. It had been so long since someone held you and stroked your back so kindly.

When you finally broke away from the hug to look at Dr. Kim, Dr. Kim brushed the drying tears off of your cheek, his finger glistening with your tears. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. This was wrong. Not only professionally, but your boyfriend…You couldn’t move on from him. But you couldn’t push away the only hand that was willing to dry your tears.

You somehow managed to look at him, your cheeks feeling hot, and you shakily whispered,” I’m…I’m sorry.”

Who were you apologizing to? Dr. Kim for having a mental breakdown, though his job in the very first place was to help you with mental breakdowns? Your dead boyfriend, who was rotting away 6 feet under for finding solace in another man? Or you, poor innocent you who had suffered so much?

He tenderly smiled at you, the warm look strange compared to his usual stony expression but oh so comforting.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s normal.” He cleared his throat, his expression turning cold again, and he was back in his leather chair.

Somehow, although the two of you had resumed as if was normal, you knew something had changed. Maybe it was when his arms were wrapped around your trembling form, his touch warming up your freezing body, or maybe it was the very moment you had sat down on the sofa across from him just a few minutes ago.

Or maybe, maybe something was different between the two of you all along.

You had the same nightmare again that very night. Well, it was not like it ever really changed, not when your psychological state of mind seemed to seek its purpose in rattling every single nerve in your poor body. But something seemed even more worse than usual in your dream.

The scent of mildew was the same, damply settling on the back of your tongue and in your throat, and you could smell something rotting underneath the sickly-sweet scent. However, that wasn’t what was off in your dream.

You weren’t running for the first time. No rapid breath escaped you; your chest rose and fell in even beats. That was your first indication that something was terribly wrong.

What a horrible irony bestowed upon you.

Your fears were confirmed when you heard something small and thin and sharp snap underfoot, and you turned slowly. Your mouth fell open in horror at the sight.

There was a skeleton, one with ivory bones that gleamed underneath the waxy moonlight, and something told you that that skeleton was your boyfriend. Your gaze darted to what made that terrible crackling sound: a foot clad in a leather shoe against the delicate bone wrist of your boyfriend’s postmortem state. Your eyes trailed up and up and up until they settled onto the face of the perpetrator.

“Dr. Kim?’’ the dream you, despite the roaring screams of your thoughts, smiled a coquettish one that stretched almost painfully on your face. You took steps forward, the mud staining your bare feet, and you felt bone snap and crackle and crumble underneath your weight as you got closer and closer, and Dr. Kim laughed as he swept you up in his arms and left a loving kiss on your lips.

“My beloved,’’ his hands trailed to your waist. You felt the bone underneath your feet turn into a mass of bloody flesh and bone. There was a streak of red carnage on Dr. Kim’s face that you hadn’t noticed before,” Oh, how I adore you.”

“Dr. Kim,’’ you whispered playfully into the side of his neck,” Dr. Kim, touch me.”

His fingertips brushed underneath your skirt, toying with the fabric of your panties, and you let out a breathy sigh of laughter as you opened your legs further. A squelch of flesh and blood underneath the soles of your feet accompanied your movement. As you looked up, your eyes tenderly swept his face and took in his features.

His handsome features, his strong jaw and his softly curved lips and the indents in his cheeks dappled underneath the romantic pale moonlight peeking through the trees, looked absolutely maniacal. His voice was amused, and it swathed the crisp air of the forest in a breathy husk that left you shivering in both pleasure and thrill.

“It’s what I’ve been waiting for all along, my beloved.”

You woke up with a start. Your pajamas were sticking to your body in a feverish sweat, and you pushed yourself up and off the bed. Your body was unused to the sudden movement, and your legs froze, sending you to a tumble to the floor.

“What the,” you stayed there on the floor, unable to move. Your breath was heightened and came out in shallow pants through your dry lips. “What the absolute fuck?’’

When you finally managed to get off the floor and onto shaky legs that trembled to hold your weight, your first action was to call the office and cancel your upcoming appointment with Dr. Kim. You didn’t mind the large fee that came from this cancellation; even the thought of seeing him after what had transpired between the two of you in both reality and the imaginary world left you disgusted with yourself. You could feel the aching throb in between your legs, a neediness still settled in your veins, and the wet spot you left on your pantie. Bile rose up in your throat as your mind engulfed in self-loathing.

You turned off your phone and threw it onto your bed. It bounced off and landed by your feet on the carpet. You swallowed a shriek of ragged frustration before getting up in quick desperate movements. The uncomfortable drag of the fabric of your panties seemed to remind you only more of your shame. You felt dirty.

You needed to be clean.

You stepped into the tub, turned on the faucet, and silently stood there as the shower sprayed cold water onto your still-clothed body. Inhaling a sharp breath, you closed your eyes again.

“I’m so sorry.”

Looking back, you wondered to yourself, what were you even sorry for? Wouldn’t it have been better to be sorry for yourself?

Perhaps it wouldn’t have ended the way it did if you had done that instead. But you’ll never know now. It was too late.

The echo of the clock ticking seemed to sound over the rush of cold water. Each click and swing brushed against the other, softly like the wind that brushed through the leaves and the branches and the trees and by the roots that bounded your feet to the dirt.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

You couldn’t keep cancelling your appointments.

Some part of you didn’t want to. You hated that part of you. But it was ingrained in you. Some part of you was addicted to Dr. Kim, addicted to the way he had tenderly held you, to the way his fingers had felt against the soft skin of your cheek as he wiped away acrid tears.

You were sitting across from him again. The soft, almost inaudible but painfully audible to you ticking of his wristwatch echoed in the silent room. There was no notepad in his hands again, nor rustling of paper forms between slender fingers to fill up the tension in the room; there was only his gaze rested on you. You couldn’t breathe.

You were yanking on the threads of your sweater again. The threads, loosened, snagged on your nails, and you dropped the soft material with a mental huff of displeasure. The setting of the sun outside of the window drowned the both of you in a peaceful warm orange hue…but you knew: there’s nothing peaceful going on. Not in your heart, not in the crevices of the office, not in the way Dr. Kim coolly smiled at you as if nothing was wrong…Nothing was peaceful.

“It’s been a while since I’ve last seen you.” If you thought too hard into it, you might have perceived his words as accusatory. But he was just your psychiatrist. There was no way he was going to cross the professional boundary between the two of you. The first time was already a mistake.

Or was it?

“How are you?’’ his words sent a thrill down your spine.

You looked at him through your lashes. You couldn’t seem to think properly when he was so near you. The smell of his cologne, musky and rich, settled in your throat.

“I’m,’’ you swallowed thickly before ducking your head back down,” I’m fine.’’

“Are you really?’’

Those words seemed to break you down.

“Yeah, I’m…I’m fine,’’ the heaviness of your voice gave the truth right away, and you were sobbing. The you of before, the you back in the past when you were better, had hated crying, but something about being in this office, with the air conditioning blasting heavily at the nape of your neck and the thought of Dr. Kim, Dr. Kim, Dr. Kim left you glued to the seat in tears.

You sucked in a shaky breath, fiercely wiping away tears with your sleeves until your skin stung; you didn’t even notice the tissue box that Dr. Kim picked up and placed by you. He was closer to you now, sitting next to you on the couch in his office, and you leaned in closer to him. You felt him stroke your hair, comforting. You melted into his warmth.

“I’m s-…sorry,’’ you stammered out,’’ It’s just…It’s just I’m feeling guilty.”

“Why do you feel guilty?’’ his voice, deeper than usual, brushed hotly against your ear, and you shivered. Was it the air-conditioning that chilled you to the bone, or was it something else?

Ironically, despite the icy feeling in your gut, you could feel the heat coming to your cheeks, and you swore there must’ve been some hint of a flush that gave away the rapid pit-pattering of your heart. The guilt swelled and crashed in your chest with every thump.

“I’m guilty because…because!’’ the words dried up in your throat, and you clenched your eyes shut as you forced them out through trembling lips,” I shouldn’t be viewing someone else like this.”

“Like what?’’

“In the way I viewed my boyfriend…I’m—,’’ you swallowed thickly.

“Who do you view this way?’’ The gentle stroking of your hair halted, and you peeked open your eyes. You couldn’t meet his gaze, though, and your eyes fell back down to your lap.

“Y-,’’ you sucked in a breath,’’ You, Dr. Kim.”

Tick, tick, tick.

The ticking of his stopwatch drew your attention, and you stared at it breathlessly as you waited for his reply.

He didn’t reply right away, and your heartbeat spiked painfully in your chest. You made a move to stand up, a torrid heat swelling up in your face as tears of embarrassment and guilt and shame pricked your eyes, and you pushed away from him.

“I-I should leave. I’ll cancel my appoint—,’’ your remaining words squeezed out in a surprised gasp as Dr. Kim’s hand encircled your wrist and pulled you to him.

His lips were against yours, the kiss bitingly rough, and you let out a surprised moan as you felt his hand cradle the back of your head and pull you closer to him. He sucked your breath right out of your lungs, and you meekly realized that you were drooling slightly out of the corner of your mouth as he probed his tongue through your lips and against the warm crevices of your mouth. He sucked on your tongue, and you made a soft startled mmph against his lips.

“Dr.—Dr. Kim!’’ you managed to place a trembling hand between the small gap between his chest and yours—you briefly admired the feeling of the muscles of his clothed chest against the palm of your hand—and pried your lips from his. Your eyes had watered in a wanton surprise; you looked like sin itself with the way you trembled and quaked and breathed shakily through swollen lips, a trail of saliva glinting on the corner of your mouth. “Dr. Kim, what—what are you doing?’’

“What do you think I’m doing?’’ his lips curved in an attractive teasing smile that caused shivers to roll down your spine,” Is it a sin to view you the same way you view me?’’

You sucked in a breath and opened your mouth. No further words of protest managed to come out.

Laughter, rough and hoarse, rumbled in his throat as he took off his jacket and loosened the tie around his white collared shirt. The setting sun cast shadows and made him look almost sinister. His voice was like a purr as he spoke.

“Then we’ll sin together. On your hands and knees.”

Some part of you trembled as you heard his voice. His voice was alluring, the way it wrapped around you and dragged you, limp and terrified, into a daze. You were flat on the palms of your hands and your knees before you knew it.

You felt his hands, cool and slightly rough, against the heated flesh of your exposed thighs, and they dragged up to your skirt and pushed it higher up around your waist, leaving only the exposed fabric of your soaked panties behind.

“Dr—Mmph!’’ you were about to question him, but the drag of his finger as it peeled away the flimsy string of your panties left you shivering in bliss. You made another move to question it; you tried your best. Your arms trembled, struggling to hold yourself up, as you felt his tongue drag against the outer folds of your pussy, and then he was devouring you.

His tongue brushed and stroked against your swollen clitoris, and you made a muffled moan through clenched teeth at the spine-tingling touch. And he was shoving his tongue deep into your walls; your walls shivered and quaked and trembled and tightened around his tongue, and you heard him grunt a muffled curse before you were coming.

Your toes curled, your eyes rolled back, and your arms collapsed, sending you careening into the plush arm of the sofa.

You tried to recover, but Dr. Kim didn’t let you recover. He pushed the fabric of your panties further down, and you made a muffled sound of protest as you felt something hot and hard against your sensitive pussy.

You were panting, breathless little whimpers leaving your lips. You were so sensitive; you couldn’t handle anymore. But he was already pushing his cock in.

“Dr. Kim, I’m so…,’’ you sobbed out, your hair a mess. You made a move to twist around, but he grabbed your wrists and, using the tie he had pulled out from around his neck, tied them together. You could only press your face, breathing out high-pitched gasps and moans, against the soft arm of the sofa as he pushed deeper and deeper into you.

The sensation was almost burning the way your walls stretched around his big cock. Oh god, he was bigger than your boyfriend, and you hadn’t fucked anyone since his death. You were tearing up, ready to open your mouth and tell him to stop it, when his cock finally was fully in. It felt like it was pressing against your womb with how deep it was. You made a choked cry.

“Dr. Kim…Dr.—Oh!’’ you keened in pleasure as he pulled out, his cock dragging against your gummy walls, and then pushed back in fully. He set an unforgivable pace, his hands firmly placed on your hips, and you swore you were getting fabric burns from the rough way the pace of his thrusts sent you crashing again and against into the sofa. Your tits bounced, and he grabbed one of them with a hand, stroking the clothed hard nipple with his finger. “Please…Please slow…Mmm! S-slow…slow down!’’

He didn’t slow down. If anything, it seemed like he sped up instead. You could feel your wrists getting red from the tie, but you didn’t care. You were getting so close to your next orgasm. You were already sensitive from the first orgasm, and Dr. Kim’s cock was dragging against your walls just right. You were so, so, so close.

“Dr. Kim!” you squealed out as your walls squeezed around his thrusting cock, and your eyes squeezed shut as you clenched hard down on him. He didn’t even pause, continuing to fuck you even through your orgasm. “Dr…Nngh! Dr. Kim…!’’

You were drooling again as he continued to pound into you, your sensitive pussy trembling fervently around him. You couldn’t think, not when his cock was rearranging your insides, and you could only shiver as he chased his own orgasm with your wet pussy.

He was pounding against your cervix, the sensation leaving little pricks in the nerves underneath your skin, and then you felt him twitch. You realized, with heightened panic, that he wasn’t wearing a condom and made a panicked move to stop him, but he was filling you with hot cum and your eyes were rolling back as you reached another orgasm. He pulled out, his cum staining the bare skin of your ass, and you felt his cum ooze out slightly from your walls.

You twitched, your ass still up and your arms sore from being pinned to your back. You couldn’t move. Not when your brain couldn’t even form coherent thoughts, and you were left spent.

“With the way you haven’t moved,’’ his voice lowered to a predatory tone,’’ Fuck, you make me so hard.”

He was hard again; you could feel it against your sensitive walls before he slammed back into you. You couldn’t even make a sound of protest, not when he had already fucked you thoroughly, before he was fucking you again. You heard the sound of his hips colliding into your ass, the sinful clap of skin together and the squelch of your juices around his invading cock and the rough drag of the fabric of his pants against your flushed skin. You were making panting noises, too tired to even moan. Your cheek rubbed against the sofa as he knocked against your quivering womb with each thrust.

His thrusts were as animalistic as the first time. He fucked you like he was stealing a part of his soul. He fucked you like he craved your existence. He fucked you as if you were his. And you took it, falling into the next orgasm and whimpering as he came again, quicker this time. He was filling you up, marking you from the inside out, and you… you could only moan as he did so.

He pulled out this time, and you couldn’t even hold yourself up. Your thighs trembled, the inner skin of them coated in an obscene mixture of his cum and your juices, and you clumsily fell to the sofa. You were drifting off, your eyelids closing, and you were, for the first time in a long, dissolving in bliss.

He draped his coat over your sticky body, and you felt him stroke your hair again. His touch was gentle, so gentle. Your eyes drooped further shut.

“Did he fuck you like I did? Make you more like the whore you are?’’ his voice was low, but you could hear it. When it came to him, you could always hear him. But you were too tired. You wanted to sleep. Maybe if you slept by him, the nightmares wouldn’t come.

He chuckled at your lack of response, smoothing the strands of your hair down, and you heard the faint sound of his ticking watch. If you looked closely, through half-lidded eyes, you could make out small scratches and a single crack on the watch’s glass.

“Good night, my beloved.” His voice was like a hum. You…you remembered that. You knew that voice long before you ever sat in front of Dr. Kim. Some part of you screamed, but that part was weaker, blurred by the calming strokes of his hand over your hair and the sweet daze of sleep that kissed your eyelids shut.

You were dreaming again. It was a nightmare. You were in the woods again, the wind in your hair, and you were laughing at a joke your boyfriend said. He gave you the stuffed animal, pretty and soft and comforting, and you were giggling in delight as you hugged it to your chest.

“Babe, I love—,’’ the words died in your throat as a gunshot cracked through the crisp forest night. You were screaming now, the previous words of your love confession dying in your chest as ragged yells dragged out of your throat. He fell down, fearful-stained eyes growing glassy, and you felt a splatter of blood against your hands that stained the stuffed animal you were cradling. You were sobbing, your hands trembling as you reached out to try to touch his paling face. His lips shivered as they made one final desperate yell.

“Run!’’

You turned on your heels and made a run for it. You broke through trees and branches whipped at your fast as you ran and ran and…A hand grabbed your hair and slammed you against the tree so hard you were left winded, and you were screaming madly in grief and fear and outright hysteria as you lashed out.

“Why are you after us? Why us? Why did you kill him? Why did you kill him? WHY DID YOU KILL HIM?’’

Your fingers snagged a watch, leaving scratches on the wrist of the perpetrator, and you yanked it off the wrist in the midst of your struggle. You kicked out, frantic and desperate, and the moonlight of the night hit the perpetrator.

Dr. Kim’s face glowed underneath the waning light, his handsome features twisted in a mad glee as you thrashed and thrashed, and he was laughing through a choked breath even when your foot crashed into his rib and sent him sprawling to the forest floor.

You didn’t even wait to turn on your heel, and you were running again.

“Good night, my beloved.’’

You heard him laughing in the distance after he spoke, the sound rough and coarse and haunting, and there was that ticking again resonating from his watch still drowning in the forest floor’s mixture of mud and branches and rotting leaves.

Tick, tick, tick.

You saw the edge of the forest, the blinding light of the lamppost flickering in the distance, and your foot caught on a root protruding from the dark ground. You crashed into the ground.

You fought to get up, but the mud was soft underneath your thrashing body, and you were sinking into it. It swallowed your feet and your hands first, and you were sobbing in hysteria as it began to swallow up until your neck, and you were choking on mud as you drowned in it.

Flashes of Dr. Kim’s face flickered through your mind. His cold face, the warmth in his eyes as he wiped off your tears, the hunger in his expression as he devoured your lips, and…and his face twisted like a maniac as he dragged you against the forest tree and mockingly laughed at your struggle. He was going to finish you next, he was going to love you, he was going to break you, he was going to hold you, and he was…he was obsessed with you.

The mud filled your lungs, and you stopped coughing, stopped trying, stopped fighting. Your lips twisted in a content smile as you closed your eyes and went limp.

A/N: Leave a comment/review if you enjoyed the fic (or tell me if I made a mistake anywhere. Always a bit nerve-wracking copy and pasting from the word document I use to write). Sending my love to all of you for your support, as always!

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shyficwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Temporary Home: Chapter 4

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Things just seem to keep getting tense around here... Will Reader ever catch a break? Will Yondu ever solve the mystery?

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: This chapter is a LONG BOI. I considered splitting it, but then one chapter would have been 2k+ words and the other would have been 5k+, and for some reason I thought people wouldn't like the inconsistency lol (Feel free to weigh in. I know a few of you have said you liked longer chapters, and I haven't gotten any nay-sayers, but still thought I might as well ask lol)

And thank you to the anons and @condy-wants-a-cookie for your bad roommate suggestions! I wasn't able to add them all in, but they were all appreciated nonetheless!

Word Count: 7,321

This morning you did sleep in, but that didn't make your day much better.

You were slightly hungover, to start, and you spent most of the day in a funk trying to avoid everyone.

This wasn't completely possible, seeing as you now lived with eight other people, but the others seemed to mostly get the hint that you wanted to be left alone.

The first real interaction you had was around noon as you poured yourself some cereal and Yondu and Peter came in the backdoor to tell you they just heard gunshots from the forest.

You barely glanced at them. "Hunters." you said. "Probably hunting pigeons, but more likely they're poaching deer or fox. Happens every year."

They seemed almost surprised by your blasé attitude at hearing there were gunshots, but did seem to relax a bit that you seemed so confident. You had said you grew up here, after all.

Peter was still a little nervous however. "Do they ever come this way?"

You look up to him, knowing what he was getting at. He wanted to make sure they wouldn't happen upon your house while anyone obviously not human was outside and put them all at risk. "No. I'm pretty sure it's just a man and his boys who live a couple miles away. I've never heard the shots come closer than a mile outside the property. You're fine."

Seemingly convinced they finally left you, but you did notice no one seemed to go out until well after the last of the shots were heard, and you assumed Peter must have warned the others to stay inside just in case.

After you ate you went upstairs to grab your music, fancying a walk. However, once you got there you caught Groot sticking his tendrils in the lock of the attic door.

"What you doing there?" you say, firm enough to get his attention, but gentle enough to hopefully not to scare him.

He turned to you, pulling back his vines, looking sorry. "I am Groot."

You shook your head. "Sorry buddy, I have no idea what you're saying, let's find someone who can translate." You beckoned him to come, holding out your hand.

Groot looked sheepish, like he wasn't sure he wanted to come, but eventually he did, toddling over to you and allowing himself to be picked up.

You carried him downstairs and into the sitting room, finding everyone but Mantis, Kraglin, and Rocket sitting at the table. You walked over and asked if anyone there could translate, sitting Groot on the table.

"Sure," Peter offered, "What's up?"

"Well, I found him growing his vines into the lock of the attic door and I just want to know what he was doing." Actually, you thought you knew what he was doing. It looked like he was trying to pick the lock, what you really wanted to know was why.

Gamora looked at the tree child with both confusion and intrigue. "Groot, why did you do that?"

"I am Groot."

"No buddy, she's not going to do that. She just wants to know what you were doing to her door." Peter answered.

You raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, I forgot we have to repeat the question for him. He doesn't know what you're saying. He was worried that you were going to be mad at him like you were to Rocket last night."

You were taken aback by this. "He can't unde-? But the first night you all got here-? I asked him a question and Drax translated his answer for me?"

Drax shrugged. "It was easier to make something up than explain he won't be able to understand you because neither of you have translators. What he had really told you was that he had no idea what you said."

Yondu and Peter looked at Drax like he was stupid. It wouldn't have taken much more effort to explain. He literally just did it.

You also look at Drax. "So this whole time he hasn't been able to understand a word I've said to him?" A realization hit you. "But wait- I'm pretty sure we-" you pointed a finger back and forth between you and them, "are speaking the same language??" You were wondering if they were trying to prank you.

Gamora looked at you apologetically. She would have corrected Drax when he made up an answer for Groot that first night, but she was too exhausted to deal with it, and afterwards it just never came up again. You had spent more and more time avoiding everyone anyway. "We're actually not speaking the same language. We all have translator chips, it's how we can all understand each other. It's standard where we're from. They work both ways. It's how you can understand us and how we can understand you. However, because neither you or Groot has one, he can't understand you." She didn't go into the fact that their translators didn't actually translate Groot, or how their understanding of him only came from time spent with him and Rocket's translations. She doubted they'd be there much longer for it to make a difference anyway.

"I see," you said. You frown. "I guess that explains why he never seemed to listen."

Peter lightly chuckled at that, as did Yondu.

"Anyway," Peter said, trying to bring the conversation back to what you came for. "What were you doing to her door?"

"I am Groot."

"He said he was trying to unlock it."

"Alright, kinda figured that, but why?"

Peter repeated the question to Groot and came back with the answer, "He said he was looking for a hiding spot?"

You raise an eyebrow.

"I am Groot."

"Oh that's right, you were playing hide and seek."

"Hmm. Well that's all fine, but the attic is off limits. It's locked for a reason." you say.

"She says you can't go in there, buddy. There are monsters in there."

You give him a strange look, but he gives his head a quick shake as if to tell you not to question it. You figured he probably thought the kid would be more likely to listen if he thought there were monsters and let it go.

Groots eyes went wide and he turned to you. "I am Groot?"

Yondu answered, fighting back a grin. "Yeah, really. Now run along before we feed you to them."

Peter smacked him in the arm as little Groot hopped off the table, and Yondu laughed and held up his hands in a "What?" gesture.

Almost on cue you then heard Kraglin call out, "Ready or not, here I come!" before walking into the sitting room and encountering Groot as he ran towards the door. He looked at Groot and laughed, "I don't think you know how this game works, buddy," before turning and leaving the room himself.

You also started to leave when Drax asked, "Why is the attic off-limits?"

Gamora shot him a look for being nosy but you answered anyway. "It's.. unsafe," you lie. "Old house, you know. Don't want anyone falling through the floor."

You leave them then, saying you're going out for a walk.

Your walk wasn't too long, just along the road a ways before turning back. When you got back to the house you decided to practice your archery some more. You may or may not have pretended that a certain someone's face was the target.

When you finally did come back inside you arrived to a commotion in the hall.

You didn't know what the fight was about. You didn't ask either. All you saw was Kraglin and Rocket standing in the hall arguing about some nonsense. Drax was also there, but he was sitting down on the bench tying his boots and seemed uninterested in the argument.

Then you saw Rocket go to bite Kraglin, miss, and then settle for lunging on him and Kraglin struggling to get him off. Drax didn't really do anything other than scold Rocket, and you suspected this must be so normal for him to witness that it just didn't register anymore.

Your nostrils flared and your eyes narrowed at the scene.

Rocket attacking and Kraglin flailing.

Peter came out of the sitting room, presumably to tell them to knock it off, then he saw the murderous look in your eyes and his sentence caught in his throat as he watched you storm over.

You grabbed Rocket by the scruff of the neck and roughly pulled him off, both to his and Kraglin's surprise. Rocket actually made a noise akin to a squeak.

The others watched as you wordlessly marched the fecker to the front door, earning many angry protests from the Raccoon on the way for you to let him go as he kicked and squirmed.

Hearing the sudden change in the commotion, this prompted Gamora and Yondu to join Peter in the doorway. Yondu, out of curiosity, and Gamora out of concern.

You jerked the door open, and told Rocket to take a walk before tossing him out like a rag doll, mercifully onto the grass. He landed and stared back in a mix of shock and anger, too stunned to think of running back towards you. "You can come back in when you stop wanting to being such a damn asshole." you told him, promptly shutting the door and spinning the deadbolt.

You didn't look at the others as you turned on your heels and made your way up the stairs to your room.

They stared at each other in the hallway, wondering if they had really just witnessed what they saw, and if they should do anything about it.

On one hand, you just literally threw their friend outside.

On the other, maybe it would cool him down to go for a walk?

In the end they decided not to intervene, see how it played out. Way they saw it there were two possible outcomes. One outcome, Rocket takes his time out and actually comes back calmer and ready to be civil. The other outcome, he spends his time out getting more pissed and then rips your face off when you finally let him back in.

The real outcome, however, was less conclusive.

You decided rather than waste the pasta one of the others bothered to save from the previous night, you'd re-make the sauce and heat the spaghetti and serve it for dinner that night.

You called the others to the kitchen and told them to serve themselves before leaving the kitchen. Fortunately there were no accusations of poison this time, but that could have been because Yondu saw which door of the kitchen you exited from and figured you were going to call Rocket back inside.

He was right.

You open the front door and call out into the open, "Hey, Rocket! If you've decided you want to play nice then come inside and eat!" You resisted the urge to call him 'shit-head' instead of his name. More flies with honey and all that.

You waited a bit and then saw Rocket turning the corner of the house to approach the front door. He didn't say anything, just grouchily shuffled inside and you followed in behind him. You didn't say anything either, trying not to antagonize too much.

When you saw everyone else was served you made a plate and took your dinner in your room. No one questioned. At the urging of Gamora they were still trying to give you your space.

They only hoped things would be less tense tomorrow.

***

The next time you were seen wasn't until a little before midnight, when Yondu happened to glance out the window as he was tucking into bed and saw your shadowy figure walking towards the forest in the moonlight.

He frowned. Once was odd. Twice only made him that much more curious. What was nearly the tipping point of his curiosity was the fact that he realized he would never hear you leaving the old house, which to him implied you were sneaking out. Sneaking out of your own house. The hell?

What the hell was out there that you kept disappearing to at night? Where you disappeared to when Rocket ruined dinner?

Next time he was going to stay up and catch you before you left.

***

Starting out things were indeed NOT less tense the next day.

Your day started out with Kraglin accidentally walking in on you when you had just gotten out of the shower. Fortunately for both of you you had literally just wrapped the towel around yourself before he opened the door, but that didn't make anything less awkward, or either of your startled screams less shrill.

He tried to apologize later, but you'd only responded with "Let's just never speak of it again."

Then you went to grab some breakfast, you thought toast would be nice. Only when you got into the kitchen the toaster was nowhere to be found. Maybe you put it in a cupboard? You opened the press where you might have put it, only to find your cooking pans instead.

That wasn't the particular cupboard where you kept your pans, however, and you began to have a sinking feeling as to what might have happened.

You opened another cupboard and finally found the toaster alongside the blender- again, not where they were supposed to be. You then went to find a knife, and wouldn't you know it, all your silverware was gone and replaced with towels.

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

"Do you like it?"

You turned to see Mantis and Drax beaming like they did a good deed. "What?"

"We re-arranged the kitchen." Drax said. "Rocket said it was a Terran custom and you'd be very happy."

You rub a hand down your face. Fecker pulled another prank. "And you believed Rocket why, exactly?"

Drax and Mantis shared a look, as if they just realized it wasn't a smart idea to believe Rocket. They only grimaced apologetically back at you with an "Um..."

After a moment Mantis asked if you were mad.

You look at them for a bit before saying, "No. I'm not mad. I'm not happy about it, but I'm not mad. But, you two are going to help me put everything back."

They nodded quietly and got to work. It took an hour to get it straight again.

After you finally got to eat you decided to tend your garden again. It didn't need much weeding, so you decided to work slow to avoid going back inside for a bit. Mantis had also come outside with you and went over to play on the swing. She had seemingly become quite fond of it in her short time here.

After perhaps ten minutes you heard a snap and a startled cry and turned to find Mantis now on the ground. The old rope had finally snapped.

Mantis looked up at you and sheepishly said, "Sorry, I broke your swing."

You look at her in exhaustion. "It's fine. Not your fault, it was old. You ok?"

Mantis nodded and headed back inside as she rubbed her smarted behind.

You turn back to your garden. Today might be another archery day.

Instead of archery you thought of another idea. Rocket had complained about sleeping in the crib at least five times since he got here, probably more when you weren't around to hear it. Maybe you could build him a little bed as a peace-offering. Maybe he'd be less insufferable if you fixed the problem he was always complaining about.

You already knew you had enough wood in the shed to do it, and you already knew the crib fit a 120 X 60 cm mattress, so you'd just build the bed to the same dimensions as the crib so the mattress would still fit- you weren't going to go to that much trouble for the shithead. And as a bonus, this was also another way to keep busy.

You sketched out a quick plan on an old notepad you kept in the work shed and got to work cutting the pieces.

It was a simple design, but one that still required the bed legs and headboard to be joined and clamped together, same as the footboard. This meant you wouldn't be finished by tonight, especially not if you decided to stain it, which was fine by you. You weren't exactly in a rush.

You did what you were able to of the bed frame before heading back inside, maybe a little more than an hour later to grab something quick for lunch. Rocket was already in the kitchen eating something out of a little packet that looked unfamiliar to you. More alien food, you thought.

He looked up at you as you walked in with a raised eyebrow. "What you been up to?"

You looked down to where his gaze met and saw you still had a bit of sawdust on your jeans. You brushed it away and said, "Nothing."

He eyed you before his expression changed to a grin. He thought he'd have a little fun with you, slight revenge for the previous day when you threw him outside. Nothing much, just something to take "Miss Cranky-Ass" down a peg. He looked at you innocently. "Hey, you want to try one of these? They're good."

You eye him suspiciously. Every instinct you had told you not to trust him.

Rocket could tell you weren't biting. "Look, I know things have been tense between is, but consider it a peace offering." He held out the bag and kept grinning.

Not a chance.

Peter walked into the kitchen at that moment, just the person you needed to see. You got his attention, "Hey, Peter, what's this little fecker trying to do to me?"

Peter looked confused. "What?" he asked.

"He's offering me whatever those purple things are, and I think you could forgive me for not trusting it right away."

Rocket made a show of looking offended, "I'd never-"

Then Peter got a look at the bag and shot Rocket an annoyed look. "Yeah, do not eat that." he warned. He looked at Rocket. "You know Terrans can't eat xanti-berries." He looked back at you, "Seriously, don't eat them. You'll be shitting yourself the rest of tonight and tomorrow."

Your eyes widened and you looked at Rocket bitterly. Your instincts had been right. Can't trust the little shit. And to think you were making him a bed so he didn't need to sleep in the crib.

Rocket was now snickering, saying to Peter, "Come on- I mean we know that's what happens to you-" More snickering. "But maybe it's just a you thing-" Snickering now turns to laughing. "Maybe- Maybe she'd be fine. AHAHA!"

The little beast was now fully laughing at his own joke.

"Yeah, no thanks," you say, turning to grab a granola bar instead.

Peter shooed still laughing Rocket out of the kitchen. "I'm sorry about him, he's-"

"An asshole?" you finish for him.

Peter rubbed the back of his head, "Yeah..." he said with an apologetic look. He could tell you were past tired of his friend's bullshit, which was bad because they hadn't even been there a full week yet.

You shook your head and went to eat in your room, maybe you'd scroll some tumblr.

***

Not much later after you had gotten bored refreshing the page, you thought you'd look for a book to read in the sitting room, and walked in on Rocket and Peter arguing over what to watch. This eventually lead to the remote being flung across the room and just narrowly missing the TV.

You rub your temples and sigh. "You know, if you break that, I'm not replacing it."

"Oh yeah, you think we're gonna replace it?" Rocket snarked.

You looked at them. "That's not what I said, is it? I said I'm not replacing it. Meaning if you break it, there just won't be one. I'm not going to reward bad behavior by replacing it if you break it."

You heard Rocket mutter, "Whatever," and not long after you started hearing the noises of them bickering and smacking at each other again.

"Enough!" you say in a loud, firm voice that honestly startled Peter a bit and caught the attention of Kraglin from the table where he was doing a puzzle he found on a shelf. Your desire to find a book forgotten you left the sitting room, saying, "God, you act like children!"

You passed Gamora on your way out and said, "How do you deal with them?!" You continued on without waiting for an answer and Gamora shot a disapproving look at the pair on the couch, clearly unhappy that they were still finding ways to piss you off.

You went back into the kitchen, retrieved a glass from the cupboard, the whiskey bottle from the other night from the fridge, and sat at the table.

Yondu walked in about ten minutes later. "Starting a little early, I see." He wasn't actually sure if it'd be early to start drinking by Terran customs or not, but he knew from when he still had his crew and the Eclector, his crew typically weren't allowed to start in until all their day's duties were done, which, not always, but usually wasn't until after dinner. Outward appearance would have suggested otherwise, but he kept a tighter ship than one might think. Couldn't have someone piss drunk on the job and fucking everything up, now could he? That's not to say the crew always listened... but they were well aware of the consequences of getting caught drunk on the job.

You only answered back with a, "There are glasses in the cupboard if you want some."

Yondu chuckled and went for a glass, not one to refuse a drink.

As soon as he sat down you stood up. "I'll be back." you announce.

Yondu poured himself a glass and you shortly returned with another bottle of whiskey from the cellar. "Bottle was almost gone," you explain, setting the new bottle on the table and re-taking your seat.

Yondu looked at you, amused, but also mildly wondering where you had retrieved a second bottle from. He had never been bothered to explore the cellar. If he had he would have known you kept most of your unopened alcohol down there, where it could stay cool without needing a refrigerator.

Yondu took a sip, and almost recoiled, having not expected this Terran stuff to be quite so strong. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle, mind you, but he had honestly just assumed Terran whiskey would be weak. From experience with Peter, the boy always got piss drunk after only barely a couple shots of Xandarian liquor, which wasn't very strong, so he just assumed Terrans had a naturally lower tolerance. Now he just supposed Quill was a lightweight.

"Anything on your mind?" Yondu asked. If you were sitting here drinking alone surely there must be.

You glance up. "Nope," you say, as you down the rest of your glass. You pour another.

"Uh huh... right. That's why you look like a grump-ass sitting here drinking all by yourself then."

You give him a look, gesturing to him with your glass. "You're sitting right there aren't you? Looks like I ain't alone."

Yondu chuckled and shook his head. Cheeky shit. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Nope."

Yondu grinned and pointed at you knowingly. "Gotcha."

"What?" you say, confused by his tone.

"Ya said ya don't wanna talk about it. Means there's somethin' on yer mind."

You look at him through narrow eyes and take another sip.

"What is it? Tired of Rocket's shit? Don't blame ya. Rat can be a real asshole."

You sigh.

"So it is the rat, then?"

"Quit," you say, taking another drink and looking at him sternly.

Yondu held up his hands and backed off. "Alright. I won't push it."

"Push what?" came Peter's voice from the doorway as he and Kraglin walked into the kitchen. Peter grabbed a snack from the pantry and tossed one to Kraglin.

"Cool, didn't realize we were starting a party" Kraglin joked, referring to the two whiskey bottles on the table and you and Yondu sitting there with your glasses.

Figuring you might as well offer them some you motioned to the cupboard again. "Glasses up there. Might as well join us."

You didn't have to ask them twice. Peter got down a couple glasses and Kraglin poured them some drink.

Peter nodded to the two bottles and joked asking if you were trying to see who could outdrink the other.

You shrugged. "Nah. If we were to do that, he'd need to catch up."

Yondu laughed. "You don't wanna go there, missy. I'll drink ya under the table before you knew what hit you." He chuckled and elbowed Kraglin in the arm, who snickered, knowing full well Yondu could drink like a tank.

You rolled your eyes. "Like I said, you'd need to catch up to me first. I'm about four ahead of you.

Yondu's head snapped back to you glancing from your drink to you. "Four?" You must be joking. You weren't even tipsy yet that he could tell.

You were unable to hold back a laugh. "Nah, I'm only messing with you." You downed your glass. "I'm two ahead after that one." You poured yourself another glass. You grinned slightly. "Again, do I need to wait for you to catch up?"

Yondu grinned at you, his eyes almost inquisitive. "Ya really sure ya wanna do that?" He was confident you didn't stand a chance.

Peter laughed. "What, you scared she'll outdrink you?"

Yondu rolled his eyes and downed his glass. "No. Jus' concerned she'll hurt herself tryin'," he laughed.

Now you rolled your eyes. "Fine. Don't. I'll accept your admission of defeat." you say with a shrug as you take another sip. This was almost definitely the buzz talking. You weren't a lightweight, but you still weren't exactly the heaviest drinker.

Peter and Kraglin hid giggles behind their glasses as Yondu gave you a hard look and poured himself another glass and downed it.

"There, I'm caught up." he said, pouring himself another glass to match you. "I'll give you one more chance to back out, sweetheart."

You down your glass. "I ain't your sweetheart, grandpa."

Yondu narrowed his eyes and downed his as well. "Then it's on, pipsqueak."

"Ooh-hoho. You're gonna regret that." you say, unable to hold back a grin as you poured another round for the two of you.

Peter and Kraglin were now openly laughing at the show as they sipped their drinks.

Yondu tipped his glass to you and took a sip. "We'll see." He wasn't really concerned with the drinking game. He was fairly certain he'd win. He did, however, think the whiskey might loosen your tongue, get you to talk to him. Maybe he'd eventually get around to asking why you lived in such a big place by yourself or what was in the forest that you kept walking into.

You followed his lead, sipping your current glass rather than downing it right away. Maybe it was the buzz starting to talk, but you suddenly were curious about something. "I don't think you guys ever told me why you needed to go into hiding in the first place."

"Fury didn't tell you?" Peter asked.

"Nope. He was too busy moving you guys in and changing up my house and getting into my shit to mention it." you say, taking another sip.

Yondu also sipped. Tongue loosening: Check.

"Well it's kinda a long story," Peter began, "but short version, we were hired to do a job for these people, and we did it, but then Rocket insulted them, and stole their shit, and now they've vowed vengeance."

"And they ain't the forgivin' type." Kraglin added.

"No. Definitely not," said Yondu mournfully, taking another sip. Bad enough his crew mutinied and he blasted his ship to hell, now he had to go into hiding. Yondu Udonta doesn't hide... unless forced to by the Nova Corps because he joined his boy's little team of galaxy savers, apparently... He supposed it was better than jail. He should really thank Peter for pulling those strings sometime.

"Anyway, so when the Nova Corps heard about it they insisted we go into hiding until they could try and smooth it over."

"Hmm." You say, finishing your glass. "So they're trying to beg for your lives, is that it?"

Peter shrugged awkwardly. "More or less."

"They must really like you." you laughed, looking down as Yondu poured everyone another round.

"They should," Yondu said. "He saved the galaxy twice."

Peter looked at him and he tried to hide how his heart swelled. Receiving praise from the blue man for things other than thievery was still new to him, but he didn't exactly hate it.

Yondu ignored his gaze. He wasn't about to get caught up in sentiment. He changed the subject. "Why don't ya tell us a little about yerself?"

You pretended to think a bit before taking a drink and saying, "Hmm... Nope."

Yondu held back a sigh. Tongue loosening: Un-Check. He tipped back his glass and nodded to you, as if to challenge.

You tipped your glass back in turn and as you poured another Yondu taunted, "I think that was five now, sure ya don't wanna slow down?"

You give him a patronizing look. "Is that your way of saying you give up?" You started to giggle behind your hand when Yondu's expression read 'Oh please.' and he finished his glass to keep the pour even between you.

Kraglin grinned wide and nudged Peter, "Eh, Pete, tell her about that time you got stabbed for flirting with that A'askvarii chick."

Peter's eyes widened and he looked at Kraglin, "Not cool, dude!"

Yondu chuckled and you just looked at Peter inquisitively, having no idea what an 'A'askvarii' was. Before you could ask Yondu spoke up.

"If I remember correctly he didn't get stabbed for that one. Kree girl tried to rip out his thorax. He got stabbed for trying to pull a runner on a Rajack girl." Yondu said, grinning before taking another drink.

Peter glared at him. "New topic." He looked at you. "What got you into archery?"

You sighed through your nose. You supposed it was an innocent enough question. "Dad taught me. How'd you'd come about living in space?"

Peter made a face and downed his drink. "Uh, long story, another time..." How would he explain that the reason he was in space was because his Celestial father sent the man sitting next to you to abduct him... and make it not sound awful? Better think of something lighter. "Uh... Got any family around or is it just you?"

You eyes narrowed. Your former giddiness visibly left you.

'Oh no.' Peter thought. That apparently wasn't lighter... You must not get along with your family. He tried to fix it. "Ok, touchy subject- I mean... Oh look, your glass is empty!" He quickly poured you and him another round.

You actually almost laughed at that, and a slight grin cracked your face.

Yondu saw how your expression changed and incorrectly assumed that it meant you weren't actually that irritated by Peter's question. He then took that incorrect assumption to pose his own question. "So, you didn't quite answer the other night, and I'm still curious. How come it's just you in this big old house?"

This prompted Kraglin to add his own question. "Yeah, and I've been wondering too, how's come you don't keep any photos?"

Your glare returned. You sat your glass down and stood up saying in a slightly slurred speech, "I have to pee." and excused yourself from the table, stumbling a bit as the alcohol hit you. You righted yourself, earning a chuckle from Peter and Kraglin, who knew too well that it's always easy to believe you aren't as drunk as you are until you stand up and the room spins.

Yondu also laughed, but internally cursed himself. He wasn't gonna get any answers like this. He hoped that maybe there was still a chance to save it when you got back. He saw a hint of pain in your eyes just before you left, and it made him want to know why. He felt he was so close to putting the pieces together.

***

You head to the bathroom irritated at being asked the personal questions. Leave it up to your new house mates to ruin your buzz.

You only got more irritated upon entering the bathroom, however.

Someone had left their wet towels on the floor. Rolling your eyes in annoyance you kicked them aside to make your way to the toilet. Mercifully you didn't find any unpleasant surprises waiting inside it like you had been. Peter must have gotten the "Flush the damn toilet!" message through to Drax. However, once you had done your business you found that someone couldn't have been bothered to replace the toilet roll properly, just having sat it on the roll holder.

You sigh irritably and replace it properly yourself. Yes, it could have been worse. They could have not replaced it at all and forced you to do a mini walk of shame to the sink cupboard to retrieve it, but you were too cranky to look at the bright side.

Then you went to wash your hands, only to see someone had smeared toothpaste all over the sink, a big pet peeve of yours. Your nostrils flared and you muttered to yourself as you washed that you weren't going to clean it. Screw that.

You went to dry your hands, and find there was no towel to dry them. You gritted your teeth and ripped a towel from the small closet, hanging it on the hook when you were finished.

Before leaving the bathroom you tried to gather yourself, taking a deep breath and telling yourself to calm down. It would be ok. You were just a little drunk. It wasn't that big of a deal. You were going to go back out and try to have some fun drinking that blue bastard under the table. (This, of course, was the alcohol talking. False confidence. You really did never stand a chance of outdrinking the Ravager captain.)

You start to open the door, and that's when you reach your breaking point.

***

After you left, Kraglin nudged Peter again, whispering the words, "A'askvarii girl," to him and giggling like a child.

Peter smacked him in the arm, "Quit it! That was one time! And I was only trying to get information! Tell him Yondu!" He tried to look angry, but the whiskey was having its usual effect on him, making him a giggly little bitch.

Yondu only grinned and shook his head. "I dunno boy, you were a little too convincing if ya ask me... Nobody asked you to sleep with her."

Kraglin bust out laughing at Peter's face, which was an odd mix of horror, drunken mirth, and "Dammit, you got me." He playfully shoved Peter and Peter shoved back with a "You suck!" which prompted Kraglin to squeeze his side, which of course made Peter jolt with a laugh and smack him away.

Kraglin only did it again and Peter laughed out a "Quit it!" while smacking him again.

Yondu just rolled his eyes and chuckled, sipping his whiskey as he watched his boys mess around like they did when they were younger on the Eclector.

After a pinch to the knee Peter bolted off his chair, only to have Kraglin follow, laughing, "Come back 'ere, ya coward!" He got Peter in a headlock and started to give him a noogie.

Peter laughed and managed to worm away, taking off into the hallway.

Yondu watched in amusement as Kraglin followed Peter out of the kitchen, and listened as the sounds of their shenanigans took them from the front door down the hall. That's when he heard the sound of a door slamming and a loud cry of "OW! Mother---FUCKer!" that sounded suspiciously like you.

'Oh shit,' he thought, standing from the table to go inspect the damage.

***

It had all happened fairly quickly.

You had opened the bathroom door maybe a foot before it slammed back in your face. Literally in your face. You recoiled and swore loudly, the flash of pain made your eyes water and you saw red before you even realized you were bleeding.

Kraglin and Peter jerked away from the door in startled shock after hearing you cry out. They had only been horsing around when their antics caused Peter to fall back into the door just as you opened it. They jumped when the door slammed back open with an incredible BANG against the wall, and their eyes went wide when they saw you standing there, murderous rage in your eyes and blood running from your nose down your chin.

Maybe it was because he was the nearest person, or maybe it was because he instinctually held up his hands and said "Sorry! Sorry! It was an accident!" but Peter was the one you lunged at.

You grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him into the wall, nearly a week's worth of frustration and rage channeled through you as his body connected with the plaster.

Peter, not just going to stand there and let himself get beaten up, tried to grab your wrists and get you off him, but you evaded his attempts and punched him in the stomach.

This slightly knocked the wind from him, but he managed to grab your wrist and push off from the wall. He spun you around and tried to restrain you in a bear hug, saying, "Take it easy!" but you only dropped to your knees and lurched forward, flipping him over your back towards the front door.

Kraglin looked to Yondu, who watched from outside the kitchen door near the end of the hall. His gaze asked what to do, but Yondu only shrugged and didn't try to intervene. He knew Peter could handle himself and he was sure you needed to let off some steam, so he just enjoyed the show.

The commotion brought the others in though. Gamora and Mantis flew down the stairs, while Rocket, Drax, and Groot stepped out of the sitting room to witness the fight with wide eyes. They didn't know what had happened, but you looked ready for the kill, and to the few who could see it from their vantage, you looked almost terrifying with your bared teeth full of blood.

You now straddling Peter, attempting to throw a punch when he blocked it and flipped the two of you over. He breathlessly told you to settle down as you struggled, but you wouldn't hear it. If anything it seemed to make you more pissed off, and Gamora's cries for the two of you to stop fell on deaf ears.

You kneed Peter in the stomach and flipped the two of you back over. You weren't sure what next possessed you, but you threw your head down and sank your teeth into his shoulder.

Peter threw his head back and cried out in pain, mixing in a few curses as well.

Yondu cocked his head, seeming unsure on whether he wanted to be impressed or not to see you, Miss SHIELD Agent, fight dirty. Kraglin finally spoke up to say, "Hey, hey, now! No bitin'!" as if he were refereeing a wrestling match.

Right about then you felt large strong hands grip you about the waist, surprising you into releasing your bite on Peter as they pulled you off of him. The arms moved from your waist to secure your wrists and before you knew it you were being restrained in half a bear-hug by one very strong arm as you were turned away from Peter and pulled towards the front door.

Drax paused to open the door and, turning you to face him, flatly said. "You need to take a walk."

"Drax!" Gamora hissed, appalled that he was throwing their host out of her own house, despite the circumstances.

Rocket, of course, laughed and asked how you liked it, like an asshole. It was only then he saw the blood around your nose and mouth and his expression changed slightly to reflect his shock, now wondering if you had actually taken a chunk out of Peter when you bit him. Were you some kind of maniac?

You spat blood at him, only for it to land on the floor at his feet as he was standing too far away, and then slammed the door behind you on your way out.

Gamora came the rest of the way down the stairs to inspect Peter's shoulder, seeing the blood on his shirt.

"It's fine," he assured, "It's hers, not mine. See, she didn't break skin." He pulled back his shirt to prove it. "I think I accidentally broke her nose though. That's what started it."

Gamora looked at him in confusion. "You broke her nose?! What the hell, Peter!"

"It was an accident!" he said again.

Gamora took a step back. "Ok. Tell me what happened. Start from the beginning."

"Well, we were all drinking-"

Gamora threw up her hands. "Oh, well that explains everything!" she interrupted bitterly. Dumb stuff almost always seemed to happen when those guys and alcohol mixed.

Rocket spoke up. "You were drinking and didn't invite us? Rude."

Gamora threw him an unamused look. "Not the point, Rocket."

Peter tried again. He explained he and Kraglin joined you and Yondu drinking, you got up to use the bathroom, he and Kraglin started horsing around, and one thing lead to another until he fell back against the door as you were coming out of the bathroom and it must have hit you and pissed you off.

Gamora looked at him. So it really had just been a big drunken accident. She also then realized Drax had not only just threw their host out of their own house, but threw you out while you were also drunk, broken and bleeding.

They were sooo getting kicked out.

"We should call her back in." said Gamora. "You shouldn't have thrown her out, Drax. This is her home. We're only guests."

Drax looked confused. "Why? It worked with Rocket. I thought I was helping?"

"Don't bother trying," said Yondu nonchalantly. "Bet she's already well into the forest by now."

They looked at him. "How would you know that?" Gamora asked.

He shrugged. "It's where she went the other night she got mad. Saw her heading there out the window when Rat there destroyed the kitchen and ruined diner." He left out the bit that he'd also seen you head there in the middle of the night too. He was saving that bit of mystery for himself to solve.

Rocket just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms at being called out for his past grievances. It got cleaned, didn't it?

"I'm sure she'll come back when she's ready," Yondu added. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't tempted to go look for you, if for no other reason than to see where you kept going to out there, but he had a feeling that if you didn't want to be found, he wouldn't find you. He might have some experience tracking, but he couldn't also forget what you did for a living. While he might not know much about what your job entailed, he got the feeling you weren't just some desk-jocky.

Besides, if you found your way back, drunk, the other night, he was sure you could do it again.

Begrudgingly Gamora agreed to wait.

And wait they did.

#gotg #guardians of the galaxy #x reader #yondu udonta #peter quill #kraglin obfonteri #Groot #Drax #rocket raccoon #mantis #gamora #star lord #drinking #fighting #mystery #room mates

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alinastracker · 4 years ago

Note

If you’re still doing the prompts I have oneeeee hehe

" i mean... i-i'm cool with sharing the bed if you are. "

you got it baby 🥰

but i know something’s starting right now

It’s a sweltering Ravkan summer day, but nothing brings heat to her body like watching Mal in the pool, water droplets racing down his chest. His shaggy hair is a mop on his head, and she realizes this is what he must look like in the shower.

This is exactly why she didn’t want to bring him on the trip.

It’s the first week of July, and for the past three years, that’s meant a trip to the Os Alta Resort with Genya and Zoya. It’s a way for them to relax after exams and catch up now that they all attend different schools. But at the end of May, the two of them had FaceTimed her about a change for this year.

“We were thinking of taking the boys with,” Genya says gently, nervous for her reaction.

Zoya is frank as ever. “It’s cheaper that way. Besides, after all this long distance, I could use a week of uninterrupted fuc—”

“Zoya!”

“Relax, Starkov. We’re all adults here.”

“Anyway,” Genya cuts in. “We’re just telling you in case you wanted to bring someone, too. Maybe Mal?”

“Mal and I aren’t dating.”

Only in her dreams.

“Might as well be,” Zoya mutters.

So in the choice between bringing Mal on what has basically turned into a couple’s retreat and going to said couple’s retreat alone, she’s chosen the former. It would be fine. Mal knows her friends. Him and Nikolai like to talk sports. Maybe it’ll be a little weird, being the only non-couple, but they could deal.

It would have been fine, if it weren’t for this morning’s check in.

"So it looks like we have you booked for three single rooms," the concierge says.

Alina frowns. "One of those should be a double."

The concierge checks again, each click of his mouse making her anxiety rise. He frowns. "Sorry, miss. It's showing me all singles."

"It's fine," Mal says. "Could we just upgrade it to a double, then?"

"Er, I'm afraid we're all booked, sir."

Nikolai claps his hands together, cheerful as ever at Zoya's side. "Well, I'll just switch with Alina, and Mal and I can — shit, Zoy!"

Zoya had stomped on his foot.

"We are not switching shit," she hisses under her breath.

Nikolai sighs. "My deadly dearest, certainly it's no big deal—"

"I bought us a new toy for this trip. We are not switching."

There is a brief moment where everyone freezes, then Genya groans, shaking her head as she murmurs apologies to the concierge, who is trying hard to pretend he hasn’t heard a thing. The tips of Mal's ears go red, and Alina is sure hers match. David, lost in his audiobook, is oblivious to all of it.

Nikolai clears his throat and turns to the two of them with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, mate. You're on your own."

The concierge slowly raises a finger and says, "We might be able to supply a cot?"

Alina can feel everyone's eyes on her, which is the last thing she ever wants. She has the strong desire to curl in on herself, but that only really works in the winter when she dons large coats and sweaters. But it’s summer, and she is in only a mustard yellow crop top and jean shorts, though she suddenly feels as exposed as if she were completely naked.

Mal takes one look at her and gently nudges his foot against hers. "I mean . . . I'm cool with sharing the bed if you are?"

Her brain is looking for anyway out of this whole conversation, so she nods.

So far, they have been in their room once to drop off their things and change into bathing suits, both of them dancing around the bed without ever touching it. The air in the room feels charged even with sunlight still pouring in. What would tonight be like?

More importantly, how was she supposed to handle sleeping beside him when she can’t even handle watching him in the pool?

Genya climbs on Mal’s shoulders for a game of chicken — David is, unsurprisingly, not in the pool, but sitting beside Alina on a lounge chair. She feels a pang of something like jealousy as she watches the game commence, which cannot be more ridiculous.

They can’t avoid the night forever, and it comes much too quickly despite how long they spend mingling at the resort bar. In their room, Mal lets Alina use the bathroom first. A kind offer, she thinks, until she realizes it leaves her to stake out a spot on the bed first. No more dancing.

Left side or right? Does Mal have a preference? Does she? How long until Mal finishes in the bathroom and comes out to see her staring at the bed like a mental person?

Right side, she chooses finally. She curls up on the left side of her body usually, so this way, she doesn’t have to face him as they sleep. Good call. As she untucks the covers from the bed, she secretly hopes to find something horrifying, like blood or bugs, so they can get a refund and leave. Sadly, it is a perfectly fine bed. Alina plops onto it and tucks herself in.

Mal finishes in the bathroom a few minutes later, and if he’s as rattled about their sleeping arrangement as she is, he does not show it. There’s plenty of space between them as he settles into bed. Maybe this won’t be as bad as she feared.

“Well, goodnight,” Mal says through a yawn.

“Goodnight,” Alina replies.

They each turn off their bedside lamps. Mal is softly snoring soon after, but Alina stays awake much too long for her liking, thinking of how close he is.

They fall into a similar routine for the next couple nights. During the day, all is fine. Their little group meshes well. Genya and Nikolai are often off together, both of them on a mission, it seems, to try every flavor of ice cream from Os Alta's ice cream bar. Or sometimes it’s Nikolai and Mal running off, joining a game of pool volleyball, both of them stupidly competitive. When Zoya gets annoyed with the overload of children at the waterpark, she joins David on one of the lounge chairs to read for a while — Zoya a smutty historical romance and David a nonfiction on modern space travel. We just shouldn't let Jeff Bezos come back, he argues to Genya later, while Zoya murmurs to Nikolai something she wants him to do to her that night.

Alina thanks the saints her room isn’t next to Zoya’s.

The trip is going so smoothly that she doesn’t realize what trouble Sunday brings with it. It’s always their favorite part of the trip: bottomless margarita night. They all have absolutely horrific, hilarious pictures and videos of themselves from the past three years thanks to bottomless margarita night at Os Alta. But the thought of being drunk like that while she’s sharing a bed with Mal?

Okay, so she just won’t drink tonight. Problem solved.

“You can’t not drink!” Zoya says, personally offended.

“Come on, it’s tradition!” Genya agrees.

But she’s determined to hold out. Only when she sees the others with their drinks, she decides one sip won’t hurt. One sip becomes one drink, and one drink becomes a couple. Soon enough, she’s drunk enough to sign herself up for karaoke, another Os Alta tradition.

“I dunno what I should siiiing,” she slurs, swaying lightly on her feet.

“I have the perfect song for you!” Genya cheers excitedly.

So that’s how she ends up on stage, drunk off her ass, horridly singing Taylor Swift’s We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together. She really gets into it, jumping and nailing the talking parts a little too well. But she can hear Genya and Zoya screaming the lyrics along with her, and it only encourages her.

Genya records a Snapchat of her performance, snickering to Mal and David about how she’s going to accidentally send it to the asshole Alina dated last year who’s still entirely too obsessed with her.

Nikolai is the only one of the boys drunk enough to sign up, taking the stage after Alina to perform a disgustingly off-key version of Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now. They all agree that Freddie Mercury is rolling in his grave.

By the end of the night, the four of them are totally wasted. David, who had spent the night nursing one drink, his focus on getting Genya her drinks and ensuring that she didn’t trip over herself, has to help the aforementioned redhead up to their room. Nikolai and Zoya are a sight, both wickedly drunk, trying to help each other stay upright. Mal had only downed a couple drinks and is mostly sober, which Alina is very thankful for, as she can’t hold herself up to save her life. She nearly trips on absolutely nothing so many times that Mal finally scoops her into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way to the room. Alina giggles the whole way.

There’s no getting ready for bed that night. Mal sets her on the bed, and she resigns to sleeping in her red summer dress. When Mal joins her after having a shower, drunk Alina has no qualms curling up against him and sniffing him.

“Mm, you smell good,” she hums.

Mal chuckles even as he tenses. Alina has her arm around him and her face pressed into his side. He’s not sure he can breathe. She’s too drunk to notice the blush on his face.

“That’s probably just because you smell like alcohol,” he hedges.

Alina giggles and shakes her head. “No, you always smell good.”

He doesn’t know what to do with this information, but he does a lot of thinking instead of sleeping as Alina passes out next to him.

Monday morning brings with it a pounding headache for Alina. She prepares for the bright sunlight streaming through the window, but the room is dark when she opens her eyes. Mal isn’t beside her, but he left aspirin and a glass of water on the nightstand in addition to pulling out the blackout curtains. She falls in love with him a little bit more.

The day is a quiet one. The girls and Nikolai spend their time at the spa, Mal and David off doing saints know what. She gets the best massage of her life, and while her head still aches despite the pain pill, seeing Nikolai get his toenails painted bright red makes every sip she had last night worth it.

When they’re in the room again after dinner, tucking themselves into bed, Mal says, “You told me I smell good last night.”

Alina pauses. “I did?”

The night comes back to her. She totally told him he smelled good, and she had closed the space between them on the bed, curling up right next to him. She remembers all of it, suddenly and painfully.

“Oh, saints. Mal, I’m so sorry. I didn’t . . . I shouldn’t have—”

He cuts her off. “It’s okay, ‘Lina. You don’t have to apologize.”

“I don’t?”

Mal smiles an amused smile and leans over, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “No, you don’t. Not you. Never you.”

Alina is almost positive she can hear her heart pounding as Mal reaches for something tucked in the drawer of his nightstand.

“For you,” he says, handing her a long rectangular box. “Saw it today when I was out with David and I just— I thought of you.”

She can’t even process the image of Mal and David out shopping together, needing to open this damn box. With shaky fingers, she lifts the lid. Waiting for her inside is a dainty necklace with a gorgeous gold sun charm.

“Oh,” she says softly.

Mal blushes, and this time, Alina notices. “Do you like it?” he asks. “I just thought of you singing last night when I saw it. You’re so bright, Alina. All the time. Just like the sun.”

She has no idea what this confession means, or how she earned it from drunkenly telling him how good he smells — which his really quite good — but her heart has kicked into overdrive. She isn’t sure what, or how, but she knows something’s starting right now.

“I love it, Mal.” She turns so her back is facing him and hands over the necklace. “Will you help me put it on?”

He wraps the chain around her neck. The sun rests perfectly against her heart. She notices every little brush of his fingers against the back of her neck as Mal works the clasp.

When the necklace is secure, they both lay back down, noticeably closer this time. Not as close as last night, but close enough that their arms occasionally brush, close enough that she’ll end up kicking him during the night. Alina sleeps on her right side.

Their trip might be ending tomorrow, but something better was beginning tonight.

#malina #malina fanfic #fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #writing #my writing #THIS IS DAYS LATE BUT I KEPT STARTING THIS OVER BC I WASNT HAPPY WITH IT #also tried writing in present tense which i rarely write in so excuse if it's a mess lmao #short and sweet and not my best imo but i hope u still like it bb!!#cuddlingwithharry #if u spot the song reference (besides the obvious) u r superior

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spencers-dria · 4 years ago

Text

Lost at Sea

Single Dad Spencer x fem reader

Summary: This is kind of a little Christmas-adjacent fluff peice where Spencer is a single dad, completely clueless while Christmas shopping for his daughter. Reader sees him struggling and decides to help, completely unaware of where it will lead them. I imagined him sometime after the show ended, kinda with his somewhat longer curly hair and glasses. This story is completely fluff and I make no apologies.

Well, that was about the third loud huff from the man standing down the isle from me. This one was so loud it blew his hair around a bit, making it even messier. I try to focus on the task at hand, finding the perfect gift for my best friend’s little girl.

Diana was the closest thing I had to a daughter of my own. Despite Anne’s protesting, I took every opportunity to spoil her daughter rotten. The adorable and precocious little girl had me absolutely wrapped around her finger. I have to fight the urge to buy everything I thought would put a smile on her face, my favorite sight in the world.

But now, I was repeatedly distracted by the clearly frustrated man standing next to me, eyeing the girls toy section like it was an enigma. I decide to approach him, but he’s still to lost in his thoughts to notice.

I clear my throat while giving him a light tap on the shoulder.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh I didn’t realized you worked here.”

“I don’t.” I smile sweetly at him. “You just look like you’re trying to solve the worlds most challenging puzzle over here.”

He meets my eyes with a sheepish smile, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. I try my best to ignore just how attractive this man is. He’s definitely not available.

“I guess in a way I am. I’m trying to buy a Christmas gift for my daughter. It’s safe to say that I know absolutely nothing about girls. I want it to be absolutely perfect, and I just know whatever I get won’t be half of what she deserves.”

“Well I can help with that. How old is she and what does she like?”

He pushes his glasses up his nose, giving me a moment to ogle just how attractive his hands are.

“Her name is Alice, she’s 5. I know she loves Disney princesses. Ariel is her favorite I think... but even once I narrow it down to that, there is still just so much. Who knew shopping for little girls could be so overwhelming.”

I can’t help but giggle a bit at his helplessness. He starts to laugh along with me.

“I’m Spencer by the way.” I see him hesitate a moment before slowly extending a hand. I look at his extended hand with a slight feeling of guilt, knowing he’ll most likely judge me based on my response.

“Oh I’m sorry I hope you don’t think I’m rude but... I don’t really shake hands. It’s not personal it’s just all the germs. I don’t deal so well with them.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, but I can’t imagine why. Is he actually laughing at me? Seems a bit rude.

“You know I used to be the exact same way. I suppose having a kid has changed me more than I realize sometimes.”

I nod, quietly, knowing I can’t really relate.

“I’m sorry you’re probably really busy. Are you shopping for your daughter too?”

Unsure as to the reason why, I’m suddenly embarrassed to admit that I’m not actually a parent. Just a single loner in their mid-thirties, living vicariously through their best friend and their.

“Oh no, just a friend. I’m more than happy to help you out with Alice. If you want my best ideas though, I’ve got to be honest, a lot of it is online. I can show you the links real quick, I’d you’d like?”

“I feel like this would be easier if we just... Would you like to grab coffee? I know a great place just around the corner. You can show me all your ideas and hopefully we can pick out something for her together.”

Up until this point I didn’t want to make assumptions, but it’s becoming more clear that Spencer is most likely a single dad. I don’t want pry, but I can’t help but wonder what happened to her mom.

I try to hide my excitement at his offer.

“You had me at coffee. And I almost forgot, I’m Y/N!”

————————————————

Three hours and several cups of coffee later, I knew a small part of the life story belonging to Spencer Reid. He was an FBI agent, part of a team who hunts down serial killers. A profiler. Or former profiler? He used to work in the field, until he had to raise his daughter alone. He had been fallen hard and fast for someone who left him as soon as another opportunity, or person rather, had presented themselves. They left him a single dad, all alone with his 2 year old daughter, Alice.

Being a single parent, he knew he couldn’t continue a job that put him in harms way on a regular basis. He never had a problem putting his life on the line for others, but Alice had become his number one priority, without question. Switching to a desk job had allowed him to continue as a consult for the team while also teaching at the University.

As I looked over his attire, I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t quite give off professor vibes at first glance. His cozy maroon sweater and glasses, perhaps. But his curly mop of disheveled hair and goofy grin made him look more like a cuddly muppet character. The more I listen to him talk the more I notice his intelligence. I should have known, given his professions. It didn’t take long to realize he was well out of my league, but he was kind enough to give me the time of day for whatever reason.

I keep drowining in his eyes or getting pulled in by the movement of his hands as he speaks. Listening to his voice is like gently floating down like a river. I don’t even notice when he’s stopped talking.

“What about you?”

“Hmm?” I pull myself out of my daze, trying not to look as enchanted by him as I feel.

“Oh uhh, nothing to tell really.” I shrug, picking up my coffe, hoping he’ll change the subject while I sip on my caramel latte.

“I find that hard to believe. What do you do?”

“I just run a small cafe in town.”

I feel as though hearing about my life is about as interesting as watching water boil, but Spencer could have fooled me. He looks genuinely invested as I tell him about how I earned my bachelors and masters in business management, eventually opening up The Cottage. I didn’t have any experience in the food industry, but my friend Nicole had immediately been on board with the idea of coming on as my cook.

“It sounds wonderful. I’ll definitely have to stop by sometime.” He smiles at me before sipping on the last of his second cup of coffee.

“You’re welcome to bring Alice, only if you want to. And Nicole makes a killer risotto!”

“Of course! ...Oh! I knew we were forgetting something. Alice!”

“The entire reason you asked me here, just a minor detail.” I can’t help but snicker at our absent mindedness, how easy it was to be completely swept away in the tide that was Spencer Reid.

His face fades a bit, though I’m not sure why. He simply nods, folding his hands in his lap.

“Sorry if this is weird but umm... can I see a picture of her? It’s just, well, it might help me to get a better idea. You don’t have to, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Oh yeah!”He pulls out his wallet, unfolding a long strand of small photos, most of just his daughter, a few featuring him as well.

She was beautiful, brown eyed girl with soft, brown locks. She clearly had her fathers curly hair and soft, doe eyes. If it wasn’t obvious from the way he spoke about her, the pictures made it incredibly apparent that this girl was his whole world. Pure joy radiated from the photo of the two of them. I look up to to see the exact same look on his face, with a smile so big that his eyes crinkle.

That is the moment I knew he had me. I would follow this man anywhere, this adorable dad I had met on the toy isle only hours ago. The photos made it evident that she was just as crazy about him. It was almost too adorable for my heart to handle.

I take a deep breath before meeting his gaze, which is much closer now as we lean in over the table to look at the pictures.

“She’s beautiful.”

He looks down at the photos again with glassy eyes. “I know.”

He clears his throat and scoots back into his seat.

“So what did you have in mind?”

“Well, I have seen this online story that makes really pretty hand-made dresses that mimic the ones of each Disney Princess. Maybe a couple of her favorites? They also make knit blankets that look like mermaid tales. Or maybe a stuffed animal of one of her favorite characters? What little kid doesn’t like stuffed animals, right?”

Spencer nods along, absorbing all the suggestions I throw his way. After awhile, I help him settle on ordering a few we both like.

“I can’t wait to give these to her! She always loves Christmas morning. We open presents together and eat the cookies we made the night before while binging as many Christmas movies as possible.”

There was that smile again, the one he got when he talked about her. I wonder if she knows how lucky she is to have a dad that cares so much.

I can’t help but smile as well at the thought, which he quickly interrupted with “So what are your Christmas plans?”

I feel myself turning slightly red at the embarrassment of having to admit that I have none. Nothing much that is.

I shrug, hoping he won’t ask any more about it.

“Do you get to see your family?”

And there it was. The question I was desperately hoping to avoid. I know my inability to meet his gaze and consistent pulling at my fingers would be a dead give away of my uncertainty about speaking on the subject. I search for the best way to answer without seeming like I’m overcome with self pity. To be fair, I wasn’t. I didn’t mind spending the holidays alone. Not anymore. I had grown comfortable with the silence and comfort that comes from living alone.

The soft crackling of the fire, a fuzzy blanket, and a warm cup of hot chocolate had become my closest companions of each winter season. I spent many evenings curled up by the window, watching the snow dust the city as soft music flowed through my drafty, top floor apartment. Sometimes I’d dance and twirl around in my pajamas and socks, slipping and sliding on the wood floors. So yes, it was safe to say I truly enjoyed the time I spent getting to know myself.

“I uh, they’re not really around anymore. I was adopted by my parents when I was still a baby. They didn’t have any family but each other and then, well, me. I lost them to a car crash a few years back.”

I can tell he’s listening, but the one thing I always expect to see isn’t there. Pity. Instead I see kindness and understanding, and my heart welcomes it fully.

“Nicole is on vacation with her family for the holidays so it’s just me. I’m pretty used to it though, I make my own fun.” I give him smile to reinforce my point.

His eyes glaze over and I can tell I’ve lost him to a deep thought, as I see the gears turning in his head. He opens his mouth to speak before closing it again, and finally spouting out: “Come have dinner with us. On Christmas Eve.”

I had half expected a pity invite. A “why don’t you”. A “would you like to”. But Spencer hadn’t asked me. He had told me, in a way that left no room for arguing. I could tell he wasn’t going to budge on the matter. Whether it was the insistent but kind tone or the seriousness in his eyes, I don’t know. But I knew there was no use in fighting it. Not just the invitation, but the feelings quickly flooding my heart. Spencer Reid was like a fast approaching storm, but I didn’t want to outrun the rain. I wanted to dance in it, drenched in the downpour.

And that’s exactly what I did. As soon as I saw the look on his face when I said yes, it crashed over me like a wave, leaving me breathless and lost in the sea of my emotions.

#dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer x reader #original story #spencer reid x y/n #writing #Christmas #single dad #dad Spencer #Spencer and daughter #Spencer #Spencer Reid #spencer x y/n #Spencer x gn #Christmas shopping #fluff

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valdomarx · 4 years ago

Text

Entry, Descent and Landing

Stargate Atlantis, McKay/Sheppard, time loop, 6k, rated M

Also on AO3

“The gate’s not working,” Rodney huffs, entering the mess with a scowl on his face. He's clearly personally offended by this turn of events.

“Eh, I’m sure you’ll fix it.” John currently has more pressing issues to consider, like whether he can reasonably have fruit loops for lunch or whether he should eat some vegetables like an adult.

He picks up the fruit loops.

“I’m serious!” Rodney is all fidgety, talking and waving his hands instead of eating, and that’s never a good sign. “There’s something very wrong with it, and I have no idea why.”

John raises an eyebrow. It’s not often that McKay admits there’s something he doesn’t understand. And without the gate, they are vulnerable.

Regretfully, he puts the fruit loops back. “Alright. Why don’t you show me what the problem is?”

The gate will accept an address, and it spins and dials as normal. But when it should open a wormhole with a whoosh and a ripple of blue light, it simply stops dead. The lights fade out and it shuts itself off.

Huh.

“It’s been like this since we tried to dial New Athos for a check in.” A frown creases Rodney’s forehead. “Hand me that scanner, will you?”

They spend the day poking and prodding at the gate and the control consoles - or, more accurately, Rodney pokes and John swings his legs off the side of the console and provides unhelpful but, he thinks, amusing commentary - but there’s nothing to indicate a problem. No fried circuits, no missing components, none of the usual error warnings which appear when the gate runs into a problem. It just… doesn’t work.

They work through the afternoon, and by the time eight p.m. rolls around John is ready to call it a night and start again tomorrow. But before he can suggest they get some dinner, the gate whirs to life and begins to dial.

“Did you do that?” he asks Rodney, but he already knows the answer is no by the look of confusion on Rodney’s face.

The gate spins as if to dial but it doesn’t connect. It merely sits there, illuminated but inactive, and then -

John wakes up in his quarters.

That’s weird. He’s disoriented, and woozy, and he feels a headache creeping at the back of his skull.

He shakes it off. He probably just needs some food. He heads to the mess and is sitting down to eat when -

“The gate’s not working,” Rodney huffs.

John squints at him. “Again?”

“What do you mean, again?” Rodney waves him aside impatiently. “There’s something very wrong with it, and I have no idea why.”

A cold chill settles at the bottom of John’s stomach. “I know, Rodney. We had this conversation yesterday.”

“What are you talking about? Of course we didn’t. The gate only stopped working today.”

Rodney insists that he has no memory of the gate breaking, and neither does anyone else they talk to. It's like the previous day has simply disappeared.

The more he insists that he remembers it, the more Rodney turns from dismissive to concerned, until he marches him down to see Carson and okay, that's not the worst idea under the circumstances.

Carson checks him over, determines he's physically fine, and tells him it's probably just déjà vu. But that can't be right. It was so real.

Rodney keeps shooting him these worried looks, and that's definitely not helping. So he brushes it off and suggests they get back to fixing the gate. It is, after all, still broken.

They spend another few hours on that, opening up the consoles in the gate room and looking for any faulty hardware. Soon enough it's dinner time, and he's going to suggest heading to the mess when the gate spins up again, and oh shit -

He wakes up in his quarters. He frantically scrambles for his watch and sees that it reads two p.m.

This is definitely not déjà vu.

He heads straight to the gate room. The gate techs are antsy.

"Sheppard, you're here, good." Rodney enters, a tablet tucked under one arm. “We've got a problem. The gate’s not working."

They try to fix the gate again, with no more success than the last two attempts. John keeps checking his watch.

Maybe it's different now. Maybe he's changed enough to stop the day repeating.

At exactly right p.m., his sunny, perhaps delusional, optimism is shattered.

The gate starts dialing.

He wakes up in his quarters.

He sends Rodney off to consult with Zelenka and takes matters into his own hands.

He tries everything he can think of to dial the gate - dialing different addresses, dialing it at different times, even removing and replacing the control crystal in his famed “turn it off and turn it on again” approach to computer repair - but nothing works.

He tries taking a puddle jumper and flying out to the mainland, and into space, and as far around the planet as he can get. No matter how far he travels, at exactly eight p.m. he resets and wakes up back in his quarters.

Six hours is simply not enough time to solve whatever the hell is going on here

He tries explaining his situation to Elizabeth, to Teyla and Ronon, to Lorne, to Carson. Even when people are willing to entertain the notion of a time loop, no one knows how to address the problem, let alone suggest a solution. At best, they seem to be humoring him. At worst, they seem to think it’s his apparently inevitable slide into paranoia.

After trying everyone on the base he has even a passing relationship with, he gives up telling anyone. They can’t help him.

He overrides the city’s power usage limits and tries to dial up Earth. The gate still won’t dial, and he overloads the ZPM, and the entire city is plunged into darkness.

He wakes up in his quarters.

He used to love it here, his own little corner of the strange place that is his home. Now it feels like a prison.

He tries to make contact with the Athosians, or with the Manarians, or even with the Genii. But without the gate, his radio transmissions will take years to reach them. He sits by the radio anyway, listening to the crackling static and waiting for a reply he knows will never come.

Maybe he's trapped in a virtual reality, or his mind is being probed by aliens. It wouldn't be the first time.

Maybe none of this is real.

He stands on one of the city’s most distant piers, staring out into the ocean. It’s quiet here, now he’s turned off his radio and tweaked the lifesigns detector so it can’t track him. He watches the waves, the same today as they were yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. He considers his options.

He puts a gun to his temple and counts down from five.

He wakes up in his quarters.

He bangs on the lab door and tries one more time to convince Rodney to help him.

“A time loop is not impossible,” he grits out. “It happened at the SGC.” He knows Rodney has read the file.

“That’s because there was an Ancient artifact involved.” Rodney sounds haughty. “Have you touched any strange Ancient artifacts recently, Colonel?”

John breathes between clenched teeth and shakes his head.

“So. Time just spontaneously started resetting itself, did it?”

“How should I know? All I know is that I have woken up in my quarters a hundred times by now, and every day at eight p.m. the loop resets itself.”

“Why are you the only one this is happening to?”

“I don’t know!” he yells. “I have no idea what terrible sin I’m being punished for here! I’ve made my share of mistakes in my life, but nothing that deserves this.”

Rodney stops moving and looks at him -- really looks.

“Jesus, Sheppard.” Rodney’s brow creases. “You’re not okay, are you?”

John slumps. He can’t summon the energy to deny it. “Not even remotely.”

For some reason, this seems to be what pushes Rodney into taking him seriously. He nods, once, sharply. “What can I do to help?”

He looks at his watch. It’s ten minutes to eight.

“Tell me a secret,” he says.

Rodney gives him a disdainful look. “What is this, a tween girls’ slumber party?”

He grits his teeth. “I spent the entire day trying to convince you what’s happening to me is real. I don’t have time to do that every loop. I need you to tell me something no one else knows, so next time I can convince you I’m not crazy or playing around and we can fix this.”

He sees Rodney’s mind working. He can tell he knows John is right and he’s considering options of what to tell him: details about his childhood, his research, his time here on Atlantis, and discarding each one. For all his faults, Rodney does not dissemble. His life is an open book, and for this to work John needs to know something truly private.

“Alright,” Rodney says eventually. He tilts his chin up and straightens his shoulders like he’s bracing himself for incoming fire. “When I was fifteen, there was a boy at school a couple of years older than me. His name was Mikey Haynes.”

“Have you touched any strange Ancient artifacts recently, Colonel?” Rodney asks with the same look of superiority he always has. “Because that’s the only way-”

“McKay,” he interrupts.

“- and why would you be the only one affected, that doesn’t make sense-”

“Rodney!”

Rodney stops. Something in the tone of his voice has broken through.

“I know about Mikey Haynes,” he says.

Rodney goes very pale and John can feel the anxiety radiating off him in waves.

“How do you know that name?” his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because you told me, Rodney. In the last loop.”

For a few seconds Rodney stares at him, eyes wild and arms wrapped protectively around his chest. Eventually he gives one, sharp nod.

“Alright. You’re stuck in a time loop. What are we going to do about it?”

He has that conversation with Rodney every single loop. It is, without exception, the worst part of each one. Even feeling himself die wasn’t this awful.

He and Rodney have run every test they can think of. He’s been subjected to medical tests and genetic tests, they’ve scanned him for nanites and viruses and alien mind control, and they’ve turned up nothing. He is, by all accounts, completely healthy -- other than the fact he’s reliving the same six hours over and over and over and over.

“Maybe the problem isn’t with me,” he says. He chews over the idea and it seems plausible. “Maybe the problem is with the city.”

“What?”

“What if I’m not the one being looped through time? What if you are, and I’m the only one who’s aware of it?”

“So you’re sane and everyone else is crazy?”

“Yes.” He folds his arms over his chest. “Maybe my ATA gene gives me some protection against the effect, I don’t know.”

“Your magic genetics strike again.”

He ignores the griping. “If I’m right, the problem is even worse than I thought. The whole city, even the whole planet could be stuck in the loop. What’s happening to our allies while we’re stuck? How far have the Wraith advanced across this galaxy without us to keep them in check.”

Rodney swallows, the gravity of the situation finally hitting him.

“There must be a clue in the city sensors,” he says, pushing bits of drone aside to access the whiteboard in his lab. “If the reset is at the same time, there might be a preceding energy burst we can detect.”

“What good will that do?” John is too tired to think straight. “I know when the loop is going to reset.”

“Because if we know what type of energy it is, we can understand what’s causing it.”

John throws up his hands. Sure, why not. It's not like he's in a hurry or anything.

Rodney pokes through the sensor data, making little hmm noises which he finds unreasonably aggravating.

“See!” Rodney has his smuggest expression on, the one that simultaneously says I told you so and I know you find me charming. “Here, just before the gate failed to connect, there’s a small anomaly in the readings. It looks like… Interesting. It looks like ionizing radiation.”

“What does that mean?”

Rodney’s brow creases. “I’m not sure. There’s a spike of gamma and X-rays as the gate tries to connect. But I have no idea what the source is.”

John barely has time to let out a frustrated breath before the loop resets.

He hurries back to Rodney’s lab and points him to the sensor data.

“Interesting,” Rodney says again. “It looks like ionizing radiation.”

John exhales. “Yeah. You said that last time.”

He doesn’t need to eat, or sleep. His body resets with every loop. And yet, his mind has frayed. He hasn’t rested in so long, his thoughts are a jumbled mess.

He takes a loop off. He goes to the gym and spars with Ronon. His muscles are fresh but his strategy is a disaster; Ronon unsurprisingly wipes the floor with him. All the same, it feels good to stretch and move; to worry about avoiding a flying elbow instead of his sorry fate for a while.

Then he has dinner with Teyla. He doesn’t know how many loops it’s been since he ate, and even though he doesn’t need the sustenance he realizes he has been missing the sensory experience of it, and the camaraderie of a shared meal.

He tells Teyla about the time loop, casually, like it’s not a big deal, and she doesn’t seem convinced he’s telling the truth but she doesn’t dismiss the possibility out of hand either, and he loves her for that.

“If that were the case,” her head tilts to one side, thoughtful, “it would be a kind of opportunity, would it not?”

He squints. Nothing about this feels opportune.

“If time were to always reset itself, you could do anything you wish, without having to consider the consequences.” She shrugs. “Many have wished for such a chance.”

Huh. He never thought about it that way before.

Next loop, he steals a jumper and takes it for a joyride, zipping away from Atlantis and out into the solar system.

He pulls a reckless slingshot maneuver around the third planet out and is sent hurtling toward the star at the heart of the system, traveling so fast the jumper shakes and rattles even with the inertial dampeners. Elizabeth screams at him over the comms and he flips them off.

He approaches the sun at breakneck speed and the temperature in the cabin begins to rise. He swoops low into the sun’s corona, arcs of plasma leaping up around him, even more wild and ferocious than he expected. The sensors scream out warnings about hull temperature and radiation levels and he ignores them, absorbed in the way the jumper dives and banks.

He plunges closer, seeing the star’s surface bubble and erupt, then pulls up in a wild loop and swings down closer still: through the corona and into the chromosphere, the space around him transformed into wild hues of pink, shot through with filaments of white hot gas which snap and twist around him.

In the moment before the jumper is destroyed, as alarms blare and the air rushes out through cracks in the hull, his vision is filled with the surface of the sun. It is entrancing, covered in cells of red and orange and yellow, molten and changing and blindingly, blindingly bright.

He records a message for his father and uploads it to the queue to be sent back to Earth. “Dad,” he begins. “I want you to tell you something, something I’ve been meaning to say for a long time. From the very bottom of my heart: Go fuck yourself.”

He knows it’ll be heard by the gate techs, if not the entire expedition. That somehow makes it even more satisfying.

He finds Cadman.

“You’re an explosives expert, right?”

“Technically it’s high temperature and energetic materials technology,” she grins, “but close enough.”

“Awesome. Where do you keep the good stuff?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“You know. The really fun explosives they don’t let the field teams use.”

“Oh, that good stuff. Right this way.”

They spend an afternoon testing the structural integrity of the city’s farthest piers (not as good as you might think), seeing what happens when you strap C4 to a naquadah generator (an extremely large explosion), and enjoying the simple pleasures of tossing prototype grenades into the ocean (the water sprays rainbows across the sky as it is thrown miles into the air, and it falls on them like rain as they laugh).

Cadman barely needs any convincing.

He tells Lorne that he’s gay. Lorne doesn’t miss a beat.

“Yes, sir,” he says, entirely unperturbed. “I figured.”

He leaves a message for Nancy.

He tells her he’s sorry, that he knows he was a bad husband, that it wasn’t fair the way he treated her. He tells her that she deserved better, that he wishes her well, that he hopes she’s happy, and he means it.

He feels lighter the moment he's finished. He wonders why he never did this before the loop.

He’s struck by a genius idea, and he busts open a few locks and drags the ascension machine out of storage. Sure, it nearly killed Rodney, but maybe he’ll get lucky. Nothing to lose at this point, right?

The moment the light envelops him, he knows he’s made a terrible mistake.

Within minutes his skin is peeling away to reveal hard, blue scales beneath. The sunlight becomes unbearable. He turns the lights out and feels his way by sound instead.

He doesn’t remember much beyond that. There are only brief flashes in his mind: cold metal beneath his claws, horrified screams reverberating in a corridor, the effortlessness of scuttling up the side of a tower, the crunch of bones cracking between his mandibles.

He locks himself in his quarters for a few loops after that.

After a while his guilt is outweighed by his boredom. He picks up the guitar that has been primarily decorative thus far and learns to play Folsom Prison Blues.

Time keeps dragging on, indeed.

Eventually, as seems to be inevitable, he ends up coming back to Rodney.

"Sheppard." Rodney gives him a quick nod. "What can I do for you?"

There are a million answers to that question, and none of them are appropriate for work.

He considers the juxtaposition: Rodney's cool greeting with the way he's bouncing on the balls of his feet, all coiled excitement and nervousness. That's how Rodney often is around him, now he thinks about it.

Is it interest or intimidation? Fondness or annoyance? He's never been good at parsing emotions, and that's been a frequent source of frustration. Now it's particularly acute.

"You want some coffee?" Rodney offers, like an olive branch. "I'm sure we've got a clean mug around here somewhere."

John does not want coffee.

How many times has he thought about this? Too many to count. And how many more chances will he have?

What the hell, he thinks. Teyla was right. He'll never get a better opportunity than this.

He steps forward and puts a tentative hand around the back of Rodney's neck. He hears his breath catch. He rubs the soft hair there between his fingers, watches the blush rise on his cheeks. It's an enticing look.

Slowly, carefully, he leans in and kisses him, uncertain even though he knows the loop will reset, because this is bigger than some silly irresponsible behavior; this is him putting his heart in Rodney's fidgety hands and hoping against hope it won't be crushed.

For a moment Rodney freezes, and John is already formulating frantic apologies when Rodney mouths, "Oh god, finally," against his lips and wraps his arms around his shoulders, yanking him closer and kissing him hot and hard.

It's easy as anything to slip his hands under Rodney's thighs and to lift him onto the workbench, even while Rodney attempts to distract him by unbuttoning his shirt and biting a line along his collar bone.

He fucks Rodney over the bench in his lab, and next time on a balcony overlooking the city, and after that on Elizabeth’s desk. He learns every inch of his body; the soft plump of his thighs, the way he likes to be jerked off nice and slow, the sensitive patch of skin behind his ear.

For loops and loops, he does nothing else. Rodney never turns him down, not once. No matter where he is or what he’s doing, he’ll drop everything to be with him, and John has no idea what to make of that.

(Yes he does, but it's too big and too terrifying to look at directly, so he puts it aside.

It can wait. He has nothing but time.)

The first time he gets Rodney to fuck him, he bursts into fat, ugly tears afterwards and Rodney wraps a blanket around him and pets his hair. They stay like that for hours, Rodney holding him and for once not speaking, letting the waves of need and desperation and loneliness ebb and flow as they will, giving the simple comfort of his presence.

Sometimes he tells him about the loop, sometimes not. It doesn’t seem to make much difference to Rodney. Even when he explains nothing, just walks up to him and kisses him, Rodney kisses him back just as hungrily as ever.

And when they’re not fucking, they’re talking. He learns that Rodney has always wanted to learn to paint. He misses his cat (no, really. It’s not funny.) The one person on the base he is most afraid of is Elizabeth, because he secretly suspects she might be smarter than he is.

John tells him about why he doesn’t talk to his family, and about how out of place he always felt in the military. That he likes turkey sandwiches because they’re what his college roommate made for him when he first left home and had to learn to get by on not much money.

Each day, he learns more about Rodney and shares more about himself. And then the loop resets, and he has to walk into the lab and see Rodney regard him coolly and say, “Sheppard,” like that’s all they are to each other.

He misses him, and that sounds insane because he's spent practically every waking hour with the man for what must have been weeks. But he is moving forward and Rodney is staying still. Every time the loop resets, they drift further apart.

He stops sleeping with Rodney.

He gets back to work.

He pulls up the city sensor data and brings it to the lab.

“Here, look. You said before there was a radiation spike.”

Rodney drums his fingers against the tablet. “Yeah, there is. And it looks,” he squints, “sort of familiar.”

“What could cause that?”

“A million things. Radioactive materials. Black holes. Coronal mass ejections. Lightning, if there’s enough of it.”

“Wait, wait wait.” Something important scratches at his mind. “Coronal mass ejections, as in, from stars?”

“Yes. The magnetic fields inside a star shift as material moves in its interior, and when a prominence is formed and collapsed, the star releases a burst of plasma.”

He snaps his fingers. “That’s it! The sun in this solar system, we know it’s periodically unstable, right? And it’s even more active than usual right now.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

He thinks of the arcs of plasma he saw as he dove the jumper into the sun’s corona and decides against trying to explain that. “It’s not important. But we know the stargate has sent Earth teams through time when the wormhole passed too close to a coronal mass ejection, right? What if our stargate had the same problem?”

“That might send whoever was traveling through the gate through time, but it wouldn’t make time loop.” A light flickers in Rodney’s eyes. “Oh! Oh! Unless that’s why the gate failed. It tried to send an outgoing wormhole at the exact moment that the sun’s activity peaked. When the wormhole hit the coronal mass ejection, it bounced back to its origin, carrying its energy with it. And that would mean…” He taps frantically at his tablet. “Right! That spike of radiation is the effect of the outgoing and incoming wormholes colliding, forming a resonance wave. All that energy is forming ripples which must be throwing us through spacetime.”

“Great! So can you fix it?”

Rodney blinks. “I’m not even sure I can model what’s happening, let alone fix it. The mathematical equations alone will be weeks of work.”

“We don’t have weeks, Rodney. We have -” he checks his watch, “- just over half an hour before the loop resets and we lose everything.”

Despair starts crawling up his spine, but he shouldn’t have underestimated the sheer stubbornness of Rodney McKay.

“Well then.” Rodney sits him down and shoves a notebook and pen into his hands. “Looks like you’re going to have to learn some math and help me to remember.”

This is his routine now: Wake up in his quarters, run to the lab, talk Rodney through the problem as fast as he can, get lectured on astrophysics and mathematical modelling until he feels like his head is going to explode, repeat.

Repeat, repeat, repeat.

He gets the basics down quickly but there are still pages and pages of math for them to solve, and nowhere close to enough time to figure it out in one loop. So he learns, and remembers, and does his best to save himself.

Rodney explains it well when he’s not being a jerk, and John starts to understand why he likes this work.

He hasn’t done this much math since college, and it’s not as awful as he remembers. There’s a kind of beauty to it, actually, a balance of all the relevant variables quantified and described, their relationships mapped into symbols and equations, the logically clarity of a necessarily true fact.

“See, this variable here, this represents the duration of the outgoing wormhole.” Rodney taps the whiteboard. John stares at the way his hands dance over the numbers. “And this one here, this is the distance between Lantea and its sun...”

Each loop, he learns a little more. Eventually, he understands the equations Rodney has been scribbling for the past god knows how many loops.

Now they just need to actually figure out how to solve them.

“That equation is wrong.”

“What? No it isn’t. I worked that out myself.” Rodney is glaring at him like he insulted his mother.

“I’m telling you, Rodney. Look.” John uses the cuff of his shirt to wipe out a corner of the equations scribbled on the whiteboard. “This is assuming we’re still operating in base 10, but we know the gate operating system is partially in base 16.” He adds in the corrected figures as he goes. “So we need to convert it to polynomial here and here before we can compare the output to the data from our solar radiation readings, then we can figure out the coronal mass ejection’s effects on both the gate and our computers simultaneously and allow for the difference.”

Rodney is squinting at the whiteboard. “That’s… Huh. That might actually be right.” He steps closer, running his fingers beneath the figures John has changed. Then he wheels and rounds on John.

“You,” he says, pointing a finger at John’s chest. “You are a genius.”

And then he’s grabbing John’s shirt and hauling him close and kissing him, wild and messy and with great enthusiasm.

And John had told himself he wasn’t going to do this any more but this is different, Rodney had kissed him this time, and with the way Rodney’s hands are scrabbling at every piece of skin he can reach he doesn’t think he could stop himself anyway.

Afterwards, once they’ve wasted far too much of this loop to get any productive work done, John tells Rodney about all the times that they’ve done this before, and that this is the first time Rodney has been the one to instigate it.

Rodney shrugs. “What can I say? A man who knows his math really gets me going.”

John hides a smile. “You only want me for my brain, huh?”

“Yes,” Rodney says, like that’s obvious. He breaks into a grin and runs a hand through John’s hair. “And the hair, of course. That’s very important.”

“Mmhmm.” John stretches lazily across the sofa in the corner of the lab. “And the rest of me?”

Rodney gives him a sly look. “I guess that’s alright too.”

And then Rodney is giggling as John wrestles him to the sofa as well, and he’s all flying elbows and poking fingers until John gets him pinned beneath him, both of them sweaty and out of breath from laughter.

Oh, thinks John. So this is what happiness feels like. He’d almost forgotten.

The loop is about to end, though this one feels different.

They're lying squashed together on the too-small sofa, inelegantly draped around each other, when Rodney takes his hand. “You have to tell me,” he says. “We’re about to reset, and once we've fixed this and I've forgotten again, you have to tell me how you feel.”

His gut churns. It’s so much simpler to be together when he doesn’t have to think about the consequences.

“Promise me,” Rodney says. “It’s not fair that I should finally get what I’ve wanted for so long, and not be able to remember it.”

He thinks about how he feels each time Rodney is reset: the loss, the ache of it. He tries to imagine what it would be like to have those experiences erased entirely.

“Okay.” He squeezes Rodney’s hand. “I promise.”

“That’s it!” Rodney beams at the whiteboard, covered from top to bottom in dense equations. “I can’t believe we got that done so fast.”

John lets out a sound that might be considered a laugh.

“Ah.” Rodney looks at him sideways. “You’ve been working on this for a while, huh?”

“You could say that, yeah.”

“Well, good news. Now we’ve got the wormhole modeled, we can feed this data into the dialing device and reset the gate manually.”

“And that will stop the loop?”

“I sure as hell hope so, because it’s the only idea I’ve got.”

“Terrific.”

John makes a conscious effort to stop his leg from bouncing anxiously as Rodney loads up their data into the dialing device.

He checks his watch. It’s three minutes to eight.

This is going to work. Right? This has to work. He’s put everything he has into this fix and he honestly doesn’t know if he can cope with looping one single time more.

(He’s thought that so many times before. And yet, here he is, still, willing or not.)

“We need to get the timing just right,” Rodney informs the gate techs. He’s taken over the gate room and thankfully the entire base has learned not to get in McKay’s way when he has that steely look in his eye. “We need to engage the program at exactly the moment the incoming wormhole is set to arrive.”

Two minutes to eight. Adrenaline surges, and he wants to run or to fight, but there’s nothing he can do except watch the furrow in Rodney’s brow and the agitated tapping of his fingers against the Ancient keypad.

“Alright, Chuck, ready on my command.”

Rodney’s got this, he tells himself. They’ve got this.

One minute to eight.

“Now!” Chuck sits up straighter, focused on the instruments in front of him. Rodney taps at the keypad, attention narrowed down to the rapidly scrolling code on his screen.

The lights flicker, spluttering overhead and casting the gate room in an eerie disjointed light. The gate starts to rotate, the screeching noise louder than usual, the illuminated symbols seeming to glow more brightly.

There is a moment of absolute stillness, and then -

The whoosh of the outgoing wormhole connecting is the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. He can get out, he can be free, he can live. He doesn't have to be alone any more.

Blood rushes to his head in great waves and makes him dizzy, like this might all be an illusion, like it might disappear at any moment.

He checks his watch. It's two minutes past eight.

He lets out a hysterical peal of laughter, staggers away from the gate controls, and passes out.

He wakes up not in his quarters. The antiseptic smell of the infirmary is the sweetest breath of fresh air.

Elizabeth insists he needs medical supervision, but there's no chance of keeping a hoard of curious scientists away from an oddity like the man who looped through time. So he's in an infirmary bed being gently grilled about the experience by Zelenka, who has apparently been elected their representative.

Elizabeth does her best to project an air of calm as she asks, "Is there any way to know how long we were looping for?"

Zelenka pushes his glasses up on the bridge of nose. "It is hard to say for certain, but extrapolating the current season based on the length of the days, we must have lost around six months."

"Six months?" Elizabeth turns to him, aghast. "John, I can't even imagine."

She means well, but he can't handle pity right now. He plays it off casually, with a wink and a smile. "Trust me, you don't want to." He swings his legs off the side of the bed and calls out to Carson. "Doc, I'm good to leave, right? Pretty sure I'm healthy as a horse, and I've given the research team plenty of material to work with."

Carson looks him over, takes in the weary lines of his shoulders, and eventually nods. He always was perceptive. "Aye, alright. But stop back in tomorrow for a checkup."

"Sure thing. Now if you'll all excuse me, I'm looking forward to a well deserved night off."

He is looking forward to a night off, but the very last place he wants to wake up tomorrow is in his quarters. He'd sooner sleep on one of the piers, or in the locker room, or on a hive ship. Anywhere but there.

But there's another option. Or at least, there might be. So he finds himself fidgeting outside Rodney's door.

The door opens while he's pacing back and forth in the corridor.

"Sheppard?' Rodney blinks at him. "I was just on my way to find you. Earlier you seemed… so I thought… well, this must have been hard for you. What are you doing in the hallway?"

He doesn't have an answer for that. Instead he considers.

Rodney's hair is mussed, the way it gets when he's been deep in thought and running his hands through it. His fingertips are pinching together, a hum of low-grade anxiety that surrounds him whenever he has to confront emotional situations. He's wearing an old grey hoodie, one of his favorites because it's soft, even though he thinks it makes him look dumpy (it doesn't. Or maybe it does, but it doesn't matter, because it's comfortable and warm and it smells like Rodney. John knows because he's stolen it tens of times. It's one of his favorites as well.)

John knows him, knows every part of him, and he's so close he could reach out and touch him, but he's a million miles away as well.

"... John? Do you want to come in?" Rodney's face pinches into a concerned frown. "We don't have to talk, if you'd rather not."

He could walk away. Turn on his heel and leave, never mention any of this, let the whole incident fade into obscurity. But he's so close to having what he wants: something new, something familiar, something beautiful.

He takes a breath. Here is his chance. Now or never.

"Actually, I think we should talk." He lets himself smile at the precious memory, one perfect moment crystallized like a diamond from months of crushing pressure. "I made a promise."

#stargate atlantis #mcshep #my writing

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