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prentissluvr · 6 months ago

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something about being close — sam winchester

pairing : s.2!sam winchester x gn!reader, featuring platonic dean ➖⟢ genre : angst, fluff, ➖⟢ cw : sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n ➖⟢ wc : 9.5K summary : sam is acting weird, and when it puts people in danger, you can't let it slide (despite the fact that you're totally in love with him).

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket.

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger's seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years.

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,” dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.”

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours.

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have.

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up.

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch.

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed.

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel.

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat.

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand.

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love.

but you still don't quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips.

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, “do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn't seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap.

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth.

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible.

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

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suiana · 10 months ago

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(yandere! pathetic simp x gn! asshole reader) (i love asshole reader sm like...)

SUIANA: WHERES MY HUSBAND

YNMYBELOVED: SHUT UP NO ONE CARES!!!

YOU: both of yall shut up wtf

YOU: noisy 💀

YNMYBELOVED: sorry babe 😞

you scoff at your group chat, rolling your eyes before proceeding to message something that will break your lover's heart.

YOU: im not ur babe anymore

YOU: go fidn another

SUIANA: find*

*YOU HAVE KICKED SUIANA OUT OF THE CHAT!*

YNMYBELOVED: wait what

YNMYBELOVED: are u serious

hell yeah you were serious. i mean, he was fun for a bit but then he got too clingy and annoying. sure his wallet was fat but still. it did NOT outweigh the fact that he literally broke into your apartment because you joked about finding someone else.

you couldn't allow him to get any closer. he's too dangerous for just a bit of casual fun. you had to prioritize yourself! that's why you were breaking things off with him...

through text of all things. how considerate.

YOU: yeah i dont like u anymore

YOU: bye

you then turn off your phone, cackling as you scroll through your discord messages for another victim. hm... this one's cute. maybe you'll-

what?

you can't message them?

you squint at your phone, still attempting to message your next victim. why's it not working? everything was fine just a few minutes ago... so why did it stop working now? did you get banned?

no way... you adhered to all the rules and regulations. there's no way you could've been banned!

...

then it all clicks to you, your ex boyfriend. of course he would do something like this.

you sigh, slumping back in your seat as you stare at your phone screen that slowly gets covered in texts full of desperate messages. damn it, why'd he have to be so gifted in technology?

'pls take me back'

'i'll change i swear'

'just don't leave me'

you roll your eyes at his texts, hoping it would end sooner rather than later. geez, this is more of an annoyance than a scare. you seriously thought your account was banned for a second.

you turn on your laptop, deciding to scroll reddit to pass time when all of a sudden, a hand wraps around your mouth, pinning you to your chair. a familiar and pathetic voice floods your ears as you try to squirm out of his grip.

"d-darling please... don't leave... I'll die without you!"

shit, you knew you should've moved away after the first time he broke into your house.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere concept #yandere pathetic simp #yandere pathetic simp x reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting #shitpost

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hearthaleydunphy · 7 months ago

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Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off - OP • 81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

warnings: drinking?

synopsis: oscar knew exactly what to expect when his girlfriend told him she was going out for margaritas…

a/n: my “cuntry” playlist had taken over my mind. also i love osc. anyways tell me you like this or i will cry

she said “i’m going out with my girlfriends. Margaritas at the Holiday Inn” - oh, have mercy, my only thought - was tequila makes her clothes fall off

“Hey, I’m heading out,” Y/n said, pressing a kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek as he sat in bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Hm. What are you guys up to this time?” He asked, softly pressing a kiss to the back of her hand before she could leave him.

“Margaritas,” She said nonchalantly, seeming to forget what happens everytime tequila hits her tongue.

“Well, be safe. Maybe grab an extra layer though,” Oscar Chuckled. Y/n lightly shoved him with a scoff but did, in fact, grab a jacket on her way out.

she’ll start by kicking out of her shoes - lose an earring in her drink - leave her jacket in a bathroom stall - drop a contact down the sink

Y/n grunted as she dropped down into the booth her and her friends had claimed as their own. She was quick to kick her heels off. One margarita and two songs deep and her feet were already killing her.

She was quick to finish off her drink once the heels were off. She place the glass on the table and reached over it to grab something from the other side of the booth, not realizing the backing of her earring had come off and the earring had fallen into the empty glass.

Kika was quick to replenish Y/n’s drink before dragging the girl back to the busy dance floor.

she don’t mean nothing - she’s just having fun - tomorrow she’ll say “oh, what have i done?” - her friends will joke about the stuff she lost - yeah, tequila makes her clothes fall off

As the night continued Y/n only lost more things. Oscar was not shocked when she stumbled into their apartment, her dress the only remaining piece of her outfit. Despite how late it was, he was quick to help her stumble through her night routine.

He knew she’d be confused and disappointed when she woke up the next morning and realizing she left behind her favorite jacket and heels at the club, but Y/n knew the real problem would come from the jokes about that night from her friends and Oscar himself. Right now, that did not matter to her cause she was back in the arms of the man she loved.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #mclaren f1 #f1 #fanfic #country brain rot is real #f1 and country #i don’t like this #please tell me you like this

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mariespen · 8 months ago

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Birthday Reunion ¡! ❞

bf!rafe cameron x daddy issues!reader ¡! ❞ warnings: swearing, drinking, implied drinking problems, implied body shaming, mentions of anxiety, degrading comments summary: “What did I do to deserve you..”

based on this request!

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Your light pink heels tapped down the long staircase of Tannyhill, the curved architecture giving you the perfect princess moment. The only difference was that instead of a ballroom of people at the bottom, it was simply your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron. It didn’t matter, though. People would have thought you were real royalty just by the way his jaw hung when he saw you in the pretty dress he picked out just for your birthday present. It swished around your thighs, bringing his favorite parts of your body to focus… maybe too far into focus.

Your soft giggle broke him out of his star-struck trance. You couldn’t help it, he looked so cute in his formalwear for your birthday dinner. Just as your heels touched down on the ground, Rafe swept you up into his loving embrace.

“Looking fuckin’ amazing, hm?” He said with a grin, love coating his gaze as he looked down at you. All you could do was giggle.

You poor thing, he always left you speechless.

Rafe’s face softened. Any form of laughter that left your sweet, glossy lips was music to his ears. You kept him close to him for a while and he let you, of course. Tonight was supposed to be fun, a care-free date between you and Rafe. However, it was your mother’s genius idea to bring the family together and celebrate your special day, all together. A family reunion on your birthday.. why did Rafe let you agree to this?

“Gotta cover up..” He muttered, busying himself with your cardigan and handing you one of his bigger zip-ups.

“Thank you..” You said gently, letting him help you drape it over your shoulders to keep you warm.

“Mhm.. you ready princess?” Rafe asked cautiously, still prepared to call you in sick from this whole thing.

“Yeah..” You said, a small frown on your face as you wrapped yourself closer into his sweater.

“Okay, let’s go, yeah?” He said, obviously disappointed that you were so insistent on this, somehow still supporting you.

Rafe knew how these things played out. He could predict it now, keeping you close as the two of you tried to socialize awkwardly with your family and then eventually your father showed up. Usually it was late, most of the time he was already a little drunk, and there was a 100% chance that he was not going to leave the reunion sober by any means. That’s the basic routine besides the fact that in-between downing every drink on the table, your precious daddy would degrade you until you ended up right back in Rafe’s arms.

Right back where you’ve always belonged.

The car ride was silent besides your girlie music and the soft sound of Rafe’s hand occasionally brushing against your dress when he rubbed your thigh comfortingly.

You had a tendency to react poorly in anxious situations, he knew this for a fact. Rafe planned on keeping you very very close tonight.

Pulling up the prolonged driveway of your mother’s expensive house on figure 8 made you want to throw up. She moved from your old house into this atrocity of a mansion, so at least there weren't any prominent reminders of your lonely childhood. It comforted you enough to take Rafe’s hand and let yourself out of the car.

The two of you winced as you walked up to the door. Neither of you really wanted to be there all that much, Rafe arguably hated it even more than you (which was impressive).

He reached over your head to knock on the door. Five hard knocks that echoed through the soft music playing within the house. Your eyes darted around the cars, thankful to not see your father there yet. Maybe he forgot, he could be so drunk off his ass that he forgot about you.

For the better, probably.

Your mom eagerly opened the door, instantly wrapping both you and Rafe in a tipsy yet somehow still loving hug. Rafe greeted her with a hesitant smile as you slowly worked up the motivation to plaster on your own faux smile for the rest of the night.

Then began the awkward greetings. Your aunt and uncle instantly greeted you, your aunt marvling at Rafe for maybe a second too long. He smiled kindly at them. Rafe had always been better at putting on a nice show. You were thrown around the room, embraced in many of your family’s drunken arms and sluggish greetings. Somehow, even through all of the commotion, Rafe’s gentle hand remained on your back.

Hours passed and you felt a gasp of relief leave you as you realized the reunion was nearly over and your father had yet to make a show. You stood near the front door with Rafe over your shoulder, giddy to leave the moment that the clock struck 9pm.

You felt his hand come down to your waist and clutch you closer to him, causing you to flinch slightly in surprise. Your heart stopped, realizing quickly why his grip was so prominent on your side.

Dragging himself into the house through the long, arched doorway was no one but your own father. His drunken gaze skimmed over the crowd before instantly dropping on you. One quick and judgmental up and down look comprised his purpose; to make your life hell.

His suit was too tight on his body as he breathed sharply and made his way over to both you and Rafe. You avoided Rafe’s gaze entirely, not wanting to witness the narrow stare of his eyes.

“Dad!” You said softly, beginning to pull away from Rafe until he pulled you right back to him. Your fake smile must have been obvious because all you got from your father was a scoff and a judgmental glance before he stumbled into the party.

Rafe was already urging you out of the door by the time your mother came to tell you that it was time for cake, “your favorite!” She said with a squeal, motioning to a chocolate ice cream cake.

Which wasn’t your favorite, but you’ve learned not to care.

You got ushered to the large dining room, Rafe shuffling behind you and looking ready to kill anyone who took one step too close to your shaking body. All of your family surrounded the table, leaving barely enough room for you to fit in next to your fast-melting cake

A short and unorganized rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ was sung by the slurred voices of your family as you stood quietly, shyly smiling and feeling Rafe’s comforting hand holding yours. More cake was brought out to provide for all of the guests as your mother happily laughed with drunken joy.

Your piece was brought to you, a smaller slice than most. As you leaned down to grab your fork, you felt the plate leave your weak grip. Standing up in an instant, you were ready to pout at Rafe and tell him to get his own slice. However, you were met by your father’s mean and unforgiving stare.

“You don’t need… this.” He said plainly, obviously scanning your outfit and figure.

Tears swarmed your eyes as he spat more at you. Over time you had learned to tune him out, but you hadn’t heard his words for months now, nearly a year.

“It’s disgusting that you walk into your mother’s house looking like a slut.” He said with a scoff, either unaware of the tears dripping down your face or choosing to ignore them (it was the latter).

“Thank god you have a boyfriend, hopefully he keeps you in your place.” Your father sneered as you vaguely watched Rafe push through the crowd to get back to you after he was pushed away in the cake swarm.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Your stare was blank when Rafe finally got to you, shoving your father away without hesitation and taking your purse from your slouching arm as he pulled you away from everyone. Rafe’s grip on your body was persistent as he took you through the house, through the front door, and eventually through his car door. You were still trying to tune out everything that had happened, proving to be non-responsive when Rafe begged you to answer his questions.

“C’mon princess, tell me what he said.” Rafe said through gritted teeth as one hand gripped his steering wheel with white knuckles and the other softly brushed over your palm.

The world was silent, your eyes deep and dull and you stared down at your pink heels when Rafe took you into Tannyhill.

“Hey, baby.. talk to me.” Rafe said gently, his thumbs already flicking away your tears as the two of you sat on the luxurious couch. His pleading voice eventually got back into your head and you nodded softly.

“Oh sweetheart..” Rafe whispered, starting to say something else before you let yourself fall back into him and bury yourself into his warm body. You hid away from the spiraling world as he whispered into your ear.

“I got you, princess. I’m here.” “Want you to only listen to my voice, don’t let him stay in your head.”

“I love you, sweetheart.” His lips peppered two soft kisses against both of your rosy, swollen cheeks before more tears poured out of your eyes. You were slowly coming back to yourself and Rafe couldn’t fully tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Your body came to you in small tremors, your poor shoulders shaking as your sweet and honey-like voice rasped over with deep sobs. Rafe held you close, whispering gently into your ear for a while, eventually feeling you relax into his arms.

“I’m sorry I… I just-“ You started, trying to apologize for your sudden outburst.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Focus on me.” Rafe said, kissing you softly and smiling as he felt your sticky lip gloss smear against his lips.

You smiled back, suddenly focused on the way he looked down at you, opening his mouth to tell you more.

“Aw look at that..” He said, kissing your smile and grinning into the gentle contact before pulling away.

“What did I do to deserve you..” He whispered with adoration in his eyes as he scooped you right back up and held you to his chest.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

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twiishaa · 23 days ago

Text

sanji x reader ; wc 1.4k warnings again i shat this out at 3am and there are parts i’m not too happy with but i think it’s okay as a whole <3 tiny tiny bit of angst if you squint?? fem!reader <3 here’s my masterlist!

it had only been a few weeks since you joined the straw hats’ crew. to leave your home and everything you’ve known behind to pursue a life on the sea, on the run from the world government on a whim was a big decision, but you didn’t regret it. being part of such a lively crew made it worth it, you guys were like a family already.

but they didn’t need to know you did it partly because the blond cook of theirs was kinda…

anyways. that can stay between you and me <3

it was the middle of the night, and you finally sat up after hours of not being able to sleep. maybe it was the humidity on the ship, or maybe it was the small, lingering homesick feeling you had. you drowsily made your way to the deck, the slightly salty wind waking you up a little. now that you were out of your room, it was homesickness that was keeping you awake. you hadn’t felt homesick these past weeks, why were you feeling it now? this had been everything you were dreaming of—adventure, fun, and friends you knew you’d go to the end of the grand line for, even though you’d only known them a quarter of the time they’d known each other.

oh.

was homesickness that feeling you felt sometimes, when everyone was laughing together?

you cast your mind back to the time you’d feel sad at home. your mum would be able to sense your mood from rooms away and bake you blueberry muffins. after eating them, you’d forget about your worries and give your mum a cheery smile, whether covered in blueberry juice and crumbs or not. and so, you made your way to the kitchen, hoping that baking some blueberry muffins now would cure your loneliness, despite the ungodly hour.

hopefully sanji won’t mind...

remembering the recipe from some corner in the back of your mind was proving to be a much more difficult task than you anticipated, paired with the unfamiliarity of the ship’s kitchen. to be honest, you were having fun! it was like a game, which drawer will the wooden spoon be in? not long after, the batter was complete and distributed into their muffin cases. it was a miracle you found everything; however, that didn’t mask the moderately large mess that had built up over the course of baking the muffins. fond memories of your mum walking through the door to find you covered in flour and your lips stained with blueberry juice flooded back to you; you felt at home again, even if you weren’t physically. not long after you cleaned the counter and put the muffins in the oven, the comforting smell of fresh muffins filled the kitchen, and you took a step back to admire your work. your spirits were definitely lifted. maybe blueberry muffins are the solution to most problems.

meanwhile, in sanji’s room (room??? quarter????? wherever he’s sleeping, please just roll with it), he was awakened by the light scent of… blueberry muffins? he rolled over to check the time. nobody could be possibly be baking something at such a time… maybe he was still dreaming. nonetheless, he groggily got up just to confirm his suspicion—to make sure that no one had broke onto the ship… and decided to bake blueberry muffins… or something.

as sanji approached the kitchen, he noticed the lights were on, and a figure standing right in front of the oven.

oh?

now he was concerned. the figure was… a girl?

what? this is one strange dream… he thought to himself.

when he could finally distinguish that it was, in fact, a girl, and that it was you, of all people, he was just confused. he leaned against the doorframe, observing how you were looking at the oven like you were watching over a child. from this angle, he could make out that you were making blueberry muffins.

“what do we have here, hm? why are you up so late, [name]?”

you screamed in response, then swiftly covered your mouth as you remembered the time.

sanji chuckled. “hello to you too,” his look still conveyed sheer confusion, but he was somewhat enjoying it now.

you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks, both from embarrassment and that your secret crush, of sorts, was talking to you.

the fact that it was the middle of the night as you were baking muffins in his kitchen without asking him was irrelevant. sanji was talking to you!

you laughed nervously. “I just woke up in the middle of the night and I… really wanted blueberry muffins… so I decided to bake some…” he looked at you, evidently quite amused.

“sorry if I messed up your kitchen! or if you don’t like people using it or something.. I should have asked you before…” you trailed off timidly.

sanji laughed again, before moving to lean on the counter beside you. “It’s fine, honestly! besides, I didn’t know you bake, how come you’ve never said anything about it?”

lies.

usually, sanji was very particular with who touches the equipment in the kitchen, but he could let it slide for a pretty girl like you, or so he thought.

what you didn’t know is that your little crush was mutual—sanji had his eye on you,

not in a stalker-ish way, no!

—ever since he saw you when the crew stayed on your island. since then, he gradually started to become less and less flirty as he used to around nami and nico robin, even if you didn’t notice. he really only had eyes for you, following you around the ship as best as he could without looking like a weirdo. it was bad, he was down bad for you. by some power of the gods, you hadn’t noticed yet. everyone had noticed—even zoro, who took the opportunity to tease him every second he got; sanji was so down bad that he didn’t mind being teased about it. he did become aware of your lingering stares from time to time, but for the sake of his sanity, he just pretended he didn’t see anything and looked away, because if your eyes met you would see how flustered he actually was.

“oh, no, I don’t bake often! my mum taught me this recipe and I make it when I feel… lonely , or I don’t know, I think I just missed the taste of them.” you replied. sanji’s expression turned into one of worry. was there something wrong?

“no, no! it’s not you guys, I just… it’s my first time being away for so long, it’s just different to anything ive done before, and I just want comfort in something that I know… I probably make no sense right now..” you quickly added.

sanji shook his head. “no, I get it. doing something different is scary, and I think you’re really brave, [name].” he gave you a reassuring smile.

you blushed a little, but sanji caught sight of it and his eyes widened a little, before laughing. that little interaction was enough to confirm there was something between the two of you, but maybe the middle of the night wasn’t the best time to confront it…

beeeeeep!

the two of you were interrupted by the timer going off, indicating that the muffins were done. by now, the scent of blueberry muffins was overflowing in the kitchen, causing the two of you to laugh. as you went to take them out of the oven, sanji stopped you abruptly.

“let me do it; I wouldn’t want you to get burnt,” he took the gloves from you and took the muffins out, placing them on the counter.

damn. they looked better than you thought they would.

while the muffins were cooling, you and sanji continued your conversation from earlier, but now there was something in the air other than the smell of blueberry muffins. all of sanji’s responses had a warmer tone to them, maybe because he knew that you felt the same way, or maybe because he learnt something about you today that the rest of the crew didn’t know, he was someone special to you. the night passed quickly and soon you could see the sun rising, signalling that it was probably a good time to get at least some sleep before the entire crew awoke.

sanji could feel the effect of the sleep he lost that night and he was visibly tired in the morning, as were you; but he didn’t mind losing sleep over you if it meant one day he could be your boyfriend. <3

notes i love sanji so much <33 this was inspired by when i made blueberry muffins for my mom 😽 should i do a 100 followers event pls lmk and also send in any reqs you want love you !!

#twisha’s an author !#one piece black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x you #one piece x reader #one piece fluff #one piece #black leg sanji #one piece sanji #black leg sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader

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theemporium · 10 months ago

Note

Could you possibly write something for Nico where he dates shy reader and he is all lovey dovey with her post game win when they celebrate together? Perhaps she wears his jersey? Thank you for considering. 🫶🏻

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to support Nico, it was more so the fact the games were a lot more intense and intimidating when you were in person.

You watched every game without fail, though usually it was from the comfort of your own couch whilst you were buried in one of his hoodies. And despite what people assumed, he didn’t mind. He knew you supported him. He knew that the second the game was over, you would be on the phone to him to tell him exactly what you thought of the game, always complementing the way he played regardless of whether the Devils won or lost.

And he knew games in person weren’t really your thing. You didn’t like the attention of being sat by the glass and, even though you got along with the other players’ families and friends, it still felt a little intense to be in a suite with them for the whole game. You didn’t like the pressure of having to keep up friendly small talk during the game, but Nico knew you would because you would have felt bad otherwise.

So, in all honesty, he didn’t mind that you didn’t go to his games.

But there was something that made his heart want to burst out of his chest on the games you did attend in person.

“Fuck you, Panthers!”

Nico huffed out a laugh, shaking his head at Jack’s antics. The boy was already one too many drinks deep into their post-game celebration after—by some miraculous turn of events—thrashing the Panthers on Jersey soil with a buzzing 6-1.

“You’re gonna get us kicked out,” Nico teased, but the boy didn’t care as he grinned widely at his captain.

“Give it a break, Cap, go back to making heart eyes at your girl!” Jack snickered, wiggling his eyebrows at the two of you. He didn’t think Nico had let go of you since he had stepped out of the locker room. “We fucking broke the streak! We are allowed to celebrate!”

“Let him have his fun,” you said, your arms tightening to gain your boyfriend’s attention as he tore his eyes away from Jack to look down at you. His gaze softened in an instant and it made your stomach erupt with butterflies. “You all deserve to celebrate the win after the rough streak.”

“Hm, maybe we won because you were here,” Nico teased, though there was a sincerity in his words that made you think he truly believed his own words. “Wanna come to Montreal with us?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Today was all you, I had nothing to do with it.”

“I don’t know about that,” Nico said with a massive smile on his lips as his fingers playfully tugged on the hem of the jersey you were wearing. “We lost the last five games until my girl walked in with her lucky jersey on. I think that’s all the proof we need.”

Your cheeks burned as you glanced down at the lucky jersey in question. It was an old jersey of his, maybe one from a year or two ago. He had given it to you near the start of your relationship, when he was leaving for his first roadie since you started seeing each other. You joked about buying some Devils merch to support him whilst you watched the games and he had handed you the jersey the night before he left. You wore it for every game you watched—or at least, you tried to.

This had been the first game in a while you had worn it since you lost it in the process of moving apartments with Nico, into an apartment big enough for the two of you.

“You hockey players and your superstitions,” you murmured, tucking your chin against your chest to hide how flushed ‘my girl’ made you.

But Nico was one step ahead of you as his hands moved to cup your cheeks, lifting your head until he could look down at your flustered face with a soft smile. “I heard kissing the captain after a win gives the team good luck for their next.”

You laughed and his expression brightened. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, an old hockey legend,” Nico nodded.

“Well, you gotta kiss him now!” Jack exclaimed from the other side of the table. “We need the luck!”

You laughed harder as you wrapped your arms around his waist once again and grinned up at him. “I think I can get behind that superstition.”

And Nico barely gave you a chance to finish your sentence before he leaned down to kiss you, his smile pressed against yours.

#nico hischier #nhl #new jersey devils #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier fic #nico hischier one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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hajimeseyo · 10 months ago

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You're staring, Izana notices.

He has no idea who you are, really, but you've been trying (and obviously failing) to sneak subtle glances at him the entire time since he stepped into the convenience store. It's starting to throw him off, just a little. For all he knows, you could be a spy from an opposing gang. Not a very good one, though.

Your gaze follows him as he walks towards the cashier and pays, and even as he walks towards the exit, plastic bags in hand. He pays it no mind as he feels it shift off him, the sound of the cashier greeting you the last thing he hears as he steps outside the store.

It didn't seem like you were going to pick a fight with him, he might as well just leave it be.

Besides, any gang that dared to come after Tenjiku would just be mercilessly crushed under his heel. A spy or two wouldn't change that fact.

The clouds above him rumble, dark and heavy, and he frowns, looking up at the cloudy sky. It would be a pain in the ass if it rained while he was in the middle of walking home. Maybe he could call Kakucho to pick him up. Or he could just buy an umbrella from the store right behind him…

The sound of footsteps snap him out of his thoughts, and he glances to the side to see you, head lowered and lips mouthing numbers as you take inventory of the things in your plastic bag. You don't seem to have noticed him, he notes in amusement.

His theory proves true when you look up, done from counting, and nearly jump at the sight of him staring straight at you. Your eyes are wide, the way you freeze reminding him of a prey caught by its hunter, and he can't stop himself from having a little fun.

“You were staring at me quite a lot earlier, huh?” He says, relishing in the way your face flushes with embarrassment, and the way you instantly try (and fail) to school it into a look of nonchalance. “Is there a problem?”

You cough awkwardly, eyes suddenly unable to look at him despite being fully glued onto him just minutes ago. Izana watches you squirm, all too used to these shows of discomfort. Based on most of his past interactions, you'll probably come up with some lame excuse on why you were staring at him, then take the first opportunity you have to run away. Or get defensive, and aggressively deny you were doing anything of the sort. People always act the same when confronted with their actions. Izana's used to the same old song and dance.

He wonders which route you’ll take.

To his surprise, you take neither of them.

You seem to come to a decision, gaze snapping up to him, nervous but suddenly full of what seems like determination.

“There's no problem, I was just staring because–” You falter a little here, cheeks reddening a little again, before you pull yourself together with a quick shake of the head. “Because, well…your eyes.”

“Hm?” That response certainly wasn’t what he was expecting. “What about them?”

“They're beautiful.”

The words are said so plainly, without a trace of any doubt, and Izana is shocked speechless.

While he doesn't deny that he's good looking, the word ‘beautiful’ and any part of him have never been together in the same sentence before. That he's heard of, at least. Even if any of his subordinates had the guts to consider him ‘beautiful’, they definitely wouldn’t have the guts to say it to his face. Granted, you probably don’t have any idea who he is, but still. This is definitely a first.

(And even so, the thought that something about him could be beautiful was something that had never occurred to him.)

“...Really?” The words come out in a whisper before he could stop himself.

You nod vigorously, and once again Izana is thrown off by the fact that it's something you're so sure of. As if the thought of it being untrue has never even crossed your mind.

His response seems to appear to you as an invitation to talk more, as you continue speaking, hesitation fading away with each word that comes out of your mouth. “They're just such a beautiful shade of purple, like amethysts. I've never seen anything like it before. And paired with your long white eyelashes and white hair, you look like someone's painting came to life.”

"I don't know if anyone's told you before, but you're really a sight to behold."

There's a light, pleasant feeling in his chest.

He doesn't know what it is.

“Ah!” You suddenly slap your hands over your mouth. “I spoke too much! God, I must've sounded like a creep, I'm so sorry–”

A laugh cuts you off from your panicked rambling. Izana doesn't quite know why he's laughing, but seeing you panicking over saying the wrong things despite being fully shameless literally right before just seemed so funny, and well, there's such a nice warmth in his chest; indulging in it doesn't hurt, right?

(He doesn’t notice the stars in your eyes as you stare, almost in awe, at his laughing visage.)

“What’s your name?” You’re interesting, he’s decided. It would be a shame to let you just slip away.

“[name].”

He lets out a hum. “[name], huh…got it.”

“Wait.” You call out to him, just as he turns and begins to walk away. “What’s yours?”

He doesn’t notice, but as he turns back, there’s a genuine, serene smile on his face that would’ve shocked even the noisiest Haitani twins into silence at seeing it on the face of the highly feared leader of Tenjiku.

“Izana. Don’t forget it.”

(He’s scolded nonstop by Kakucho when he shows up at home, soaking wet from the heavy downpour outside.

“It’s not like you to be so careless.” Kakucho huffs, drying his hair roughly with all the fierceness of an Asian mom. “You knew it was going to start raining on your way back, why didn’t you just call for one of us to get you from the store?”

Izana hums unconcernedly. “I was already walking away from the store, I couldn’t just stop and turn back.”

“Huh?? Why the hell not??”

“Don’t be stupid, Kakucho. I would’ve looked so uncool.”

“??????”)

(part 2 here!)

#just a silly little drabble i thought of #no seriously tho bro is gorgeous #ethereal #beautiful #definitely deserves more love #i love pretty men 🫶#izana #izana kurokawa #izana x reader #izana kurokawa x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #my writing

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tourturestarradio · 3 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐄𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Pairing: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji (more added later) x Mermaid reader!

Prompt: After your family jewels were stolen you were determined to get them back joining you closest friend Monkey D. Luffy on his adventure to become the king of the pirates.

Warnings: none, this follows the live action!!

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

⋆｡°✩ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ �� ┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ★⋆ ┊ ◦ ★⋆ ┊ . ˚ ˚★

𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 was very strict about who I placed myself around, who I befriend, what part of the sea I'm on. It was so stressful sometimes, all the rules and regulations were annoying. I just wanted to swim around the ocean and make friends.

But I had none. Not a single one until today. One of the biggest rules was to never. EVER. Go to the surface, under any circumstances. But being the air head I was I went up anyway, I wanted to see what it was like!

Seeing the sunlight peel through the seawater I gulped nervously hearing loud voices, I carefully and slowly peeked up out of the water, the first thing I noticed was the odd smell, it was like nothing like what I smelled before.

I looked around hearing laughing "Luffy for the last time you aren't prepared enough to be a pirate yet." I looked at the two humans who talked, one was a tall man with red hair, a straw hat, and three scars on his eye.

There was a shorter boy with curly black hair and brown skin "yes I am!" I watched the two talk. well more like argue...

Until I saw the shorter boy turn and walk towards me I jumped and ducked my head under the water as the boy stormed over sitting down with a pout and his arms crossed.

Fun fact about me, my fins tend to glow when I'm flustered, shy, or scared/nervous. So even if i'm hiding most likely you'll still be able to spot me, so you can guess to my surprise when I peeked through my webbed fingers and saw the black haired boy staring dead at me.

I jumped and swam away. A human boy saw me! I'm so done for! He had called out to me "hey wait up!" I guess my fins were still glowing because he followed me down the dock.

I stopped and looked back poking my head out the water "how did you swim that fast!" I was too nervous to speak "u-um...I-I..." I gulped out of nervousness.

His eyes sparkled with curiosity "hey why are you glowing so bright?" I glanced at my fins "I..don't know" he backed up as bit pointing his thumb at his chest "wait. wait. wait let me introduce myself! I'm Monkey D. Luffy! And i'm gonna be king of the pirates!"

I giggled a bit at his behavior "I-I'm Y/n L/n...nice to meet you Luffy!" I smiled at him, his face to turn pink "h-hey you glow like me!" I smiled wider lightly pulling myself up out of the water "wah! you have gills!" He pointed out.

I nodded my head excitedly "mhm!"

I liked this boy Luffy he was very fun. And he didn't seem weirded out by my fish-like appearance. I mean if I hid my gills and covered my fins people wouldn't be able to tell I was half fish.

Well the way my eyes blinked would probably give it away and my (f/c) skin would look odd...and my tail. If only I had legs...

I stayed talking to Luffy for a long while "so what's your dream?" he asked me, staring at me with unblinking eyes and a big smile. I thought for a moment "hmm...maybe...no...ah!...uh no..." I shrugged "I don't know..." Luffy laid on his stomach his legs kicked up behind him.

"Well maybe you'll think of something" he hummed.

"Hm maybe you'll figure it out later..." I nodded in agreement, Luffy stared at me for a moment "so what are you?" he asked, "I'm a mermaid" Luffy peeked his head over into the water. I lifted my tail high enough for him to see it.

"Oo wah~ so cool!" he reached his hands out and touched it gliding his fingers along my scales. I shivered and pulled my tail back into the water "m'sorry my tail is sensitive" I stated.

Looking out at the sky Y/n noticed how it was now sundown "o-oh I gotta go! It was great talking to you Luffy!" ducking my head under the water I swam away hearing Luffy yelling out a loud "Goodbye!! I hope we see each other again!"

A smile grew on my face as I swam home.

The black haired boy ran over "Shanks! Shanks!" a red haired male looked over at Luffy with a raised brow "what's got you all pumped up huh?" Luffy pointed behind himself at the docks "there wassa girl! she-she had gills! and-and fins! she had a really cool tail!" one of Shanks crew mates heard him.

He laughed "does little Luffy got a crush?" Luffy lightly blushed while yelling "No! I-I've just never seen something like her before!" Shanks took a mental note of her description.

Shanks crew mates teased Luffy about the girl for the next couple of days, but he didn't care he still decided to visit his new friend. Y/n would swim to the surface both becoming close with each other.

A friendship blooming between the two.

Asking each other about their lives on land and in the sea, "so would you ever be able to come on land?" he asked.

Y/n's tail swayed back and forth "hm..well probably not for a long time." Y/n stated tapping her chin, Luffy frowned "why not?" Y/n rested her head on her palms "well there is a special necklace that merfolk are gifted. and it lets tails turn to legs or in some rare cases some merfolk can just turn their tail to legs on their own"

Luffy smiled "so cool!" Y/n tilted her head "so who was that red haired guy with the scars" Luffy glanced back at the girl "That's Shanks! He's a pirate too! and he's the captain" speak of the devil, the red haired male came over "Luffy! who're you chatting with?"

Luffy smiled and pointed to where his new fish friend was supposed to be, "to Y/n!" Y/n quickly ducked her head under the water out of fright, but sadly her fins began to glow. Shanks smirked "oi no need to be frightened" he stated, squatting down to where the mermaid was.

Y/n slowly peeked her head up muttering a small "hi..." Shanks smiled at her "hello so you're this Y/n Luffy has been yapping on about" her fins started to glow brighter, she nodded her head.

Suddenly she remembered she had a gift for Luffy, "oh Luffy! I got you a gift, m-my grandpa said it's always good to give a friend a gift."

Luffy perked up "is it food?" he asked, Y/n frowned "did you...did you want food?" "yeah!-" "he'll take the gift" Shanks interrupted Luffy.

Lifting her hand out of the water Y/n placed a closed oyster next to Luffy who eagarly snatched it up opening it.

Y/n grew nervous as Luffy didn't say anything, quickly she spoke "i-it's a b-bracelet. i-if you don't l-like it I can take it back. u-unless you do like it! I mean i-it's not all that g-great. ya'know what nevermind.I-" the rambling girl was hushed when she felt the boy hug her tightly while laughing.

His body almost fell into the water by how far he was leaning off the edge, Shanks picked up the gorgeous bracelet staring at it.

Luffy yanked it back putting it on excitedly, he lightly shook it around the soft clinks of the charms and sea glass making his smile grow wider.

Y/n looked up at the two "so do you like it?" he nodded his head "I love it!"

Shanks smiled at the two "looks like someone has a crush..." he laughed loudly, Y/n glowed "o-oh look at the time!" Luffy cheeks grew pink as he denied what Shanks said.

Y/n pulled herself up enough to sit on the docks most of her tail still in the water, she hugged the black haired boy "bye Luffy" he hugged her back his arms around her torso squeezing her tightly. Letting go Luffy waved goodbye "bye bye Y/n!" she sent one last smile to him and swam away.

✰ ✰ ✰

Swimming past other sea creatures I saw a shark swimming by, I giggled and swam over to it circling around it. It nudged me I smiled and swam away the shark following me. As I went deeper into the water the shark swam away, I saw my siblings swim up to me quickly "where have you been?" they asked me.

I blinked "um just swimming around, ya'know" my oldest brother swam up to me eyeing me his arms crossed, gulped feel my fins glow.

"Y/n..."

I started to sweat. Even if you couldn't tell. My other siblings swam closer looking at me with curiosity, "I-I...was just-"

"Y/n."

Without thinking I blurted out "I went to the surface!" all of them froze in place "you. did. What?!" my oldest brother shouted, I gulped "I-I went to the surface..." he pitched the bridge of his nose.

"Is that why you've been gone all those hours?" I slowly nodded, my other brothers smiled "so cool! I've never been to the surface!"

"I heard it was scary!"

"I heard the people smell weird"

"I heard-"

"Enough! If father finds out about this"

"Finds out about what?"

All of us hushed turning around to see our father, he looked at us with a raised brow. Thinking quickly one of my brothers spoke "your surprise gift!" all of us sighed with fake disappointment "oops..."

My father shook his head "alright, Y/n come follow me." I gulped nervously and followed after him. I tried to keep my fins from glowing, "is there something you need father?" he nodded but didn't say a word.

I followed him through our home far past any of our rooms. He put his hand up to the door a light purple glow emitting from his palm, I 'awed' at the sight the door opened. The room we entered was softly "Y/n i've never told your older brothers about this but....i'm trust you with this Y/n." pulling open a clam mouth he grabbed something.

Turning around I saw a beautiful light green necklace I reached out to touch it but my father pulled it away. "All of your brothers have one but they aren't to use them until they are ready." he stated I tilted my head in confusion "this necklace holds the power to turn your tail to legs" my eyes lit up as I smiled "r-really I thought-" "once you are old enough you may wear it as you please."

I was so giddy about wearing the necklace I started to space out but my father snapped his fingers in front of my face "Y/n listen to me. This necklace is important, it was your mothers. It is very important to our family" I frowned at the mention of the woman.

"One day you will get to wear it just as she did. she would be proud" I smiled and looked down "alright let's go, I don't want the boys getting suspicious about their gifts" I giggled and swam out the room my father follow close behind me before seemingly locking it again.

As the night went on I stayed awake wanting to go to that room again. An idea popping into my mind, maybe I could surprise Luffy tomorrow. Closing my eyes I fell asleep a warm feeling wrapping around my body.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

A/n: this uploaded from my account on Wattpad/quotev!

#fem reader #one piece x reader #sub one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #one piece usopp #one piece #monkey d. luffy #one piece luffy #luffy x reader #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sanji x reader #mermaid reader #fanfic

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ghosts-to-reid · 2 months ago

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A Tragedy for The Bard

Request: In which the reader is Spencer Reid's best friend for two years since he joined the BAU. The reader saw Spencer loving JJ, Lila and now a mysterious girl on the phone "Maeve" when one day Spencer introduces her to the team, they are all happy for him, the reader was very sad but wants Spencer to be happy with Maeve @shuichiakainx

A/N: I kinda changed the timeline of the friendship and the request a lil but i hope you enjoy still! Accidentally went off and wrote an entire novel so i hope you enjoy!

TW: Maeve arc spoilers, violence, suicide, stalking, bodily harm

ANGSTY

SPENCER REID REQUESTS OPEN!

Spencer Reid has been your best friend since you joined the FBI’s renowned BAU. He was sweet and kind, always attentive to your emotions, and showing he cared. He’d bring you coffee every morning, sit with you at lunch, and then, more often, than not, hang out with you through evenings; You never had set plans together, but the impromptu nature of your friendship is what made it exciting. After all, he was your best friend, things should be this easy with him.

Of course, having a crush on your best friend isn’t completely bizarre. The brain can get confused with chemicals and all, the attraction you have to Spencer is simply a bug in your brain that’ll balance out eventually…

That’s what you told yourself when you saw the pictures of Spencer and Lila in the pool. This was when you were both still fairly new, when he was a merely 23 and you were 25. Of course, he was already far more qualified than you were, and when you met, the fact you’d skipped 2 grades didn’t seem so impressive anymore… yet you couldn’t hold a grudge. The pair of you worked together amazingly, Derek and Elle often poked fun at you both when they over heard, quote “nerdy-ass nonsense” (Eloquently said, Agent Morgan) but you cherished those moments. Those moments were what made you fall for his mind first and foremost, the discussions, massively unorthodox hypotheticals, spirited debates, it was all so easy with him. Of course, you’d acknowledge that he’s attractive, very much so you thought. But you were co workers, so the tinge of jealousy you felt whenever Spencer and Lila interacted just had to be ignored.

The thing that stung the most was Spencer’s eagerness go to talk to you about their kiss.

The team had just wrapped up the Lila Archer case. You were all exhausted, of course, but you maybe more so than the rest of the team. Sitting alone with your head resting atop your fist, staring into space whilst the rest of the team settled into their seats. You barely notice Spencer sitting in the single seat across from you, speaking your name softly to get your attention. Eventually you notice, lifting your head, slowly blinking at him

“Hm?”

“I was just wondering if… if you had a chance to look through the case file yet…” his voice held a nervous edge as he fiddled with his cuffs. He was wondering if you saw him and Lila, making out, in a pool. You sure as hell had and you were desperately trying to hide your seething jealousy that you weren’t the one in that pool with him. However, you feigned negligence.

“No.” Shaking your head lightly, voice soft, you were emphasising your fatigue in an attempt to keep this interaction short “I’ve not had the time yet.”

He seemed slightly relieved, his shoulders were still tense as he leaned back in his seat, though. He seemed to be looking for an invitation to continue, but you weren’t going to give it to him yet.

“She kissed me…” he muttered quietly, his fingers seemingly becoming fascinating to him. The breath caught in your lungs for a second before you pulled your lips into a tight, albeit forced, smile.

“That’s great Spencer. I’m happy for you.” You speak softly and slowly, trying to convince both him and yourself that your statement was truth. He seemed convinced by the small smile on his face, a blush to his cheek. He opened his mouth to continue but you were interrupted by Gideon’s voice

“Y/N! Come over here a second.” Was all he said. Spencer looked at you confused, and you gave him a puzzled look back. Unsure of what Gideon wanted, you stood silently and made your way over to where he sat with Hotch. You slid in across from them, Gideon was reading the paper whilst Hotch had a pen in his hand, silently writing. Confusion was still lingering as you sat there for a moment before you saw the small smile on Hotchs face, and Gideon caught your eye, giving you a small wink befor returning to his paper. Unsure how to feel at the seemingly all knowing nature of the pair, who had assessed you needed an out, you rested back into your original position, head leaning against the window and you closed your eyes. Trying to ignore the sting in your chest as you try to sleep, ignoring the lingering image of the two that had somehow burned itself at the back of your eyelids.

Though still painful, your young heart broken by a simple kiss, it was of course nothing compared to the heart break that came 2 years later. The friendship that had started as close work companions had turned into you becoming best friends, to the pair of you being nearly inseparable. At this point, you were the dream team, you had learnt to shoulder your crush on the boy wonder. Of course, the teasing was still there, you were after all very close, but it didn’t make you flush the same rose as it had before. The same can be said for Spencer, who now just huffed at Dereks implications. Of course, people on the team were aware of your crush on Spencer, they were profilers. Yet they kept it to themselves, with the obvious exception of Derek.

It was a typical Saturday night for you and Spencer, as typical as possible when you’re not away on a case anyway. Both of you were sat on his couch, legs touching, your skin felt like it was on fire at the points where you both meet, yet you had long since learnt to ignore the warm feeling you felt at moments like these. It was late, really you should’ve gone home hours ago, Saturday had become Sunday hours ago, but the two of you had been caught up in conversation, a common occurrence between the two of you. Tonight, though, had been a night of deep conversations, psychological exploration of each others memories. The topic of crushes had come up, Spencer had opened up to you about what had happened to him in Highschool, and you comforted him. Then, you shared a story about how your diary was stolen, and the pages of embarrassing love poetry were printed and posted around your school. His way of comfort is to tell you how he’d think it was romantic, before rambling about the Shelley’s and Byron.

“Do you have a crush right now?” You asked sleepily, you were sleepily hopeful of a love confession but you weren’t counting on it. Spencer only saw you as a friend after all.

Spencer leans back on the couch, looking back up to you with half lidded eyes. He takes a moment to read your face, to look for any kind of malice or mischief, and when finding none, pulls his lips to a tight line.

“Kind of… I love someone.” Was all he said. It was clear that the sleep deprivation was acting like a truth serum on you both, and making you both bolder. Maybe not for the better…

You’d perked up slightly when he’d said the word ‘love’, hoping again, silently it was you. That, he’s finally, after 4 years of pining in your friendship, that he’d realised his feelings for you. You promoted him to continue, hoping for him to speak your name.

“JJ…” he was breathless

Again, that twisting pain hit you like a train. Your chest aches and your eyes suddenly felt very itchy. Spencer continues, as if he doesn’t need another print after seeing you enthusiasm.

“She’s just, so kind yanno? And I know that you’re probably thinking she’s too pretty or nice for me but, I don’t plan to act on it. I don’t want to destroy our friendship over this, but I've loved her for a while now. I love her laugh, her eyes. She’s so kind to everyone, you know?” He continues to ramble for a few minutes whilst you sit still, focusing most of your energy on not crying right now. Instead, the strength to interject conjures itself.

“That’s great Spencer. I’m happy you know how it feels to love someone, even under painful circumstances. Believe me, I know how you feel, I’ve been there.” You have his knee a reassuring squeeze before sluggishly attempting to stand, but Spencer grabs your wrist softly.

“Where are you going?”

“It’s late, Spencer… I need to go home.” Glancing at the clock, it read 5:07, the sun would be rising soon and you’d love nothing else but to cry in your own bed and sleep the Sunday away. He pulls you down to the couch once more before shifting to sit and face you.

“You don’t have to go, you can stay here tonight… I mean this morning…?” He looks at you with a tender gaze that makes your heart ache after his confession not even two moments ago. Ordinarily, you’d stay in his bed whilst he took the couch, an arrangement he absolutely insisted on, and you held little resistance to. Your main self control impulse was being kept in check from asking him to join you. If you hadn’t felt on the brink of breaking down in sobs, you wouldn’t have even thought about it. But tonight, you learned that not only Spencer’s love was unrequited, it was also no where near directed to you. Reality checks hurt, and are dealt with best in bed, in the dark. Therefore, the shake of your head takes him off guard as you silently move to put on your shoes. Spencer follows behind you

“I can’t stay tonight sorry Spencer, I said I’d take my grandma to church-“ a blantant lie, she lived in Texas. You hoped he didn’t know that. He shook his head though.

“I don’t want you to get a taxi at this time, why don’t you stay here and I’ll drive you tommorow?” He’s worried of course and you sigh. Shaking your head once more, why was he so caring? He was now rambling statistics about kidnappings and murders of women at this time of day, knowing his relentless efforts weren’t in vain as you were weak to his efforts. You gave into him.

“Fine! Fine…” you take a deep breath and rub your eyes, hoping he’s interpreting how red they are as sleep depravation, rather than the effort holding back a flood of tears. “I’ll just cancel tomorrow...” you lie again, quickly moving to his bedroom door, him in tow, not giving him the opportunity to reply as you flop onto the bed facing away from spencer. He watched you with a furrowed brow, but follows the regular routine you had both settled into when you stay. He grabs a pillow and a blanket, and presses a small kiss to your forehead before grabbed his book off of his nightstand. However, already heartbroken enough, you can’t handle that ‘friendly’ forehead kiss and so you purposely pulled the duvet over your head. However, it didn’t stop him from pressing a small kiss to the duvet, you could feel the bed dip where he leaned on the matress, of course he wouldn’t care about a stupid duvet.

10 minutes is how long you wait before you finally let out a quiet sob. Luckily, they’re mostly hushed by the thick duvet that’s still wrapped around your head, and you bring your hand up to muffle the rest of the sound as you cry over Spencer Reid. The smell of coffee and patchouli is thick on his duvet, a normal comfort contorted into a terror that spurs another soft cry. You stay like that until you fall asleep, where you end up sleeping till 3 pm.

You awake to a sandwich on the side table, accompanied by a glass of orange juice. Spencer left a note reading “JJ asked if I’d help her with something, be back before 4.” Ignoring the sandwich, you made as quick of an exit as you could. Unaware of the tears stains you had left in Reid’s pillow….

Of course, you eventually healed from that. Neither relationship had ever come to fruition after all. That is why now, after how ever many years of friendship, you were going to be bold. You were going to tell him how you really felt. In a moment of sentimentality, had bought a collection of various romantic era poetry, and wrote your own little addition asking him on a date, as a call back to that intimate night, and with hope to rewrite that memory for yourself. Nothing could go wrong, you and Spencer had be great, as great as you could be whilst dealing with psycho killers.

Arriving at the office, you had no time to drop the book off onto his desk. Hotch called the team into the conference room with a morose look, that made your face pale.

There, Spencer stood in front of the team, looking disheveled and sleep deprived was the last crack in the dam of emotion for you. He looked so small, so fragile. Not meeting anyone’s eye, speaking like he’s in a trance. He’s asking for the teams help.

Help to find his kidnapped girlfriend.

You could’ve been sick right then and there, and you actually almost were. The speed your stomach dropped at this new reveltaion was enough to make you excuse yourself, hand over your mnouth, face pale. Unsure if it was due to the shock, the heartbreak, the anxiety, or maybe a mix of all there, you excuse yourself from the room. Your heart aches that you left so suddenly, but you couldn’t help this obviously. The run to the ladies room was quick, as you burst into a stall. Vomiting was never elegant, and the same was so in work. After a few moments you cleaned the corners of your mouth with a tissue before leaning back and grabbing your phone from your pocket. A text from Emily on your screen

“You okay?”

Nope. I was going to confess my love in a very embarrassing way and admit that Reid admitting he had a girlfriend made you literally, throw up from... A shitstorm of emotions. Drafting a quick excuse, you send her a message back. Within a second of your message, another agent from a desk nearby had seen you running to the bathroom, and brought you your bag as an act of kindness. She thought you might not feel well and would want something and was gone as quickly as she arrived, wishing you well. Thankful for her kindness, you quickly cleaned yourself up before grabbing your phone once more.

You love Spencer. So, so much. So much that you can't, in good conscience, work this case without fear of conflict of intrest. But not wanting to share this, you decide that food poisioniong was a better excuse and head home, apologising to the team over text, and wishing them good luck. Of course, the team were pre occupied with finding Maeve, Garcia filled you in, so there wasn't much resistence to your absence.

The speed that events transpired, however, made you relieved that you hadn't dropped the book off on spencers desk this morning.

A few hours pass after the incident, you were sitting at home watching some mind numbing reality T V Show, trying to numb the heartbreak that ached within your core. You were a few seconds away from dissasociating when there was a knock to the door. Debating the practicality of ignoring it, you decide not to thinking that it was perhaps a member of the team. You were wrong however, when you open the door to a small brunette.

"Hello?"

"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, I broke down outside and i was just wondering if I could use your phone to call roadside assitance? My phone literally just died!" She looked exhasberated, and exhausted. Taking pityyou nod and let her inside

"Sure, let me just grab it for you. You can wait in here." Turning your back on, you went to grab your phone from the sofa you had just been curled up on. Before you could take two steps, you felt a heavy weight at the back of your head.

Momentairly your vision turned black. Trying to regain your footing, you spin the meet the girl who was now holding the metalic decrative bowl that you palced your keys into. Before you could form another thought, she hit you once more. Finally knocking you out.

By the time you came to, you couldn't help but feel the hard pounding radiating through your skull. Your vision was blurry, only slightly making out some figures in front of you. One of your eyes couldn't open all the way either, as if stuck shut. Memory of your attack came back in bits, but you were unable to focus though. Definetly concussed to some degree. Slowly, you attempted to move your hand to your eye, only to discover that you were tied tightly to a chair.

After a few moments of your semi concious state, you could make out the voice of a woman in front of you.

"Y/N... Y/N wake up... Y/N?" A soft voice ushered you slowly out of you daze, and finally you focused on the woman. She was also tied up. She was brunette, with soft features that matched her voice. Weakly you aknowledged her

"Where... Where are we?"

"I... I dont know... But help is coming. I know that." You looked at her for a moment, trying to recognise her.

"How do you know my name?" Theres a resistance to your voice, though weak.

"Spencer's told me about you." She smiled, your stomach dropped.

"You're... You're Maeve?" Nodding in response, she began to speak before beiung cut off by the sudden apperance of the small brunette. She slamed the door shut before she entered. She began to bark demands, you learnt her name was Diane. She berated you about your feelings for spencer, teasing you and Maeve. Succesfully breaking your heart more.

Then, a buzzer sounded.

"Oh. Here he is now." Diane barked orders through the phone and slowly, Spencer came into view. Breath catching in your chest, you were unable to look at him, knowing he wasn't here for you. His arms up as Diane pointed her gun at him

"Im here now. We made a deal." His voice was broken. "Let them go."

"I will. But first i need you all to hear something." She reached to the table behind her, and procured a book. The very same book you had intended to give to Spencer just this morning.

"No. No that's nothing please-" You plead despertly, trying to convince the woman to have any modicum of mercy. Spencer glanced at you softly. Your beggign was interupted by Diane opening the books dedication page, that you had written a poem on

"The smell of coffee, and your furrowed brow, An instant smile that inspire, How could i ever hide my longing desire To place a kiss to that brow To fill your cup, and hold thy hand

Lounging and talking, for you do not know How dearly my love is rooted In your voice, your home, from my heart to yours Through danger, i'd die through strife i'll hold Through it all i shall hold thy hand

I'll read to you, if you'll read to me To be in your heart is a future i'd like to see So Spencer I ask, May I be yours, as you have been mine?" Diane recited. At this point, you were sobbing silently, unable to meet the gazee of anyone. Diane had a diabolical smile on her face as she teased all of you, feeling satisfied that you had been humiliated, she turned her attention to Maeve. Focusing your attention to dampen your sobs was your prioty right now. After all, Maeve wasn't the only girl here in danger.

In truth, you were foucinsing on anything other than Spencer's outpouring of love for Maeve.

Your attention was finally caught again when Diane grabbed Maeve, holding a gun to her head. Spencer pleaded for her life.

"Take me instead" He pleaded. Setting Diane off once more, in fury, holding the gun to both her and Maeves head.

You didn't expect ehr to pull the trigger.

You scremaed and tried to wiggle your way free from your constraints as the team rushed in. Spencer dropped to his knees, watching as the blood of both women combined, and slowly crept across the wooden floor. The team were in shock for a moment, before someone untied you. Quickly wisking you to an ambulance ready outside.

There were no words for the cocktail of emotions you felt. Apparently, according to Emily, Diane had decided to target you after discovering your closeness to Reid. She wanted to leave as much wreckage in her wake as possible. The team had been alerted to your dissapearance when Penelope had called you 34 times and you hadn't answered. She hacked into your doorbell camera and discovered the footage of Diane taking you, where Derek and Emily had discovered the struggle between you.

You had been assigned mandatory leave of 2 months and was thankful for the break.

A month and a half goes by wihtout a word from Spencer. Of course, you weren't surprised. After what had happened, you knew he would seclude himself. Normally, you'd would be there for him. But not now. It was imposssible for you with both the trauma of that night, and also the humiliation that your love confession was read by a psychopath who moments later, murdered his girlfriend.

You werent sure you'd ever be able to face him again.

Of course, heartbreak and trauma are never a good combonation. You had been neglecting yourself slightly, so dragging yourself to the shower felt like much more of a chore. Without dwelling on the past, the tried your best to focus on the song playing whilst you scrubbed your scalp, taking your agression out that way. When you eventually emerged from the bathroom, you put on a fresh set of pyjamas and made your way to the living room. Before you could sit, there was alight tapping on the door.

Since the incident, you were wary of unexpected visitors. Spencer would interject with a fact about PTSD and try to calm you down, but you try to shake off the thought. Instead, you do whatyou shouldve done that day, and open the phones app to look throguh the camera. There stood Spencer. Thinner, languid and visibly exhausted. A pang hit in your chest before you debated answering. Giving in though, chest hurting more at the thought of him ebing alone right now in this state.

Gingerly, you unlock the various locks you had had installed, and open the door slightly, only peeking your head out of the small gap.

"Spencer?" He looked up slowly, eyes meeting yours. His eyes were dull and red from the amount of tears you were sure he ahd shed.

"Can i come in?" His voice was weaker than youd imagined, but you stepped to the side. Once more pushing aside any of your own feelings inf avour of his, as usual.

He made his way to his usual spot on the couch, you sit on the further end, unsure where you stood with him anymore. As you sat, his eyes met yours in confusion, usually youd be sat right next to him. "Are you okay?" It seemd a silly question from him, given the current situation. All you did was nod silently in response, pulling your knees to your chin. There was a few moments of silence before Spencer toutched your arm, making you look over to meet his pleading gaze.

"Im sorry..." Was all he said. Without realising, you let out the tears you had been holding, you shook off his hand so that you coulkd wipe your eyes.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." You didn't want to have this conversation. "You didn't know."

"But-"

"You didn't know. And it doesn't matter." Your voice was more forceful than intended. This isn't a discussion you wanted to have. Not now. Not after Maeve, you weren't an emotional rebound. You weren't going to fill the void of Maeve in his heart.

"You're my friend. I was being innaprpiate im sorry. It was silly."

Spencer has a pensive look on his face, his brow furrowed but lip wobbling in an attempt to surpess your rejection.

"Y/N no, no we aren't avoiding this..." He spoke tearfully "Why did you never say anything?"

"Because there was always someone else!" You surprised yourself at your outburst. Clamping a shocked hand on your mouth you tried to hold back a loud sob. Spencer was stunned

"Someone... else?" He was confused, obviously. He never considered himself an avid dater, and you only knew about maeve fr a day before...

Plucking up any modicum of courage you had, you took a deep breath.

"Lila Archer. JJ. And..." You didn't want to speak her name, but the absence didn't dull the obvious pang to spencers heart.

"But. But they were years apart... I dont understand?"

"It takes courage spencer... And when that courage is destroyed, it takes time to build up once more..." Staring at a spot on the rug, you began absent mindendly picking at your nails, a habit you had when anxious.

Spencer noticed this and grabbed your hands to stop you. A gesture that would have comfoted you before, but now makes you jump. He holds them tightly between his and pulls you to face him.

His eyes were still pfilled with despair for Maeve but, he looked at you so, so softly. So gently that you felt your heart flutter like it did only 2 months ago.

"I wish you told me..." His voice broke, tears spilling from eyes slowly. Reanimating your own tears you begin to shake your head, pulling your hands from his and standing, walking away from him.

"No spencer... No not now... We can't." You sob. folding your arms, avoiding his stare.

He stands and rushes to your side grabbing your shoulders, making you meet his gaze once more.

"Why?" he begs "Why can't we?" His voice is broken once more "I love you, please. I love you too!"

Breaking from his hold you walk away from him once more, towards your front door.

"It isn't right Spencer..." You mutter softly "Not by you, or me... Or Maeve..." Reaching for the door handle, you take another shakey breath before pulling your front door open. "I think it's best you leave."

Spencer is silent, pleading with you to change your mind. He doesn't say a word though, simply wipes his eyes before silently walking through your door. Giving you one last despearte look before you force yourself to close the door behind him.

The rest of your leave was spent heartbroken, sobbing alone in your bed.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds prompts #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine

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sammyluvr · 2 months ago

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something about being close — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, angst, fluff, sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n, 9.5K words. requested !

summary : sam's being overprotective of you, and it leads to an argument and something more.

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket.

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger’s seat to see the sneer on your face.