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queenkrissy11-fandomaccount · 3 years ago

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Long Gone - Bucky Barnes x Reader

After weeks of a strained relationship, one fight and a surprise is enough for Y/N to run away and not look back.

By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be long gone. Don’t look for me, you won’t find anything.

You suck in a deep breath and tuck the note into the door. No turning back now.

Sure, you and Buck had your ups and downs but last night was different.

You were dealing with a depressive episode when he came home to the compound. You tried not to bother him with your sour feelings and it worked. He didn’t notice, though you weren’t sure how he could have when he didn’t wander in until well past midnight and smelt like cheap rum.

Then he had the nerve to try and crawl into your bed without a word.

“Are you joking?” You finally muttered.

“What?”

“Are you that drunk or just that clueless?” You demanded. “You left a shitty note about going to check out a terrorist threat and then ignored my texts all day. And then followed it with a trip to the bar before letting you fiancée know you’re alive? I’ve been worried sick for hours!”

He stopped pulling on the covers and rolled his eyes, “Sorry I didn't text you back, doll. I was busy saving the world. And who cares if I went for a drink?”

You knew it sounded like an over reaction but it went much deeper than that. You’d been having panic attacks left and right the past weeks over his job and he knew that. He had sat on the floor with you in his arms and assured you he’d check in when possible. Told you how he’d call you after every fight to tell you he was okay. You came to find there was no substance behind his words. They were just sweet nothings to calm you down.

“Why would Steve be returning my calls before you? I’m not worried about a stupid night at the bar! I feel like I’m losing you and you don’t care!”

A part of you knew you were looking to start a fight, to feel something from him other than indifference and annoyance. It had been a couple weeks since he’d shown any sign of giving a shit about you. You needed to know if there was anything left before you told him the latest news. You didn’t want Bucky if it was just for the baby. Sure, you knew he would step up but you didn’t know if that was for the best. An avenger for a father and parents that didn’t want to be together? You were pretty sure the baby inside you would be better off raised by a single mother in the middle of nowhere, far from the long list of enemies Bucky had.

He glared for a long second before snatching a pillow, “I’m not dealing with this tonight. I’ll be on the couch if that overbearing urge to check up on me gets to strong.” He slammed the door behind him and you broke into sobs.

You allowed yourself five minutes to be upset before wiping your tears and setting off to pack a bag. You didn’t grab much, only a weeks worth of clothes, a gun, and the running away back pack Tony had made for you. You tucked the duffel and the back pack underneath the bed.

You were faking it when Buck crept in the next morning to get ready for the job of the day. He hesitated in front of you and for a moment you were ready to throw your plans out the door. He shook his head and moved on and your resolve grew. You were leaving and it would be for the best.

Once he was gone you scribbled out the note and fiddled with the engagement ring on your finger. You knew you should leave it but you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off. You still loved him even if he didn’t love you. It wouldn’t hurt to bring one part of him with you. You glanced at your still small stomach, well, two.

Pepper didn’t bat an eye at your request to borrow a car. You snagged the keys to one of the nondescript SUVs and took off. About a mile down the road you pulled over and ripped out the tracking software on the car. You threw it in the dumpster behind a 7-11 along with your cell phone.

You drove, only stopping for gas, until you hit a small town in Virginia. You knew the town well but no one would know you. Every summer from the ages of 5 to 15 was enough to make an impact on you but not the town. You pulled into the drive of your grandmother’s old house. You had inherited the place when she died a couple years ago but due to working with the Avengers you didn’t have a need for it. The key slipped right into the deadbolt. The place looked just how you remembered it, only with more dust. The furniture was still there but you found what was all. The small knick knacks and mementoes were gone, likely claimed by other family members after her passing.

The old clock on the wall said it was 5. Plenty of time to get started on cleaning the place up.

It was a long and hard pregnancy. The super soldier serum running through your son added a couple complications. He grew fast and was much stronger than he should be. He did a number on your body from the inside but it was all worth it when you held him in your arms. You cursed your luck when he came out with a head full of dark hair and winter blue eyes.

You found work at a diner, making a living in tips. The great thing about tips is they tend to be paid in cash and it’s hard to trace cash. You were careful. No one was going to find you or your son. Andrew became the light of your life

Life was peaceful, a bit repetitive but safe. The biggest threat was your neighbor Travis. You would take a borderline stalker over Nazis any day.

“You have got to be kidding me,” You mutter to yourself when Travis saunters into the diner. He was your typical tool. Peaked in high school playing football. Can’t handle rejection. Full of himself.

“Good afternoon, table for one?” You put on a sweet smile.

“Just me, babygirl.” A chill runs down your spine but you shake it off and lead him to an empty booth.

“I’ll give you a minute to decide what you want but can I get you a drink?” You hand over the laminated menu.

“I already know exactly what I want and I think you do too.” He gives you a smirk and you have to resist the urge to jam your pen into his eye.

“Bacon cheeseburger?” You ask innocently.

He laughs it off but hands you his menu so you turn to put his order into the kitchen. You can feel his eyes on you as he walks away.

The day drags on and Travis sticks around. First for an order of fries. Then a shake. By the time that’s gone it’s late enough for a couple beers. He finally pays his tab and leaves ten minutes before closing. You’re relieved until you notice his Honda still in the parking lot when you leave.

You pat the holster in the waistband of your pants before making your way to the SUV in the back of the parking lot. The silver car tails you and it takes four right turns before you could go to pick up Andrew from his sitter.

Travis was back home when you finally pulled in. You double checked that the door was locked behind you before you went upstairs with Andy. He toddled around your room while you got ready for bed. Tonight you didn’t feel like fighting him on sleeping in the crib so you tucked him in you arms in your own bed.

Around two in the morning you woke up to the sound of glass shattering. You jumped out of bed with Andrew in your arms and grabbed the gun next to your bed.

Creeping down the stair you hear someone in the kitchen. You’re only ten feet from the front door. You take a deep breath, set Andrew at your feet, and bring the gun up. You were trained by Avengers. You wouldn’t miss the shot as long as you didn’t hesitate. You wait for the figure to come into view and pull the trigger. The deafening bang goes off and he hits the ground. You snatch up Andrew and run for the door. Travis is next to you before you can get in your car.

“What’s going on? I heard a gun?” He’s half naked and more alert than he was when he left the diner.

You’re scrambling for your keys when your front door flies off the hinges and the man you just shot steps out.

“This isn’t happening! How is it still following me?” You’re breaths are struggling to come and go. You push Andrew into Travis’ arms and aim at the man again. It doesn’t seem to do any damage. It just pisses him off. You take another shot and get the same result. You’re about to try again when a blur of a figure tackles the man. The moonlight catches on one of his arms and you’re frozen in place.

You grab the toddler and turn to run but Travis is a little too ready to play hero. He picks you up bridal style and runs.

He doesn’t make it fifty feet before a blond wall of muscle stops him. “Y/N?” Steve mutters after pulling you out of his arms. “What, what are you doing here?” Andrew begins crying louder and clinging to you. Steve finally looks down and has to take a step back.

“I can explain,” You start. Suddenly, you’re pushed to the pavement and Travis is throwing a punch at Captain America. Steve’s head turns with the force but his body stays planted. You kick yourself at the satisfaction you feel when Steve shoves Travis back. He crouches down in front of you and offers a hand.

“Let’s try that explanation now.”

You hear Bucky scoff behind him, “This will be good.” He freezes in his tracks when he takes in the site. You’re wearing a silk slip on the ground clutching a child that can’t be much more than a year old.

He stares for a long moment before shaking himself out of it and shrugging off his jacket. He wraps it around your shoulders before helping you to your feet.

You’re caught off guard by the rush of emotions when you look at him and hot tears well in your eyes, “I am so sorry Buck.”

He tries to be mad but can’t stop himself from pulling you into his arms. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, relishing in the feeling of you in his arms again. Andrew reaches his arms up and around your neck protectively, finally catching Bucky’s attention.

He steps back suddenly, “Who’s this?”

You swallow hard, knowing the storm that’s coming. “This is your son. Andrew James Barnes.”

“My what?” He looks at you in disbelief then back to Andrew.

“Let’s go inside?” You suggest.

Bucky stops inside the doorway and admires the wall of pictures. The majority of them Andrew at every stage so far. You were in a few with him but there was only a handful of just you. They’re different stages of your pregnancy. He swallows hard when he takes in the sight of you in the third month. That’s when the toll started being taken. He broke the first rib kicking right around that time. He was delivered at six months, the serum making him grow much faster. As the pictures got closer to delivery you looked more and more like a corpse. Bucky hated that he wasn’t there for you for any of it, that he didn’t even know you were dealing with it.

“He definitely takes after you. The serum is in his DNA.” You say quietly.

“Why didn’t you tell me? How could you just leave and take my child with you?” You can hear the emotion behind each of his words.

“You didn’t want to be with me and I wasn’t going to make you feel obligated to.” You knew it sounded pathetic, “And you have enough enemies to worry about. I didn’t want that for our son.”

“Our son,” He repeats quietly. “How is he so big? You’ve only been gone for a year.”

You rub and hand over his cropped hair, “His development is a lot faster than a normal childs. He’s only about seven months old but he compares to children almost twice that, but even then he’s much stronger.”

“Can I hold him?” He seems unsure of himself but you happily hand him over.

Bucky extends his fingers to Andrew in his lap. Andy curiously takes two in his small hands and you flinch, knowing how tight his grip can get. Bucky watches him, unfazed by the ridiculous strength. He holds Andrew close to him for a few minutes before Andrew tries to climb back to you.

“You’re both coming back to the compound.” Bucky stands up.

“Like hell we are! This is our home. This is where we’re safe. And I won’t let you feel obligated to take me back because we have a baby.”

He gives you a serious look, “Bullshit. That ring on your finger says you’re still mine. And in what world is this safer than the compound? An alien broke in tonight!”

Before you knew it you were in the quinjet headed back to the base. Bucky never let you out of his sight. On the bright side, the ride provided plenty of time for apologies. Neither of you were happy with the others choices but you could understand them and move past them.

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x single mom #bucky one shot #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky angst #bucky fluff

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cowboy-eddie · 4 years ago

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Tumblr Exclusive: Hen, Eddie and Get to Know You

It hits Hen at 1am in the morning, randomly, laying next to Karen, that she wouldn’t rely on Eddie to save her life. Not because he isn’t reliable, not because he isn’t skilled, but just because... she doesn’t know him very well. Sure, their kids have play dates and they work together in the field sometimes on medical cases, but other than that what does she know about him, and what does he know about her?

Rolling on to her side, away from Karen so she doesn’t wake her, she shoots a text to Chim because he’s probably the only person she could talk to about this.

Hen: what’s Eddie’s favourite colour?

Chim: what the fuck kinda question is that?

Chim: and it’s 1am

Chim: ask Buck

But that’s just the thing; Hen doesn’t want to ask Buck and dismiss it. She wants to know for herself. Endeavouring to ask him the next time he’s on shift, she put her phone down and rolled over. As sleep came to her, she tried to think about what she wanted to ask Eddie. Maybe he had a favourite TV show, or a favourite sport. Did Buck mention baseball? He definitely mentioned baseball...

~~~

“Hey, Eddie, what’s your favourite colour?”

His brows furrowed in confusion as he put down his fork.

“My favourite... colour?”

Everyone else was suddenly intrigued too, Chim leaning over to Buck who turned to whisper back.

“Well, yeah. I know Buck’s is red, Chim thinks it’s stupid to have a favourite colour, and Bobby-“

“-leave Bobby out of this conversation,” Bobby said, mid-mouthful of pancake. Eddie shrugged.

“I dunno... I don’t have one, I guess. Christopher’s is green, so... green?”

“Dude, it’s blue. You literally always gravitate toward blue,” Buck said and Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, so I guess it’s blue.”

“What about your favourite sport? Is it baseball?”

“No, Hen, he’s a Hockey guy.”

Buck butted in again and Bobby was suddenly interested. Glancing between Hen and Eddie, he cocked an eyebrow.

“Why the interrogation, Hen?”

“I just... feel like I don’t know Eddie very well.”

“Yeah, well, the feeling’s mutual,” he huffed, clearly uncomfortable with being questioned, and Hen immediately back off.

“I’m sorry, Eddie, I didn’t mean to-“

“-no, it’s... it’s fine.”

And they leave it at that, Bobby frowning at Hen as if to say “did you break him?” Before turning back to his pancakes.

~~~

Later, on a call, Hen watched Eddie roll out a hose. He was methodical and efficient, but his knee on his left side was a little weak and if he leaned on that side he almost missed his step. Buck, of course, was glued to his side as usual and seemed to be working the hose as well, or maybe flirting. Whatever.

“Hen. Put Eddie down.”

“What?”

Hen turned toward Chim and he took the blood pressure cuff off his patient, patting his shoulder.

“Looks good. Probably just a panic-induced reaction. I do want to get you to hospital just in case.”

“Yes sir.”

The guy let Chim lie him on the gurney inside the ambulance and shut the door. Chimney, hands on his hips, cocked an eyebrow.

“Why the sudden obsession with Eddie? You in love with him?”

“I’m married, to a woman, with two beautiful children. Or did you forget, Chimney?”

“My bad. But seriously, you need to stop staring at him. You’re gonna make him take stress leave.”

“I told you! I feel like I don’t know him. How stupid is that; this guy is one of our best and I feel like I barely know him past Christopher.”

Chimney shrugged.

“It’s always been you and me, Buck and Eddie, and Bobby. It’s just the way things worked out.”

“I can still talk to Buck, though, and ask him how therapy’s going, ask him personal things. Can you imagine what would happen if I asked Eddie something like that?”

“Oh, I can, and I can tell you right now it would not end well. How about we stop staring him down, and take this poor guy to the hospital before he thinks we forgot?”

“Fine.”

Hen climbed into the ambulance, radioing into dispatch to alert the hospital they were on their way there.

~~~

“Hey, Eddie, what happened to your knee? If you don’t mind me asking?”

Eddie sighed, putting down the clipboard he’d just pried off Buck.

“I dislocated it a few years ago. Went to physical therapy and everything but it never quite bounced back.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks for telling me.”

Hen went to walk away, when Eddie called out.

“Hey, Hen- what’s your mom’s name?”

And Hen smiled. Of course Eddie got it.

“It’s Antonia- Toni, if you want to be on her good side.”

“I better stick with Toni then.”

He disappeared into the locker room then, and Hen blinked before heading back upstairs.

~~~

It carried on like this for the rest of shift- Hen would ask Eddie a random question, and then an hour or so later he would approach with one of his own. It got to the point that they were asking about each other’s families as well now; Hen knew Eddie had sisters, but she hadn’t known he was the youngest of the three of them. Eddie was aware Hen didn’t have siblings, but he had no idea her father abandoned her so young. She finds out his favourite food is his grandmother’s Tamales, and he discovered that she loved cheeseburgers but only when Buck orders them, because he always remembers to double the ketchup.

Meanwhile, the other three watched this go on between calls. Buck crossed his arms, but he wasn’t pissed- if anything he was pleased.

“Fucking finally,” he murmured, Chim and Bobby looking to him with confusion. Buck shrugged.

“I always felt like those two just didn’t quite click, not in a mean way or anything, but more along the lines of no shared interests.”

“They’re bonding over their love of hockey I think,” Chim said, watching over the rail into the truck bays. Bobby just shrugged.

“As long as they’re getting along. It’s good to see Eddie opening up a little.”

“Amen,” Chim and Buck said simultaneously. The alarm began blaring and everyone leapt into action.

~~~

“Hey, Hen, can I ask you something?”

“If it’s my favourite cheese, you can bribe me easily with Brie,” Hen joked, head in the ambulance as she restocked it. Eddie shifted.

“No, it’s a little more, uh- why today?”

“What do you mean- oh. Oh!”

Hen stopped throwing things in the cupboards, taking a seat on the edge of the ambulance. Eddie sat too and she realised he was trying to trust her.

“Well, it’s kind of- kind of stupid, actually. I was lying in bed and it was 1am and apparently I was kind of delirious, because I- for half a second... I felt like I couldn’t trust you with my life.”

Eddie’s face hardened, walls going up, but Hen darted to grab his arm.

“I was wrong! I was wrong. You’re a skilled firefighter, and you’re unstoppable on scene, but I just- I felt like I didn’t know you very well. I decided to change that. I wanted to change that.”

His face screwed up, like he’d eaten something bad, before he shrugged.

“Cool.”

And that was it. Off he went, probably to find Buck. Those two were inseparable in the best of times, let alone when either of them were feeling vulnerable.

~~~

The next call they were on, Chim was tied down with a patient and Hen could tell she needed help. She turned her head, about to yell when she felt Eddie appeared behind her like he’d known and she grinned at him.

“Grab the stethoscope.”

“Got it.”

And they worked in unison. For the first time she felt like he had her back and she had his. They smiled at each other, focusing on helping their patient. When the patient had been loaded into the ambulance, Eddie cleared his throat and looked to Hen.

“Hey, uh, I think we know each other better than we think.”

“I think you should go and kiss Buck, but I hope to god you already know that.”

“Oh my god, Hen,” Eddie choked, but he was laughing so Hen figured he wasn’t pissed and about to close off to her. Nudging his shoulder, she gestured to their patient.

“Ride with me? I might need you to stay in the back.”

“Sure thing.”

Hen turned and yelled to Chim that she had to get to the hospital and he went to climb into the ambulance when Eddie beat him and Chim pouted. Buck appeared beside him, a frown on his face.

“Did they just-“

“Eddie stole my best friend,” Chim huffed. Buck snorted.

“If it makes you feel any better, Hen stole my boyfriend.”

“Buck.”

#Eddie Diaz #Evan Buckley #Henrietta Wilson #Hen Wilson #Bobby Nash #Chimney Han #Chim #911 #911 on fox #buck #9-1-1 #911 fox #evan buckley #hen wilson

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sazc94 · 4 years ago

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The Three Times James "Bucky" Barnes Broke your heart.

This was inspired by @msmarvelwrites 2k Writing Challenge because I'm a sucker for Taylor Swift especially sad Taylor Vibes. I chose the all too well lyrics.

Apparently, I can't do anything small so it's in two parts. Pairs Bucky x Reader and Pietro x Reader. (Not at the same time)

Part 1 Here

No smut but mentions of sex so 18+ Themes: highschool, cheating, college/uni. Friendship

Words 3368 it's Suburban AU.

2015 You finished up Uni staring in the school's production of Rock of Ages, Playing Sherry opposite Loki’s drew. Loki also moved to New York staying with his half brother Thor Oddinson. You stayed in touch with Loki and Pietro. The thing that took you by surprise however was six months after moving to Detroit, whilst working for Bruce Banner's start-up you received a DM on Instagram from Bucky. He heard from Sam and Jane that you were now living in Detroit and he was moving to the area after being scouted by the Detroit Lions. Hey Y/N, I hope you’re good. I know this is random and please feel free to tell me where to go, but I was wondering if you wanted to get a drink sometime? It would be great to see you again and catch up. Let me know. So you replied feeling like maybe after all this time it might be good to finally hear Bucky’s apology. Pietro and you had stayed in touch but you knew he was dating someone else. Her name was Sue Storm, she seemed like a nice girl, very smart and could easily give Pietro a run for his money. After hearing Bucky’s apology, you two started to become friends again, he invited you along to his games always offering to secure you two tickets if you wanted to bring someone. He was a machine on the football field, earning the strange nickname The Winter Soldier.

2016

Everything changed in the summer of 2016 though when Bucky’s mother passed away suddenly in June. She had practically helped raise you, so you attended the funeral with Bucky. You stayed with him in the guest room in his childhood house, helping him sort through belongings and paperwork. Bucky’s dad had died when you were 8 and Bucky like you was an only child. You took in food from neighbours wanting to pay their respects. You held his hand squeezing it in comfort during the funeral, assuring him you were there for him. Two days after the funeral you and Bucky had finished packing up the final boxes, you were upstairs, and he was downstairs being awfully quiet. You went looking for him only to find him sat on the living room floor. He was crying holding a picture of you and him one Halloween when you were 9, Bucky had gone as Superman and you as Supergirl. Your mums stood behind you, both of them chuckling whilst you and bucky tried to out pose one another. Your heart swelled. Your Grandad had died in November and god how your heart had ached, but to lose your mum, you couldn’t even begin to imagine. “Hey, hey. It's alright I’m here Buck”, you said cradling his head to your chest whilst he sobbed. You stayed like that for an unidentifiable amount of time before Bucky’s crying eased. He looked up at you blinking away the stray tears, the familiar blue in his eyes pulling you in. Your not sure who kissed who first but that was how you and Bucky ended up sleeping together.

You and Bucky officially got back together in July. Your Grandma passed away in September, the start of football season. Bucky was unable to attend the funeral, he tried god he tried. Pietro made it though. He and Sue had broken up not that he told you. By the time November rolled around things were good between you and Bucky. Wanda’s fashion label Scarlett Witch was taking off and she invited you and Bucky out to join the rest of the old gang at the official launch in December of 2016. You accepted and for the pair of you assuring Bucky, there would be no awkwardness. Pietro was casually dating and was bringing a date called Crystal.

You arrived at the party in NYC completely blown away. Wanda had asked you to wear a piece from the evening wear collection, a Black strapless dress, the top if form-fitting made from chiffon fabric, the skirt cut out the front made of black tulle sparkled with the touches of glitter. It felt like you were wearing the Milky Way. After stopping to pose for photos for the press you made your way inside. The party was being held inside a beautiful gothic building. “Y/n! You look absolutely amazing, thank you so much for wearing this and of course for coming” Wanda practically pounced on you the minute she spotted you. “Bunny! I agree absolutely amazing. Bucky, you don’t look too bad yourself” Pietro said kissing you on the cheek. Pietro was wearing a deep blue suit, it made his hair and ice-blue eyes pop. Bucky had opted for the simple black tux to match you and your dress. He almost looked good enough to eat. After grabbing a glass of champagne, Wanda and Pietro took you to the rest of the gang who had made it. Jane was here with a date, Thor Oddinson you recognised him from the few times he had been to see you and Loki in shows. Carol was here too. Peter Parker was working the event as a photographer he had brought a date a lovely young lady called Mary Jane Watson. After about 45 minutes of schmoozing and catching up, you went to the ladies room. When you exited you were a little taken aback by the sight that confronted you, a redhead was hanging of Bucky’s arm chuckling away with Thor and Jane. You could only see the back of her from where you were standing. You decided to walk over and introduce yourself. However, when you got closer to the group the woman started to look vaguely familiar.

“Hey babe,” Bucky said as you approached quickly removing his arm from the redhead. Babe. That was weird he never called you babe. His blue eyes looked like they were hiding something. “Lady Y/N. This is Lady Natasha” Thor said introducing you. The redhead turned to shake your hand smiling at you with a knowing look. “Lovely to finally meet the infamous Y/N,” she said. “I told Bucky how disappointed I was not to meet you when I was in the City in September. I’m so sorry to hear about the passing of your grandmother. Bucky kept me company whilst I was around on some Business” her voice sounded harmless, sweet and pleasant. Genuine. Her eyes and knowing smirk told a different story. Bucky looked at you, the familiar betrayal in his eyes, pleading with you. “I was just telling Bucky, I’ve been offered this amazing opportunity in Detroit so Ill be moving there in February, isn’t that wonderful?” she asked. You smiled taking a swig of your champagne. Jane looked at you, then Bucky. You shook your head.

That was the second time Bucky Barnes broke your heart. He assured you that they hadn’t slept together, however had admitted that he had kept her visit from you and that she had kissed him. “Did you kiss her back?” you asked pacing around your hotel room. “Doll, please what does it matter,” he asked reaching out for you. His calloused hands once again burning your skin with his betrayal. The fact he had chosen not to answer was all the confirmation you needed. You had left him in the hotel room. Loki had been unable to make the event due to being in a small play off-Broadway, but you had texted him asking if he wanted to get a drink. You had told him everything and he had walked you back to your hotel room. You were drunk and distressed. Bucky had opened the door his blue eyes flashing with jealousy when the handsome black-haired gentleman had his arms around you. “Easy James, if anything was going to have happened between us, it would have happened in freshman year of college,” Loki said helping you into your room. After you and Bucky returned to Detroit you guys took a break for a few months.

2017

Natasha’s job conveniently happened to be working as a fitness instructor at the Detroit Lions. After 4 months you and Bucky got back together in March of 2017. Things were going great, Natasha seemed to have released whatever hold she had on Bucky. Bucky was performing well with the Lions, his new teammate, Steve Rogers nicknamed Captain America seemed to have caught the eye of many ladies including Natasha. He however didn’t seem that interested in her and had his sights set on a girl from his home in Brooklyn her name was Peggy. Steve and you hit off due to your mutual disinterest in Miss Romanoff, he had come up with a nickname for her, he called her Black Widow because she seemed to devour the men in her life. Banners start-up tech company had taken off with thanks to your ad campaigns. You were also performing in the local summer show of Mamma Mia playing Sophie. In the summer of 17, Peggy Carter came to visit Steve, turned out she was from Britain originally. You liked Peggy and her no-nonsense approach. During July, the four of you went on lots of double dates like you were high schoolers again. For Steve’s birthday which happened to be the fourth of July, the four of you attended an event being put on by the Detroit lions. You had a great evening mixing with various teammates and their families. You even warmed to Natasha a bit that afternoon.

As the evening rolled around a giant cake was brought out to celebrate Steve’s birthday. Followed by a firework show. Everyone made their way to various blankets and cushions set out at the opposite end of the stadium. Somewhere along the way you and Bucky got separated. You didn’t worry too much, to begin with as you’d both drifted off to interact with various people throughout the event, however by the time the fireworks started Bucky was nowhere to be seen. You started to think the worst until you spotted Natasha’s red hair on the other side of the stadium flirting with a gaggle of players from various other teams who were invited. Confident Bucky would return shortly you turned your attention to the sky watching with a goofy grin, things were finally settled between you and Bucky. As the fireworks went on you decided to snap a few shots on your phone loving the way the sky lit up with bright colours. The Detroit Lions didn’t do things in small doses, so the firework display ended up going on for about an hour and a half. After about 45 minutes Bucky returned from wherever he had been slipping down behind you pulling your back flush to his chest. He stroked small circles on your arms. His rough calloused skin making you shiver from the contact.

In September you were approached by Tony Stark’s PA Pepper Potts, they had seen your campaigns for Bruce Banner and Tony was interested in headhunting you. Your contract with Bruce was up in October. You initially shot the idea down. Why would you want to leave Michigan? Your family home was a short 20-minute drive away, Bucky was doing well with the Lions. Peggy Carter was moving here after Steve had proposed at the end of Summer. It seemed ludicrous. After initially shooting down the offer. Pepper contacted you, doubling their initial offer. The offer was tempting, so you told Miss Potts you would think it over the weekend. There was no harm in bringing it up with Bucky, maybe a move would do you both good, Natasha seemed to have gotten under Bucky’s skin again. You left the office early that day. You didn’t bother to text Bucky figuring you could surprise him when he got home from training with a home-cooked meal. You stopped off to get some supplies to make Lasagne before heading over to his apartment figuring you could just let yourself in. You had called Wanda on the drive over through your cars Bluetooth. She and Vision were engaged, and she wanted you to be one of her bridesmaids. Partway through the call, Pietro had walked into Wanda’s office so you had told them both about the job offer. When you got to Bucky’s you immediately recognised the Black Widows black Mercedes. “huh, that’s weird, I wonder what she’s doing here,” you said out loud “who’s where?” asked Wanda. “oh um nothing, look I got to go I just got to Buck’s and I’m cooking dinner, going to talk to him about Tony’s offer,” you said before hanging up. You were so blind-sighted by Natasha’s car you didn’t clock Bucky’s Motorcycle parked in the corner of the small parking lot. You grabbed your bags walking up to Bucky’s figuring that you could invite Natasha in if need be whilst you waited for Buck to come home.

If you had noticed Bucky’s bike, then just maybe you would have been more prepared for the following events you unlocked Bucky’s apartment and you found clothes strewn everywhere, his jeans. A white Blouse. His boxer trunks. A Black lacy bra, that definitely didn’t belong to you. At first, you were so shocked by what you saw that you didn’t hear the moans coming from the bedroom. It was like you were possessed you carried your bag of groceries as you walked in a daze to the bedroom, you opened the door and found Bucky once again cheating on you. He and Natasha were in the throws of fucking each other, you found Natasha with her back to you, wrapped around Bucky’s waist. Bucky sat upright facing you however his eyes closed whilst he drank in the pleasure. You felt your heartbreak as you dropped your bag of groceries. The bag made a thud as it hit the ground, alerting Bucky to your presence. His eyes flew open connecting with yours. Natasha however didn’t stop riding your boyfriend’s cock. Bucky tried to push her off him, but you were already storming out the door. You grabbed your bag and left Bucky’s spare key in the door. Bucky grabbed a pair of joggers and slippers before chasing after you. Bucky’s apartment was on the second floor. All the apartments on the second floor opened outside to a walkway.

“Really James?!?” you turned round to face him before he could even say your name. “Was once not enough? Did you not hurt me enough the first time?” You asked. You could feel the anger threatening to burst in the way of tears. Bucky went to speak, his blue eyes once again filled with guilt. “How long?!” you asked quietly. Bucky moved towards you tugging on your wrist. “Come on Y/N, come back inside it’s starting to rain, we can discuss this inside,” he said, his eyes pleading with you. At that moment Natasha appeared in Bucky’s open doorway. She looked pleased with herself, wearing Buck’s shirt. The site made you want to vomit. “How. Long?!” you asked again through gritted teeth. Bucky faltered. “Since July. Since the 4th of July event,” he admitted rubbing his hand over his face. At that moment you felt completely and utterly broken. “I’m done, James. Do you hear me? I am done. We are through. You two.” You pointed to Natasha. “You two are welcome to one another”. That was the third time Bucky broke your heart.

You took the job working for Stark Industries. Your contract had ended with Bruce but your lease on your apartment was up until January so you stayed working for him until December of 2017 You said your goodbyes to Steve and Peggy in January and moved across the country to your new life in the big apple.

December 2018

The unknown number flashed up on your phone for the third time that day. You sighed before answering it. “Hello, Y/N Speaking how can I help?” you asked fiddling with your jumper. “Hey Doll, it's me. Don’t hang up.” Your breath caught in your throat. James Buchanan Barnes. You hadn’t spoken to him in over a year. He hadn’t even attempted to reach out to you after you split up mailing your things back to you, well all but a scarf. In January shortly before you’d moved to NYC you’d seen a magazine article saying the Winter Soldier was dating Natasha Romanoff. It confirmed what you already knew deep down, which was that you might be okay but you were not fine at all.

You’d worked so hard to forget about him long enough to forget why you needed to. He had better have a damn good reason for calling you. “You have 5 minutes,” You said getting up from the sofa you were sat on. “look, I know I fucked up with you. In more than one way on more than one occasion. I think it was the pressure to be the perfect couple, you know lifelong friends to more. And well I guess I just freaked out, and then I fell for her, but she didn’t want me, and when you gave us another shot, I thought I could convince myself to love you the way I did her, the way you had loved me. But truth be told, it was always Natasha after that summer. I know you deserve better, and I truly am sorry for hurting your doll. But I wanted you to hear it from me before you read about it in the news. She’s pregnant and also, we’re getting married.” Bucky said. You stood in the middle of the apartment stunned. “So, you call me up again, just to break me like a promise. So casually cruel in the name of being honest?” you whispered. Squeezing back the tears. “Well fuck you, James.” With that, you hung up. Of course, Bucky tried to ring right back, you declined the call, falling to your knees in pain. You had never asked for any of this, you had been quite happy being Bucky’s best girl as his friend. He was the one who kissed you at that prom.

You weren’t still in love with Bucky, you had moved on, forgetting about him and the pain he caused you. He hadn’t needed to call you, he could have given you a heads up through one of your mutual friends, but no. he had to go and stick the knife in. After lying there like a crumpled-up piece of paper and letting the tears fall. You picked yourself up. You washed your face and made yourself a mug of hot chocolate grabbing a Christmas cookie from the tin before making your way over to the bay window. You sat down taking in the view. The traffic had eased off a bit as things wound down for the evening. The snow had been falling pretty much all day. After about 15 minutes of sitting peacefully the key in the lock turned. You didn’t move you were incredibly content where you were, even if you could use a refill in the hot chocolate department.

“Hey handsome how was your day?” you asked not taking your eyes away from the street below. A group of kids were throwing snowballs at one another. You smiled to yourself enjoying their innocence. “It was good, busy” he replied taking off his coat and walking over to join you at the window seat. Wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. “How about you Bunny? I saw a news alert. I’m guessing you know about the engagement?” he asked. You hummed a response. Before shuffling yourself around to face him. His floppy silver-blonde hair covering those beautiful ice blue eyes, they looked at you with such love and endearment, they also spoke a silent promise that he would never hurt you the way that Bucky had. You kissed him gently on the lips before standing up. “Come on Quicksilver let's shower before the Stark Christmas Gala,” you said pulling your boyfriend along behind you shooting him a knowing grin. His nickname may be Quicksilver for athletic reasons but there were some things he liked to take his time with.

A/N If you stuck with me through all this, I am truly sorry. I'm gonna go cry

Tagging the bestie @lannycleave

#bucky x reader #pietro x reader #avengers au #marvel #marvel au #avengers fanfiction #𝐦𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬𝟐𝐤 #bucky barnes fluff #pietro #pietro fluff #bucky barnes #pietro fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction

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gohyuck · 4 years ago

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all that glitters (mark lee) teaser

pairing: rich!mark lee x rich!reader

genre: angst to fluff

warnings (in teaser): rich people, neglectful parents, mention of deceased pet and said deceased pet’s grave, descriptions of a panic attack

teaser length: 988

fic length: 5-6k

commissioned: yes

When Mark had been younger, he’d always wanted a pet.

His aunt had raised his cousins alongside a beautiful chocolate lab named Fudge, a sweet, playful dog that had taken to Mark just as much as she’d taken to her own masters. Many of the times Fudge had gently nuzzled a toddler Mark, making the young boy squeal, or the moments where Fudge had patiently nudged Mark off of her as the human menace had unknowingly pulled her ears or tail had all been recorded for posterity on VHS camcorders. The tapes themselves are currently collecting dust in a shoebox under Mark’s bed.

At age 7, when a shy Mark had gone to Donghyuck and Jeno’s house from school, his own house locked as his parents worked and him being too afraid to play with the other kids his age, he’d played catch with Fudge and his little cousins for hours on end. At age 10, when Mark’s grandmother had unexpectedly passed away, Fudge’s fur had soaked his tears in, night in and night out. At age 12, when he’d been petsitting for his cousins, Fudge had run into the pretty neighbor girl’s yard, forcing Mark to finally talk to you for once rather than stare at you from across your gardens.

Fudge had died three weeks after Mark’s 15th birthday. This time, it’d been your shirt that had taken in all of his tears, your hand gently running through his hair as he bawled his eyes - and heart - out into your chest. It’d been you that’d suggested burying Fudge in the woods near the cliff that overlooked your city, and it’d been you that’d managed the impossible and convinced Mark’s parents to let him skip a flute lesson to help bury the dog he so truly and deeply loved.

Mark’s parents had never gotten him a pet, going so far as to cite his devastation over Fudge as reason enough for him not to get a dog after her passing. What they had gotten him, though, at age 16, was a Suzuki AEM Carbon Fiber Hayabusa and the okay to get a motorcycle license instead of a standard driver’s license. Mark had taken one look at the price tag - a clean $200,000, deal made via private dealer - and decided then and there that he’d never ask his parents for anything again.

To be fair, he hadn’t necessarily wanted the bike, either. It’d simply been a happy surprise. What he’d actually asked for - and had never gotten - was to be able to spend his birthday with both of his parents. They’d both sent regretful texts to him at the same time, two hours after he’d asked them each individually: two different variations of ‘I’ve got work, love, I’m sorry but I swear I’ll make it up to you!’

They were both high up enough in their respective jobs to be able to choose when to take days off. Mark had always suspected where he lay in terms of priority. His parents had just confirmed it that day.

Therein, Mark supposes as he stares down at Fudge’s makeshift grave, hammered-together cross as a gravemarker and all, is the true reason he hasn’t asked either of them for jackshit since he turned 16. He’s currently looking at the grave of the only entity that’d ever lived that truly gave a damn about him.

This is a lie. He knows it the moment it surfaces in his mind. He has his cousins, his aunt and uncle, his friends both from late childhood and college. His parents have love for him too, he’s sure, even if they’re damn awful at showing it. The real issue, at least at hand, is the question of you and how much you care about him.

God, he’s fucked up. He tells Fudge so.

“God, I’ve fucked up,” Mark murmurs, voice hoarse from not having spoken in hours. He’d been driving around for hours, only stopping to fuel - and think - after his discussion with you about 10 minutes out from Fudge’s grave. It’d been then that he’d realized how disheveled he must look - Mark had only thrown his black leather jacket over what he’d been wearing at home, not sparing you a second glance as he’d gotten out of a situation he could not stand to stay in any longer. The few minutes spent fueling had felt like an hour then, weighing down harder and harder on Mark’s shoulders the longer time passed.

Now as the wind whips at his face - his helmet is slung over the handlebar, and his bike is parked a few meters back so it’s at a safe enough distance away from the steep drop of the cliff - he wishes he’d at least thought to grab a scarf, or something. The Brunello Cucinelli suit he’s got on may look warm, but it isn’t. He is not dressed in a way that’s suited for the weather.

Still, he has to be here. He has to tell someone how he feels, why he does what he does and says what he says. He has to be understood... But he thought you understood him? You had understood him once, right? What’s changed? Why don’t you -

It’s sudden in the way these things are. Mark’s breath gets punched out of him, and it’s as if his tears have an agenda of their own. He’s gasping for air before he realizes he’s doing so, and the water that drips down his cheeks is flung back towards him before he gains the presence of mind to turn away from the wind. It’s as if his lungs are too small and his chest is too big, and for a moment, Mark fears that it’ll always be like this. That this is his life now. He doubles over, staying there for a moment before letting out the kind of groan that could wake the dead and sinking to his knees.

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

#first #five #tags #don’t #mark lee fluff #work #mark lee #mark lee angst #mark lee scenarios #mark lee scenario

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reidecorating · 4 years ago

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Like Ivy

Request: “Being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me.” and “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you.” I’m thinking something Christmas-y with Reid - Anon

A/N: I do apologise for procrastinating on getting this out, but I wanted to make sure it wasn’t terrible. Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it, my present to you is the longest fic I have ever written. I had so much fun writing it so I hope you guys enjoy reading it! Happy holidays <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAUFem!Reader

Word Count: 7.7k

Summary: Best friends yearning & best friends pining - but make it festive. Entails Secret Santa, the classic penny behind the ear and waltzing.

Warnings: Fluff, proceed with caution :)

The Cathedral of Santa Maria. Spencer had finally put his finger on it. The small glass dome encasing a building, with doors small enough to allow entrance to ladybugs who may practice religion, adorned unmistakable timely Italian architecture and ornamented pine trees, all dusted with flitters of snow. For the past week, Spencer had caught sight of the trinket each time he wandered past where it sat, as one of the few other decorations surrounding the name plate displaying in gold Times New Roman ‘DAVID ROSSI’, on the often unoccupied desk. So, he gathered that it must be important. Filing away his final stack of paperwork for the night, a silver paperclip glistening in the artificial light, Spencer made a mental note to ask the man about it the next morning. Standing from his usual office chair slouch, he stretched his limbs, feeling a series of clicks in his back as he regained his posture, only to bend back down in reach of his satchel. He made his way home giving tight lipped smiles of encouragement to the few agents sprinkled about the room, working over time. Haphazardly, he pushed the arrow pointing downwards with a cardigan clad elbow. As if on queue, his phone buzzed to the simultaneous ‘ding’ of the lift.

I understand you’re nocturnal, but I hope you’ve gotten home by now! If not, text me when you do so, safely :)

He didn’t realise he was grinning from ear to ear until an aggravated looking bureau member from a floor above, evidently itching to get home, cleared his throat to gain Spencer’s attention. “Sorry,” he grimaced. Noticing the button for the ground floor having already been lit up, Spencer stepped inside and stood as far away, as was possible in the small space, from the rankled looking man and his briefcase. A dimple appeared on his cheek as he remembered you, two years, three months and seventeen days ago - not that he was counting - offering him cherry scented hand sanitiser from a small bottle, and, only after he’d nodded, gently grasping the tips of his fingers to steady his shaking hand as you poured the gelid liquid into his palm. The act was so pure he chose against telling you that while alcohol based hand sanitisers reduce the number of microbes on hands in some situations, they don’t eliminate all types of germs - making soap and water the most effective way to go. Since then, you occupied his thoughts in the same way ivy grew along bricks of long forgotten towers. In abundance, in the most beautiful way. He turned his attention back to the tiny mobile he was holding.

On my way right now. I have a date with microwaved leftovers at midnight, can’t miss it. Will do.

The next time his phone buzzed was when he’d dozed off on the way home, using the concave pane of a metro window as a shoulder to lean against. He waited until his feet landed on the uneven pavement of his stop to open it.

Tomorrow you have a date with a properly cooked meal, at mine. What is it that Hotch always says? That’s an order, not a request.

Spencer’s heartbeat quickened as he read what you had written, his brain immediately carrying variables in an effort to slow it down by convincing himself that friends make each other feel this way. However, when he counted the rose flush on his cheeks and nose whenever you were around, the looks you shared which said more than words ever could and the way you held each other nearer than the distance between the sky and the ocean where they met at the horizon after close calls and mentally grappling cases, it didn’t quite equate to being just friends. Dwindling leaves clinging to their branches shuddered as scissors of winter wind pruned the trees scattered about. Spencer’s pale hands slid into his coat pockets, hiding from frostbite. On the short walk to his apartment, he admired the twinkling lights on either side of the streets, feeling as if he were a plane which had just landed upon a runway in the night. Candy canes, reindeer and eccentric portrayals of Santa Claus glowed amongst bushes and on porches, making Spencer wish you were there to see them too. It wasn’t rare he found himself wanting to share everything he did with you. Pretty things made him think of you. Eventually reaching the familiar building, tiredly, he followed wreaths and holly all the way to his undecorated apartment door.

You? Cooking? I’ll bring a fire extinguisher. Home safe. Goodnight, sleep well.

He kept his promise, despite seeing the time was nearing to one in the morning and being doubtful you were still awake.

Hilarious :/ and I will, knowing you’re alive. Goodnight Spencer :)

Spencer coveted for nights when he could tell you goodnight from right beside you, perhaps with his hand draped around your waist while yours tugged at his hair. He wanted to fall asleep to the scent of your skin and whatever soap you’d picked up from the store that week, not the quiet hum of his vintage fan. His microwave beeped, acting as an alarm to return down to earth from the clouds, presenting him with far less than gourmet potatoes. Realising he would take your burnt cooking over this any day, he settled for a sandwich.

∗∗∗

“Did you know that snowglobes were invented in France. They were first introduced as ‘water globes’ at the Paris Expedition Fair in 1889, and, to no surprise, the first snow globe actually contained a tiny scaled Eiffel Tower covered in snow,” Spencer lectured, almost putting the two agents who had struggled enough to get out of bed, back to sleep. The days were slow. Annual leave for a majority of the bureau was looming nearer and files kept them busy as the jet gathered dust. “Glad to hear the French contributed something, other than their opprobrium of a language, to this world,” Emily complained, from her desk. “Well, baguettes… Croissants, parachutes… Aspirin-“ Spencer was halted by the unimpressed look on Rossi’s face, as he hovered on the edge of Spencer’s table, a bushy eyebrow raised in vexation. “What’s with all this talk of snowglobes, kid?” The older man squinted at Spencer, craning his neck towards this, the way he did to suspects behind the glass of an interrogation room. “Since you brought it up,” he smiled smugly, swivelling in his chair from one side to another. “What’s the story behind the Santa Maria sitting on your desk?”

“Yeah, the eighties have come and gone, Rossi, isn’t it a bit late for repentance?” Emily let out a sly smile, walking over to also lean against Spencer’s desk with a steaming mug in hand. “It was a gift from my grandmother, handmade, I take it out every Christmas to help get in the festive mood,” Rossi explained. “Also, that was very funny Emily but now… I can’t help but recall what Garcia told me about the time you got a little tipsy and licked peanut butter off J-”

“No one told me it was National Congregate Around Spencer Reid’s Desk Day today.” The three agents turned their heads in unison to find who the voice belonged to, Spencer’s breath hitching at the sight of you. You stood before them, an upturned magician’s hat in hand, semi-curious as to what the ending of Rossi’s sentence would have been if it weren’t for you interrupting. “Y/N!” Emily waved, flashing a smile. “You’ve taken an interest in magic and didn’t even think to tell me,” Spencer feigned a hurt look. “Spencer, I knew magic wasn’t for me after I did the card trick you taught me, wrong . Six times,”

“It was seven. Plus, the student is never as good as the teacher,” he suppressed a smile. “Or maybe the teacher just isn’t good,” you raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s a little hostile, someone didn’t get enough sleep last night,” Spencer defended himself, putting his hands in the air. His eyes held a glimmer of mischief as if to say ‘we know something that you don’t’ when they met yours. Emily’s jaw dropped. “That… Didn’t sound suggestive at all,” Rossi pursed his lips in concern, looking back and forth between the pair of furiously blushing agents. “Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t,” you winked at Rossi. Basking in the radiance of your laughter washing over him like the sun, Spencer chuckled along. “Anyway, what’s with the hat?” Emily questioned. “This,” you shook it by its brim, “contains the remaining names for this year’s Secret Santa, courtesy of Miss Penelope Garcia. I was just ordered to present it to you all. She calls it being her ‘little elf’ - I call it unpaid manual labour - but pick a name, any name,” you encouraged. You watched as Spencer’s tongue comically poked out as he eagerly concentrated on picking a name, elbow bent at a worrying angle. “I just want to say that every time I get a gift that isn’t alcohol, I’m slightly disappointed,” Emily turned to you as it was her turn to fish for a piece of paper. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you grinned at her. You watched Rossi’s expression as his eyes skimmed the name in his hands. “Oh, and Rossi, yes, there’s a budget,” you called over your shoulder, causing them to laugh as you gave them a wave. Slinking away from the comity of the bullpen, back to Mrs Claus’ lair, you retrieved the only remaining name. You paused in the hallway to double check if you’d read the glittery scrawl correctly. Spencer Reid. It was just your luck. You were prepared to engage in hand to hand combat with Garcia, seeing her office looming ahead. “Penelope. I hate you. I love you,” you kissed her cheek, placing the top hat on her curls, “but I hate you.” She recognised the tone, beaming at the implications. “Thank me later, beautiful!” She called after you as you rushed away to get started on completing the mountains of reports you had been avoiding thus far.

The day had come to a close, a headache making a home for itself in your head. Scanning the, now, mostly empty room, you caught sight of the back of Spencer’s uncombed head. Double checking that not enough people were around to be reprimanded by HR for misconduct, you inconspicuously made your way over to him snaking your arms around his neck and burrowing your nose in its crook. “Hi,” he chuckled, amused at the sudden affection, his unoccupied hand immediately reaching to grasp one of your wrists. Spencer had followed your strict, but coffee induced, orders earlier that morning telling him not to distract you unless, one, he was dying, or two, something was on fire, because you were determined to finish the numerous write-ups you had left until today. “Hi,” you mumbled into him. “Ready to go home?” You asked sweetly, arms still slung around him, pulling your face away to get a glimpse of his soft features. Your heart stopped for a little while, at the beauty of him. He was breathtaking. You refrained from tracing the small bump of his nose with your own, and settled for admiring the five o’clock shadow presaging a hidden jaw. The part of Spencer that craved domesticity was enchanted by your simple question, the word home resounding in his head, acting as an old film reel for projections of images of the two of you together; leaving work together, going home together. Little did he know that, as if through an unnoticed telepathy, just a few inches away, the same images occupied your own head. Coming home to an empty apartment had become tedious. You allowed yourself to give into your daydreams of returning home to Spencer - with Spencer. Spencer, with his warm eyes and words that drip like syrup from his tongue. You wanted nothing more than to revel in him filling your senses once the cologne from the day had been washed away, and hear him harp on about the history of mattresses, attempting to retain questions to ask him later in your memory bank, as you capitulate to sleep. “As a matter of fact, I finished most of what I had to do last night so I am ready to go… home,” he tested out the word, to which you had assigned a brand new connotation, feeling a flutter in his chest. You quickly rescinded your arms as you peripherally detected a flock of agents returning from what you assumed was an afternoon break. Spencer suddenly missed your body on his. Having already packed your things, feeling accomplished noticing that the pile of folders on your desk had shrunk significantly, you packed Spencer’s things to save him time, aimlessly throwing the strap of his satchel over his head for him once he had ungracefully shoved his arms into a blazer. “Hang on,” you gently pulled at his shoulders to meet your height, carefully fixing his tag and creased collar. The blush on his face, at the feel of your cold fingers brushing the nape of his neck, said everything he didn’t - save a meek, “Thank you.” You smiled at him in return. “Wait,” his eyes widened, “I need this,” he mumbled, reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out a large black bag, decorated in gold intricacies. He didn’t explain it, but you knew that if Spencer had something to say, he would come out and say it, just all in good time. “Now are you ready?” You eyed the thing curiously, and glanced back at him. “Let’s go,” he motioned his arms in front of him, with a small nod, letting you lead the way.

Afternoon rays of sun fought their way through clouds, battling with the winter air to warm the people mingling outside as you made your way towards the crowded station. “Penny for your thoughts?” You asked, intuitively slipping an arm through his when the sun began to disappear altogether. Your cheeks grew warm as you realised your compromising position, feeling your heart rate return to its usual pace once he relaxed into your touch. “Hm?” He turned to look at you, letting his river coloured eyes unabashedly scan your face. “You look like your mind is far away,”

“What’s on my mind is definitely not very far away,” he said, quietly. That glimmer had returned. You noticed that the crease between his brows had disappeared, indicative that whatever thoughts were rattling through his brain, were good ones. You hummed a smile, content with his contentedness. “So… Hand it over,” he extended a palm a second later. “Hand what over?” You asked, genuinely confused. “A penny,” he said as if it was obvious. You blinked up at him, unfazed by the joke, as he bit his lip provokingly. All of a sudden he stopped walking, eyes still on you. “Just… Hold on a moment,” he whispered, squinting at you as he reached a hand towards your cheek. You remained still, thinking that Spencer had finally lost his mind. “Here it is!” He exclaimed, breaking out into a smile as he retrieved a one cent coin from behind your ear. “What!? You’re kidding! That was brilliant,” you beamed at him, eyes wide in bewilderment. “For a second there I thought you had gone crazy,” you teased. “Magic does that to people,” he nodded, satisfied with how impressed you seemed. “Ah, but alas, you gave me a very ambiguous answer, so I,” you snatched the penny from his fingers, “am entitled to a refund.” Spencer shook his head with a soft smile. “You might need to use that for the bus if we miss the next train,” he informed, hurriedly examining the watch on his upturned wrist.

No trains were missed, that day, the two of you arriving at your door in time for the six o’clock news. “Here, let me take your coat,” you offered, putting it on the small rack beside the door, placing yours adjacent to it. Spencer relished in the warmth of the place, setting his things down. “So, I’m thinking we get a proper meal in us, and then you can help me decorate this dreary place,” you instructed. He wanted to let you know that anywhere you are is far from being dreary, but something told him that was far too sappy, so he settled for a simple, “Sounds good.” He took in the familiar apartment, its walls embellished in old paintings snagged from secondhand stores and books scattered about on almost every horizontal surface, in a certain disorderliness that said, yes it’s messy, but everything has its place. “Also, I hope you know that you’re only leaving in the morning so make yourself at home.” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the two of you; you falling asleep at his apartment out of feebleness, him at yours, and more often than not, it involved discarded games of Scrabble as the two of you settled for debating the rules instead of actually playing. Lately, he’d been craving it more and more - and so had you. Spencer would never say no to that offer, but he was taken aback. “But I didn’t pack- I don’t have-“

“Eidetic memory is slipping I see,” you giggled at his flustered state. “I told you, I kept finding toothbrushes, sweaters and socks here every time you left, so I made a drawer full of your things, since you practically live here anyway,”

“An entire drawer? I didn’t think I was missing a whole lot,” he responded, nose tinted red. “I have to water my plants quickly, before I put dinner on, but feel free to shower,” you said, still laughing quietly. “Let me help cook, first. You need someone to disassemble the smoke alarm,” he raised an eyebrow at you. One ‘KISS THE COOK’ apron and half an hour of seasoning a chicken, spilling sweet potatoes and bumping elbows later, the two of you stood back from the counter, you boasting to Spencer about how nothing had turned to ashes, and him pointing out that the oven hadn’t been turned on yet. Soon after, you put the oven on high, humming an indistinguishable carol over the shower that could be heard running from the next room. A warm, tingling feeling overcame you.

By the time you had showered, Spencer stood serving - a well timed and flawlessly cooked - chicken, wearing mitts matching the baggy flannel pyjamas keeping him warm on top of the open oven. “Smells good,” you complimented, slightly startling Spencer. He stood at the small wooden dining table, mouth agape at the sight of you. He was sure his heart was a puddle. “I like your sweater,” he praised. You glanced down slightly confused, shortly realising that your sweater, with its much too floppy sleeves, reaching a little way above your knees, was actually his. “Oh, I’ll wash it and give it back to you at some point,” you said shyly. “I was wondering where it went, but don’t worry about it, the colour looks nicer on you than it does on me,”

“Nonsense, you know that’s not true.” Soon enough, you found yourselves digging in - not before you expressed your gratitude towards food that wasn’t charred for the first time in months. You sat across from each other, your reindeer sock clad feet occasionally tapping his beneath the table. Spencer’s heart was full, marvelling at you from where he sat, wishing this could be something he could experience forever, much preferring it over a stale sandwich. You watched him intently through your eyelashes, chin resting on your interlaced hands while he taught you about how the thalidomide scandal emerging from Germany led to safer drugs in the pharmaceutical industry, the lecture prompted by an article he’d read recently. It continued into getting the dishes cleaned up, his rambling only being interrupted by your intermittent questions which incited further tangents, or requests to pass the tea towel. His voice was a ruffled silken sheet, on which you would like to lay for eternity. Admittedly, you found it difficult to focus on retaining any more information than the odd date, due to being too focused on the way his lips moved to form every word he said, hopelessly enamoured by the overly enthusiastic expressions he made to match the tone of what he was saying. Eventually, he wandered towards the living room as you stacked away the final plate, butterflies still spurring in your stomach from when his fingers brushed yours as he handed it to you.

“Spencer Reid effortlessly navigating technology, Christmas miracles really do exist, huh?”

“Actually, I just remembered watching you choose music, instead of paying attention to the road, that one time you drove me to work,”

“I was most definitely paying attention,” you huffed out a laugh, slightly bashful at the thought of him remembering small things you do. “You hit the kerb four times! That was the day I vowed to never let you transport me anywhere,”

“I see your argument, and I raise you with the counter argument: the kerb hit me.” Sitting with his back against the couch, legs sprawled out over the rug beneath your coffee table, Spencer couldn’t hold back his laughter. After watching you disappear into the kitchen, he busied himself with reading the holiday edition of Reader’s Digest laying on the table. He recounted you telling him that you had accidentally drunkenly subscribed to it, and never bothered to cancel the subscription, the first time you’d caught him reading an issue. You emerged a short while later, with drinks in both hands. “Bonjour monsieur, on tonight’s menu, we can either open this Merlot or, drink Capri-suns like the sophisticated adults we are. Your pick,” you said, hiding the juice pouches behind your back and noticeably waving the bottle of wine in front of you. “I have a feeling it isn’t my pick,” he let out a laugh, “so just fill a glass with enough Merlot for two,” you were on your way to get a glass before he had the chance to finish. “Your wish is my command!” You called. Spencer put down his magazine once he saw you rushing towards him with a large glass of wine in hand. “Of course you opt for Christmas Jazz over Mariah Carey,” you teased, hearing the music he’d queued floating from the withering speaker in the corner of the living room. It was the kind of music that would play in the diner of an expensive hotel, you noted. “I can change it if you’d like?” He began reaching for your phone, when you halted him by grasping his arm. “No, it’s good, I like your taste.” Spencer grinned sheepishly, taking the glass from your hand as you sat down beside him.

Hours of conversation and decking the halls with tinsel later, with wine flushed cheeks and twinkling eyes you moved the furniture to cater for your very own dance floor. Carefully, Spencer placed a hand below your ribs, touching you like new glassware, lacing the other with yours. Your unfettered hand, replaced the weight of the world as it rested on his shoulder. You recognised the look on his face as he settled into the close proximity, it was the same look that painted yours when you admired him whilst he failed to notice. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the man you held, making an indistinct halo of golden light appear above his unkempt hair. “I apologise for any damage caused to your feet,” you giggled, struggling to find a rhythm. “Here, follow my lead,” he looked down at your feet. “The Waltz?” Dazzled, you raised an eyebrow, a few seconds after recognising the box-like steps in unison. Spencer tried to focus on anything but your lips, glistening in the dull light, so close to his. “Mhm, I’m not exactly the most co-ordinated-”

“You don’t say?”

“That’s tough talk for someone I’ve seen fall up a flight of stairs,”

“That sounds made up, but as you were saying,” you laughed into his chest. “It’s simple because its a repeating pattern. Did you know that name of the dance comes from the German word waltzen, which means to turn, or to glide? Some say the dance itself comes from the folk music and dances of west Austria, but others debate that it’s a variation of the Volta, from the 16th century,”

“Interesting, makes sense to debate that though. I’m pretty sure volta means ‘a turning’ in Italian - although that’s mostly in reference to the turn of a new thought or idea in sonnets… I’m thinking of Shakespeare,” you chimed in. “Sonnet one-hundred and thirty being a classic example of that,”

“Of course you would know that,” you shook your head in awe, cheeks hurting from grinning too wide. The incandescence of the smile that hadn’t left his face all day was mesmerising, the honeyed expression tied together with the dimples on his cheeks and creases around his eyes. “What would you like for Christmas?” He mumbled, lifting a moment of peaceful silence. “If you pulled my name out of the hat today you’re going to have to be a lot more subtle than that,”

“Unfortunately not,” he pouted. “Don’t tell anyone I told you, but I have Rossi,” he whispered the words into your ear, neglecting that no one else was around to hear. “What do you get a man who already has everything money can buy?”

“A new wife,” you joked, causing him to scoff. He studied your visage as you pondered his earlier question, still swaying to the soft piano sounds. “Honestly Spencer, being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me,” you finally answered, tilting your head up at him. Spencer thought his knees would give way. He thought his knees would give way, and he would hit the ground with enough impact to implode through the earth’s crust. In reality, he only stumbled over his feet momentarily, regaining his composure before you noticed him slowly becoming unhinged. “If that’s the case, I wish I’d picked your name,” he managed to utter, breathlessly.

The music which continued to play was drowned out by the sound of steady breathing, you were too caught up in each other to pay attention to the world. Wordless, you looked into his eyes, his actions parallel to yours. “You look beautiful right now,” he sighed. “Of course, you always look beautiful but, you know.” You shook your head, refraining from averting your eyes from his. He wished you believed it, promising himself to never abstain from letting you know until you saw yourself the way he did. “It’s funny you say that, because I was thinking the same thing. About you of course,” you rushed out the last part, realising the potential for miscommunication. “I love seeing you happy,”

“Well, as long as you stick around, you’ll be seeing a lot of that,” he spoke lowly, on the verge of telling you about all the things he felt for you. You hadn’t realised, but you had unconsciously moved closer together. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, lighting a fire inside your lungs, as he took yours away. Spencer saw all of the signs; the signs that this was not usual for a friendship. Maybe, if it weren’t for his defeated battle with fear, and doubt, he would have told you by now that he had fallen desperately for you. Spencer knew there wasn’t a drop of insincerity behind any of the kind words you spoke into him, he understood that you were his person, but he found it difficult enough to comprehend that someone could feel this strongly for someone. So, the implausible idea that someone could feel this way about him, was one he was not even prepared to entertain. “Y/N? I, um,” he tried, wearily. You gave him a soft smile, both tired arms laced behind his neck now as his rested on your waist. He dropped his sword. Once again losing the fight against his unreasonable insecurities, changing his mind at the last second. “I need to give you something,” his demeanour changed and he vanished from your line of vision. Your heart sank, hopes of hearing him say that the love you had for him was requited, fallen. Before you got too lost in your head, he emerged from the doorway with the same black bag you’d been inquisitive of. “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you,” he tucked his lip beneath his teeth. “Spencer…” you trailed off as he handed it to you. You sat yourself on the carpet, patting the spot next to you for him to join. “I thought I should give it to you now, since I’ll be in Vegas for Christmas,”

“Spencer, you really didn’t have to-“

“Go on, open it,” he ignored your humility. You gave him a look as you opened it - it being replaced with a look of elation as you realised what it was. In your hands, you held a scarf, long enough to hit the floor, striped in all your favourite tones. “I had to ask my mom for help with the tassels, but-“

“You took the time to make this? For me?” You exclaimed. Without thought, you draped it around his neck to tug him closer to you, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, thank you so much,” you lauded, refusing to let go of him. “I think it was last winter, we were walking back to our hotel in Minnesota during a case, and you insisted that the both of us use my scarf to keep us warm, because you didn’t have one,”

“Ah, I remember that, except it ended up being one of the top ten worst disasters in U.S. history due to the height difference, and we both ended up falling face-first into the snow,” you giggled, recalling the way you had used up most of the hotel’s hot water afterwards. “Exactly,” he matched your expression, “seeing as you still haven’t bought one for yourself, even though we lose eighty percent of our body heat through our head and neck, I thought I would take matters into my own hands,”

“Well, I love it. You’ll have to tell your mother I said thank you and that I’m sending my love,” you finally dropped your arms from around him, out of fear of crushing his shoulders.

Once the zeroes had lined up on the twenty-four clock, Spencer sat where he usually resided on your bed, ardently admiring you as you folded away his gift. “Wait! Spencer close your eyes! Please!” You squeaked, immediately shutting the cupboard doors, realising your unwrapped present for him was hidden within. “Y/N? Is everything alright?” He asked, eyes now sealed shut. “I didn’t want you to see what I’d bought for Secret Santa,” you let out, too exhausted to form a coherent excuse. “We only got those names today - well, yesterday, now - so how did you manage to-”

“Shoot,” you cursed to yourself, knowing his unintentional profiling would lead him to the conclusion sooner or later. Spencer’s eyes slowly opened. “Okay, let’s say if, hypothetically, I had intended on giving you something for Christmas anyway, but then drawn your name today, would you, hypothetically, be able to act surprised when you receive it from me at work?”

“Hypothetically speaking, I would?” He squinted at you, stifling laughter. Your hair was slightly messy and your drowsy eyes were visible to Spencer even without his contacts in. He thought you just looked so adorable, wanting nothing more than to hold you and share your warmth. “Anyway, come to bed,” he beckoned, his voice gravelly, giving way for the day. Obliging, you shuffled towards your bed before sliding your cold feet beneath the covers. Spencer turned to face you, resting his cheek on an upturned palm. “Sorry for ruining the surprise,” you whispered, tucking the duvet under your chin, bright eyes looking through him. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he assured, treasuring the sight before him. There had been a shift in the air between the two of you. Spencer held the wine accountable, but he could sense that you felt it too, a level of intimacy that you had not quite reached during previous nights like this. “Come closer, I need to exploit your body heat while I can.” Spencer listened to your instruction, inching nearer to you, his heart rate so high he was sure you could feel it when you nuzzled your head into his chest. “Goodnight,” you felt his chest rumble. “Hang on, the night isn’t over yet,” you mumbled, “talk to me,”

“About?” He asked, amused by your grit to avoid sleep. “Anything you want,” you yawned. “You’re sleepy,” he stated, coaxing you into getting some shut eye. When you tilted your head up and continued to blink at him, he gave in. “Have you ever wondered why a lot of our most vulnerable conversations happen at night?” You nodded in response. “Well, a study done by the University of Colorado a couple of years ago concluded that natural light from the sun actually regulates your circadian rhythm, or internal biological clock, which standardises your sleep cycle. According to their study, this sleep cycle coincides with sunrise and sunset, meaning that if you regularly expose yourself to sunlight, your body enhances its internal clock to align more closely with the natural light cycle,”

“Based on that,” you contended, words slightly jumbled, “our circadian rhythm would vary between seasons, right? And yours would be different, since you’re a literal vampire, to say... someone who surfs down in Florida because of disparity in sun exposure?”

“Precisely,” he raised his eyebrows, “I’m impressed you’re still paying attention, you look like you’re already dreaming.” Spencer nudged your forehead gently with his own, causing you to breath out a laugh. “Alright, so how does all of that relate to being more vulnerable at night?”

“It relates in the sense that the rise and fall of the sun reflects in our physiological, as well as emotional behaviour. During the day, we’re a lot more active, and at night, we become more relaxed and receptive. Hence, since your mind is at ease, all the thoughts and emotions that might have felt jumbled up during the day become clear, making them a whole lot easier to express,”

“Mhm,” you managed, eyelids growing heavy. “Do you… have anything to say now,” you whispered drowsily, eyes now closed, “that you can’t say during the day?” Spencer couldn’t handle it anymore. He was already so fond of you but as his hand settled to rest around your waist, feeling your warmness, he believed his ribs could collapse from the way he felt inside. As you dozed off, gradually, winter became less cold in his arms and dreamscapes of his tea leaf eyes. “And, she’s asleep,” he whispered, minutes after silence, into your hair, “but to answer your question, yes,” his lips planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, “I love you.” Of course, unbeknownst to him, you weren’t asleep just yet.

∗∗∗

A couple of days went by, and as more time went on, the less certain you became as to whether Spencer had really even said the words, wondering if the whole thing was just a fatigue driven hallucination your lovesick mind had conjured up. Waking up beside him the next morning however, tangled in a warm cocoon of cotton and limbs, had left you feeling giddy, smiling like a fool with heart shaped eyes as he attempted to feed you the waffles he’d made - which the two of you gulped down far too quickly than sanctioned, to avoid being late for work. When you didn’t succeed, and the clock had beaten you by ten minutes, you both wrestled past evocative looks from the rest of the team for the remainder of the day, JJ even singing something about the two of you ‘sitting in a tree’ . The soft, shared, smiles and light brushes of fingertips when he handed you coffee in the mornings left you wanting to concede; let him know that you would walk on burning coal for him, the more logical side of you reminding you that professing your devotion to him over an open case file consisting of a double homicide, three days before Christmas, was far from ideal. Spencer wanted the kind of love only the poets could express. This had become evident the evening you took him to a midnight screening of ‘Un homme et Une Femme’. You recalled leaning into him to translate, catching sight of his welling eyes glimmer in the dim lit theatre. Believing his love should be celebrated, you decided to withhold the unsurfaced feelings a little while longer.

Later that week, you all gathered around the BAU tree, a small framed picture of Derek decidedly hanging from one of its upper branches after Garcia had to be heavily persuaded, and eventually bribed, to not place it at the top, arguing “But he’s my star.” Spencer snuck behind you, subtly placing a hand on your back to glide through and place Rossi’s gift under the tree. “I want to let you know that I’ve been practicing my ‘surprised’ face in the mirror,” he discreetly whispered against your neck, making you roll your eyes. “Okay super sleuths, I know we’re all itching to fly away for a break, but hold your reindeer, because we are yet to kick off our annual Secret Santa,” Garcia excitedly exclaimed, shuffling in with two large sparkling bags. “I thought there was a budget?” Rossi quirked. “Yes, sir,” she looked smug, “for you.” The team shared smiles at Rossi’s perplexed look. “So, who wants to start us off?” Garcia chirped. With that, the festivities were under way. You held tight an abnormally large heat sensitive mug, which you were sure would also reveal a promiscuous image once warm - a gift from Emily, who gave herself away by insisting it would help your caffeine dependency - watching as the others tackled ribbon wrapping paper. You threw an impressed look Spencer’s way, that glint of knowing something the universe doesn’t returning to your eyes, when Rossi opened a small portrait of what looked to be a Venetian cathedral, the Santa Maria to be exact. Once the banter and excited chatter had died down, everyone turned to the recipient of the final gift, neatly labelled Spencer Reid, enveloped in brown paper and tied with deep purple ribbon. Penelope looked as if she were about to pass out. Spencer’s shifting eyes landed on JJ as she mouthed a small ‘you’re up’, causing a smile to tug at his lips when he eyed you gazing at him with the soft look he adored. Your eyes lingered on his hands as they swimmingly untied the mauve knot and tore open the paper to reveal a large leather-bound journal. He examined the old looking thing, trailing his fingers along the convoluted golden details of the artistic interpretation of a moon calendar adorning its umber covers, partially covered by thin leather straps. His mouth was slightly agape, shaking a little at how well you knew him, clumsily catching the matching novelty pen before it slipped out of the wrapping and onto the floor. You had picked it up at a forlorn occult shop after it had caught your eye while looking out of place as it lay surrounded by large crystals. Knowing in an almost divine way that it should belong to Spencer, you had bought it. He couldn’t help but look at you briefly, communicating a silent gratitude. “This is amazing,” he ogled, “I love it.” Your heartbeat was in your throat. He was yet to find out you’d filled the first page for him.

Shouts of Merry Christmas, long hugs and season’s greetings were thrown around the room before, one by one, everyone slowly bade their goodbyes. While helping JJ clear away torn reds and greens of gift wrapping, you caught sight of Spencer, ears and cheeks scarlet, with his nose buried in his new, opened, journal.

“We are asleep until we fall in love," you looked up from Leo Tolstoy’s one thousand page book and recited to me, once. Since you walked into my life, I’ve been wide awake. You know that I’m never far away, but this is for the days you need to let out some of what you hold in, without saying it aloud.

I love you too, Spencer.

Spencer read and re-read the words until he was sure he could recite them like the Lord’s Prayer. It was commonly Spencer who remembered small details and remembered paltry quotations, but this time, it was you. Sitting in the glow of the afternoon sun, one October, he had been reading War and Peace, and couldn’t help but share the line with you as you sat across from him, chewing through a much smaller number of pages and reading a collection of poetry. The woman he had been so captivated by, admiring from afar that day - and all others, felt the same way he did. In disbelief, he began breathing manually. Making sure he was deciphering the cursive lettering correctly, he scanned the page again. While his eyes were definitely not deceiving him, they remained glued to one word. Awake. The havoc caused in his heart by the train of thought hitting him so brutally, rivalled only Gare Montparnasse. You must’ve heard his confession nights ago. It was the only explanation for the ‘I love you, too’. You most definitely were awake. Profiling tendencies overcame him. With his basic background of graphology, he could make out that the last line had been written in fresher ink than all the others, confirming his hypothesis. For the first time in a while, his mind was quiet, the uncertainties which fought to float in, unable to make their way through as if the thee simple words you’d handed him were a barrier for them. He needed to talk to you.

Walking quickly towards the elevator, an overwhelming wave of anxiety crashed over you. You had subconsciously been avoiding Spencer for most of the evening, second-guessing whether or not you’d heard him correctly, whether he’d even meant the words in the way you’d interpreted, wondering what you would do if this friendship were to ever end. However, a more hopeful side of you contended to quiet those thoughts. He had to feel it too. There was no room in which you hadn’t shared a longing look. The feather touches, and dancing. So badly did you want to believe that he thought this too. A slender arm appeared through the closing elevator doors, tugging you back to reality, causing you to jump before quickly pushing the open button. “Spencer! You could’ve lost an arm!” You yelped. “It’s okay, I have two of them,” he huffed. He avoided your eyes for a moment, before inhaling half of the oxygen in the small lift and turning towards you. “I wanted to say thank you, for this,” he held up the book, “it’s gorgeous, and sort of… exactly what I needed - and not just the book itself but what you wrote… inside it,” he nervously looked at you. “Did you- do you mean what you wrote?” His tone of voice syringed into you a drop of hurt. “Spencer, I never want you to think that I don’t mean it,” your let out in a shaky voice, gently grasping his elbow. You visibly saw his body ease, a smitten smile replacing the lip being chewed at. His throat bobbed as he gulped before he spoke again, heartbeat in his ears. “I want you to know that I’m in love with you, Y/N. I don’t want you the way I want a best friend, I want you in a-” he sighed, clenching and unclenching his fist trying to find the words, “I want you in a way that means I want to fall asleep beside you, and wake up to you the next morning, for as long as the sun rises. I want you. I want you - no, need you, the way the tide needs the moon to rise and fall, I want you-” he swallowed, furrowing his brows at his feet, “I want you, like this.” Hazel eyes fluttering shut was the last thing you saw. Large hands lightly caressed your face, one travelling behind your ear, brushing your neck to delicately tangle in your hair. After years of wondering, you finally knew what his lips felt like on yours. His nose bumped yours lightly as you tasted his soft lips, their slight chap reminding you that winter had kissed them first. Your hands wrapped around his wrists, before one settled on his tilted jaw and another hid in his chestnut hair. He felt warm, everywhere you touched setting electricity through him. Even after you pulled apart, his arms remained on either side of your face, holding you like you were fragile. His breath fanned over your face, as you shivered, the fluttering in your stomach unsubdued. The elevator had long reached the ground floor, causing the two of you to bashfully laugh concurrently. You thought to yourself that Spencer’s crimson flush and wide grin was a sight you would lose sleep to gaze at. “All this time, I’ve been missing out on that,” you teased, watching him shyly bite his lip as he waited for you to say something else. “I’m very glad you said all of that because I’m very much in love with you, Spencer Reid, and, if you’ll let me, I want to love you, the way people love in all the books you’ve lent me,” you told him. At that, he was sure his heart was yours, fearlessly. So, making afternoon plans and debating which train to take, neither of you really caring as long as you were in the other’s company, you finally stepped out of the elevator, oblivious to the mistletoe that was hanging within it, but more than mindful of what was to come.

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

Text

F.W.B. - Rafe Cameron

Request: Can you do 93 and 118 from your prompt list with Rafe or JJ please, you can decide who. That's if your taking requests, if not then just ignore this.

A/N: Sorry I’m the worst and this took so long to post! Also I wrote it for Rafe...trying out something a little different with my writing.

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The first time you slept with Rafe it happened at a party. You weren’t drunk but you definitely weren’t sober either and he looked good, even if boys in polos weren’t your thing. Neither of you were in a place where you wanted a relationship, you weren’t ready to carve out space in your life for someone who might not be permanent and Rafe wasn’t feeling that itch to commit either. So it seemed reasonable, that a hazy sort of friends with benefits would form, a made-up contract between the two of you. 

The first and most obvious rule was that you weren’t exclusive. Rafe was happy to put it on the list that you buried in notes on your phone, exclusivity was not required. You guys were free to hook up with other people. 

“That’s fine with me, there was a guy at Topper’s party last week that was kinda hot,” you replied. Sprawled across his bed, head hanging over one side and feet dangling off the other, as you listened to him rattling off supposed ‘rules’. 

That rule was nice in theory but it was no secret that from the moment you and Rafe started sleeping together you stopped hooking up with anyone else. At first it was just subtle signals to each other at parties or texts when you were bored. 

-are you busy?-

-I’ll come to yours-

At first it was all you texted about. But somewhere along the way it changed. You didn’t play cat and mouse at parties or pretend you were thinking about going home with someone else. You started showing up together and hanging close to each other and so help anyone who tried to win either yours or Rafe’s attention. He’d send you texts in the morning and the conversation would last well into the night, various FaceTime calls peppered in throughout the day. 

“I read the directions, I know what I’m doing.”

“You say that but I’m telling you right now I’m not eating those...they look like lumps of coal.” Rafe laughed, leaning in close to the camera as if he’d be able to see the cookies you were in the process of baking. 

“They do not-“ you turned away from your phone as the door opened behind you, “Mom! Come here!” 

“What?”

“Tell Rafe these cookies don’t look like lumps of coal!” You said, a weak glare as you met his eyes through the screen. 

“Are these the cookies?” Your mom asked. Rafe didn’t miss the skeptical Look she gave as she inspected the double chocolate chip cookies you’d spent the last hour making.

“Told you!”

“You guys suck!” You whined, “I’m never baking again.” 

Rafe chalked all these little moments up to the actual ‘friends’ part of friends with benefits but you both knew differently. You were wading out into deep water, tempting feelings by getting closer to each other 

The second rule was yours and you broke it pretty regularly. Don’t bring your ‘friend with benefits’ around your family. It was a rule for obvious reasons. The moment the two of you started spending time with each other’s families was the moment you were in too deep. But that didn’t stop you from going to his house to brave Rose’s implemented Sunday Night Dinners or stop him from showing up at your grandmother’s 80th birthday with you, present in hand as if he was a member of the family already.

You both knew that bringing the other around was playing with fire. Because suddenly you were helping Wheezie with her homework and shopping on the mainland with Sarah. It didn’t end at his house either, every time he came around your mom was asking him to stay for dinner, getting him to replace the water on the water cooler because she claimed she “couldn’t do it”.

“My family thinks we’re dating.” You mentioned once, towards the end of your deal, though at the time you didn’t realize that this statement would turn out to be the catalyst that ended one thing and started another.

“Why?”

You rolled your eyes and propped yourself up on your side so you could actually take a look at Rafe. Both of you were laying in his bed, naked, post sex, talking about whatever came to mind. It would be classified as cuddling if you really had to label it but neither of you wanted to because ‘no cuddling’ was rule number three. Rafe had been clear, after sex you both got dressed. You could hang out but the spending time together and the sex had to be separate events.

“Well let’s see there was last week when you showed up to my house even though I was out and ended up hanging out with my mom while she made dinner. Or the week before when Wheezie, Sarah, and I had a sleepover at my house. Or, you know, generally showing up at every holiday in the last year.” You pointed out. None of those things bothered you, honestly, you’d only mentioned it in hopes that his response would give you some sort of hint about where he stood with you.

Instead he seemed to be more interested in where the blanket had fallen away, his eyes straying from your face to your chest. When you noticed you his expression you took some advantage of it, shifting in bed so that you were straddling him. Rafe’s hands immediately going your hips, eyes closing as you rocked back against him just enough to elicit a moan. You’d been sleeping together, exclusively, for over a year, and in that time you had learned all his little quirks. He liked having some dominance over you in bed but you knew it was just a farce and you were always the one in control. A surprising trait, considering the type of person he seemed to be.

“So?” You asked, peppering kisses along his jaw and neck. Soft, tan skin that smelled like the slightest hint of a coconut because he’d showered earlier at your place.

“So?” He repeated the word and it sounded a little dazed, as if he was only half aware of the conversation. You were fairly certain you could get him to do anything you wanted just by posing a question to him when he was in this state.

“No input on my family thinking we’re dating?”

“Who cares.”

The fourth rule was one of convenience. It was also the most obvious of the rules: if one of you started to catch feelings the whole thing would be called off. That one was broken long before either of you realized it. Your ‘friends with benefits’ tryst with Rafe should’ve never begun in the first place if you were truly going to follow the most sacred rule of hooking up. It wasn’t supposed to be serious. Ever.

And maybe you both could’ve continued living in the bubble of ‘just friends who fuck on occasion’ if it wasn’t for some touron at a party asking you on a date. Rafe had skipped the party for a week in the bahamas with his family and you had been bored out of your mind, entertained only by Topper and Kelce, who both ditched you when they found people they were interested in.

Leaving you approachable and approached was what you got. By some touron. Cute enough, he asked you on a date. It wasn’t like he was expecting a relationship, he was heading home in three days, but a date wasn’t a relationship, it was just a date. To a nice resturant on the Eight and you agreed cause why not?

Rafe was why not and he was laying on your bed, watching you get dressed. He’d come over for the same reason he always did. Sex, to hang out, to get away from Ward. Only to discover that while he was gone you had agreed to a date.

“Don’t go.”

“I’m not shipping off to war Rafe, it’s one date.” You shrugged, walking out of your bathroom in a tight skirt/bralette co-ord. “What about this?” It was white and looked great on you and you never got the chance to wear it because you never went on dates.

“Can we just stay home so I can fuck your brains out?”

You rolled your eyes at him, laying horizontally across your bed on his back, head dangling off the side. He sounded and looked like a little kid who wasn’t getting their way and honestly, he was spoiled. Hell, he had gotten to have you for a year and a half with no one else ever winning your attention long enough for a date. Now all the sudden it was like someone was taking something of his, and Rafe was not the type who liked to share.

“Does the outfit look good or not?” You asked, frustrated.

“Yeah, you look gorgeous, now don’t go.”

“I haven’t been on a date in ages Rafe, I just wanna go to a nice restaurant and have dinner and look cute and walk around the beach-”

“So, we can do that.” Rafe said, sitting up. He’d come all the way over here last minute after you declined going to his for your date. His usually slicked back hair hung like fringe and he had to brush it out of his eyes when he sat up. You’d be lying if you said that just seeing him slightly unkempt wasn’t a turn on. Rafe, without all the rich boy necessities, was arguably your favorite.

“You’re going to take me on a date?” You asked, reappearing in the door frame of the bathroom, “we don’t do dates Rafe, remember?”

“Screw that.”

“What?”

“Screw friends with benefits. You want to go on a date? I’ll take you on a date. Wherever you wanna go. We can go to a fancy restaurant, take out Druthers, whatever.” He got off the bed, coming over to you.

“Don’t make me promises you don’t wanna keep,” you said, backing up. When you hit the counter he only grinned, trapping you in. Rafe could’ve sent a text telling you not to go and you probably wouldn’t have, all this was just an added bonus in your mind. And maybe some answers, finally.

“Oh trust me, I want to keep them.” He replied, reaching passed you and grabbing your phone off the counter.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, watching as he unlocked your phone and opened up your messages, finding the texts about the date.

“This him?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, “Rafe what’re you doing?”

He held the phone to his ear and when you started to question him again, he put his hand over your mouth. “I’m on the phone.” He waited a beat for your date to answer before telling him that you wouldn’t be showing up tonight, smiling as your eyes went wide. “Her boyfriend’s home and he gets a little territorial.”

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broadstbroskis · 4 years ago

Text

thanksgiving | jeff skinner

a/n: it’s here!!! this is like 4k that i threw together in like a week after i took it as a personal challenge from @blueskrugs after i asked why we don’t write more thanksgiving fics. a huge shoutout to her and @danglesnipecelly, for inspiration and cheering me on for this, as well as literally anyone else who’s cheered me on to finish thing, you’re all the real mvps and i love you all 💚

-----

Jeff shrugs, and from across the table filled with pizza, beer, and a bunch of other things that are most definitely not on his approved list of foods, you stare at him.

“I dunno. I don’t really have plans, I guess? Probably just sit at home, relax a little?” He says. Your jaw drops. He has...he has what now? “You're going to your parent’s right?” You nod slowly, still stuck on the fact that he’s going to sit at home and do nothing on Thanksgiving, the best of all holidays. Not spend the day with some teammates, not make a quick trip to his family, nothing. “That’ll be fun!” Jeff grins, dimples popping. “What are you-”

“You’re doing nothing?” You get out finally, the words coming back to you.

Jeff’s smile falters, but only slightly, and he nods. “Yeah? I mean, there’s no practice, no games. I’ll just…” He trails off for a second and then shrugs. “Rest.”

“You’re not going to go, like, visit your parents? They’re right across the border!”

“It’s a Thursday.” Jeff says patiently and you abruptly remember that his Canadian-ness is the whole point of this conversation.

“Thanksgiving is the best holiday! You can’t sit at home alone on it; I forbid it!” Jeff’s smile grows again as he laughs and you try and fight your own grin as you shove at his shoulders, to no avail. “Come home with me!”

“What?” He laughs again, but this time, it’s more like disbelief.

But the idea is already growing in your mind. “Come home with me! You know my parents love you, they won’t mind at all!”

“I can’t just invite myself to your Thanksgiving!” Jeff protests.

You wave him off. “You’re not, I’m inviting you! Come on, we’d love to have you!” He still looks hesitant, so you add, “Our Thanksgiving is huge anyway; one extra mouth to feed isn’t going to put anyone out, Jeff.”

“Alright.” He caves, and you grin, pulling your phone close to you to text your mom and let her know. “But ask your mom, okay? Like, really ask her, don’t just, like, tell her I’m coming.”

“Too late!” You say cheerfully, showing him the text you’d sent in your family group chat, telling them you were bringing Jeff with you next week. Your mom’s already responded with a string of happy face emojis and your younger sister with a How I Met Your Mother gif about Canadian Thanksgiving. “Be prepared for a lot of Canada jokes!”

“Is that supposed to be different than any other time I see your family?’ Jeff deadpans, but you’re pretty sure he looks like, at least 50% more relaxed, so you count this as a win and ignore him completely, already mentally planning for the best holiday of the year.

-----

The drive back home to your parents takes about an hour longer than you’d like, stuck in the same godawful traffic as everyone else trying to leave Buffalo on Wednesday so that they can get back home in time to go out that night.

When Jeff finally pulls his car up in front of your childhood home, you can already see that it’s bustling with activity, getting ready for tomorrow. Most of your siblings have already arrived- only your older brother, with his wife and daughters will come in tomorrow, with the rest of your family- but your younger brother and sister have already come home, a fact that’s even more evident when you and Jeff walk in the front door and immediately trip over three pairs of sneakers.

“Liam!” You cry, grabbing onto Jeff so you don’t fall. “Motherfucker, move your shoes!”

Your brother pops his head out of the living room, AirPods in his ears. “I’m on a call!” And just as you're marveling at the fact that your brother is a real person with a real job taking real work calls, said real person with a real job spots Jeff and lights up. “Jeff! Bro! What’s up, man?”

“I thought you were on a call.” You snap at him.

“I’m on mute.” Liam slaps his palm against Jeff’s pulling him in for a ridiculous handshake-bro hug combo, before he finally comes over and lifts you off the floor. “Yo!”

“Yo!” You repeat, honestly unable to believe you’re related to this kid. If the two of you didn’t look exactly alike, you’d probably think he was adopted. “You still coming out tonight?”

“Hell yeah, this is my last call. I’m ready to go.”

You snicker, looking down at his sweatpants and dress shirt combo- he must have taken a video call at some point today. “Yeah, okay, bud.”

He ruffles your hair, in that annoying way he’s been able to do ever since he grew taller than you. “Don’t you worry, I will be.”

You laugh, ducking under his arm, to let him get back to it. You’ve got no doubts about that. Liam’s always ready to party. “Finish your call so we can start pregaming.”

He grins, like you knew he would. “Now we’re talking.” And then he ducks back into your dad’s office.

Jeff is laughing when you look back at him and you give him a look. “What?”

“Nothing, just forgot how the two of you were when you got going.”

“Yup, and you’re stuck with us for next two days!” You grin.

Jeff rolls his eyes at you, but he’s still smiling when he follows you to the kitchen, in search of your mom. She’s at the counter, rolling dough for biscuits, her only other contribution to the annual Thanksgiving dinner that she hosts, besides the turkey; a holiday that she’d taken over hosting once it had become too much for your grandmother to handle, but only on the caveat that everyone began contributing food toward the meal. It’s been a potluck style holiday ever since.

She’s ultra-focused, the volume on her favorite playlist high (this wild mix of 80’s pop and today’s hits that’s actually kind of a banger), so you sneak up behind her and wrap your arms around her. “Hi!”

“Jesus!” Your mom jumps, elbowing you in the process, but you’re laughing too hard to care. “Don’t do that!”

“Just excited to see you!” You beam at her, squeezing her once more, before pulling away. “Where do you want the pie?” Jeff lifts the pie you’d made yesterday, showing your mom.

Your mom purses her lips, studying the kitchen around her. “Leave it on the counter for now; I’ll have your dad clear some space in the garage.” She gestures with her elbow. “Hi Jeff!”

“Hi!” Jeff pulls out his best smile, a real one, dimples super popped. “Thank you for having me-”

Your mom cuts him off before he can finish, like you knew she would. “Oh, we’re so happy you could make it! You’re welcome anytime, Jeff!” She assures him.

“Is the guest room ready?” You ask. “We’ll throw our stuff upstairs before Dad sees it at the bottom of the steps and has a fit.”

Your mom fights back a laugh at that- a statement that everyone in your family knows all too well-but then looks almost apologetic as she finishes, “It is, but we gave it to Katie.”

“Oh, Katie’s here too?” Your sister’s roommate at college was, at this point, basically another sister to you. She hardly went home for breaks within the semesters, usually came up for at least a month during the summer, and more often than not came home with Abby when she was back for anything. The “guest room” really was more like Katie’s room at this point.

“Where else would she be?” Abby appears, right on cue, with Katie right behind her, practically matching in leggings and oversized sorority shirts. “It’s Thanksgiving; she’s ready to rage tonight.”

You actually can’t wait for the babies to be hungover tomorrow-both were 21 for their first Thanksgiving Eve and you know they’re going to be in a super rough spot tomorrow-but you keep that thought to yourself.

“It didn’t even occur to me!” Your mom says apologetically. “I just gave Katie her usual room.”

“No, it’s cool. Jeff and I can share. He doesn’t mind, right?” But you barely even wait for his shrug and nod in agreement. It’s not like you haven’t before, when you’re either too lazy or too drunk to go home. You’re both adults, it’s no big. “I’ve shared a bed with you before; I’ll spare Katie the bruised shins.” You tease your sister.

Katie cracks up as Abby sputters out how rude you are. “It’s a hazard!” Katie agrees, dodging the swat your sister sends towards her. It sets the two of them off, which you take as your cue to grab Jeff’s hand and drag him (and your stuff) up to your room.

Of course, usually when you’re sharing a bed with Jeff, it��s a king sized bed, or at least a queen- definitely not the double that your parents just shoved in your old room to replace the queen bed that had been in there until you moved out and took your furniture with you. You hadn’t realized how small it was though, not until today, until the idea of actually having to share it with someone, with Jeff, who might not be a giant, but isn’t tiny. “Sorry.” You apologize, almost unsure of what you’re saying.

Jeff shrugs. “Well, at least you don’t kick.” He smiles, as then it’s like everything’s back to normal, that awkward feeling that was growing over you gone as quickly as it came.

“She’s a bruiser, don’t let her tell you otherwise.” You throw your bag down, rifling through it for the sweater you were planning to wear tomorrow, to hang it up so it isn’t too wrinkled.

Jeff laughs. “I’ll take your word for it.” He’s holding up his shirt, a button down and a tie. “Where can I hang this?”

“You can’t wear that!”

He frowns, likely at the vehemence you’d just spoken that with. “Uhh, why not?”

“You’ll get roasted.” Seriously, you’d told him it wasn’t a dressy affair. God, what part of not dressy does he think requires a tie? “Don’t you have, like, a sweater?”

“I mean, yeah, but-”

“Sweater and jeans, that’s fine.”

Jeff gives you a look. “That doesn’t seem-”

“Sweater. And jeans.” You repeat. He’ll thank you tomorrow, when your uncle doesn’t ask him when tea is. When your cousin doesn’t talk to him only in a fake British accent for the entire night.

Jeff hands over a sweater, a soft thing you’ve seen him wear on many occasions, and you smile your thanks at him, hanging it up next to yours. “Meet your standards?” He asks; you think he’s aiming for teasing but he kind of misses the mark, sounding a little more nervous than joking.

“Perfect.” He smiles back at you and you laugh. “Come on, you dork. Let’s go see what’s for dinner tonight.”

-----

“Don’t wake me up when you come in tonight!” Your dad calls, as he drops the five of you off at Mel’s, the bar for Thanksgiving Eve. Your friends are already at the bar, you’re anticipating a high school reunion for sure, and you’ve warned Jeff of this, even though he assured you that he could handle it, and he was just excited for a nice, chill night.

You’d actually laughed out loud at that. Oh Jeffrey.

“Pshh.” Liam waves your dad off. “I haven’t done that since I was like 16 and still having to sneak out.”

Your dad gives him a look. “I was talking to your sister.” He looks over at Abby, who ignores him completely, in favor of taking a SnapChat with Katie, and he sighs resolutely. You all absolutely know she isn’t listening to a word he says. “Have fun, be safe. Uber home.”

Liam salutes him. “Will do.”

Inside the bar, the night starts exactly as you and Liam have started your last few Thanksgiving Eve’s-with a round of shots at the bar as you’re ordering drinks, before splitting off to find your respective friends to start the evening.

Jeff fits in with your friends fantastically, laughing and joking around with them like he’s known them forever, even though you’re sure the only one he’s met is your oldest friend, Ashley. But he greets Ashley and her husband, Brian, like old friends, and quickly joins conversations with all your other friends, and soon hours have passed before your brother is sliding up behind you. “Heads up.” Liam mutters as he passes. “Douche at 3 o’clock.”

You tense as it takes everything in you not to turn and look over. “Hey.” Jeff nudges you, concern clear in his eyes as he looks at you, and you’re not sure what he pulled himself away from, but you must look pretty bad. “You okay?”

You nod, kinda spacily, but leaning in closer to him, and he takes the cue to curl in toward you- you’re not really interested in shouting to the entire bar and you’re really not interested in drawing attention to yourself. “Yeah, just- my ex is over there.”

Jeff purses his lips for a minute and then schools his face back to neutral. “I take it things didn’t end well.”

“No.” You say, thinking of the demise of your relationship with Dylan. “It did not.”

You hadn’t even realized that Jeff grabbed your hand until he’s squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You shake your head. “It was...definitely for the best.” It might have taken you a while to see that, but you can now, even if the rare instances you still see Dylan sometimes rattles you. “I thought I was going to marry him, at one point, but I’m so much happier here now.”

Jeff smiles. “Good.”

You squeeze his hand once more, a thanks for his comfort and care, before both of you rejoin the conversation, and you forget about Dylan entirely for the next hour, until you physically run into him coming back from the bar with another round of drinks for you and Jeff.

“Hey!” Dylan beams at you, goes right in for a cheek kiss, like you’re still that familiar, and once again you stiffen up.

“Hi.” You return politely, ready to sidestep around him and return to Jeff and your friends.

“No, wait.” Dylan steps with you, blocking your path. “I haven’t seen you in forever. Let’s catch up a minute, what’s new?”

“No offense, Dylan, but I’m not really looking to catch up with you.” You say flatly.

He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can another voice cuts in. “Everything okay here?” Jeff asks politely, stepping very purposefully next to you, and Dylan’s eyes immediately fly over to him.

“Mhmm,” You nod. “Was just on my way back to you.”

“Good.” Jeff says, in a tone far more harsh than you usually hear him take. “Let’s get back.” He positions himself again, clearing a space for you to easily slip past Dylan, and then steps closely behind you, catching up quickly.

“Thanks.” You lean against him, gently, not looking to spill either of your drinks, but Jeff solves that problem by taking his.

“Any time.” Jeff says softly and you don’t have much else to say on the matter so you just nudge him once more in thanks and walk back toward your friends with him at your side.

-----

When you wake up the next morning, you’re warm and comfortable and only a little hungover, which you count as a huge success. There’s not too much noise going on downstairs yet, which means you definitely have some more time to sleep, so you curl back into your pillow, humming contently when it pulls you in closer.

And then your eyes pop open abruptly, because pillows don’t do that.

Except they do when they look like Jeff Skinner, who looks just as soft and warm and comfortable as you feel right now, still sleeping judging by the evenness of his breath.

It’s just...it’s a really nice way to wake up, with Jeff’s kind-of smiling face, looking super soft and cozy as he breathes just on the wrong side of too loud, but not so loudly that it drives you nuts.

It’s a little too early to unpack that, and your hangover might not be that bad but it’s definitely bad enough that you’re not ready to think on that, so you close your eyes and let yourself curl into Jeff and fall back asleep.

-----

When you do finally get out of bed, Thanksgiving morning is its usual chaos, running around with last minute errands, cleaning, and helping your mom in the kitchen. The last to shower for the day, by the time you arrive downstairs, the Lions vs. Bears game is well underway, your notoriously early grandparents have already arrived, and your grandmother is already asking your mom where that one turkey decoration she bought her one year is.

You bypass the kitchen entirely and move toward the living room, where you find your dad, grandfather, Jeff, and siblings all gathered, just as you’d expected. You slide down on the floor next to Jeff, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before more of your family arrives and you’re offering your set up anyway, and wait for the next round of chaos to begin.

It doesn’t take long. Your aunts, uncles, and cousins start pouring in and then it’s just introduction after introduction, as you wrap up showing off Jeff to one group just as the next arrives. You are absolutely confident he has no idea who anyone is, but it’s fine, because he’s still laughing and joking around with all your uncles and cousins that have joined you in watching football.

The kitchen is its own brand of chaos, when you make a quick stop in on your back from a beer run, but chaos has never stopped your aunt before and it certainly isn’t today. “Oh my god!” She exclaims, after you’ve pressed a smacking kiss to the top of your grandmom’s head. “That boy!”

“What boy?” You ask, like an idiot, which is immediately clear from the looks you get from everyone in the kitchen, even your usually oblivious uncle, who’s doing...something...with the ham they’d brought. “Who, Jeff?”

“Yes.” Another aunt stresses. “He’s cute!”

You shrug. “Yeah, I mean-”

But your grandmom cuts you off this time. “And so friendly! Just the nicest boy! Oh, you couldn’t have found anyone better!” She exclaims.

“Well, I haven’t.” You announce, watching all of their faces fall. “So sorry to burst that bubble.”

“Why?” One of your older cousins frowns. “Girl. Get on that. You are not going to do better than that boy in there.”

“I truly don’t know if that was meant to be a dig at me or you all think that highly of Jeff already, but regardless. We are just friends.” Now everyone in the kitchen is giving you a look. You gather the beers and retreat, distributing them as you return to your spot on the floor near Jeff.

He’s giving you a look as you pass him his, but whatever’s on your face must not be too bad, because he just thanks you as you pass him the bottle, and you nod in return as you try to find the same comfortable spot as before, leaning against his thigh.

-----

Your dad catches you a bit later, as he’s coming back with beers this time and you’re coming out of the bathroom, and he nudges you carefully as you take a few bottles from his hand. “So Jeff?”

You groan. The tone of that statement was far too loaded. “Jesus, you too?”

Your dad laughs. “Who else?”

“Everyone.”

“Well maybe that should be your hint.” Your dad says teasingly, but also not? There’s definitely some seriousness to this. “That Jeff’s pretty perfect for you.”

You stare at him. “You’ve met Jeff, like, a hundred times. Why’s this coming out now?”

“I always thought you were my smart kid and that you’d figure it out yourself.” He muses. “Now I realize you’re only book-smart and you’d never figure this out on your own.” And then he leaves you there in the hallway, with your jaw dropped and too many thoughts, as he continues on, laughing at you.

-----

When the call to come serve yourselves echoes into the room, the usual mad scramble follows immediately. It’s only as you’re getting into line behind your brother that you realize that Jeff’s not with you anymore, and you abandon the long line waiting for food, in favor of seeking out Jeff.

You find Jeff upstairs, in your room, just kind of lounging on your bed, and you lean against the doorway. “Hey! Food’s ready.”

“Yeah.” Jeff nods, the smile he sends you back in return far too tight and forced to be genuine. “Be right down.”

But he doesn’t move, so you step in and climb into your bed next to him. “What’s wrong?”

Jeff laughs; it’s kind of hollow and doesn’t sound anything like his usual loud laugh or his giggles that you love. “What- nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Jeff.” You say softly. “Come on.”

He sighs. “Why did you bring me here?”

That...was not at all what you expected. “What?”

“Why did you bring me here?” He repeats. “Why did you bring me home, to your family? I thought, maybe, finally…” He trails off for a minute. “Except, there’s like ten other randos here too!” He laughs again, that hollow thing that you’re already hating. “Everybody in this family just brings people home, and that’s awesome, okay? Please don’t ever change that about yourself. I just-I thought we had something special, is all.” He says, sounding almost sad? Melancholy?

“You are special.” You hate this. Jeff should never be sad; he should always be happy and smiling and joking. This is worse than seeing him after losses, worse than seeing him at low points in the season, that one game when he realizes that shit’s done and they’re just playing to keep playing now, that playoffs won’t be coming this year, again. “Jeff, you’re-”

“I’m in love with you.” Jeff says and it’s so straight-up, matter-of-fact, like it’s never not been a fact for him. “And I’m sorry I’ve fucked things up here for tonight and made this so awkward. I just- being here with you and your family just made me want you that much more.”

There’s so so so much you want to say to Jeff, but it’s like time is frozen. You can’t speak, can’t move, can’t do anything except look at him in awe, until he starts to move off your bed, when you reach for him, finally, resting your hand on his thigh, relieved when he looks back at you. “My dad thinks I’m an idiot.” You blurt out and Jeff just gives you a look. “I’m sorry; that wasn’t what I wanted to say.” You take a deep breath, trying to gather the jumble of thoughts in your head. “Or at least, not the only thing. He thinks I’m an idiot because he thinks you’re perfect for me and I didn’t see it. My whole family thinks you’re perfect- cute and friendly and nice- and god, Jeff, you are! You’re all those things!” He’s still watching you, with like, barely the smallest hint of a smile on his face. “I just-didn’t realize you were perfect for me until we came here.”

Now he’s full on beaming, dimples showing, and you don’t even realize that you’re returning the grin until his hand comes up to your face, thumbing at the corner of your lip. “I’m sorry I’m a dumbass.” You finish lamely, too busy smiling at Jeff. “Please kiss me so we can make sure we get biscuits.”

Jeff hums. “I don’t know if I can kiss you now and just...stop.”

“Well I’m not going down to eat until you do.” You say stubbornly. “And you’ve been hyping up those biscuits since breakfast.”

“Fair enough.” Jeff laughs and then you’re smiling into the best first kiss you’ve ever had, tangling your hands into his hair and wondering if you may actually end up missing the meal this year.

#jeff skinner imagine #jeff skinner fanfic #jeff skinner fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #Hockey Fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #my hockey fics

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peggyrose19 · 4 years ago

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Day 19: Soulmates

Jeez formatting this was a bitch. Advent for tonight is a little bit different, because the prompt was an accidental double. So, instead of being a sensible human being and just writing a different one-shot off it again, I decided I should get my O’Knutzy soulmate AU done instead, thinking it’d be fairly simple. Oh how wrong I was. Who knew writing an actual plot and developing a relationship was so hard? Me, but I started it anyway so really I did this to myself. So if it’s complete shit, I apologize in advance. Some day I will go back and edit and add to it. Characters by the always amazing @lumosinlove

Summary: Finn and Logan were soulmates, and had been since the moment they were born. Both had a journal filled with messages to each other, given to everyone once they turned 18. When Leo turned 18, he opened his journal to discover something rather peculiar. What did one do with two soulmates?

Sorry the summary is shit, I suck at them :) Journal entries are in italics and text messages are in bold because tumblr won’t let me underline. Hope you guys enjoy, leave a comment and I’ll love you forever <3

Leo stared down at the paper in front of him. His mind had gone blank when he’d opened the book. His soulmate journal, given to him today, on his 18th birthday. He had imagined this going hundreds of different ways. It had consumed his every waking thought for the past six months at least, what he would say, how his soulmate would respond, the possibility of words waiting for him already. What he hadn’t imagined was the words from two distinct hands written on the pages.

He thumbed through the book as word after word flashed by. Conversations flowed between these two people, going back nearly three years, according to the dates on each page. The handwritings were different. One was messy, scrawled, and Leo caught a few words of French here and there. The other was neater, script-like, and the ink was dark and consistent.

Unsure what to do, Leo began reading some of the journal. He had never heard of this happening before; he wondered if the other two knew.

What’re you doing up, it’s nearly 3 am? was the first thing Leo’s eyes fell upon.

Can’t sleep. What’re you doing up?

Reading. But that’s irrelevant. Go to bed. I’ll be here when you wake up.

Okay fine. Night, Fish.

Night.

Leo could feel the affection between the two, even just from those simple words. He kept reading, flipping back through conversations that felt too private for him to be reading. His eyes found the words “I love you” written in big stark letters, filling nearly half a page. He slammed the book shut.

What was happening? Why did these two already seem to have a life? Why were they in his soulmate journal? He pushed back the tears forming in his eyes and slowly opened it again. Words began appearing on the page.

Finn, you there?

A moment later, answering words appeared, Yeah, what’s up?

Shit day. Then, I miss you.

Leo wasn’t sure how to feel about all of this. He didn’t know who these people were, why they were in his journal, what to make of the clear connection they had. The best way, he supposed, to resolve this was to see who they were.

Hesitantly, Leo grabbed a pen and set it to a blank page.

Hello?

Umm… hi? one of them wrote back quickly, the messy one.

Who are you? the other, Finn, added.

I’m Leo, he wrote, unsure of what else to say. I just got my soulmate journal, he added.

There was no answer for a while. Leo had just about given up when words began appearing on the page.

This is our journal. We’ve had it for about four years now. I’m Logan, by the way, he added.

I’m Finn.

Uh, well it’s nice to meet you both.

Neither Finn nor Logan were sure what to make of the situation. Finn grabbed his phone, watching Leo’s words spread across the page, telling them about who he was and what he’d discovered when he’d opened his journal for the first time that morning.

Lo, is it even possible he’s also our soulmate? Is that even a thing? He sent the message to Logan, turning back to the journal.

Leo, where are you from? he asked curiously.

New Orleans, came the response. Born and raised. What about you both?

New York City, Finn responded right before his phone pinged.

He pulled up Logan’s response. I’m not sure, maybe? I’ve never heard of this happening before but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t.

Quebec, came Logan’s response in the journal a moment later. Leo answered, but Finn wasn’t paying attention.

He was focused on the message on his screen, mind running through all the soulmate stories and tales he’d heard over the years. He remembered his brother getting his, being ecstatic at the messages he’d received. His friends all getting theirs, writing excitedly to their soulmates from the first moment. Even his parents talked fondly about it, the two of them meeting after a year and already being in love. None of them had two soulmates.

But then, in the back of his mind, a memory surfaced. His grandmother, telling him a story, late one night when he couldn’t sleep, about her best friend from high school. She had had a girlfriend when they went off for college, her soulmate. When they connected some years later there had been a boy too. She had never questioned it. After all, this had been the 60s. People didn’t ask questions like that.

But maybe it was possible. Maybe this could explain the hole that still seemed to exist between him and Logan, no matter how much they loved each other.

As the months passed, Leo slowly made it through the journal. Finn and Logan had both given him permission to read it, although initially he had been surprised. He barely knew these people, why were they trusting him with their deepest secrets? But Finn said that’s what a soulmate journal was for and so Leo spent each night before bed reading a few pages, getting to know his apparent soulmates better and better with each word.

He learned that Finn was a year older than Logan, 23 now, and his birthday was in August. Logan’s was in December, four days before Christmas. He read page upon page about their siblings, Finn’s older brother and Logan’s three older sisters. He wondered briefly what it was like living with siblings.

They’d met before, in person, two years ago, Logan flying from Quebec, where he lived, to New York City for New Years. Leo’s heart ached when he read that. He wondered what the city had been like, what it had been like when they met.

He wished he could meet them.

He learned the small things about them, too. Logan had a terrible sweet-tooth. He was French-Canadian and could speak it fluently. (Canadian French was very different from New Orleans French). He couldn’t dance to save his life, despite his sisters trying. Finn knew how to figure skate, but had switched to hockey early on. He still kept up with it.The only food he could make without burning was hot chocolate the way his brother showed him. Finn liked to feel useful, to make people feel better. He liked to read. He liked to write letters to Logan while he slept. And Logan would scold him for staying up late, then absolutely melt at the words written on the page.

Leo wanted one of those letters.

By the time he reached the entry from his birthday, three months had passed. It was quickly becoming summer in New Orleans, despite it being only May. As he got to know his boys better, and they got to know him, Leo wished more and more that he could meet them, see them. He wished he’d known them four years ago when they first met. He wished they’d had that time together.

He wanted them to fall in love with him.

Hey Le! Logan wrote cheerfully late one afternoon. Leo sat outside in the shade of a nearby tree, flipping aimlessly through the journal. He felt conflicted. But the nickname sent flutters through his heart. What’re you up to?

Not much, he replied. Sitting in the garden. What’re you up to?

You have a garden?

Leo chuckled. Yeah. I can see the ocean from here actually.

You can see the ocean?? Jealous.

Yeah, it’s also 85 degrees.

Nope, I’m out.

That made him laugh again. That’s what I thought.

I just don’t know how you do it! It’s like a million fucking degrees there all the time. I would actually die.

And it’s always a million fucking degrees below freezing where you live.

….touché. Leo could sense his reluctance through the paper. He wished desperately to see Logan’s face in that moment, see the pout he undoubtedly was wearing right then. To kiss it away, maybe press him back against his bed…

No. He wouldn’t let himself think of that. Because if he started down that path there was no coming back. And he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

Finn we need to talk

The text came one day as Finn was getting ready for bed. He paused in brushing his teeth, typing out a response.

FaceTime in 5?

Sounds good

If he was being honest with himself, Finn had expected this a while ago. He had known it was coming, knew it needed to happen. From that first message, Logan laughed at something Leo had written. Finn knew in that moment he was gone. They both were. The only problem now was how to say it.

The ringing of his phone shook him from his thoughts.

“Hey, Lo,” he answered as the call connected.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

“We need to talk.”

“Yeah, I gathered that from your text.” Logan didn’t laugh, and that’s when Finn knew this was really bothering him.

“Logan, I know what this is about. It’s okay.” Logan’s eyes snapped to his face.

“What- how?”

“Babe, you’re not exactly subtle. And, well, neither am I. I know it’s about Leo. It’s okay.”

Logan sighed. “I just- I know he’s our soulmate, obviously. But it still feels like I’m betraying you? How can I love both of you? How does that even work?” Finn’s eyes widened at Logan’s words.

“You love us? Both of us?”

“Harzy, how could I not? You’re my soulmates. But it’s more than that. I love you for you, not just because of some match in the system. And I want us, all of us, to be together.”

Finn was quiet for a long time. Eventually, he said quietly, “That’s why we never made sense. Why there always seemed to be a, a hole. We need Leo to complete us.”

Logan smiled. “Exactly.”

Leo, you there? Finn wrote.

Yeah, came the reply a moment later.

We have something we want to tell you.

We?

Hi Nut, Logan added hurriedly. Finn smiled at him through the phone screen. He wished he was there in person. He wished both of them were.

Logan?

Yeah, it’s me. Fish and I talked. About this, us. We want-

“Don’t take my moment!” Finn scolded playfully. “Besides, no one can read your shitty writing, I would know.” Logan pouted, but let Finn continue.

Sorry about that. What we were trying to say is that we want you. If you’ll have us. I know all of this is new for you, it is for us too. But we need you. You’re the missing piece of our puzzle, and we don’t work if we don’t have you.

Leo read the words over and over. Silence buzzed in his ears. It didn’t seem real, that these two boys, who had been each other's for so long, now wanted him. His mind couldn’t make sense of it all, of the love he could feel even through the thin pages of his notebook.

Leo, you there?

I’m here, he managed. I just don’t know what to say.

Good or bad? Finn asked cautiously.

Good, he laughed. Of course I want you two, do you know how long I’ve wished for this to happen?

Oh yeah? Tell us.

“Logan!”

“Sorry.”

Okay, you don’t have to tell us. But please tell me you’ll come see us? I need to see your face.

Please? Finn added for good measure.

Leo could have jumped up and down in that moment. Of course I will come visit. Of course. Then, a moment later, heart in his throat, he added, I love you guys.

#o'knutzy #cubs #lumosinlove #coast to coast #soulmate au #how do i write relationships #plot? what's that #falling in love #remus john lupin #advent #december 19

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alice-angel12x · 4 years ago

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(Ouran high school)☁Haruhi x Fem!Reader

"Come on Y/n the host club will be fun. I set an appointment with a cute boy named Haruhi," Bella said as she dragged Y/n to the music room.

"Fine, but can we make this quick, I wanted to try out my skateboard," Y/n groaned as Bella pushed open the doors.

Rose petals blew past them as multiple men stood waiting to greet them. Bella's face was beet red, while Y/n just stood with an unimpressed face as she pulled out her phone. Bella quickly dragged her to a table with a cute looking boy with short brown hair and brown eyes. Bella babbled away with the "boy" Haruhi, while Y/n just mindlessly poked her cake.

"Bella oh I'm sorry I have to cut my appointment short my Father came early, but have fun talking with Y/n," Bella said as she dashed out of the club room.

"Wait, what?!" Y/n asked as she looked up from her phone.

The two sat in awkward silence, till Y/n spoke up.

"So Haruhi, why are you apart of a boys host club when you're a girl?" Y/n asked bluntly.

Haruhi just stared in shock, She stuttered as she tried to come up with some excuse.

" if it's a touchy topic you don't have to answer, I could just leave," Y/n suggested.

"No, no it's fine. I'm surprised you were able to pick up on that so fast," Haruhi laughed nervesly.

"I can tell when another girl is in a boy's uniform, just have sharp instincts. Don't worry I like the boy's uniform too," Y/n smiled as she leaned back in her seat.

"You wearing the male's uniform cause you like it?" Haruhi asked.

"Yeah, I think the girl uniforms look terrible," Y/n whispered with a giggle, " What about you?"

With a sigh, Haruhi recapped how she got into this club, what she had to put up with, and all the crazy adventures up till this point. Y/n listened closely as she took in all of Haruhi's stories and mini-rant tangents, all with a kind smile.

"Wow, sounds like you've had a crazy month, but damn eight million yen that's crazy," Y/n gasped as she put down her coffee.

"I know and there were some times they threatened to reveal my secret and put me back down to errand boy, or the dog they would call me," Haruhi sighed as she rested her arms on the table.

"Man if they called me a dog I would tell them where they could stick that coffee," Y/n said as she took a bite of her cake.

"I wish I had the guts to say stuff like that, but I'd rather not draw attention to myself and maintain my grades," Haruki chuckled.

"Oh yeah, you got in through scholarly recommendations right?" Y/n asked.

"Yeah, I didn't come from a rich well-off family. I got in cause I scored really well in the entrance exam," Harui explained.

"Sweet, hey could you like tutor me in this history class?" Y/n asked slowly.

"Tutor, can't you hire some personal tutors? I mean a lot of the other students hire personal tutors," Haruhi said in slight shock.

"Well, my grandmother isn't too keen on may for stuff like that, so I'm kind of poor," Y/n smiled nervesly.

------

After father left, he took my older sister and all the money with him to who knows where. Leaving me and my mother in poverty, till my grandmother on my father's side came by and started supporting us. Course she didn't do this out of the kindness of her heart for her family, she wanted to raise and groom me to be a perfect bride for another wealthy family. So we may leave better lives, she is only paying just enough to rely on her.

----

With a soft smile, Haruhi agreed to Y/n's straightforward request, so they quickly exchanged numbers to keep in touch. With a goodby Y/n skateboarded out of the music room, Kyoya came up with a serious look.

"Haruhi your next appointments are waiting, and handing out numbers isn't allowed," He said as he snatched Y/n's written phone number.

Haruhi sighed in relief when her phone pinged with a notification of a text. Turning her body so Kyoya couldn't see, it was a simple hello text form Y/n. Haruhi smiled as she slipped her phone back into her pocket.

------

(5 months later)

The two friends grew closer with each study session at Haruhi's house, and sometimes they would wander the town together instead of study. Haruhi learned many neat things about her cross-dressing friend. How Y/n is a self-made rich student, who started her own company to have some independence from her Grandmother. Yet she had to keep it on the down-low or else her grandmother could just buy out the company.

Haruhi gained great respect for her for that reason, someone who made her wealth and wasn't born into it. It was nice having a friend in Ouran who didn't see Haruhi as someone who is an ignorant commoner cause of social class, or rudely comment about her not so lavish things.

The host club started to notice Haruhi's more chipper attitude lately, and they were very curious as to why. She would always look up at the clock every so often and appeared to be waiting for someone specific.

"Wonder who Haruhi waiting for?" Koaru wondered.

"Maybe Haruhi is waiting for her crush or something?" Honey suggested.

"Wait what?!" Tamaki gasped in horror.

Suddenly the music door room opened and the other cross-dressing student rushed in. Tamaki and the twins watch from a distance from behind the couch as they watched the two cross-dressers talked and laughed over some cake.

"Who is that guy?" Hikaru wondered as his heart twisted slightly.

"That is Y/n L/n, She and her mother are supported by the Tenshin family head. Her only connection is that she is the daughter of the oldest son, but the parents divorced and know her and her mother live on the Tenshin's support," Kyoya explained.

"What does that mean?" Honey asked.

"It means the head is giving them money to live, and without them. She and her mother would live in poverty, the lower class," Kyoya sighed.

"So She's a commoner like Haruhi, makes sense why they would get along," Kaoru said simply.

But hen the group looked back The two were gone. They gasped as they looked around till they noticed that the door to the club was wide open.

-------

"So that's what happened to those guys. Wow, they sure got guts sneaking onto a private beach like that. Sucks I couldn't be there, maybe I could have helped," Y/n sighed as the two sat on the roof on a lone bench.

"It's alright, Tamaki would have just gotten mad at us for trying to fight off the boys, cause were girls," Haruhi sighed as she leaned slightly on her friend.

"Cause were girls. Wow maybe it's best he never said that to me, Or else I would have kicked him where the sun doesn't shine," Y/n laughed, " But I guess I could see where he's coming. Boys are just built stronger than girls. Though, now I know that these boys really care about you, which is good to hear,"

Y/n slowly leaned on Haruhi, as they watched the sunset behind the trees. Haruhi's cheeks pinked slightly as she felt Y/n's hand slowly hold hers.

"Umm, hey. My dad is going to bring home stuff to make a large dinner, so I was wondering if you wanted to join us for dinner?" Haruhi asked as she slowly tightened her grip on Y/n's hand.

"Don't you have a club party to be at tonight?" Y/n asked.

"Y-yeah, but, I just want to spend more time with you," Haruhi said wistfully.

"Alright, I'll pay double to make up for the time you were off. You gotta pay off that debt," Y/n smiled.

"Thank's Y/n... I love you," Haruhi smiled.

"I love you too," Y/n said rest her head on Haruhi's shoulder.

____

#ouran high school host club #haruhi x reader #Ouran high school host club x reader

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hs-devote · 4 years ago

Text

iii. láthi: the lie

Moodboard * Content * Masterlist

Disclaimer:

All characters and situation in this story are fictitious. Resemblance to any person living or dead is only God knows.

chapter ii. láthi: the touch

iii. the lie

The sex was addictive. The pair of different realm creatures loved each other's touch on their warm skin, the thirst of having sex, and the lust over each other's taste, making them unable to put their sexual needs aside. If they have the opportunity, Harry didn't hesitate to give a signal to Y/N, who of course, was accepted shyly by her.

And it's been almost a few weeks.

“Does it hurt?” Harry murmurs while gasping for breath after he came, rubbing the bruises mark on her hips, “I'm sorry if I was too rough.”

“It's okay, H. You're just too carried away.” Y/N shakes her head, tracing a little of his chest hair with her fingertips. “I'm a bit sore but nothing to worry about."

“Good then, I just wanna make you feel good.” he sighs, then dropping his body next to her. His muscular arm pulling her to him, providing warmth through their naked bodies. Y/N breathe in content after he pulled the duvet over them.

“I have one nagging question in my mind.”

"What's that?" she snuggles deeper to his neck, kissing the sweaty skin with full adoration.

“Why did you let me be your first?" he curiously asks, "I mean, you're beautiful and kind. "There must be a lot of males who are attracted to you. And, why me?"

“Because I trust you, H.” she answers softly, “I haven't dated yet because I don't have a good sense of trust. I saw my friends who got dumped with men easily, leaving them heartbroken. And.. I haven't brave yet to suffer such pain.”

“I know you're a good man and I trust you." she adds later.

Harry exhales while rubbing her temples, looking at her straight in the eye. Both of them just stare at each other, let the time perpetuate their togetherness. The man only gives her a soft smile before locking their lips together. Unfortunately, Harry's desire to continue their second session is thwarted by the open door of Y/N's house.

“Mia cara?”

The pair hurriedly move away from each other when they heard Ilitia's voice. Harry's picking up his clothes on the floor in rush and gets dressed while Y/N looking annoyed trying to find her clothes.

“I'll go out first before your grandmother gets suspicious.” he chuckles, ruffing her unruly hair and leaving her alone in the bedroom.

“Harry?”

The man startled when Ilitia standing in front of him with her signature smile while he nervously scratches his neck trying to calm him down. They almost got caught, and Harry couldn't imagine her face if she caught her beloved granddaughter being fucked with a man.

“Uh, hi. I just came from the bathroom.” he speaks then averting his gaze to the bathroom next to his lover’s bedroom, “I think Y/N is in her room if you’re looking for her.” then looking back at the old woman.

“Granny, hi!” Y/N appears from behind him not long after and smiling awkwardly. Her eyes occasionally glance at her grandmother who looks at Harry sceptically and him, who's standing next to her uncomfortably.

"I think I should go now." he breaks the silence, eyeing her with the corner of his eyes, "Thank you for the.. Yorkshire Pudding, Y/N.”

The girl just stares at him dumbfounded while the only thing he does is winking at her. As if she understands what Harry meant, Y/N just blinks and nods quickly like a doll.

“Later, love.” Harry smiles at her, and of course not forgetting Ilitia, “See you next time, ma'am.”

“You don't want to stay any longer, Harry?” Ilitia asks.

"I want to but I still have other work," he refuses politely, "Goodbye, ladies."

With that, Harry walts out from their sight leaving both the woman in the middle of the dining room. Not wanting Ilitia to ask odd questions, Y/N immediately excuses herself to do the laundry.

Meanwhile, Harry has returned to his cottage because he will return to Centauri for a few days tonight. He doesn't forget to text Y/N that he's going out of town for a few days for work so she's not confused about his whereabouts. Of course, she was asking about this suddenness and he lied that he had just been informed by his boss. He felt a little guilty about lying to her, but he couldn’t possibly tell the truth, could he?

Later that night, Harry arrives at Centauri with no difficulties. All the servant, guards, and his people welcoming his arrival with such respect. It feels so great to be able to return to his realm, back to being the ruler of his almighty realm and sitting on his throne. He feels so strong and powerful when he's back to Centauri.

When he steps into the throne room, Selene quickly approaches him with a jog, crashing her petite body into the man she had missed so much.

“Oh, my dear. I miss you so much.” Selene mumbles in his chest, her fingers crumple his shirt fabric. She's so happy to be back in her husband's arms.

"Darling. Why are you still up in this such ungodly hour? Why don't you rest?” Harry smiles into her hair.

“I heard from the guard they opened the gate because you're home. I don't want to miss my husband's return.”

He sighs softly as he breaks their hug, both his hand gripping her shoulder delicately. Selene just smiles, before tugging his hand to follow her to their bed-chamber. The Goddess doesn't want to lose this opportunity. Being her husband back at home, she wants to spend time alone with Harry intimately.

“How's your mission, my dear? Any luck?” Selene hums, rubbing his arms innocently.

“I know it's been weeks on Earth time and only days on Centauri time, but I haven't found the Goddess yet.” he shook his head, “But, I've talked to the Ocean. They said we'll have children one day and definitely find that Goddess.”

“But, it's been too long, my dear. I can't let you linger on Earth.”

“I know, darling. And I'm sorry. We have to be patient, Selene. You know it would take longer if our common guard who did it. They didn't have the ability to sense the sacred Goddess.”

“And why the ocean? She's hiding on the land, not in the water, right?”

“Yes, because the Ocean is the second soul of the Goddess of Birth.” Harry pats her shoulder, “I couldn't just ask them where the Goddess is. They'll keep me apart from the Goddess if I did that.”

Selene hums softly when they reach the front of their bed-chamber, her hand pushes gently the massive double oak door and pulls her husband inside.

“How's your day on Earth?”

“Tired and.. fun. Worth with what we'll get.”

"I'm curious. You seem so at home there until it took you today to come home only for a moment." Selene stands in front of him, raising an eyebrow at him.

“The people are very nice and kind."

“Is that so?”

“Mhm..”

“Very well,” Selene bites her lip, “Is there something you didn't tell me, my dear?”

His wife's questions catching him off guard. What does she mean? He didn't lie to her about anything. Why did Selene say that?

"I don't understand? I told you what you asked." Harry looks at her with concern, "Is there anything I haven't answered?"

“Don't lie to me, Harry.” Selene finally opens her mouth, “You're not honest with me.”

“Selene, I– ”

"You're seeing someone behind my back!" her voice roars all over their bed-chamber, even he swears he felt the room shaking even if only a little. What got into Selene to scream at him? If normally his God head thinking quickly, this time it seems like he's having a little trouble digesting the sentence that Selene had just said.

Then it clicks.

Y/N.

How could his wife know if he's indeed seeing someone behind her back?

“I'm not, Selene. If you're talking about the ladies who talked to me, they're nothing more than friends. They only talked to me, nothing more.” he denies, “I’m yours, Selene. There's no way I betrayed you.”

"Don't lie to me, Harry." she grits her shiny teeth, "If you keep lying to me, I swear–"

“My darling, Selene.” he clears his throat, “No matter how hard you argued, my answer is still the same. I wasn't, I'm not seeing someone or dating someone behind your back. Why would I do that? I have you, my wife, all my life.”

“Fine then if you keep in denial. I swear Harry, if you're proven to do that, you'll regret lying to me.”

With that, Selene walks out from their grand bed-chamber, leaving her husband alone with a loud thud of the closing door. Throughout the night, Harry keeps thinking how the hell his wife knows he’s seeing another woman. Did she know when she visited him on Earth, or she sent the Centaurian people to stalked him at the Town Hall at that time? Well, just thinking about that makes his head hurt, and choose to rest since it took so much energy for him into getting here. . . . .

Selene doesn't speak a word to Harry for almost two days. Her temper is still bad so her husband has to think about how to make her not prejudice. Albeit she's a jealous person and quite reckless, it isn't hard for him to soften her. His Selene loves nice cuddles and good fuck.. and that's his way to swoon and win her heart.

"Darling," Harry approaches his wife who had just finished her bath, with a few maids helping her to get dressed. Seeing their Gods seems to want privacy together with the Goddess, they excuse themselves, leaving their majesties alone.

Selene ignores him, busy applying olive oil to her body with her back facing him. Seeing his wife still looks annoyed, Harry doesn't give up and taking a step closer. He slowly put his hands on her shoulder, giving her a gentle massage.

“How long do you want to keep annoyed with me?” he whispers, bringing his hot mouth to kissing her bare shoulder, “I've told you I wasn't seeing someone.”

“I miss you,” he adds, “Don't you miss me?” then he lands wet kisses along her neck while his finger running along her arms.

He smirks instantly when Selene squirms under his touch, feeling something stir inside her. There's no way she denies the longing for her husband that was eating her away. She let out a sharp breath when Harry sucks her throat, letting the bruises forming for everyone to know.

“It seems you do miss me.” he hums on her ears, squeezing her hips to make her choke on her breath. He quickly turns her body to face him, and hungrily kissing her lips. With her defences have collapsed, Selene gladly kisses him back with so much passion. She runs her finger through his curls, tugging them a little when her husband licks her lower lip. It doesn't take long for Harry to push her body slowly to lie down on their bed with their lips still locking to each other. He eagerly caressing Selene's body under him, feeling the sensitive skin reacts with his touch.

“How long haven't we been like this?” his voice barely whisper when he breaks the kiss, his breath is gasping for oxygen as much as possible.

Selene just shakes her head, not answering his question. Instead, she cradles his face closer to kiss him again. While their lips savouring each other, her hands begin to take off her husband’s clothes. Selene slowly takes Harry's face away from her, taking a moment to admire her husband in his naked glory. She never gets bored and always craves his body even though they had been together for years.

“I miss this,” she mumbles, touching his abs and running her finger from his chest to his stomach. She hums while her index finger feelings his happy trails, “And I miss.. him.”

Harry choked on his breath when Selene groping his stiffened length, giving him a firm squeeze. The woman just smirks, letting her hand giving her husband a few good pump before releasing him. Yet, things turn around when he spread her legs wide open and buries his head between her thighs. She cries as Harry sucking her clit before leaving wet licks. Her legs tremble when he blows a deep breath into her entrance, then putting a single finger inside her.

“Harry..”

He pumps into her slowly, then faster his move while adding the second finger. Selene's moan gets louder when his fingers work on her, so fast until it makes her grasping his head reflexively. While his fingers work his way in and out of her, his mouth working magically – giving small bites to her inner thighs.

"I'm close, I'm close." Selene feels it, her eyes squint tightly when the wave is coming. She curses out when his pumping fingers sliding in and out of her with no mercy. She almost screams in annoyance when Harry suddenly pulls his finger from her, yet she immediately whines in pleasure when he pushes his length inside her.

The Goddess rolls her eyes when her husband roll in and out her hard – making their bed shaking violently. She mewls as Harry picking up his speed, rocking their hips together. The couple sighs in relief when they ride their high together, moaning into each other mouth and feeling the adrenaline running through their veins.

Without having to pull himself out, Harry collapse next to her while bringing her body close to him, feeling their body heat and sweat sticking on their skin. Both of them keeping their mouth shut, too much enjoying each other presence. While Harry closes his eyes to regain his breath, Selene enjoys the silence by stroking his warm skin. She giggles when she realises her nails leaving scratches around his back. She doesn't even aware when her hands were creeping up his back.

"We'll have a lot of sex after we find the Goddess and she helps me to conceive, you know? After she blesses me, we're going to make lots of babies." Selene speaks while she kisses his sweaty neck, “But for now, enjoy our time together before we make babies.”

Harry let out a breathy laugh as he opens his eyes, looking at Selene who's now on top and ready for the second round. Cockily, he raises his eyebrow while griping her hips, “Looks now who's smitten after the sex?”

Selene snorts before kissing her husband and lifts her hip as he guides her to make her way into his length. And it isn't secret for anyone in the castle that their God and Goddess are sex-crazed. . . . .

Harry has returned to Earth a few days ago. When he was in Centauri, a lot of task as the ruler he has done. From the meeting with his advisor and council to small tasks like monitoring the border guards practising. He realised, the longer he left Centauri, the more tasks he had to face later. He could have entrusted them to his advisor or even Selene, but he's a perfectionist and doesn't easily entrust them to other people.

Like he always does, he will buy new flowers to replace the old one that has withered since he left. Of course, he's planning to buy them at Y/N's, but he thinks to bring her something for making up her day without him.

Yet, when he's about to change his clothes, someone's knocking his door. He doesn't remember inviting anyone to come to his cottage, he doesn't even know his neighbour anyway. And it cannot be Selene, they just met a few days ago!

Nevertheless, he opens the door and very surprised when he finds Y/N standing on his porch with two bouquets of roses in both hands, smiling broadly at him.

“Hi, Harry. Am I bothering you?”

“No,” he stunned, “Why didn't you tell me you would come? I just wanted to see you.”

She shrugs, “I think you're still quite tired from travelling so I think it doesn't hurt if I brought some flowers for you. I believe your old ones were withered, weren't they?”

“Very thoughtful of you,” he smiles and opening the door wider for her to come, “Come in, love.”

“Thanks, H.” she giggles, waiting for Harry to close the door and escort her in. Y/N is comfortable enough on her own to replace the old flowers with the fresh roses she brought with her. Of course this isn't her first time being here, she has been trusted by him to move around freely. She often spends time together with him here after all.

“Why roses?” Harry chimes in while watching the girl putting the vase in the corner, “And why, white?”

“Honestly? I don't know..” she laughs, “But, every time I see roses, I remember you. Roses are generally defined as compassion, care, passion.. which is it's you. And the white one adds the thoughtful, innocence, and purity – which reminds me of you, too.”

“So, you consider me as roses?” he teases her.

“I.. guess?” she giggles, “And roses are beautiful. And you're beautiful.”

“Thank you for the compliment, love.” he snickers while walking closer to her, “I enjoy all the compliments.”

“Get used to that.” Y/N sticks out her tongue before leaving him to the kitchen. Harry just chuckles and shaking his head before following her behind. He smiles softly before slipping his arms around her waist from behind, putting his chin on her shoulder making her flinched in surprised.

“I miss you,” he whispers, his nose sniffs her neck which smells like the flowers she brought earlier. Closing his eyes, Harry takes a long breath letting the smell filling his nose. He grins while tightening his arms around her, “You smell good.”

“I'm working with tons of flowers, of course I am.” Y/N jokes while rubbing his knuckles. Then, she sighs as Harry kissing down her throat.

She misses this.

She misses his touch, his skin.

She misses him.

Wasting no time, she yanks him and grabbing his head down. She kisses him with her hands cupping his sharp jaw while letting his hands wandering all over her warm skin. She's smiling into the kiss when their tongues dancing with each other. As for Harry, he never gets tired to always give her the best kiss. Even though Y/N had tapped his shoulder as a signal of her running out of breath, Harry was always never enough.

“Harry.." Y/N whines as she pushes him away a little, her chest is up and down – panting heavily. "I miss you, too. But, let me breathe first..”

The man himself breaks a smile, sweeping her hair strands away before pulling back her hips and giving her smooch. Despite Y/N is only able to breathe for a moment, she doesn't deny that his kisses are addicting. The two of them cannot stay long without feeling each other's lips.

Harry makes the move first, taking her hand to follow him to his bedroom. As soon as they get to his room, he immediately gives her a quick peck on her lips before bringing his hand to unbutton the front of her dress. While he's working on her dress, Y/N starting to take off his white crisp shirt and getting help from the man when she unzipping his trouser.

Now, the two of them only in their underwear, still with the awe look on their face when adoring each other's body. If usually Harry is the aggressive one in the bed, this time Y/N who's the one who gently takes his hand and brings him to the bed with her. She misses him so much, and she doesn't want to waste the time. She hungrily kisses his lips once Harry hovering her, her hands running down from his chest to where his boxer hanging low on his hips. With one swift move, she manages to remove the fabric and make his already stiff length spring free between his thighs. Her hands snarkily creeping to his pride and squeeze him softly, only to make him choked on his breath.

“Such a tease,” he scoffs while pulling her bra strap, “Baby loves to tease, does she?”

She yelps when Harry releases the pull of the strap giving her skin hard slap. She mewls when he grinds his length to her clothed centre, giving her a taste of his shaft before his hands go under her back to unclasp her lacy maroon bra. The woman sighs in relief when the bra loosened and fall of her body with his help. Yet, a second later she rolls her head and arching her back when Harry sucks her nipple as his hand stroking her other breast. She reflexively wraps her legs around his body to keep him still, not wanting to let him go.

“Harry..” she cries out at the same time he tugs her nipple with his teeth, giving wet licks before sucks it again.

“Oh my.. Oh my...” she throws her head to the side as he running down his wet lips from her breast to her belly button, and peppering a few kitten licks before he tugs down her knicker. The cold air instantly hit her exposed centre making her squirm, but the squirming becomes even more intense when Harry spreading her legs wide open and dug his head down to taste her down there.

"You're so wet." he hums as he breathed into her, then he lifts his head to peek at her. Watching his girl squinting her eyes hard as he works his finger on her. He licks his bottom lips for the satisfaction of Y/N bucking her hips into his finger.

“Harry please, I need you.” she whimpers, “Please.. please.”

“What? My fingers working on you as we speak now.” he teases her even more by adding the second and third finger into her at the same time making her moan even more.

“Ah!” she screams as Harry pumping her in and out faster, he smirks as her wall tightening and squeezing his fingers deliciously. Not long after, she cum on his fingers along with long moan coming out from her mouth. He instantly pulls his fingers and cleaning his coated digits with his mouth while keeping the eye contact with her.

“We're not done yet, baby.”

“Want you.” she begs him while puckering her swollen lips.

“Mhm?” he wiggles his eyebrow, crawling on top her and landing a soft kiss on her forehead. Y/N smiles meekly and wrapping her arms around his shoulder. Both of them moan in pleasure while Harry pushes his length into her until he buries deeply on her.

He let him still, buried deep into her, letting Y/N adjust before he moves. He starts with slow and careful movements and begins to move faster when she gives him an okay.

“Harry.. Harry...” Y/N moans on his neck while Harry rocking his hips fastly on her, rolling in and out harder until their movement shaking his bed. His bedpost squeaked, making the headboard also jerking to the wall every time he thrusting into her with full force.

“Harry!” she cries louder as she arches her back making her breast up into the air, feeling him full and loaded inside her. She tilts her head back and forth because of the pleasure, not aware that the sheets come off of the mattress.

“I'm close... I'm.. I'm gonna-”

“Cum on me baby, cum for me.” Harry grits his teeth as he keep thrusting into her, gripping her hips hard, and he's sure it will leave some bruises later but he doesn't care.

“Oh my god!”

Y/N whimpers loudly when she reaches her high the second time, her sore breast rising up and down – gasping for the breath. She shuts her eyes for a moment, feeling the pleasure drains her energy. But, Harry doesn't give her pause, he pulls himself out and with a single beat, pushing his cock all the way inside her making Y/N chokes on her breath.

“Yes, yes..”

She gasps, digging her nails to his back – feeling the fullness of him on her. She moans, whimpers, and cries out every time his tips nudges her with their sweaty skin slapping each other. He's full inside her and she never feels this good.

Then, it hits her.

She feels him twitch inside her, ready to spill his seed into her.

“Y/N, oh.. fuck. I'm gonna cum..” he moans in her mouth, his hand sliding under her back and holding her close. And when he spurts his thick cum into her, both of them moaning each other name together as the waves hit them. Harry shut his eyes closes as he let his fluid spilling warmly inside her. When he opens his eyes, the girl underneath him is looking straightly at his green eyes, her flushed face signifies how great their sex is. Her messy hair, lips were swollen and sweat running down her beautiful face.

Yet, Harry hasn't satisfied.

After letting her grab her losing breath, he pulls out from her and slowly takes the tip of the curtain dangling from the canopy bed, tied it to the bedpost before tying it to her legs and arms, making the woman spread out like a starfish.

"What are you doing?" she asks in bewilderment, feeling a little helpless with her hands and feet tied up. Nevertheless, she trusts him enough. She believes he won't hurt her.

“Ha – oh!” she gasps when he buries his face down her thighs, running his nose behind her inner thighs, smelling his cum that too much for her cunt to handle until it flowed. She tastes just like her usual state, sweet and wet, with a bit of him.

Harry loves it.

He loves it when his girl tastes like the mix of him and her.

Sweet as honey, yet strong like him.

“Harry!”

He flicks his lips in her core, teasing her bundle of nerves with his tongue before sucking the fluid. He doesn't forget to leave marks by small biting her delicate skin, sucking them harsh. He holds her still when she's bucking her hips to her, but Harry cannot give her what she wants that easy.

“Easy, tiger.” he hums, rubbing her clit softly. He chuckles before squeezing her boobs together while his mouth does a wonder on her down there. He feels so strong and powerful, while his girls feeling helpless – not being able to touch him.

“Oh.. Oh!”

The only thing they hear is their moans, their scream of pleasure. Unaware that someone had just opened the front door. While Harry is fucking the helpless Y/N underneath him, rocking himself in and out with the utmost lust, the Goddess of Centauri. His wife. Selene, standing behind the half-closed door watching her husband having a kind of passionate sex with another woman. Not just a woman, yet a mortal creature.

Selene knows it.

She was suspicious from the start.

Her husband is having affair with someone.

Her husband is cheating on her.

A mortal human is seducing her husband.

How come Harry be seduced by the despicable, mortal, and lowly creature. A human?

She cannot allow this.

No.

Without making any sound, Selene disappeared in the blink of an eye – letting the pair fulfil their desires. *

hweelloo... ;)

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles series #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #god harry styles #romance #fanfiction

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wonjaekook · 4 years ago

Text

beneath the daylight moon

CHAPTER 3.

Read Chapter 2 here!

“Why do we sometimes see the moon, even during the daytime?”

Jaehyun didn’t know, nor did he care to notice that such a thing existed; it was a mystery to him, but you were a bigger enigma.

Jaehyun lowered his phone from his ear, nearly dropping it as he stared at the man opposite him. You and Jaehyun both spoke up at the same time, two voices raised in unison to ask the same thing. A name, which in this case served as a question of its own.

“Johnny?”

It took Jaehyun a moment to process that you had just said his best friend’s name and he had to muster all the self-control that he could manage to not to turn and look at you in shock. Instead, he swallowed hard, continuing to stare at Johnny. He rose from the bench slowly, but quickly hurried over, a short laugh leaving his throat as he embraced him.

“When you asked for my address, I thought you were going to send me a package or something,” Jaehyun said through a grin, giving his friend a solid smack on the shoulder as they part, “not this.”

“Getting into the building was the hard part. I could’ve just gotten your address from Mark. Thankfully, your grandma was home to buzz me in. I think she loves me already.” Johnny’s familiar grin was like a piece of home. One would think that Jaehyun had gotten used to moving around, as he’d done so his entire life, but being in a new place was always somewhat strange. It was nice to see his friend again.

“Of course she does,” he said, unable to hide the happiness in his voice. “Are you here for business or for pleasure, then?”

“Why not both?” As Johnny started to talk more, Jaehyun remembered you. He did his best to resist looking over his shoulder at the place where he left you, but shifted on his feet impatiently as time went on. “...so, I hope your weekend is free so we can check the place out.”

Jaehyun nodded somewhat absentmindedly. “Yeah, sure, I’m free.”

“Since I’m here, do you want to do something now? Unless I interrupted you here?” Johnny’s eyes were warm, a soft caramel brown that shined with obliviousness.

“I can finish this up tomorrow afternoon.” He said it loudly enough that he hoped you heard. Though he didn’t leave off with much more to say to you, he felt like the conversation wasn’t even close to over. That’s how it always goes with you - something left unsaid, unfinished. One of the two of you always has to leave and, this time, it’s him. “I’ll make you something good for dinner as a welcome back meal.”

“I thought you’d never offer.” Johnny turned back towards the entrance to the roof, then stopped a moment later and faced outwards again, taking in the view. “By the way… it’s really nice up here.”

Jaehyun turned as well, following the general sweep of Johnny’s gaze, except really looking towards where he stood talking with you a few minutes ago. To his disappointment, but no great surprise, you were gone. “Thanks. I guess it is.”

In your room, you’re alone. After feeling Jaehyun’s touch, a warmth you were no longer accustomed to feeling, your contactless existence felt even more hollow. You’ll meet with him tomorrow, you decided, if not just to brush your hand against his once more. Also, because you have to talk about him. About visiting your body. And about Johnny.

Johnny... he’s back. He’s here. The notion terrified you and excited you at the same time. If your sister sees him…

You supposed you’re not the only ghost around these parts anymore.

After talking with you today and then having spent time with Johnny, one of the warmest presences in his life, Jaehyun lied in bed at the end of the night feeling far more relaxed than he had for quite a few days. That is, until he dug out the piece of paper your sister had given him. With his phone in one hand and the paper with her number scrawled on it in the other, he hesitated. The message was fully typed out, just a “Hey, this is Jaehyun from down the hall. Could you send me what hospital and room number Y/N is in?” but he couldn’t send it. He preoccupied himself with double-triple-quadruple checking that he typed her number in correctly, read his message over and over again for grammar and spelling mistakes, dwelled on other ways he could phrase it.

He thought about the look in your eyes on the rooftop. Though you had asked him to go, that lack of conviction on your face was what was making this message take fifteen minutes to send instead of just one. He usually thought of himself as an optimist, though now his mind was in a jumble, trying to figure what would really be the best thing to do. His thoughts spiralled in and out of doubt, wondering if you truly wanted him to do this, wondering if this will even work. Wondering, once again, if history was repeating itself.

Then, he remembered some wise words from his grandmother. ‘If you can try, you should. It may just be worth it.’ Though she probably hadn’t meant that saying for something like this, they were the last push he needed. He pressed send.

You watched from the hallway between your room and your sister’s as her phone lit up. Her hair was arranged in its usual nighttime style and she was just about to crawl under the covers of her bed when her eyes caught on the received text message. The small, pleasant smile that graced her worn face made you mirror her look. You could only hope that the news makes her sleep well tonight.

The text that Jaehyun was greeted with, about five minutes after he sent his own, was very straightforward. It contained the exact information he had asked for, including the address of the hospital, and ended with a ‘I don’t know how you know her, but thank you for caring.’

That night, his dreams were soundless, sightless, but filled with a kind of warmth that he couldn’t describe with words. It wasn’t at all a nightmare, but he still woke up with a heavy feeling in his chest.

This time around, Jaehyun didn’t avoid meeting you. If anything, he stretched the definition of ‘afternoon’ to be far earlier than most people think of it. He arrived on the roof at 11:30 in the morning and, at first, shuffled around the area, absentmindedly staring at different pots and gardening fixtures that he’d installed up here as he wished that time would move faster. After about fifteen minutes were spent unproductively, he decided that he might as well make use of his time. He spent another hour and a half heaving the bags of fertilizer that he brought up previously to where he needed them, packed it into the planters, and pulled weeds. The manual labor made him work up a sweat. Though he had gotten into the habit of bringing his own towel to wipe it away, a part of him still wished he had your handkerchief. His thoughts briefly wandered to you again - how you had handed him the item, what it means to you - and that seemed to be enough to summon you.

From the doorway to the stairs, you stood watching him for a moment. He wiped away sweat, shined in the sun, still glistened slightly despite the hat that he had started wearing, and crouched in front of a planter so that he could get a better look at the nothing that appeared to be growing in it. He didn’t notice you at first because your footsteps were soundless.

“That’s where you planted them, right? The Four O’clocks?” You saw his muscles tense in surprise, though that was the most reaction you got for sneaking up on him. Still, an apology left your mouth. “Sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t apologize, I just didn’t notice you until now.” His eyes shifted back to the planter in front of him. “And, yeah. They haven’t popped up yet for some reason, though. I’ll have to do more research.”

He stood, brushed his gloves against each other to get some of the extra dirt off, and removed them, stepping over towards where he had left some of his other stuff. As he walked, you trailed along next to him, watching the way a drop of sweat slid down from his hairline into his shirt. It had been a long time since you’d felt temperature - neither a cold breeze nor the sun’s warmth had touched your skin. You weren’t sure if you missed it or not. The only time you had really felt any heat were the times you touched-

The times you touched Jaehyun.

Something inside of you twinged with both pain and hope. If fate existed, he must be a sign of something good to come in your future, right? The key to all of this. Though just yesterday both of you realized that neither one of you had the answer to what was happening to you, you felt like all you could do was cling to even the smallest bit of feeling that he was returning to your life.

“I texted your sister.” He said, snapping you out of your thoughts. A small towel was in one of his hands, which he had clearly used to wipe away sweat while you were trapped in your thoughts. There was a small smile on his lips that you quickly mirrored.

“I know.” Slowly, you reached for his hands, taking one of them in your own, his palm gently held between yours. The warmth seemed to seep into your very being. You swore you could even feel the slight slick of sweat on his palms. “Jaehyun, thank you.”

He tilted his head and his smile became puzzled. “I haven’t even visited you yet.”

“Even just contacting my sister meant the world to her. And that means even more to me.” You tentatively released his hand, the feeling of aliveness quickly leaving your body. “When are you going to go?”

“I was thinking tomorrow.” The immediacy struck you. Tomorrow was so… soon. When you had forgotten your doubts for the last little while, they returned again.

“Tomorrow… tomorrow is good,” you forced yourself to say. The determination on his face told you more about him - once he’s set his mind on something, it’s hard to get him to diverge from that path. He was dead set on helping you.

Silence flowed between you for a moment, only the distant rushing of traffic from the small city below infiltrated the bubble of the rooftop. Jaehyun broke eye contact with you, his tongue flicking out as he nervously wetted his lips. “How do you know Johnny?”

You took a deep breath, like you would if you were trying to ease your nervousness when you were in your own body. “It’s not so much that I know him. It’s more my sister.” You stepped towards the railing at the edge of the building, looking out at the city and the blue sky above. It was far too early for a daytime moon, being a bit past noon. “They were a thing in high school. People really thought they would end up together forever, but college got in the way of that. Now, she’s with that… that piece of human trash that calls himself her boyfriend.” Though your tone had started off pleasant, wistful, remembering a softer past, it quickly turned bitter. Being stuck in the state you were in, you had spent more than enough time wandering aimlessly around your apartment, watching him do nothing all day, watching him waste time and resources. A part of you really believed that her current boyfriend was just a placeholder for the hole that Johnny left when he went away, but you didn’t tell Jaehyun that. It might be better just to leave your hypotheses to yourself for now.

Since you were staring out, speaking to the city air instead of facing Jaehyun, you couldn’t gauge his reaction. The more of your explanation he heard, the more surprise showed in his eyes. After you finished speaking, you took a moment, glared down at the city below, and then composed yourself and turned back around to look at him. He stepped forward, joining you against the railing. “That… explains a lot.” There was a strange smile on his face, like he was finally understanding something. “Johnny never really dated seriously in university. Always seemed kind of hung up on someone from the past. He never named her to me, in all the years I’ve known him.”

“You know him from college, then?”

He nodded. “Yeah. He’s my best friend. Small world, isn’t it?” You realized the particular irony of the statement to your situation, as you couldn’t leave this building, never mind the town, and let out a snort of laughter. “I guess that explains why he suggested we start the restaurant here.”

You stood in silence again, staring out at the rooftop garden instead of at the street below this time. Though some parts of the garden were still rough around the edges, it no longer looked like the roof was abandoned. The area teemed with new life, tiny splotches of green disrupting the brown of the soil and fertilizer as most everything that he’d planted had started growing by now. Everything except the Four O’clocks. “Jaehyun?” He looked towards you, humming in acknowledgment. “Even if visiting my body doesn’t help, I’m still glad that I met you.”

“If only it was under better circumstances,” he agrees. His eyes fell on the wall that led to where the mural was. “Hey, when you wake up, do you want to finish that mural? I think it would really tie this place together. I’ll even buy the paint for it.”

You looked in the same direction as him, the image of the unfinished painting clear in your head. Right now, you really had no desire to do anything with it, but you supposed that Jaehyun made a good point. “I guess. It would be nice to have a brush in my hand again.”

The sound of a car honking loudly from below shattered the tender moment, startling both of you. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he fished it out, glancing at the incoming message from Johnny.

‘Where do you want to go for lunch?’

“Shit.” He pushed off of the railing, standing up straight. “I forgot that I’m meeting up with Johnny and Mark in an hour.” He started to gather his stuff from the top of the crate where he had left it before glancing over and catching your eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow? You won’t run away again?”

You shook your head. “See you tomorrow, Jaehyun.”

When he walked to the roof exit, he turned around to look at you again. You were seated on the old crate that he first saw you on, in those same dark denim overall shorts with the paint splashes and white tee. Like you could sense him staring at you, you turned slightly. As you did so, your image seemed to waver slightly, as if the sunlight was moving through your opaque being; a strange mirage in the afternoon air. He blinked and you appeared normal again, so he raised a hand in a final farewell for the day. After you returned the gesture, he disappeared into the stairwell.

For the rest of the day, he intermittently thought of you. Johnny and Mark largely kept him distracted, helping him plan some of the items he’ll have on the menu of his restaurant, what the interior could look like, what to name it. As they drove around after lunch, the conversation shifted.

“Dude,” Mark said, “I heard that Ten is also in town right now. You should visit him.”

“I haven’t seen him in years.” Johnny said, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “It would be nice to catch up.”

Jaehyun chimed in at that. “Ten from high school?”

“Yeah. I’m kind of surprised that you remember me talking about him.”

“Do you still talk to anyone else from back then?” There was a slight insistence to Jaehyun’s voice that perplexed Johnny. Jaehyun knew he probably shouldn’t have been pushing this hard, especially since his best friend never opened up to him about it before, but he couldn’t help it. “There’s this girl who lives on my floor who seems about your age.”

“Are you trying to get me to hook you up with someone? It’s about time.”

“No,” Jaehyun said firmly, his eyebrows furrowed. “And you know I wouldn’t have a problem with that if I wanted to talk to a girl.”

“Tell that to your ex. If I hadn’t pushed you to talk to her-”

“I don’t want to talk about her.” There was a snap to Jaehyun’s tone that he usually didn’t use and it cut off the conversation quickly. Mark shifted uncomfortably in his seat, checking his phone. Jaehyun almost decided to drop the topic entirely, but he felt like he owed it to you to ask. “The girl from my floor is named S/N L/N.”

The tapping of his fingers against the wheel stopped. Slowly, Johnny’s grip tightened. Normally, Johnny was in complete control of his emotions. Now, he didn’t seem angry, but it clearly evoked something in him when Jaehyun said your sister’s name. “Yeah. I know her.”

Mark nudged Jaehyun, raising his eyebrows in an attempt to communicate with him nonverbally. Jaehyun ignored the signal. “Were you close?”

Johnny shrugged, forcing himself to relax slightly as he drove. “You could say that.”

No one spoke for a while, until a familiar, nostalgic song played on the radio, reigniting the conversation. Jaehyun planned on leaving the conversation at that, inviting the two over for dinner. As afternoon turned to evening, they returned to his apartment complex. When he stepped out of the car, he couldn't resist looking up. The roof seemed like such a long way from here. He shook his head slightly to clear it and led his friends to his apartment. The elevator ride was short and empty of anyone but them, with Mark gushing about eating his food again. When the doors opened to his floor, he got out and nearly walked right past her. Johnny didn’t, though.

As soon as he exited the elevator, his friend saw her. Jaehyun stopped walking when he saw that Johnny wasn't with him and Mark. Johnny was having some sort of staredown with your sister. She had the same bag on her shoulder that she did the last time Jaehyun saw her, though the sunglasses were missing this time, leaving her expressions largely unguarded.

She seemed to swallow heavily, taken aback by this ghost from the past. “John.”

“S/N.” All Jaehyun and Mark could do was watch. They stared at each other for a moment longer before Johnny once again forced himself to relax a bit and offered her a small smile. “Jaehyun was telling me about how you live on the same floor.” “What are you doing back here?” She said, cutting right to the chase. She seemed far more outwardly unhappy to see him than he did to see her.

“Visiting. Probably going to move back soon, though.” He was watching, carefully assessing her reaction. He stood tall, his hands in his pockets, casual. She appeared much more stiff, weighed down more by life than he had been in the years since they’d seen each other.

“I thought you wanted to get out of this town?” There was a certain bitterness to her voice that was very personal. Almost resentful.

“You still remember that?”

“How could I forget?”

Jaehyun and Mark glanced at each other, wondering if they should do something. At those words, though, Johnny’s smile brightened slightly. “I’m glad I’m unforgettable.”

“This isn’t about you anymore.” Johnny’s face fell slightly at that, eliminating the slight cheer that he had just gained. “I have to go.” As she reached the elevator, she turned back to them, looking Jaehyun in the eyes. Her eyes were piercing, though they didn’t seem to hold any malice, only confusion. “You’re really strange, Jaehyun.”

It crossed Jaehyun’s mind that he might have started something far beyond his depth or control. After the elevator doors closed with her behind them, Johnny turned back towards him and Mark. “Dinner?”

As he cooked, Jaehyun watched the sun set outside the window adjacent to the kitchen section of the apartment. From here, he couldn’t see if the moon was out yet, but he thought about it and he thought about you. He wondered if you were thinking about him, too.

The way you thought about Jaehyun was with the sort of desperation someone who was hanging onto the edge of a cliff thought about a rope. Right now, he was your lifeline for more reasons than one. In your dark room, the emptiness felt suffocating. You lied sideways on your bed, staring at the ceiling, untaken by the sleep you no longer require. Back when you were alive, you might have taken the time to paint him, capture the way he had made you feel in the short time you’ve known him and the few conversations you’ve had with him. Then, you would have opened your sketchbook and flipped through the drawings from better days, ignored the darker sketches of more recent times.

You wondered if your sister had flipped through those drawings since it happened, seen the last picture you created. It was a self-portrait of sorts, though your eyes were filled with black and your limbs were strung up like a marionette. Out of control in your own life, close to being soulless. You didn’t know nor remember what had possessed you to draw it and you wished you had finished with something brighter. It didn’t matter anyways - the book was stuck on your shelf with some of your other things, out of reach of your touchless world. What did matter was what’s going to happen tomorrow.

The more you thought about it, the more the doubts bounced around in the transparent space of wherever you would call your mind now, the more Jaehyun visiting your body in the hospital seemed like a terrible idea. It has been a long time that you’ve been like this and it’ll probably be an even longer time if you somehow wake up. You weren’t sure you were ready to be exhausted like that again.

You thought about your sister and her hunched figure over the dimly lit coffee table at night, the bills piling up, each dollar that leaves her bank account only adding a single grain of sand to the hourglass of the life she’s built here. She never really talked finances with you, but you knew it was never easy. You covered rent, but she tried to keep all of her other bills away from you. You dreaded more than wondered what would happen should that hourglass finally become empty. How much time does this life have left?

It only took you a moment to leave your room and reach her. She was exactly where you pictured her, though she wasn’t staring at the bills, trying to crunch numbers anymore. Her gaze was on her lump of a boyfriend asleep on the couch. “S/N,” you couldn’t help but whisper, “just leave him. Go to bed.”

For a heartbeat, it almost seemed like she heard you, or was at least about to pay herself a courtesy, as she rose from her place at the table and walked the short distance to the hallway adjoining the living area to the bedrooms. Then, she stopped, stared at the ground, and turned slightly, laying a hand on his shoulder. He began to stir as she spoke. “Honey…” the word rang bitter in your ears, “come to bed.”

The look he gave her through bleary eyes showed a type of spiritual rotting that had its roots deep in his core. “Bitch, I was asleep. Can’t you leave me in peace for one night?”

“You’ll sleep better in bed than on the couch…” The meekness with which she spoke had you curling your hands into tight fists, your nails digging into your palms. Both she and you knew that no matter what she did, she would always be wrong in his eyes. Always. If she hadn’t woken him, he would’ve gotten angry in the morning instead, bemoaning how she hadn’t woken him and gotten him to sleep on the bed instead. You’d seen that exact argument happen before. You couldn’t say how many times you’d seen this exact scene, too.

He grunted, slowly getting up. “Is that so?” He tilted his head, cracking his neck in something of a stretch. “You think you know better than me?”

“No,” she flinched as he raised a hand, “I’m sorry.”

The grin that filled his face wasn’t bright. It was crooked, sick, and it made you want to vomit when you knew you weren’t even capable of doing so. Back when they first started dating, he was much better at hiding the pleasure he takes in “besting” her, but now he didn’t even try. As he walked past her, he bumped her shoulder with his arm, making her draw herself in, attempting to minimize the space she took up. After he was gone, more safely away from her in their bedroom, she sank down onto the couch, wrapping her arms around her torso. She stared at the scattered bottles and trash on the small side table next to the soft. It took about a minute before she leaned forward, resting her face in her hands, slow tears falling down her cheeks. You couldn’t bear to look at her like this. Back when you were in your own body, you never knew she cried like this. When you couldn’t stand to watch the fighting without doing anything anymore, you would just lock yourself in your room and pray no one got hurt. Every bit of it, you regretted. You should’ve stood up to him more, stood by your sister, shared her pain. Regret was a bitter taste.

“Y/N,” you heard from her, a quiet plea into the night, “I’m sorry. Please come back.”

You’d heard her cry out for you before, but this time it hurt even more than usual. Your hands were still curled in fists and, after the feelings of regret and helplessness and pure rage boiled over, you lashed out, like you could hit one of the bottles on the table. The silence shattered as your hand made contact with the object, sending it clattering onto the wood surface of the side table, then rolling onto the floor. Your sister’s head snapped up, her eyes following the bottle. The last round of tears fell as she blinked rapidly and scrubbed at her eyes, trying to figure out what caused the bottle to move. She finally got up uneasily, now just dabbing gently at her eyes, before she picked up the bottle to dispose of it.

As she started to warily clean up the rest of the trash, you stared at your hands. There was no way…

It was late by the time your sister joined her boyfriend in bed and it was only slightly later when Jaehyun settled down to sleep. Johnny hadn’t spoken about Stella for the rest of the night and Jaehyun hadn’t asked. He agreed to meet him in two days to check out locations for the restaurant, and that was that. In some ways, he was grateful. The more he involved himself in this situation, the more he felt like everything was spiraling out of control. But, in the opposite way, he wished something more had changed. He just hoped that visiting your body will lead him to something better.

It took a little while, but he eventually fell asleep.

He didn’t remember arriving in the hospital, just opening the door to your room. Your hair was longer than it was when he saw you on the roof and you appeared almost skeletal, your cheekbones hollow and eye sockets sunken in deeper than they should be. Hadn’t the doctors been taking care of you?

When he leaned over, taking your hand, your eyes immediately flickered open, as if you’d been waiting for him. He blinked and you transformed, your skin glowing with life and hair full and luscious. “Jaehyun, you saved me.”

Your voice came out as a warble, confusing and bird-like. Not at all how you sounded when he talked to you before. He tried to speak, but you cut him off. “Y/N-” “You saved me, you saved me.” You repeated, the mantra becoming a sort of chant as you stared at him, unblinking. The fingers on the hand that he was still grasping began to turn into talons, sharp and digging into his skin. “You saved me, you saved me, you saved me.”

He awakened in a cold sweat and bolted into an upright sitting position. The city birds that hung out outside his window were chirping, faintly reminding him of the way your dream-self had sounded. He shivered and pressed his face into his hands. Why did he keep having nightmares about you?

The sunlight streaming through the window was a small comfort, reminding him that things were fine. He considered going back to sleep, but figured that if his body wanted him to get up, he might as well. From what he saw on the hospital website, visiting hours didn’t start for a little while, so he had time to get ready and do some work on the garden before he left. The physical labor took his mind off of things for a while, but the car ride to the hospital certainly didn’t. His car felt far too empty and quiet even with one of his favorite playlists on. He considered himself lucky that the drive was short, though most of the medical traffic for the more rural nearby towns flowed to this hospital because it’s the nearest city, small as it is. The parking garage felt miserable, drab and lifeless, and the inside of the hospital itself felt no different. Stark white, sterile except the dirt streaks on the tiles from visitors’ feet, walls largely undecorated save for large signs warning about various diseases.

The lady at the front desk didn’t ask too many questions when he signed in and said your name. She simply gave him a visitor pass and let him through, scrawling down his name in a sign-in book. Your room was on the fourth floor, so he made his way to the elevator, passing by a few people who appeared far more tired than he did. They’d clearly spent a lot of time here. Some had red eyes from crying, some were simply hunched over, staring at nothing. The elevator was empty and stayed that way for the entirety of his short ride. On the fourth floor, there were fewer people, these strangers milling and sitting about. One guy, maybe around his age, was seated on a bench, staring at an apple that Jaehyun assumed he had placed down next to him. He glanced at the strange boy but kept walking, eventually standing in front of the door that he had been directed to by both the check-in lady and your sister.

The doorknob turned easily, though the door creaked as he pushed it, showing signs of age that the hospital had tried to simply paint over. He let himself in and closed the door behind him, finally turning around and allowing himself to look at your body.

Thankfully, you weren’t as skeletal as he feared you would be. He almost laughed at how different the room arrangement was from his dream as well, the relief making him relax slightly. Your body looked to be in quite good shape despite the amount of time that you’d been in a coma. Patches of your hair were clearly shorter than the rest, where he assumed you had to have some sort of surgery, though signs of said operation were no longer quite visible. IVs were stuck in your skin, providing you with the fluids that you needed to stay alive. Whatever this version of alive was. Your skin didn’t have quite the same sheen to it that it did when he talked to you, but you looked largely the same, like you were asleep. It was almost strange for him to see you in different clothes than your usual paint-stained overalls and white tee, the blue and white hospital gown seeming unnatural. He had only ever seen you in the warm outside lighting of the rooftop, so seeing you under this white fluorescent lighting was almost a strain to his eyes. The thought crossed his mind that you looked far better surrounded by green and brown and blue than you did by all of this white.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said quietly, walking closer to your body. There was an empty vase at your bedside, so he opened his bag, revealing the flowers that he had purchased on the way here. It was a pretty standard arrangement of pink roses and baby’s breath, but it brightened the room immensely. “It’s kind of strange to see you here. I hope these help. I would have brought you flowers from the roof, but they aren’t ready yet. Sorry.”

He didn’t know what he was looking for as he talked. Maybe a flicker of your eyelids, a twitch of your fingers. The air conditioning kicked on suddenly and the blast of chilly air made a few locks of your hair shift ever so slightly, almost tricking him into thinking that you moved on your own. After waiting for a moment, he finally reached for your hand. Your skin was colder here than it was when he touched you before. Your hand slotted into his nicely, but it was limp, unresponsive. A few minutes of nothing passed, time he spent just looking at you and repeating ‘please wake up’ in his head, before he quietly tucked your hand back under the covers of your bed.

“I hope you wake up soon,” he said, “so we can properly meet.”

As he exited the room, he kept his head down, mindlessly walking back to where he remembered the elevator being. The hallway was straight and long and, with his lack of attention, he ended up slamming into someone’s shoulder relatively hard. Both he and the other person staggered slightly, stopping in their tracks.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking,” he said quickly, glancing sideways at the boy he had run into. He was the same guy he had seen sitting on the bench before, staring at the apple next to him. The look on his face was an extreme reaction, pure shock covering his features. Jaehyun cringed to himself. “Hey, I really didn’t mean-”

“You can see me. You can touch me.” The guy interrupted him, raising a hand to point at him. “It’s been so long since anyone’s been able to do that!” Oh shit.

“Look,” Jaehyun said quickly, panic immediately filling him, “I’m not trying to become some sort of ghost-whisperer. I’m already trying to help someone and I can’t handle more and more of you.”

“No, listen-” As Jaehyun tried to turn around, pretend like this never happened, the boy grabbed his arm, his fingers sharp as they dug into his skin slightly. “I saw you go into that girl’s room. From the sounds of it, you didn’t get what you wanted. I can help you.”

Jaehyun narrowed his eyes at that. “If you can help me, why are you still like this?”

“I can help you. And her.” Jaehyun’s eyes shifted towards the door that he had just left behind, then back to the boy gripping his arm. “But I need your help first.”

#btdm #beneath the daytime moon #jaehyun fic #nct fluff #nct angst #jaehyun scenarios #nct jaehyun scenarios #nct scenarios #btdm collab

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