#emily's refusal makes me feel crazy!!! it's so good and absolutely makes me think about doyle (and karl arnold to a lesser extent) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scuttling · 3 years ago

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Long Time Coming

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,664 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, Reader has a few one night stands, Semi-public sex, Unprotected sex, Blow jobs/Face fucking, Hairpulling, Fingering, Praise and degradation, Dirty talk, Accidental reveal of feelings, TW blood/cut Summary: You have been in lust (and love) with Aaron for a while, but his new look sends you off the deep end, and it's enough to make you do some pretty crazy things. *Inspired by @ssamorganhotchner and these three pics. Link to A03 or read below! You are fresh off yet another unsuccessful first date when Aaron wears the new suit. You, Emily, JJ, and Penelope are standing by the coffee maker, complaining about the pitfalls of online dating and how people are never they way they seem when you actually meet in person; you have the carafe in your hand, filling your mug, and when he walks in, face in a case file, his pants so tight you can make out his hips and thighs as clearly as if he were naked… You kind of lose your shit. And your grip.

The carafe shatters when it hits the tile floor, spraying shards of glass and hot coffee everywhere; Emily gasps, Penelope jumps back to avoid the splatter, JJ runs for a broom, and you just stand there, staring at Aaron—at his tight slacks, at his belt, at his shirt, tucked neatly inside, then at his dangling tie, and finally, his worried face.

“Are you alright?” he asks, because you have literally not moved a muscle since he arrived; your boots are covered in coffee—you are thankful you dressed casually today and aren’t wearing heels, or you’d be in a lot of pain—and your heart is racing, but otherwise you feel frozen, unable to move or look away.

You’ve wanted Aaron for a long time, and everyone knows it but him. It’s part of the reason you’re smothering yourself with online hookups and blind dates and one night stands: because he is off limits, and you’re desperately horny for him, and you need to have him fucked out of your mind one way or another.

The new suit further complicates things.

“Fine,” you say after a few more seconds, and JJ comes back with the broom and dustpan, so you bend down to help her clean up your mess. It wasn’t your brightest idea, because you are now at eye level with the tight crotch of his pants, and all you can think of is working the zipper open, pulling him carefully past the fly, sucking him off until those big hands slip into your hair and tug roughly when he comes.

God. You’re going to have to go on another bad date. Or ten.

“New suit?” Penelope asks conversationally, as if you aren’t having a sexual crisis about it three feet away. “Looks good, boss.” Aaron runs his hand down his body self-consciously, but all you see are thick fingers and stomach and hnnngg…

JJ pinches the back of your arm hard, makes a face that screams get it together!!, and you take a deep breath.

“I took some of my old ones in for alterations and the salesman convinced me they were severely outdated. Do you like this style better?”

For some reason, it feels like he’s looking right at you, and you nod, dreamy-eyed, sweep your tongue over your lips.

“Better,” you rasp, and Emily and Penelope agree, probably to take the emphasis off of your slack mouth and dopey one-word answers. You try to help JJ clean up, picking up the larger pieces of glass and dropping them into the dustpan despite her protests—because you are very unfocused, shouldn’t be messing with sharp objects—and when you cut your finger on a piece, she just sighs. Such a mom.

You wince, and Aaron frowns, comes toward you, putting you not only at dick height, but a manageable dick distance, if you were so inclined; really, it’s more if he were so inclined, because you are actually fully prepared to swallow his load right here in front of your friends—all he’d have to do would be snap his fingers and point to his crotch, and the FBI would be suing you for mental distress and using the money to pay for therapy for Emily, Penelope, and JJ.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” he says, snapping you out of your very elaborate fantasy (typically your fantasies don’t involve court costs, but this is Aaron, so anything is possible.) He wraps his hand around your injured finger and pulls you up to standing with the other, and you just follow along as he leads you over to the sink, turns on the tap to let the water run over your cut. The way you’re looking up at him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen has to be painfully obvious, but he just reaches over for the first aid kit, takes out a bandage, and wraps it carefully around the tip of your finger. You sigh.

It may have started out as lust, but you’re pretty sure you’re also in love.

You have got to find a way to get him to notice you as more than just an agent, a teammate, a friend, and so: Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ begins. You fill the girls in on your master plan, and they fill in Derek and Spencer just so there are more people to laugh at you when you crash and burn, probably. But you’ve got a plan, will be pulling out all the stops, so you might not fail horribly after all. Hopefully.

God, you absolutely cannot fail. You can’t go out with another software engineer with the personality of a peanut or another investment banker who thinks buying you an appetizer means you owe him a blow job in the front seat of his Tesla. You will go fucking insane.

Today’s plan is T for tits, because yours are pretty awesome and almost no one who is attracted to women can resist them. You wear your usual white button down top, but you leave the top two buttons undone, and you add a red, lacy bra for a little additional temptation.

“Here are those consults you asked for,” you say after knocking lightly on the doorframe; Aaron waves you inside. You set them down on his desk, then glance over the open folder in front of him, make a curious noise. “What are you working on up here?”

You walk around his desk, so you’re standing next to him, and lean forward to look over the case file with one hand on the back of his chair and the other pressed against the desk. If he would look over, he would see right down your top, your breasts high and smushed together thanks to the lacy push up… but he looks straight down at the file, taps his pen against it.

“Murders in Detroit. I don’t think we’ll go—they look like mob hits to me, so I’m going to refer the case to Organized Crime.” You hum, turn the file toward you and lean in a little closer, letting your hair spill over your shoulder, the neck of your blouse fall open. Boobs and perfume are usually a one-two punch that is capable of bringing any man to his knees, and while he does turn to look at you, it feels entirely too respectful for your liking. You sigh softly, give up for today, and turn the file back.

“Well you know best, boss. Any time I don’t have to go to Detroit is alright by me.” You flash him a smile, and he reciprocates, and you head back downstairs for a cup of coffee and maybe a stale shame pastry.

The team looks up at you when you approach, and you shake your head.

“No luck,” you mutter, and Derek laughs, crosses his arms over his chest.

“Maybe you’re not very good at flirting. What did you do?” You roll your eyes—your flirting is not the problem, it’s Aaron’s morals and manners or whatever—and walk over to Spencer’s desk, demonstrate with him what you did to Aaron; you put your hand on the back of his chair, toss your hair over your shoulder, lean in, and Spencer swallows hard, licks his lips, and looks abruptly down at his hands. That reaction, you would have gladly taken.

Derek clears his throat, and so does Emily. Hmm.

“I’m good at flirting,” you say, straightening up; Spencer is blushing, and it’s super cute, so you pat him lightly on the head. “Maybe he’s an ass man. I’ll wear a skirt tomorrow and we’ll see if that gets the job done.”

“Good idea,” Derek says, and when you walk past him, he gives you a once over that makes you feel pretty damn good. “In the meantime, why don’t you come and demonstrate on me?”

There’s no denying he is one of the finest men you’ve ever seen in your life, and earlier on in your career you might have taken him up on it—it would have to be better than Marty McTesla, that’s a given—but you know he’s mostly teasing, even if there is a thin layer of actual desire beneath it all. You just fluff your hair and take your seat and mentally flip through your closet to try to come up with an outfit Aaron can’t refuse. You decide on a pencil skirt, because that��s got to be every boss's fantasy, right? You have one you never wear to the office because it’s a little sexy, tight on your hips and ass, with a zipper up the back that you can open a little and use to your advantage. When you walk into the bullpen that morning, JJ whistles, and you grin, do a little twirl.

“Thank you, thank you. This has to work, right?” You turn to face Emily, then turn away from Emily, butt right in her face. “Emily? This will work, right?”

“That’s... definitely going to work,” she murmurs, tapping the cap of her pen against her teeth, and you have to admit you have a good feeling about this one. For as great as breasts are, your ass is your best asset, and if the open top and red bra didn’t work, this has to be your ticket to some sweet, dirty loving, it just has to.

You all head up for the morning meeting, filing into the briefing room, and you give Aaron a soft greeting and a smile just like every day, and then offer to help him pass out whatever stack of papers he’s holding in his hands—fire drills and emergency protocol, or something boring like that. He accepts the help, and you take the fliers, but instead of walking around and handing them to each member of the team like he would, you bend over the table, reach across, and drop the pages in front of everyone.

JJ is the furthest away, and you practically have to climb onto the table to reach her; you grin and wink when she takes the papers out of your hand, and she shakes her head like you’re too much, but when you stand back up to hand Aaron the extras, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit interested.

He thanks you for your help, and you take your seat and listen to him go on about emergency exits and fire extinguishers and seriously start to contemplate moving to Europe to start a new life, or something else equally dramatic.

Because you don’t give up easily, you orchestrate one more attempt to get him to show some interest in you. You know he usually goes downstairs to the cafeteria for lunch, and that the elevator is a jam-packed nightmare because the main stairwell is currently under construction (which is probably why you needed to go over safety protocol, now that you think about it; shutting down the stairwell seems very unsafe.) You usually pack your lunch, but you can go buy an overpriced salad for the sake of your sex drive, so you wait for the elevator when he does, making small talk about your mornings until it dings and arrives on your floor.

He tries to let you in first, gentleman that he is, but that won’t work with your plan, so you insist, earning eye rolls from the other passengers on the elevator. You give Amy from Forensic Accounting a dirty look and then step in after him, lean back against him because there’s really no fucking room to even take a breath.

He’s taller than you, but with heels on your ass still fits pretty nicely against his thighs; a little too nicely, you think, as you get wet just from standing near him in the elevator, the heat of his body through your skirt. You really are a mess.

There are two more floors to go before the cafeteria, and no one gets off, but more people manage to cram into the elevator, which means you press more tightly against him to make room. Someone bumps into you roughly, which makes you unsteady on your feet; Aaron puts his hands low on your hips to keep you from wobbling, and your eyes literally roll back in your head, but he just leans in to mutter, “sorry” into your ear. You say nothing, because you’d probably moan if you opened your mouth, but you shake your head so he knows it’s not a problem.

When everyone gets off downstairs, you hurry to the restroom and don’t look back, turn on the faucet and splash some cold water against your overheated neck and chest. So much for that plan. All you managed to do was work yourself up into a fury.

While you’re in line to pay for your overpriced salad, you open up your dating app and secure yourself drinks with a hot lawyer for tonight. Seduction is clearly not working with Aaron, he’s clearly not interested, and you have to find a way to move on before you have a spontaneous workplace orgasm and get fired from the job you love—all of his tight new suits have been dark so far, but if he shows up in gray, you’re not going to have the will to survive anymore. You have to plan for the worst.

The lawyer is nice enough, but he’s too short, too thin; it’s hard to imagine Aaron’s body weight on top of you when he’s fucking you, but you’re nothing if not resourceful, so you move your hands to his head of thick, dark hair and focus on that—that, and his hot breath against your throat when he comes a little too soon and mutters “sorry” into your ear.

“It’s okay,” you pant, reaching between you to rub your clit. You close your eyes, tip your head back, clench around him; you imagine it’s Aaron inside you instead, and bury your face in his shoulder when you come.

He’s willing to stay, but you explain why it’s better if he leaves, and then you fall back into bed, fumble for your vibrator, and get off again so you’re not too distracted by reality to really enjoy your fantasy.

It’s a little twisted, but it is what it is. You’re standing in the breakroom a few days later, swiping through the dating app and bullshitting with Derek and Penelope, when this guy pops up on your screen. He’s not your usual type, younger and blonder than you prefer these days, a pilot, but something about his profile makes you pause; when it hits you, you blow out a breath and look up at your friends.

“So you guys know Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ is officially dead in the water,” you begin, and they nod, “and now I’m focusing my energy on trying to get over him. I went on a date with a guy that kind of looked like him, and that didn’t really help, but what if…” You turn your screen to face them; Derek nods like it might be crazy enough to work, but Penelope grimaces.

“No, I don’t think that’s going to work. It might actually be crossing a line,” she says with a frown, and you look to Derek for his input.

“It’s more of a coincidence than anything, right? It’s not like he’s unattractive and this is the only reason you’re going out with him. He’s a good looking guy,” he admits, and you’re really grateful he’s willing to help you rationalize this probably terrible idea into a potentially decent idea.

You send the pilot a message, and he wants to meet up; he suggests a bar near the both of you, and you know it’s risky, but you tell him you happen to make a great gin and tonic and that you have everything you need at home, if he’d like to meet you there instead.

He does, and you don’t even make him that drink, just take off his clothes, get him into your bed.

“That’s right, babe—wanna hear you lose it for me. Say my name, gorgeous,” he groans, fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you from behind, and you close your eyes, fist your hands in the sheets, and give him what he wants.

“Oh, fuck, Aaron. Fuck me harder.” His thrusts are already rough and punishing, but this is the best you’ve felt in a really long time, so you’re eager, desperate for more. “Yeah, Aaron, just like that.”

“Tell me my big cock feels so good in your pussy.” He slaps your ass, and you moan involuntarily, press back against him, panting.

“Your big cock feels so good, Aaron, so good in my pussy. Fuck me, Aaron, destroy me.” He grunts, tenses, and moves his hands to your shoulders, slamming your body tight against his as he comes. “Yes, don’t stop, Aaron, don’t stop,” you plead, hips working together, and when he smacks your ass again you come gasping his name, collapsing against the bed with a breathless sigh.

You feel a lot dirtier than you expected you would, even though it was kind of awesome, and ultimately Penelope was right; it was fun while it lasted, but it didn’t do a damn thing to help you forget about the only Aaron you actually want in your bed. Monday morning, Aaron comes into the office wearing a tight navy suit with a striped white shirt and a navy tie, and you follow him with your eyes from the glass double doors all the way up to his office, mouth open a little. Your eyes get heavy and your breathing picks up, which is the dumbest biological reaction to a man’s ass you’ve ever had—but god, it’s a perfect ass—and JJ has to actually lightly slap your cheek to get you to snap the fuck out of it.

“Are you horny right now?” she asks, a little grossed out. “I can’t handle you.”

“I know you guys all call him a tightass, but I mean, if the pants fit… and god, do they fit.” You pick up a case file and fan yourself with it. “He’s so fucking hot. What am I supposed to do? Getting railed by fake Aaron didn’t do shit; I think I might actually have to transfer.”

“You’re not transferring. You just have to get over it.”

“Are you kidding? She’s like a cat in heat when he’s around,” Derek says with a smirk. “I think I’m getting horny just because she’s horny.”

“Okay, so why can’t I have that effect on him?” you ask with your arms open. “Do you think it’s the pheromones? Maybe they’re incompatible. Smell me—does it turn you on?” you ask Spencer, presenting your neck, and he looks like a deer in the headlights, then leans in to sniff you.

“Uh… you smell nice?” he says with a shrug and a half smile. “I think it’s just your perfume, though.”

“Put your face near her boobs,” Derek says, and Spencer starts to lean in again. “I think the pheromones are stronger there.” He pauses about halfway to your chest.

“Actually, they’re stronger near the genitals, but I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

“What’s going on down there?” You freeze and then turn to look up at Aaron’s office, where he leans against the doorframe; Spencer stands up comically fast, and you take a step back, clearing your throat. Aaron’s scowling—it’s really sexy and it’s making your heart beat in your stupid, traitor pussy—and then he sighs visibly. “We have a case, come on.”

The case is only a half hour away, so you drive, which is horrible, because you are with Aaron and Derek, and Derek lets you sit in the front just to watch you squirm.

It gets bad before you even pull out of the parking garage, because Aaron puts his hand on the back of your headrest to look behind him and reverse the SUV, and you look over at his body—his stomach, his lap, his thighs—and then quickly face forward when he puts the car into drive. You’re flushed, breathing heavily, and when he looks you over quizzically, asks if you’re alright, you just clear your throat and nod.

“Allergies,” Derek supplies from the back, and you mentally thank him for the save, but you kind of also want to smack him for putting you in this position in the first place.

You’re practically turned on the entire ride, even as you go over the details of the case, because his legs are spread and your eyes keep moving to his crotch; at one point, you think you notice his already unfairly tight pants getting a little tighter, but it’s just a trick of light.

By the time you arrive at the precinct, you are more than ready for fresh air, to put some distance between yourself and Aaron. You’re out of the car almost as soon as he turns off the engine, which probably looks weird as hell, but for your sanity you can’t give it too much thought.

The head detective and a junior detective give you a run down on the case while the other half of your team meets with officers at the crime scene. The head detective, a tall, handsome man in his forties, is looking at you like you’re a juicy steak and he hasn’t eaten in months; Derek notices, turns to you with a raised eyebrow and mouths ‘pheromones,’ Aaron is clearly unhappy about the detective’s lack of professionalism, and you couldn’t really care less about the attention. You just want to do your job and go home and touch yourself to thoughts of your boss… as one does.

The local police already have a board made up, so the three of you travel to speak with some witnesses, head back to the precinct, work the tip lines. Aaron seems to be looking at you more than usual, and when you get up to stretch your legs, he’s right behind you, following you out into the hall.

“Are you sure you're alright today?” he asks with a serious expression, hands on his hips. Your mouth waters. “You’ve been acting a little strange.”

“Stranger than normal?” You try to smile, to lighten the mood, but as oblivious as he’s been about everything else, he’s always been able to tell when you try to hide your emotions with humor.

“The last couple weeks? Yes.” He moves a little closer, and you try your best not to let it affect you—or at least not to let it show when it does. “You know by now that you can come to me anytime, for anything.” He doesn’t present it as a question, but it’s clear on his face that he’s looking for an answer.

“I know. I’m going through something… stupid,” you say with a shrug. “Something I should be able to handle, but it’s harder than I imagined.” He frowns, flicks his eyes over your face.

“Let me help you.”

“You can’t; trust me, you can’t,” you say, pleading with your voice, begging him to drop it. “I’ll get through it.” You shut your eyes briefly, exhale, and he reaches down to take one of your hands in his.

“Are you in trouble?” This is the most intimately he’s ever touched you, and it’s not just your body that sings; you know you’re in love with him, have been for a while, but focusing on the horny feelings is easier. It makes it feel like you have less to lose.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just need some time. Thank you.” You squeeze his hand, and then Derek pokes his head into the hall behind him.

“We got a tip about the unsub barricading a house downtown; the detective is mobilizing SWAT,” he says; when he glances down at your hands, you pull yours softly out of Aaron’s grasp.

“What do you want us to do, boss?” you ask, effectively ending your conversation, and he tells you to get suited up with comms and Kevlar so the three of you can head to the new scene. Aaron is, unsurprisingly, a complete badass, storming the house along with SWAT, you at his side; it’s his way of reminding you that he trusts you, that it can and should go both ways—he is so perfectly predictable, reassuring with gestures over words even in a situation like this one. It does nothing to help you stop wanting him.

He’s a little rough with the unsub (and that doesn’t help either,) looks ruffled and kind of pissed when you climb in the SUV to head back to the precinct. Spencer, JJ, and Emily meet you there, and you take the opportunity to vent about how indescribably good Aaron has looked all day—Spencer bows out of the conversation early, but JJ and Emily are kind enough to listen to your insane, horny ramblings.

“He’s just so hot—he always has been, but the new suits? They’re so tight, and his shirts show off his tummy, and his pants show off his thighs… You guys will never understand the things I want to do to him.”

“Okay, he’s handsome enough, but you’re nasty about it—I can’t handle you,” JJ says, not for the first time. You groan in response.

“How can you say that? Have you fucking seen him? I’m not supposed to think nasty thoughts when he walks around looking like that?”

You feel yourself getting a little out of hand, and Emily and JJ look like they’re trying to shut you up, but you can’t stop yourself. It’s like the floodgates have opened.

“He’s never going to know what I want to do to him… what I want him to do to me. I tried so hard, and he didn’t even look at me. All I wanted to do was get on my knees for him and grab his ass so he could fuck my throat as hard as fucking possible—is that so much to ask for?” You pause, but neither of them say anything, just look scandalized. “I guess I’m going to have to name my vibrator Hotch now, since that’s clearly the closest I’ll ever get to him giving me an orgasm.”

“Do you really mean that?”

You jump a fucking foot, spin around, almost knocking Emily and JJ over in the process; Aaron is in front of you, his brow furrowed, arms crossed over his vest (he hasn’t taken that thing off yet? You threw yours on the table like the minute you got back), and your mouth opens and your eyes close at the same time.

Oh fucking fuck.

“We’re gonna… go,” Emily says awkwardly, and you open your eyes abruptly when Aaron speaks again.

“No, we’re going to go; come with me,” he tells you, and he turns and heads down the hall; you look back at Emily and JJ, swallow hard, and follow him, your heart beating fast.

He steps into a small room with a copy machine, table, shelves of paper and envelopes and other supplies, and closes the door behind you, engages the lock. You are torn between being very worried he’s going to fire you and super turned on, because this is definitely a fantasy you’ve had before.

“Aaron,” you begin, running a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry. I think it was the adrenaline; it makes me run my mouth and I can’t stop it, you know that.” He’s facing away from you, his hands on his hips again, and you can see the way his body moves when he sighs.

“Did you mean it, though?” When he turns to look at you, he doesn’t look angry, he looks… nervous. “Do you want me?” His reaction is unexpected—not great, but not necessarily bad—and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah. So fucking bad. And I’m sorry—” That’s as far into your apology as you get before his mouth is on yours, his hands on your face, lips pressing against you for a rough, eager kiss. Your hands move to his waist, pulling him closer by the vest, and he lifts you up onto the table, tugs down the v-neck of your t-shirt, mouths at your throat.

“You think I didn’t look at you?” he says when he pulls away for a breath, tipping your chin down so you’ll look into his eyes. “You think I didn’t see that lacy red bra, your perfect ass bent over in the tight skirt? You think I didn’t feel it pressed against me in the elevator, that I didn’t want to push that skirt up and sink inside you and take you there in front of everyone?”

You moan, chest heaving, twist your fingers in his hair and pull him in for another kiss, dripping and trembling at his admission.

“I would have let you,” you murmur against his lips, and there’s no doubt in your mind that you would have, if that’s what he’d wanted. “I would let you do anything: not just let you, but I’d want it, beg for it. I meant what I said—I’d get on my knees for you, anytime, anywhere, do whatever you want me to do. I want to be yours.”

He catches your mouth in another rough kiss, then puts his hands on your waist, guides you off the table, and flips open his belt, the fly of his pants.

“Oh god. What are you doing?” you ask, and he slides down his zipper, pulls you with him until his back hits the door.

“I’m giving you what you asked for,” he rasps, staring into your eyes, his gaze smoldering. It’s so fucking hot your pussy clenches.

You lick your lips, drop to your knees on the tile floor so hard it hurts, tug his pants open and pull out his thick, hard, veiny cock.

Your dreams and fantasies did not do it justice.

“Fuck. Thank you,” you mumble, looking up at him, and he wraps his hands in your hair, pulls tightly. You moan just from that and the heft of him in your hand. “Thank you.”

“Shh.” He scrapes his fingers over your scalp, hums as you start stroking him, licking the head. “Don’t thank me—I should be thanking you, beautiful, perfect girl. In what world do I get this?” There are lots of things you want to say to that, but you’ve waited long enough, will have to say them later.

You lick your lips, collect lots of saliva, and take him into your mouth, get your hands on his ass and dig your nails in. Aaron groans, tightens his fingers in your hair, and when you look up at him it feels like a fever dream, like it’s not real but a delicious figment of your imagination.

For a minute or two, you stroke him with a tight, wet mouth, and it’s got you aching between your legs, but he’s supposed to be fucking your throat, technically, if he’s giving you what you asked for. You pull off, tell him that, and he tugs your head back roughly, guides you back onto his cock and starts thrusting into your mouth, earning vibrating moans around it.

“God, you’re so perfect. How long have you been thinking about this? How long have you touched yourself to the thought of me fucking your pretty face?” He picks up the pace, pushes deeper when he sees you can handle it, and you squeeze his ass, feel your eyelids flutter as he uses your mouth, pulls your hair. “Are you a whore for me?” he grinds out, and the moan that rips from your throat is inhuman, embarrassing, and absolutely accurate. “Yes you are, baby, yes you are. My pretty whore, on your knees, mouth stretched wide and filled with cock.”

You’ve never been so turned on from a blow job, but this is Aaron, hot and dirty and forceful, everything you imagined and more. You squeeze him tighter, encourage rougher treatment, and he presses his hands against the back for your head, slams his dick in so deep it aches; you don’t gag, but it’s a near thing, and when he pulls you off you gasp for breath and whimper at the loss at the same time.

“Enough of that, baby. You were perfect, so good for me, almost choking on my cock, but I bet your pussy is wet and aching. Do you want me inside it?”

“Holy—yes, fuck, please. Please,” you breathe, and he helps you to your feet and then pushes you against the door, gets your pants down. His rough treatment has you whining, gripping the hair on the back of his head, and you kick off your boots and socks so you can step out of your pants completely. “Keep all this on,” you tell him, pants and shirt and tie and Kevlar vest and all, and he nods, kisses you deeply, presses two fingers inside you.

“Fuck,” he groans when you receive him easily, soft and wet and open, and he uses his free hand to sweep down your top, slipping the buttons loose so he can get a better view of your tits and black lace bra that’s holding them. “So beautiful, and finally mine,” he mutters against your throat, and you whine, let your head fall back against the door, and give in to the pleasure of his thick fingers moving inside you.

“Finally mine,” you murmur, tugging his hair, slamming down against his hand, and when you come it’s like a miracle; you cry out, clamp down, and wrap your free hand around his bicep and squeeze until you’re lightheaded, dazed, desperate for another.

You kiss, deep and passionate and filthy, and Aaron slides his fingers into your mouth, pumps them a few times, then kisses you again.

“Good girl. Are you ready for my cock now?” You pant, gasp, and nod your head, and he pushes your shirt off your shoulders, lifts your legs so you’ll wrap them around his waist, and pushes inside you. You both moan, kiss, moan again, and then you wrap your arms around his broad back, hook your fingers in his vest, and hold on while he pounds your body roughly against the door.

“Oh, Aaron, fuck. Yeah. Want you to slam your body against mine; want to feel it, want to feel all of you.” He looks into your eyes, breathing hard, fucks up into you, hands on your ass, his hips and torso pinning you in place.

“Sweet, pretty, slutty girl,” he pants, spreading you open and shoving himself inside your pussy. “You tried tempting me, and oh, did it work. I might not have shown it…” He ducks in to kiss the base of your throat and you cling tighter, rock against his hips. “But it worked. You dressed like a whore just for me, just so I’d notice you; do you I know went home and stroked my cock and came with your name on my lips?”

“Holy shit. That’s so hot.” You move a hand to his hair again, can’t not thread your fingers there now that it’s allowed. “Could have fucked me like this then. Could have come in my pussy, not your hand.”

“We’ll make up for lost time,” he promises, and he thrusts up with his whole body, so you can feel it pressed against yours—shoulders, chest, stomach, all the very best parts of him. “I’m not too much for you? Can you take it?”

“Perfect for me,” you gasp, holding tightly to his vest at his shoulder and his shirt at his hip, bouncing into his thrusts. “So perfect, want you. I can take it. I can take it, Aaron.” Your mouths meet for a messy, hot kiss, lots of tongue, and you groan. “Give it to me, give it all to me.”

He bends his knees a little more, fucks you so rough and hard your mouth falls open and all you can do is whimper, clutch him, gracelessly kiss back when he presses his lips to yours.

He comes first, holds tightly to your hip and pumps inside you, fills you and then some, so it drips out while he’s still inside. It feels sinful, even after everything, and with a few rough drags of his palm over your lace covered nipple, you tighten and grip him and gasp out his name.

You both slow, and then he turns you, leans back against the door for a little relief after holding you up for so long. He nuzzles into your hair, and you bury your face in his neck, and you kiss soft and sweet until you’re feeling stable enough to hop out of his arms and put your clothes back on. He rights his as well, and when you’re both put together he wraps you up in a hug, kisses you, holds you with soft hands on your cheeks.

“I really have waited so long for this.” He brushes his lips over yours, and you sigh. “You never indicated… I was trying to be professional. Then out of nowhere you were leaning over my desk and bending over the table, and I was a little blown away.” You nod, can see that, pull him down for a kiss.

“It’s the goddamn suits,” you say with a half smile, and he gives you a curious look. “Your new, better fitting suits? They fit you so fucking well it’s almost illegal; I’m thinking of pursuing charges against your tailor for reckless endangerment on behalf of my libido, and the coffee carafe, and my poor, worn out vibrator.” He chuckles, hugs you closer, squeezes you so tightly against his body you almost pass out from all the good things you feel.

“Maybe we can strike a deal,” he murmurs, pushing your hair back behind your ear, and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll think of something you can do to make it worth my while.” After a little more hugging and kissing, the two of you figure it’s time to emerge from the supply closet; you don’t see your team anywhere, which surprises you, but when you get to your phone and pull up your texts, it all makes sense.

Derek: Congrats on the sex. The four of us headed home because no one wants to ride with the two of you and your pheromones.

Emily: Yay, you did it!! Drinks on me next time we go out!

JJ: You guys are loud; don’t make a habit of that.

Penelope: I hear congrats are in order! And by hear, I don’t mean hear. There’s NOT an audio clip or anything, so don’t worry about that!!

Spencer: Emily took an audio clip. Is it normal for girls to enjoy being called a whore? You don’t have to answer that.

You take a very deep breath, give him the gist of the messages—you’re on your own, they heard at least part of it, there is some potentially damning evidence that needs to be destroyed—and you leave the precinct to head home in a better mood than you’ve been in in a very long time.

Aaron takes you out for a late dinner, and he spends the night at your place, falls asleep warm and solid and very naked in the middle of your bed.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #prompt

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mercy-burning · 4 years ago

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Payback

Summary: After Reader surprises Spencer at a BAU holiday party, he can’t stop thinking about her. Category: Fluff Word Count: 4.2k NOTE: This is my first little fic, I’ve had this idea for a while now and I’ve always wanted to write it, so please let me know what you think! I hope you like it! And if there’s anything I should include in the before/summaries of my stuff in the future, please let me know! I’d love to write more but I’m not sure what everyone wants to see. Thank you!

***

He could still taste peppermint. It's been 8 days and still, every time his lips press together, Spencer swears he can taste her peppermint lip gloss coating them. It's all he's been able to think about as of late.

And no sooner than he could taste her lips, he could see her face, the way her eyes had glimmered after just a glass of champagne, amused and proud of her actions. He tried not to think about how dumbfounded he must have looked, completely frozen and practically unable to function properly, let alone at all. His mind betrayed him, though only for a second before he focused on the way she'd lovingly patted his cheek and whispered, "There you go," before pressing her lips together and turning away.

The whole ordeal had only lasted no longer than five seconds, but to Spencer it had felt like a lifetime. Time had slowed to a stop and refused to move forward the very moment she grabbed his face.

Truth be told, he should have seen it coming. For years since Y/N had joined the BAU, his friends had teased him relentlessly about her. More specifically, Morgan had caught him staring at her from across the jet once upon a time, her first case with the team, and when she'd looked up and smiled at Spencer, causing him to give a small wave and immediately avert his gaze, Morgan laughed from beside him and stated, "You couldn't be more obvious if you tried, Pretty Boy."

Emily and Rossi, who were seated across from them, didn't even have to turn around to know what was happening, and the shared a knowing smile before Hotch had returned from the bathroom and started debriefing.

Spencer had tried to play it cool at first, blowing off his friends' teasing remarks and sometimes crude gestures, but deep down he knew they were all right. And if they were able to see just how badly he liked Y/N, then it was probably no secret that she'd been able to tell as well. The thought made him nervous, but in the three years since he and Y/N had come to be better friends, he'd gotten more comfortable and a little (but not by much) less blush-prone when she paid him a smile or occasionally brushed her hand against his.

Nonetheless, the teasing from the rest of the team had slowed significantly, though it hadn't entirely stopped. Every time they all got together for a dinner at Rossi's or a party for the holidays, Y/N got dressed up, and every time without fail Spencer couldn't help but admire her beauty. Of course he'd found her beautiful all the time, but there was something about the way she held herself during these events, almost like she knew she was the most stunning person in the room, that drove him crazy, and even intimidated him a little. (She's way out of my league, he'd thought to himself once.)

And every single time, either Morgan or Garcia, or pretty much anyone else, but those two specifically, would try to get him to talk to her, to ask her on a date, or to just flirt with her. But, as usual, Spencer brushed it off, and each night he would go the entire time without taking his friends' advice, much to their chagrin.

Sometimes he wished he had, that he was brave enough to say something to her, anything beyond the usual, "you look nice" before quickly changing the subject. And a few times he almost came close, but some small part of his conscience told him that she wouldn't reciprocate. That he was too weird and that she was too good for him. And then he would chastise himself for even thinking that he would have a shot, and he'd have to live with the fact that he would just be teased by his friends forever about this perfect woman that he would never have the courage to come clean to.

But all the same, he was just naïve enough to believe that he could get away that one night without any trouble.

It was the day before Christmas Eve, and Rossi had generously decided to host a small get-together before everyone would be with their families for the holidays. As usual his place was beautiful, but even more so with all the twinkling lights and garland.

The team was shuffling around the kitchen, talking amongst themselves and drinking their drinks of choice, when Y/N appeared next to Spencer, a glass of champagne in hand.

And just like every time before, he felt his heart tug at his chest as he looked at her, so close to him he could smell her perfume and feel her warmth. She wore an emerald green dress that stopped below her knees, the sleeves long and the neckline plunging down to the top of her stomach in a deep V-shape. Four thin, glittery strips of silver attached the two sides of the V together, getting smaller as they went down. Her hair was worn up, a high pony tail that tumbled in curls down the back of her head, a few strands curled and framing the sides of her face. Her eyelids glittered red and her lips were sheer and shimmering.

She practically sparkled as she spoke to him, a beacon of elegance and beauty, and it took everything inside of Spencer to resist grabbing her face and kissing her in front of all their friends.

She finished her glass of champagne as he was telling her about his holiday plans, setting the glass on the table in front of her before a squeal—no doubt from Garcia—cut him off, mostly out of concern.

"What is it?" Y/N asked for him.

Morgan and Emily came strolling up to see what the commotion was about before they laughed and fist-bumped.

"What?" Spencer repeated, thoroughly confused.

Rossi came up to join, nodding as he raised his drink. "Ah, the magic of mistletoe."

"Look up," Garcia added, pointing to the ceiling above where Spencer and Y/N were standing.

Sure enough, mistletoe was hanging above them, and though he knew what that meant, his first instinct was to talk.

"You know, the Druids came to view mistletoe as a symbol of liveliness due to the fact that it could blossom even during wintertime. In hopes of restoring fertility they would administer it to humans, and even animals."

He refused to look at Y/N. He couldn't. He knew that the second he did, he'd give himself away, if he hadn't already before. And just as he was about to spit out more facts about mistletoe, he felt time slow down.

The words caught in his throat, dissipated, and replaced themselves with the smallest of whimpers. He hoped to God she wouldn’t hear it, for fear of giving himself away even further.

Instead he froze, completely shell-shocked when Y/N reached over, grabbed his face in her hands, and turned it to meet hers, taking no time at all to press her lips against his in a burning kiss. At least, that's how it felt for him.

He wasn't sure how she was feeling, but in that moment he could only think about how his entire being burned at her touch. And though she only kissed him for no longer than three seconds, keeping the entire thing short and sweet, the taste of her peppermint flavored lip gloss lingering on his lips, the way she looked at him, and the way she patted his cheek and the way she whispered, "There you go," before turning away and taking her empty glass with her... All of it was enough to make Spencer feel like he'd just experienced Heaven itself.

She was the actual human embodiment of Heaven, he was sure of it.

So by the time he'd recovered from his haze and found it in himself to breathe again, Spencer went back to pretending he wasn't phased, because after all he was in a room with all his friends who knew better, and the more he could keep pretending, the less he would be left to think about how Y/N had completely shaken him to his core.

But now it's the night before New Year's Eve, and he'd been thinking for days now how to deal with this. Because every time she'd looked at him since then, every time she'd say his name or playfully wink at him, it drove him mad. He closed his eyes and there she was, in all her shimmering, heavenly glory, taking up every thought, every ounce of being he had to offer. She owned him and she didn't even know it.

Or maybe she did.

There was one day, December 28th to be precise, when he swore she was messing with him, gauging his reaction. First of all, she'd worn a skirt to work, which she barely ever did, not to mention it was cold and snowy, and hardly the right weather to comfortably wear one, and a tight one at that. And Y/N seemed to be particularly and unusually clumsy that day, because she'd conveniently dropped her pen in front of Spencer's desk, or accidentally spilled water on her white shirt, exposing some of her bra. And every single time, She'd looked up to see him staring at her, as he'd never been able to resist doing.

The way she talked to him was different, too, her voice almost lullaby-like. And when she'd ask a question about something she clearly knew, she bit her lip immediately afterwards, her head tilted down and her eyes fluttered up, almost like she was embarrassed to ask for help.

By the end of the day Spencer was exhausted, not to mention still overwhelmed and completely burned by her presence. And it didn't help that everyone else around him knew what was happening. The teasing then was just as relentless as it had been the first week Y/N started working with them, made worse by the fact that she'd kissed him and left him absolutely ruined.

He had to do something, or he was sure he wouldn't survive.

***

Even though the team had just been together for Christmas, once again they all found themselves gathered around a fancy setting for New Year's.

This time Y/N decided she wanted to host, since none of the team have ever been to her house. In the three years since she'd worked with them, she figured it would be a good way to ring in the new year.

Her house wasn't as big or extravagant as Rossi's—no one's was, really—but she'd made do with what elegance she had to offer.

Even though everyone was bringing a small dish to eat, Y/N wanted to go all out. So, she decided to bake two pecan pies and a chocolate chip banana bread, all that culinary training throughout her first two years of college not entirely going to waste. She'd even made complimentary cupcakes for the team, each one flavored and decorated uniquely to each new friend she'd made from her time at the BAU, their names piped on every one with icing.

For Garcia, she made a vegan lemon blueberry cupcake frosted with a homemade vegan whipped cream, complete with a little glitter and 'penny' piped in pink.

For Derek, a peanut butter mocha cupcake with chocolate frosting and decorated with gold glitter and peanut butter chips, his name piped in white.

For Emily, a red velvet with vanilla buttercream and a ring of red and white marbled frosting around it, her name piped in red.

For JJ, a chocolate cupcake filled with raspberry coulis and topped with dark chocolate buttercream, silver pearls making a circle around the outside and her name piped in pink.

Hotch's cupcake was a chocolate with coconut frosting and 'Hotch' piped in vibrant blue, along with some swirled patterns around the edges.

Rossi's was her favorite to make, simply because it was so out of the box. It was a chocolate cupcake filled and topped with maple whipped cream, sprinkled with chopped up, caramelized bacon. She hoped he'd like it, but just in case it was too unconventional, she whipped up extra cupcakes of each. That way everyone could also try different ones if they wanted.

And that left Spencer.

The whole week leading up to the party, Y/N was concocting her recipes, trying to figure out which flavors everyone would like the best. She knew that Spencer would gladly take anything she'd given him, but after the Christmas party, she wanted to give him something to remember.

Truth be told, she wasn't even going to kiss him that night. She was more than happy to let him go on about mistletoe in an attempt to avoid what everyone else so desperately wanted them to do, but right before he finished his first fact, Emily glanced at Y/N and nodded her head, mouthing "do it".

And in a split second decision, she decided screw it.

And then she kissed him.

Though Y/N wasn't sure how he would feel before she did it, she could tell almost immediately when she did that he'd wanted something like that to happen for a while, because he practically whined against her mouth. She felt it more than heard it, it was so small, but there was no mistaking that it had happened, only confirmed by the fact that he slightly leaned into her once it was happening.

And then she pulled away, and she could have swore he tried to chase after her, not wanting it to end. But shock won over, because he opened his eyes and they were as wide as she'd ever seen them, his lips parted and shimmering faintly from where her lip gloss had transferred.

Y/N didn't want him to know that she could hardly breathe, seeing him like that, feeling him embrace her action, so she'd quickly brushed it off, patted his cheek and whispered, "There you go".

In hindsight, she wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say. All the things she could have told him in the moment, and "There you go" is what came out? Really?

So she picked up her empty glass as the team laughed and clapped, putting distance between everyone to get more champagne and compose the rapid beating of her heart.

She went home that night and thought about Spencer. Naturally. She tried not to think about the small part of her brain that said he was only shocked because it was unexpected and not because he wanted her. Instead, she tried to recall every interaction they'd had together, wondering how she could have missed the obvious.

There'd been countless times where Y/N had caught him staring at her, only for him to look away and pretend like he hadn't been... And to think, every time she just thought maybe she'd had something stuck in her teeth or a stain on her shirt. She just had to think something was wrong, when in fact, everything was perfectly fine.

So she decided that after everyone went back to work, she'd test it out.

One tight skirt and a few 'accidental' mishaps later, Y/N was sure.

And so, as she laid out the cupcakes on the table, Y/N put Spencer's in the middle. It was a vanilla bean cupcake, filled with peppermint whipped cream and crushed candy canes. The peppermint whipped cream was piped on the top as well, and she topped it off with a silver shine and his last name piped in red cursive lettering. On the outside you couldn't tell it was peppermint, but he'd sure taste it. And Y/N couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he did.

Everyone started to arrive shortly after Y/N finished getting dressed. She decided on a sleeveless black velvet dress with a high neckline that fit snugly around her throat. It was tight and ended just above the knee, accentuating just about everything. She put her hair up in the same high ponytail as the Christmas party, though rather than curled, it was straight. Her makeup was simple, a little silver eyeshadow, black eyeliner, and red lipstick.

She'd just put in the second hoop earring when her doorbell rang. Y/N slipped on her black heels by the front door and opened it to find almost everyone there.

"Y/N!" Garcia's exuberance was the first thing she heard, and then she hugged her.

"Hey, guys, welcome!" she exclaimed with a smile as everyone filed in through the door, hugging her as they went on by.

"Morgan and Reid are on their way," Rossi said, handing her a bottle of wine. Blackberry merlot, her favorite.

"Man, it smells great in here," Emily noted, setting her jacket on the hook behind the door.

"Yeah, I might have went a little overboard and made everyone their own cupcakes," Y/N said. "And banana bread... and two pecan pies."

"Cupcakes?" Garcia inquired, almost devilishly.

Everyone laughed, and Y/N led the way to the dining room, where she had everything set up. In front was everyone's cupcakes lined up in a row, behind them the banana bread and the two pies on either side of it.

"Y/N, these look incredible!" JJ complimented. Everyone else agreed in unison, and it warmed Y/N's heart.

"Thanks guys. I made a few of each just in case you weren't happy with your cupcake. But you're free to have them now if you want." So she handed everyone their assigned cupcakes, explaining each of their contents and seeing their faces light up, save for Reid and Morgan, who still had yet to arrive.

And as if on cue, the doorbell rang again, and Y/N's heart almost jumped out of her chest.

"I'll go bring these out to them," she said, grabbing the remaining cupcakes and leaving her friends to enjoy.

Derek was at the door first, smiling as charmingly as ever. "Hey, Miss Thing."

"Hey, yourself," she laughed, opening the door and stepping aside for him to walk through. She handed him his cupcake after he took his coat off, setting it beside everyone else's. "I made everyone complimentary cupcakes. This one's for you. Peanut butter chocolate mocha."

Morgan's eyebrows raised and he smiled, taking the cupcake. "You didn't."

Y/N laughed again, nodding as he took a bite. "You can head inside through there, everyone else is enjoying their own."

He pulled her in for a side hug and muttered a 'thank you' through a mouth full of cupcake, making her laugh harder, before he disappeared into the kitchen.

When Y/N turned around, Spencer was taking off his coat, a smile plastered on his face. "You made cupcakes?"

She tried not to fall apart when she looked at him, his eyes as kind as ever, that smile so intoxicatingly sweet and so incredibly him. She gave him a small once-over, admiring the look he'd gone for, which consisted of black dress pants, a long-sleeved navy button down with the first few buttons opened and a tie hanging loose and open around his neck, revealing some of his chest. He'd opted to leave his hair rather messy, which was more than okay with her. If she hadn't known any better she'd say he'd just woken up, but the style choices seemed deliberate. Regardless, Y/N knew that whatever he'd shown up in would have taken her breath away.

She nodded, trying not to take too long to look him over. She held out her hands, the cupcake sitting in between them both. "Yeah, I did. Here's yours."

"You're not gonna tell me what kind it is?"

She laughed. "You'll just have to eat it and see."

"Well, thank you. It's pretty... You're pretty. Y-you look nice."

Y/N saw him take a breath right before blinking and looking down at the cupcake, peeling the wrapper away, and she almost forgot to say, "Thank you."

But she did.

And then he took a bite of the cupcake.

***

As soon as it passed his lips, Spencer knew. He'd been tasting peppermint all week, and of course that had just been him remembering the taste of her lip gloss before, but now the taste was unmistakably there.

It was the frosting, only faintly peppermint, but just enough to be highlighted against the sweet vanilla of the cupcake. The two flavors in harmony were just as much Heaven as she was.

He would have moved forward and kissed her right then had ne not already had a plan.

So, instead he nodded with a smile, swallowing the bite he'd taken and stepping forward to be closer to her. "It's amazing. Thank you."

He looked down at her, and she looked back up at him, her eyes just as beautiful as they had been the night of the Christmas party.

"You're welcome," she replied softly, eyes drifting to his lips.

Spencer smiled at her before passing her and walking to the kitchen, leaving her behind.

Little did she know, he was practically buzzing from head to toe.

***

The night passed quickly, everyone laughing, having drinks, and happily eating.

It amused Y/N that the vanilla peppermint cupcakes ended up being everyone's favorite by the end of the night. The team had no idea the reasoning behind the specific flavor, and she almost had to wonder what they'd say if they did know.

Though, she wasn't sure it mattered. Because Spencer had pretty much ignored her all night. Of course he'd talked to her if they were brought up in conversation together, but he rarely even looked at her, and in the event that he did, it felt purely platonic and unlike every other time before.

Was he ignoring her on purpose? Did he secretly hate the stunt she pulled with the cupcake and decide to punish her for it? Or maybe, she'd merely imagined the chemistry in the first place. It had all been a figment of her imagination, something her mind made up to make up for the fact that she sucked at dating and hadn't had affection from a man in years.

That last one seemed bit of a stretch, but at this point Y/N didn't rule anything out.

Eventually she shifted her focus to having fun with her friends, this found family she'd been happily apart of for three years. It was her first time hosting a get-together at her house, and she was proud to share it with them. In an effort to prove just how much it meant, Y/N made a toast right before midnight. The TV was muted, and she'd unmute it when the ball was ready to drop.

Looking around at all her friends, Y/N smiled gratefully. "I want to start this off by saying how sorry I am that it took me this long to invite you all over to my house. But hopefully I made up for it with all the sweets." A small group of laughter filled the room for a moment before she continued. "And I know New Year's is supposed to be celebrated in hopes of being a better person and bettering yourself in the future, but... I know all of you, so... That's already been taken care of. I love you guys."

"Here, here!" Rossi announced, raising his drink. Everyone else followed suit, and after taking a sip, Y/N unmuted the TV. There was about a minute left until the ball would drop, and it would be a new year.

After filling up her drink one more time, Y/N stood in the back of the living room to take in all of her friends, chatting amongst themselves as they waited for the new year to ring in.

But someone was missing.

Just as she'd thought it, Spencer showed up beside her, and she turned to smile at him. "Hey."

"That was a nice speech," he said, setting his drink down on the table beside him.

You followed suit and nodded. "Thanks. It was kind of cheesy, but..."

"No, I... I think it was sweet."

Y/N wasn't sure what else to say, so she nodded, and looked back at the TV. There was about 20 seconds left, and everyone started counting.

She started counting with them, Spencer still at her side.

"19, 18, 17, 16..."

Before she even knew what was happening, Spencer's hand brushed out against hers. She thought it was an accident, but he'd been moving closer as the seconds rolled by.

But that couldn't be. Because she'd imagined everything before, so why wouldn't she imagine this, too?

"12, 11, 10, 9, 8..."

His heart was beating so fast in his chest, he could have sworn everyone around would be able to hear it. Time was running out, and he knew that he couldn't chicken out this time. Morgan had even spent all afternoon and the entire car ride here helping him figure out how to do it properly. And if he backed out then the teasing would be relentless.

"4, 3, 2, 1..."

The second Y/N finished chanting the final number, she felt a pair of hands grab her face.

And then Spencer's mouth was on hers, even better than it'd been before. Only this time, she kept him close to her when he tried to pull away. But he was happy to oblige, and they stayed like that, lips pressed together and hands caressing each others' faces. Maybe their friends were watching them, and maybe they weren't. It didn't matter. Nothing else mattered but that kiss.

Y/N pulled away first, though she kept her forehead pressed against his. She opened her eyes and saw him looking at her, everything falling into place.

"What was that for?" she asked softly, though she didn't actually care.

"Payback," was his answer, plain and simple.

She rolled her eyes lovingly and then pressed another small, sweet kiss to his lips before they broke apart completely, and then she laughed.

"What?" Spencer asked.

Y/N ran her tongue over her bottom lip before patting his cheek. "You taste like peppermint."

#spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #fluff

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briefinquiries · 4 years ago

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Luke Alvez x Reader: Thanksgiving Dinner

Description: You invite Luke home for Thanksgiving dinner.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: none

A/N: sorry i suck at updating! but here’s a fluffy thanksgiving fic. i hate this holiday, but love luke so enjoy!!! (obviously this fic is pre Covid times, so keep ur distance and stay at home y’all)

“It’s just dinner, Luke! And my family really wants to meet you. Please?” You beg again, sitting up again to look into Luke’s eyes pleadingly. The two of you were cuddled up in Luke’s apartment watching a rerun of a show you’d already seen. You had one of his throw blankets wrapped around you, but still shivered. Luke always kept his apartment freezing. Something to do with the fact that he was literally a human furnace.

“Thanksgiving dinner is supposed to be a family thing,” Luke sighs. “I don’t want to impose. Why can’t we just do dinner any other day?” He asks. You frown at him, and furrow your eyebrows, your signature sign of annoyance.

You had only been dating Luke for about six months now, but Luke can read you like an open book. He knows all of your little expressions and mannerisms.

“Because,” you groaned, like that’s the only explanation you need to give. Luke raises his eyebrows, so you continue.

“Because that’s the only time my whole family will be there and I want you to meet all of them,” you huffed, falling back against Luke’s headboard, a few inches between the two of you now. “I don’t understand why you won’t just come.”

“Baby,” Luke chuckles, reaching over and pulling you back into his side, like you had been sitting just a moment ago.

When your frown doesn’t go away, Luke sighs. “Okay.”

“Okay?” you ask.

“Okay, I’ll do Thanksgiving.”

You smile smugly, and lean back into Luke’s side. “Thank you,” you murmured. Luke gives your side a slight squeeze.

“You're lucky I like you so much,” Luke chuckles.

...

Luke straightens his shirt in the mirror one more time, making sure his hair is intact and his shirt wasn’t too wrinkly. He really, really wants your family to like him, and if he doesn’t look perfect or say exactly the right thing, he knows he’ll blow it.

He’s gone with a dark blue button down, one of your favorites. He picked out his best pair of pants and even trimmed his beard so that it looked clean and presentable.

There’s a knock on the door as soon as he’s finished tucking his shirt into his pants, and he lets out a long breath before he goes to answer it. He checks his teeth in the mirror beside the coat closet before he opens the door, finding you waiting for him in the hallway.

You both just kind of stare at each other for a long moment.

You have on a white sweater and dark pants. Your hair sits perfectly on top of your head in a big bun.

Luke breaks the silence first, reaching out to pull you into his chest. He kisses you softly. “You look great,” he murmurs against your lips.

“So do you,” you whispered. “We’re gonna be late if we don’t get going now. Are you ready?” you asked, reaching for Luke’s hand when he nods. Luke allows you to lead him down the hall and to the elevator, and then out to his car.

The two of you pull up to your parents house an hour later, you’re quick to undo your seatbelt and climb out of the car. There are already several other cars in the driveway, and Luke tries to guess who might already be here as you walk him up to the front door.

There’s a wreath already hung on the door as you ring the doorbell. Luke squeezes your hand tight, making you turn around and look up at him in amusement.

“Are you nervous?” you ask, smirking.

Luke shrugs, “A little bit,” he says.

“They’re going to love you,” you assure him and then the door swings open.

You whirl around, grinning at the little girl in the doorway. Luke recognizes her as one of your cousins from the countless pictures he’s been shown, but he isn’t sure which one she is.

“Hey bug,” you say excitedly, and the little girl jumps excitedly. She runs the few steps it takes to close the distance and jumps into your arms, hugging you tightly around your neck. Luke’s heart melts as he watches you twirl around the porch with her a bit, before putting her down and letting her run back inside.

“That was Kate,” you tell him before taking his hand in yours. Luke nods, already storing the information in his long term memory.

You lead Luke inside, just in time to hear Kate announce to the whole house that you and your “cute boyfriend” were there. Luke smiles at that and you look up at him with the widest crinkly-eyed grin, leading him around the corner to the kitchen.

Luke was not prepared for the crowd of people gathered as soon as they turned the corner.

There’s a male that looks just like you sitting on a stool at the bar, with a double version of himself sitting next to him. Luke immediately recognizes them as your twin brothers. He knew their names, but couldn't for the life of him, tell who was who. Kate has found two other young kids, around the same age as her, and all three of them are clawing at the dress of a woman who Luke presumes is their mother.

There’s an older woman stirring something in a pot on the stove, and another, younger woman sipping from a wine glass and holding a baby. In the attached living room three men sit on the couch, a football game on the flatscreen TV.

Luke is a bit overwhelmed by the chaos of it all, but when you squeeze his hand a little bit tighter, he feels like he can breathe again. You quietly start pointing out who is who before actually bringing him around the room.

He learns that your twin brothers were named Caleb and Elliot. He also learns that Caleb has his hair parted down the middle of his head, whereas Elliot’s was just combed back.

He learns that the woman stirring the pot on the stove was your mother, and the woman getting mauled by all the young kids was your Aunt Christine, and that her three kids were named Kate, Emily, and James. The woman nursing her glass of wine was your older sister, Caroline, and that the baby she was cradling was your three month old nephew. Her husband was one of the three men sitting on the couch. The other two being your uncle Mark and your grandfather.

“The one in the war?”

You nod.

Christine is the one that makes the obligatory new-comer to the family joke about there being a test later on who is who, and when your mother has finally put the turkey in the oven, she turns around to get a good look at Luke.

“So,” she begins, wiping her hands on a tea towel and untying her apron. “You’re the famous Luke that my baby talks endlessly about every time she calls home.” You throw her a look, one that clearly means stop- but Luke just laughs softly and squeezes your hand again.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Luke grins.

“So Luke,” your sister pipes up. “What do you do?”

Luke hesitates. His job was slightly unconventional, so he always just assumed you would have told them about it.

“I work for the Bureau,” he states nonchalantly, but he notices the hush that falls over the room.

“The FBI?” your sister asks.

Luke bites his lip and nods.

“Is that like the police?” one of the little kids asks.

Luke nods, smiling, “Yeah, I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

There’s a blank silence- Luke interprets it as no one knows what the hell that meant.

He clarifies.

“I study criminal behavior to assist in investigations.”

The whole kitchen remains quiet. Luke feels his stomach drop, as he suddenly starts wondering if he said something wrong. He notices you flinch, digging nails into the back of his hand until someone breaks the silence.

“Y/N,” says your grandfather from the couch, and everyone turns to look at him. “Is that boy a cop?”

“He’s not a cop,” you say. “He’s FBI. There’s a difference.”

Luke turns to look at you, lips parted in surprise. Clearly he was missing something here, as the tension grew thicker.

“You’re dating a cop?” He asks, standing right in front of the two of you now.

Luke lets go of your hand and wipes it hastily on his pants.

“He’s not a cop, he’s-”

“He’s a cop,” your grandfather sighs, he doesn’t seem mad, more disappointed. “After what your family has been through, I figured you’d know better.”

Luke looks between you and your grandfather uncomfortably before taking a step back towards the entryway of the kitchen.

“I- uh-” Luke stammers. “I didn’t mean to offend anyone-”

“You didn’t,” your mother pipes in finally. “Dad- that’s enough.”

“Okay,” he says, putting his hands up in defense. But the malice was still there.

Luke takes another step back. “Maybe I should go- I don’t mean to impose.” He takes another few steps before turning around altogether.

He hears you scoff harshly. “Nice going.”

You chase after him, grabbing Luke’s hand and pull him straight out the front door. Luke stands off to the side of the yard, pinching harshly at his own nose.

You reach for Luke with an apologetic look on your face. Luke opens his mouth before you can, though, spitting out the words that are probably on everyone else’s mind right now.

“I should leave,” he says, taking a step back when you reach for him again. “They hate me. I knew I shouldn’t have come in the first place. I’ll call an Uber home, you can take the car.” he mutters, turning away and reaching into his pocket for his phone.

“Luke,” you argue, pulling his arm down. Luke groans, refusing to meet your gaze.

“You’re not leaving,” you say. “They don’t hate you, not at all. They haven’t even gotten to know you yet, and they’re absolutely not going to hate you because of your job, of all things. My Grandfather is just a little crazy, but he’ll get over it, I swear,” you assure him.

“Why didn’t you tell them I was in the FBI in the first place, if you talk about me to your mom so much? Kind of a defining feature, I would think,” he grumbles, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Uh, it didn’t come up?” you offer. Luke rolls his eyes.

“Did it have to?” He asks, voice dripping with annoyance.

You finally sigh, rolling your eyes and running your hand through your hair. “Alright, my dad was a cop. Right here in Baltimore. He died when I was thirteen. Shot in the line of duty. So we had to grow up without him. I didn’t tell them you were a cop because I knew that if I did my mom would wanna talk about my dad, and I didn’t want to talk about my dad.”

There’s a long, heavy silence before you sigh.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told her,” you admit, shoulders slumping slightly. “I didn’t think any of them would react like this. I guess it’s still a little raw.”

Luke takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, letting that all sink in. He can see why your family might be a little cautious. Because all that hurt that your family had to deal with must have really been awful.

“You never told me that. I’m sorry that happened,” he says softly, reaching out to squeeze your hand. You look up at him hopefully, trying to lace your fingers together.

“I promise, after like five minutes of getting to know you, they’re going to love you, just like I did, I promise.”

Your eyes widen at your sudden admission. You look to Luke to see if he noticed your slip up. His grin says it all.

“Love me, huh?” he asks slyly.

You try to brush it off, but Luke’s not having it.

He takes a step forward in the grass and gently touches your chin, he tilts it up so that you’re looking at him. “I love you, too.” He says before pressing his soft lips to yours.

When he pulls away, you bite back your smile. “So you’ll try?” You ask.

Luke nods his head and lets you tug him back inside the house.

“Luke,” your mother says softly and Luke freezes, looking up at her like a deer in the headlights. He can only imagine that she’s about to kindly ask him to leave. “Oh, you poor thing, how rude you must think we are,” she says instead.

Luke shakes his head. “No ma’am,” he insists.

“I’m not sure if Y/N has told you about her father, but he was a cop. Sixteen years,” she stares off as if remembering him. “He passed away in the line of duty. It was terrible- the kids having to grow up without their father. And terrible for me to raise them without my husband. I never wanted that for my kids.”

Luke’s chest tightens again.

“But I’m so sorry about what my father said to you, and I want you to know that you are always welcome inside this house, because you obviously make my daughter very happy, and that makes me very happy,” she says, giving you a smile that looks so much like yours that it eases him just the same.

He releases the breath he was holding and lets himself smile, nodding quickly. “Thank you,” he says, giving your mother his most genuine smile.

“See? Told you she’d love you,” you say smugly.

Luke chuckles softly.

During dinner, Luke works his charm and is able to wiggle his way into every family member's heart. You marvel in awe as he’s able to carry on a conversation about football with your grandfather and uncle. Luke knows a surprising amount about the Ravens- even though he’s a Patriots fan. After dinner, when they all gather in the living room to watch the game, Luke turns out to be as loud and passionate about football as the rest of the men, even with Kate seated on his thigh, because for some reason she will not let him put her down.

After dessert is over you and Luke finally start to say your goodbyes to everyone with promises to visit soon.

By the time you get back to Luke’s apartment, you’re both too full and sleepy from the turkey to do much more than cuddle for a while.

“I told you my family would adore you,” you sigh. “Even my grandfather warmed up to you by the end of the night. Everyone loves you. But I love you the most,” you say, clearly already drifting off to sleep.

Luke smiles to himself and presses a long kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you too,” he whispers softly, before letting himself drift off to sleep as well.

#luke alvez imagine #luke alvez fic #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x reader imagine #luke alvez x reader fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader imagine

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chickwiththepurpleguitar · 3 years ago

Note

If you're still taking prompts you should do some rebuke and hurt/comfort!!

Sorry this took so long, but luckily there's a lot of it!! Hope you enjoy!

This is part of my All Too Well Splinterverse series, so a direct sequel to something about it felt like home somehow, cause there we are again in the middle of the night, and so casually cruel in the name of being honest. It won't make much sense if you haven't read all three of those.

read on ao3 here!

Bobby gives it three days. Three days where he catches up on missing homework and takes his antibiotics and a lot of naps and feels like a terrible person. And then he calls Luke.

“I fucked up,” he says the second Mrs. Patterson passes over the phone, without so much as bothering to say hello.

“Whoa, uh, okay,” Luke says, and coughs a little awkwardly. “Did you cheat on me or something? Are we breaking up? Cause if we’re breaking up, you gotta at least give me twenty minutes to get over there; no way in hell am I letting you dump me over the phone.”

“No! What? No.” Bobby’s out in the studio for some privacy; he sits up on the couch and runs a hand through his hair, grips the cordless phone a little tighter. “This has nothing to do with you! I fucked up with Reggie.”

“Reggie?” Luke repeats. “Dude, what’d you do? Kick a puppy or something?”

Bobby lets out a sigh that’s really more of a groan. To be fair, he probably could’ve started this conversation with just a tiny bit of context. “ No. I just… I think I hurt his feelings.”

Luke’s quiet for a really long time, in that thoughtful, pensive way he usually only gets when he’s writing a song. It’s usually accompanied by a lot of bouncing and fidgeting, because Luke gets restless easily, and if he can’t expel energy through his mouth, he’s gotta let it out some other way or he’ll implode. It almost brings a smile to Bobby’s lips, just thinking about it. Finally, Luke says, “Can I come over?”

Despite himself, Bobby’s stomach flips at the question. He and Luke have talked almost every day in the last week or so, but they haven’t actually seen each other in person since Luke got out of the hospital. They’ve both been too sick, and then Luke’s been trying to stay home as much as he can, build some trust back up with his mom.

“I might be contagious still,” Bobby warns him, rubbing absently at his chest. “No fever since the day before yesterday, but I’ve still got this cough I can’t shake.”

Luke scoffs, like he knows just as well as Bobby how lame an excuse that is. “Bro, I’m pretty sure I can’t catch the cold I gave you. If you’re not ready, I get it, but… whatever happened with Reggie, I think it’d be easier if we talk face to face.”

Luke pauses, then adds, “Plus, you know… I really do want to see you.”

Bobby has to swallow past a piercing ray of sunshine shooting through his stomach. “I want to see you, too. Okay, come on over, just know my mom’s probably gonna fuss over you.”

“Yeah, well, the last time she saw me, I was unconscious and dying, so I can’t exactly blame her.”

A smile tugs at Bobby’s lips. He and Luke may have gotten together under the strangest circumstances— and “together” is still sort of a loose term; mostly, they’ve just made out a couple times and Luke gave Bobby bronchitis— but at least they have each other now. More than that, even— they both have their families back.

“Think your mom will be cool?” Bobby checks. “With you coming over, I mean? I know she’s been keeping you on kind of a tight leash. And I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“She’s barely met you,” Luke points out.

“Yeah, and the one time she did, she called me a kidnapper. And something in French that you refuse to translate.”

“Purely for your own good.” Luke’s teasing grin is audible, even over the phone. “Listen, Bobbers, that was an emotional day for us all, and Emily Patterson is hardly well-known for being calm and rational under stressful circumstances. But once I sat her down and explained everything to her, I think the ‘saved me from dying’ thing made up for the ‘hid me in your garage for two months’ thing. She likes you just fine.”

Bobby’s not entirely sure he believes him, but there’s no point in pushing it. “Well, if you need me to come over there instead, just let me know.” He starts to swing his legs off the couch, bending over to search for his shoes, but has to pause to cough into his elbow a few times, his chest twinging.

“Half an hour,” Luke insists. “And drink some tea while you wait for me, I don’t like that you’re still coughing.”

Bobby grumbles noncommittally, lays back down on the couch. “Just get over here, Patterson. I can’t deal with your mother henning over the phone.”

Luke breathes out a laugh, and it might just be the most beautiful sound Bobby’s ever heard. “Love you, too, baby.”

***

Luke hangs up the phone and immediately takes stock of himself.

The last week, living back at home with his mom and dad again, has not been nearly as bad as he thought it would be. Maybe he’s gotten more patient since running away from home. Maybe his parents have gotten a little more perspective. Maybe all three of them just needed a few months apart and a serious wake-up call to start seeing things through each other’s eyes.

Whatever the reason, Luke and his mom haven’t fought once since he moved back home, and his dad even told Luke he’d like to come to one of his shows once Sunset Curve starts playing again. They’ve had to establish a lot of new boundaries, the three of them, and quite a few ground rules— if Luke weren’t sick, he’d be in trouble, his mom said, but she thought his hospital stay and cracked ribs were punishment enough— but so far things have been good. And Luke would very much like to keep them that way.

So, he stands in front of the bathroom mirror and takes a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth. The breath is free of congestion, doesn’t make him cough or hurt his ribs anymore. His face is a little red— purely just because talking to Bobby these days makes him blush like crazy— so he splashes some cool water on his face and waits until the flush fades from his cheeks before he heads out to the living room.

Emily’s sitting on the couch with her knitting, an old episode of The Brady Bunch playing low on the TV. She looks up and smiles when he enters, and Luke’s skin crawls a little. She gets this look on her face sometimes, when she looks at him now. Like she can’t believe how lucky she is. Like she still sort of expects to wake up and find she’s lost him. Again.

It makes Luke feel all sorts of guilty.

“Off the phone?” she asks him, a little redundantly, as he hands over the cordless. “How’s Robert?”

“Bobby’s feeling better,” Luke says honestly. He sticks his thumbs through his belt loops and rocks back and forth on his heels, standing awkwardly in front of the couch. “Can I go to his tonight? Something happened between him and Reggie, I was gonna help him out.”

Emily frowns, but doesn’t outright refuse, or accuse him of lying so that he can go out and play a club or something, like she might have three months ago. Maybe she really does trust him more now, or maybe she just likes Reggie enough to put aside her suspicions, but all she says is, “How are you feeling?”

Luke takes another slow breath, letting her hear how it doesn’t so much as catch in his throat. “No cough, no fever. Ribs only hurt when I get out of breath, but I’ll bike slowly, and we won’t be playing or anything. I’ll leave my guitars here, even.”

He sees it in his mom’s expression— the trust in him, the complete and utter belief she has that he’s telling her the truth. It’s something he might’ve taken advantage of, before. But for the first time in his life, he has absolutely no desire to lie to her.

Emily gently lays her knitting down on the coffee table in front of her and gestures Luke forward, stretching out a hand. He obediently leans down to let her brush his fringe aside and feel his forehead.

She hums approvingly a moment later and lets him go. “Ask your father to drive you. Will you be home for dinner, or are you spending the night?”

“I’m not sure,” Luke says, “but I’ll call around five either way?”

“Perfect.” She gives him that smile again— that look — and Luke turns away before he can think too hard about how much he doesn’t deserve it.

His dad is quiet on the drive over, but he lets Luke fiddle with the radio and kick his feet up on the dashboard, and doesn’t protest when Luke rolls the window up and down every five minutes. He parks the car in Bobby’s driveway, right outside the studio, but doesn’t shut the engine off. Something tells Luke to linger an extra moment or two before getting out.

“You need any money?” Mitch asks, finally.

No, but I’ll take some, Luke would’ve said, before, and then probably blown it on junk food or guitar picks or something. Instead, he shakes his head, leg bouncing, says, “Nah, dad, we’re just gonna be talking.”

Mitch nods and leans forward to peer through the windshield up at the studio. Luke follows his gaze. He can only imagine what his dad must be thinking: So this is where my son was living for two months because he didn’t feel safe at home.

“I’ll call home to let you know when to pick me up,” Luke says, desperate to fill the silence, and reaches for the door handle. “See you later, Dad.”

He catches half a glimpse of his father’s face as he heads up the drive: Mitch looks pensive and sad, and at least twenty years older than he really is.

Luke drags in a breath, and tries not to feel too guilty.

He’s barely rapped his knuckles against the studio door when it’s yanked open from the inside and Luke gets a faceful of t-shirt as Bobby tugs him into a strong-armed hug.

“Hey!” Luke laughs breathlessly. “I missed you, too.”

Bobby presses his face into Luke’s neck, tightening his hold. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, baby.” Luke rubs his back, trying to follow his instincts without getting too self-conscious. He hasn’t seen Bobby in a while, and somehow using pet names and terms of endearment was easier over the phone. Holding him and letting himself be held was easier when he was sick and hurting and had an easy excuse. But he doesn’t want Bobby to think Luke loves him any less, or that Luke’s ashamed of him or something, just because they’re both healthy.

Still. “We should get inside,” he murmurs, lips pressed into Bobby’s hair. “My dad’s kinda sitting in his car watching us, and I can feel him getting uncomfortable.”

Bobby snorts, his shoulders shaking under Luke’s touch. But then he nods and pulls away, swiping the back of his hand across his face; Luke thinks he catches the glisten of tears.

Inside the studio, with the doors shut tight and the sound of Luke’s dad’s car disappearing down the street, Luke sits Bobby down on the couch and says, “So. Reggie.”

Bobby’s quiet as he tells the story, his head ducked low and his hands clasped tightly between his legs. Luke keeps a hand on Bobby’s back, rubbing gentle circles as he listens to Bobby talk.

When he goes quiet, Luke takes a minute to breathe and think, before he carefully summarizes, “So… Reggie’s mad at you cause you didn’t wanna tell Alex about your headaches?”

“Reggie’s mad at me,” Bobby corrects, his voice breathy with exhaustion, “because I didn’t wanna tell him either. If he hadn’t caught me in the middle of one, I probably wouldn’t have said anything at all.”

“How come?” Luke tries for gentle, but he’s not sure he quite makes the mark. “You had no trouble telling me.”

“You’re easy,” Bobby grumbles. “I didn’t exactly have to try hard to make a good first impression. Doesn’t matter so much if you think I’m weak.”

“And it does with Reggie?” He doesn’t bother asking about Alex. Luke loves the guy, but he knows better than anyone how bitey and judgmental Alex can get. How slow to trust. Luke doesn’t much love showing weakness in front of Alex either. But Reggie… “Bro, Reggie just wants to be helpful. He’d care that you’re hurting, not that you weren’t totally together all the time. He wouldn’t think you’re weak.” He adds as an afterthought, “...and Alex would get over it.”

Bobby huffs out a laugh. He chokes on it, then turns away from Luke to cough into his fist. Luke rubs his back, feeling the tremors that the coughing fit causes, and winces in sympathy as Bobby takes a slow breath and rubs his chest like it hurts. Luke knows the feeling.

Acting on instinct, Luke reaches over and brushes Bobby’s hair back, pressing a palm to his forehead. He doesn’t feel warm, thank god, but he still leans into the touch, his eyes closing in relief, even as he mumbles, “Told you, I don’t have a fever.”

“I know,” Luke says softly, and really means, I’m sorry. “You want my advice, about Reggie?”

Bobby gives a tiny nod, makes a soft whining sound in the back of his throat that Luke is pretty sure is supposed to be a yes.

“You don’t have to try so hard. Reggie and Alex both, they… they want to be your friends. You just gotta let them.” He runs his hand through Bobby’s hair in slow, gentle strokes. “And with Reggie, a sincere apology goes a long way.”

Bobby nods again and slumps over to lay his head on Luke’s shoulder. “I’ll call him in the morning. For tonight…” Luke feels him tense, but when Bobby lifts his eyes to Luke’s, they’re open and vulnerable and honest, as he says, “Will you stay?”

Luke’s heart does a happy little flip-flop inside his chest. “Of course I will.” He presses a kiss to Bobby’s head and reluctantly pushes himself up off the couch. “Lemme just go call my folks and let them know I’m sleeping over. If I’m not back in ten, assume your mom’s kidnapped me to test out that aromatherapy treatment she kept going on about. And I’m bringing you tea.”

Bobby protests out of principle, calls him a nuisance, and a worrywart and a nag, but Luke feels Bobby’s smile on his back all the way out the door.

***

Reggie drops his bike along the wall beneath the Pattersons’ front window and skips up to the door, swallowing back the nerves drying his throat before quickly jabbing his finger against the doorbell.

Its chime echoes long and loud, enough that it makes Reggie flinch, makes him pick at his fingers and start to think that maybe coming here wasn't the best idea after all.

Because Luke’s still recovering. Luke’s got a boyfriend now. Luke shouldn’t have to spend time and energy worrying about Reggie and all his problems.

But before Reggie can turn around and leave, the door opens, and Luke’s mom smiles at him.

“Reginald! How are you, dear?”

“Very well, thank you!” Reggie smiles politely, bouncing on his heels a little. “How are you, Mrs. P?”

“I’m just fine, Reginald.” She leans against the doorway, her expression turning a little amused. “Did you need something, dear? Luke’s not home.”

“Oh, he’s not?” Reggie’s heart sinks. He clears his throat a little. “Um, is he… do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Probably not until morning. He’s staying at Robert’s tonight.”

“He’s sleeping over?” he repeats, surprised. Mitch and Emily Patterson don’t seem like the kind of parents who’d be particularly chill about their son spending the night at his boyfriend’s house.

It only then occurs to Reggie that maybe they don’t know Bobby is Luke’s boyfriend…

“I have the phone number,” Mrs. Patterson says, oblivious to Reggie’s conundrum, “if you needed to get in touch with Luke.”

“Oh. Oh, no, it’s okay.” Reggie fixes his smile back into place, swallows thick disappointment. “I’ll head over to Bobby’s, or… or I’ll catch Luke another time. Thanks, Mrs. P!”

He thinks she might start to say something else, but Reggie doesn’t hang around to listen. He scoops up his bike and disappears down the drive, pedaling as hard as he can so the adrenaline will overtake his complex jumble of emotions.

He shouldn’t bother Luke. He doesn’t really need him. He’d just been lonely, and his parents were fighting, and getting out of the house seemed like a really good idea at the time. Plus, he’s been sulking for days now since he yelled at Bobby, and Luke somehow always knows how to cheer Reggie up, even if Reggie wasn’t exactly planning on telling him what’s wrong.

But Luke’s with Bobby. Reggie can’t interrupt them. Luke will almost undoubtedly be mad at Reggie if he finds out Reggie shouted at his boyfriend. Bobby’s probably mad at him already.

As far as Reggie knows, Bobby might just turn him away on sight. Before Reggie even has half a chance to apologize.

Despite this thought process, Reggie’s bike skids to a stop on familiar concrete, bringing him to the realization that he rode to the studio without even thinking about it.

One of the doors has been left open. He can smell popcorn and spices carried out on the wind. He can hear Luke’s laughter, Bobby coughing, a Rolling Stones album playing softly in the background.

It makes Reggie’s throat feel tight, makes it hurt to breathe. He’s so… lonely. He wants what they have, and knows he can’t get it.

He should just go home.

He starts to turn away, but Luke’s voice stops him, calling, “Reg, hey! What are you doing here, man?”

Reggie swallows and awkwardly turns back to face the studio, where Luke’s lounging in the doorway grinning at him, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Reggie manages a tiny smile of his own that he can only hope is convincing. “Hey, Luke. You, uh… your mom told me you’d be here.”

Reggie starts to add, But I should probably just go, but the words die on his tongue when Bobby appears over Luke’s shoulder, looking pale and tired, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders up at his ears.

“Hey, Reg,” Bobby says, low and gruff.

Reggie swallows, his hands tightening their grip around the handlebars of his bike. “I just… I wanted to talk to Luke?” he says simply, which isn’t totally a lie. “But I can go… if I’m not welcome.”

“What?” Bobby’s expression crumples, and he pushes past Luke to step forward, toward Reggie. “Reg, no, I— of course you’re welcome here. You’re always—” He breaks off, glancing over his shoulder at Luke, who gestures encouragingly. Bobby sighs and turns back, squaring his shoulders. “Reggie, I need to apologize to you. Again.”

Reggie gapes, baffled. “Wha— I— Bobby, no, I should be apologizing to you!”

“Me? Why?”

“Cause I yelled at you.”

“Yeah, but you were right!” Bobby takes another step forward, close enough that he can reach out a hand to hover over Reggie’s, still gripping tight to his handlebars. “Reggie, I’m not good at asking for help. I’m not used to being seen as weak and not having that be a bad thing. But I’m done lying, and I’m done hiding things. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, Reg. And I do want to be your friend.” He takes a deep breath, shoots Luke another quick look, and then says softly, “I’m gonna start being better, Reggie. I promise. I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like I didn’t trust you. Like I didn’t like you. I do. I really do.”

Reggie’s left speechless, and a little choked. He stands there for a few moments, his mouth working but no sound coming out, and stares at Luke and Bobby both, searching their faces for any hint of a sign from either of them that Bobby’s kidding or making fun of him.

Reggie knows Bobby doesn’t mean it— liking him — the way Reggie wants him to, the way Reggie likes him back. But it still puts a lump in his throat, to hear Bobby say it at all — Bobby who never admits to liking anyone!

Reggie doesn’t realize he’s started crying until he tastes salt on his lips and Luke bounds forward to pull Reggie into his arms. That seems to break the floodgates open, then; Reggie lets his bike fall to the concrete with a clatter, buries his face in Luke’s shirt, and sobs.

Luke doesn’t ask why he’s crying, or tell him to stop. He just holds Reggie tight, and when Reggie chokes out, “I was just so lonely, ” whispers, Shh, it’s okay, I know.

Somehow, they end up inside the studio on the folded-out couch. Luke gently pushes Reggie to lie down in the middle, and then immediately climbs in next to him, pulling a mountain of blankets over them both.

After a few moments of awkward hesitation, Bobby joins them on Reggie’s other side, lowering himself gently onto the mattress and curling up so that Reggie feels his warmth without them actually touching.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Reggie gasps out, his tears starting to slow.

“I wish you’d do it more often.” Bobby gives him a tiny smile and slowly slides his hand into Reggie’s. “You can’t get rid of me, man. I got you.”

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @teenagedirtbag-dot-jpeg @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @molinapattersons @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard @jatpfs

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfiction #fanfiction #my fics #prompt fill #500 followers aaaah!!!#reggie peters #bobby shaw #bobby wilson #luke patterson #rebuke #peterpatter #lukebobby #boggie #angst #sickfic #hurt/comfort

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since0202 · 4 years ago

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Chapter 21: Return

When Grace shut the door behind her, Paul was coming around the front of the truck to her when they heard a voice shout out across the clearing to them. They were still a little early, but some members of the pack were there building the bonfire pit and helping some of the community set up tables for the food spread.

“Hey!” Jared shouted across the field. Paul raised a hand and waved back, stuffing his keys into his pocket before holding his hand out to Grace who gladly took it.

“This feels so official,” Grace said leaning into him as they walked in step with one another.

“Oh it is. The binding ceremony is a real ball buster, but worth it if I get to kiss you in public,” he said nonchalantly. Grace looked up at him confused for a minute and then said,

“You’re so full of shit, Lahote.” He laughed and unfurled his hand from hers to drape it across her shoulder instead and pulled her into him to kiss the top of her head before they reached the group.

They entered the raucous of hoots and hollers from the pack. Grace gave Emily a quick hug before settling next to her quickly as Paul helped prepare the bonfire with the others. Grace always felt at home here. Speaking of home:

“Weird question,” Emily had asked after she confirmed with Grace that her and Paul had made it official. She seemed pleased when Grace had said they were so that was a good sign.

“Shoot,” Grace said.

“After graduation, are you planning on moving back to the rez?” Emily asked casually. Grace felt like she had been smacked with a 2x4.

“Umm, I mean. I don’t know my plans just yet, but….maybe?” Grace said suddenly. Where were these words coming from? Grace had planned on taking some classes at the community college in the fall to get her bearings for the next step, but the Spirit Bird thing had kind of thrown things off course for her. Her grades were good enough to get into local schools according to her advisor but she didn’t know if she was ready to leave just yet.

“Think about it. The tribe has money set aside to help tribe members relocate to the rez and find a home here. I’m sure Paul would love it, and you clearly belong here.” Emily nudged her on that last one.

“Thanks, yeah. I’ll-I’ll think about it.” Grace said. Suddenly there was a flurry of activity around her as the rest of the tribe drew near for the lighting of the bonfire. Paul had come over and handed her a drink before taking her back to their spot.

As the council members gave updates about the tribe, Grace settled into Paul’s side, however she couldn’t help her eyes dancing around the group to see if Jake would show. When she and Emily were talking, Quil and Embry were close by discussing Jake’s whereabouts. Apparently he’d been gone for a couple days now. Grace breathed a sigh of relief that he might not yet know that she and Paul were a thing. She wasn’t ashamed, she just wanted to be in this happy bubble a little while longer.

But her bubble quickly burst when she saw just outside the ring of people, Jacob’s towering frame, arms crossed and looking toward the fire. She made eye contact with him for a half a second trying to keep her thoughts clear before laying her head on Paul’s shoulder to continue listening.

Once the official business was wrapped up, they broke for food—the most fun part of bonfire night.

“Want me to grab you something?” Paul said eagerly, a hand lightly placed around her waist.

“Sure! Whatever you’re getting just grab me some. I’m going to make the rounds,” Grace gestured over her shoulder to a waiting crowd looking in her direction.

“Go on, Spirit Bird,” he kissed her forehead and let her slip away toward the group. She was greeted cheerfully by the throng of people waiting to receive her.

Grace noticed more and more that part of her role as Spirit Bird was not just the connecting link between the wolves that made them work better together, or the fact that she could provide protection with her shield and whatever other abilities waited under the surface, but she was also an emotional and spiritual conduit for her tribe. By even just conversing, sharing details with her, sharing emotions, connecting through touch and eye contact, Grace could relieve some of their anxiety, pain, grief, or worry. The best way that she could describe it was that she felt craved by the tribe.

So she took her time moving from circle to circle, checking in, exchanging hugs and forehead touches, just being with the people who loved her. This also gave Grace immense relief and she felt so needed here that Emily’s suggestion of moving to the rez after graduation didn’t sound so crazy. Paul’s eyes followed her every now and then, keeping track of her in the crowd until she reached the outer edge where Ti’Hal was milling about with some children.

Grace made her way to her and crouched next to her letting her know she was there by placing a hand on her arm and smiling warmly, not needing to communicate verbally. Ti’Hal returned the smile and then stood. She cupped her hands warmly on Grace’s face and said:

“Little bird, you seem happy.”

“I am,” Grace almost choked out.

“That’s good dear.” Suddenly, Ti’Hal’s eyes were distracted over Grace’s shoulder toward the treeline. Grace turned to see Jake just standing off outside of trees. His eyes pulled at Grace and she felt that familiar tug in her middle that had been absent for awhile since she hadn’t seen him. She looked back to Ti’Hal wanting to stay with her and pretend like she hadn’t seen him. Not yet, not yet. The voice in Grace’s head begged. Ti’Hal gave her a knowing look and once again pulled her face down to hers, pressing their foreheads together.

“You are both trying so hard to be different people. Why must you draw out fate like this?”

“What?” Grace said incredulous. Two seconds ago Ti’Hal had acknowledged how happy she was and now she was trying to be someone different?

“Little bird, youth carries you now, but don’t fight it for too long or you both will suffer.” Ti’Hal let go of her face seriously and moved back across the lawn toward the elders. Grace stood up straight, shocked.

“What the hell-”

“Can I talk to you?” Grace nearly shot out of her skin at the request behind her. She whipped around coming face to face with Jake, a pleading but strong look on his face. Her bubble had indeed, spectacularly burst.

Grace looked around her immediate vicinity for any sign of Paul. She knew two things for sure: 1) If he saw her with Jake, he’d come immediately to her rescue and 2) if he found her with Jake there might be hell to pay.

Not seeing Paul anywhere nearby and the throng of the tribe separating them from the immediate sight line of the bonfire, she nodded with a terse ‘fine’ and followed him as he led her to the forest.

They went just inside the treeline, maybe 40 yards in, where they could still hear the bustle of the of bonfire and the see the light of the flames. Jake turned and Grace kept a good bit of distance between them so that nothing could be misconstrued if they were happened upon by a member of the pack.

“Yes?” Grace said a little irritated. Jake shook his head and scowled at that.

“Really?” He shot back. Okay, so this was going to be a fight. Grace thought to herself.

“What, Jake? I haven’t heard from you or seen you in days, what could you possibly want?” Grace was mostly irritated because that tug that she had quieted was roaring back trying to pull them together like a magnet and she felt it’s discomfort by refusing it.

“Oh please. So I’m gone a few days and you immediately shack up with Paul?” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth and tried quickly to back track when he saw the outraged, open mouthed look on Grace’s face, “I just mean...I just want to know: Are you guys officially dating or what?”

“Jesus, Jake. This is what you wanted to ask me? Yes, Paul is my boyfriend. And you could have asked me that in front of him instead of playing this secret hideout game. This is crap, I’m going back,” Grace turned to leave but Jake took an immediate step forward and shouted after her.

“That’s absolute shit, you know. If you listened to what Ti’Hal said-”

“And what did Ti’Hal say to YOU, EXACTLY?” Grace interjected swinging around and letting anger color her voice clearly. He had no right.

“Exactly what she told you. If you listened to yourself, you’d know that being with Paul is just going to end up a mess. Grace. At some point...he’s going to im-”

“And who am I supposed to be with instead?” Grace said, taking quick steps forward and closing the gap between them. She couldn’t stifle her anger any longer. She wanted to kill him, wanted to hurt him, wanted him to feel bad for saying all of these things to her when she was happy. She came right up to him and shouted, “You?! I’m supposed to be with you?”

Jacob didn’t move, didn’t wince, just stared down at Grace like he wanted to speak.

“Because last I checked, you were still hung up on Bella. And I have a boyfriend.” Jacob grimaced at the mention of Bella and looked away for a second. Hurting him like this didn’t give Grace the satisfaction she was hoping for and she faltered some, anger dissolving into sadness.

“I’m happy Jake. Let me be happy. Please, please, please. Please.” Tears stung at her eyes as she begged without looking at him. He reached for her now and whispered, “Grace.” before touching her arms and trying to pull her into a hug. Grace shoved away from him, not letting herself get caught in this again.

“NO!” she bellowed putting more distance between them again. And it was just at this moment that she heard a booming voice come up behind her.

“Grace!” the voice shouted. She couldn’t tell if it’s intonation was one of recognition, concern, or anger, but she was going to bet it was probably all three. Paul was in front of her in a second, pushing Jacob in the chest, “Back up!”

“Screw you, Paul.” Jacob shot back, the anger returning. “We’re just talking.”

“I’m going to tell you this once and only once: if you touch her again, you’re going to regret it.” Paul returned, seething anger building in his voice. Grace took a step forward to interject.

“She’s not your property, Paul. She’s here for everyone.”

“She’s MINE. She’s MY girlfriend. And the sooner you understand that the more likely you are to remain intact, alpha-reject.” Paul shot back.

“Paul, that’s enough!” Grace said stepping forward and grabbing onto his arm. He yanked it free from her to her surprise and pushed Jake again, who pushed him back. Both of their bodies shook violently.

Jared and Embry crashed into focus and pushed between them, separating them from one another.

“Paul, get a grip,” Jared warned, pushing him back toward Grace. Embry was leaning into Jacob talking quietly to him and Jacob seemed to gain his composure. “Take Grace and get out of here.” Jared tried to command. Paul made eye contact with Jared for a second before shaking himself free and quickly turning to roughly grab Grace around the shoulders and steering her back toward the treeline muttering, “We’re leaving.”

Once out past the treeline and in sight of the car, Grace shook Paul off of her and gave him a scathing look before treading quick ahead to swing around at him, “Paul what the fuck?!”

“Get in the car.” he said solidly, not stopping. “I’m taking you home.”

Grace turned to watch him climb into the car and waited for a half second, the look he gave her made her want to dissolve. “Grace!” he yelled impatiently. She gave in and walked to the car yanking the passenger door open and climbing inside, crossing her arms.

When Paul pulled into his drive, Grace perked up and said half confused, “I thought you were taking me home?”

Paul didn’t say anything and just got out of his car and walked into his house. Grace sat in the car for a moment, readying herself for a fight before taking a deep breath and pushing her door open. Paul had left the front door open and she walked through closing it behind her, trying to calm her nerves. Paul was at the sink drinking a glass of water.

Grace waited for him to speak first.

“Why is it that whenever I don’t know where you are, I find out that you’re somewhere alone with Jacob Black every time?” Paul said, his voice even but hurt and anger still clearly etched in his tone. Grace’s hands shook a little bit from the nerves.

The ache in Grace was growing after seeing Jake and leaving him so quickly again. She hated this part, so she tried hard to quiet it again, but Paul wasn’t playing ball.

“Paul, that’s not what that was and you know it. He was asking if we were together and I said yes we very much were and that he was an idiot and could have asked me that in front of you.”

Paul watched her with a critical eye and dumped the rest of the water down the sink before coming into the living room and leaning against the wall.

“Part of me laying claim was to assure everyone that you’re mine. But for whatever reason, Jake doesn’t seem to respect those boundaries so I need your help there.” Paul was calmer now but not coming near her.

“I did tell him we were together.”

“That’s not enough.” Paul said quickly. Grace closed her mouth quickly not sure what to say next. What else was she supposed to do? Her arms hung limply at their sides. As if on cue, Paul said: “You can’t be alone with him.” Pain shot through Grace on this request.

“How am I supposed to-?” Grace started and Paul let out an annoyed hiss before turning down the hallway toward his bedroom, “Paul! I’m talking to you!”

He swung around, the anger back, “I asked you something very simple. For us to work, I need you to make the boundary clear because CLEARLY the line gets blurred when you two are alone together. I’m not blaming you. I’m asking you to choose me. Like I chose you, Grace. Fuck!” he yelled turning back down the hallway. He disappeared into his bedroom and Grace heard the shower turn on. She put a hand to her head trying to hold back her tears.

How was she supposed to stay away from Jake when everything in her pulled her toward him? But something Paul had said was right: the lines got blurred and that wasn’t fair to him. If she wanted this work, she had to do this. And she desperately wanted this to work.

Grace tread softly down the hallway, removing her sweater and jeans as she went. She was completely naked by the time she reached his bathroom door and hesitated, her hand hovering over the door knob. She’d promise him, she told herself.

She gently opened the door and climbed in the shower behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso, before saying: “Okay. I promise.”

Paul turned around and cupped his hand under her chin so she’d make eye contact with him.

“For real, Grace. I need a solid promise.”

“Paul. I promise. I won’t be alone with him ever.” she said clearly, water streaming in rivulets down her face. He nodded satisfied with her answer before leaning down to lock her in with a kiss. Their shower quickly devolved into Paul carefully carrying Grace to bed, both of them slick with warm water.

He buried his head between her legs and worked in there, pulling gasps and moans from Grace as she held tightly at his short hair. As she pulsed toward climax, one face lingered behind her closed lids as she lost herself in pleasure: Jacob’s scowl, Jacob’s pleading face, Jacob’s hands reaching for her arms and leaving scorching heat just from a soft tentative touch. She shivered with release and then Paul was above her, moving into her and washing away the pictures from her head. She bit her lower lip and focused, guilt flooding her instantly.

#twilight fanfiction #Twilight FanFic #twilight #new moon #eclipse #jacob black #jacobblackxoc #paul lauhote #paul lahote pairing #paul lahotexoc #edward cullen #bella swan #the cullens #the pack #chapter 21 #a monster lives here

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years ago

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Chapter 18 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

~|Emily Fox|~

Saturday is here sooner than I expected. The boys and I are at the back of the Music Store where Open Mic Night ensues, rehearsing our entire setlist. Ash scolded at me when I told her we had six songs to perform but let us do our thing anyway since not a lot of artists have registered for tonight’s show. “Such a pity we wasted all that fire on soundcheck,” Jeremy comments when we’ve finished playing Now or Never. The boys are all dripping with sweat, and my hair sticks to my head, making me look like an egg. “Yeah, Ems, you were on fire just now!” Owen says, holding his hand up for a high five, which I give him. “I think we’re going to do great tonight.” “I think so too!” A voice I recognize as Uncle Mitch’s echoes through the room. All four our head’s snap into his direction. He has a proud smile on his face as he glances around the room, completely mesmerized by everything. “How much of soundcheck did you hear?” I ask, hoping he didn’t hear Bright yet. It has to be a surprise. The old man hops onto the stage and wraps me up in a hug, which he immediately regrets. “You stink, girl,” he tells me, pulling back, “But I didn’t see anything, I just know you’re going to be great!” He looks up at the ceiling, inspecting the lighting situation. “This is a great place to play, Muffin,” he whistles in admiration. “You want to play another song, don’t you?” I ask him, knowing exactly where he’s going. “What?!” he screeches, but doesn’t bother further with playing coy, “Yes, can we? The other villain song Bobby wrote?” I roll my eyes at him, then nod to the boys. “Play something similar to what we did last time, more bass,” I tell them as they spring back into action. Owen counts us in, and we start playing while Uncle Mitch grabs an extra mic. “You know you wanna take a chance and be a little bit bad Ain't nothing quite like living on the edge so get ready to go I'm chasing down a thrill, and lookin' fit to kill So listen to the words a wise man said He said, "Covington, I got an offer that you can't refuse"” While I take care of backing vocals, the boys let go on their instruments whilst dancing around together. Mitch and I dance around each other. “You got nothing to lose, boys Lose, lose, lose You got nothing to lose, boys Lose, lose, lose You got nothing to lose” He grins up at me before turning to the boys and saying, “Welcome to my stage, boys” I walk over to Charlie whilst Uncle Mitch turns to our bassist. Charlie and I share a mic to add the little ‘ooh’s as a bit extra pizzazz. “You know you want a little taste Life's short, not a minute to waste I'll take you higher than you've ever been So come over and tell me how you'd like to begin” Uncle Mitch and I then switch places, so I can rock out with Jeremy and Mitch sings to my boyfriend.

“You got nothing to lose, boys Lose, lose, lose You got nothing to lose, boys Lose, lose, lose You got nothing to lose” Mitch points to Owen, and the other two stop playing for a moment, leaving Owen to shine. “Owen, show me what you've got” Jeremy then comes up with a really good bass riff. “Jeremy, swing it, baby” He then points to Charlie, who shreds a few amazing chords on his guitar. “Now Charlie, yeah” He then turns back to me. “You and me How do you like my new band?” To my absolute surprise, Uncle Mitch starts scatting, way better than Charlie did when we sang This Band is Back together. Then he goes back into the chorus, but says the words instead of singing us, leaving us with the little ‘ooh’s for extra effect. “You got nothing to lose So come over here, baby I got what you need Let yourself go crazy All bets on me, it's electrifying From your hat to your shoes I feel it in the air We got nothing to lose, nothing to lose, yeah” Uncle Mitch hits that last high note flawlessly, leaving the band in absolute awe. “I think we’re ready for tonight, you guys,” Charlie says with that award-winning smile of his plastered on his face while he places his guitar on its stand. “Definitely,” I agree as a rush of giddiness rushes through me. “I can’t wait for Emily and the Foxes’ debut performance!” Uncle Mitch claps his hands excitedly. “What time do you guys get on?” The boys all gather in the middle of the stage where my uncle and I already are. “Open Mic Night starts at 7, but we go on at 8,” I inform him. He nods in response and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll be here, just need to go and do something first.” He waves at the boys before getting off stage again, leaving me and the boys. Charlie walks up to me then and wraps his arms around me. He smells of sweat and hard work and sticks to me like a sticker in a sticker book. “I’m not the only one that stinks,” I comment with a chuckle. Charlie pulls his arms away, but I just pull him closer. “We’ll stink together.” I kiss him on his cheek. “How about we all go take a shower and get ready, then meet here again at 7?” Owen suggests, hopping off the stage. Everyone agrees with him, following behind. “Emmy, can I shower at your place?” Charlie asks me on our way out. “Uhm, yeah, sure! What’s wrong with your place?” The look I get from him is one of regret and shame mixed together. “You seriously haven’t been back to your parents’?” I make sure not to sound angry, even though I am. My voice eludes disappointment, though. “I’ll go tonight, I promise.” I shake my head at him. “You know what?” I start and comb a strand of hair of his from his forehead, “How about we’ll go shower at my place and after the show tonight, we’ll go to yours together, okay?” I can’t stop the words coming out of my mouth. Did I just suggest I meet his parents? “Are you sure you want that, baby?” It’s now his turn to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Uhm… Yeah…” I think about it for a moment. It can’t be that bad. And besides, if that’s what it takes to get Charlie back at his parents’ house without him being yelled at too much, that’s what I’ll do. “Yeah, I’m sure!” He offers me a smile before planting a kiss to my lips. “Let’s do it, then!” He grabs my hand and leads me out of the Music Store, and together, we head to my house. He lets me shower first, and while I get ready, he takes a shower. I’m sat in front of my makeup mirror, applying some show makeup, when Charlie enters my bedroom again with solely a towel wrapped around his waist. My mascara wand stops mid-air when I spot him in the reflection of my mirror. His abs are defined and dripping with the water. I’m not entirely sure if he does it on purpose or not, but he changes right behind me where I can see him through my mirror. “You look very pretty, baby,” he tells me when he catches me looking at him through the mirror as he throws a muscle tank on. I cough fumblingly and bring my concentration back to my mascara. “I like the glitter eyeshadow a lot. It makes you sparkle like the star you are.” He comes up behind me and presses a kiss to my now dry hair. “I like your shirt,” I tell him, “Is that a new one?” “No, it’s Jeremy’s, actually. But he said he didn’t wear it anymore, so,” he shrugs. “You ready?” I screw the lid of the mascara back on while nodding and getting up. We meet the boys back at the Music Store, all of them giddy to perform. The closer we get to 8pm, the more nervous I become. Especially when I see who’s on the side of the stage, getting ready to go on before us. Brianna Holly and her girl band. “Hey!” Madison greets me when the boys and I are at the back of the venue. “You ready?” “I was until I found out Dirty Candy is going to perform,” I nod towards the backstage area. “I even forgot she had a band!” Madison’s eyes are wide in shock. “I bet she just asked her daddy to call in some favors.” I chuckle nervously. Madison is probably right, but it somehow feels like an attack on our band. As the bubblegum pop music starts to play, I glance up at the boys. They’re all looking at Brianna and her band with smiles on their faces until Charlie meets my eyes and turns the smile into a scowl. “Whenever I walk in the room All the focus on me The way I talk the way I move They all want on my team” “They’re not that great, you know?” he comments with a nervous smile. “I mean, they got great moves?” Owen chimes in without taking his eyes off Dirty Candy and trying to imitate their moves. It causes him to bump into Charlie and he bumps into me. “Sorry,” he whispers, his hands steadily on my shoulders. “Not tryin' to brag, brag But I'm flawless I'm taking over your playlist Ain't perfect but I can't miss, yeah The party don't start till I walk in I'm stealing all the attention Don't get me started on mentions, yeah” I catch Jake’s eye from the other side of the room. He looks like a bored roadie until he sees me, and then he looks like a sad roadie. “Someone’s not having fun at his girlfriend’s gig,” I say to Charlie, nodding towards my ex. Charlie’s eyebrows furrow. “I hope he’s gone by the time we’re playing.” I notice him ball up his fists, so I grab his hand to relax him a little. “Come on, babe, he’s your ex! You don’t want him watching you, do you?” “Maybe I do, Charlie, because then he’ll see I’ve moved on and I’m happy.” Charlie grunts and turns back towards the performance, but I catch him glancing at Jake every now and again. “Some might say I sound conceited They don't get the shine that I get Some get jealous They can't help it They wish they were me”

“Can he like stop looking this way?” Charlie grumbles. When Charlie’s angry, he looks like a grumpy puppy and does not look intimidating at all. But that might just be because I love him and I – oh… “I keep the party going all night, all night I set the trends that you all like, all like I make an entrance when I don't try, don't try Cuz all I see is all eyes on me” “You okay over there?” I ask Owen, who’s still mimicking the girls’ choreography. “I can’t help it… It’s my feet!” he replies, to which I just hum a ‘mmh-mmh’ the way Madi always does. “They’re good though!” “When I grow up I wanna be me be me I'm my own goals just talking honestly Must have won the lottery Ain't no one as hot as me Stealing looks its robbery Everywhere I go all eyes on me” I’m wishing this show is nearly over because I can feel Charlie tensing up beside me with the second. It does take my attention away from how nervous I am, though. “Char, relax,” I whisper and grab his hand, intertwining our fingers. This doesn’t only help Charlie calm down; it also helps making Jake jealous. Not that that’s why I’m doing it. “I only lead I never follow follow I never open cuz it's my show, my show Don't know if people think I'm shallow, shallow But all I see is all eyes on me”

“That’s it!” Charlie grumbles when the song’s over, and to my absolute surprise, grabs me by the face and kisses me full on the lips. I’m startled at first, but then melt into his touch and into his lips. This is the most passionate kiss I have ever shared with anyone, and I wish it wasn’t an attempt by my current boyfriend to make my ex-boyfriend jealous. It even takes me a while to get over the kiss once Charlie has pulled away. That cliché of seeing fireworks when you kiss someone you love isn’t a myth. It’s actually true. “Jesus, Charlie,” I hear Jeremy chuckle, “I think you broke Emily.” I look back at Jake, who’s now suddenly gone. I wonder if he actually saw what just happened. “Oh, look at that,” Brianna’s voice sends shivers down my spine and has me back on planet earth in no time. “Amateur hour is about to start.” Her posse stands behind her, trying to look intimidating. “Hey, Brianna, thanks for opening for us,” I tell her before pushing past her, hoping my band would follow. Which they do not. “Hey, himbos!” The three look at me, completely confused. “This is the part where you follow me to the stage.” They seemingly shake awake all of a sudden and rush after me like a huddle of puppies. The four of us get ready backstage while Ash announces us. “For the next half hour, you’ll be treated by one of the most talented bands of Los Feliz. Formerly known as Sunset Curve, I now present to you; Emily and The Foxes!” Applause and cheers erupt from the crowd, and I even hear someone whistling, though I’m sure that either Mitch or Madi. The boys get their instruments while I settle behind the keyboard. “Hi, everyone. We’re Emily and The Foxes. I wanted to dedicate this first song to my Uncle Mitchell,” I glance over at him on the front row, “I don’t want to get all emotional, so just listen to the song, okay? It says everything I haven’t been able to say.” The crowd laughs lightly, including my Uncle Mitch. I shake the nerves out of my hands and let my hands hover over the keys. “You got this,” Charlie’s voice sounds, and that’s enough for me to start playing the first notes. “Sometimes I think I'm falling down I wanna cry, I'm callin' out For one more try To feel alive And when I feel lost and alone I know that I can make it home Fight through the dark And find the spark” I glance over at the boys, who give me encouraging smiles, ready to rock in a second. “Life is a risk but I will take it Close my eyes and jump Together I think that we can make it Come on let's run and” The boys now join in, sending the crowd into a frenzy. I get out from behind the keyboard and join the boys in the middle of the stage. “Rise through the night you and I We will fight to shine together Bright forever And rise through the night you and I We will fight to shine together Bright forever” While Charlie takes the next verse, I walk up to the front of the stage where the crowd has gathered, away from their chairs. I grab my uncle’s hand and mouth the words along to him. “In times that I doubted myself I felt like I needed some help Stuck in my head With nothing left” I now turn back to the stage, joining Jeremy and Owen to rock out with them. “I feel something around me now So unclear lifting me out I found the ground I'm marching on” Jeremy rushes over to Charlie to sing the pre-chorus into the same mic, the same way they do during Now or Never. I turn my back to Owen, encouraging the crowd into cheering for the two singing boys. “Life is a risk but we will take it Close my eyes and jump Together I think that we can make it Come on let's run and” Charlie and I sing the next chorus together while Jeremy skips back to his mic, rocking out with his bass. “Rise through the night you and I We will fight to shine together Bright forever And rise through the night you and I We will fight to shine together Bright forever” I now walk over to Charlie and offer him to sing into my mic, luring him towards the middle of the stage, without ever breaking eye contact. “In times that I doubted myself I felt like I needed some help Stuck in my head With nothing left” I then turn my back towards him, but stay close, and while he rocks out on his guitar, I sing the next part of the bridge. “And when I feel lost and alone I know that I can make it home Fight through the dark, and find the spark” I hit the high note, just like I did that day in my bedroom when Charlie and I finished the song. All while the boys handle the chorus together. “And rise through the night you and I We will fight to shine together” “Shine together,” I echo “Bright forever” “Bright forever” I glance over at Uncle Mitch again which gives me the boost I need to sing the last chorus. “And rise through the night you and I We will fight to shine together Shine together Bright forever Bright forever” I hold my mic up in victory as the crowd cheers and applauds. The boys and I take a bow, soaking in the applause and cheers. This is something I could get used to. I just need to get through Music Academy and then I’ll be all-knowing about music to write even more and even better songs. In the meanwhile, I’ll just enjoy this for a while.

“That was awesome, you guys!” Madison screams excitedly when we get off stage after our set. The buzz of the crowd filing out surrounds us. “Thanks for that song, Muffin. It was perfect!” Mitch compliments, and I can tell he’s cried a bit. “The entire set was amazing. You guys did a great job!” This compliment is for the entire band. “Shall we go eat something together to celebrate?” I look up at a nervous Charlie. He knows what’s going to happen now. “I guess we could eat something,” my reply is exactly what Charlie needs. He shoots me a thankful smile, noticeably calming down a little. Our group leaves the Music Store after having said goodbye to Ash, and we make our way to the nearest Chinese restaurant. The conversation soon picks up again where it left off, talking about the show. “That high note in bright, Emily!” Jeremy says with an impressed tone. “I had the chills during Perfect Harmony!” Madison chimes in. Charlie and I exchange glances. That’s our song. Our little perfect magic thing. All ours. “And Wake Up too!” “Still thought it was missing a song though,” Uncle Mitch adds somberly. “No song is as great as The Other Side of Hollywood or Nothing Left to Lose, Uncle Mitch,” I reassure him with a smile. This group of people right here. That’s all I ever need in life. Nothing else. It’s the perfect group to fill up the hole in my heart Uncle Bobby left.

“You’re going to be okay, Char,” I tell him when we’re in front of his house and he’s taking a long time to ring the doorbell. I don’t push him, though. “Hey, look at me,” I order sweetly, cupping his face with my hands. “I’m here, okay? You got this.” I repeat the words I needed to hear at the start of the show, the words that always help me. And now, they help Charlie too. He reaches up and presses the doorbell. It takes a minute, but an older looking man opens up. His hair is graying, his face framed by thick-rimmed glasses. “Charlie,” he breathes out in relief. “Hi, dad…” Charlie stares at his feet. “Can—Can we come in?” His dad glances at me, a smile appearing on his face as he steps aside to let us inside. Charlie guides me into the living room, and for as far as I can see, every wall is filled with family photos. “Who is it?” a woman’s voice yells from the kitchen, and no second later, she appears in front of us with the most relieved look on her face I ever did see. “Charlie, baby!” She cries and reaches out to him to take him in for a hug. My heart warms at the sight of it. I can just imagine what it must be like to have a mother so concerned about their child. “I’m sorry, mom,” I hear Charlie whisper with a crack of his voice. I glance up at his father, tears pooling in my eyes and his, and we share a smile. A simple smile that acknowledges how the both of us feel. Charlie pulls away from his mother after a few moments and reaches out for my hand. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry,” Charlie’s mom sniffles as a shy smile shines through. “I’m Jean.” Charlie pulls me towards them gently as I reach out to shake Jean’s hand. “Emily,” I introduce myself with a smile. “Thank you for bringing our son back, Emily,” his father’s voice sounds from behind me, “I’m Patrick, by the way.” “Nice to meet you, Patrick,” I glance over at Charlie, “I’m pretty sure he would’ve found his way back to you guys anyway.” This makes all three Gillespies smile, and evidently, me too. “Come, child,” Jean grabs my hands, “Sit, sit!” she leads me towards the couch where she sits me down, Charlie taking a spot on my left and Jean on my right. Patrick opts for the armchair. “How did you meet our Charlie?” Jean queries, still holding onto my hands. “I work at the Music Store and Charlie just walked in one day and never stopped returning,” I leave some of the stuff out I thought on that first day I met him. “I just thought ‘Damn, my customer-service must be really good’.” Jean and Patrick laugh at this, and even Charlie can’t hide a smile. “Actually, your customer-service towards me wasn’t that great, Emmy. It was your voice that enchanted me that first day when you sang Wake Up,” says Charlie teasingly. “You’re a musician?” Patrick asks, perching up in his armchair. “I guess you could call it that. My uncle taught me to play guitar and piano, and we used to sing together at the top of our lungs. I’m now working to save up for the Music Academy, get a degree in music technology, so I actually know what I’m doing and go from there.” “She’s amazing, mom!” Charlie chimes in, “She’s even joined our band.” “Why don’t you get into this Music Academy, Charlie?” Jean asks him instead, the tension growing. “Get a degree so your future doesn’t depend on this band of yours.” “The Music Academy has just been a dream of mine and my Uncle Robert. Your son doesn’t need a degree in music. He’s born to do what he’s doing now,” I say, hoping it’ll thaw Jean’s heart a little, but I doubt it’s working. “Where I work, I meet a ton of musicians, we even have this monthly Open Mic Night where I had the privilege to hear your son play. Trust me, Jean, your son is a born Rockstar. People feel him when he plays. He gives them the serotonin they might not get in their daily life. That boy has magic in his fingers and his throat, it would be a shame if someone snuffed it out.” I glance at Charlie who offers me a tender smile. “I just don’t think music is a stable career. What if the band breaks up because they had a blowout? I love Jeremy and Owen to death, but you never know what happens.” I take a deep breath. This is where I lost my cool with my parents. I can’t do the same here because that’ll ruin everything for Charlie. I’m here to mend their relationship, not ruin it. “Is any career a stable career, really?” I let out an airy laugh. “There are so many musicians with stable careers, Jean, and I really, really think your son has what it takes to make it big out there with Jeremy and Owen. I’ve had the honor to spend time with all three of them and they’re like brothers. Always supportive of each other, always there to help. They’re the best of friends and nothing could ever break their bond, especially not the bond they have through music…” I trail off a little before taking a deep breath, “My parents kicked me out because I wanted to go to a college they didn’t approve of. That along with the passing of my uncle, I lost my connection with music a little but the guys, they brought that connection back into my life. Music is so important to all of us, especially to Charlie. Please, don’t take that away from him.” I notice a single tear escaping Jean’s eye, which is when I realize I’d started crying too. “I’m sorry you had to get through that, Emily,” Patrick chimes in, then turns to his wife, “What do you say, Jeanie? I think we should give Charlie the space to explore this Rockstar life of his.” I turn back to Jean, finding her nodding slowly. “Yeah, I think so too.” When I look at Charlie, he has the most surprised and tender look on his face as he and his mom get up and hug it out. “I really am proud of you, son.” I hear her whisper. Charlie looks at me from over his mother’s shoulder and offers me a thankful smile. At least I mended their relationship instead of ruining it like I did with my parents.

I didn’t even realize how late it was until Jean announced to us she was going to get to bed. Two am. We’ve been talking until two in the morning. After having mended the broken pieces between Charlie and his mom, we’d got entangled in a conversation about the band and life in general. These people are the nicest ever and I wish I could spend more time with them. “If you want, you can stay over tonight,” Jean tells me as she gets up. “Oh, uhm…” I glance over at Charlie, who’s just nodding his head. “Yeah, sure. Thank you.” She places a hand on my shoulder, looking me straight in the eye with the most thankful smile. “No, thank you,” she says and leaves the living room. “You’re a good egg, Emily. Welcome to the family,” Patrick tells me before heading upstairs with his wife. My heart is full. I almost feel as loved as the day of Uncle Robert’s anniversary of his passing when all the boys and Madi came over. I can’t believe my life. “If you want, you can stay in the guest room. You know, if you don’t feel comfortable sharing a bed with me,” Charlie says shyly, fidgeting with the bracelet around my wrist. “No, it’s fine,” his face lights up, “You’re the best cuddler anyway.” I lean in and press my lips to his before he grabs my hand and leads me up the stairs. In his bedroom, he hands me a shirt of his to sleep in, and then leaves to change in the bathroom, so I have some privacy in here. Once dressed – or half dressed in his shirt, I text Uncle Mitch to tell him I won’t be sleeping at home and begin looking around Charlie’s room. His walls are filled with band posters and the regular family picture scattered around. “Are you dressed?” I hear his voice from behind me, and when I turn around, I find him covering his eyes near the bedroom door. I chuckle, shaking my head amusedly, before walking up to him and taking his hands away from his face. “Oh, you are,” he breathes out and shuts the door. For a few seconds, we just stare at each other, smiling like complete fools. He then leads me towards his bed where we lie down, facing each other. “Thank you for what you said downstairs,” he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, and leaving his hand on my neck. My hand reaches up to rest on his, my thumb rubbing circles on his skin. “It really means a lot.” “Just because I lost my parents because they didn’t support my dream, doesn’t mean your parents can’t either,” I tell him and press a kiss to his nose. “And you really are a gifted musician. You made me fall in love with writing songs with someone else again.” “And you made me fall in love again,” he adds with a careful smile tugging at his lips. “That too,” I respond, which only makes his smile grow before he presses his lips to mine. Ever since meeting Charlie, my life has changed so much. After what felt like the longest and worst year of my life, I finally feel alive again. I feel loved again. Like my body’s filled up with this fire that just ignites more and more energy to live again. Charlie and our music were that spark that ignited it all.

Taglist: @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @gingerxarmy @lovesanimals @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @ashleyleblancx @calamitykaty @lolychu @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @siennanoelle01 @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @luckylouiebug Lemme know if you want to be on my taglist for this story/any of my other works!

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dancing-the-hellfire-rumba · 4 years ago

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Seen ✓ - 3

Pairing: Sam x Reader Warnings: cursing, a bit of self depreciation Word Count: 2.2k Series Summary: On her way home, Y/n finds an abandoned, cracked phone on the sidewalk. Anxious about the well-being of its owner, she picks it up and texts the first contact she finds; Sam. Beta: None

Part 1 - Part 2 Masterlist

Chapter 3: for the love of god, explain this

Sam Winchester lies awake at three in the morning, under foreign, scratchy sheets, stubbornly not tearing his eyes from the cracked, ugly wallpaper on the ceiling. A lot of things are happening and his brain is going about a million miles an hour, spinning endlessly, Castiel, Dean returning from hell, the stress of the hunting life, the current case and… Y/n. Wonderful, smart, talented, funny Y/n.

It’s been a while since someone has made him excited. He keeps bumping into her in his mind, keeps finding thoughts of her lying around, eager to distract him. He catches himself wanting to text her about every stupid thing that happens in his day, much like she sometimes does. She’s been the only thing that makes his heart a little lighter, and it’s such a strange feeling, someone’s presence being this uplifting.

He was suspicious of her at first. A strange woman (at least she claims to be one, he forgets he’s never actually… seen her) asking about him, his profession, and then about… ghosts? A bit random, too specific, Sam recognizes he got defensive. But the way she spoke afterwards… he doesn’t know. His instinct tells him to trust her.

Amidst his thoughts, he doesn’t remember picking up his phone, but it’s just one of those nights, he needs someone to talk to- or rather, wants Y/n specifically. A thought he chooses not to dwell on.

are you awake? I can’t sleep.

I actually am. Lucky you.

Sam smiles. Lucky me, he thinks.

isn’t it like 4 am for you?

Tell me about it. No luck sleeping either.

happen to you a lot?

Yeah.

I happen to have anxiety induced insomnia.

Working at a bar also helps fuck up your sleeping schedule as well.

You?

i’m sorry :/

i don’t get much sleep either. something always keeps me up.

Yeah, I get that.

Where in the Great Unites States of America are you today?

hahah it’s Oregon today.

it’s the ugliest motel room i’ve ever been in.

Ooh

Do I ask about your case or is it confidential?

it’s confidential but i’ll tell you that i am investigating a bunch of strange murders.

You’re investigating serial killers?? That’s so fucking dope.

something like that yeah.

how was your day?

Oh, you know. The usual.

College assignments, a shift at the bar. I went out with a friend I hadn’t seen in a while.

I need to clean my house desperately.

I also nearly burned my kitchen down trying to cook lunch. Emmy and I ended up eating some lazy-ass spaghetti, because pasta is the only thing I can cook, apparently.

hahahah what were you making?

You’re gonna laugh if I tell you.

well now you must.

Ugh, do I?

come onnn

It was eggs, okay? I was just trying to make eggs.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAH

I TOLD YOU YOU’D LAUGH AT ME

HOW DID YOU BURN EGGS?!

LISTEN, OKAY

I NEVER SAID I WAS A GOOD COOK

HAHAHAHAH

Sam laughs over his phone, as silently as he can, so as to not wake Dean up. He turns on his other side and realizes his cheeks hurt from smiling, and it’s a feeling he’s missed.

Yeah, yeah, laugh, culinary genius. Not all of us can be perfect.

i never said i was a culinary genius

but at least i don’t go near stoves if i don’t have to.

Well, it’s not like I can afford every-day takeout (or like that shit is healthy, even if I could) and someone has to cook for my sister while she’s in school

you have siblings?

and yeah you’re right i didn’t think like that sorry.

It’s okay.

And yeah, my sister, Emily.” Emmy”

oooh i thought emmy was your friend.

Nono, it’s my sister. She’s 17.

can i ask you a personal question?

Shoot

why do you have to take care of her? are your guys’ parents not around?

you don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable with that.

Well, it’s a bit complicated.

My parents’ marriage kind of fell apart when I was around 10. They tried to fix things by adopting a kid- Emily. For a while that worked.

When I was 16 my mom took off and dad took care of us for 2 years almost. He really dedicated himself to us.

He worked his antique shop and supported us. For two years, I didn’t see him spend a penny on himself.

But I ended up having to take care of Em when he passed. I was freshly 18, so I could take care of her as a guardian.

shit i’m so sorry.

It’s okay, honestly.

I mean, it didn’t use to be, and it was hell for a while.

But we made it.

i admire your positivity.

I try :)

i also love that you put smiley faces in your text messages.

Shouldn’t have said that, now I’ll always think about it before I do it

hahah

Sam bites his lip. What the hell is happening? They’re… flirting. Sorta. And it’s nice- better than nice. Fuck.

What about you?

you mean what’s my relationship with my parents?

Well, when you put it like that it sounds stupid. It wasn’t what I was asking either.

What I meant was, how’s your life right now. How’s the family business. You can pick which you wanna answer.

i don’t mind either honestly.

as for my parents my mom died when I was 6 months old. my dad passed away about a year and a half ago.

Jesus, I’m so sorry Sam

I don’t know what to say. It can’t have been easy. Losing a parent never is.

it wasn’t but as you said we’re trying to sort of find our footing with Dean. we’ve had our ups and downs.

Yeah I understand that.

Do you wanna talk about it?

right now not really. I mean there’s not much to say about it.

i kinda wanna forget about it. thanks though.

Alright.

So how’s the family business?

Does it feel good to be paid to be Sherlock Holmes?

crap. but we’re doing our best.

for the record i don’t get paid nearly enough for the shit i have to do.

Hahaha, hang in there.

Dean still refuses to come get his phone?

yeah. he says you can keep it.

Tell him to take care of his devices from now on, this one was battered beyond recognition.

duly noted.

The conversation continued until well after the sun rose. Sam had officially accepted this night to be sleepless, and Y/n was good company. Somehow she took his mind off of everything that was bugging him, made him, if momentarily, forget about it, and he truly loved that about her. The back and forth tended to flow easily between them, and he couldn’t get enough of the chemistry he had with this practical stranger.

Sleepless or not, this night was a good one, after she entered the picture.

The glow on her skin is blue-ish and soft, combatting the one from the fairy lights above them. Laptop absolutely not low in volume, couch dipping under two bodies, slumped together, legs leaning against one another, soft flannel pants and droopy eyes. Emily’s hair is out of its usual half-up hairstyle, exploding with volume and bright, firey color, flowing onto the back of the couch.

Jon Snow is yelling on the screen, and Y/n is completely ignoring him, constantly checking her inactive phone and the way the screen doesn’t light up with Sam’s name. Every time she feels disappointed, she tries to quell the relentless thoughts of the possibility of him being completely over her.

Damn it.

“Do you have a boyfriend or a girlfriend I’m not aware of or something?” Emily mutters dryly, half-hearted but gentle teasing. Y/n sputters.

“Huh?”

“’Cause you keep checking your phone, and as far as I know you don’t have any friends.”

“HEY,” deeply offended, Y/n places her hand over her heart, glaring at her sister. “Excuse you!” she exclaims, “Connor? Ashley? Lydia?”

“Yeah, a neighbor and two college students that you haven’t talked to in like, what, two weeks? What a social butterfly.”

“Okay first off,” Y/n ignores the screaming and fighting on the screen and shifts to look at her sister. “Stop tracking my socializing.” Em scoffs.

“C’mon, bear, spill.” Bottom lip pouted. She pauses the episode, turning to face her older sister. “Who are they and when can I meet them?” A devilish smile, teasing like only a younger sister can, curling the right corner of her lip.

“He’s not my boyf-“

“AHA! So there is someone! I knew it!”

“I’ve known him for like- what, three weeks? Nothing is going on! I barely know the guy!” Y/n fiddles with her hair and huffs, holding back a smile.

“Where’d you meet him? Is he hot? What’s he like?!” Poking her sister’s thigh continuously, she grins wide, excited. “C’mon, you’re like, no fun.”

“The thing is… I didn’t. Meet him, I mean.” Eyebrows furrow.

“Uh…” Emily purses her lips. “I’m … not following.”

It takes all of five minutes for Y/n to explain to her sister all about her crazy adventure, the lost phone, the brother, Sam. The girls munch on leftover garlic spaghetti, talking about the stranger on the other side of Y/n’s screen.

“He’s just… different? I don’t know- I just, I’m intrigued I guess. He’s mysterious and hilarious. The type of guy we’d hang out with. Why pass it up?”

“Just hang out?” Emily wiggles her eyebrows. Y/n shoves her.

“It’s really not like that.”

“I don’t know, Y/n, he doesn’t necessarily sound just friendly to me.” Y/n won’t lie and say she hasn’t thought about it. She’s a romantic after all, and what a wonderful, movie-like love story would it be for them to fall in love and march into the sunset?

But she recognizes this is the romantic side of her picking up speed on a subject that definitely isn’t for her to decide alone. There’s a second participant in all of this, and he needs to do more than half the work by liking her. She knows it’s no easy feat. A bitter dab of paint dissolves in her chest, because why would he like her? She’s nothing quite special. She’s just a bartender, a college student, a boring, normal girl, painfully mundane, painfully boring. He’s brilliant, kind and sweet, a private investigator, he travels all the time, he’s the most interesting guy she’s ever met for crying out loud. Why would he ever give her a chance?

“I doubt it, Em,” is what Y/n decides to say, because there’s no way she can explain exactly what she’s thinking.

“No, no, you’re doing that thing again.” A hum in question falls from the older Andrews’ lips. “The thing where you put yourself down for bullshit reasons. He’d be lucky to have you.” Y/n wants to roll her eyes. “Hey,” a snap of Emily’s fingers in front of Y/n’s face to catch her attention. “I will literally slap you. You’re smart, funny, kind. He’d be fucking lucky to have you, and if you don’t believe it, I’m gonna beat some sense into you. Stop putting my sister down.” Y/n doesn’t have anything good to say to that, so instead she lets out a huffed breath of a laugh and sits back on the couch.

“Now,” Emily leans over her own crossed legs and grabs her phone from the rickety coffee table. “Did you Google him?”

“Why the heck would I Google him?”

“It’s the 21st century, Y/n, gosh. Are you at all familiar with internet stalking?” Y/n watched pebbled coffee brown eyes get illuminated by the phone screen, freckles nowhere near as bright as they can be, because she hasn’t gone out into the sunlight today. Emily is gorgeous. Y/n is sometimes jealous, but also genuinely admires her younger sister. “What’s his name?”

“Sam Winchester.”

There’s typing, and then silence.

“Y/n…” And the warning tone on the younger one’s voice completely throws her off.

“What? What is it?” A phone screen is thrust in her face.

Mail fraud, credit card fraud, grave desecration, armed robbery, kidnapping, three counts of first-degree murder, and breaking and entering, she reads. Winchester brothers Sam and Dean, disappeared, considered dead.

“What the fuck,” she mutters under her breath, completely horrified at the chance that this is real and the universe isn’t playing some comic joke on her, creating another pair of Winchester brothers called Sam and Dean who, instead of chasing murderers, are the murderers.

She scrolls lower and sure enough, there they are. Mug shots, but more specifically, the guy from the dating app, smouldering cheekily into the camera –a real blue steel-, holding a police station name on a black plaque, sitting at close to six feet and two. Then the younger one, less joyful and sassy, more serious and puppy-eyed. Sam. Close to what was described to her, it’s all there. Pointy nose, sharp jawline, curly brown hair with a growing, swoopy fringe, pulled behind his ears. It’s him. There’s no way, the coincidences are too many.

“Bear…” Emily stares at Y/n’s shocked face, gaze empty and out of it. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

Immediately, Y/n grabs her phone.

Sam

His reply is instantaneous.

hey y/n

i was just thinking about you

what’s up?

Please for the love of God.

Explain this.

She sends him the mugshot, photographed from the screen of her sister’s phone.

shit.

Part 4

A/N: Tell me what you thought? How the hell does he even explain this?

I realized I haven’t been tagging my forever taglist like a MORON, so just, sorry, I’ll start now.

Forevers: @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @deanssweetheart23 @nostalgic-uncertainty @mogaruke @superseejay721517 @lady-hawkguy @thosefeelsarereal @superwholockmarauder @justiceiswater @petra-arkanian-1497 @heyitscam99 @danijimenezv @aj-reuth @unicornblood4ever @mystriee @sadist-fangirl23 @asguardiansoftheavengers @superrandomnatural @altosaxplayer098 @winter-moons @hunterswearingplaid @novaddictx @choosemyname @live-like-a-girl @thisismysecrethappyplace @bowtomytenderaddiction @elara98azalea @lemondropirwin @emmagolden4118 @glitchcypher @calaofnoldor @paradoxical-sleep @narynechan @canwenotdothis @suicidepanda07

Sam Taglist

@kymberlytorres @theboykingsamwinchester @depressed-moose-78 @andi-mendes-barnes @captainmarvelcorps @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @nellachain

Seen Taglist @shutupiminlooove @sammysgirl1997 @kymberlytorres @bambi95-blog @demonic-meatball @thekarliwinchester @littlekay15 @li-m-ii @thinspo-isuppose @carryonmywaywarddemigodwitch @ellen-reincarnated1967 @moonlitskinwalker @marichromatic @illuminatus42 @lazy-author @mirandaaustin93 @hauntedsiriel @pilaxia @devilgirlsarah @nobodys-baby-now @captiveties @calamitychaos @midiocris @wordswillscream @burningforsam @aiofheavenandhell

#sam x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn #sam x reader fluff #sam fluff #sam x reader angst #sam angst #spn fluff #spn angst #sam winchester fluff #seen #seen 3

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erin-bo-berin · 5 years ago

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Faith (Part 2)

If you haven’t read part 1, called Hope, you can read it here

The final part to Hope is here! This is insanely long, the longest I’ve written yet. Not gonna lie I’m really glad I split it into two parts because all together it would’ve been nearly 13k words. Anyway, in this part you’re gonna get some Spencer POV, daddy Spencer (I might have gotten carried away with the cuteness, I apologize in advance) and some smut. Also I might’ve gotten carried away with that part as well, you’ve been warned. Quick fun fact: The Lonesome Bunny was an actual story I wrote in 5th grade that won in a competition. You’ll see that I’m referring to later on in the fic. Enjoy!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Word Count: 8,407

Rated: M (Smut)

So much can happen in a week.

Emily had gotten Spencer a great lawyer; one who happened to be a friend of hers. She reassured you that he was in good hands. Even that reassurance did nothing for the constant state of anxiety that twisted your stomach.

The next step was going to be his hearing. Rossi was already ready to post his bail and get him out of jail while he waited for his trial. The whole team had a moment to breathe, thinking that this next step would be a break in luck.

None of them saw what was coming. You, most of all.

After the shocking result of Spencer’s bail being denied, everyone had to face the fact that he was going to be sitting in a prison cell while awaiting trial. Emily and the rest of the team promised to work their hardest to get him out of there. You believed them, of course you did. But no one prepared you for how it would affect not only you, but your daughter as well.

“Daddy bye bye?”

You ran a hand over her hair, trying to smooth the loose curls before kissing her head.

“Daddy will be back soon.”

You weren’t sure if you were saying the words to comfort Abbie or yourself. Her wails and cries still rang in your ears, the haunting sound breaking your heart a little more each time you remembered them. She was too young to understand what was going on, but it was clear she knew something was wrong. You knew she could sense your stress, your despair.

She laid her head on your shoulder, eyes growing heavy. JJ had just gotten back from taking the boys and Abbie to see Diana. You passed on this initial trip, afraid your emotional state might upset her since she hadn’t any idea what had happened. Even though Diana didn’t understand what was going on in her own ways, you were glad the kids were able to lift her spirits.

Abbie whimpered, fighting sleep, rubbing her fists into her eyes.

“Hey, why don’t I take her and give you a little break?” Penelope said, reaching out to take her.

“Besides I always love some auntie Penelope time,” she grins, rubbing your shoulder, concern showing on her face. “We’re going to get him out of there okay?”

You nod, giving a small smile. She’d given you a visiting schedule she’d made, listing the order of her, you and the team could visit him. You were up second after her because since she’d made the chart, she got to go first—her words. It gave you a small comfort to know you’d be able to see him soon.

•

“What do you mean I’m not on the approved visitor list?!” you exclaimed.

“Spencer made his list of visitors…” Emily trailed off, “And you weren’t on it.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” she said, clearly feeling as helpless as you currently felt.

“So what does he want me to do? Sit at home, take care of Abbie and twiddle my thumbs?!”

You knew this entire situation was crazy. Spencer was going through a lot, the team was going through a lot, but yet your anger came. The only reason it came was to mask the hurt you felt. It was like a punch to the gut when you realized he didn’t even want to see you. With no reason or explanation why. You could get past the personal hurt even if he just wanted you to visit to talk about Abbie. After all, you were only his co-parent.

“I wish I knew what to tell you, Y/N. I can’t begin to imagine what’s going through his head right now.”

“I know, I know.” You rubbed your temples, the beginnings of a headache starting to pound behind your eyes.

“I just wish I could do something. At least you guys are able to work on his case to help and free him. I can’t even do that.”

You swallow, tears once again blurring your vision. You’d tried so hard not to cry in front of Abbie but now it was beginning to catch up to you.

“You’re doing something very important, Y/N.” Emily wrapped her arms around you and hugged you tight.

“Yeah? What’s that?” you mumbled into her shoulder.

She pulls away from you, holding you at arms length with her hands on your shoulders.

“Taking care of that little girl.” She points in the direction of her office window. You look out into the bullpen and Henry sitting at his mom’s desk with Abbie in his lap, both of them coloring.

“You’re taking the absolute best care of her until we can get Spencer out. I know it puts him at ease to know she isn’t alone.”

“How is he?” you asked, knowing she’d been to see him recently.

“Alright for now, he’s gotten some sleep. He was mainly concerned about Abbie and his mom. He didn’t say it, but I could tell her reaction just about broke him.”

“JJ said she cried herself to sleep,” you sighed, wanting nothing more than to scoop your baby up and hold her, to protect her.

“How’s she doing now?”

“Okay, I suppose. She’s been really fussy and clingy ever since it happened, I’m surprised she’s gone to anyone here so well. At home, she won’t even let me out of her sight. She keeps asking about daddy, too.”

“She’s a tough girl. She gets that after both of you.”

“I wish I felt as strong as you think I am.”

“MA MA!” You heard an excited shriek, all the way from the office.

“Yeah, she’s definitely Reid’s kid,” Emily commented.

You shake your head, exasperated, walking out of the office to head down to the bullpen.

“What baby?” you called, descending down the steps.

She’d gotten down from Henry’s lap and was toddling in your direction, a piece of paper in one hand, a crayon gripped in her other.

“Ook!” She held out the paper in your direction and you took it, picking her up in the process.

“It’s beautiful, baby girl,” you smile, looking at the scribbles on the page.

“We’re making pictures for Uncle Spencer,” Henry said, looking up from his own picture.

“I told the kids that they could draw pictures and I’d take them to show him when I go to visit him,” JJ said, “I remember you said that she loves to color and I thought I could take hers as well.”

You smiled, “He’ll like that.”

Looking around at all the lengths his team was going to, to help him made you realize just how much of a family the group was. You could feel their love for him, their determination to work their asses off to free him.

Suddenly, it felt like things might actually turn out okay.

•

38 days.

He’d been keeping track of the days with notches in the wall.

He’d been in prison for 38 days.

In that time Spencer had been jumped by a group of prisoners wanting to attack him since he was fresh meat. He was moved to a private cell. There he encountered even more problems. He was pressured to help move drugs within the prison which he time and time again refused to do. He befriended another prisoner in hopes of keeping him from being attacked only that effort resulted in him being beaten up instead.

The days were long and stretched out. He could feel his sanity slipping a bit more every day. Prison really was a place of desperation. The unthinkable happened inside these four walls.

He missed the team so much. He missed his mom. He missed his little girl. He missed Y/N.

The last time Emily had been to visit him she’d told him only what he expected; Y/N was bewildered, hurt and angry at his decision. He hadn’t said much on the topic. He did what he had to do.

Today’s visitor was JJ. He hadn’t seen her for a few weeks. Apparently there was a whole schedule for visiting him. He was so happy to finally see a familiar face again. It had seemed like weeks since he’d seen any of his friends when in reality—by his makeshift calendar—it had only been 6 days.

“Hey, how are you?” JJ asked, concern brightening her eyes.

“Okay, I guess. Just trying to survive here,” Spencer said.

Her brows furrowed and he knew what was coming next.

“You’re hurt. What happened?”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine. Why aren’t you working on a case?”

“Actually I stayed behind so I could visit you,” she answered.

“You shouldn’t have. You should’ve gone.”

“No. I should be here. You’re not alone in this Spence.”

He nodded, watching her through the glass that separated the two of them as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a few papers.

“Henry drew this for you. See that’s you and that’s him. It’s from that day we went to the park.”

“Tell him it’s beautiful,” he could hear his own voice cracking, “Tell him I love it.”

JJ smiled, folding it again.

“I will.”

She opened another picture, showing scribbles, a heart and what appeared to be stick figures.

“Michael drew this one. He said he thought you needed lots of love while you were away on vacation and that he misses you.”

That brought a slight smile to his face. His youngest godson had quite the imagination and at only 3 had thought up that Spencer was away on vacation. His heart ached with how much he missed them. He watched JJ once again reach for another piece of paper.

“Another drawing?” He laughed dryly.

“I thought you might like to see this one too,” she said softly, “Abbie did this one for you.”

There was nothing but colorful scribbles on the page, the complete normal for an 18-month-old. But this was different because it was made by HIS 18-month-old. His little girl.

Of course he believed in his team that they’d get him out of here and catch Mr. Scratch—the asshole that put him here—but it was truly his baby girl that helped him go on. Abbie gave him faith. He had to have faith that he would get out of here and not give up. If he gave up, she might grow up without a father and he knew from firsthand experience that was the last thing he wanted for his child.

“She’s very artistic.” He tried to laugh, but it came out more of a dry, raspy sound.

“That she is,” JJ smiled.

“How is she?” Spencer whispered.

“Abbie? Or Y/N.”

“You know I mean Abbie.”

“Spence...why don’t you just reconsider your decision. Please?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not? She’s worried about you. She wants to see you too.”

“Jennifer. I don’t want to talk about this.”

“But Spen-”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it okay?” he snapped.

Her words died mid-sentence and she went quiet.

“I’m sorry JJ,” he ran his hands through his hair, then rubbed his eyes, “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Have you been sleeping?” JJ’s concerned tone reappeared again.

“Not much.”

“I’m worried about you. We all are. I know this hasn’t been easy on you at all.”

“I can’t even explain it fully, JJ. There’s a sort of helplessness in here that causes people to do things they normally wouldn’t do.”

She seemed to be a loss of words. He didn’t say it to scare her or cause her worry, it was just the truth.

The alarm sounded, signaling that visitation time was up.

“Spencer.”

He looked back at her as he stood to leave.

“Please be careful okay? Keep your head down, don’t attract any unwanted attention.”

He nodded in response.

The hand of a security guard grabbed his arm, escorting him back to his cell. Every step took him back towards his own personal hell and away from the life he once so naively took advantage of.

•

Things didn't turn out okay. Bad news suddenly became the soup du jour.

Every time Emily or JJ, Rossi or Garcia gave you an update your outlook just became bleaker and bleaker. It was affecting everything in your life.

You’d cut the number of the interior jobs you normally did in half, not having the motivation nor the time to complete them. Soon you ended up taking a leave of absence. Fortunately, with the past financial aid of Spencer, you could afford to leave work. Your mood was affecting Abbie more and more, her often crying and wanting her daddy. Most days you felt like crying along with her.

You hated being in the dark. Technically you did get updates about what was happening, but you hadn’t seen him in 3 months. That night at the BAU when he was brought home had been the last time you’d been in his presence. Your anger at him for refusing to see you had faded leaving you feeling drained. You could only imagine how the team felt when they were the one trying their hardest to find Mr. Scratch.

In the last month, Spencer had witnessed his friend die, potentially poisoned and killed some drug dealers—you didn’t ask for specifics on that one—been beaten up pretty badly and stabbed himself to get into protective custody. You had no idea how the hell he’d survived all of this, but he had.

Many of your days were spent at the BAU now. When the group wasn’t off working on other cases they were required to give their attention to, you were at Quantico. How different it was spending so much time in the unit in comparison to 3 years ago. Then, you couldn’t stay long enough. Now, all you wanted was to be anywhere else.

You were seated on the couch in Emily’s office, attempting to keep Abbie preoccupied with a few toys. That was about all you could do now was to keep her attention elsewhere before she became irreconcilable once again.

You were making her favorite bunny plushie kiss her repeatedly causing her to giggle when the door busted open and in ran Penelope.

“Y/N, Y/N! We got him!”

You were so startled by the sudden entrance that you didn’t understand what she was talking about.

“Who?”

“Mr. Scratch. He’s been caught and he confessed to everything. Framing Reid and all of it. Me and JJ are heading to the prison to get him. You’re coming with. Not a question, an order.”

You nod, dazed at the amount of information slung at you and picked up Abbie and her bunny, following behind the tech as fast as you could.

Twenty minutes later, you were waiting outside the prison with Garcia while JJ went to take care of all the legal proceedings that came with freeing Spencer.

You were just picking up Abbie’s bunny that she had purposely dropped on the ground when Garcia spoke.

“Hey, Abbie.”

She turned towards Garcia’s voice.

“Look over there sweet girl. Look who it is,” she pointed ahead.

Abbie looked over just in time to see JJ and Spencer coming out of the front doors. The moment she saw him, she was in action, trying to squirm out of your arms.

You set her down and she went running as fast as her little legs could in his direction, her bunny still in her hand.

“DADDY, DADDY, DADDY!” She shrieked as she ran.

He scooped her up in one swift movement, hugging her close.

“I’ve missed my Abbie-bear.”

He tapped her nose making her scrunch it in response.

“How’s my baby girl?” he asked, pushing her hair back from her forehead and kissing her head.

She babbled in response, holding out her bunny to him, clearly happy to be in his arms again. He kissed the bunny’s nose, then Abbie’s. He did it again only this time playfully attacked her with kisses, making her squeal and giggle.

“Hey, you.” Penelope had gone over to hug him tight while you and JJ stood back.

“You know I always knew he would be a great father, but seeing it in action is even more heartwarming. He’s so great with her,” she said.

“He is,” you agreed.

“He cares about her a lot you know. But not only her.”

JJ gave you a sidelong glance before going to join them, leaving you to puzzle out what her cryptic comment could mean.

•

The aftermath was hectic when you returned to the Bureau. With everyone hugging Spencer and talking to him about the details of Scratch’s capture, you naturally just fell towards the back of the flurry of activity. You noticed the entire time he didn’t let go of Abbie even though she was now sound asleep on his shoulder, her bunny positioned underneath one of her arms and his chest.

You thought you’d heard Rossi say he was going to get some champagne when Spencer finally approached you. Things had never been awkward for the two of you, but they sure felt it now.

“Hey.”

He leaned against the desktop next to where you sat.

“Hey.”

“She’s out cold,” he motioned to Abbie with his head.

“I noticed. She missed her nap today and has been fighting sleep.”

“Poor thing.” He rubbed her back and she stirred slightly, repositioning herself before going back to sleep.

“So, I was actually wondering,” he began, “Would it be okay if I spent some time with her? I’ve just missed her so much. I feel like she’s gotten so big since I last saw her.”

“Sure. That’s fine. I can get you her diaper bag and some things if you want to keep her for the weekend.”

“Actually I meant like the three of us together. If you want to come to my place or...I just mean I feel like we have some things we need to talk about.”

“Well most of her things are at my place,” you said, purposely ignoring the last part of his comment, “So I guess that would be easier and you can spend as much time as you want with her. You know you’re always welcome to.”

“I’m not sure when or if I’ll be able to come back,” he said quietly, “A lot has happened.”

“Yeah. A lot has.”

You could feel the weight of the last months weighing heavily not just on him, but on you two. Things had worked so smoothly between you both up until this point that you couldn’t help but wonder if this would be too much strain. Some things you just can’t come back from.

Emily noticed the last time she’d visited, just how much prison had changed him. He was suffering from bad PTSS—post-traumatic stress syndrome. He was having nightmares, not sleeping, constantly battling the demons of what he’d had to face in those short months. Emily never said as much, but you knew how close he’d come to death by the hands of the inmates.

Everyone was mentally and emotionally exhausted. They’d all been granted six weeks off work to rest, Spencer especially. He’d have to see a therapist as well and retest before he could even be considered for reinstatement.

“Emily thought it would be best if I wasn’t alone for now.”

“That’d be wise,” you agreed.

“She suggested I stay with you…” he trailed off nervously.

You were caught off guard and found yourself staring at him, most likely resembling a deer in headlights.

“I mean she just thought being around Abbie would help me a lot and you...”

You had no idea what he was going to say and unfortunately, he didn’t finish his sentence. You couldn’t possibly turn him away at a time like this, even if you desperately didn’t want to have to deal with your complicated feelings about him.

“Uh yeah. That’s fine. She’ll love having you around more.”

The two of you had never shared a living space for more than one night. There was no telling what the next six weeks would bring.

•

The first month was rough. Not only for him but for you as well.

Spencer would often wake in the middle of the night screaming from nightmares, resulting in waking Abbie. He felt so bad about it he’d often force you to go back to bed and sit up with Abbie until she fell asleep again.

One night, you’d been on the way back from the bathroom when you heard the soft rise and fall of his voice. Peeking into the nursery, you saw Spencer in the rocking chair with Abbie in his lap, a book opened in front of them.

When he turned the page, you caught a glimpse of the cover: The Lonesome Bunny, one of Abbie’s favorite books.

“The little bunny was so sad before,” Spencer frowned, pointing to a picture on the page.

Abbie cooed in response, looking up at him as he read.

“But now he was happy, knowing he was loved by all his friends. The end.”

Spencer closed the book and Abbie immediately reached forward and opened it again.

“No.”

“You want me to read it again?” Spencer asked, chuckling when she nodded.

“Princess, I’ve read it to you twice already.”

“No.” Her hands tried to turn the pages back to the beginning.

“Oh, alright. Once more and then it’s time to go back to sleep okay?” He kissed her cheek then turned back to the first page.

“There once was a little bunny, a lonesome little bunny.”

You smiled at the memory, staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom as you lay in bed, procrastinating getting up to start your day. It was a luxury you weren’t used to. Having Spencer around had been great because the help with Abbie was nice. He seemed to be getting better too. He still suffered from his demons and the nightmares still happened but not nightly like they once did.

It now had been 5 months since he was released. Things were seeming to finally get better. Spencer was reinstated—with a rule that every 100 days he worked in the field, he had to take 30 days off. He was initially disappointed at the decision, feeling like it wasn’t a full reinstatement. Emily reassured him it was for him to recharge mentally and physically and most importantly to spend time with his family. Now, he’d taken it in stride and loved the extra daddy-daughter time; Abbie was happy as she could be. The only thing that hadn’t changed in the least bit was the tension in your relationship with Spencer.

You got along alright, you just never talked about what had happened. Prison or his downright objection to seeing you was never spoken of. Of cours,e you were there to help him through his trauma, but you avoided any and every conversation having to do with the two of you. If it had to do with Abbie or any other subject, you could talk to him for hours. You just didn’t have the energy to unravel your feelings, nor get his no relationship wanted reply.

Yesterday was the beginning of his first 30 day stint of time off. Spencer being Spencer, he treated you and Abbie to a day at the zoo, anxious to teach her all about the animals.

“Just wait until she’s old enough to really understand and retain what she’s learning. She’s going to have a vast knowledge of things just because of you,” you’d said, smiling while he helped Abbie feed a giraffe.

He turned towards you, squinting against the sun and smiled big.

“I want only the best for my little girl,” he had responded.

His smile was as bright as the sun, his eyes glinting from the happiness he obviously felt. A light breeze floated through the air, rustling the waves and curls of his hair ever so slightly. Your heart fluttered and it was at that moment you knew you could no longer deny the fact that you were in love with him.

Emily had been telling you the same thing for months, telling you that you had to admit it sooner or later because the moment of truth would hit you eventually. The moment of truth had finally come.

You were in love with the Halloween loving, chopstick hating, kickass profiler, amazing father, 187 IQ’d pretty boy that was Spencer Reid; and you were finally ready to tell him.

•

You glanced at the clock and were surprised to see it was already 9:30. You hadn’t stayed in bed that long since before Abbie had been born.

Noises from the kitchen pulled you out of your bed. You padded down the hallway, smiling when you heard Abbie’s babbling.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

You walk into the kitchen and see Spencer at the stove, Abbie’s high chair pulled up to the cabinet near him.

“Wel,l Abbie-bear here wanted to help daddy fix breakfast. Isn’t that right sweetheart?”

You look over and see your child sitting in her high chair with chocolate smeared all over her face and hands, grinning big.

“Technically she was supposed to be adding the chocolate chips to the pancake batter, but she decided to eat the handful instead,” he chuckled.

“It’s the thought that counts right?” you laughed, grabbing a baby wipe from the pack on the counter.

You clean her face and hands as best as you can with her trying to squirm away from the wet cloth.

“You’re silly aren’t you?” you smile, handing her a fresh cup of juice.

“No,” she giggled in response.

“You didn’t have to make breakfast Spencer.”

He shrugged.

“I wanted to. I figure since I kinda live here at the moment I can at least help you out.”

He added another finished pancake to the growing plate of pancakes then poured the last remaining pancake batter to make a tiny one.

“This one is especially for you Abbie because it’s just your size, see?”

He stepped aside, letting her see the small pancake on the griddle. She smiled around the spout of her sippy cup as she drank her apple juice.

“Thank you for making breakfast.”

You stood on your tiptoes and quickly kissed his cheek, a simple act of gratitude. At least you hoped that’s what it conveyed. You’d turned to grab a mug for some coffee and when you faced him again you saw he was staring at you.

“What?” you asked, suddenly self-conscious that you were in ratty old pajamas and your hair probably standing up in numerous directions.

The spell seemed to be broken when you spoke. He scrunched his nose in the cute little way he always did, turning back to the stove.

“Nothing, nothing.”

Ten minutes later the three of you were at the table pigging out on pancakes. You tore Abbie’s pancake into smaller pieces and she was currently grabbing them with both hands, managing to get more on her than actually in her.

“Did you always want kids?” Spencer asked, watching you hand her a small piece of your bacon.

“That’s a random question,” you chuckled, picking up your fork again.

He shrugged a shoulder.

“Just curious.”

“Yeah, I always knew I wanted kids one day,” you answered.

“But not at 24, right?”

You winced, thinking of how in shock you were when you found out you were pregnant. You were 23 almost 24 when you’d initially met Spencer. He’d been 34 even though he easily passed for your age. You really understood what it meant that age didn’t matter. He was nearly 11 years older than you, but a majority of the time you didn’t even remember.

“I mean I don’t blame you. When I was 24, I was only in my second year of working at the BAU. Kids were absolutely the last thing on my mind,” he said.

“It’s not that. I was just scared knowing that from that point on I was responsible for this tiny, fragile little human that would depend on me for the rest of my life. It was even scarier to think just how much she needed me, even during pregnancy. But I wouldn’t change having her for anything. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“She definitely is amazing, isn’t she?”

Abbie reached out towards him, a piece of pancake in her fingers.

“Daddy.”

He leaned towards her and took the bite in his mouth in which she smiled happily.

“Thank you baby girl.”

She started fussing, reaching for him, wanting out of her high chair.

“What about you? Did you never want kids or something?”

He lifted the tray off and unfastened her from the chair, taking her in his lap.

“I didn’t say that,” he said matter of factly, but not in a mean tone, “I just said at 24 I wasn’t thinking about kids.”

“Okay, so what changed your mind then?” You took another bite of pancake and chewed, waiting for his answer.

“I don’t know. It was different things. Encountering kids at work, being the godfather to Michael and Henry. I always loved kids. I just didn’t think it was going to happen for me because work kept me so busy. Then one day I realized I’m 36 and I don’t know if I’ll ever have kids. Then this little munchkin came about unexpectedly,” he said, tickling her tummy.

“I never knew if it would be a reality for me, but I’ve imagined having a big family before. Big house, lots of kids and toys everywhere, it just seemed nice and completely different from my childhood. I mean it was just me and my parents. Then my dad left and it was my mom and me. I just figured maybe having a big family of my own would fill that loneliness I felt as a kid, you know?”

“That’s sweet,” you smiled, “I understand what you’re saying. Who knows though? Maybe you still will. How many kids are there in your imagined future?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe 5 or 6.”

You almost choked on your coffee.

“You poor future wife,” you sputtered.

“I don’t know, I have a feeling she’ll be the type to be cut out for half a dozen kids.”

There’s a small smile on his lips as he feeds another piece to an open-mouthed Abbie. He doesn’t look up to catch your questioning look though.

“These pancakes are amazing by the way.”

You’d just finished up your third and Abbie was still shoveling hers in.

“I think she agrees.”

“Well thank you,” he grinned.

Spencer hands Abbie to you and you take her, cleaning her face.

“What’s on today’s agenda?” you ask, pulling her hands away from the coffee mug she was trying to grab.

“Actually, JJ is taking Abbie today.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, the boys have missed her and have been begging to see her again. I also think it’s time to finally talk about what we’ve been tiptoeing around for months, Y/N.”

You felt yourself stiffen. Sure, you may have just decided the day before that you wanted to finally confess your feelings to him, but you didn’t want to have to deal with all the other things. Unfortunately for you, it went hand in hand and you knew he was right.

“Y/N, please. I know you’re still upset about things that happened when I was in prison. But you do know we need to talk about them eventually.”

“I know,” you whispered; the buried feelings from those horrible months coming to the surface again.

“Let’s go get her dressed. JJ should be here by 10.”

Spencer took her from you, setting her down on her feet.

“How about a race, pumpkin? I’ll race you to your room.”

Abbie shrieked, taking off on her little legs, Spencer behind her, pretending to be way behind.

“She’s off to a wonderful start, look at that form as she runs!” Spencer’s voice came from the hall as if he were narrating an actual race, “Oh no, she’s beating me! She’s rounding the corner! She’s at the last stretch of the mile! IT’S OFFICIAL! Abrielle Jade Reid is the winner!”

You hear squealing and her giggles ascend in what you assume is caused by Spencer picking her up.

You stare at the place where he was sitting minutes before, remembering something Emily had told you days earlier.

“Abbie may be almost 2, but she has faith in you and Spencer every single day. She may not know what it is, but as her parents, she quite literally trusts you with her life. So why can’t you have that kind of faith in Spencer?”

•

An hour later it’s just you and Spencer left in the house. You weren’t proud to say that you had hidden out in your bedroom while he was assisting JJ with Abbie’s car seat outside, your attempt at prolonging the start of the conversation.

You heard the front door close and his footsteps getting closer to your room. You sat your phone aside when he walked in and sat up against the pillows.

“I’m gonna talk and you’re gonna listen. Okay?”

It wasn’t often that you heard Spencer sound so stern, the steely tone of his voice unfamiliar. But you currently felt like a student in the principal’s office about to face punishment. He didn’t wait for you to answer before he continued.

“I’m going to tell you about what happened to me in prison.” His voice was gentler now, but you saw by his face that he was serious.

“Spencer-”

His hard look silenced you.

“I want to do this. I can’t tell you why I chose not to see you until I tell you this.”

So he told you.

And you listened.

He told you about the fear he constantly lived with of being discovered as a fed, while in prison. He told you how he tried to help another inmate that was being targeted which only ended up in himself being beaten up and later, the same friend being murdered in front of him. How an inmate he mistook as a friend was actually the most dangerous prisoner there; he controlled everything and everyone and tried his hardest to control Spencer too. How his mind seemed to adapt to the line of thinking of the others. It was either do what you have to do or get killed. He explained that he did something terrible, something that he would’ve never imagined he’d ever do but was forced to do it to spare his own life. He confessed how much it scared him, that prison had turned him into a monster. He told you how painful it was reliving the events as he worked to heal in therapy. He indeed told you everything.

It hurt like hell hearing every detail, each of his words etched with pain and bad memories. He didn’t continue for a few quiet minutes after he finished recounting everything. His eyes were closed, as if trying to erase the pain of the old wounds freshly opened. You reached out towards him, putting your hand on top of his. When he opened his eyes, he looked down at your hand over his.

Without a word, he turned his hand in yours until your fingers laced through his perfectly.

“The team is used to seeing things like this. Even though it was me in there, one of their own, they knew to expect the worst. They see bad things every day. But I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t let you see me like that. It would have completely broken you.”

He paused, swallowing hard before continuing.

“My job is to see horrible things and look how prison impacted me. How do you think I’d feel knowing I was responsible for putting you through so much pain? It was never about not wanting to see you. It was about protecting you, about keeping you oblivious to the true horrors of what it’s like in there. I was so afraid you wouldn’t be able to handle it. All I wanted to do was protect you and Abbie.”

You didn’t know exactly when you’d began crying, but now you felt the tears streaming quickly down your face. Months of pent up emotions came pouring out of you all at once.

“All I wanted to do was to see you! I wasn’t able to do anything to help you and then I’m told I couldn’t even see you? I had never felt so helpless.”

“Please don’t cry.”

He moved to where he could sit closer to you, concern etching his features. Pulling his hand out of yours, he put a hand on your face, wiping your tears.

“It wasn’t my intention to hurt you. Please believe me.”

“I know. I believe you.”

Your faces were mere inches apart by now and his eyes searched your face, repeatedly glancing down at your lips. All it would take was a hair of movement and your lips would be connected. You felt the tempting pull, wanting to kiss him badly, yet you stayed still, the moment seeming to stretch on.

“We can’t,” you whispered.

He was so close, you felt the breath of his words against your lips.

“Why not?”

He made the final move and kissed you. You didn’t fight it anymore. It was like having a drink of water after suffering from an agonizing thirst. His lips felt familiar, they were familiar but it’d been an awfully long time since you felt them against yours.

Your lips moved with his, parting every few kisses before reconnecting them to his. It was slow, sensual and full of love. All of your love for him was poured into the kiss, but you knew that was just your take on it. For you, this right now felt like coming home.

He inched you backwards until you were pressed up against your pillows once again with him hovering over you, his mouth not leaving yours once.

“I swear I didn’t intend to start something like this,” he murmured against your lips, between kisses.

“Not,” you paused as he kissed you again, “Complaining.”

Your hands moved over his chest and up his shoulders until your arms were wrapped around his neck. He was intoxicating and you were taking in as much of him as you could before this ended once again.

He pushed your pillows off the bed towards the floor, laying you flat against the bed. Though every time you’d been together hadn’t been fast and rough, you’d never taken it this slow with him before. The slow, intense kiss came to a standstill when he gently raked his teeth over your bottom lip before pulling away from you.

With his hands on your hips, he pushed them upwards, taking the bottom of your shirt up as well.

“Wait,” you grabbed his wrist, looking up at him.

“A-Are you sure you want to?” you asked hesitantly, not entirely confident his head was in the right place for something like this.

“I’m fine, Y/N. I’m positive.”

You raised your arms as he pulled the shirt over your head.

“Besides,” he paused to unbutton his shirt, “I want to take my time with you.”

You bit your lip, his words sending a warm flush all throughout your body. You helped him remove his shirt and pants at the same time because suddenly all you wanted was to feel his body against yours. After a lackadaisical kiss he began his descent downwards.

His lips moved down your chest with soft kisses, a trail of them placed just above the cups of your bra. He reached behind you to unfasten it, slowly pulling each strap down your shoulder, his mouth following closely behind his hands.

He kissed each shoulder, your collar bones and breasts, his tongue softly flicking over both nipples in turn. You gasped, feeling goosebumps prickle your arms. His sloth like pace was both thrilling and agonizing at the same time.

More followed down your belly, his fingers gently brushing the few stubborn stretch marks pregnancy had left behind. He paused briefly at your hip, sucking on it then running his tongue over the small bruise he’d created there.

“Mmm,” you hummed as he pushed your legs apart gently, clearly anticipating his next move.

Surprising you, he didn’t do what you thought he would. His lips brushed the top of your underwear, half on your skin, half on the fabric.

“Spence,” you moaned softly wanting more than what he was giving.

“I love it when you call me that,” he said, voice thick with desire.

He licked his lips, looking up at you, eyes locked on yours as he pulled the silky item off you, hands trailing down your thighs, then back up. His gaze lingered on yours a beat longer, the intensity of it taking your breath away. You were the absolute center of his attention and he was relishing every bit of you. He was known to drive you crazy, but this was on a whole new level. There was something more intimate, more sensual about this that made you feel even more vulnerable in his presence.

His kisses traveled your thighs next, moving dangerously close to the area you were wanting him most. Just when you thought his next movement would be his mouth on your core, he would move in the opposite direction, much to your dismay.

Back again he went, mouth moving in the right direction and-

“Oh my god,” you moaned, not even able to finish your previous thought.

The sly devil had distracted you just enough so that you weren’t expecting when his finger slid inside you, rubbing against you deliciously. If you thought that was mind-blowing enough, you almost lost your shit when his tongue met your clit before sucking gently.

You weren’t entirely sure if it was because it had been a long, long time since you’d had any sexual escapades or if it was just Spencer in general, but all coherent thought left your mind the longer he worked you.

Your hand grips his hair, your breath coming in rapid pants signaling your oncoming release.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck Spencer!” you half gasped, half moaned as your climax hit you, robbing you of your breath for a few seconds.

When you opened your eyes again, he was hovering over you, a small smirk on his face.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you chuckled.

He hummed, “I’m not done yet sweetheart.”

Sometime during your current shared kiss, his boxers were removed and he pushed into you. He moaned into your mouth, his tongue twirling with yours.

His tantalizing movements made you able to feel every bit of him as he moved in and out of you repeatedly. Your earlier wish was granted as now your bodies were pressed against one another, moving as one.

“Feels incr-” he groaned mid-sentence.

“Incredible,” he breathed.

You couldn’t argue that. Somehow all the other times didn’t hold a candle to right now.

Your hands gripped his biceps, giving in and begging him to pick up his pace. His hands hooked behind your thighs pulling you closer at the exact moment as a thrust of his hips causing you both to moan. His forehead fell against yours as your hips rocked to the new rhythm.

“You okay?” he whispered, watching you.

“God, yes,” you half laughed, half moaned.

His hands hadn’t stayed still the entire time, moving from one place to another, his touch gentle as if he were touching fine china. Whether they were stroking your hips, splayed across your stomach or resting on the side of your neck as he kissed you deeply your whole body automatically responded to his touch without you realizing it.

Fire filled your veins and your body easily arched into his, more than ready to let that fire consume your senses. Your body inadvertently clenched around him and a growl came from deep within his throat, his teeth scraping over his bottom lip.

You’d often seen his face of concentration, the creased brow and the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. That was the same expression he wore now, determined to shatter you for a second time. You couldn’t even begin to process how the hell it was adorable and sexy at the same time.

The two of your movements become more hurried and erratic, the air hot with pants and moans. His fingers dig into your sides as his orgasm hit him.

“Oh god I love you,” Spencer moans into your neck as he succumbs to his high, your name falling from his lips.

Your breathing is suddenly heavier and not solely because of your own building climax, but because of his words. You don’t have a moment nor a clear head to think about what was just said as you’re a whimpering and writhing mess underneath him, the heavy knot in your stomach coiling tighter and tighter. You feel yourself coming apart at the seams, as if all your nerve endings are ready to burst into oblivion.

Spencer knows you well because within a short time of his own release he sends you falling into an abyss of ecstasy, caressing you and kissing you anywhere and everywhere he can, the entire time. You’re pretty sure it takes you a few minutes to breathe properly again.

Afterwards, he gently nudges your cheek with his nose and you turn to face him, kissing him softly once again. You can’t possibly wrap your head around what had just happened. It wasn’t normal sex like you used to have with him. This was tender, passionate, but hot. Probably the hottest you’d had. Then you remembered what he’d said.

Was it sincere or was it just in the heat of the moment?

•

Both of you lay quietly for a while; so long you’re almost sure that Spencer fell asleep.

“I have to tell you something,” you finally said, halfway hoping he was already asleep.

“Hmm?” he asked, looking over at you.

“Before I tell you, I just want you to know that I appreciate what you did for me and Abbie even though I didn’t show it at the time. I’m grateful that you told me all you did earlier and I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I don’t know what I’d have done if-”

“Y/N, you’re rambling,” he chuckled, aware he’s guilty of the same thing at times too.

“Right. Well, I wanted to tell you I love you. Actually, I’m in love with you. I had to tell you because I just realized that I can’t deny it anymore and even though you probably don’t feel the same way, you deserve to know.”

He’d been watching you intently the entire time you’d been speaking. He licked his lips before responding.

“I meant it, you know.”

You looked over as he rolled over on his side and rested his head in his hand. You were confused as that wasn’t the immediate reaction you’d expected.

“Meant what?”

“That I love you. I saw your face when I said it.”

“My face?”

“Y/N, I’m not a profiler for nothing. You were freaking out because I said it.”

“Yes, but not for the reason you think.”

“Then why?” he asked.

“I didn’t know if you actually meant it or if it was just you know, the sex making you talk.”

“Well, I did mean it. I’ve been in love with you for a while, you know.”

You laugh incredulously, unable to believe that all this time he’d actually felt the same way as you.

“You have? Since when?”

“I’m not sure when exactly. It just kinda hit me one day that you were the one person I couldn’t get off my mind, the one who knows me better than most. I just didn’t know how or if to say it. It kind of slipped out accidentally earlier.”

“I just assumed it was because of the sex,” you chuckled.

“Oh believe me, the sex will definitely make me say it as well. Repeatedly.”

His lips twisted into a smirk as his hand glides over your stomach, pulling you close for a kiss.

“I love you.” He paused for a kiss.

“I love you,” Another kiss followed.

“I love you.” A third.

He retreated, laying back next to you.

“I can’t thank you for all that you’ve done for me these last few months. I wouldn’t have been able to get better without you by my side.”

You smiled, happy to see some of the old Spencer you knew and loved peeking through once again. Prison may have changed him, but he was still Spencer in all the ways that mattered.

“So what does this mean for us then?” you asked, watching his fingers glide lazily over your skin.

“I mean we’ve sort of been a couple for nearly 2 years now, so now it’s just us finally being smart and admitting it,” he smiled, “But if you want me to be official, I want you to be mine. My only girl. Well, besides Abbie. Can’t forget her.”

“No, definitely can’t forget her.”

“I want to be a family. If that’s okay with you, that is.” He added the last part hesitantly.

You put your hand over his, stopping his motions then twining your fingers with his.

“That’s more than okay with me,” you smiled up at him.

Maybe good things had come from all the bad.

You lay in a comfortable silence after that, simply enjoying each other��s company. It was Spencer who spoke next.

“You know what got me through the long days in prison?” he asked.

You shook your head, “No, what?”

“I thought about Abbie a lot of course. I had faith I would see her again. Also, I had faith in the BAU, I knew the team would do their jobs and work their asses off to get me out of there. But that’s not all.”

“At the end of the day, after all my misfortune, I knew faith would lead me back to my family.”

Tags: @wefracturedmotivation @rt8815 @pastanest

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid fic #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid gifs #spencer reid smut #Criminal Minds #criminal minds gifs #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut

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carternate · 4 years ago

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i really dont understand my own feelings

and im fucking terrified of myself.

i refuse to say im okay anymore. my head isnt okay

what im feeling isnt fucking normal

and i take it out on my girlfriend but in the same respect im terrified of telling her shit because i will be exposed. i trust her i want her and i love her more than anything. but i dont know how to explain my emotions anymore. i never did actually. im a fucking mess in general. i hate that i feel stuck in a prison of my own body. its not the dumb ass transgender feeling

its a literal feeling of a cage.

i hate the people in my past. i hate that they still have an impact

i hate that i cant control myself like i used to be able to and that i cant even take my medication because i tell myself im too tough for it lmao. i literally was so close to ending my life, but in an instant this time. not some pussy shit where i begged for help and then it was possible for someone to save me

i almost really just ended it. ended it because i didnt find value in it.

i dont feel good enough and everything seems wrong

but i want to be okay and be good and make it to heaven. i used to have a passion

i used to love god with all my heart but i cant even understand it anymore

its noones fault but my own

and that hurts even more

i cant even try to blame it on another its on me this time

ive lost control

i cant even think long enough to listen in my hour long class.

i thought i was broken before because of a family that degraded me

but whatever the fuck i feel now feels eighty times worse

but i keep it internal and i cant keep it in anymore

im going to fucking explode

im falling apart completely

and im going insane

and i dont feel that i belong here

i literally will sit in my car and think of scenarios

but when i actually start to FEEL its absolutely ridiculous and insane

and SO much.

i try to bring positivity and help anna

and i try to be sure that sentences like this dont happen

but flashbacks hit me hard

the hospital, that week. that first week was insane.

its fucked to say

but i felt like i belonged there. i felt like that could be my home. from the daily vitals,to the little kid that cried in the cornwr, to the creepy ass schizophrenic girl that was my roommate, to jenna, to my freak outs.

i was crazy. but i got to take it out and do it and have people who understood it and tried to help.

geneva ohio. is not a place where i can be okay and myself authentically

i cant even be myself at my fucking work place.

nobody understands shit other than the kids that were there

during our group sessions and even during school i felt like it was okay.

there is just a hole in my head that i can not find anything to fill

im curious about everything and i hve no idea what about

i have questions

so fucking many

and noone wants to hear them

i hate that i cant concentrate

i hate that when i tell my dad im not okay i cant even look him in the eye because all i can picture is coming out of the ambulance and seeing my mom and dad looking at me screaming what hppened

and i have never felt like that in my life.

i cant let go of that. i cant let go of the visual of mallory laying at the edge of my bed before i got sent away to laurelwood looking at me like “fuck dude. you really tried.” she looked sorry for me, but not the kind that people like want. not the kind of compassion

but the scared kind. she looked scared of me. nothing has been the same aince.i want to drown iut my thoughts

and my stupid fucking stutter

and i want to lay in annas arms and cry everything out

but i also want to fucking beat the shit out of someone

and thats not me. im not violent. but i want to like bEAT THE SHIT out of someone. anyone at this point. but whatever

i dont understand how things that are so fucking simple to other people are like fucking complete brain aches for me.

i cant go anywhere alone because i am scared of being physically alone but mentally ive never been more lonely and that scares me.

the story never ends i guess.

i hate how my mind can be spinning in circles and people that say they are there can be right next to me complaining and have no idea i want to jab a knife into my body lol

but then all i would be is a coward if i just ended it all. it would technically be the easy way out and i dont want to be that person. thinking about death doesnt really even scare me anymore, and that thought scares me more than death itself.

in a perfect world i guess everything would be fine

and i would be happy

and never necessarily need to think about things that hurt me or have those little bullets shot at my head with every turn i take.

but thats not reality, and realizing that alone needs

to be a priority that i take.

i probably wont ever live a life without triggers, depression, or anxiety.

and that fucking sucks.

especially because i know that people fake their mental illness just for the attention and they dont have to live with something that prevents them from doing everyday activities or being terrified of little shit

but in my opinion that attention people seek from illness or anything in general is the worst part about it. i hate when people find out about the hospital.

i get embarrassed regardless of how many times people will tell me its okay

like sure its okay. but its not normal. going to a mental institution shouldnt be something everyone does

or everyone knows someone who went. thats just fucked. and i hate that im someone that people will be like “oh emily went to one” or the questions i will get from people are absolutely morbid and NOT their business but i feel obligated to talk about it when people ask. its a fucked up world dude. and sometimes im really fucking sick of living in it.

i just want to be okay again, even if its for a second. just a second of peace and a second of understanding. a fucking break would be nice?

a vacation away with anna and my kitty? if i could get that right now my entire heart would be full. i need two weeks to mentally get myself okay again. but lucky for me that’s not possible, and some may say “welcome to the adult world” and that is such a fucking understatement.

this is never going to be over

and im always going to not be afraid of death and im always going to not know shit about myself and im always not going to treat anyone right and i cant fucking even breathe when im walking yet i still have to work daily. and im so sick of it from beginning to end. and i want my story to fucking end already.

God if you can see this by some small celestial chance you actually give a shit about Earth and its inhabitants fucking help me.

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dfcfanfics · 4 years ago

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So What the Hell Did I Do This Year?

As if I have to tell any of you this... 2020 was one completely messed-up year. COVID, elections, full-on national insanity...

It was also the Year of No New Miraculous Content (outside of the New York special, which I have not watched yet, and about which I’m not completely sure where it officially fits into canon.) So my stories have been in something of a post-Season 3 holding pattern much in the way that the show has.

Luckily for me, that post-Season 3 status (the Adrigaminette triangle) is rich with storytelling possibilities. Just about everything that I wrote this year revolved around that dynamic and how it might end up resolving.

LONGFICS:

Stuck In A Bakery (With You) (Complete) (AO3)

When a medical crisis appears to threaten the Agreste household, Gabriel's first impulse is to send his son far away from potential danger. (One does not risk the company's most valuable asset, after all!) While visiting Marinette at her house, Adrien gets the word that he's about to be spirited away to stay with distant relatives for the duration.

But this is the Dupain-Cheng household... and they may have other ideas as to how a less traumatic self-quarantine might be arranged.

My big story for the year, and going by the numbers, my biggest hit yet. I was a little bit wary of writing a COVID story in this context, but I decided to try something a little different; short, rapid-fire chapters, posted one-per-day for quite some time. I was cooped up, I was feeling creative, and I felt like entertaining people in the same boat.

This one was a slow-burn for the ages. With Our Heroes in captivity and Hawkmoth dormant, Marinette and Adrien explore what they mean to each other, share a bathroom, do their best to avoid hurting Kagami (as Adrigami was an in-progress thing when the quarantine hits) and decide what comes next. Tom and Sabine manage the business in troubled times while supporting the budding relationship, Gabriel and Nathalie insert themselves into events, the classmates do their best to grasp what’s going on, and a good deed done wrong proves most impactful.

No one gets sick or intubated or buried, even as the realities of the virus and its impact remain present. This is not Pandemic Porn. This is fluff and comfort and two nervous kids learning about each other up close.

Throw Me Around Like One Of Your French Girls (WIP) (AO3)

Reflecting upon an unpleasant encounter, Marinette makes a small realization... as Ladybug, she can defend herself with ease, but what happens if she's facing down unwanted physicality as Marinette? It's a good thing that she happens to know a classmate who's studying the martial arts, if he'd be willing to teach her some things?

A short multi-parter, a pleasant distraction from the continuing It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time. Fluff, fashion choices, twisted arms, friendship, tension and tap-outs.

The next variation on the triangle’s developments. It started as a small rumination on what happened in Felix (namely Ladybug punching his lights out), with Marinette learning some Aikido from her handsome classmate. With Adrigami still happening, Marinette feels much more relaxed around him... and with Marinette relaxed around him, Adrien is increasingly captivated by her. (Lukanette is Not Quite A Thing Yet in this, though certainly possible. Luka is Mr. Not Appearing Much In This Year’s Stories Of Mine.)

Unlike in Stuck In A Bakery, Kagami can and does meet with both of them throughout. There is a definite connection each way, and a need to pass the Bechdel Test -- Marinette refuses to let her and Kagami be solely defined by Adrien. .

Still in progress, approaching its climax, kind of on hold because Delicate’s been more on my mind.

It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time... (technically WIP) (AO3)

A week ago, the friendly relationship between Adrien, Marinette and Kagami seemed to be blossoming on all fronts... But that was a week ago.

Now, Marinette is wondering what - if anything - in her life can be salvaged.

Then there's a knock at her door... and, suddenly, so many things are changing all at once.

A short flight of fancy, several small parts to come.

Round three in the Adrigaminette triangle -- and this one really _is_ Adrigaminette in nature.

A highly stressed, frustrated and emotionally troubled Marinette has all the plates in the air right now. Her wish-he-was-her-boyfriend is seeing her new friend Kagami, she’s not entirely sure if Luka would be an adequate substitute, she has her new Guardianship to contend with, and everything seems to be falling apart at once.

So, when Kagami shows up on her doorstep because Adrien abruptly dumped her... thinking isn’t the first thing on her mind. Acting is. And act, she does!

This is NOT a dump-on-Adrien fic, however, no matter how much it may seem so at first. Adrien gets his turn to express why he did what he did, how he felt he was being unfair to Kagami by continuing, and why he’s just as troubled Marinette is... but Ladybug and Ryuko asking Chat what _he_ thinks they should do complicates that greatly, as you might expect.

I say TECHNICALLY WIP because I feel like it stands well just as I left it... but I feel like I could add another epilogue chapter or two to it at some point. And perhaps I will.

Delicate (WIP, NSFW!) (AO3)

A university-aged Marinette hears a cry for help on a quiet Saturday night, while walking home. Her glory days as Ladybug were years ago, but she still has her Miraculous, so... she investigates. What she finds startles her... among other emotions.

This is the one that I had told myself I would never write.

I’ve been dismissive of aged-up fics in the past that were aged up simply to enable sex scenes without triggering the dreaded Underage tag. Not as in “no one should ever write those,” but as in “this isn’t my cup of tea as an author.” But a scene jumped into my head, and it inspired a thought... if Marinette and Adrien _did_ jump straight to age nineteen for the purposes of my story, what happened in those years in-between?

“Porn Without Plot is like Faith Without Works” was one of the first tags on this one. Yes, Our Heroes bump uglies in this one... frequently. But don’t let that scare you off. There is a lot of exploration here that doesn’t involve bodies, such as:

Why isn’t Marinette actively Ladybug any more? Why did Adrien disappear for two years -- and what happened on the night that caused it? Why is Plagg absolutely furious at Adrien? How will Adrien explain any of this to his onetime partner -- or to Marinette -- or to both at once, once he recovers from the shock of knowing that they’re one and the same? And what will the other Kwamis think about all of this?

Lighthearted at its core, angstful when necessary, sexy without being explicit, full of difficult conversations and circumstances. It’s not about what they’re up to; it’s about why.

ONE-SHOTS:

A Little Promise I’d Made Myself (Complete) (AO3)

It's New Year's Eve in Paris, and at Rose's house, the classmates (among many others) are having quite a party. Adrien is sipping on his punch, watching merriment ensue, and wondering what the right next move is for him... until he sees a certain classmate sitting by herself, looking less than enthusiastic.

Can these crazy kids find a way to make it work?

Of course they can.

I’m cheating with this one -- it was posted in the last week of 2019. But it’s New Year’s Eve and this is a New Year’s Eve story and I’m pimping it out, dammit.

Revisit this one and picture That Kiss when midnight arrives wherever you are, okay?

Perhaps I Failed To Think This Through... (CRACKFIC, complete) (AO3)

Gabriel Agreste's first transformation startled him with the changes to his physical form, the raw power at his command, and the endless possibilities that his magical proxies might provide.

But it's always a good idea to try a test run first... and maybe run your designs past a focus group, or something.

Crackfic based around Gabriel’s first attempt at villainy once gaining the power of Nooroo.

It... doesn’t go well.

Some Said He Had No Sense Of Humor (Complete) (AO3)

While wandering down in the room containing Emilie's chamber, Nooroo makes a very startling discovery. He reports it to Gabriel... who demonstrates absolutely no surprise. Little does Nooroo know that his day of surprises is just beginning... and what Gabriel truly has in mind, he will never see coming.

Crackfic based around Emilie’s coma... or lack thereof. What if Emilie really wasn’t in magical stasis -- and for the least predictable of reasons?

As always... I send my warmest regards to my readers. Your feedback and comments are always welcome, and they make writing these stories worthwhile. Stay well, stay happy, stay away from hairy men in trenchcoats, and stay tuned for what next year will bring. It _has_ to be better than what this one did... right?

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #fanfic #post-season 3 #happy new year ya filthy animals

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p-artsypants · 5 years ago

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Bad Day (3) Night

Marinette was Ladybug! This was Adrien's luckiest day ever! Except it wasn't, because all his good luck was used up in one go. Turns out this might be the worst day of his life.

Ao3 | FF.net

Part 1 Part 2

Sometime, when it was dark out and the house was quiet, Adrien roused from his sleep. It was raining now, the thunder softly rumbling in the distance. He felt gross, having slept in his clothes. His toe hurt, his face ached, and he was so goddamn tired.

But he was also hungry, and his stomach growled loudly.

“…skipped dinner…” he mutter to himself as he sat up. Plagg was passed out next to him, his little tummy bloated.

Adrien changed into his pajamas, intent on going back to sleep after he got some food, and slipped on house slippers.

With a small smile, Adrien scooped Plagg up and deposited him into the pocket of his sweat pants.

Quietly, Adrien left his room, and began to head down the stairs, but stopped, just as he was about to round the corner.

Nathalie and his father were still awake, and they were talking.

“If she’s making these kind of lies up about Adrien, it would be better to drop her as an ally. Adrien’s in enough trouble anyways. I don’t need fabricated problems on him as well.”

“But what about her ability to facilitate akumas? She’s even better than Chloe at it.”

“It’s a shame, but the betrayal she’ll feel at being dropped will cause some perfect anger and rage. There might even be other akuma’s in store too.”

Adrien’s blood ran cold. Why the hell was his father talking about akumas? Why did he care?

“Uh, master?” Asked a very small and timid voice. “You aren’t still thinking about akumatizing Adrien, are you?”

“After the day he had, he would have been perfect. I’ll wait until he wakes up to see what kind of mood he’s in. I could always tell him I’m pulling him out of school for sure. That would put him over the edge.”

Adrien’s fist tightened, as he clawed at the banister. Without his consent, his feet started walking forward, until he was at the top of the stairs.

There, he could see his father and Nathalie seated, and two kwamis floating nearby. One that looked like a butterfly, and the other like a peacock.

He wanted to vomit.

Nathalie noticed him first. “Oh! Adrien!”

The two kwamis ducked out of sight, but it was far too late.

“What…are those?” Adrien’s voice sounded foreign. Angry, cold, hollow.

“You’re awake,” said Gabriel, nervousness leaking into his voice. “Are you hungry? You missed din—“

“You’re Hawkmoth.” He breathed. “And…she’s Mayura….”

“Adrien…” Gabriel said it so gently, reassuringly.

“Don’t lie to me!” He hissed. “I heard you! You said you wanted to akumatize me!”

“Son, come on…” Gabriel reached for him, but he backed away.

Adrien started shaking his head. “This…this can’t be happening. This isn’t real!” He wailed.

Gabriel sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Adrien, I will explain everything. I promise. I’m sorry.”

Adrien just stood and quivered, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Plagg was awake in his pocket, nuzzling against his leg to calm him.

“Come on. I won’t hurt you.” Gabriel beckoned him towards his office.

Everything in Adrien was screaming at him to run. Run far and fast. He’d tell his Lady, and this whole thing would be over. They’d get their happily ever after and this nightmare of a day would be over.

But he couldn’t forgive himself if he went the rest of his life never knowing the ‘why’. So silently, he followed him into his office, up to the painting of his mother.

Gabriel pressed on a set of buttons, and started to descend in an elevator. He was quick to pull Adrien on with him too.

Down they went, down into the depths of the basement. A large room, with a garden at the end.

He had to still be dreaming, right? Surely this was a nightmare induced by his terrible day.

But no. At the end of the walkway laid a garden with dozens of white butterflies fluttering around in the space.

And a glass coffin, with his mother inside.

At the sight of her, Adrien began to cry, fat tears rolling off his cheeks and he was helpless to stop it.

A heavy hand laid on his shoulder. “The peacock miraculous is broken,” he began. “It wears the user out, and makes them sick. Emilie, your mother, wielded it first. Soon, she succumbed to the illness and fell into a long, deep sleep. If I can get my hands on the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculous, I can make a wish, and wake her up. Then we’ll be a family again. Don’t you see?”

Adrien’s mouth was too dry, and his words were stuck. He couldn’t even remember to how to speak. All he could see was his mother’s sleeping face. The one he had so desperately missed in this passed year. She looked exactly the same.

“I did this all for you.”

Adrien shook his head, refusing to accept that. “No…no you didn’t.”

“Adrien…” Gabriel began, trying to explain it to him like his was thick.

“No. Because if this was for me, you would have told me right away! You would have let me know that she wasn’t gone! You would have let me see her! I—I miss her so much! And you knew that! But she’s been here this whole time! And you never once told me about it!”

Gabriel held his hand out. “But you know now, and you can help me get the Miraculous.”

“No. Absolutely not. You…you’re crazy if you think I’m going to stay in this goddamn house one more minute! I need—I need to get out of here! How do I get out!?”

Gabriel sighed. “Calm down, Adrien. Let’s talk this through.”

Adrien ran back to the elevator, and pressed an up arrow, the elevator blessedly starting to move.

Upstairs, he burst from the office and practically sprinted up the stairs to his room. In his closet, he dug out his duffle bag and started to pack up his essentials.

Plagg didn’t say a word. What comfort was there to give?

Far too quickly, Gabriel appeared in the doorway. “Adrien, you don’t need to go anywhere. You’re safe here.”

“I don’t feel safe!”

“Adrien, I promise I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You say that now! Now that you’ve been caught!”

“Adrien—“

“You’ve akumatized every single one of my classmates! Some more than once! You constantly make me rub shoulders with people like Lila and Chloe, who brew akumas better than anyone! Now you expect me to believe I’m safe here?! Are you kidding me!?”

“Adrien, calm down.” Gabriel demanded.

“Or what?! You’ll akumatize me!?”

Gabriel didn’t deny it, but the glare on his face showed otherwise. “I forbid you from leaving this house.”

“If you want me to visit you in jail, you’ll stay out of my way.” He bit back.

That did it. The sternness in his eyes gave way to panic, and he stepped aside.

Adrien shouldered his bag and headed down the stairs.

“Your driver will take you to Miss Bourgeois hotel.” Gabriel ordered, so plainly.

“No. He won’t.” Adrien bit, reaching the door. “I’m making my own decisions now. I’m going my own way. All my life, I have done everything I could to please you. To make you proud of me. But I can’t anymore. Because you’ll keep bending me until I snap. And then you’ll walk over my shattered pieces. But I have people I’d gladly bend over backwards for, because they’re willing to bend for me too. Maybe you should learn to be more flexible, Hawkmoth.”

With that, he slammed the door shut behind him, and took off running.

—

He should have transformed.

Plagg was in his ear telling him to. It was safer. It was faster. But Adrien couldn’t muster up the nerve to do so. He felt like he was being watched. Like Gabriel had the city in the palm of his hand, waiting to strike.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t swallow, all he could do was run.

Finally, the bakery was in sight, and he didn’t stop until he collided with the door. He pounded with his fist, and rang the bell, his knees threatening to buckle.

Finally, the hall light went on, and he could see a clock on the wall.

Midnight.

Marinette, Alya, and Nino all hurried down the stairs.

The door opened slightly, Marinette’s face poking out, and then all the way when she realized who was there. “Adrien!”

“Dude, you’re soaked! What happened?”

At the sight of his lady, Adrien broke down. He threw his arms around her and just started weeping. He clawed at her skin and buried his face in her shoulder as he wailed. He was soaking her with rainwater, tears, and snot, but he couldn’t find the energy to stop.

“Dude!”

“Marinette! Look out!” Alya’s cry pierced him in the heart before a chill over took him.

He could hear his father’s voice in his head. “Adrien…”

“No!” Adrien shouted, pulling away from Marinette and keeping her at arms length. “Leave me alone! Leave me alone! You ruined my life! I hate you! I hate you so goddamn much! Why won’t you just leave me alone!?”

The chill disappeared, and he was himself again.

Marinette’s warm hands laid against his damp skin, and caressed his cheeks. “Hey...look at me Adrien.”

Her eyes were filled with tears, sparkling like stars. She was smiling her heartbreaking smile at him. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

“You got me…” He whispered, choking.

Then he hugged her again, sobbing as the day’s frustrations rolled off of him one by one.

Nino wrapped an arm around him and brought him fully into the bakery, while Alya closed and locked the door.

He pulled away, rubbing his eyes. “I’m so sorry...you guys were probably having so much fun—“

“Shh.” Marinette combed his bangs away from his face. “You ruined nothing. We are ecstatic that you’re here.”

“We were so bummed when you said you couldn’t make it.” Added Nino, hand still on his shoulder. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

Marinette took his hand gently. “Come on, let’s get you some dry clothes. Have you eaten?”

His stomach growled. “I’m starving.”

“Great!” Chirped Alya, “cause we made too much pizza! Mister ‘I can eat a whole pie myself’ over here only ate two slices!”

“But they were the biggest slices!” Nino protested.

Adrien laughed. Feeling better already.

In the apartment, Alya shoo’ed them upstairs. “Go on,” she urged. “We’ll keep the pizza warm.”

Marinette blushed but took him up to her room anyways.

She closed the trap door behind her, thankfully.

“I’ve got just the thing for you.” She announced, going to the chest next to her chaise. “I was going to give you these for Christmas, but I have another gift idea in mind anyways.” She dug around, and then pulled out a pair of pajamas.

A red shirt that said ‘Bug Out!” in black ink. Then a pair of extremely soft pants, that were black with red polka dots on them. “Here, I made them myself. I even designed the logo and screen printed it. Nino let it slip that you have a thing for Ladybug...do you like them?”

He gathered them into his hands, reveling in the softness of the fabric.

His lady made these, just for him!

He started sobbing again.

“Oh Adrien...”

“I-I-I’m sorry!” He croaked. “I love them! I’m so happy you made these for me! I love you so much!”

Out of all the things he needed to tell her, that wasn’t supposed to be the first.

Oh well.

She stared at him with impossibly wide eyes. “You...you love me?”

She began to smile, before it faded into something akin to disappointment. She tried to hide it, but he was too familiar with fake smiles.

He wiped his eyes and took a breath. “That’s not what I meant to say. Not that I don’t love you! I do! I mean! You’re great! And…I’m sorry…I’m…I’m a mess.”

Marinette just wiped his face with her thumb. “It’s okay…something obviously happened tonight. We’ll talk about it, when you’re ready.” Then she glanced over to the duffle he brought with him. “That looks like more than an overnight bag.”

“Yeah...I might...I might need a place to stay for a while...” he hiccuped.

With a soft smile, she steered him to the changing screen on the other side of the room.

“We have a guest room,” she offered. “Maman and papa are gone this weekend, but I’m sure they’d love to have you. If you’d like to stay here. Unless the Lahiffe’s don’t mind if you stay on their couch.”

“Wherever I am the least a burden.” He came out from behind the screen, looking smaller than Marinette had ever seen him. “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, or intrude.”

“You will be welcome here.” Marinette assured, taking his hand. “I promise.”

Tears started to fall again, and Marinette was quick to catch him. She pulled him into a hug, holding onto him tightly.

“I’m so scared, Marinette. I don’t know what to do.”

She squeezed him, attempting to crush the sadness in her friend. “Well, let’s get you something to eat. Sometimes, being hungry makes things seem worse than they are.”

“Okay…” Adrien doubted that was the case in this scenario, but he was very hungry.

Together, they travelled down to the kitchen, only to find Alya and Nino both asleep, each side of the ‘L’ shaped couch taken.

Marinette hummed. “Well, that’s fine. Let’s get you some food, and then we can sit in my room and talk. ‘Kay?”

Adrien nodded. Not that he didn’t love Alya and Nino, but he and Marinette had to talk. He couldn’t push this aside for now.

She got him a plate, with two slices of margarita pizza, some chips, a soda, and a handful of chouquettes.

The meal looked amazing, because it was everything he wasn’t allowed to eat.

When they retreated and the trap door shut, Alya and Nino peeked at each other and high fived.

In Marinette’s room, she urged him up towards the bed. “It’s more cozy up here,” she explained, a blush staining her cheeks.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

He scampered up the ladder and made himself comfortable, while she did the same.

While he ate, they made small talk. Marinette telling him all about what they did so far.

“No pillow fights?”

“We don’t really do pillow fights. That’s more of...an American thing? I think? Mostly just movies.”

He pouted, before polishing off his last chouquette. “That’s disappointing.”

“Well, then you know you didn’t miss it. Alya did paint my toe nails though.” She showed off her sparkling green toes. Her big toes had little black paw prints on them.

“Oh my god!” He sobbed, and started crying again.

“Adrien?”

“It’s so—so—cute! I can’t stand it!” He wiped his eyes. “I’m getting really tired of bursting into tears over everything. I’m sorry. My emotions are shot.”

“It’s okay,” she assured softly. “Are you ready to talk about what happened?”

He set his empty plate on the little shelf by her bed, and then reclined to get more comfortable. He took a little pillow and hugged it to his chest. “There’s a lot I have to tell you. Each is equally important. I just…don’t know what order to tell you them. I don’t want you to get mad.”

Marinette touched his head ever so gently, petting his hair. “I won’t get mad.”

“Promise?”

“Of course. I’m here for you Adrien. Whatever you need.”

He clutched the pillow a little tighter, gathering his courage. “I…I know you’re Ladybug.”

He was expecting an explosion. A complete freak out.

But what he got instead, was a soft exhale and, “I know.”

“Wait, what?”

“Tikki told me. She said you saw me this morning detransform. You were in the stall I ran into…and I totally didn’t notice.”

Adrien buried his face in the pillow. “I didn’t know how to tell you! I was going to! But—“

“It was embarrassing, I know.” She laughed a little. “I guess that’s what I get for panicking and running into the wrong bathroom.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Marinette. You’re perfect.”

Her voice became a little deeper, a little softer. “I’m really not.”

That grabbed his attention, and he looked up to her. “…do…you…have a crush on me?”

She sighed again, her face red and her lips pulled into a wobbly smile. “You found out about that, too?”

“I’m told Nino is a dead man if he told me, but he heavily hinted at it.”

She shook her head. “Why? Why would he tell you that?”

“Because I told him that I was in love with you.”

The disappointed look came back to her face, and she looked away. “No, you aren’t.”

“But I am!” He sat up quickly, kneeling in front of her. “I swear I am!”

“Adrien…” She took his hands, rubbing her thumbs over his knuckles. “You love Ladybug. And…while I am her…you never showed that kind of interest in Marinette. You only think you’re in love with me now, because you know.”

He shook his head, frantically. “No, no that’s not it at all!” He pulled her forward into him, hugging her again. “Please let me prove it to you, Mari. I can’t lose you. You’re all I have left.”

Concerned, and so full of love, Marinette hugged him back. He was shaking in her arms, and holding her so tightly, like he was afraid she’d disappear.

Gently, she pulled away just enough to look at him. “Okay, I believe you.” She assured, even though she wasn’t completely convinced.

He managed a weak smile, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” The joy and sunshine that seemed to live inside of him was completely snuffed out. “If you really love me, and found out I had a crush on you...you wouldn’t be upset like this.”

“No, that was the best thing that ever happened to me. The luckiest, actually. So…I only had bad luck the rest of the day.”

She thought back to what she had seen that day. Him limping around, his failed test, his ‘dump king’ status…all of it seemed to pile up.

With a thoughtful frown, she pulled him back with her against the pillows, so that he could rest his head on her chest and she could pet his hair.

“Okay. I’m not going to talk. Pretend I’m not Marinette or Ladybug. Pretend I’m not even here. Just tell me everything.”

He relaxed against her, snuggling into her hold.

“It started this morning. I grabbed the first stall, which I knew didn’t latch properly, but I forgot until I sat down. I couldn’t close the door, so you didn’t notice that I was in there. But you ran in, dropped your transformation, and then left. It was only a couple seconds, but I recognized you immediately. I…I was elated. Ladybug, one of my best friends! The love of my life was right there!”

He hid his face, so he couldn’t see her reaction.

“I was so happy about it, even though it was super embarrassing, and then Plagg had to go and ruin it by mentioning that it was likely that all of my good luck was used up for the day.”

Marinette stopped petting him, but she didn’t move away.

From his place on her chest, he could hear her heart rate increase. He swallowed, waiting for her reaction.

She just exhaled slowly, shakily, and said, “Continue.”

Letting out his own shaky breath, he proceeded to recap the day. Starting with breaking his toe, and being humiliated in front of the class, then going into the threat from Lila and being suspended from work.

Then he grew tense. This stopped being a therapy session, and now it was a business meeting.

He sat up, straddling her legs. He wanted to hold her hands, but he didn’t dare touch her. Just met her gaze, so she could see how serious he was.

“I woke up not long before I came here, and went downstairs to get some dinner. But…I saw my father and Nathalie talking…and…”

The moment came back to him, the horror of what he had learned, the very idea that his whole life had changed. Things wouldn’t be okay for a long time. His eyes started to water again.

But Marinette just sat there patiently, listening with an easy smile on her face.

“I saw…they had…my father was saying…that he wanted to akumatize me. And both Nathalie and him had kwamis. I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop myself. I confronted him.”

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around himself, squeezing his arms. “My father is Hawkmoth. And…Nathalie is Mayura.” He sniffed. “He tried to recruit me, and he showed me why he was doing this. My…my mother…she’s still alive. She’s in a coma, in the basement. He thinks if he can get both of the Miraculous, he can use the power to wake her up—“ He choked and covered his mouth with his hand.

Marinette watch him, as his eyes grew wide and he began to spiral into self doubt.

“Then what happened?” She urged, trying to get it all out now before he completely shut down.

“I told him I…I didn’t feel safe being there. So I packed a bag, and threatened not to visit him in prison if he didn’t let me go.” He swallowed. “And then I ran here. Because…I knew it was safe. You were safe.”

“You didn’t transform?”

“I was too afraid to. I assumed he sent an akuma after me, to see where I went…and I was right. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, and reached out for him again.

“You’re being awfully calm about this.” He noted.

“One of us has to be.” She eased him to lay on her again, resuming her petting. “I freaked out enough today as it is.”

“Because I saw you?”

“Yeah. And because I walked in on you in the bathroom. Talk about embarrassing.”

“I think I out-embarrassed you today,” he said with a weak smile.

“It’s okay, kitty.”

He hummed and began to purr.

Suddenly, she shoved him off of her with a little scream.

“My Lady?!”

“You really are him! You are Chat Noir!”

“I mean—yeah? Did—did I not mention that?”

“Not explicitly! You just brought up Plagg a few times and the pigeon thing, but I was trying to separate myself from the situation to stay calm, but the second you purred it was like…it finally clicked! You’re Chat!”

He hunched his shoulders. “Is…is that a bad thing?”

“No! No no minou not at all! I’m so happy! I’m just—shocked!”

“Then why did you look so disappointed when I said I loved you?”

She blushed. “Because it’s like I said…I thought you only loved me because I was Ladybug. And Adrien didn’t really know Ladybug. They had only met a few times, but Marinette…I was always there. But knowing that you’re Chat softens the blow, I guess. Because I know Chat really does love me.”

“Let’s stop talking like we’re different people.” Adrien said softly. “I love you, Mari. Both parts of you. Yes, I fell in love with Ladybug first, but Marinette was always important to me. Finding out that you were the same person was just this moment of ‘oh duh’. Ladybug can’t be anyone but you, My Lady.”

“Adrien…”

“Even before I knew, I called you our everyday Ladybug, right?”

She gave him a shy smile. “Alright, I guess you’ve convinced me.”

“Good.” He tackled her back to the mattress, trapping her in his arms. “Because I’m going to start crying again any minute now, and I need you to pet me again.”

“Oh kitty cat…” She softened at his tone and got to work running her fingers through his damp hair.

“Marinette,” He purred, settling on her collar bone. “I’m so glad I found you. I didn’t know what to do and I—“ he choked.

“Shh, it’s okay. We’re partners, right? We always have each other’s backs?”

He nodded.

“Then tonight, don’t worry about your dad, or any of that other crap that happened. Let’s just…enjoy each other.”

He melted. His purr growing with each stroke, his heart began to settle and the ache startled to subside. “I love you.”

She didn’t respond immediately, pausing her pets. Then she licked her lips and confessed, “You were the other guy.”

Adrien pushed up on his arms, looking down to her. “What?”

She flushed. “The reason I kept pushing away Chat Noir…was because I was desperately in love with Adrien.”

He blinked. “Desperately?”

“Desperately.” She whispered.

They were already so close. Their noses almost touching.

She could smell his cologne. The spicy scent surrounded her, sending goosebumps over her arms.

“And…does that change now? Now that you know…” his voice deepened, as his nose brushed against hers. “This handsome model…is also your silly kitty?”

Her voice was just a whisper. “It makes things easier.”

“Yeah?”

“It means…I can love, and I don’t have to pick between the two most important boys in my life.”

“Mari…”

She could feel the heat from his lips, so tantalizingly close. She raised her hands, one cupping his cheek, the other playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “Are you going to kiss me?”

He smiled, a huff of air fanning on her lip. “I’m just savoring the moment, My Lady. I know this is nearly routine for you. But this will be my first kiss that I remember.”

She smiled back. “I’ll be sure to make it memorable.”

“Every moment with you is worth remembering.”

He crashed his lips onto hers, snaking his arms around her to hold her.

Desperate is what she said, and that’s what this kiss was. Giving so much, and receiving more in return. Short kisses that started again before they ended, peppered with little smacks and moans. Tongues that, nervously at first, darted out to tease. Then slowly, long, languid dances and tug-o-wars. Adrien inhaled her, savoring her scent, her taste, her silky smooth feel. His hand rode up her shirt, and he moaned at the flawless skin of her back.

Her hand skirted up his neck and into his hair, her nails scrapping against his scalp.

His purr came back, vibrating between them like a shared heart.

Almost effortlessly, he rolled, flipping them over so she was on top. It didn’t even break the kiss.

Marinette broke away with a squeak when his hand went down and grabbed her butt.

“I’m sorry!” He blushed, still so close. “I…I had just been thinking about that adorable butt of yours all day and…sorry, I sound like a total pervert.”

She shook her head, before pecking him gently. “Nah, I think your butt is pretty cute too.”

“You check out my butt?”

“Honey, in that leather, it’s hard not to.”

He barked a laugh that almost startled her. “You’re too cute.”

“I’m not the one with the full page magazine spreads.”

“I’m pretty sure Ladybug was on the cover of Time Magazine.”

“And Chat Noir was on the cover of Vogue.”

“Leather’s in, baby.”

She kissed him again to shut him up. When she pulled away, he was just smiling softly at her.

“I never want to stop kissing you.” He admitted. “That was awesome.”

“You can kiss me anytime you want. You just have to do one thing.”

“Anything.” He breathed, earnestly.

“Let me be your girlfriend.”

“Psh, I’d let you be my wife this second if I could. But I guess I’ll settle for girlfriend.”

She kissed his nose. “Seems like your luck finally turned around.”

“The luckiest I’ve ever been.” He beamed, then he froze in horror. “Shit!”

“What?”

“I used up all my good luck in one go again!”

“Thats okay. You’ll just have to borrow mine.”

Aw, who needed luck anyway?

#miraculous ladybug #chat noir #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #fanfiction #bad day #adrienette #ladynoir #ladrien #marichat #fluff #angst and then fluff #with a lil spice

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fanfictionaries · 5 years ago

Text

Love and Academia Ch. 10 - Friends and Feelings

Pairing: AU Professor!Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Swearing, smut, NSFW/18+ only, mentions of death/violence/suicide, Angst

Author’s note: A sweet, little Steve/Natasha chapter. Super short. Super sweet.

Just thought I’d give you guys a little Steve/Natasha interaction. I love them so much and I know some people have said how much they love them as well! So hopefully this holds you over till the next chapter is up!

And as always, I do not currently have a beta reader so please excuse any larger issues. It’s just little ol’ me!

***

“I said, stop. Moving,” Natasha huffed, attempting to grab ahold of Steve’s wrist once again. However, just as she had it within her grasp, he moved it, too engrossed in his animated ramblings to stay still.

“I’m just saying, you should have seen the way they were looking at each other!” exclaimed Steve, waving his free hand wildly through the air for emphasis. The full movement of his other arm currently inhibited by the pair of handcuffs keeping him secured to the metal headboard. “You know, I’m happy that he finally feels like he’s in a place where he can start moving on from Diane, but I don’t think Emily is the best person to move on with. Not that I don’t think your friend is great. It’s just…I mean she’s his student.”

He had been going on about Bucky and Emily since he’d shown up to her apartment that afternoon. Early on, Natasha reminded him that what the two of them did was none of their concern. They could only be supportive, give their best advice and let them make their own decisions – they were adults. Steve agreed. But the thoughts continued to flow past his lips like word vomit.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, finally capturing his right arm and closing the cool metal around his wrist.

Completely unfazed by the full restraint of his upper body, Steve continued to ramble, “But at the same time, they do seem really great together. She makes him smile. He almost never smiles anymo—”

“Shh, shh, shh,” Natasha cooed, placing a finger to Steve’s lips and moving to straddle his lap. “I think it’s really sweet how much you care about your friend. But for now, new rule: no Bucky in our bed. Understood?”

To emphasize her point, she ran a sharp nail from his temple down to his lower abdomen, leaving a red, raw line behind. The large man shuddered underneath her, letting a small whimper out as he closed his eyes. A wave of power washed over her. She loved seeing him like this. So strong. So muscular. So pretty. So helpless. Entirely under her control.

“I said, understood?” Natasha asked again, settling her weight onto his lap fully, grinding against his budding erection.

“Yes ma’am,” Steve groaned out, breathing harsher now.

“Good boy,” she hummed, leaning forward and placing light kisses along his sharp jaw line. She was just reaching the center of his chest, the light smattering of blond chest hair tickling her lips when the silence was broken.

“I don’t know. What-what do you think?”

With a heavy sigh, Natasha sat up, looking down at the adorably sensitive man beneath her. She couldn’t bring herself to be mad at him. It was endearing how much he cared about their friends. He had a good heart and she couldn’t fault him for that – even if it did interfere with her sex life.

“Okay, if we’re going to talk about this, I have a few questions.” Steve nodded at her conditions. Scooting up his body, she seated herself on his lower stomach and ran a hand through her red curls. “Isn’t Bucky married?”

Steve seemed to grapple with the question for a few moments before answering, “Yes and no.”

“You’re either married or you’re not Stevie. Is Diane in the picture or not?” Natasha raised an eyebrow at the man below her.

Steve sighed, mouth pressed into a thin line, “No, she’s not in the picture. But Buck, he’s…he’s having a hard time coming to terms with it. I’ve tried to get him to talk to me about it, but he’s stubborn. You can’t make him talk about anything he doesn’t want to. Emotions included.”

“Well that explains the wedding ring. It sounds like he’s not allowing himself to reach the sixth step of rebuilding after divorce – acceptance.” Natasha tapped her fingers against the hard muscle of Steve’s chest as she thought.

“I think he’s moving towards acceptance, but he still refuses to talk about what happened in-depth. It’s like he’s trying to cope with it in his own way, which I understand but—”

“You can’t force him to talk about it. People process things in their own way. If what you say is true and he’s starting to come to grips with it, even if it’s in a way you don’t understand, you have to let him. It might not be the healthiest way, but he is making an effort,” said Natasha, her heart going out to the soft, kind man. He cared so much. Clearly, he wanted to fix Bucky’s problems for him, but unfortunately that’s not the way things worked.

“You’re right. You’re right. He’s an adult. I have to let him make his own decisions.”

Natasha nodded, but felt overwhelmed by confliction. As much as she had preached staying out of the situation, now that she knew Bucky wasn’t actually married, she was tempted to tell Emily. It would certainly sooth the woman’s conscience. No matter how many times she tried to tell Emily that she was not to blame, she knew it still bothered her. Emily had some hang ups, most likely due to a childhood she refused to share. But the biggest one seemed to be fidelity. Therefore, as a friend she felt an obligation to ease her guilt. However, it really wasn’t her place to share the information. While Steve hadn’t explicitly stated the information was private, she also knew that it wasn’t common knowledge. It might actually be a good thing that Emily still believed he was married. The last thing her best friend needed was the drama of becoming involved with an emotionally unavailable man. This thought brought her to her second question.

“Do you really think Bucky would seriously pursue Emily?”

“If you’d asked me that question ten years ago, I’d say absolutely not. He’s always been the more cautious one—”

“Oh, and you’re the reckless, wild one?” Natasha laughed.

“You’ve got me handcuffed to a bed and I let you do that…thing the other night. I’d say that’s pretty wild,” said Steve, an impressive blush spreading across his whole upper body.

“Mmmmm, if I recall correctly, you thoroughly enjoyed ‘that thing’,” Natasha replied impishly, rubbing her palms over his chest.

“Maybe I did.”

“Just maybe? So, if I suggested doing that thing again tonight, you’d be against it?”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” said Steve playfully, lifting his hips to unseat the woman above him.

She fell forward, letting out a small yelp when her lower body slid down his torso till her center landed flush against his mouth. The yelp quickly dissolved into a moan. His tongue snaking out to give a long, warm lick over her lace covered folds; teeth nipping at her clit. Reaching a hand down, Natasha shifted her panties to the side and the conversation of Bucky and Emily to the backburner.

***

Steve stared down at the woman in his arms, breathing deeply as she slept. Moonlight shown through the gap in the curtain, falling perfectly over her face. She was beautiful. Beautiful and strong and supportive and kind. She was all of those things and most surprisingly, she was his. Or at least, he wanted her to be. They hadn’t ‘the talk’ yet. Hell, they’d only just become intimate. It might be too soon, but Steve was ready to commit. More ready than he ever thought he’d be after Peggy. Now, knowing what he had with Nat, what he felt with Nat, his relationship with Peggy felt trivial.

Peggy was his high school sweetheart. He had loved her. She had loved him. But they’d never really fit like he and Nat did. Where Peggy had been rigid and unmoving, Nat was compromising. Where Peggy had been serious, Nat was fun. Peggy had been career driven; Nat was emotion driven – just like him. Natasha appealed more to the reckless side of him, while Peggy always seemed to be reeling it in, trying to tone him down. It wasn’t like he was that crazy; he was a kindergarten teach for crying out loud! Still, there was a part of him that wanted adventure, to push his limits. Natasha wanted all those same things. She made him laugh. She kept him on his toes. She cared. Really cared. When she’d shown up to his school’s bake sale with two large containers of cookies and a nervous smile, his heart had skipped a beat. She was smart. So smart. She always knew the perfect thing to say and she really listened.

“I love you.” He spoke the words softly, letting the sound and feel of them settle in his mouth.

“Do you always tell girls you love them when you think they’re sleeping?” Natasha murmured, a small smile forming on her lips.

Steve’s heart stopped. He was mortified. His whole body went rigid, unsure of what to do or say. He thought for sure she was asleep. The words were true and genuine, but he wasn’t ready for her to hear them. It was way too early to say, ‘I love you’. Yet, here he was – the idiot that said it and now she was going to run screaming.

Moving closer to him, nuzzling her face into his chest, she placed a kiss to his pec, “Calm down big boy. I love you too.”

Letting out the breath he’d been holding, he wrapped his arms tighter around her. Pulling her close, he kissed the top of her head, breathing in the soft scent of her. Joy and content overtook him, carrying him off into a blissful sleep. The distant echo of her words repeating in his mind:

I love you.

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#love and academia #smut #fan fic #fan fiction #steve x nat #steve x natasha #steve rogers #steve rogers x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #fluff

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