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toomuchracket · 11 months

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my whole life, waiting for you: part 1 (ross x girlband gf!reader angst/fluff)

i don't know. i just wanted to write something. it's more pining/missing someone than actual angst, and there's more to come, at some point. loosely inspired by the seminal song super trouper by abba lol. i hope you like it <3

it's sunny in glasgow today. which is weird, especially for february.

but it's beautiful, ross thinks. it's a shame that a city so made up of sandstone doesn't get to see the sun so often; the buildings seem to glow when the daylight hits them, reflecting off the glass fronts of their newer neighbours, the intricate details in the stonework clearer than he's ever seen them before.

the people on the street below seem to glow in the sunshine, too, which is saying something given that ross's hotel room looks out onto hope street, to the flood of people heading to and from glasgow central station. at half 8 on a thursday morning, you'd expect a certain level of crabbiness (or crabbitness, in scotland) from them, as they make their way to another day of work and school and uni, but everyone's a bit more cheery today. scarves have been unravelled, jackets unzipped… there's even one guy walking about in a t-shirt and shorts as if it's mid-july.

ross smiles at the sight, but it doesn't last long.

you should be here seeing it all with him.

but you're still in london, hundreds of miles away, and he won't see you until he's back there himself. it's only four days away, but it's been ten since the last time you were together, and ross has decided that a fortnight apart is simply too long. especially after the months spent continents apart at the end of last year.

still, it's not like either of you can do anything about it. he's on tour. you're in the final days of production on your band's new album. there's no resentment, at least, because you've both been in the other's shoes, but there's pining, and a loneliness that no amount of calls and texts and facetimes can fully shift.

a knock on the door briefly interrupts it, though, and a familiar deep voice follows. "ross, mate, s'me."

george. ross opens the door, and is immediately pulled into a hug - a proper one, not a hyper-masculine bro hug - before his friend steps into the room and surveys the view. "nice day."

"yeah," ross nods, moving to stand next to george. "sun's nice."

the two men stand in silence for a minute, side by side, looking out at the city below. george turns to look at ross, chewing the inside of his bottom lip. "you alright today, mate?"

ross nods. "just… well, you know how it is. missing my girl."

"yeah, exactly," george nods too, then smiles. "m'happy for you, though. a bit pissed off that you didn't tell me until last night, but mostly happy."

"wasn't even planning on telling you, mate," ross huffs out a laugh. "the night just got the better of me."

the night, beginning with a two-hour long facetime with you after dinner that only exacerbated your respective lonelinesses. ross loves his job, absolutely fucking adores it, but as the days pass he's less and less reluctant to admit that the nomadic nature of touring is beginning to wear a bit thin for him. when you answered that call, tucked up in bed wearing what was unmistakably ross's slowdive t-shirt, brew in hand and glasses on… he did find himself wishing that the next show was the final one, so he could go home to you. and yet, despite that, talking to you did perk ross up a little bit, enough to make him agree to go for some drinks with the band and the techs and try to have a nice evening.

but the loneliness soon won out again, and the alcohol took over; forty-five minutes after everyone got to what ended up being the final pub of the night, ross was outside chaining cigs and thinking about your call again. george came out for his own smoke, found his friend near tears, and that's when ross spilled the whole story to him, the whole truth about you and him and your relationship. after eighteen months, your secret was finally released, in the middle of mitchell lane, under the neon lights and the moon and a cloud of marlboro smoke, at one o'clock in the morning.

"yeah, well, i'm glad you said," george grins. "she's great. i love her."

"so do i," ross sighs. "and i really, really miss her."

his friend nods. "only four days, though, for both of us. we'll manage. trust me, ross, it'll fly in. and it'll be good. two nights of glasgow shows, yeah?"

"if we were anywhere else, i'd be so much worse."

"i believe it. now," george picks up ross's jacket from the back of a chair and holds it out to him. "shall we take advantage of the nice day and go for a coffee with the boys?"

ross shrugs. "might as well."

***

"george says it's sunny today."

you slowly crack your eyelids open and look at charli blearily. "in glasgow?"

"i know! i didn't believe it either, until he sent me a pic. here," charli, admirably and enviably well-rested and energetic, thrusts her phone towards you.

"oh, yeah. pretty," you squint closer at the screen, noting the infamous 'people make glasgow' sign framed against a backdrop of clear blue sky. squinting further, you make out adam mid-stride towards the city chambers, turning back to look at an animated (probably making a shit joke about george and george square) matty and a smiling ross. a pang of longing hits you square in the chest as you look at your boyfriend and the crinkles by his eyes, drawing a lovesick sigh from your lips.

charli smiles softly at you, putting her phone down on the pull-down table and pulling you into a hug. "three hours to go, babe."

"i know. god, i must sound so stupid, sighing like a fucking war wife or some shit."

"not at all, it's cute," your friend says. "and i always thought you and ross would be cute. didn't i tell you that?"

"i don't think you ever said 'cute', per se, but you did say if we started an onlyfans together then you'd subscribe. so, kinda the same thing, i suppose."

"and i stand by that statement," charli giggles. her face softens. "were you and him, like, together, when i said that?"

"uh huh. had been for a year."

"jesus christ," she shakes her head. "i can't even be annoyed at you for keeping it a secret, because i'm just so fucking impressed you managed to do it for so long."

you shuffle in your seat to look out the window, the view a blurry patch of trees somewhere between london euston and glasgow central. "yeah, in hindsight, we probably shouldn't have hidden it for so long. i'm worried people are going to be upset that we did, when we tell them."

"by people… d'you mean matty?"

you nod, pressing your lips together in nervousness. it's definitely worse for ross, given their long friendship, but matty and george have become almost like older brothers to you through their support of you and your band, and so the fear of the former being hurt by the upcoming revelation is very real to you too.

"oh, he'll be too excited to be sad," charli grins, then giggles maniacally. "and too busy trying to convince you and ross to have musical-prodigy kids."

you think you wouldn't be opposed to that idea, but it still seems too soon to say it out loud.

"i hope you're right, charli," you say instead, although you can't keep the tiny smile from your face at the sweetly domestic thought. "you really think he won't be angry? or adam? christ, imagine upsetting adam! i'd never forgive myself."

"well, put it this way," charli moves so she can look you in the eye, taking your hands in her own. "i was woken up at 2am by george telling me you and ross were secretly together, and that i just had to drop everything today to get the train to glasgow with you so you could surprise him, and my overwhelming emotion was not anger, but excitement. so yeah, i think the boys'll be fine."

you squeeze her hands gratefully. "you took the 2am phone call better than i did," you snort. "i could've throttled your boyfriend for waking me up, babe. especially after the week i've had."

charli laughs. "just think, though - in a few hours, you'll have ross to kiss it better."

and what a nice thought that is. you're aware of your body sinking further into the plush train seat, but every other sense zones out the present completely in favour of remembering past kisses with your boyfriend; it isn't until charli actually pinches your bare forearm that you snap out of your romantic little daydream about ross's lips and tongue and hands.

she laughs when you frown at her, wriggling in her seat into what you've come to learn is her gossip pose. "your face just lit up there - i take it ross isn't lacking in kissing ability?"

you smirk. "not in the slightest."

"i love that for you. and what about ability," charli's volume drops as her brows lift. "... elsewhere?"

the smirk grows, and you gleefully swing your legs as much as you can without instigating an argument with the person sitting in front of you. "no comment."

"oh, you bitch," your friend lightly slaps your arm. "at least tell me if you're satisfied or not, please!"

your mind thinks back to the last night you saw your boyfriend, and to the beard burn still lingering on your inner thighs. "'satisfied' is an understatement."

"obsessed with that. obsessed with the two of you! tonight's going to go well. i can feel it."

deep down, you know charli's right. it's your friends you're telling about you and ross tonight. they love you. they want you to be happy.

you want that too. you want to be able to be the properly proud adoring girlfriend at the side of the stage tonight, cheering on ross and shouting "i love you"s and doing your utmost to get him to do that crinkly-eyed smile that makes your heart glow. all you have to do is be honest with your friends.

ross's eyes cross your mind again, for the millionth time today. yeah, tonight will go well - you'll make sure of it. for him.

#mads muses #mads does writing #girlband gf #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald x reader #ross x reader #ross macdonald angst

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nomatterwhatnomatterwhere · 11 months

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What a ( Not so) Strange World - VIII

AN: I'm so sorry it took me so long to update.

I'm working on some things and to tell the truth the chapter was practically ready for weeks, even if I wasn't convinced by the final part.

Sorry again

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You didn't know what made you think that, but you were convinced that once Heartslabyul sent one of his people to retrieve his lost child, everything would go decently.

You would accompany Yuu and Grim - who were a package from what you understood - to class, so as to minimize the problems that Grim might get into and which he would drag the Prefect into as a result, and then you would go and look for Crowley , since you didn't know what you were supposed to do with your time at this school.

(Of course it was a school, and during your tour the crow lover had named some classes you would take, but he hadn't bothered to give you a timetable for the lessons and as gifted as you might be with magic, you didn't have the gift of clairvoyance or mind reading. The questions of how someone like that could be put in charge of a school were still present in your mind)

But as you should have expected, your plans would not be respected, since you were all heading together and passionately – except Ace, who was not happy at all – towards Heartslabyul.

When Least Problem Child – even his nickname was due to what you understood about him from Yuu's story – showed up to see how Ace was doing you were surprised to see how Deuce – “D-Deuce S-Spade !” – really seemed like an unproblematic child.

He had been direct in telling Ace what an idiot he had been, and had been much less tragic while talking about the Housewarden than Ace had been.

(You had to suppress a laugh at their situation)

It was fun to watch them interact with each other.

(Though maybe, from Deuce's story, you could understand why Ace was being so dramatic, since their Housewarden seemed to be exaggerating a little, if he put the same collar as Ace on someone who had overslept.)

You offered the newcomer to have breakfast with you and saw him stammer "No thanks" for a good whole minute, avoiding your gaze with the tips of his red ears.

It was cute.

( Deuce remembered seeing you during the chandelier fiasco, he had tried to apologize on Ace's behalf when he came at you, and he knew a model student would apologize , but you didn't see him. Now you were here, all smiles offering him breakfast with you, a breakfast you probably made yourself. You were the prettiest girl Deuce had seen in his young life. Avoiding acting like a delinquent was definitely paying off.)

You headed to Main Street and Grim had been absolutely unbearable the entire way.

The teasing towards Ace had been funny at first, but after a while it had tired you, both because the weasel's voice was making your ears bleed in pain, and because he was attracting so much, too much, attention from the students who you met

(The students' gazes weren't too focused on Grim though – their ears definitely were – their eyes were focused on you and the animals following your group. 'Cute' animals rarely strolled around the NRC, unless Silver wasn't asleep nearby, and so it was decidedly bizarre to see them following someone)

You were convinced that as soon as Ace got his magic back, Grim would have a tough time; you hoped to get Yuu away as quickly as possible, with that temper he had you knew the little monster would cause problems.

You didn't really want to go to Heartslabyul, you had more important things to do - like find Crowley and figure out where the library was - but leaving Yuu with the Problem Child™ wasn't an option, last time they ended up fighting a monster to find a Mana Stone in the dwarven mines, who knows what they might have gotten up to while they were together.

You didn't want to know.

The Queenie-inspired Dormitory wasn't bad at all: it was regal but inspired a certain order and discipline, but it lost a little of its solemnity when you saw the rose bushes losing spots of color.

You knew that Queenie had a tradition involving painting roses, but you hadn't yet seen the tradition in action. It was definitely something interesting.

Certainly Yuu's poor attempt to not make Ramshackle appear as something totally destroyed and unlivable hadn't helped much.

Ramshakle was a “work in progress” for housing decency. Once that was achieved we could talk about something else.

To get to the dorm entrance you had to pass through a Rose Maze, and the path was littered with cans of red paint, although you were much more focused on the tiny red footprints that started from one of the paint splotches on the ground.

You had missed the moment when Grim realized that someone other than you was in the maze: little pink hedgehogs were pushing at your heels – they were trying and you were letting them – while they whispered anxiously that they needed help.

You didn't want to leave the group, but you really pitied those little hedgehogs - they spoke in a fast and almost scared way - and your willpower to keep Yuu out of trouble was slightly weakened; they were in a Maze, the worst that could happen was that they could get lost, right?

The little guys led you not too far from where you were, to a little cage that had another hedgehog stuck in it, who looked like he was about to cry, if the little whimpers he let out were anything to go by.

After freeing the little one, the other hedgehogs decided to remain hanging on your body: you had one on each shoulder, the one just freed had decided to stay in your arms to be petted, the last one had decided to take a walk from grass up to your legs - where it was definitely comfortable - but since you had to go back to the others, you picked him up too.

“Why are you painting the roses red?”

When you returned to the others you were greeted by a decidedly interesting panorama: Deuce was fighting with a rose that was supposed to be red but tended more towards blue; Grimm was no better off, as you could see some singed roses; in the end the ones in the best position were Ace and Yuu who were literally painting the roses red.

“Why are you not painting the roses red?” Ace sounded totally betrayed – dramatic, downright dramatic.

You raised your arms to show the small animals – as if they weren't already visible with those bright colors they had – asking where you could leave them.

Nobody had time to answer you, because someone was faster: you felt yourself being hugged from behind, with the newcomer's arms settling just under yours, catching a glimpse of a very familiar lock of hair.

“Hi! Hi! There you are! I was soo worried 'bout you” he placed a hand on your back and started pushing you in another direction, without any of the others having time to say anything.

(As Cater dragged you away, Yuu could see how you didn't seem the least bit surprised or worried by the older boy's attitude, as if you were used to it. Ace was still shocked, he had to paint the roses and you were escorted in a very kind way, given the character of Cater, who knows where. Deuce was still realizing the situation; he was so entranced by your cute figure holding those little hedgehogs that he almost missed the moment Cater dragged you away)

You were arranging the hedgehogs in a basket that seemed much more well-stocked, and above all comfortable, than the trap in which one of them had gotten stuck, when Cater had leaned on your left shoulder and actually greeted you.

(actually, he had tried as soon as he saw you, but the hedgehog on your shoulder gave him a very dirty look and was a good deterrent, he didn't want quills on his pretty face the first time you saw you again together, although maybe that would have made you want to take care of him? Hmm, he would have thought about it.)

“Hi,” he said, lowering his voice slightly and looking you straight in the eyes, and God how much you missed his eyes, even though, at that moment, they seemed a little darker than you remembered.

"Hello to you too"

You stared at each other for a few seconds before the hedgehog on your other shoulder nuzzled his nose into your neck, waking you up from that sort of trance.

"Oh right!" Cater's eyes widen slightly at your tone. "The hedgehogs would appreciate a strengthening spell when you use them as balls and maybe if you avoided all those traps in the maze they would be a little calmer and maybe avoid escaping."

"Did they tell you?" Cater was still hugging you with his chin on your shoulder. "I'll talk to the Housewarden about it, but I can't guarantee anything."

Once the sidequest was finished you returned to the others, with a decidedly sulky Cater

(He had just seen you again in person and didn't have the slightest desire to share his time with you with the other firsties, but he had work to do and it was best to avoid Riddle's tantrums. Ugh!)

“I hate to say it, Ace, but I need you to leave before Riddle sees you.”

Sure, Rule 53 made total sense, but having to kick Ace out before the warden saw him also seemed over the top, even by Queenie's rules.

As you watched Cater fight Deuce and Grim you realized that unless "Riddle" was a rather common name, the Housewarden of Heratslabyul and Che'nya and Trey's friend must have been the same person.

You didn't understand how a personality like Che'nya could coexist with a "tyrant" like this Riddle, it couldn't be all thanks to Trey, despite all the wonderful abilities the boy possessed.

During the fight you had cast a small protection spell on Yuu, it didn't make sense for them to get hurt… now that you thought about it, if they had had a protection spell on them maybe they would have managed to avoid the physical attack repercussions that 'being friends with the Problem Child™ would have meant… yeah, you could try that.

“Shouldn't you send me away now too?”

You received a dirty look and a childish “Gno” in response as CayCay – that was the nickname used when Cater acted like a child – went back to hugging you like a Teddy Bear

“I need to find Crowley”

“Gno”

“I need to go”

“Gnoo”

Awsome, you have been kidnapped by Cater

“You need to paint those roses red”

At this he let you go, very reluctantly, making you promise to spend lunch with him, which you gladly accepted.

Back in the Hall of Mirror two things hit you hard Where the hell could you find Crowley and above all hope that the Problem Child™ and Yuu didn't get into trouble during your absence.

You should have stocked up on headache potions, maybe Crewel would have provided you with a supply if you asked.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst x reader #disney #reader insert #twisted wonderland x reader #divus crewel #cater x reader #cater diamond #twst deuce #deuce spade #deuce x reader #twst ace #ace x reader #ace trappola #twst grim #twst yuu

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jerryterry · 1 year

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Hi Jerrod! I'm a college student taking a music appreciation class, and I have to use the musician I talked about on Day 1 for a project, and that so happened to be you, haha. Is there anyone who has inspired you musically for some of your horror work like Kiss Me/Kill me (which happens to be the song I chose cause honestly? A bop). Thank you so much in advance!

Hmm. Honestly, in cases like that one, I don't really have any conscious inspirations aside from the obvious song itself (as I've mentioned in the past, Kiss Me was mainly inspired by hearing the song on the radio and really listening to the lyrics for the first time and thinking "woah what if she keeps asking to be kissed next to increasingly-creepy things" lol). Started with the lyrics, then once I got the vocals back from Juliëtte I just started with "basic cover of the original song, then just see where I can take it".

The previous work "The Boys are Back (to kill you)" was a much more subdued 'remix', in that many elements were a 1:1 recreation (the backing guitar and bass are remade but mostly adhere to the original) or direct sample (that lead guitar riff) that I built up on in a more subtle way - different drums, lil blips and bloops here and there, but more of a cover than a remix in vibes. Kiss Me starts in a similar way, there's some added synths but it's mostly a close following of the original track with minor embellishments. But as part of the bait-and-switch (in that the listener was intended to assume it's the same situation as the previous one, both in terms of the remix style and the vocals being a sentence-mix), the plan was to just keep winging it in a new direction and see what happens.

Like most of my stuff, the rest kinda formed in this real hazy-to-remember bout of extreme productivity and luck. It's kinda like one of those cartoon fights where you just see a dustcloud and the occasional fist - like I'll zone out (or I guess in) into this very intensely-focused session for hours, and emerge having made a ton of progress thinking "I honestly don't remember how I got here". Sadly can't do it on command (hence my usual low output), but in this case I left everything so last-minute that the stress of the Halloween deadline was really propelling me forward, haha.

Come to think of it, is any of this useful at all? Was the project specifically just about inspirations? If so, kinda sucks that I guess I just went "huh, not really", sorry about that. Obvs not trying to claim my work is immaculate and wholly original and incomparable or whatever (it sure ain't), just that any inspirations for this one were more just my own ingrained inspirations and less conscious ones that I could pinpoint and list, yknow?

A lot of people think Boys are Back was inspired by Neil Cicierega. Which I totally get (on multiple levels, both the sentence-mixed mashup PLUS the "creepy old 90's-style computer UI" stuff are SO his bag), but tbh his work wasn't a direct inspiration in this case, it was mostly another accident. Maybe kind of a "man invents Frankenstein 200 years after Mary Shelley" vibe for sure. Though funnily enough it does take a lil conscious inspiration from one of Neil's works in a less-expected way, in that a distant memory of his track "Super Hey Ya" popped into mind while I was partway through the remix and inspired the lil bouncy chip-arps you hear from 0:50 onward. SHY came to mind on account of being what I guess I'd call an "additive remix", in which he took the whole song and put his own additions on top of it, which was only partially the case for TBaB but it was a bit of a similar process (I specifically remember thinking like "ok so I've got this pretty direct cover of the backing track, I don't want to go full capital-R Remix here but let's add some lil embellishments... oh hey, remember Super Hey Ya?").

Is any of this helpful? Sorry I couldn't really answer the question in a very satisfying way.

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babyarmybabbles · 4 months

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Run ARMY! (Arrival Part) a2 d2

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Reader won the opportunity to film a spin off of Run BTS! celebrating the boys return from enlistment, called Run ARMY!, over the course of seven days.

Word Count: 1,836

Notes: This fic fights me so much, it's so difficult to write, but I love the idea so much, so I'm stubbornly refusing to quit lmao. I'll figure it out eventually. For now, enjoy this fragment. Could probably use some formatting and clarity edits.

Took Inspirations from Run ARMY! series on Tik Tok by _yamanika_ and Guess The Bias! by HelloMyAlien7 on Ao3

Warnings: Reader is a bit of an anxious mess

Masterlist Link <3 | Prev Part Link c: | Next Part Link :D

It wasn’t until your plane was landing on South Korean soil that the reality of your situation really started to sink in. Namely, that your situation was reality at all. Really, who could blame you? With the 15 hour flight behind you there were less than 24 hours between you and meeting BTS.

Less than 24 hours between you and filming with BTS.

It still felt like a dream as you disembarked from the plane and started heading to customs. Quite frankly you were still in shock about the whole thing. It felt like everything was progressing way too quickly, even though it had already been nearly two months since your name had initially been drawn from the Weverse raffle.

Honestly, even entering the raffle had been no more than a matter of rote to you. A notification from Weverse had announced a new special season of Run BTS! to celebrate the group's return from enlistment. The twist that made it special? They were going to pick one lucky Korean-speaking ARMY to film the series with BTS. Of course you'd entered the raffle. Hell, you're sure ARMY that didn't even meet the Korean speaking requirement had entered it.

It's just that you had never expected to win. You'd never even entertained the possibility. It had been just another of those things you did because you'd be wasting your fanclub membership otherwise. And also because you'd be insane not to. You'd giggled and done the whole "but what if?" routine with your ARMY friends, of course, but you'd never, ever, in a million years, believed your name would be picked. Never thought that one in ten million chance opportunity would be yours.

You make it through customs relatively unscathed and once more think that time is passing way too fast. You are maybe having the mental breakdown that had been pending since you'd received that fateful email from Hybe. You're not sure if you'd been able to hold it off until now through the sheer power of disbelief or if you'd simply been too busy.

Although a lot of the planning, and all of the expenses, for this trip were handled by Hybe you'd still had a pretty short window of time to sort your life out for a 9 day international vacation. Submitting your PTO request, finishing projects at work, dusting off your rusty Korean skills, making sure your passport was up to date, getting your visa sorted, finding someone to water your plants for you, corresponding with a freaking Hybe representative about details.

It had been a lot. Still was, actually. You move slowly through Incheon airport toward the baggage claim, taking your time to make sure you read the signs correctly. You always got anxious about getting lost in airports, no matter how many you'd been in. You were always convinced you were heading to the wrong place until you got there.

You’re sort of still sure you’re in the wrong place, actually. Just - in general. Not because of the airport specifically. Being in Korea, about to be carted off for last-minute paperwork and interviews, with intent to spend several days in the presence of your idols. You know you being here was a matter of random chance, but you can’t help but feel unworthy and out of place.

Mostly out of place. You’d never been the sort to do everything in your power to cross paths with your idols, and yet here you were. In fact, you’d maintained for years now that if you’d ever come across an idol in the wild you’d turn tail and run. You’re not sure how you’re going to handle being in close quarters with seven of them. You might faint. Actually, scratch that, you can almost guarantee you will.

You scoff at yourself a little bit. Here you are, about to live every AMRY's dream, and you're driving yourself into a panic attack at the baggage claim instead of enjoying it. Your luggage makes its slow and tottering way around the carousel, and you make no move to reach it any faster. Reality continues to make its presence known as your bag comes closer. By now, your fear has almost entirely overridden any excitement you're supposed to feel.

You swear that when you’d boarded your flight you’d been appropriately giddy. It's just that you're realizing some things right now. Like the fact you'll be spending a week in a house with seven strange men. Men you know of but have never met before. Men who are most assuredly stronger and more fit than you in every way. Men you've admired for years now. Men you are 100% sure to embarrass yourself in front of at some point.

Really, that's just a fact. It's a fact that feels scary right now, what with your anxiety overtaking your brain, but a fact nonetheless. You were a bit of an embarrassing person, and usually you'd embrace that, but right now it feels like a death knell.

You know that once the thing is actually happening and you don't have all this apprehension hanging over you anymore, you’ll be fine. You'll realize that everyone there are just people. That they're not so far off from yourself. You'll be far too busy being in the moment to cater to your anxiety. Everything will be fine.

If the voice in your head soothing you right now sounds more like your therapist than yourself, well, that’s for you to know. You’d internalize those kinder thoughts eventually. Your therapist said you would, anyways.

Your luggage is in front of you before you’re really ready. You're not really calm, but you’re not panicking either. You figure that’s as good as you’re gonna get, pull your big kid pants up over your anxieties and insecurities, and heave your luggage off of the conveyor belt. You suck in a stuttering breath and let it out smoother than it came in. The easy parts of this trip - the flight and the freaking out - were over. It’s time to find your ride.

You turn on your heel with a bit of determined flair. Dramatic? Maybe. But the animated movement makes you feel better and refocuses your attention to the task at hand. You let that energy carry you as stomp your way toward the loading area.

It doesn’t take you long to settle down and walk like a normal person again, but you cling tightly to the momentary confidence. You'll need it to bullshit your way through the next nine days. Finding the loading area you’d been told you’d be picked up from doesn’t take long either, and soon you’re paused off to the side to double check your instructions.

Well, you say instructions, it was more just a kind email explaining what to expect when you made it to Korea. Aside from a description of the person picking you up (the same Hybe representative you’d been corresponding with the whole time, thankfully) they’d also informed you that there would be some last-minute paperwork and that you’d be meeting the PD in charge of the show before being taken for a few interviews and photos. You’d get your post-travel rest after all of that.

It takes you several minutes of frantic double-triple-quadruple checking of your email and carefully surveying the crowd of travelers before you manage to spot who you’re looking for. She’s clear across the loading area from you, because of course she is, that’s just your luck, and the bright red hairband on her head combined with the sign with your name written in bold English in her hands tell you you have the right person.

She’s intimidatingly pretty and combined with the sharp way she’s dressed, black blazer and slacks and all, kinda makes you feel very under dressed and small in your baggy hoodie and paint-stained sweats. It’s a volatile combination of anxiety and relief that fills you as you start picking your way through the crowd. You dodge and weave through other travelers and their luggage to the best of your ability, but there are only so many toes you can dodge with your own suitcase being merrily unwieldy beside you.

You come to a stop in front of her entirely too quickly and your brain stalls as you desperately try to remember how to behave like a normal, rational, human being in front of a very attractive person. You somewhat hysterically think It’s good practice for when you meet BTS tomorrow. You fall hard on your manners about it and timidly call for her attention before introducing yourself and asking if she was who you were supposed to be looking for.

She smiles gently at you and suddenly you're a lot less nervous. Her smile makes her look kind and approachable and you’re immediately put at ease.

"It's nice to meet you, I'm Cheong Haneul, and I'll be your liaison with Hybe for the duration of your stay." She finishes off her introduction with a neat bow, which you clumsily copy.

"Thank you for taking care of me." You reply awkwardly, wanting to be polite. Hopefully she’ll forgive your lack of social graces. Hurriedly, you push the conversation onward. "Uhm, sorry to be asking questions already, but what do you mean by liaison?"

Haneul waves a hand in dismissal of your apology and explains, "It just means I'll be in charge of you. Make sure you get to where you need to be, you have all the information you need, that sort of thing. Answering your questions is definitely part of that." Her charming little grin endears her to you further and stalls your nerves. You give a small smile back and soon enough the two of you are making your way to a black SUV parked nearby.

There’s a man in business attire waiting by the driver’s side door as you approach. Haneul introduces him briefly and you give him a nervous smile and profuse thanks as he helps load your suitcase and carry-on bag into the trunk. Your bulky backpack finds it’s way into the backseat with you as Haneul motions you ahead of her, following shortly after.

You can’t help but notice she’s about 20 time more graceful than you as she climbs into the vehicle. You resolve to take notes. Surely getting a good grade in entering vehicles is normal to want and possible to achieve. Surely. Soon enough all bags and passengers are safely loaded, and the SUV lurches into motion as you begin to leave behind the airport at last.

Hanuel turns to face you as you get going properly, and begins to speak.

“So, first things first, sorry to sweep you up as soon as you’ve landed, but we’ve got a couple of house-keeping things to get through before you meet the group tomorrow.” She takes a moment to pull a manila folder from the seat pocket in front of her, opening it to reveal a few packets of what looks like questionnaires.

"The PD

#Baby Writes #Run ARMY! AU #w.i.p #w.i.p fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bangtan fic #bangtan x reader

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authorxxxxxx · 2 years

Text

Expect The Unexpected | Zlatan Ibrahimović x Female Reader | Soulmate AU

Summary : She left her hometown and moved to Rome to study at her favorite University . That's what she said to the people that asked her , but she knows it's not the truth . She is in pain and she thinks that she's never gonna find her true love , until she came across him .

He reached a certain point in his life where the only think that he cared about was his career . He didn't believe in love and he certainly didn't believe in love at first sight , until he spotted the girl with the beautiful and big bright eyes .

Trigger Warnings : Mentions of past toxic relationship , abuse and harassment , anxiety and panic attacks , stress , self - harm , insomnia and angst .

DON'T WORRY THER'S GOING TO BE FLUFF AT THE END

P.s. Hello Tumblr : ) This is my first time uploading something that I wrote so please be kind . I actually was inspired to write this because of a conversation I had with my best friend and a recent dream I had. This is an AU imagine , where Zlatan isn't married , he dosen't have any kids and he is close friends with Lionel Messi . Also ,English isn't my first language so if you spot a mistake please bare with me .

This turned out way longer than I expected - 12k words : \

Enjoy < 3

__________________________________________________

Reader's POV

I checked my test paper for one last time while I was making my way through the busy hall filled with students .

" How did it go ? " The teacher that was responsible for receiving all the test's asked me .

" It went well . " I responded to her trying to keep my tears from escaping .

University is stressing me out more than anything else and the amounts of studying for the exams isn't helping at all . I decided against taking the bus to return to my apartment . Plus walking in autumn is way better . I took out my earphones to listen to some music , thinking that it will calm me down . And then , the moment music flooded in my ears I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

In less than 20 minutes I'm back in my apartment . Specifically in the kitchen floor crying my eyes out , while Fluffy was sitting in my lap.

" Well at least I have you in my life . " I say to my cat Fluffy while petting him on his little head . He let's out a meow and looks at me .

" Sometimes I really think that you are the only one that understand me . " I say to him with a smile . The he suddenly meows and walks torwards his bowl . My smile drops and I get up to feed him .

" You ate breakfast 2 hours ago and you're fat . " I say to him while I'm putting food in his bowl . He dosen't give me a second glance and starts eating his food .

Meanwhile I'm standing in the middle of the kitchen rubbing my temple trying to get rid of my headache .

Music still plays through my headphones and I realise that I left my phone on the counter .

Taking it in my hands I see that I have a new message from a number that I have deleted from my contacts way too long ago .

' Why are you not answering any of my calls or messages ? It's not that you have more important things to do . One day you'll regret leaving me . '

I can imagine him typing at his phone angrily while drinking a beer or geting high .

The memories make their way back in my head and suddenly I can see him infront of me yelling and throwing things all over the place .

" You are just worthless and a waste of time . Don't you see ? You are the reason why I cheated on you at the first place . It's your fault . Everything you do is stupid . Every desicion you make is stupid . You deserve nothing . "

And whenever I didn't react and remained silent he would start to throw glass bottles on me . One time he got me in the head and when I tried to leave he did it again and again until I fell unconscious in the floor . When I woke up I was still on the floor , but I was almost naked and my body was full of cigar burns and bruises .

I closed my eyes and tried to make the memories get out of my head.

The song People You Know by Selena Gomez was playing through my headphones .

" How ironic . " I said while blocking his number .

Flyffy was meowing at me trying to get my attention .

" He won't find us . He can't find us . We are gonna be okay . " I said to him and went to my bedroom to change and read my new book as peacefully I can .

_____

I feel something hairy close to my face and when I open my eyes I see Flyffy's orange head looking at me while sitting on top of my chest . I turn my head to the right and see that it's near 6 p.m.

I close my eyes again and when I open them after a couple of minutes, I go to the kitchen to feed Flyffy . I make a tea for me and I go to the bathroom to take a shower .

I start to take off my cloths but then I stop and take a good look at myself in the mirror . My hair looks a mess and my eyes are red and have dark circles from not sleeping enough .

I spot the scars from the cigar burns on my shoulders and chest and I immediately look at my wrist's and thigh's . The scars I made myself a few days before are still visible .

Tears escape my eyes and I feel worthless and weak .

I try to calm myself down by stepping into the shower and for a few minutes I fell better under the hot droplets of the water . When I step out , I wrap myself with a white towel and go to my bedroom to put some comfy cloaths .

I change and I sit on my bed , but before I can open my book to read I hear a notification from my phone .

Flyffy jump's on the bed and I grab my phone hoping that everything is okay and I'm safe .

' Did you really think that by just blocking my number you could get away from me ? '

I stare at my screen for God know's how long .

My tea that has been sitting on top of my nightstand is now cold .

_____

Zlatan's POV

I'm basically training non - stop . I wake up at the morning and I go to the gym at the training centre , then I train with the others , the I train by myself again . Basically all I do is train . My goal is to become an even better version of myself . I want to show them what I'm capable of doing . My agent said to me that there is a chance that I'll be transferring in AC Milan in a couple of weeks . I actually can't wait to leave this team . I've been here for two years and the only think that I've been doing is running up and down a field . I decided that I'll keep in touch with Lionel and couple players , but that's it .

Now , I'm in my house playing PS3 and waiting for my agent to call me and tell me when I'll be leaving for Milan . I want to visit Rome first thought . I feel that I have the need to go there . Maybe it's because I've never really went out in the city when I visited last time .

After a few days , I'm sitting in a private jet flying from Spain to Italy with Lionel . He decided to come with me because as he said " I need a break from all this and besides you need me here . Your happiness depends on me . I'm gonna help you have fun . Do you even now what that is ? " He said to me .

" What are you even saying to me ? This is bullshit . Ofcourse I know what happiness is . I have fun on my own . " I answered looking at him.

He just looked at me and responded to me with that smile of his .

" How come you didn't bring Antonela with you ? " I asked trying to change the topic of the conversation .

" Do you wanted her to talk about your non existing love life for the whole trip and how you haven't found your soulmate yet ? " He aksed while looking at his phone .

I just granted in response .

I've reached a certain point in my life where all I can think is my career . And besides that I don't need love and all that in my life . I'm perfectly fine on my own .

And with that I closed my eyes and tried to sleep .

_____

" Wake up . We're landing . " Lionel said to me while rocking my shoulder .

I checked my seatbelt and waited for the touch - down .

In less than one hour I've settled into my new home and getting ready to go walk in the town . I just feel the need to walk alone .

_____

Reader's POV

I was sitting in my couch reading my book . Flyffy is sleeping besides me . I'm bored . Should I maybe go out ? I ask myself and befone I knew it I was in front of my closet trying to find what to wear .

I decided on a pair of black sweatpands and a hoodie . I puy on my black jacket and shoes and before I step out of the door I grab my earphones and keys . I decided to go to the fountain Fontana di Trevi since it was beautiful to look at night .

I put on my earphones to listen to some music while I'm walking .

Rome at night is so noisy , but in the same time so silent .

Especially if you're all alone .

I'm alone .

The fountain is so beautiful . I search at my pockets for some coins to throw .

I look at the gold coin in my hand and tears start to form in my eyes .

' I don't wanna be alone anymore . I say to myself and wipe my tears with the back of my hand .

I throw the coin in the fountain and then I take a deep breath .

I suddenly feel the urge to turn my head to the right and when I do , I came across a pair of dark brown eyes staring at me like they want to know my deapest secrets . I take a step back and study his body . He is tall maybe over 6 feet , has a small ponytail , strong jaw - but then again - I lock my eyes in his and can't seem to get away .

_____

Zlatan's POV

I was throwing some coins in the fountain . It was noisy and some people recognized me and asked for a photo now and there , but still it was in a way - silent .

I turn left ready to leave and head back to my home until I came across a small figure not so close to me but not so far away that I couldn't not see their face .

She's short , maybe 5 ' 2 and she has dark brown hair . A tear rolls down her face but she quickly wiped with the back of her hand . When she turns her head towards my direction , I came across a pair of bright blue eyes - the kind of blue I loved in my entire life . Like the blue of the morning sky .

And we lock gazes - looking at each other for some seconds , until she takes a step back to look at my face .

My eyes don't leave hers even for a seccond - and we just stay like this . Looking each other and I can't seem to look away .

_____

They are looking at each other for a couple of minutes , but when she turns her gaze away trying to leave , he reacts quickly by slightly grabbing her left palm .

She stops dead in her tracks at the sudden touch .

His big hand covers her small one , but she doesn't protest . She just stays there enjoying the warmth of his palm over her cold one .

After looking at her for a little more he realized that she looked kinda scared so he left her hand .

" I'm sorry . I don't know why I did that . " He said to her .

He had a deep voice with an accent that and she thought that she could listen to his voice for the rest of life .

" It's okay . " She answered while looking at him .

And suddenly , the both felt the exact same thing . He felt in peace and for once in his life he wasn't mad . She felt safe for the first time in a really long time . They felt like they were made for one another .

" I need to get back home . I mean ... I - I have a cat and he's alone - " She said but she stoped after a smile appeared in his face .

" Let me walk you home . " He said to her while coming a little closer .

She just nodded her head and bite her her lower lip .

They started walking together silently when she stopped and looked up at him . He was already looking at her . He then grabbed her hand in his and started walking again .

_____

They walked holding hands in the night and when they reacher her complex apartment he looked down at her .

" I know that all of this is weird, but can I have your number ? I mean I already know where you live now . " He said while smiling and she laughed nodding her head .

_____

When she entered her apartment , she threw her keys in the counter and fell in the couch with a smile .

Flyffy came running towards her meowing .

" You'll never believe what happened . " She said to the orange cat while looking at him .

Where Have You Been by Rihanna was playing through her earphones. She took her phone in her hands and when she looked at the screen , there was a new message from him .

From the man with the dark brown eyes .

Zlatan : Still can't explain what happened an hour ago . Can I see you tomorrow ?

' How ironic ' She thought while answering him with a smile .

_____

Tags : @unimportantbabymilksharkte

#footballer imagine #football fanfic #football x reader #football x you #zlatan ibrahimovic imagines #zlatan ibrahimovic x reader #zlatan ibrahimovic x you

70 notes · View notes

1d1195 · 2 years

Text

Hurt

Notes: Much like my Time series, this is just in my head and won’t leave. It’s a bit different than most of my other writing. It’s definitely got some sensitive implications and topics (please read the warnings below). I am definitely not well-versed—if you will—in what I’m about to write but I wanted to write something along with this song because I find it so heartbreakingly sad but lovely. In a weird way, I focus on the hope at the end (hence why you will see a bit of my regular self in this writing). I’m not stupid though: I know this is completely unrealistic. It has nothing to do with the actual scenario and everything to do with the song and if you squint it’s reminiscent of Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash and their undeniable infatuation with one another and how she would stick by him no matter what. That’s what I was going for. Please read the warnings below and don't read if you are struggling.

I promise Normal People Part 2 will be next. But when inspiration strikes you roll with it.

Warnings: implications of substance abuse, drugs, alcohol, pills, implications of overdosing. I think this could be very triggering so 18+, no minors allowed. Harry is basically used as a figure and not used for his actual character of course. If you would like to talk or chat my asks and messages are always open, and I love you all so much. This is your last chance to click away.

A special thank you to @a-strange-familiar and @adoringyouliz for reading ahead of time to help me decide if I should post this.

What have I become? / My sweetest friend / everyone I know / goes away, in the end / and you could have it all / my empire of dirt / I will let you down / I will make you hurt

She danced in the edges of his vision. He wasn’t completely high nor drunk, but he wasn’t quite sober. It was a regular occurrence now. His head aching with pain that wouldn’t subside without the familiar comfort of something in his system. It didn’t matter which vice he chose.

But then everything was shifting in his head. Something about how he felt was changing. “What did I do?” He murmured to himself. His eyelids fluttered close as he smushed his face into the pillow of his bed. He had been doing so good. So good for her. He could hear her scolding him now for doing this to himself. For hurting himself—and by extension her.

But he was just so sad.

And tired.

It was just not him to continue doing this, but he couldn’t help himself. It hurt less to be numb like this. When he wasn’t expected to do anything. When he could just lay there on his bed and not think of anything.

Nothing but her.

He managed to put his phone near his face. Blearily he texted as many of his friends as he could hoping someone would answer him late in that deafening early night. Nothing good ever happened after midnight unless she was around. But he couldn’t bring himself to bother her. To tell her that he hurt himself...again.

He was tired of being the one needing saving. He wanted to save her but didn’t know how. What could he give her, really? This dingy one bedroom with a mess in every corner of it? Including the mess in his head that was wrapped up in blankets on a dingy mattress?

Harry cracked the window early in the evening to release the smell of stale smoke from his room; with it open now, letting the cold breeze in, he was chilled to the bone. If he was smart, he would shut it. Or maybe if he had the strength, he would shut it. But instead, he stayed snuggled in his blankets.

No one he messaged answered his texts. They were used to his bouts and fits of spiraling. There was a bottle of pills on the floor near his phone and hand mocking him. He spilled several out of the bottle onto the floor. He pushed them into a ring of pain that he thought (and maybe hoped) would end if he took each one from the circle and swallowed it.

The minutes ticked by on his phone, and he thought he should just text her. If he texted her, she would make it better. Even when she didn’t want to, she always answered his calls.

But he couldn’t. She insisted that last time was the last time. The last time she would save him. She was exhausted. Tired of fixing him, tired of hoping, tired of waiting. She was really the sweetest. He could see it pained her to leave. Just like everyone else. She didn’t want to leave—maybe almost as much as he wanted her to stay. But he hurt her just as much as he hurt himself. He didn’t blame her, of course he didn’t. It was his fault.

All my fault. Always my fault. It was the one thing he best: pushed everyone away from him.

He never thought he would push her away.

So when he pulled the final string and broke her and made her leave, he did some soul searching. When she finally told him not to call her anymore when he needed her. Not to talk to her and to lose her number for good. But he couldn’t. He adored her. Even in his broken brain, he knew he loved her beyond reason and if he could just get it together, it would be for her and no one else.

But today was a bad day for him. He was sad, cold, devastated and broken beyond reason. He couldn’t do anything right at work. Dropping at least three glasses, getting into it with a belligerent customer, and arguing with his manager (even if they were what Harry would consider friends), and it just piled and piled. He was itching to leave the stupid bar where he poured drinks for people who were drunk, and he thought it was unfair they could be so at ease while drinking and he couldn’t.

It started with one drink.

It’s just a drink he thought.

But one drink turned into another. And the pain subsided. But only for a half hour or so. So, he had another. And that drink turned into a cigarette and Niall told him to wait just another hour before his shift was over and then he would drive him home. The second Harry crossed the threshold of his apartment, he was clawing at his arms, his fingers scraping skin under his nails, begging for a relief of some kind that he wanted more than anything. He wanted to feel numb. But the shrivel of rationality that hid in his brain—with the voice that sounded so much like her—was screaming at him to do anything but what he wanted to do.

Instead, he begged his neighbor—whose apartment permeated the smell of weed down the entire hall of the building—to let him in and have whatever he was willing to give him. That was hours and hours ago. Harry doesn’t remember the sixth and seventh drink. He doesn’t remember how he got the pills.

The only thought in his head reminded him that she would be mad at him. That made him feel worse. But even still, this felt worse than normal. Something about the way everything mixed: the feel of his nails scraping his skin, the alcohol, the pills, the weed. His head was aching as he looked at the pills—was there one less now? He couldn’t remember.

He just wanted to sleep. But when he slept, the thoughts of her were inescapable. Her beautiful smile, her lilting laugh, her gentle encouragement, her humor, her intelligence. Her entire being overwhelmed him and the only comfort he had was knowing she would star in his dreams. While it was delightful to see his angel while asleep, it made waking up so much harder. Especially now she had been gone for so long. It was a tease to see her in the dreams and then not have her at all. It made him mad and sad.

But sleep was winning over him. The pills and alcohol, along with the open window made his body shiver. He rubbed his face into the pillow and let his eyes close. At least he would see her soon.

If I could start again / a million miles away / I would keep myself / I would find a way

There was so much banging against the door. He thought it was weird they allowed that in the hotel. He supposed it probably made sense given it was now morning and he was still asleep. He probably overstayed his welcome again; slept through the cleaning ladies kindly asking him to leave. He should have gotten up, but his limbs felt so heavy he thought he would die trying to lift them.

The banging subsided finally, and he rested into a deeper sleep for all but a second. He didn’t dream of her—that was odd. He always dreamed of her. Maybe he finally pushed her out of his dreams too. The thought broke his heart and if he was awake, fully, he would have cried. He wanted to see her so bad. Wanted to envision her one last time before—

“Harry!” She shouted. It jolted his brain awake but not his body or eyes. She was definitely there. Her shout was too loud to be a dream. He wondered where she was—wanted to reach for her in the bed. Maybe she was having a nightmare.

Why was she at the hotel with him? Were they together again? On vacation? Surely, he would have remembered her careful planning. He couldn’t name one thing on her itinerary—how could he forget? Not remembering her itinerary, waking up late, that would be more grounds for her to leave for good. When did she come back? It was weird he didn’t remember that. He should have. Her coming back would have saved him that cold night.

“Harry, baby,” she cried. “Harry, please,” she begged. “It’s in the medicine cabinet!” She shouted. “Hurry!” He felt her warm hands on his face, but his eyelids felt just as heavy as his limbs. “Baby, please wake up,” she sobbed. It felt so sad she was so upset. He liked the way baby sounded on her lips. He liked being her baby. It made him feel flooded with the warmth of her love.

There was a cold sensation in his nose that tickled the inside and he wanted to jerk his head away, but his neck wasn’t moving. He wanted to rub it away from his nose, but he couldn’t; his limbs weren’t working the way he wanted them to.

All at once he was awake. He sat up, gasping, coughing, and sputtering but she was right there in his arms. She looped her arms around his neck, and she breathed out a shaky cry against him. He was shaking all over as his arms wound around her waist. He felt weak—he wanted to squeeze her to his body, but he felt like his limbs weren’t his own. He shook his aching head as he glanced over her shoulder to see the white nasal spray on the floor. He tried to piece it together more quickly, but he couldn’t. “Jesus Christ, Harry,” she sobbed in his ear.

He felt so nauseous he couldn’t even respond before he was throwing up over her shoulder like a baby but only so much worse. She didn’t even move. She wasn’t even fazed. She continued to cry into his neck as his body shivered and sweated.

But she was there.

She pulled back, the acidic smell of vomit not deterring her even slightly. She was so much better in real life than his visions and dreams. She was a vision. He had no right to look at this angelic being.

“M’sorry love,” it wasn’t Harry that said it. “I should have answered.”

She turned to glare at Harry’s best friend in the doorway and then she shook her head. She looked back at Harry. “Are you alright?” She whispered.

He nodded in stunned silence trying to make the pieces work together. This wasn’t a hotel. This was his apartment. He didn’t dream her. She was here. It was the cold night still. He was freezing. “You can leave,” she sniffled at his friend in the doorway. She put her hands on Harry’s chest, fiddled with the neckline of his shirt, picking at the edge of it. Harry was so confused. So shaky. He was sweating something fierce and the uneasiness in his stomach wasn’t helping.

“Harry,” Mitch said, dropping his hand from the doorframe. Harry looked up at him in complete confusion as to what was going on. His friend looked like he had seen a ghost. “This is it: don’t lose her,” he said.

He didn’t know what to say, he knew he was right, for whatever reason that may be. He nodded at him. When he heard the door click shut, he blinked at the headache behind his eyes. “Wh—what happened?” He asked tentatively. His throat was scratchy.

“Harry,” she said, her voice breaking so horribly Harry wanted to cry himself. It was his fault she was so upset. It was his fault. It always was.

“I-I don’t remember,” he mumbled. He really wanted some water. She must have sensed that. She untangled herself from him and she rubbed her eyes quickly. She stripped herself of her clothes. Harry was so affronted by how comfortable she was to do so. He was so utterly confused. Nothing about this dream made sense. “Am I dreaming?”

She snorted through her tears. “This is not a time to flirt, Harry,” she mumbled.

“M’not,” he pouted in confusion. He wasn’t. He was used to her naked figure. He liked the bra she was wearing. It was pink and contrasted to her skin so beautifully he could have cried. It matched the lace that failed to cover her perfect butt as she yanked open a dresser drawer. She selected a pair of Harry’s sweats and yanked another drawer open to get a shirt. She pulled her hair into a bun atop her head and somehow, even with the smell of vomit assaulting his nose, she was by far the most gorgeous being he'd ever seen.

But he wasn’t flirting. He had seen her before and sure he loved seeing her like this, but he knew instinctively it wasn’t the time.

She grabbed another set of clothes and turned back to him; crouched in front of him; between his knees. She looked at his arms. Raw with claw marks from his own nails. She ran her fingertips over the reddened paths, and she tilted his forearms every which way. Inspecting them. Harry felt utterly exposed.

“I didn’t do that,” he told her. He knew what she was looking for. He wanted to explain that the last time she left he stopped. It wasn’t much but it was something he knew he had to stop. She turned her gaze to his eyes. Her lashes were sparkling with tears, the corners red and her pupils widened in disbelief. He cleared his scratchy throat. “Just...pills,” he said quietly. She nodded silently.

“C’mon,” she sniffled tugging him to a standing position. His stomach protested immediately. “Oh shit,” he said putting a hand to his mouth. She beelined for the small trash can she gifted his room when he moved in and put it under his chin just as he vomited once more. Unfazed again, she rubbed her hand on his back as she guided him to his bathroom.

It was a mess. Towels and clothes piled behind the door barely allowing her to open it. She pushed Harry to sit on the toilet lid. She grouped the clothes and towels in her arm and threw them outside the door. She took stock of the shower; it wasn’t the cleanest shower she’d ever seen but it wasn’t as dirty as she expected. She turned on the water feeling the warmth before she pulled Harry’s shirt over his head. He was freezing and shivering. Goosebumps plagued his body. His head was clearing only slightly. Like he was fogged up from too long of a nap. “Are you going to throw up again?” She asked as she pulled his pants down like a toddler.

He felt completely embarrassed the way she was so...mechanically, near medically taking care of him...it was routine for her. “No.”

She nodded; her eyes blank. “Shower, please,” she pulled the shower curtain back for him to get in. Without another word or another order, she closed the door behind her. Harry swallowed nervously. Terrified she was leaving. But he would rather die than not listen to her.

Again.

So he got in the shower.

When he exited the shower, he realized she must have reentered the bathroom while he was in a daze of warm water easing his aching and shivering body. There was a warm fluffy towel on top of the second set of clothes. His stomach didn’t hurt so much anymore. And the need for water was getting stronger. He wondered where she got the towel from. He hadn’t done laundry in a long while. Harry brushed his teeth to rid himself of the taste of vomit.

She opened the door as Harry tugged the sweats around his hips. She was still just as beautiful as she was when he looked her over in his bedroom. And she held a glass of water in her hand. It made her even more beautiful.

“Go lay down,” she was ordering again.

He wasn’t going to disobey her.

She closed the door behind him as he exited, and he heard the water turn back on. He wished he had her hair stuff, her moisturizer...like when she used to be here all the time. He wanted to make her feel at home. But it didn’t matter because she locked the door anyway. He pressed his ear to the door listening to her soft cries in between the streams of water. He closed his eyes and sighed. He gripped the cup of water tightly aching at the sound of her sadness.

He returned to his bedroom to find it almost totally organized. She was quick. The mess of clothes that hadn’t been washed was gone. The sheets and blankets that he’d been sick on were nowhere to be seen but he could vaguely hear the washer going in the other room. A new set of sheets and blankets were fluffed on his mattress. The smell of apple spice filled his room from the lit candle and the window was still open, but it seemed warm now. Like she brought a warm breeze to replace the cold the filled the room. He was ogling the space when she brushed past him and took the brush off his dresser to yank it through her hair.

“Not s’rough, kitten,” he murmured. She glanced at him. Her anxious expression softening just a bit at his gentle command. He had no right, but he loved her and her gorgeous hair. He didn’t want her head to hurt. She paused her actions for a moment before she pulled more delicately through her damp hair. Once done with her hair, she tugged the covers back and nodded her head at him.

“Get in,” she said firmly.

He swallowed nervously looking at the bed and then her. He couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t take it anymore. Mitch’s words rang through her head. This is it. “Are you leaving?” He croaked. He couldn’t lose her. If he lost her, he wished she didn’t even come to his place tonight. Someone could have found him in a few days.

“No, Harry. M’not,” she said softly. He felt the tension in his chest release knowing she wasn’t going to leave. As soon as she saw he was cemented into the corner of his bed near the wall, she blew out the candle and closed the window so just a crack was left to keep the air flowing. She flicked the light switch and drenched the two of them in darkness.

His eyes didn’t adjust to the complete blackness, so he was a tad startled when she slipped into bed beside him. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He wanted to hold her, caress her, and cradle her. She saved him again, as she always did. He wanted to kiss her in thanks. Whisper to her that it would never happen again.

Harry didn’t know if he could fall asleep. The adrenaline was still fluttering in his veins. His head still hurt a bit and he ached and shivered. But her hand reached out and rested on his heart. He knew it was beating erratically. Calling out a rhythm that only an eventful night like his could have. “I was dreaming about you,” she whispered. “I always do...and I woke up terrified. So, I called you,” her voice was near silent. Harry had to strain to hear. “You answered... but didn’t say anything. And I just knew...” she shook her head. Harry listened intently trying to piece his night together. “You scared me so fucking bad, Harry Styles...I screamed and screamed through the phone. I was running here. I didn’t even grab my keys,” she whimpered. “I was calling everyone I knew, and I was banging on your door waking everyone in the building up. They probably hate me,” she said. “I had an axe in my hand ready to cut the door down when Mitch came with the key.”

Harry wanted to laugh because that sounded exactly like something she would do for him. But he couldn’t laugh. It wasn’t funny. Poor Mitch. Harry thought.

“Poor Mitch,” she mumbled.

He smirked weakly. Grateful for the dark because he shouldn’t have been smiling. Not about this. Not about her being scared...about Harry’s wellbeing. “M’sorry.”

“Harry,” she whispered. “You have to stop,” she said. “I can’t...live without you. But I can’t live with you like this.”

“I know,” he said simply. He didn’t argue. She was quiet for a few moments.

“I thought you died,” she sniffled.

He reached out, finally. “M’sorry,” he repeated letting his hand cup the side of her face. He rubbed his thumb along her cheek feeling the dampness from her eyes pool onto her skin.

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to do something,” she said harshly. “I thought I lost you.”

He wanted to do something about it too. He couldn’t take when she was distraught. Every single time she was distraught, it was his fault. He imagined her running through the dark streets, screaming and terrified that he’d finally left this earth. It explained the dream vacation. His heavy limbs. He imagined her shouting, grabbing the axe for emergencies outside the apartment door across from the fire extinguisher—ready to get to Harry however she had to. Through his dreamlike state, he knew she was there reviving his broken and sad soul. “I think you would be better off,” he mumbled.

She turned, presumably to face Harry but he still couldn’t see. “Harry,” her voice scolding him again, but it was gentle this time. “I would die if something happened to you,” she said it so with such an obvious tone. As if it was the most apparent thing in the world. “I don’t...I don’t know what else to say.”

“You should really leave me,” he was starting to wallow. It was the same routine. He could feel the dread setting in.

“Harry, baby,” she cooed knowing all the phases of his self-pity. Even when she should have been screaming at him. Leaving him. Certainly not lying in bed beside him. She reached out and put her hands on either side of his face. He wished he could see her, but it felt like she could the way he cupped his face in her hands. “I love you. And I’m never going to stop. So, you have me, regardless of what you do to your body. But I would appreciate it if you would try to keep yourself around so I’m not so sad and miserable all the time worrying about you,” she whispered.

“’Ve never deserved you...still don’t.”

“I don’t care,” she promised. Her lips were closer to his face. Her breath enveloping all of his senses. She was the best high he’d ever had. “I want all of you.”

He felt dizzy to hear her sweet words. She was so fucking lovely. “Why?” He asked.

Her nose bumped into his. She shook her head and sighed. “I just do,” she whispered.

“You’re an idiot.”

“So be it.”

He swallowed. “M’scared.”

“I know. I am too.”

“You love me?”

“With every breath.”

They were silent for a few moments. Just the sound of their breath mixing together. “I might mess up,” his voice was so quiet. She brushed her thumbs below his lashes. He wondered if she could feel the tears working their way out of his eyes.

“I need you to try, Harry."

He pressed his forehead to hers. He closed his eyes; he was finally tired. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I know,” she said softly.

He smirked. “M’so fucking sorry,” he promised.

“I know that, too,” she nodded. “Against my better judgement, I’m so unbelievably in love with you. I can’t lose you. I won’t stand for it.”

“Kitten,” his voice broke again.

“What, baby?”

“Can I kiss you?” He felt strangled by the words. He feared her rejection. He wouldn’t blame her. She could love him and love him and never want to kiss him or touch him ever again. It would make sense. There was surely a limit on the number of times she could save him. A limit on the number of times she wanted to save him.

He felt so low. So broken. Who on earth would want him and his stupid self? His messy apartment and messy head?

“Please, kiss me Harry,” she breathed. Hope bloomed in his chest like nothing he had ever felt before. It was warm and beautiful.

He slotted his lips over hers. He kissed her so deeply she felt it in every crevice of her broken heart. It was patching the holes he left the last time they fought and argued. The last time they were together before tonight. It felt like healing. The vision of Harry: his lifeless curls, his pale face. All faced down in his bed, drooling, his eyes closed as if he was sleeping but looking so...she shook her head and pulled from his lips. She kissed his cheeks shaking her head of the image more, hiding from it. Trying to keep the tears of almost losing her best friend from falling again. “You need to sleep. You’re going to be mean tomorrow,” she pulled from his face carefully before she pressed another kiss to his lips that made all the pain leave his body.

“Yeah,” he sighed thinking about the withdrawal he was about to go through. Again. She kissed his lips again, replacing the bad feelings with more hope and love. “You’ll be here?”

“Don’t know where else I’d be,” she said softly. Sleepily. She ran her fingers up and down his chest. Her legs tangled with his. It was reflexive. A memory of the days before this cold night. It made him warmer. This time was different. He doesn’t know why. But he felt it in every achy and cold blood vessel that was blooming with love for her. His angel.

He brought his hand to her face again, his palm pressed to her cheek. “Think m’gonna love you forever.”

“As long as we have forever.”

“Thank you,” he said finally. “We will,” he promised. “M’sure of it.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles sad #harry styles au #hurt

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gregorygerwitz · 1 year

Note

Mousestead, "I'm incapable of love."

I saw an opportunity to write demi-romantic!Mouse so I'm doing it, with some platonic Moustead. also it's an AU where he got to be at the Upstead wedding because it's what I, personally, deserved. also I don't know how to stop at five sentences.

"I'm incapable of love."

Jay rolled his eyes at the comment and the smirk that came with it. All he'd asked was when he would get to return the favor from the month before, get to be the best man at a wedding - since Adam certainly wasn't going to ask him, not with Kevin as an option, and he still had to actually ask the question before that kind of decision could be made.

His only hope to put on a suit without all of the pressure of an eternal vow was the person who had been his own best man, who had stood next to him while he promised himself to Hailey for the rest of their joint lives. Maybe he should have expected the cheeky response, the unnecessary reminder that Mouse had never had a relationship, let alone one serious enough to warrant the sound of wedding bells. He'd always been all too happy to be casual, wearing shirts that didn't belong to him around the district, going out to clubs and listening to loud music while hitting on the first attractive man he saw. Even at his bachelor party, Jay had watched while Mouse bought a drink for a guy at the next table over, making those eyes that got him anything and everything he wanted.

But that had to stop sometime, right? He couldn't just have casual hookups forever.

"You are not incapable of love." It had taken a moment for him to find the right words, the bottle of beer in his hand less refreshingly cold than it had been when he first took it out of the fridge. "You just refuse to consider taking something more seriously than a night of sex. You wore that same shirt yesterday, by the way."

Mouse rolled his eyes and took a drink from his own bottle, suddenly avoiding eye contact. Discussing his extended slut phase had never been off limits before. He'd always seemed to feed into the jokes, or make them himself, and his laughter about it was always genuine. But something had shifted in the air between them, like they weren't joking about it anymore. And that was fine - he just needed to know what the new tone of the conversation was.

"Yeah... maybe it is something like that..."

Jay bit his tongue and tried to be patient, letting the quiet hang between them. Maybe, if he waited, Mouse would open up about his thoughts on his own. But almost a whole minute passed, and it was clear that wasn't going to happen. So, with his voice gentle and low, he risked prompting for more instead. "Or...?"

"Or... what if I am incapable of love? I mean..." It worked, at least, inspiring Mouse to actually share his thoughts, even if they were a bit jumbled. "Not entirely incapable, because I do love things. I love my job, and my life, and where I've ended up. And I love my friendship with you. But the romantic, sappy shit, like what you and Hailey have? It's been a long time since I thought I'd have anything like that. It's..."

"Not feeling something right now doesn't mean you're never gonna feel it-"

"I know." Mouse wasn't making eye contact, but his smile was small, and soft, and genuine. That was enough. "I'm not saying never. Someone could come along and surprise me. But I... I figured some stuff out? When I was in Atlanta last year? Like... I'm happy, you know? Doing my casual thing, not making any commitments, just going with the flow. I like it. Anything more than that... it's not me. There's a difference - sexual attraction, romantic attraction, they're not the same thing. I'm very gay, still, I'm not taking that back or anything. But..."

Jay shook his head and shifted in his seat, getting comfortable and making sure he looked it on the outside, too. They hadn't had a conversation, about that label, not one that either of them were happy with. It had been sprung on him with no warning in the middle of brunch, an embarrassing scene that they had to try to ignore while their friendship only got stronger. And it wasn't like Jay had ever felt the need to declare his realization when it wasn't relevant, and his own makeshift coming out had been through a bad pun he hadn't been able to resist. Actually getting to talk about things, on their own terms, that was practically brand new. He wanted to appreciate it for all the times he didn't get to.

"Another label. Are you collecting them, or something? Are you going to trade them in for a prize later?" He sipped from his beer with a smile - not a smirk, even if it would match the tone of his teasing, because that wasn't what he wanted. This was supposed to be a good moment, not a taunting one. "Alright, hit me. What am I going to pretend to understand and then go google as soon as you leave?"

He got a scoff in return, and a laugh that made him feel warm. That sound was absent from brunch, and far too long afterwards, and it was a nice change. "Yeah, okay. You know what asexuality is, right?"

"I do remember that one in my research, yes."

"Right, so... it's kind of like that? But with romantic attraction. It's called aromantic."

"And that's what you are? That's the new label?"

"Not exactly." They were both quiet long enough to take another drink, comfortable in it. They could always be comfortable in each other's quiet, and sometimes the heavier conversations needed it. This one did, even if it was brief. "Aromantic is kind of its own umbrella. Lots of things fall under it. Like how gay means gay, and bi, and every other thing you can think of? I'm... somewhere under that umbrella, leaning more in one direction than others."

"So, what am I googling when you go home later?"

Mouse sighed, but it was fond, and his smile was bigger. He didn't have to say it, that he appreciated how light the conversation still was after the first time, after they didn't get to be light and silly or say things on their own schedule. It was different in the best way, even if it took a decade to get there.

"Demiromantic. I'll text it to you so you know how to spell it."

"Doesn't seem too difficult."

"That's your third beer."

"What's your point?"

"I'll just text it to your wife."

[ send me a ship + 1 sentence and I'll write the next 5 ]

#answered #anon #mouse gerwitz #greg gerwitz #greg mouse gerwitz #jay halstead #cpd #chicago pd #one chicago #alex writes things #demi romantic mouse is my favorite headcanon

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beck-a-leck · 1 year

Text

I'm gonna vent about fic comment etiquette for a hot minute beneath the cut and I'll probably delete this later after I've slept on it but...

I thought I would take my fics off of Registered Users Only lockdown, after being on it for several months. Not gonna lie I missed my guest readers and commenters.

But literally less than 2 hours after I did that I got this comment from a repeat guest commenter who has pretty much exclusively only asked the same thing when they comment

I'm legally allowed to commit murder now, right?

Like. For the last 3+ years this person has been reading my fics almost all of their comments are like this.

I'll post a brand new chapter and they'll comment 30 seconds later, "update when?"

Like. 😤

I get being excited over a fic. I get eagerly waiting for the next chapter. I even get the impatience that can come when a fic hasn't been updated in over a year.

I am very flattered to know that people feel that way about my stories.

But, mother fucker, I have been working on other things. If you just took 30 seconds to look at the rest of my profile, you would see that I have been writing other stories. I've been thinking about other fandoms. I've been juggling a dozen different projects at any one time. And I just want to shake them and shout "You'll get it when you get it! Stop asking!"

Like. I'm pretty sure this person commented a few months ago under a different name trying to semi-guilt trip me into continuing the story, which is not and never has been abandoned, and all they ever do it trigger the contrarian little gremlin in my brain that immediately says "well, now it's gonna take even longer. Nyeh!"

I just... idk. Part of me doesn't want to assume they're intentionally being rude. But also.

There are ways to comment on a fic you enjoy and would like to see more of, even if it's been on hiatus for a while without just demanding an update. They've MADE comments in the past that have been enthused and not demanding. But recently they've just gotten rude about it, treating me like I'm a vending machine and if they drop a comment (and comment) they'll get the content they want churned out to them in 2-3 business days.

I mean. Jfc saying "Please and Thank You" can go a really long way when you're asking people for things.

Like...

I just wonder if readers like that don't realize that every frustration they feel about an unfinished story, the writer feels tenfold along with a dozen other complicated feelings about it.

I certainly didn't expect that fic to still be in progress 3 years later. I thought it would be done in 6-8 months. But I can't control my damn muses and sometimes the inspiration just goes away for a very long time, and as the writer it's infuriating and guilt-inducing to see that Last Updated date getting farther and farther away.

But as the writer who is also doing all of this for free and for fun, I want to keep writing the stories that are currently fun for me, which means enjoying when different fandoms and new story ideas come and grab me by the hand and drag me off on new adventures.

I should just ignore the comment. Or at the very least wait until I'm less annoyed about it so I can respond civilly. But right now I'm just lying in bed, considering taking away guest reader privileges again. Just because I'm feeling petty.

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margalitarry · 2 years

Text

dorothea | c.b

~❦~❦~❦~❦~❦~❦~❦~

ooh, you're a queen

selling dreams

selling make up and magazines

ooh, from you i’d buy anything

colby brock x reader

warnings : depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts, mention of drugs (xanax)

word count : 1.4k

notes : i love writing emotional fics so much omg. inspired by taylor swifts song, dorothea. you and colby were best friends (aka both def crush on each other but whatevz) and you decide to pick up the unknown call

~❦~❦~❦~❦~❦~❦~❦~

colby scrolled through his instagram feed, feeling like every photo was you. last night had been the release of your highly anticipated album, and he had of course listened to it.

you and colby had met when he first moved to LA with sam. you were one of the first people he had met and you both immediately clicked. you easily fell into his patterns and hung out nearly everyday. you helped him and sam film videos for their channel, and he helped you with pursing a music career.

everything was fine until you had released your first album. it was incredibly successful, you had even won a grammy award. you began to travel not only all over america, but the world for interviews, tour, photo shoots, and everything else in between. it was an extremely difficult change and even more difficult to balance your relationships.

at first you insisted on calling colby at any and every moment you could. even if it was for a few minutes, talking to him helped your nerves. but as the months went on you had begun getting depressed, withdrawing yourself from not only colby but many of your other friends. you felt you only had time for your career, and if you weren’t asleep you always had something or somewhere to be.

colby was never mad at you for calling less and was extremely understanding. he just wanted you to be happy, and he believed that at that time you were happier with whatever you had been doing. he couldn’t deny one thing though; having to find out bits of your life through the news made him extremely sad.

it was almost 4 in the morning when you had gotten home from your release party, which you didn’t even want to go to. you had tried to leave multiple times but your manager insisted you should stay. you groaned when your phone began to ring, expecting your manager to update you on some statistic you couldn’t care about.

‘no caller id’

you didn’t know what came over you, because technically you weren’t supposed to pick up a call you didn’t know. especially without a caller id. it could be a fan who somehow got your number, but you picked it up.

“hello?” you said after picking up the call.

“hey hello? y/n?” an extremely familiar voice replied, letting your stomach drop at the thought of who it could be.

“colby brock? are you seriously calling me right now?” you asked, excitement and anxiety running through your voice.

“yeah, yeah it’s me! how are you doing? it’s been forever i feel like.”

“i’m okay, really tired right now. i just got to my hotel room after being out all night at the listening party for my album. how are you?”

“i’m good, your album is amazing by the way. sam and i listened to it when it dropped. are you in la?”

you almost felt guilty talking to him right now, it felt like nothing had happened and just like the years together before but something wasn’t right. it didn’t feel the same.

“no, i honestly wish. i’m in new york right now, i have a show at madison square garden tomorrow night.” you told him.

“oh damn! you’re just selling dreams and everything now. i’m really proud of you, holy shit!” colby exclaimed, he couldn’t believe you had picked up his call. but he could hear a dullness in your voice that wasn’t there before.

“thank you” you lightly laughed

“are you seriously doing okay though? you sound a little more than just tired y/n.” colby asked, not beating around the bush. if he felt something was wrong he wanted to know.

his question took you aback; although you expected him to say something along those lines. you didn’t know how to answer, because truthfully you didn’t know how you were feeling. you were filled with joy from the overwhelming support, but you desperately missed your old life.

“y/n? hello?” colby said, pulling you from your thoughts of your emotions.

“uh- yeah. i mean no, but it’s not like bad. it’s not amazing either- but- i don’t know really.” you answered, best you could.

“what’s up? just talk to me, you’re good.”

“i just really fucking miss my life before all of this, whenever i just sat and edited your guys’ videos for hours a day. when we were younger down at the parks. whenever we would be together all of the time. all of you even. obviously you more- but whatever i just miss it all.”

“i don’t want to live this life anymore” you whispered, focusing your eyes on a bottle of xanax for a spilt second.

colby felt a more of a relief than he did sympathy in that moment. you were finally opening up to him after almost a year and a half. but he also couldn't help feel helpless for you.

“i’m sorry, but there’s definitely a way to balance everything. i know you have so much going on, but you’ve gotta be able to take yourself back and out of certain situations. standing up for yourself” colby said, still in disbelief he was having this conversation.

"i know but it's just after my first album it's been absolutely nonstop, i haven't had longer than a day to just do nothing. i don't know when that's gonna end."

"you have more people who want to help you than those who want to see you fail. you cant keep these things hidden, it doesn't help anyone."

"i'm sorry" you said

"nothing that's happened to you is your fault, don't be sorry for your emotions. especially with me, we're way past that point."

you weren’t sure if that was something you needed to hear, or if it was just because colby was saying it, but it encouraged you to make a spur of the moment decision.

“what if you came to new york for my show tomorrow? if you have nothing going on obviously, i’d pay for everything. and if you want too.”

colby’s jaw dropped even though you couldn’t see it. he didn’t have anything going on for the next four days, and couldn’t have been more thankful not too.

“i have nothing going on the next four days actually”

“are you serious? please say you’ll come.”

“of course i will!”

you immediately opened you laptop and looked at flights from lax to jfk, your heart breathing through your chest.

“ do you think you can be ready in five hours?” you asked him, wanting to suddenly see him extremely badly.

“are you kidding? yeah i can be, definitely. whatever you want.”

as the word ‘yeah’ came out of his mouth you booked the tickets as fast as you could, sending him the email confirmation. you couldn’t really process what you had just done fully. you also didn’t realize it at the moment but you had still had his email perfectly memorized.

“i just sent you the email, i’m so excited fuck!”

“i’m really excited to see you y/n. i feel i’ve only seen you on screens the last year.”

colby saying that so nonchalantly made you more upset that you would've liked to feel, but it had almost been an hour since he first called and you were very tired.

“i’m gonna try to sleep before you come, i’ll text you in a few hours. actually wait- do you have a new cell? it showed up no caller id.”

“it’s the same as it’s always been, not sure why. but okay get some rest, i’ll see you soon.”

“see you soon” you said before hanging up the call.

you stood up and walked over to the counter that the bottle of xanax held, tearing up staring at the bottle. you proceeded to take them into the bathroom and flush them all down the toilet before going back to bed.

all you could think about was you fully laid down was how you were pretty sure colby had just saved your life.

colby couldn't have been more relieved as he called sam letting him know he'd be in new york for the weekend.

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asgardwinter · 3 years

Note

This is totally no pressure and I completely understand if you don't want to write it or aren't taking requests right now (then just ignore this), but I'd love to your take on the "shows up at their enemies door" prompt from that prompt list. It can be a villain of your choosing or maybe it's a hero and villain!Reader. Anyways ily and your writing! 💖

i loved this request!! i decided to go with villain!Reader (somehow inspired a bit by yelena's role on the hawkeye series as a hitwoman and all) because this is something i've been meaning to write for quite some time... hope you like it, Mar! <3

White Flag

summary | The last thing you expected that night was for Kate Bishop to be on your doorstep.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

pairing | Kate Bishop x Villain!Reader

warnings | angsty, a tiny bit of fluff, sort of an open ending, Kate refers to the reader as “bad guy” but in that generical way (i might have listened to billie eilish a bit, okay?), the reader is not a good person but they’re certainly enchanted by Kate (i can’t blame them…), probably too much mentions of killing people (nothing graphic but y'all know that reader is kind of a mercenary)

word count | 1,2k (i give up on writing blurbs)

author’s note | HERE WE GO!!! i’m so excited, i had this idea since i first read the request but i couldn’t find time to write so spent two weeks writing it in my head hehe (i missed writing for kate SO MUCH!!)

prompt: "shows up at their enemies door" from the prompts that hit in all the right places list

join the taglist!

There were only three firm knocks.

The first one already got you worried.

No one knocked on your door, no one knew where you lived. Except for maybe one close relative…No, that wasn’t true, you made sure you had no one around you.

You grabbed the gun hidden on the below your coffee table’s top, loading it just in case things went sideways. The steps you took towards the door were feather-like, making you invisible like you always were, like you were trained to be.

Lookin through the peephole was enough to surprise you, not to calm you down though. What was Kate Bishop doing at your door at midnight?

“Bishop.” You said as you unlocked the door, the gun still in your hand but carefully hidden behind the wood. “What brings you here?”

“I…” She started to talk but the words weren’t there. Kate opened and closed her mouth a bunch of times before saying. “I’m paying you a visit?” She didn’t sound so sure about it. “Needed to check on how my favourite bad guy is going.”

The thing was, you could see how lost Kate looked. The ponytale was more disheveled than normal, bags were starting to appear under her eyes and the nervous energy radiating from her was enough to make you a bit worried about her. Only a bit.

So you did the obvious thing anyone would do when they saw the person they were trying to shoot less than a week ago, you invited her to come inside. And Kate did the most common thing a hero would do when the “villain” would invite you to sit down on the sofa, she went to sit on the arm chair.

You closed the door and decided by not locking it for now, walking to the empty sofa to sit down, not before you carefully placed the gun on your waist. Kate’s eyes widened as she took in you armed just to answer a door.

“Do you really need the gun right now? I thought we had a moment.” Kate said in that always playful tone.

“And I thought I was your favourite bad guy, Bishop.” You said, the small smile appeared in your face before you could even contain it. “What type of bad guy would I be if I went to answer the door to my secret house unarmed?”

“You got me there.” Kate offered you a shy smile and you both sat in silence.

A deeply uncomfortable silence.

What were you doing?

Both of you had no clue.

“Why are you here Kate?” You asked sincerely, the first time you actually used her first name.

It shouldn’t sound as meaningful as it did, as worried as it did.

Kate thought for a couple of minutes, her eyes not reaching yours for a little while. She was already inside your house, sitting in your armchair, what did she have to lose if she told you the truth?

“I’m…lost.” Only those two words carried so much.

It was the first time she looked directly in your eyes and for a moment you forgot about the context.

You decided that for the next hour you’d forget about everything. How you were hired to kill Kate at one command from Fisk, a threat to Eleanor Bishop, to show her there was no way out and if she even tried he’d bring her daughter in the field. How you happen to have her on at the range of your gun everyday even if you felt terrible for it, even if since the first time you pointed the gun to her you knew you weren’t going to take the shot. Feelings and memories were hidden and you sat there, ready to listen to what she had to say.

As a gesture of peace you took the gun from your waistband and secured it back under the table. Standing there unarmed pretending you both trusted each other.

Looking from a certain point, Kate did trust you for that short hour and you did trust her back.

“I just got my mother arrested. On Christmas.” She whispered. “That does things to people.”

“It was the heroic thing to do.” You said almost automatically.

“Not the right one?”

“I don’t think I’m in the position of telling you what’s right and what’s wrong.” You tried to bring some light to the mood. What was done was done.

“A lot of people don’t go to jail and change.” Kate continued it.

“Well some of us go and still don’t change. It’s not a recipe, not a rule.” You almost cut her mid sentence. “It takes some guts to admit what you do is wrong and a whole other lot to stop doing it.”

“Why continue doing it if you know it’s wrong?”

“It’s the only thing some people know.” You answered it quickly, but that was the easy answer. “It’s easier too. Just that old thing about inertia, about how it takes some different force to pull you out of the tracks.”

“What could be that force?”

You laughed dryly at the hope in her voice. “You know what happened when I took the job that brought us together?” The job I could end up killing you. “I didn’t know who you were. I took it because Fisk pays a lot and I never had trouble with business with him. When I learnt you were only a twenty-two year old college student I still carried on because I was afraid to step down on someone like Fisk. I carried on to save my skin. Some people fall back to that even after there was a force.”

You wouldn’t mention to Kate that you hadn’t taken not even one job after everything that went on with her.

“You didn’t shoot me though.” Kate pointed out.

“No one asked me to.”

“I know you wouldn’t shoot me.” Kate sounded so sure in contrast with minutes earlier.

You looked at her in disbelief, she had the nerve to show up at your door, vent about her despair and offer some faith in you?

“Not even I know if I would.” It was your turn to whisper.

“Someone told me the best shot they ever took was the one they didn’t take.” She got your attention with that.

The words hit deep in you and you did your best to hide it. That unexpected encounter didn’t go the way you saw in the beginning. What was Kate doing to you?

“And besides, how many twenty-two year old archers have you taken down?”

You laughed hard at that question. “You have a point.” You told her.

Both of you stayed there for one more minute, the way your eyes locked with each other only a second longer made something awake inside you. Something you completely buried inside and ignored.

“Kate Bishop, you’re something else.” You whispered and she laughed too.

“Only for my favourite bad guy.”

That line made you smile more than it should, but as you sat there it didn’t feel wrong for the first time in some years.

“You’re not lost Kate.” You said to her as she left your apartment.

Kate nodded at you before turning around and following down the hall.

In the end she was probably your favourite hero.

Taglists:

Everything: @writing-for-marvel @ju5tyna20

Kate Bishop: @lovelyy-moonlight @notmesimpingforanothabritishlad @lovebyceleste @hallecarey1 @haeva

#kate bishop x you #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop #kate bishop imagine #marvel x reader #kate bishop x gender neutral reader #kate bishop x gn!reader #gn!reader

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sweet-babyrose · 2 years

Text

Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso blurb

inspired by the bird app meltdown that occurred last night

🌵

They'd been home for less than 24 hours from national team camp. Jenni had played her best game in a while and was in desperate need of a recovery session. When she'd left that morning to go to Logik Clinic, Alexia had been playing with Nala and Andy and had plans to go meet a friend for lunch.

When Jenni got back to the apartment a few hours later, she expected to find the place empty. Instead, she found Alexia on the couch, scrolling through her phone, clearly annoyed by whatever she was looking at. Jenni peeked over her shoulder, thinking she would see some new article about the way the team was playing.

She had not expected to see a picture of herself with Esther on Alexia's screen.

Jenni leaned down and kissed the top of Alexia's head. "Babe, what are you doing?"

"Nothing. Just scrolling." Alexia made no attempt to hide what she was doing or to even stop.

"Why are you wasting your time on that?" Jenni desperately wished she could erase all those photos from the internet. Alexia had warned her so many times that what she posted on the internet would stay there forever. Why hadn't she listened to her? And now Alexia had to have the constant reminder sent to her by millions of fans. Neither of them would ever understand some fans needs to tag Alexia in any of those photos.

Alexia merely shrugged. But she kept scrolling. Jenni sat on the couch next to her and was about to pull the phone from her hand when Alexia suddenly said, “I don’t get it. Why do they still think you’re with her?” The frown on her face continued to grow as she scrolled through another post about Jenni’s “child bride.” “Even after Leila’s birthday! You were literally sitting in my lap that night!”

Jenni studied her girlfriend’s face. She was upset, clearly. But not about Esther being a rebound. “You’re jealous.”

“You’ve made it so obvious that you’re not together anymore,” Alexia said, groaning. “Why don’t they get it?”

"Why didn't you just tell me that this upsets you? I can fix that." Jenni took her phone out of her pocket, unlocking it, and opening Instagram. She pressed a few buttons before locking the phone and tossing it on the couch. “Okay. There. Problem solved. The internet will just think I’m having a meltdown about breaking up with her.”

“What’d you do?”

“I unfollowed her on Instagram.”

“What?” Alexia reached for Jenni's phone.

“There’s only one woman I need to believe me when I say that Esther and I are done. That’s you. But if you need the world to have confirmation that I’m done with her, I’ll give that to you.”

Alexia leaned over, wrapping her arms around Jenni’s neck. Jenni pulled her closer, nudging Alexia until she moved onto her lap.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“More than the child bride?”

“Ale,” Jenni groaned, dropping her head to Alexia’s shoulder. She held her for a minute, trying to figure out the right words to comfort her girlfriend. “There will never be anyone that I want the way I want you. I was hurt as hell when we fought. I felt abandoned. And I turned to the first person who showed me a little attention. I’ll always be sorry for that, mi amor." Jenni eased back so she could see Alexia. She brushed a few stray hairs back from Alexia’s face. "But I want you. I love you. Always only you.”

"I think," Alexia said, cupping Jenni's face in her hands, "I'm going to need about a million kisses to erase that image of you and her out of my brain." She smiled softly, looking down at her love.

"I can give you two million," Jenni said, before peppering her face with kisses, making Alexia giggle.

"Yes please." Alexia stopped Jenni's wandering lips with her own. "I love you, too. You're it for me, too."

#Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso #Alexia Putellas imagine #Jenni Hermoso imagine #blurb #woso blurb #woso imagine #futfem imagine #espwnt imagine #jenni hermoso #alexia putellas #Alexia putellas x Jenni Hermoso imagine #Alexia Jenni fic

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formenis · 3 years

Note

Can you do a oneshot of L Lawliet where he is in a secret relationship with Light's twin sister and she finds out she is pregnant so she shows up at Task Force to tell L and just announces it to the whole task force but its L who announces he is the father.

OML I'm so sorry for the delay, Anon-san 😭😭

Lately I'm feeling so overwhelmed and in the dumps that I lost any sort of inspiration. I hope you like it thou.

TITLE: NEWS

pairing: L x Yagami!fem!pregnant!reader

warning: none.

«See you later mom»

«Be careful dear. You too Light»

«Yeah bye mom»

And the door was softly closed after that answer. The two Yagami twins, Y/N and Light, always left home earlier than their sister Sayu. Light had to take the train for the Daikoku Private Academy while Y/N was a last year high school student at the Gamou Prep Academy, where her twin brother attended supplemental classes in the afternoon. Actually, it was what her family knew. The reality was a lot different.

Despite the two twins had the same age, the same skills and the same perfect school report, Y/N had that extra oomph that Light hadn't. It was thanks to this oomph that ensured her a special, secret job. She was noticed by no less than the greatest detective in the world, L.

Y/N Yagami had everything L needed: intellect, slyness, excellent rhetoric. At first, they had a simple working relationship made of mutual respect and esteem. But as time passed those feelings changed.

Initially Y/N felt strange: L was this mysterious detective with an extraordinary mind and skills, she never saw him in person. She had the impression that what she felt for him was wrong: what if L didn't exist? Y/N was so curious about him that one of their online meetings, she couldn’t wait to ask him thatquestion.

«L, can I ask you something?»

« 𝚈𝚎𝚜»

«Why did you decide not to show yourself? Can you describe yourself to me, please?»

A long pause followed her question. Y/N didn’t know what to say (or to do). She had the feeling she crossed the threshold.

«𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝙻 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝙻 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛»

Such an arrogant person. Y/N expected an answer like that. So she gave up with her wish to see her crush' face.

Sometime later, however, the Yagami girl met someone. A pale, tall young man with a simple white shirt and faded jeans; his hair was moved by the wind and they seemed messy yet rather silky. He was standing there, at the top of the Tokyo Train Station's stairs, staring intensely at her, few steps higher than the girl. This man was blocking the way and Y/N was in a rush.

«Excuse me, I have to-»

«You're Y/N Yagami?» he immediately interrupted her and in the meantime he hid his hands in the pockets of that faded jeans.

«Who wants to know it?» Y/N replied defensive. Unlike Light, Y/N had good skills in many martial arts and she was ready to kick his ass, just in case.

«Me»

Y/N hadn’t the idea that in front of her there was L himself. He introduced himself as Ryuzaki but, for some reason, she couldn’t believe him. For her, it was like he had a good answer for everything as if he planned every single (and possible) question from the Yagami girl. That reminded her of…L. Everything about him reminded her of the detective.

Day after day this Ryuzaki started to appear more and more often in her life: at the train station, on her way home or after school. He told her he was studying for the entrance exam at the To-Oh University, that was why the two of them were seeing each other that often.

«I see, what do you want to study?»

«Criminology»

Y/N and Ryuzaki created a strange bond between them. The Yagami twin felt so at ease with him despite his particular (and rather unique) behaviour: she didn’t mind about the large amount of sugar he ate or the sitting position he took. He was so smart and brilliant…once again she thought about L.

It seemed like that Ryuzaki appreciated Y/N's presence too. He loved listening to her or analyse every single feature of her figure. She would find him staring at her such intensity that she would look away.

Y/N, however, had so much in her mind. She was so convinced that Ryuzaki and L were the same person that she felt so anxious around him. She had to know the truth.

«Ryuzaki, can you tell me something?»

«What is it, Y/N-san?»

«Are you L?»

The two of them were waiting for the train and Ryuzaki was standing (or "slouching" actually) right beside her. His dark hair covered the face and Y/N couldn’t tell what he was feeling or thinking. She was afraid that she crossed the threshold.

Ryuzaki smirked and sighed through the nose as if he laughed silently. Then he turned to look at her. «Yes»

He kept staring at her while Y/N got pale and returned the stare with wide E/C eyes. So she was right…he was L. The real L. She couldn’t believe that this man…with faded jeans and a simple white shirt…was L. The same L she started to love.

That was how their story began.

───────◇───────

Now Light was going to finish his last year of school together with his twin sister Y/N but something else what happening outside the Yagami household: Kira.

This person took the role of judge, jury and executioner of the criminal world not only in Japan. Kira was such a disgusting, immoral human being, Y/N hated him. Nobody had the right to play with other's life regardless of their police record. Light, however, didn't agree with his sister.

«I don't understand your point, N/N. The world would be a better place without criminals, you have to realise that»

«Of course it would be a better place without them, Light. But it's not the right method!»

«And what would be "the right method"?» Light asked her making air quotes with his fingers.

«Uhh…I don't know maybe putting them before a judge?» Y/N simply replied. «Kira is not the solution, Light»

Her brother was so different lately. Since this Kira appeared Light started to act strange, Y/N was the first to notice it. Not even her mother, father and Sayu perceived it.

Y/N was feeling strange too actually. After Ryuzaki's "confession" about his identity the two of them admitted their respective feelings. Y/N was so happy that Ryuzaki felt the same as her, she was so happy. Sachiko noticed it and asked her if her happiness was due to a boy but Y/N didn’t give her a proper answer.

Ryuzaki was investigating about Kira and he booked a suite at the Imperial Hotel and Y/N would pay him a visit from time to time. They talked, played, ate and even made love in that room. And it was since one of those times that Y/N started to feel weird.

«Let's not talk about it, alright Light?»

«Fine» her twin shrugged and kept walking home together. After a while they crossed a konbini, a Japanese convenience store.

«Wait Light, I have to buy something»

«Alright, I'll wait you here»

And Y/N ran inside the shop while Light started to read a book outside. She had to buy few things: a new set of pencils, chips and…a pregnancy test. Yes, a pregnancy test.

She had all the symptoms: swollen breasts, nausea, fatigue. And the fact that she missed the last period was a sort of final proof. But she wanted to be sure.

Once she payed everything Y/N left the shop and kept walking home with Light. He was looking suspiciously at her but he said nothing.

> TIME SKIP <

«Positive…it's positive» Y/N repeated in a whisper while looking at her pregnancy test. Her E/C eyes were still glued to the test when she heard someone knocking at the door.

«Y/N! I need the bathroom!»

«Me too!»

Light and Sayu were staying right outside the door, Y/N hoped they didn’t hear what she said before. She hid the test in the pockets of her jeans and left the bathroom.

«Sorry» and she ran downstairs. Light, once again, looked at her with clear suspicious and raised an eyebrow. Sayu took advantage of this moment to lock herself in the bathroom.

«Sayu! I have to go with dad, leave the bathroom!»

In the meantime, Y/N already left the house and was literally running towards the Imperial Hotel, where Ryuzaki had his room (and where the Task-force met L for the first time). He had to know it.

About ten minutes later Y/N arrived at the hotel and quickly went to Ryuzaki's suite. She was bouncing off the walls for the excitement.

«Ryuzaki!» she spread the door open and ran inside. She quickly reached him and made him turn towards her.

«What is it Y/N-chan?» he asked calmly.

«I have to tell you something!»

«And what would it be?»

«I'm pregnant!» she said smiling. It, however, faded quickly when she saw Ryuzaki's lack of reaction to that news. Was he…disappointe-

«What?! Are you serious Miss Y/N?» the young voice of Matsuda echoed in the room making Y/N distract from the man in front of her.

The Yagami girl noticed that her father's entire Task-Force was working in the same room as L and she didn’t notice them when she entered the suite. Excitement was replaced by fear.

«Uhm…well…»

«Congratulations!» Matsuda got up and walked closer to her with a kind smile on his young face. That smile cheered her up a little.

«Thank you Matsuda-san»

The rest of the Task-force congratulated to her too, they were all so happy about that news. The only one who didn’t say anything was L, the father.

Aizawa started to give Y/N some "parental" advices when L's suite room opened again revealing Soichiro and Light at the doorstep. Y/N didn’t notice it immediately and she couldn’t stop Matsuda from rushing towards his boss to give him that important announcement.

«Boss, did you know it?»

«What is it Matsuda?»

«Miss Y/N is pregnant!»

Silence.

Silence of a grave, to be precise.

Nobody dared to speak, to move, to breathe. It seemed only Matsuda wasn’t feeling that heavy atmosphere.

At those words Soichiro walked towards his daughter and placed his strong hands on her shoulders.

«Y/N, is it true?»

She gulped and swallowed hard. «Yes dad, Matsuda-san is right» her voice showed no fear, no embarrassment, no shame. Even if her family didn’t agree, she wasn’t going to give up that easily.

«Who is the father? Someone assaulted you?» he immediately asked sounding rather worried and serious. Y/N was going to answer when she heard some sort of mumbling from behind, where L was sitting.

«Did you say something, Ryuzaki?» asked Soichiro.

«I said, Yagami-san…» he took an ice-cream sandwich and divided it in two. «I am the proud father» he turned towards the policeman and licked the vanilla cream without looking away from the man.

Soichiro couldn’t see her but Y/N was smiling widely at Ryuzaki who smiled back for a mere second before

#death note #death note l #l x reader #l lawilet #female reader #l x you #l x y/n #yagami reader #ryuzaki #ryuzaki x reader #ryuzaki death note #ryuzaki lawliet #pregnant reader

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

Crushing - Harry Styles

a/n: just a little something that was inspired by a tiktok and @pastequeharry !

pairing: Harry X Famous!Reader

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

“Welcome back, I hope has everyone returned from our little break because we are playing a fun little game with Y/N, who by the way won a Grammy award for best new artist this weekend, so congratulations on that!”

Ellen smiles at you widely as she claps along with the audience and you’re just smiling shyly, still not quite used to the sound of it.

“Thank you,” you nod looking around.

“Okay, we are going to play a round of who’d you rather. Are you familiar with the game?” she asks you.

“Yes, I’ve seen others play it before.”

“Great. For those who don’t know the game, two people will show up on the screen and Y/N will have to choose one. Whoever she chooses will come with us to the next round and at the end we’ll know who is her ultimate crush.”

“Ah man,” you huff, feeling a little nervous about who they are gonna show you and the audience laughs at your reaction as your fingers dig into the armrest of the armchair you’re sitting comfortably in.

“Are you ready?” Ellen questions with a smile that tells you just how much she is enjoying this.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be, but let’s get started,” you chuckle nervously.

“Okay, let’s see our first pair,” she starts and two pictures show up on the big screen and on the smaller one at the front of the stage so you don’t have to crane your neck. “So we have Zendaya and Tom Holland. Who are you choosing?”

“You really had to start with two of my biggest Marvel crushes?!” you whine and the audience starts laughing again as you chew on your bottom lip, trying to decide. “I love them both, but I’m gonna have to go with Zendaya, because in height, we would be better. I’m sorry Tom, I still love you!” you declare, looking around all cameras, hoping they all got your confession.

“Alright. So now we’ll keep Zendaya and move on to the next person, who is… Harry Styles. Zendaya or Harry Styles?”

The blood rushes out of your face as you see a picture of Harry, memories of the two of you meeting at the award show in the weekend flooding back to your mind. Harry has been a crush of yours since probably forever. You’ve been a fan of his since his One Direction days and your career started to take off sometime around the time he started his solo career, only difference is that it took you a little longer to earn yourself a name in the industry. But this weekend you finally met him for the first time, in real life, without you just watching him on the stage with four other men.

You spotted him at the area that led to the red carpet, he was about to step out when his eyes laid on you and though he was wearing a mask, you still knew he was smiling from the little wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. Your breath caught in your throat, stopping in your track as you were holding up your gown so you wouldn’t trip and fall with all the cameras around.

“Y/N! Hi!” he greeted you stepping closer, as if the two of you were old friends.

“Hi!” you managed to speak up, feeling completely starstruck.

“Love the gown! You look wonderful!” he complimented you and you could feel your cheeks heating up so fast.

“Oh, thank you, but I think you’re stealing the show with the boas,” you chuckled making him laugh as well.

“Thank you. Congrats on the nomination, I really hope you win by the way.”

“You do?”

“Of course. Listened to the album, it’s really good,” he nodded and your heart skipped a beat. Harry Styles listened to your album and he liked it? This must be Heaven, but when did you die?

“Thank you so much! I hope you win too, though your chances are better with your three nominations,” you joked making him laugh again.

“Yeah, just a little,” he nodded. “Here, let me help you.” He offered you his arm helping you step up the few steps that lead to the area where the red carpet photos were taken and you were thankful for the help, though you could already hear all the camera’s clicking in your way and you knew the photos would be all over the internet by the next day.

You only met one more time during the evening and you could only congratulate to each other on the wins before you both were snatched away, but you still play your conversation with him in your head before you go to bed in the evening.

“Um, Zendaya is everything but I’m gonna play this game honestly so I’ll choose Harry.”

The audience starts cheering and clapping at the decision as Ellen smirks at you, nodding along.

“No need to be shy, we all have a crush on Harry probably,” she jokes making you laugh. “Okay, next up we have… Harry Styles and The Weeknd.”

“I’m gonna stick to Harry,” you answer probably a little too fast, but if you’re being honest, they can’t show you anyone at this point who would beat Harry.

“Harry stays, next we have Harry and… Florence Pugh.”

“You guys made sure to make it hard for me!” you chuckle staring at the screen. “But I’m still gonna stick to Harry, though I love them both.”

“Alright, for the next round we have Harry Styles and Niall Horan.”

“I’m upset, because as a One Direction fan, I should not be forced to choose between them,” you point at Ellen, giving her a hard look which the audience finds quite hilarious.

“I’m sure you had ranked them before, don’t be shy,” she smirks and you sigh rolling your eyes.

“Okay, no offence to anyone but Harry stays. Sorry Niall, I still love you though,” you add with a smile.

“Harry is in a winning streak, it seems. Okay, let’s see his next opponent. Harry against Chris Evans.”

“Harry,” you answer with a sigh, crossing your legs, knowing well you will not choose anyone over Harry.

“Fast answer, great. Harry Styles or Ariana Grande.”

“Love Ariana, she’s a queen, but Harry,” you answer with a smile, the audience enjoying your obsession over Harry Styles and at this point you are not even trying to hide it.

“Harry Styles or Henry Cavill?”

“Harry,” you answer right away.

Henry’s picture disappears and Harry’s moves to the middle as the game comes to its end.

“Seems like we have a winner here. Harry Styles beat everyone!” Ellen chuckles as you glance at the big screen, blushing a little, but you are hoping your makeup is covering it well.

“You said it yourself, everyone has a crush on him,” you shrug, trying to play it cool.

“Yes, but not everyone was helped out by him,” she smirks as a photo of the two of you appears on the screen from last weekend and you cover your face with your hands as the audience goes wild.

“He is a gentleman,” you sigh dreamily.

“He really is and I have to say that the two of you look great together.”

“Oh stop it,” you chuckle, playing it over a little, just to make it less obvious how giddy even the thought makes you.

“Well, now we know that he is your number one choice, hopefully he’ll take the next step,” Ellen chuckles before moving on and asking you a few more questions as part of your appearance on the show.

Weeks go by and you kind of forget about the whole interview. It blows up the next few days, but nothing really happens, people just get excited that you are crushing on Harry just like everyone else, but it dies down pretty quickly.

You barely recovered from your Grammy win and yet you are already marching towards another milestone in your career. None other than Gucci asked you to be part of their new campaign in an amazing photoshoot and you just couldn’t say no, not that you ever even thought about it. After some online meetings and sending emails back and forth the first fitting’s day has finally arrived and you are buzzing!

Heading down to the showroom to go over every outfit they want you to wear for the photos, you can’t wipe the excited grin off your face. Growing up you could only dream about owning anything Gucci, now you are going to be promoting them so it truly is a dream come true.

Arriving you are walked into the showroom that is now filled with racks of clothes and there’s a podium with three mirrors surrounding it for the fitting.

“Y/N! Hi! So nice to finally meet you after all the emails and calls!” Nancy, the creative director of the campaign greets you.

“Nice to meet you too!”

“We are in a little bit of delay, I’m very sorry about that, but we can start in about ten minutes, if that’s alright with you.”

“Oh, no worries. I’m free all day,” you assure her before she thanks your patience and runs off to finish off whatever she was doing before.

Wandering around you take a look at the beautiful clothes on the racks, blown by basically everything you see and you can’t wait to wear the outfits that were meant for you. In the back of the room, a part is closed off for a changing area and you hear the door opening as Nancy walks out first, talking to someone following her behind and when you see the person, you freeze.

Harry Styles walks out, wearing a just a shirt and jeans, looking very casual but still, unbelievably hot. The man could wear a potato sack and still look better than any other men.

“Thank you so much,” he smiles at Nancy before his eyes lay on you, a wide smirk tugging on his lips in realization. “So nice to see a familiar face!” he beams, walking closer before he pulls you in for a short hug that catches you by surprise, but also warms your chest.

“Hi, didn’t expect to see you here, though you are kind of one with the brand at this point,” you tease him making him laugh.

“I am, yeah. I heard that you would be featured in the campaign as well. Amazing choice,” he smirks, glancing over at Nancy who smiles proudly, clearly agreeing with him.

“Y/N, I’ll get the changing room ready for you and we can start in five, alright?” Nancy informs you.

“Yeah, thank you!” You nod in her way and she is already off to do the work, leaving you and Harry alone.

“So, I learned some interesting information the other day,” he hums with a serious face and he got you curious about what it could be.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, you know, I was watching The Ellen Show and you were on, playing a little game.”

“Oh my God,” you breathe out, already feeling the heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks. Harry smirks down at you, clearly enjoying that he got you so nervous and embarrassed of what happened.

“I wish I knew about your little crush earlier!” he teases you, making your groan.

“And why is that? So you could pull my leg at the Grammy’s when I was already shitting my pants?”

Harry lets out a chuckle shaking his head as he hides his hands in his pockets, his eyes running up and down your figure before they meet with your gaze again.

“No. Because then I wouldn’t have talked myself down from asking for your number.”

You can’t help the stunned reaction that takes over your face at his blunt flirting, your lips part as your eyebrows shoot up while Harry just stares back at you with a sly smirk on his deliciously pink lips.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, but now that I know that you are crushing on me just like I’m crushing on you, I think it’s time to make the first step. So…” he pulls his phone out and hands it over to you and continues while you type your number in. “I’m not just asking for your number, but I happened to hear that you have nothing else planned for the day, is that true?”

“It is,” you nod, feeling out of breath as you hand him back his phone, your number saved in his contacts.

“Then how about grabbing lunch after your fitting? I happen to have nothing today as well, we should take advantage of it,” he suggests and you can’t push your stunned smile down.

“Sounds good,” you nod, biting into your bottom lip.

“Great. I’ll run some errands while you are here and I’ll be back in about an hour.”

“You could stay here if you want, I don’t mind it,” you tell him, feeling like he is only leaving because he doesn’t want to intrude.

“I would love to, but I really want to see the final outcome of the campaign and not spoil it for myself,” he smirks making you chuckle.

“Alright. Then see you in an hour.”

“Yeah,” he nods with a boyish smirk before turning around and walking out of the showroom.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Fake Fiancée

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer is left waiting at a bar when he gets in some trouble, and meets a woman who offers to help him out in more ways than one.

Category: SMUT (18+)

Warnings: Language, virgin!Spencer, car sex/exhibitionism, handjob, brief mention of edging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradation kink, minor voyeurism kink, dirty talk (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Word Count: 7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hi, there!! Most of you have been extremely excited about this one since I shared the idea for it a few weeks ago, and so I’m glad to finally get to release it for you!! There’s a playlist here for you to check out if you’d like some ~vibes~ and over on @mercy-midnight I shared a few visual inspirations last night, so check them out if you want! Thank you for all your enthusiasm over this fic, I hope it lives up to your expectations!! 🥰

***

I've always loved the rain.

And it was definitely going to rain soon. How soon, I wasn't entirely sure, but as I made my way into the bar, taking one final breath of fresh air before it would inevitably be taken over by alcohol, greasy food, and way too much cologne, I could smell it. Cool and fresh, waiting to serve as some type of fresh start, to wash away all the hard shit and give me a clean slate.

The gaudy ring on my finger was one of those hard things I wished I could wash away. At least, it had been for a long time. Patrick never asked for it back after he left, and I'd had every intention of pawning it off, but I started noticing—after a few nights out where I'd tried to get hammered and nailed—that it scared everybody off.

I guess no one wanted to fuck a married woman—and a drunk married woman at that. Even if she technically wasn't even married anymore. Which I found all particularly odd considering my experience with men in the past has proved to provide me with extremely low standards.

It'd turned out to be a blessing in disguise, though. Sure, it might have taken me longer to completely get over Patrick and the mess he left me, but rather than losing myself in the lonely company of strangers, I forced myself to reflect and move on, to take each day in stride and take time for myself. Could I have just taken the ring off and gotten laid? Absolutely. But being on my own like that was the wakeup call I didn't know I'd needed.

And now, almost a year later, the ring sat tucked away in my jewelry box until I wanted it— usually when I knew I was going to the bar with every intention of getting hammered and not nailed. There were the occasional persistent players, but they were few and far in between, and if all else failed I resorted to smiling sweetly at them and lying, saying my "husband" was a cop. That shut them up pretty quickly, and by that point I was ready to leave anyway.

Like I said, blessing in disguise.

After a long day at work being called in on a Saturday, a few drinks at Waterson's sounded like a perfect way to end the night. I'd gone home, showered, ate dinner, and got dressed before taking a walk down the block and crossing the near-packed parking lot. The air was quite muggy despite it only being around forty degrees, which was the first indicator of rain. The second was the smell, of course, which I'd always been fond of, and the cobbled pavement had some type of haze around it that served as the final confirmation of my theory.

Honestly, I was hoping to get caught in the rain on my way home. I couldn't tell you why, exactly, just that the idea of walking home in the rain gave me the most excitement I'd felt in a long time. Life was great at the moment, of course, but between work and my less than ideal commute there on the train every day, I think I was due for a little excitement.

That excitement, naturally, started once I opened the door to the bar, taking a step inside and quickly being smacked in the face with the smell of fried everything. A small smile crossed my lips as I went in further, jumbled conversations, glasses clinking, and music humming softly behind the sharp snaps of pool balls being shot forward with the cue completing the picture.

I walked up to the bar to find Carla standing behind it, and I smiled at her. "I didn't know you were working Saturday," I called to her as I approached.

The brunette looked over at me and beamed, her teeth as perfect as ever. "Y/N, I didn't know you came in on Saturdays! How've you been?"

I took a seat at one of the barstools, nodding as I set my wallet and my phone down. "Alright... Work's a bitch, of course, but when is it not?"

"Yeah, I hear that. There's only so much relentless flirting I can take." We shared a good laugh at that before she nodded. "What can I get you?"

"A beer?"

"You got it."

I turned around then, surveying tonight's crowd. Waterson's was decently sized— definitely not as big or popular as the other bars in the city, but it got enough traction on the weekends, and even on Tuesdays when they had open mics. As my eyes wandered, they passed over all kinds of people. Women in tight clothes and men all over them, large groups of friends over by the pool tables who were betting and yelling with large smiles on their faces, old men by themselves in some of the tucked away corners... Anyone you could think of, name it and they were there.

One scene in particular caught my eye, though, and I thought about leaving it alone, but my gut twisted when I noticed how obviously uncomfortable the person was and how there was no one around who seemed to care enough to say or do anything.

Sitting alone at a rather large table was a guy who... no offense to him or anything, but he didn't look like he belonged here, not alone anyway. With a formal button-down short sleeve, meek stature, and a pair of glasses sitting atop his nose, he was an easy target for the two men that were towering over him as he sat, eyes averting them while they conversed. It could have been nothing, but occasionally the man in the glasses would flinch or look around nervously like he was waiting to be rescued.

Not that I wanted to rescue anyone or anything tonight. But he reminded me of someone being stood up, and from experience I knew how embarrassing that was, especially in a space crowded with other people who could obviously see what was happening to you. I hated Patrick for standing me up time and time again, and it wasn't until this waitress once intervened and offered some advice that I started to understand just how fucked up it was. That didn't make it hurt any less, of course, when he inevitably said he was moving across the country and dropped divorce papers on my desk at work, but still... The talk gave me some clarity.

Whether or not this man was actually being stood up or not, it was obvious that he was uncomfortable, and I figured he could use some help.

And I had just the plan.

I watched the scene until Carla came back with my beer, at which point I turned to her with a smile and got money from my wallet.

"Hey, could I get another?"

***

"No, you specifically told me 8pm..."

"I'm pretty sure I told you 9..."

I sighed, glancing around briefly at everyone and everything around me before speaking again, almost yelling into the speaker over all the noise. "Maybe you meant 9, but you told me 8, so I'm here. Alone!"

"Hey, look, I'm sorry, Kid, alright? But we're not gonna be there until 9, so... keep yourself busy until then? Let loose, have a couple drinks..."

I could hear the smirk in Derek's voice just as easily as I could picture it in my head as I sighed out a, "Fine," and hung up. The whole situation significantly raised my blood pressure, not to mention my anxiety— It wasn't hard to see that I stood out here. Bars were most definitely not my scene, and the only reason I'd agreed to go in the first place was so that I could try something new. Expand my horizons, as Penelope had told me right before I caved and agreed to accompany her and Derek on their little outing. I'd even drove my car here, a move I rarely made, as a start.

But now I was sitting alone at a booth, a glass of water in front of me and this twisting sensation in my gut that usually came to me when I didn't know what was going to happen.

I leaned back in my seat and sighed, staring down the glass of water as my cellphone tumbled around between my hands. All I had to do was wait here for an hour and remind myself over and over that eventually I'd be with people that I knew, people that I felt comfortable around. Only an hour.

One hour...

One hour, one hour, one hour... It was a chant in my head that went through different pitches and speeds until it was interrupted by a loud, "Hey, you!"

It could have been for anyone, but it was right next to me, and I knew when I wasn't wanted somewhere.

Sure enough, I turned my head to see a rather large man, a football player-type if I had to guess, wearing a grey tee shirt that hugged every muscle. There was a beer in his hands, and someone next to him, another man slightly shorter but still definitely athletic, held what looked to be a glass of hard liquor. By the looks on their faces, it was obvious that they were looking for a fight.

And it was also obvious that I was the easiest target in the whole bar.

One glance at the clock across the room and above their heads told me that I still had 54 minutes until my friends showed up, and that meat I'd either have to give these men whatever they wanted, tell them I was just about to leave, or attempt to pull the "I'm a Federal Agent" card, which I knew would probably get more laughs from them than a simple, "Sorry," and an exit.

I was about to run through every outcome of tonight's events in my head when the bigger guy spoke again, making me jump.

"Hey, m' talking to you!" He was drunk, most likely toeing the line between sobriety and a fist fight if I wasn't careful.

"I—Is there something you need?" I asked, hoping that if I could get this over with quickly, they'd leave me alone and maybe I could get out of here...

He mocked my voice in a way I'd heard more than once while growing up, and though I knew it was childish of him, saying more about him than me, the action got to me more than I cared to admit. Call it intuition, but when a nearly-drunk guy two times your size starts picking on you like a kid and you know he's just looking for a fight, the odds aren't very good when you're someone on the smaller side like me— Federal Agent or not. And he wasn't an unsub. He wasn't someone I could pick apart and just hand over to my team once I pushed back his defenses. If I picked this man apart, he'd likely throw a punch at my face.

Of course, I could get him arrested for assaulting a Federal Agent, but... Obviously I didn't want to get punched in the face.

As soon as his mumbled mockery of my words ended, he punctuated them with his own. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' I need you to find a new place to sulk. Go to the library or somethin'."

His friend laughed beside him like he'd just said the best comeback anyone's ever heard, and that alone almost made me laugh. Though, I knew that might have gotten me into more trouble.

Speaking of, I probably should have just got up to leave. That would have been the perfect time to say, "Okay," get up, and drive home. Sure, Penelope and Derek would have probably given me crap about chickening out, but I'd have avoided getting beat around or ridiculed further by these morons, so it was overall a win, right?

But my stupid mouth didn't agree with what my brain was thinking. "Oh, well, um... I'm waiting up for some friends, they should be here soon—"

"You have friends?" the other guy retorted before I could finish, and he looked proud of himself for it.

"Look, I don't care who you're waitin' on, pal, Right now you're alone, so I want y—"

I didn't see it coming. I couldn't have seen it from a mile away, never dreamed of anything like this happening in a million years. It was certainly not one of the possible outcomes to the night that I'd had in mind. And actually, even if I'd had any time to prepare for it, seeing the woman walk up to us with two beers in her hand and the biggest smile on her face, I still wouldn't have believed what was happening.

She blocked me from the men's line of sight, sitting herself promptly on my lap as she set the drinks down. "Hey, babe, I'm back with our drinks," she chirped, leaning forward and stopping just under my ear, whispering. "If you play along, I can get them to leave you alone..."

She didn't even give me any time to process, quickly pulling back, but not before kissing me firmly on the cheek, leaving my face in a warm flush as she turned back around to survey the men, who I'd quite frankly forgotten about once she pressed her soft lips to my skin and set her hands on my chest.

What the fu—

"Who're you talking with?"

Her voice was so... low and smooth, and it sent a flood of warmth throughout my whole body. If I could have bottled up her voice to drink, I would have. But instead, I settled for the beer she'd brought, grabbing it and chugging down four big gulps even though I hated it.

"You're with this... loser?" the bigger of the two men said, and truthfully it was the first time all night I'd well and truly felt inadequate in front of them. Sure, I knew I'd stood out, that physically I was weaker than them, but I also knew that deep down they were just drunks looking for a fight. I was better than that, regardless of whether or not they'd almost bullied me into leaving the bar.

I didn't have a problem with who I was, but when it came to women, I was pretty much a total wreck. I'd only ever kissed someone once, and much like back then, this woman was absolutely stunning and completely out of my league.

The man was right to be suspicious.

"Excuse me?" my savior retorted, standing up off my lap and removing herself from me completely. I exhaled, trying hard not to look like I was just as shocked as they were as she tore them a new one. "This loser happens to be my fiancée. And I'd watch what insults you're throwing around— You're the ones going around some bar picking on someone you don't know like you're middle schoolers. Now grow the fuck up and back off before I take your drinks and shove them so far up your asses you'll still be able to taste them."

Truthfully I was surprised when they didn't back down. The bigger guy scoffed, his eyes raking the woman up and down with a wicked glint in them. "Y'know, maybe if you ditched him and got fucked by a real man, you wouldn't be such a bitch."

And once again, I was stunned by her ability to quip back quicker than lightening. "Maybe if you weren't such a childish prick, you'd actually get fucked in the first place. Now back. The fuck. Off..."

While I should have been more grateful that her words got them to scoff and turn away, a small, absolutely random part of me wanted to hear her yell at them some more. The longer she did it, the warmer my body got, and the second I started to put together why that was, I chugged more of the beer that was currently resting in my shaky hand.

It was even worse when she turned around to face me again, her radiance and beauty intimidating me in an entirely different way than those men. She wore a simple black dress that complimented her figure extremely well, minimal makeup and jewelry, and her hair was pinned back, showing off her neck and collarbone.

If she hadn't just helped me out, with the way she was looking at me I probably would have wondered if she was... trying to pick me up.

The thought made me all warm again.

"Y—You didn't have to do—"

She stepped forward and sat on my lap again, and I swallowed hard, the beer almost slipping from my hand entirely. "Don't worry about it. You looked uncomfortable, and those boys were absolute meatheads. But they are still here, so we should probably keep up the act, huh?"

I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Either way, I set the beer on the table, though my hand still kept it firmly in my grip as I looked down at the ring on her finger. "I—I wouldn't want to get you in trouble... with your husband..."

"Oh! Uh, funny story," she laughed, leaning in and running her hands over my shoulders, most likely to keep up the façade. "I'm not actually married. Or engaged. I um... I wear this to deter people from trying to take me home."

I actually laughed a little, though my stomach still flipped at her touch and her proximity. "And that... actually works?"

She laughed with me, bringing her hands up to cradle my face as she tilted her head and looked me over. Her pretty, pillow-y soft lips quirked into a smile before her eyes flitted up to mine. She looked like she was entranced, like she was in a dream, and honestly I felt the same way. Because there was no way in actual Hell this was a real thing that was happening to me, right?

"Not always," she answered in a whisper, her face inching closer to mine. She smelled a little like beer, but mostly some type of fruit, probably pear. I didn't eat pears, but maybe I should start...

A gentle tug at the roots of my hair pulled me out of my thoughts, a soft sigh escaping me at the sensation. The woman laughed, brushing her nose against mine for a moment before pulling away and grabbing her beer. "So, since we're engaged, I feel like I should know a little about you. At the very least, your name?"

"O—oh," I laughed nervously, swallowing as she sipped her beer. And I tried not to let it get to me, but the way her lips wrapped gently around the bottle had my mind going a mile a minute, laser focusing on one image in particular of those perfect lips wrapped around something else. I wondered if she could hear the longing in my voice when I whispered my name. "Spencer."

With the beer still in her hand, she lowered it and rested it on my knee as she smiled. "Mmm, and what's my last name going to be?"

The thought of actually marrying this woman infiltrated my thoughts as I answered, louder this time, "Reid."

See hummed again, using the hand that was currently massaging the back of my scalp to gently tug at my hair again. "Y/N Reid... I like the sound of that."

I do, too, is what I thought, and I almost said it, but she started talking again.

"So, Spencer, what do you do?"

I would have gone into my entire spiel, but she was so pretty, and so close, I didn't want to scare her off. So, I simply stated, "I work for the FBI..."

Her eyebrows raised, and I felt her hand slide down my neck and settle on my shoulder. "Really?"

"Y—Yeah, I'm a profiler. We aid law enforcement in catching serial killers."

"So, Agent Reid, huh? That's hot..."

I should have just left it alone, because it was common knowledge that if a woman has any reason to call you hot, you just let it happen, right?

Well, like I said, when it came to women I was a complete wreck.

"A—Actually it's Doctor... I, um... I have 3 PhDs."

As soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them, but the hunger in her eyes deepened and her free hand roamed my shoulder and the front of my chest as she scooted even closer, her mouth coming up right under my jaw. "Mmm, even hotter..."

This time I didn't hold back, my voice audibly whimpering as I sighed out a simple, "Oh..."

Y/N pressed a featherlight kiss to my neck before dragging her lips to my ear again. And I'd been so hyperaware of her proximity to my face that I hadn't even noticed she'd set her beer down and took that hand to rest firmly at my hip, her palm pressing into my lower stomach. I only felt it when that hand moved over, the tips of her fingers hovering just above the buckle of my belt.

"Tell me something, Doctor," she whispered just under my earlobe. I was nothing short of putty in her hands as my brain tried to focus on what she was saying over the more prominent desire to focus on the way she pressed her whole body into mine. She was everywhere, taking up every ounce of air that found its way into my lungs, and I'd never breathed in anything sweeter. "Are you saving yourself for marriage?"

I found the question odd at first, but remembering the circumstances of our fake situation, my body suddenly flared to life at her implications. "N—No..."

Her hips shifted against my lap, and I swear I could have fainted on the spot as she hummed in my ear, "Good."

***

I certainly didn't expect for the night to end the way it did.

I mean, I knew I was going to be wet when I got home, but damn. We hadn't even made it out of the bar before my panties were soaked through at the thought of fucking my fake fiancée. Who worked for the FBI and called himself Doctor...

Not to mention he was fucking dreamy as hell with those honey doe-eyes and pouty lips... And his hands? I had taken one look at the one tightly holding his beer bottle for dear life and instantly went white-hot with desire, visions of them disappearing inside of me swimming in my head.

And then he had to fucking whimper when I called him hot.

Yeah, I definitely didn't expect the night to go how it did, but I wasn't mad about it in the slightest.

After explaining to him that I'd walked, and that my house was only a few blocks away, we decided to just hop in his car. Though, by the time we got there, I think we were both so eager to "get to know each other a little better," as I'd said before we actually left, that we didn't even make it out of the parking space.

Spencer fumbled around with his keys for so long, and he kept dropping them, so I just said fuck it and kissed him when he came up the third time. The sound of his keys hitting the ground for a fourth time excited me almost as much as his the way his hands trembled as they rested on my forearms.

"Pull the seat back?" I mumbled against his mouth, sliding my hands down the sides of his face and over his shoulders.

He let out a strained, "Uh huh," and fumbled around with that too, his urgency and nerves all rolled into one adorable spectacle that had the pit of my stomach in desirable knots. The seat sprung backwards, and I laughed lowly as I climbed over the center console and right into his lap, my dress riding up incredibly high.

The way Spencer looked up at me then, his eyes just as pouty as his lips as they practically sparkled with adoration and need, gave me this feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time— something that filled my bloodstream with fire and made me feel... wanted.

And that's not to say I hadn't slept with people since my divorce, but every time it happened there was hardly any connection besides the obvious need to get off. Here, with Spencer, it was different. And realistically I knew it was most likely the fact that a beautiful woman came to his rescue and pretended to be engaged to him just to get some morons off his back, but... In his eyes I saw this vulnerability that I'd never gotten with another partner. He was open and willing to take advantage of our situation to the fullest extent, sure, but within that was a pure longing to be close to someone after going so long without that connection.

I knew that look so well because it was exactly how I felt. We wanted to have sex with each other, that much was obvious, but less so was the fact that we could feel each others' loneliness. It was a shared bond that ran deeper than sexual desire, and in his eyes in that moment, I knew he could see it in me.

"D—Do you know... what it's like to feel alone, even... when you know you really aren't?" he asked as though he was reading my mind. His voice was soft, so curious and hinted with a little sadness that it made me want to hold him tight and rock him to sleep more than anything.

Still, I nodded. "Mhm... After my husband left I haven't... really been the same. I act like it's okay, and I... I really am better now that he's gone, but I just... I've spent most of my life with him, and now it's like I don't know what's out there beyond... loneliness."

It wasn't the most sexy conversation in the world, but Spencer reached out, his hands less shaky, and ghosted them over my bare arms. He looked up at me with those pretty eyes and let out a relieved breath before he spoke. "I kinda know what you mean... Not to that extent, but... I get it."

Seeing that he was more comfortable with me, I leaned in closer, bringing my fingers to brush the underside of his jaw. "And that's why you make the perfect fiancée."

I felt the laugh leave his lips before I kissed him, soft and steady, and reassured that I was in this for as long as he wanted me to be. Obviously we weren't actually engaged, but the connection that came with a real engagement felt pretty damn close to what we had going on.

And he conveyed that in the way he kissed me back, stronger than he'd been before and most certainly more skilled than he'd let on. His tongue expertly caressed mine with just the right amount of pressure and precision, and it made it easy for me to fall into him. Over time we grew more hungry, but for the most part our dance of mouth and tongue was so slow and intense, it felt like we really had known each other forever.

Eventually though, I did feel him grow harder underneath me, and the feeling kickstarted this more primal urge that caused me to groan into his mouth and rock my hips forward. Spencer's hands rested firmly at my lower back the whole time, though when I moved, I could feel him tense a little, like now that it was actually starting to happen, he was suddenly nervous again. So I brought my hands around my back to grab his wrists, gently sliding them down over my ass as I pressed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip.

"Mmm, your hands are so big," I purred as I kissed my way over his jaw. "They feel so good all over me..." He relaxed a bit at my reassurance, but I wanted to give him more. So I helped him slide his hands underneath my dress, feeling him shiver under me when I assisted him in squeezing them into my skin. "You can touch me however you like," I whispered into his ear. "I'm all yours, Doctor..."

He squeezed my ass then, of his own accord, and I hummed happily before kissing my way back to his mouth, running my hands through his hair.. "Just like that, baby, whatever you want..." He swallowed my words with his tongue, taking a deep breath and inhaling me like I was his only source of air. Respectfully, I gave it all to him, happy to be of service as long as he wanted me— and in that moment, I hoped it would be forever.

Maybe that was cheesy. But he was an excellent kisser... And I was sure there'd be something equally as excellent waiting for me once I got the clearance to get my hands down to his belt.

Thankfully, that clearance came pretty soon. I would have waited as long as he wanted to, but with the way his hips jolted upwards and the needy whine that erupted from his throat at the contact it provided, I knew now was the time.

So I smiled over his lips and then kissed his jaw again, one of my hands staying threaded in his hair while the other snaked down his chest and lower, undoing each button on his shirt as I went down... "Forgive me if I'm feeding into the stereotype by asking you this, Spencer," I said, leaving small bites on his neck in between words. "But have you ever done this before?"

His hands continued kneading my ass as he let out a shaky breath. "N—No. But I've um... I've p—practiced..."

"Hmm, how so?" I wondered, sucking a big hickey into his neck. Meanwhile my hand traced along the waistband of his pants, not quite dipping underneath but teasing the skin just above the material.

"U—Um, well... I regularly t—try to edge... myself, just... I—I want to last longer, and... And I thought it would help..."

God, the images of this man lounging in bed, training himself to last longer in the event that he had sex with someone? I groaned into his neck, taking the initiative to move my hand lower and gently palm him through his pants. "Fuck, that's so hot..."

"Re—really?"

"Mhmm... You really wanna make a girl feel good, huh?"

"Of course..."

"So eager to please?" I cooed, starting to undo his belt. He gripped my ass tighter like he was holding on for dear life, like he'd some how fall out of the car if he didn't hold on to me tight enough. The way his fingers dug into my skin brought me almost the same amount of joy as the sound he made when I finally snuck my hand down the front of his pants and pulled his dick out, gently stroking it and getting a feel for him. "Obedient?"

"Y—Yes, Y/N, please, oh God..." he jumbled out, his hips bucking into my hand. I sighed into his neck, kissing him again as my hand slowly jerked him off.

"Is this how slow you go?" I asked, making sure to memorize how every ridge of him caressed my hand. "Hmm, you wanna draw it out? Feel every ounce of pleasure as you possibly can before you come?"

He didn't answer so much as he let out a loud, whiny breath that sounded very much like a broken, "A-hh."

"I'm clean... On birth control, too... So what do you say we trade this hand in for something a little more... wet..."

Spencer grabbed my underwear then, pulling at the fabric and bucking his hips again. Taking it as a good sign, I adjusted myself so that I could slide them to the side and hover above him. Meanwhile I pecked at his lips and he did the same, meeting me with urgency and anticipation.

And when the head of his dick finally came in contact with my pussy, he threw his head back and exhaled, exposing his neck and the front of his chest, which was lightly glossed over with sweat already. The only source of light in the car came from the neon bar lights and one single streetlight outside, which gave us this dark, aesthetic lighting that only made what we were doing even hotter.

I sank slowly onto him, letting out the longest sigh of my life until he bottomed out in me. "You doin' alright, Doctor?" I asked, pulling his shirt open some more to get a better view of his skin.

He sat his head up a bit and looked at me, breathlessness in his eyes. "F—Fantastic. You f—eel so good..."

I ground my hips in slow circles, nodding down at him with a wicked grin. "Feeling's mutual, babe... You stretch me out so good... It's like we're a perfect match."

The moment I started lifting myself only to sit back down, Spencer shut his eyes, his hands roaming my ass and my thighs as I rode him. It looked like he was concentrating on lasting, and I was going to tell him not to worry about it, but then he opened his eyes and started to speak.

"Will, um... Will you be m—mean to me? Please?"

I halted my movements for a moment, taking in what he just said, but then it came to me immediately. And my discovery turned me on way more than I would have liked to admit.

So I grinned and circled my hips again, leaning forward to practically crawl up the front of his body. My hands tangled in his hair as I studied his face, which was ridden with worry and maybe regret at what he'd just confessed. But I kept circling my hips all the same, clenching myself around him as I spoke against his lips.

"Ohhh, did hearing me insult those guys in the bar turn you on?" I drawled, gently pecking his lips.

"Uh huh," he breathed in response.

I smiled, rocking my hips a little faster and feeling him start to relax again— The worries he had about his desires faded into nothing as I gave into them, feeding them with an open palm and embracing them with great pleasure. "I bet you just couldn't wait for me to take you outside and fuck you after that, huh? For me to treat you like a needy little slut..."

With every word and every quick rock of my hips, Spencer started to pick up his breathing. He leaned back completely and let me take care of him, gave me every green light, every go-ahead... I never got to be like this in bed before, and the fact that it came so naturally sparked this confidence within me that was hard to quell once it got going.

"Is that what you wanted?" I asked him, picking up my pace and bouncing steadily back on his dick. "You were so desperate to get fucked, too, you couldn't even make it out of the parking lot before you gave into me... And now everyone in the bar could see us out here..."

He groaned out at that, his hands digging into the flesh of my thigh, which already burned from straddling him like this, but considering everything, a little burn never hurt anyone.

"Ohh, you like that too, huh? The thought of everyone seeing us?"

"Y—Yes... Y/N, yes... o—oh, fu..."

I took his face into my hands then, grabbing him by the chin and making him look at me. "And what about your friends, huh? What would they think if they showed up and saw their precious Doctor Reid getting fucked like the dirty little slut he is, huh?"

Even though his face was in my hands, he still managed to lean his head back with a loud groan. His hands were now sliding over to my waist, where my dress was bunched up. His nimble fingers slipped just under the fabric and explored the planes of my stomach as I continued riding him, and the feeling of it all coupled with the looks on his face and his reaction—verbal or otherwise—to my words grew the fire simmering in the pit of my stomach.

I wasn't sure how mean to him I could be anymore now, though, considering we were both so close to finishing, and the closer I got the more it became harder to focus on stringing together the perfect words.

Still, I tried the best I could, because it was his first time, and it's what he deserved.

I leaned in and kissed his neck and collarbone, simultaneously riding and grinding for extra stimulation. "You're doing so well, Doctor... Taking this pussy like a good little whore..."

Okay, so it wasn't entirely mean, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.

Though, it seemed to have done the trick, because Spencer drove his hips up to meet mine, panting and whining out my name as his eyes fluttered open and he looked at me with the most desperate look. I almost fell apart right there.

"That's it, baby, take it," I cooed, leaning over and kissing him. One of his hands came out from under my dress to rub tight circles into my clit with an expert thumb, and it started to break me down immediately. "Ohhh, I'm almost there, honey, just like that... Show me what a good little slut you are, baby, c'mon... Just like... that... Ohhh..."

I kissed him hard as I shook and clenched around him, holding still as he drilled his hips upwards into me. His thumb kept up at my clit until I was whimpering into his mouth, and then he just held it there, a few grunts of his own rumbling in his chest before he stilled and filled me with his warmth. I kissed him through it, gently swallowing all his whines and sighs as he gradually came down from his high.

Immediately after we both settled, with his dick still sheathed inside of me and my hands rubbing gently over the planes of his chest as we slowly and softly made out, the unmistakable sound of raindrops hitting glass covered us on all sides.

I pulled away from Spencer with a small smile, resting my head on his shoulder and looking off to the side, out the window at the sea of cars slowly getting covered up by a multitude of rain droplets. "I hope that was okay," I whispered against his skin, willing myself closer by draping an arm over his shoulder and using my hand to twirl some of his hair around my finger.

"That was more than okay," he responded contently. His chin rested on the top of my head and I snuggled closer into him. "Thank you, Y/N... For... For everything."

"It was my pleasure, Doctor."

We sat in comfortable near-silence for a while then, letting the rain tapping gently over the car be the steady sound that grounded us and washed away everything we had until there was a clean slate.

That was the one bad thing I found about the rain. I loved it, yes, for all its cleansing properties, and as I came into the bar tonight, I looked forward to them— to clearing my head with alcohol and a walk home in the rain.

But as I laid there, breathing in every ounce of Spencer Reid, I watched the rain roll down the windows and actually dreaded the moment it would stop.

"I wish it would rain forever," I sighed wistfully, playing with one of the buttons on Spencer's shirt.

He drew patterns into my leg all the same. "How come?"

"Because... I have to walk home. And the longer it rains, the longer I can stay here with you..."

He chuckled. "That's a nice sentiment, but you know I can drive you home, right?"

"Yeah, but... I really don't want this moment to end."

He was silent then, and for a while I thought maybe he was just going to leave it be. But then his soft voice broke through the rain and cut into me like a piece of glass. "You know you're gonna be okay, right?"

I broke away and looked up at him. "How do you mean?"

He sighed, thinking before continuing. "I mean... I'm guessing it's been rough since your husband left, and... being here with me has given you some companionship and comfort, but... Even after we part ways, you're going to be alright... It's still going to feel lonely, sure, but if there's anything I know for sure after tonight, it's that you're going to get through it just fine."

My heart swelled, though it still broke all the same. "How do you know?"

Spencer smiled, bringing a hand up to gently brush the side of my face. "Because you're my fiancée and I know you better than anyone."

As I laughed at the joke, he looked back at me with sparkles in his eyes. And then minutes later, I was haphazardly cleaning myself up in his passenger seat with a wet-nap that I'd kept tucked away in my wallet while he fumbled around for his keys.

Even as I stood on my porch that night, under the rain as I watched him drive away with the lingering buzz of our final goodbye kiss on my lips, I wondered if I'd ever see him again.

And I wondered if he would ever notice or do anything about the sparkly diamond ring I left behind, sitting beside him in my place— a reminder of our time together, the comfort he provided me with, and the clean slate that always inevitably came with the rain.

***

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