#how do i subtly hint that 'hey we should hang out again like right now' lmao

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Hey, I'm microwavesofconfusion, the one who was planning on confronting the guy from D&D club. I both phrased my first comment poorly and planned poorly. I'm sorry to anyone who took offense from my behavior.

I kind of rationalized confronting him as something that would put me in the right. I originally joined D&D club to have fun playing D&D and because a lot of my friends were in it, but when I found out that he was in it, it kind of ruined a lot of the club for me. I still have fun when I'm playing in groups without him, and sometimes when I'm in groups with him, but whenever he's DMing, I (and other people, including those not in the know) have a terrible time. My school's D&D club has roughly 40 people, but only 20-25 of us sit at lunch together. I used to not sit with them (I used to sit with the band group until we broke up over an argument, but that's another story) but when a lot of my friends graduated, I began sitting with both D&D tables more often. I am genuinely friends with these people, and I love my friends very much. (I don't think that came across well in my comments). The thing is, the guy did some terrible things last year, worse things two years ago, and someone told me that he's doing those things more covertly now. Most of his friends are freshmen and sophomores (with juniors and seniors being reluctant to talk to him) because they don't know what he did. I tried talking to one of my friends about all of the stuff he did, and she sounded like she believed me, but then she invited him (well, via their mutual best friend) to the art honors society party, and she's still on good terms with him because she's never seen anything from him firsthand.

I decided that subtly dropping hints that he wasn't great until people thought about it and came to realize on their own that he wasn't a good person was the way to go, because if I try to tell people, it will become a "he said, she said" sort of thing, and people will rise to defend him. So, rather than say that he told a girl that he wanted to sexually assault her, or try to write down some of his racist jokes (which people defend anyway), I just say stuff like "isn't it weird that his girlfriend is so quiet around him" or "I didn't like how he yelled at us during the one-shot" to get people thinking. While I kind of am turning people against him, it's not empty lies. Everything I'm saying is true, and people can dismiss it as easily as they dismiss other people who tell him to stop making homophobic jokes.

It's not really a matter of whether I like him, I just think that people shouldn't be looking up to him as some sort of role model when he still does shady shit (skipping class to hang out alone in the welding room with someone else's partner is shady, whether it's cheating or not). My methods weren't great, and maybe there's a better way to go about it, but I just don't like how he's starting up again.

He did get punished for the stuff he did two years ago. He got suspended for something around the same time that he got in trouble for peeking in the girl's dressing room while the actors were changing, and he isn't a peeping Tom anymore, but he still convinces underclassmen to skip class to hang out with him, and he still sends people (who aren't his girlfriend) lewd texts, and he still discusses BDSM with anyone who has ears, but idk. How do the people of tumblr think I should have handled this situation?

For context:

[hinatastinygiant]

31 | Leaving Shadows Behind

Pairing: Mikey x Fem!Reader

Undercover Masterlist

A week later, you find yourself at a local park, accompanied by Yuzuha and Hakkai. The three of you leisurely stroll along the winding paths, relishing in the simple pleasure of each other's company. The sun casts a warm glow, creating a serenity you haven't felt in a long time.

"I need to take a break from Toman," you suddenly remember yourself telling Mikey while the two of you were sitting on the rooftop side by side. 

Sadness had flickered in Mikey's eyes, he was trying so hard to understand the importance of your decision and how much it meant to you. But he couldn't help but long for you to stay with him.

"I need to focus on the relationship I'm building with my siblings," you had explained softly. "I want to make up for the time we lost when I was all caught up in Taiju's crap."

Mikey's expression had softened after that, his genuine care for you evident in his gaze. He reached out to take your hand, offering you his support. "I understand," he replied, his voice filled with understanding. "Your family should always come first. Take all the time you need, and know that I'll be here for you."

What makes you feel sick to your stomach isn't the fact that you decided to temporarily leave Toman, but the fact that you haven't seen Mikey since that night on the rooftop. A pang of guilt washes over you as you reflect on the time that has passed. The intensity of your feelings for him lingers, and you begin to ache to be with him again.

Suddenly, you're snapped back to reality as Yuzuha waves her hand in front of your face, concern etched on her features. "Hey, are you alright?" she asks, her voice filled with genuine worry. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

Hakkai then joins in, his eyes reflecting the same concern. "What's going on, Y/N? Is something bothering you?"

You take a deep breath, mustering a smile to reassure them. "I'm okay, really," you reply, your voice tinged with a hint of unease. "Just lost in thought, I guess. Let's keep walking. Hakkai, weren't you saying something about going back to school?" you inquire, hoping to shift the focus to something positive.

Hakkai's eyes light up and a smile grows on his face as he begins to open up about his plans. He had initially put everything on hold when he joined the Black Dragons, but now he'd determined to make a difference in the community, just like Mikey. He begins to talk about wanting to study social work or something related, to help those who are struggling and create a better future for everyone.

Yuzuha curiously then chimes in, asking, "What's going to happen to the Black Dragons now?" 

Hakkai pauses for a moment, contemplating his response. "Well, I think that-" he begins, but before he can answer, you quickly interject, caution in your voice.

"Let's not discuss that here, Hakkai," you say, mindful of the potential risks of discussing such matters in public. "It's better to keep things low-key for now, you know? We don't want to draw any unnecessary attention when nothing's even certain yet."

"Yeah, you're right. Sorry," Yuzuha smiles softly.

"It's alright. Anyway, back to what you were saying, Hakkai... Do you know what you're going to study? Social work?"

"Uhh, I'm not really sure yet..." he answers nervously, much to your surprise. "I haven't had too much time to think of it and I'm still kind of exploring my options," he confesses. "But I know I want to make a positive impact. I'll figure it out along the way."

With a supporting smile, you assure him that he has plenty of time to discover his true calling. For now, focusing on his decision to return to school and pursue his dreams is a step in the right direction.

"Hey, Yuzuha," Hakkai then changes the subject quickly, "What do you plan on doing now?"

His question hangs in the air, and for a moment, you exchange a knowing glance with him. You shake your head subtly, indicating that Yuzuha probably doesn't want to talk about her plans. She's been just doing odd jobs for the longest time and has expressed multiple times that she hates it. Hakkai's confusion is evident as he silently mouths the word "what?"

Yuzuha hesitates for a moment, her eyes darting between you and Hakkai, before finally speaking up. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you guys about that. Mitsuya approached me recently and offered me a job in his clothing design company. I'll be working as the marketing person, responsible for promoting Mitsuya's designs and ensuring that the word gets out to people who might be interested. I'm actually really excited about this opportunity."

Hakkai beams with pride as he listens to Yuzuha talk. "Wow, Yuzuha, that's amazing! I'm so proud of you."

You can't help but feel a swell of happiness for your sister. The strides she has taken and the new path she's beginning fill you with pride. Hakkai's genuine support only adds to the joy of the moment.

Soon enough, Hakkai spots an ice cream truck parked nearby. His eyes light up with delight as he says, "You know what? This calls for a celebration. I see an ice cream truck over there. Let's all get something!"

"Oh, I don't know," you shake your head, so used to being extremely cautious with your money.

"Come on, Y/N. We've got the money for it now," he then tells you before taking both you and Yuzuha by the hand and pulling you over toward the truck. 

The genuine smiles lighting up their faces tug at your heartstrings, an overwhelming surge of emotion filling your eyes with tears. The happiness radiating from your siblings is like priceless treasures, ones you wouldn't trade for the world. And in this moment, surrounded by the simple joy of shared ice cream and the warmth of your siblings' presence, you realize that there's nothing more precious than the happiness of those you hold dear.

Undercover Masterlist

[kyanitesaphire]

Lightning In A Bottle chapter 6

The ride share beheading case in Boston had come to a successful end, and although he was sure to text Éclair from time to time while away, Spencer missed her. He took a seat alone in the back of the Jet, pulled up her contact information on his phone, and called her. The line only rang twice before her excited voice blessed his ear.

“Hey Spencer! How’s your work going?” She asked eagerly.

“Uh, good. We’re on our way back home now actually.” Spencer replied trying to keep his voice down and avoid drawing the attention of his fellow teammates.

“Oh! So you caught the bad guy and saved the day? That’s wonderful!” she rejoiced.

“Yeah, so listen, um….I was wondering, once I get back, did you maybe want to go out for a proper date?” he asked timidly.

“Sounds great! Did you have something in mind?” she acquiesced without hesitation. Her eagerness did much to ease his nervousness.

“I hadn’t really settled on one thing yet. I was still deciding between coffee or dinner. Unless there was something you had in mind.”

“ Those both sound good, we could do both if we went to a diner! Maybe even have breakfast for dinner with pancakes or waffles topped with whipped cream and fruit. Or we could go to a movie, and if the movie sucks we could just make out.” Éclair mused playfully. Her bold suggestion of going to the cinema for the almost sole intention of physical intimacy made his cheeks burn among other things. He subtly cleared his throat before speaking again.

“While the second option sounds… appealing… I think for tonight we should go with the first option.” Spencer replied.

“Your probably right.” She chuckled. “As much as I would absolutely love an encore of the other day, now that I’ve mentioned waffles, I’ve really got a hankering for them.”

“Than waffles you shall have.” He decreed while the indelible blush grew a few shades darker. He could hear Éclair squeal with excitement and he took a moment to relish in the sounds of her unabashed glee. “So I’ll pick you up from your place?”

“Sounds great! Text me when your on your way.” She squeaked cheerfully before hanging up.

On the other end of the Jet, the rest of the team quietly discussed Spencer’s less than covert conversation.

“He does realize he’s not fooling anyone here, right?” Rossi asked the group.

“Kid's just lookin for some privacy while he talks to his Honey.” Derek said with a side cocked smirk, displaying his brilliant white teeth.

“ She’s his honey now?” JJ remarked with slight surprise.

“He hasn’t come out and said it but come on. He thought no one saw it but I caught him texting her a few times as we were driving between sites. When has Reid been known to text anyone?” Derek explained to which JJ’s eyes widened and jaw dropped slightly.

“Reid has always kept his personal life very private, and I think it’s best we respect that.” Hotch advised with a hint of reprimand in his voice. “ But it’s nice that he’s finally met someone.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Rossi agreed raising his scotch and the others followed suit raising their own drinks.

Spencer fiddled with the buttons and seams of his long wool coat anxiously as he waited for Éclair to answer the door, but those anxieties quickly melted away with the warmth of her smile as she greeted him. It was clear Yen had a hand in getting her ready but the look suited Éclair’s style well. Her hair was lightly curled, the top portion was tied up in two sections with ribbons like half pigtails and her bells were fed through the ribbons as well. She wore a knee length flowy skirt and a fitted ¾ sleeve off the shoulder shirt. She also wasn’t wearing her usual clunky boots, instead she had on a pair of small dance heels. She grabbed her sweater and quickly slipped out of the house closing the door behind her.

“Alright, let’s get out of here shall we?” she urged grabbing Spencer’s hand.

“let’s, yes.” He managed to choke out. He lead her down to his antiquated Volvo and helped her into the passenger seat.

On the drive to the diner, Spencer told Éclair all about the case he’d just gotten back from and how he and his team tracked down the unsub. Éclair hung on his every word, enthralled by every detail. She wanted to know all about his job, and the more he talked about his coworkers and how they were like family to him, the more she wanted to get to know them too. She urged him to tell her more anecdotes of his relationship with them while over their waffle dinner, to which he obliged.

“I hope to have people like that in my life someday.” She said wistfully. “They sound amazing.”

“ They are,” He agreed . “and I know we’ve only known each other a few days, but some of them already want to meet you.”

“ Really?” She gasped excitedly.

“Yeah, mainly Garcia. She likes to know everything that happens in her friends lives. The others are mostly curious because it’s not often I have any romantic prospects in my life.” He explained as he finished off his meal.

“Mnn! Speaking of,” Éclair began as she worked to quickly swallow the mouthful of berries and whipped cream she had just shoveled in. “ so it seems Tyler and Nikki have some kind of wager going with some of the other staff at the coffee shop.”

“Oh? What about?” Spencer asked worriedly.

“Us. Some of them think we’ll be an item if we’re not already, others think I came on so strong that I probably scared you off.” She divulged, stirring her strawberry milkshake with her straw. Had Spencer still been eating, he would have choked at her words. He guppied for a brief moment as he tried to formulate the best response.

“Well, clearly you haven’t scared me off.” He started slowly, clearing his throat. “As to the first part…umm… is that something you’d be interested in?” Éclair took a long pensive sip of her shake, starring into Spencer’s eyes as she did before replying.

“Part of me kinna already thought of you as such. I know that’s supposed to be something that’s agreed upon, like what’s happening now I guess. I just don’t really understand the whole ‘ it’s complicated/ we’re not putting a label on things yet’ mentality other people have.”

“Oh thank God, it’s not just me.” Spencer half sighed half groaned in relief. “ I mean I understand some people have one night stands and friends with benefits arrangements but this whole dating without dating thing is beyond confusing.”

“I’ve heard the argument of ‘ what if it doesn’t work out?’ you break up obviously. How do you end something you never put a name to? That just makes things more complicated than they already are.” Éclair concurred with Spencer’s sentiments. “How about you? Do you want to make things official as they say?” A smile slowly crept across Spencer’s lips and a light blush dusted his cheeks.

“I’d like that very much.” He replied. Éclair beamed and bounced in her seat joyfully, he bells chiming away as she did.

As they left the diner, Éclair held Spencer’s hand and did a similar skipping dance to the one she did the day they met, like she was being moved by a song only she could hear. Spencer knew all too well how fleeting blissful moments like this can be, so he made sure to commit every detail to memory. The way her hair bounced about her bare shoulders, how her skirt swayed about her in the breeze, even the Pavlovian response he experienced at the sound of her bells.

“Oh! We should take a picture!” Éclair said abruptly turning to face Spencer and colliding into him. “ After all, today is kind of a big deal!”

“Absolutely! This is your first date isn’t it?” Spencer wrapped his arm around her waist and ushered her out of oncoming traffic and back to his car.

“Yup!” She cheered “ That’s why Yen went all out on getting me all dolled up for tonight.”

“Well she did a wonderful job. Let’s not let all that effort go to waste.” Éclair pressed her back against Spencer’s chest and he wrapped both arms around her midsection as she set her phone’s camera to selfie mode and took a picture of the two of them. Once the moment was immortalized digitally on her phone, she reached her hand behind his neck, craned her head back and kissed him. He relished in the sweet taste of strawberries and whipped cream on her tongue as deepened and reciprocated the kiss. Alas the moment of intimacy was cut short when some rowdy passengers in a passing vehicle wolf whistled and yelled out at them to get a room. Éclair was about to confront them but Spencer held her back.

“ It’s OK. This isn’t exactly the best place for this anyway. Let’s get you home, and we can pick this up another time.” He said opening the car door for her.

“Promise?” She pleaded seductively, giving his tie a slight tug towards her.

“ Did I miss your curfew or something? Are you late for you meds?” Spencer chuckled as he helped her into his car and slipped his tie out from her grasp.

“No silly! I took my meds before we left my place. Why do you ask?”

“I guess I’m just not used to this.” Spencer began to grow concerned he may have offended her with his jest.

“What? Having a girlfriend? Or being wanted?” She asked playfully.

“Both I suppose.” He replied in an almost bittersweet tone. “ But I’m sure I’ll adjust quickly.” He added with a wink before closing the car door.

“So the other day I met some people who say they knew me from before I lost my memory, but Lurch thinks I shouldn’t trust them.” Éclair explained as Spencer buckled himself into the driver’s seat and started the car.

“And what do you think? Have they given you reason to doubt them?”

“I don’t know. They seem reluctant to trust anyone, but then again I should be the same way.” Éclair considered her dilemma.

“Well, when we met, you mentioned you tend to have a sense when someone is untrustworthy or wants to harm you. Has that sense ever failed you?” Spencer asked.

“No, but then again I haven’t exactly had much of a chance for it to fail me. Lurch thinks I’m just too trusting because I haven’t felt the sting of betrayal yet, and I would be better off not to put so much blind faith in people.” She answered somewhat woefully. Spencer considered his response carefully.

“ I understand where he’s coming from. The feeling of having your trust violated is painful and something I would never want you to experience yourself. At the same time, having a mindset of trust no one so you’ll never be let down is a lonely way to live.” He said. “In my line of work, I see the worst of humanity, the dark ugly side of people. Our tech analyst Garcia likes to see the good in people. She hates knowing the horrible things we deal with day in and day out. But no matter how much evil my team and I see, and how awful I know people can be, we would never want her to lose that faith in humanity that she has. It reminds us of all the good in the world, and of what we’re protecting when we’re out there.”

“So do you think I should trust them?” She inquired as she reflected on what he’d said.

“I think you should be cautious, but I also think you should give them a chance to earn your trust, rather than assume they are unworthy of it. And if they do in fact know something about your past, wouldn’t you want to hear them out?” Spencer stated. Éclair thought about the advice given to her, considering it carefully.

Spencer walked Éclair up to her door but neither of them were in any rush to part ways.

“ I had a great time tonight. This was a wonderful first date.” Éclair praised as she ran her hands up Spencer’s chest and rested them on his shoulders.

“ Yeah, it was nice to be out with a sweet beautiful woman and not have a gun pointed at me under the table most of the night.” Spencer agreed.

“ That sounds specific. I take it there’s a story there?” She mused.

“There is. It was an undercover operation, and an experience I’d like to avoid repeating.”

“ Well maybe you can tell me all about it on our next date.”

“I like the sound of a ‘next date’” He said as he caressed her cheek.

“Me too. But for us to have a second date we kinna have to wrap up the first one. So how about we end it on high note.” She pulled him toward her so he had her pinned against the door and kissed him with intense vigor, rooting her fingers into his earthy brown hair. If it weren’t for his impeccable memory, he could almost forget she was still dressed as he ran his hands along the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders. He took particular note of how she let out a barely audible whimpering moan as his finger tips grazed along one spot of her neck just below her left ear.

Their sensual exchange was again interrupted, this time by Éclair’s phone going off.

“It’s DD. Probably making sure I’m still going to meet with him tomorrow.” She said looking at the screen.

“Than you should take the call. I’ll let you get to it. Call me if you need me Friday.” Spencer said sweetly, taking a step back “Goodnight Éclair.” Éclair blew him a kiss and mouthed a goodnight as she answered her phone and went into the house.

During the brief walk to his car, Spencer gained an added appreciation for the length of this coat.

[andthemoonwalks]

.

[kusaka6e]

FAKE BOYFRIEND

ts!kazutora x fem!reader

sfw

———

he noticed you from across the room right away. something about you stood out, but he didn’t know if it was a good thing.

you seemed to be engrossed in conversation with another guy, but the uncomfortable look on your face didn’t sit well with kazutora.

“n-no really, i’m good.”

“cmon princess, what’s the harm in one drink?”

can this guy get the fuck away from me?

you’d decided to dress nice and take yourself out, but that plan was quickly backfiring as some stranger could not take a hint to save his life.

chifuyu and baji noticed kazutora’s distracted attitude, chifuyu finally noticing where kazutora kept glancing.

his face stayed stoic, grimacing as he downed another shot with his friends.

“tora, maybe don’t kill him? we do not have bail money for you right now.”

“she’s obviously uncomfortable.”

kazutora stayed to himself, keeping a watchful eye from afar. but his blood boiled every minute you had to stay near some stubborn stranger.

“look, i’m sure you’re cool and all, but i have a boyfriend.”

“and? what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” he gave you a sleazy grin, running a hand up your waist as you uncomfortably shrink away.

“okay, that’s it. hold my drink.” kazutora shoved his drink in baji’s hand, quickly making his way over to you.

“hey, sorry i’m late honey. everything okay?” you whip around as you hear a voice from behind you, face scrunching momentarily before you realize what he’s doing.

“hey! i’m so glad you’re here.”

“this is your boyfriend? like he’s gonna stop me.”

“touch her again and i’ll kill you.” the venom in his voice makes even you falter, going with the act as he carefully puts an arm around your shoulders to lead you away.

once you’re a safe distance away, he turns to look at you, big eyes filled with concern.

“are you alright?”

“thanks to you i am. i really appreciate it.” you subtly look him up and down, amazed at how pretty he is up close.

“it’s no problem at all.”

“kazutora! where’d you go man?!” chifuyu rushes up to the both of you, giving kazutora a smirk after seeing you.

“just took care of something real quick.”

“i’m chifuyu, by the way. nice to meet you.”

“i’m (l/n).”

you end up spending the rest of the night with kazutora and his friends, finding that the three were incredibly funny and a lot of fun to hang out with.

kazutora waits outside with you for your uber, sad his time with you that night is coming to an end.

“thank you again, kazutora.”

“it’s no big deal, really. guy was an asshole.”

there’s a moment of silence before he pulls out his phone, tapping it a few times before holding it out to you.

“you should text me sometime. maybe we can go out as an actual couple, instead of faking it to ward off creeps.”

you grin, nodding as you type in your phone number and putting his number in your phone.

you frown as you see the car picking you up arrive, turning to bid your goodbyes to your new friends.

“see you next time, (l/n).” the wink he shoots you makes your heart skip a beat, subtly looking at him until he’s out of your sight as the car drives away.

[lunaastoir]

Hi! I really enjoy your writing so is it alright if i request xiao, diluc, childe with an idol s/o where one of their old stalkers come back or they just recently had a stalker in general but with how busy they were since they’re an idol they don’t even notice? And something bad happens (i cant think of anything</3) Thank you very much !!

hi anon!! a million apologies since this is so late but i hope you like the fic <3

there also aren’t any explicit details for anything bad happening - i briefly touched on subjects that you may not have control over, i hope that’s ok! 

warning (?): struggled a bit on this prompt so i apologize in advance if this isn’t my best work LMAOO

gn! reader

tw: hints of assault, slight angst, very light abuse if you squint

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

xiao

now xiao is a very observant man but he's also extremely busy keeping liyue safe

he makes it a point to always come to your shows even if you don't actively see him bc he cares a lot abt you and he enjoys listening to your music ‼️

it's normal for him to sometimes get lost between his own world of demonslaying and the world he shares w you

so one night, he's hanging on the rafters of a house with the perfect view of your singing

everything goes smoothly, he sets his spear down while lightly swaying his head to the music

the concert ends and fans disperse after you say your farewells

a night like this is rare since for once, xiao can walk home w you back to the inn sweet boy really cleared out his schedule for you huh

you're unsurprised when you see him materialize next to you, opting to flash him a smile and a hello

his cheeks are lightly flushed as he crosses his arms before talking quietly about how well you did

he relishes in the wide smile you give him as a result of his praise and he lets the corners of his lips curve upwards slightly

the quiet bustle of the harbor seemed to slow down as the night grew longer

since this was a fairly large concert, you had boxes among boxes of equipment so xiao decided to make your life easier by quickly flying them to their appropriate locations

when he got back however, he was surprised to see you talking animatedly with someone

he didn't think anything was wrong until he saw the person trap you between the stage and words filtered into his ears

your back was painfully pressed against the stage wall as you defiantly met their gaze. after xiao had left, they had immediately come over to you: first introducing themselves as a fan and making amiable conversation, before divulging in personal details of your life that made your skin crawl. you weren’t helpless, you always had your weapon on hand regardless of whether you were performing or not. the way they pushed you against the wall however, made it near impossible to summon your sword should you need it. 

they leered down at you while balancing an arm against the wall next to your head. you had dealt with things like this before so you weren’t overly worried; you could defend yourself. you almost felt pity for the person in front of you as they asked for your number with a sadistic grin, disgusting words tumbling off of their lips. however, that was before you felt their cold fingers idly make their way to your stomach and you felt your breath hitch. oh no

the telltale sound of whooshing alerted you of xiao’s presence, and the press of the tip of his spear against their jugular brought you relief. 

“back away” he tightly growled while his golden eyes narrowed into slits. they stared at him in shock before holding their hands up and moving to step a foot away from you. 

“farther” he motioned with his spear before stepping in front of you as you attempted to collect yourself. 

“ok ok, i’m far away can you put your spear down now?” 

“no.” 

you mentally cursed as you watched the two of them glare at each other. this was supposed to be a carefree night but this unfortunate twist made the air thick with tension. you could feel the anger radiate off of xiao in waves and in an effort to deescalate the situation, you spoke. 

“i’m glad to meet such an...avid fan but i’m sorry the two of us must get going now” you hastily said before attempting to grab xiao’s hand and walk off past them. 

the next words had you halt your steps as they divulged their secret. 

words painted in careless arrogance with hints of violet overconfidence flew out of the person’s mouth - “judging from the weeks i’ve been following you, it didn’t seem like you had a boyfriend”

at the mere mention of prolonged stalking, xiao immediately lunged to pull you behind him. god, he didn’t kill mortals but he swore if he plunged his spear into this human being right here, no one would even blink twice considering how low of a person they were. 

“if i ever see you near them again, i will not hesitate to kill you. i won’t blink twice, i already have blood on my hands.” he ground out.

at the threat, the person grudgingly turned their back to you before leaving the two of you alone in the quiet harbor. 

you carefully reached a hand out to touch your boyfriend’s shoulder, but stopped after you saw the expression on his face. the mix of rage, sadness, and anguish imprinted his features as you watched his chest rapidly rise and fall - a result of his emotional battle. 

“i’m sorry i didn’t notice them before. i should’ve been paying more attention to you” he whispered before silently striding away from your grasp 

you knew that no matter how many reassurances you gave him about how, “it’s not your fault xiao, i didn’t notice them either” he would still blame himself. 

he was supposed to protect you right? so why couldn’t he sense the danger beforehand? what would’ve happened if he wasn’t there?

it’s still a learning process for him to realize that things happen, and he inevitably couldn’t be there to save you from everything. he needs time to understand and adjust. you’re willing to wait, patiently helping him through it. why? because love is worth it. 

god im sorry this ended up kinda sad whoops

diluc 

i swear everytime i say i’m a childe simp diluc kinda wrecks me

ahem anyways onto the hc!

he’s kinda never around but similar to xiao he will overwork himself to clear out an hour or two just to watch your concerts 

he’ll always stand off to the side too so if you tilt your head while you’re singing you can spy his red hair 

you always flash him the sweetest smile and this man blushes like CRAZY before quickly lifting his hand up to give you a thumbs up 

everyone watching the both of you like 😍😦

people think it’s the cutest thing i swear like c’mon the elusive “bachelor of mondstadt” being seen in public supporting you??? wow pls can we share him

he walks with you back to the winery, the entire time linking his hands with yours while gushing about your performance 

1939248/10 it’s literally the sweetest thing 

the next day however, adelinde brings you a pink letter addressed to you 

he doesn’t pry because it’s addressed to you and it’s your business but as the letters start coming by everyday, he starts to grow curious 

one day he straight up just asks you about it

“hey, you know those pink letters you keep getting? who are they from?”

you laugh slightly at his bashfulness and respond with a “just some overexcited fan” and he smiles before kissing your forehead 

he loves that people are noticing your talent 

loves it! until you get stalked by the same person who wrote you those letters while you were shopping!

diluc knows something’s wrong when you rush into angel’s share panicked after not returning his usual smile. 

“darling? are you ok?” he asks worriedly before quickly setting down the glass he was cleaning to move towards you. 

the widening of your eyes as you looked behind you at the sounds of someone else entering was all he needed to swiftly step in front of you, blocking their gaze of your face. 

the slightly panicked look in your eyes before you hurriedly whispered, “they’re following me” made diluc glance at them subtly out of the corner of his eye. he watched as they walked over to find a seat next to the bar, seemingly ready to order a drink. he quietly asked if you would like to sit in the room reserved for the employees, away from their prying eyes. your hasty nod was all the confirmation he needed for him to let you access the door behind him. 

the night went by fairly smoothly with kaeya’s usual teasing and venti’s usual begging for alcohol. diluc’s eyes narrowed however, when the person seemed to ask him questions regarding you. things like, “i heard you’re dating y/n... they’re amazing, how long have you been together?” and “do they live with you at dawn winery?” diluc answered these questions as short as he could, trying to convey with his body language that he truly did not want to talk to them. 

everything was going well until he made the mistake of leaving the bar unattended. he had briefly forgotten about your residence in the room behind him as his mind immediately gravitated to breaking up a brawl. when he returned, the half drunk glass of liquor combined with the person’s absence from their seat, caused sparks of worry to light up inside his chest. 

turning to the door, he knocked once. 

“is everything alright in there love?”

the sounds of things rustling about and the occasional muffled voice had him opening the door quickly. he saw you with your arm being held tightly in their grasp, your mouth muffled with their hand, while you strained against them by pulling at your arm. 

diluc immediately made his way over to you, quickly pulling your arm away before letting you enter into his embrace. 

“get out.” the venomous words clawed their way out of his throat as he looked at them with eyes that screamed hatred. his blood was boiling as his mind replayed the scene; your scared expression and their greedy eyes. 

diluc didn’t need to repeat himself twice as they ran out, trying not to trip over crates of wine. he made a mental note to find out who they were in order to make sure they never came near you ever again. 

he quickly looked down at your form, relaxing slightly at the sight of your tentative smile. “my knight in shining armor” you joked before softly nuzzling your head into his shoulder. the anger had yet to dissipate from his veins, and although he knew you were still shaken up, he was sure you would be fine. 

a pink letter placed on the table next to you caught his eye, and he made sure to quickly pocket it as he led you out, gently jesting with you about the “unnecessary amount of wine barrels in here, diluc this is a safety hazard!” 

he would deal with this person later. 

childe

ayo AYO ITS THE TOY SALESMAN

ok tbh he’s very rarely around so he unfortunately cannot make it to all of your shows 

dw tho, he will try his hardest to be there for the ones he’s in town for bc what is he if not your number one hype king??? 

ok kinda creepy! alert 

he’s tasked two of his subordinates to keep watch over you whenever he’s out of the harbor

it’s not anything creepy,,, he just gets extremely worried abt you and wants to make sure you’re safe 

sO when he gets a ransom note??? he’s understandably confused but also very much freaked out 

bc did they not know who he was??? the fact that they thought they could get away with holding you captive was quite honestly kind of funny to him 

very stressed and angry tho - hides it behind a facade of smiles but he’s raging 

takes him only a few hours to track you down bc he had everyone and i mean EVERYONE looking for you 

the note crunched in his hand as the harbinger made his way towards windrise. his pace was erratic, long legs rushing towards the small cave his agents had found. they were bordering the perimeter of the enclosure, careful to not alert you or your captor of their presence. childe’s subordinate head had calmly stated that childe need not come out to rescue you, the situation was under control and they could do it for him. however, childe’s sharp gaze along with his sickly sweet words of “thanks but no. i’m coming out to see this sorry asshole for myself” had the agent backing away apologizing. he wanted to see the look on this person’s face before he shoved their sorry ass into the abyss himself. 

as he reached the opening of the cave, he glanced over his shoulder at his head agent; a silent warning to keep the area sealed. his blue eyes glinted with a thirst for blood before making his way into the cave, sealing off the exit with his body. 

“well well, playing games with the love of my life are we?” 

his teasing words reached your ears as your eyes immediately found the face of your boyfriend. you weren’t horribly scared, just a little shaken up and sore from the bindings on your wrists. relief coursed through your body at the sight of him. you needn’t put in your plan of getting out of these bindings to fight your captor yourself anymore. 

childe’s eyes quickly scanned over your frame, making sure you weren’t hurt. at the state of you completely unharmed, the harbinger let his heart calm down slightly. you were completely ok. 

“wait a little longer, love? i promise this will be over soon”

the wink he sent you had you lightly rolling your eyes at his antics before he directed his attention back to your kidnapper. if your captor wasn’t scared before, they were certainly shaking in their boots now at the sight of childe’s twin hydro blades rotating playfully in his hands. 

“listen, all i want is the money-”

“and all i want is your head” 

your boyfriend smiled after cutting them off. the severity of the situation truly seemed to sink in at that moment before pleas of mercy fell from your captor’s lips, desperate to escape the bloodthirsty gaze of the harbinger. childe’s eyes flickered over to yours where you sat there, with your head ferociously shaking. a silent “no.” he sighed before swiftly bringing his arm up to hit your captor on the head, effectively knocking them out cold. 

his hands worked at the ropes holding you and he gingerly rubbed at your bruised wrists. you silently thanked the archons he could never say no to you. archons forbid what would've happened if you hadn’t said anything. while you were explaining what happened, the young man quickly scooped you up in his arms before walking out of the cave. 

you playfully hit his shoulder while muttering “drama queen” but you stopped when you saw his face morph into an expression of seriousness. you had informed him on the situation about your captor revealing themselves to be a recent stalker of yours, completely oblivious to the look of frustration on his face as he freed you from your bondages. 

“i was scared you know.” he quietly divulged. “i knew that it wasn’t anything extremely serious but i... i was still scared”

you swore as you looked at him in that moment, he had turned ten again. the youth of his face betraying his vulnerability. 

you quietly hummed before tangling your fingers in his hair. “i hope you know it wasn’t your fault. it wasn’t anyone’s fault. not even the two fatui agents who you sent to stalk me while you were away.”

he quietly laughed at that before mentally filing away a reminder for a lecture to those two agents in the near future. 

“i’m just glad you’re safe. i know you can save yourself but i’ll always be here. i still wish you would let me take care of your asshole kidnapper myself though.” he pouted jokingly. 

“i’m sure the millelith will lock them up for a long time.” you laughed sweetly. 

his usual smile reappeared at your antics. maybe he didn’t get to beat your captor up and do...much worse. however at the end of the day, your smile was still intact regardless of what happened. that’s all he wanted. 

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Aaron Hotchner / Is That An Order?

Summary: you see Aaron in his FBI vest after he comes back from a call -- and it gives you both some ideas. 

Prompts: The Vest Hotch Fic™ 

Word count: 4,035

Warnings: Explicit (minors DNI), oral (m receiving), fingering, thigh riding,  dom! hotch (but he’s still soft), door sex, voyeurism, reader has a V (no pronouns), light choking, slighttttt watch kink, just smut, 

“Hey you,” Penelope sticks her head into Aaron’s office, a smile on her lips,  “looking for Hotch?” 

You nod, checking your watch — taunting you as it flashed a time nearly to midnight—  as Garcia sits beside you, “We were supposed to grab dinner — a late dinner about two hours ago — I assume something came up?” 

“They went out on a call a while ago — they should be back soon,” you furrow your brow, pressing your fist to your lips, “don’t worry, I already heard from them — they are going to be on their way back.” 

You roll your eyes, “You’ve been spending too much time with profilers, Pen,” 

“What’s new?” you laugh, just as there’s a knock at the door, Aaron standing in the doorway, his vest still on, gun in its holster. 

“Sir,” Penelope gets to her feet, the two speaking about the case, but you were much too distracted to hear what they said. 

Your eyes raked over him. Much too distracted. 

The blue vest slipped tight over his white button-up, his muscles straining against the woven fibres, his arms folded across his chest — the same you wanted splayed across your body as he fucked you, just as he did the night before. 

It should be illegal to look that good in what was essentially a government mandated (life saving) uniform. 

Penelope waves a hand in front of your face and you snap back to reality, and she tilts her head, “I’ll see you later, okay?” 

Your face burns — unable to meet Aaron’s gaze that caressed you slowly, , “Yeah, are we still on for Saturday?” Penelope nods, bidding you both goodbye, slipping from the office, the door clicking behind her. 

Aaron slips next to you on the couch, “Sorry I’m late,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, pressing his head against yours, as your palm cupped his cheek, relaxing under your touch, “Did we miss—” You show him your watch, and he sighs, brow wrinkling, “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, I’m not upset,” you pressed a kiss to his lips, “we can always reschedule for tomorrow night with Jack. We can always do takeout tonight.” 

“I know — but this was supposed to be our night alone,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss right behind your ear, his words reverberating against your skin, “I wanted it to be special.” 

“It still can be,” you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling back to look at him, his gaze soft, “Would it be incredibly corny to say any night with you special?” 

He laughs, your chest squeezing, swelling with gentle pride that you were the one to make him make that beautiful noise, “Very,”

And he kisses you, his hand curling around the back of your neck to pull you closer, and your hand presses against his chest, feeling the muscle under the coarse fabric of the vest. And you lean into him, palms flat against the vest, “Did you keep this on for any reason?” 

You’re far too obvious and he’s far too astute — just as you intended. And he leans back, his breath warm against your lips, “Didn’t get a chance to change — my bag is in here,” you bite your lip, eyes roving the expanse of his chest wrapped in the material, tracing the letters written in white, and his fingers tilt your chin back up, molten eyes that make you squirm, “do you like what you see, sweetheart?” 

You lean closer, noses brushing, palms now curving around his shoulders, against the straps of the vest, “And what if I said I did?” 

~~~

“Strip,” Aaron orders, and you blink, as the light turns green, the car begins to roll forward again on this empty road ahead of you. The streets were mostly deserted now, the hour much too late for traffic and the streets barely illuminated by dimming street lamps — you could thank the great city of D.C. for that.

You tilt your head, “What?” 

His fingers flex over the steering wheel, his watch gleaming in the hint of light the moon shone onto the console, “I gave you an order,” 

Well this was new. 

His eyes snap over to yours, softening for a split second as if to ask for silent permission to continue, “I said strip.” 

And you bite back your smile, he’s still just as soft as always. 

You do as he says, stripping down — your shirt slipping over your head easily, your pants were next, pausing to look around — the road was empty and barren, no — nothing but the road stretching out. But right now the thick heat of the summer wasn’t the thing that was making you shift your seat, no it’s how he watches you out of the corner of his eye, his gaze utterly dark, dark you can only assume with thoughts of what he would do to you if he wasn’t driving. 

Now you’re in your underwear, squirming under his steady gaze, as he rolls to a stop at a redlight. And he looks at you now, as you part your thighs for him, appreciating how his eyes linger where your underwear has a dark patch, and he clears his throat. 

“Touch yourself,” his voice is thick as molasses, rich and dark, sending a shiver down your spine. 

You raise an eyebrow, “Is that an order, sir?” 

“It wasn’t a question, sweetheart,” and you oblige, pulling down your underwear around your ankles, spreading yourself with your fingers to begin, tips of your fingers circling your entrance, your eyes fluttering, until a flash of green catches your attention. 

“It’s green,” you gasp, choosing that moment to sink a finger into yourself, knuckle deep, and you see his grip on the wheel flex again, as if he’s barely holding himself back, “the light, sir.” 

His eyes flicker back to the road, and he hits the accelerator, continuing on the road, eyes flickering over to you, unable to completely tear himself away. You had sunk another finger into yourself, slowly thrusting, eyes fluttering shut as you imagined it was his fingers, your hips already rolling against your touch, imagining it was his fingers instead, his knee between your legs spreading you wider — muttering filthy nothings in your ear—- 

“Sir, please—” 

“What do you want?” 

Your gaze flickers to him, leaning against the headrest,  “Something— say something—” 

Another red light, and your eyes flutter open, his features cast in a red glow, his jaw set, “Not yet,” and you whine, long and high, his brow arching at the pathetic noise that left your lips, his eyes remain on the road, but you see him stealing glances out of the corner of his eye, “have you earned it?” 

You grit your teeth, your fingers still pressing insistently, your thumb brushing your clit, and your walls flutter with the promise of an orgasm — a moan rips from your throat. And then you see him — he shifts, oh so subtly adjusting himself, but you know you have him. 

You would earn it  — you bite your smile back, waiting patiently for the light to turn green — and he would have to just watch. 

Green. 

That’s when you start fucking yourself in earnest, a third finger slipping into your wet cunt, and you knew he could hear just how wet you were for him, your sounds filling the silence of the car. Your fingers dripped the armrests of the carseat, nails digging into plush material, as you braced your legs for even a little more leverage, a little more to get off too. 

And even though he refused to run his mouth, you did— 

“Fuck, your fingers would be thicker than mine, so good rubbing against my clit right now—” you give a needy sigh, as your thumb swipes against your clit again, circling around right where you wanted it. You felt the car pick up speed, rushing, pushing to get back faster, and you knew he was close, even as the car rolled to another stop at a red light. 

He growls your name, swallowing thickly, and you catch a glimpse of his fingers digging into the leather of the armrest. 

“You fuck me better than I can fuck myself. God, I’m dripping for you, can you hear it? I need you, Aaron,” and your eyes flutter open, your mouth hanging open, meeting his half lidded eyes as he watches you — a heat so molten that it begins to prod you over the edge, your thumb pressing against your clit in tight circles, “Fuck. Aaron— Sir, I’m close.” 

“Stop,” he orders, cutting through your euphoria, and your fingers slow, “you don’t cum until I tell you can.” 

“I don’t care,” you whine, your fingers beginning to move, but he grabs your wrist, tightly, being careful when he pulls your fingers from you. Your fingers are shiny, wet with the beginnings of your orgasm. His eyes narrow as he looks at them, his tongue darting across his lips, and you can almost those lips wrapped your fingers, sucking your cum from the tips of your fingers as his tongue circled— 

He offers your fingers to you, “Suck,” he tells you, his attention split between you and the red light, and you ached at the emptiness, squirming, “I gave you an order—” 

Green light. 

You place your fingers in your mouth, your taste dancing across your tongue as he watches you, and you make a show of it — swirling your tongue around your fingers, sloppily sucking at them, imagining it was his cock instead. Your pussy throbbed, and you were sure you were going to leave a wet spot on the seat. You pulled your fingers out with a pop, just as he hit another red light. 

In a moment, his fingers wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you into a bruising kiss that stole the air from your chest. His teeth graze your bottom lip harshly, before his tongue slips into your mouth, tasting you on your tongue. Your fingers fist in his shirt, tugging him closer over the console, his name leaving your mouth in a whimper. 

And he snaps. He pulls away from you, a protest stuck in the back of your throat, until he pulls into his driveway, “Sir—” 

He pushes his seat back, undoing his seatbelt, and he leans over, gripping the back of your neck again, “I’m going to fuck you in this seat, sweetheart,” he kisses you again, brusingly rough, as his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you up. Your back arched, hunched and pressed against the ceiling of the car as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, his fingers busy pulling your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop. He tugs you over, as you help him pull you over the shift gear, launching yourself with the heel of your foot. You land right against his hard cock, a grunt falling from his lips, as your pussy throbs against the coarse material of his jeans. 

Your palms run across the vest, as his lips fall from your lips, punctuating the kiss to the hollow of your throat with sucking at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He takes his time with you:he’s pragmatic with his kisses, his touches, each one carefully calculated — your collarbone, your neck, your pulse; he’s patient, his lips smile against your skin when he feels you squirm; but he’s passionate, his hands splayed across your hips, his chest bumping yours, his eyes bored into you as if he couldn’t bear to look away. 

But still, he wasn’t keeping his promise — his fingers traced up and down your thighs, but he made no move to unbuckle his belt or undo his fly, “Sir, please—” 

“This isn’t a reward,” his voice taut, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, knowing it wasn’t enough pressure to bloom bruises, “not after what you just pulled.” 

“I did what I did—” 

His hand flies over your mouth, muffling your words against your palm, “I didn’t ask for an explanation,” and he roughly shifts you so you were straddling his thigh now, the thick muscle under your throbbing folds, “And I don’t think you deserve to get fucked, do you?” He rolls the thigh underneath you, delicious friction sending a ripple of pleasure up your spine, “not until you learn your lesson.” 

“Please—” you let out a needy whine, as you grind down, moaning as your folds drag against him, and his fingers wind their way around your neck, the cold metal of his watch against the hollow of your throat. A shiver ghosts down your body, and you don’t know if it’s from the cold press of the watch or the anticipation that mulls in your stomach — a heat that makes you melt into him, into his touch. The calluses of his fingers drag against your smooth skin, until they settle into place — as they always did. 

“I want you to fuck yourself on my thigh for me, sweetheart,” his fingers squeeze your throat softly to punctuate his words, his other hand gliding along the length of your thigh until settling on your hip again, his thumb sliding up and down the soft flesh, “You have to earn it.” 

“Earn what?” and he forces you to roll against his thigh again, forcing a whimper from your lips. 

“Earn the right to be fucked,” he presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. 

You glare at him, before his thigh falls slack and you throb again, wanting friction, wanting pleasure, wanting him. 

Fuck it, your hands splay over his shoulders, against the thick material of the vest, and fuck him. 

You grind down on his thigh, your clit catching deliciously against his the thick muscle of his thigh, “Look at you,” his fingers flex around your neck with every press of his thigh, “imagine if the team could see you like this, split open on my thigh, soaking it — I can feel how wet you are — I can hear it,” Your pussy twitches against him, and his lips curl, “you like that, don’t you? Only I can fuck you like this. I can only see you like this, can’t I?” and you nod, as he begins to roll his thigh against your in tandem, your head lolling back — so fucking good, “show me how good you are, show me how good you’re going to be for me.” 

And he knows you’re close — your fingernails digging into his shoulders, mouth ajar, his fingers around your neck holding you in place for him — a pretty picture of pleasure before him, for him to watch you fall apart under his touch. You were his art, and he was surely the artist. 

You rock your hips against him again, as his thigh tenses in time, and then his finger reach underneath, rubbing against you harshly, “Cum for me,” 

And you do, his name on your lips again, your walls fluttering as you spill all over him, still grinding against him as you ride out your orgasm. His lips find yours as you slow, embarrassingly wet, his jeans soaked with evidence of your orgasm, but that only serves to make you clench against him more. He presses butterfly kisses against your lips as you come down, your pants in his ear. 

“Sir, Aaron— please—” He runs his thumb down your lips, pulling at your bottom one, as he looks at you with half lidded eyes, and he moves your hand to his bulge, hardened against the material of his jeans, damp — just as his pant leg you rested on was — but from his arousal, not yours. His eyes darken when he sees your tongue drag against your lips, “Can I—” 

Your answer is when he pushes the seat back as far as it can go, and you slip from his lap, kneeling comfortably between his legs, pushed flush with the seat. His fingers undo his belt, the clink of his belt making you press your thighs together. He lifts his hips, as you help him pull his jeans and boxers down, a flurry of fabric tugged down to his ankles, until you’re staring at his cock. 

Precum leaks out the tip, a low hiss leaves his lips as your fingers curl around him, your tongue darting out to lick it. His fingers tighten against the armrests, as you kiss the tip again, your fingers grazing him lightly, “Fuck, sweetheart, I thought you wanted me to fuck you—” his sentence dies in his throat as you press the flat of your tongue down the underside of his hardness, relishing in the way he twitches underneath your touch, “fuck, I—” 

His fingers card through your hair, tugging you closer, pressing his length into your mouth, “You do that so well, don’t you?” he murmurs, his hips beginning to jerk against you, “going to fuck your throat, mark that mouth as my own. Because you’re mine,” He groans, when your tongue traces his slit again, before curling around his length. 

You grin against him, lips sucking and licking, a thick heat radiating between your bodies that made you nearly sigh. He was the stoic bureau chief who hardly had a kind word for anyone who disappointed him — and yet, here he was, your name curled around your name like that, in a rough, desperate tone that made another stripe of warmth flush through your body. His fingers dug sharply into your scalp, thrusting until his tip hit the back of your throat. 

He hears you gag, and he freezes. The facade breaks a moment, as he blinks down at you, his eyes flickering down to check on you, “Sorry—” but you tap twice to let him know you’re okay, your eyes half lidded and glassy, “are you—” his words left as you hollowed out your cheeks to suck at him, and you wished you could hear his debauched groan again and again. 

And your tongue traces his slit again, before sucking again — and he’s thrusting again, slowly this time, “You’re so good for me,” he murmurs, the persona fading as he got closer to his orgasm, “so good, sweetheart,”

But then he pulls you off, gently, and you’re panting, peering up at him, his cock twitching at the sight, “Aaron—” 

He helps you into his lap with a grunt, “I want to fuck you, sweetheart, just how you want, just tell me what you want,” 

His words are nearly enough to make you come apart, with his cock brushing against your clit, “I want you to fuck me in your vest, I want to feel myself come apart on you,” you shift, and your head bumps against the ceiling, you flinch, “but maybe not in here,” 

His hand finds the top of your head rubbing it, “Maybe you’re right,” 

The two of you slip from the car — disheveled but dressed — his hand in yours as he pulls you towards the door, and his keys are in his hands. You’re pressed against him, pressing kisses to his shoulder, and right as your hand drifts to the bulge in his pants, the door opens. And now, you’re pressed against it. 

His lips fall to yours, crushing you against the door, one hand undoing the button on your pants, and the other trying to pull your shirt over your head. You oblige him, lifting your arms over your head, getting the pesky fabric out of way, before he undoes your bra with practiced ease. The fabric of his vest drags down your body as he towers over you. He finds your lips again, his tongue tracing over your lips before slipping into your mouth — and you know he’s tasting himself on your lips. 

And your hand palms his bulge through his pants, just as his lips trail down to your neck, “Fuck, sweetheart,” he murmurs, as you revel in the weight of his cock in your fingers, and his teeth scrape against your neck, smoothing it with his tongue. 

And you can’t stand it anymore, you pull him back, fingers knotted in his hair at the base of his neck, “I need you,” and his eyes are lidded and dark, raising an eyebrow, “sir.” 

And we’re back. 

“Let me see how much,” His fingers find your underwear, completely soaked through and he pulls the crotch aside, a calloused finger rubs at your clit, making you jump, “All of this for me?” 

“Aar—” you yelp, as another finger joins the first, spreading your folds, toying and pinching your clit. 

“You’re soaked,” he hums, and your pussy convulses around his fingers, until he pulls his hand away, undoing his pants, and freeing himself from his slacks. And you’re acutely aware of just how dressed he was compared to you — you were down to your underwear, and his clothes dragged over your bare skin. 

And now he’s lifting your leg, hooking around his hip, before sucking his fingers, shiny with your cum, into his mouth, and your hands fall on his shoulders, digging into the coarse material,  “I need you to—” 

And he fills you, sinking into you with ease. You arch into his touch, as he groans, a guttural noise that fills your ears, as he begins to thrust, the door creaking under your weight, pressed chest to chest, your peaks rubbing against his vest,  “Look at how well you’re taking me, sweetheart,” he moans, leaning his head down to lave at your nipples, “You’ve wanted this from the moment you saw me today, didn’t you?  Wanted me to fuck you in my vest — do you like it when I take control?” 

His fingers dig into your hips, “Aaron, I’m—” you’re nearly boneless at this point, utterly consumed by him, unable to tell where the other begins or ends, pleasure rolling off in waves, teetering on the edge, “I’m close—” 

“Don’t come until I say,” he slows his thrusts to a languid pace, and you swear, fingers digging into his shoulders, and his fingers are at your clit. A sob rips from your throat, on the edge of pleasure. 

“Sir—” your orgasm begins to crest, shaking your head, “I need—” 

“And he begins to thrust in earnest, his fingers rubbing your clit harshly, “Cum for me, baby,” and you’re coming apart with his name on your lips, as he murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, your walls fluttering around his cock, as you tug him closer, chest to chest again, fingernails digging into his vest. And his hips snap once more before he finally spills inside you with a groan of your name. 

You find him in your haze, pulling him to your lips, and this kiss is softer and sweet — deeper, as he rests himself against the door, slowing to a stop. Cupping your cheek, his thumb brushes the length of it, before pulling away, his forehead pressed to yours, slowly letting your leg down. Your knees wobble and he doesn’t miss it. 

He rears back for a moment, his hands trying to steady you, “Are you—” 

“I’m fine,” you sigh, tugging him close again, the absence of him too much to bear in this post-orgasmic bliss — you needed him closer even. But he slips from inside you, even as you pout, “I just need you, remember?” 

“I remember,” he hums, pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, lips curled in a smile, “I also remember something about us missing dinner after I kept you waiting,” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Hungry already, Hotchner?” 

He shrugs, trailing slow kisses up your neck, “I worked up an appetite,” he nearly lifts you off your feet, pulling you into his arms, “order takeout and then a shower? Together,” he adds, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

You smirk, tilting your head, “Is that an order, sir?” 

And he raises an eyebrow, pulling you closer, as your hands slip around his shoulders, feeling the material of the vest under your fingers, “Well, it wasn’t a question.” 

[crimsonwolfie]

A Love Like In The Movies - Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Prompt: You (the reader) have had a crush on Stiles, your best friend, since forever. Only...he likes the popular girl, Lydia...or so you thought.

Warnings: tinges of sadness, loneliness and a hint of heartbreak...but a ton of fluff :)

Word count: 3,071

masterlist

You tug at your bag, shoving about 3 books in at once in an attempt to be out of class as soon as the bell rings. Walking with your head down and hands clasping your bag up, you harshly bump into the new kid Henry, knocking him to the floor along with all his books and your papers....clearly you never remembered why your nickname was ‘Wobbly Whittmore’.

“Oh my gosh, i’m so sorry!” You utter with one hand on your mouth and the other helping him up off the floor. He stares up at you with a dazed look and a small smirk, watching you help scramble up his papers and books.

“It’s chill, don’t worry”

You look up at him with a shy smile, clearly embarrassed for your clumsiness. “It’s not, honestly i’m so sorry. You haven’t even been here for a week and already you’ve been practically beaten up..” you shake your head “that usually happens at least 3 months in” you wink at him, laughing lightly. Henry laughs back whilst collecting more papers from the floor.

As you both sigh, your hands collide briefly. It was just for a moment...but it made you feel something. At first it was shock, but then something you’ve wanted to feel for so long...just with someone else...Stiles. Henry’s eyes dart up at you, his cheeks heating up slightly.

“I...sorry i should get going” he quickly adverts his gaze and gets up, picking up what’s in his hands “how many people can say they’ve encountered the nice Whittmore in their first week, huh?”

“Oh god you know about my brother already?” you huff, handing him his books “Some friendly advice since you’re obviously a decent guy...stay far away from him.” You laugh, once again feeling embarrassed for being related to...well...Jackson.

“Yeah he has a...well...a reputation so to speak. Thanks again, see you around, Y/N”

“Later Henry!”

Walking through the halls you can’t help but think of Stiles. He’s adorable, cute, beautiful, funny, smart, geeky but in the best way, kind, gentle...the list quite literally goes on forever. But in all the time you’ve known him...he’s always liked Lydia. The girl who your brother used to date. Since they broke up, Stiles has never been so smitten. Sure, she’s gorgeous and actually really nice...but she’s who he likes...she’s not you. I mean, you never know...he could like you. You’ve never actually mentioned it to him. But then if you do, and he turns you down, you’d be crushed... completely!

“Hey Y/N!” Stiles appears from around the corner of the lockers, making you jump a little.

“Jesus Stiles, don’t do that!” You hiss as you hold your hand over your heart. He throws his head back giggling. ‘God how cute he looks when he’s happy’ the little voice in your head says.

“You up for a movie marathon after school? I got your favourites...” he moves closer

“Harry Potter?!” You squeal, clapping your hands together 

“Only the best for the best” he smiles with all teeth showing. You silently fist pump the air as he holds his hand out for you to high five him, which you do. Your hands hover in the air, skin hot to the touch, until he breaks apart and places his hands in his pockets.

“I’ll go and find Scott and ask if he’s in. Knowing him, he’ll want to bring Allison and with Allison comes...”

“Lydia” you sigh

“Yes! She’s just so brilliant, isn’t she?” Stiles hummed, his face cheeky and merry like a child eating ice cream. You tried to hide the hurt with a faint smile, because seeing Stiles so happy just warmed your heart. You didn’t want to be the one to ruin it.

“What’s up Y/N/N?” Stiles’ smile faded into a frown, concern painted across his perfectly honeyed eyes. Seeing this, you can practically feel your heart drop.

You fiddle with the rings on your fingers as your soft Y/H/C hair slips in front of your face. “What? No...nothing. Rough day that’s all-”

“HEY Y/N” You look up to see Henry running towards you with one arm stretched out towards you, the other holding his bag strap. “You left this, when we spoke earlier” he hands you a pile of papers, all with your name on.

“Oh, my god...I’d be totally screwed if I didn’t have this for tomorrow’s math class. I’m so sorry. They must have got mixed up with your papers” you take the papers out of his hand and shove them into your bag, smiling shyly at both boys staring at you. “Thanks Henry, you saved my math grade” you laugh, causing Henry to blush and bite his lip ever so subtly, placing his hand on your arm and squeezing it playfully.

“No worries, Y/N. I’ll see you around” he winks at you, earning a frown from Stiles. 

“Who’s that geezer?” He remarks, his face furrowed with a mix of both dislike and anger. Little did you know, Stiles didn't like seeing other guys flirt with you. He began to feel this deep pit in his stomach, his blood beginning to boil. 

You turn to face Stiles, pushing your hair back behind your ear. Sheepishly you pat him on the shoulder “i’ll see you at 3? Parking lot?”

“Yeah, sure.” He replies hesitantly, fidgeting with the rim of his flannel. You notice something’s got him wound up but decide it’s probably just him nervous to spend time with Lydia and continue to walk down the hall, making your way to health class.

━━━━━━━━

All throughout the rest of your classes for the day, you just felt empty. Nothing but heartbreak, emptiness, loneliness. Thoughts of him and Lydia snuggling up in blankets whilst eating popcorn and watching the movie kept bubbling around your brain. You tried to snap out of it, but nothing would work. You thought about just cancelling on the meet after school, knowing it would be way less painful. ‘They probably wouldn’t even notice I'm gone’ you thought. Your mind was like a prison that you couldn't escape...

“this must have been what Sirius Black felt like for 12 years” you mutter under your breath, not caring who heard. Sounds of faint chattering, pencils scribbling and the monotone voice of Mrs Rawlings can be heard around you, but none of it distracts your train of thoughts. Just begging for some sort of peace, you crash your head into your arms on the table.

“Hey, Y/N” you felt a gentle nudge on your forearm and look up to see Scott staring down at you, his hand on your arm. “What’s up with you dude? And who’s Sirius Black?”

You sigh with an overly dramatic eye roll, unwillingly plucking up enough strength to say once again that you’re ‘fine just a bit tired that’s all’...

“Tired.” is all you can spit out before shoving your head back into your arms. Little did you know, Scott could sense what you were feeling...I mean you didn't lie - he sensed tiredness...just mentally. Along with hurt, pain and loneliness.

“You sure? Well maybe after school you’ll feel better. Say, d’you reckon Allison likes...I don’t know...flowers? I... I was going to get her a bunch before I pick her up to go to Stiles’” You felt your tears drop into your sleeves, soaking both your jumper and your face as Scott continued. “Do girls like flowers? I’d ask Lydia but I'm closer with yo...”

“Yeah flowers whatever.” you mutter without lifting your head up. Scott scrunched his face, his brows furrowing. Usually, you were so much more supportive and excited for him - heck you were even more excited than him when you found out about him and Allison! You guys always told each other everything. ‘Something is definitely going on’ he thought to himself. He decided it was best to not say much more right now since he was already on a report in Mrs Rawlings’ class.

Just as Scott was about to hand you a note in class, the final bell rang. Instantly you popped up and grabbed your books, practically sprinting out of the door. Scott tried to stop you, but was called behind class by the teacher. You knew he was going to follow you, that's why you ran. No matter what, he couldn't see you like this, otherwise he wouldn’t drop it and would demand to know who hurt you - how could you tell him it was his own best friend?! As you’re jogging, you bump into the one person you wanted to avoid...

“Woah, slow down there cowgirl” Stiles holds your shoulders with his hands, his grip firm and comforting. He takes one look at you and notices your wet, blotchy eyes. You hang your head low in an attempt to hide your face from him...clearly it doesn't work.

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s up? Who hurt you?! his smile fades drastically upon seeing the state you were in. Obviously you weren't going to tell him, so you just decide to make up something...

“I failed my health class for the semester”

“Y/N it’s not the end of the world, you can always retake!” he sighs

You turn over to him with your hands in the air, shaking your head. “No you don’t un...you know what, Stiles? I can’t come over later. I’m sorry.” 

He steps back in surprise, both hands leaving your shoulders and grabbing his bag straps around his arms. Suddenly, you feel angry at him...though you instantly regret snapping at him. “i...I’m sorry” is all you can stutter as you run out the door, leaving Stiles standing there wondering what he did wrong, for what felt like hours, until Scott saw him.

“dude what're you doing? We got a marathon to start” he smacks Stiles on the back full pelt, leaving Stiles to stumble a bit.

“Have you spoken to Y/N today?” he asks, his voice trembly, quiet.

“Of course I have. Why, haven’t you?” The alpha replies

“No I have, it’s just...she was upset and i tried to help but she just...” he trails off   as Scott steps closer, Stiles’ eyes dull.

“She just what?” he asks, his voice calm and gentle

“She said she failed health class...”

“Wait, no that's not true - I got pulled behind class today because Mrs Rowlings wants me to have a tutor for health class and suggested Y/N since she’s acing everything!?” Scott explained. Stiles jerked his head, brows furrowing once again.

“Wait what?” his hand flew to his forehead as he leaned against the lockers beside him. “She snapped at me. I think I did something, Scotty...but I don’t know what. She’s been distant for a while now ever since Jackson and Lydia broke up, and I mean I know that her brother hates us but I just didn't think Y/N would choose her brother over us or me and i...”

“Stiles, stop.” Scott grabs both of Stiles’ shoulders and makes direct eye contact with him. “Listen, okay? I think I know what’s up”

“You do?” Stiles’ eyes brightened insantly. He knew something was wrong with his best friend and he knew he would do anything to fix that.

“She likes you, dude. Really likes you. And I thought you would have figured that out by now...she’s always doodling your name in class and covers it whenever someone passes by. Plus, she talks about you all the time.” Scott understood why you had been distant, and he didn’t blame you.

Stiles’s cheeks flushed a bright shade of red as a smile began appearing. His heart started pounding quicker than Quicksilver in the X-Men films, butterflies swarming around his stomach and ribcage. “Seriously? Then why is she distancing herself from me?”

“Because she still thinks you’re in love with Lydia...her heartbeat quickens when she’s with you, or when you guys touch in some way” Scott’s tone becomes more serious, which is unusual for Scott. Typically, he’s always goofy around Stiles so clearly he meant what he was about to say next... “But when you’re with Lydia, her mood changes. I can sense it...It’s sort of sad, lonely...” his face melts just thinking of all the times he’s felt that same pain. “You gotta tell her how you feel, Stiles. Tonight.”

“But I can’t...she’s not coming!” Stiles replies with a croaky voice.

“Then you go to her!” Scott replies, his eyes wide with hope and his hands pressing on Stiles’ back, pushing him towards the door “go now, dude!” Stiles picks up his pace and jogs to the door, one hand gripping his bag strap and the other fiddling with his keys in his pocket. “And let me know how it goes” Scott shouts as Stiles leaves the building.

━━━━━━━━

As you reach your front door, you feel a tear trickle down your cheek. All you could think of was Stiles. How he would, at this moment, be snuggling and giggling with Lydia. You have nothing against her, in fact you are actually really fond of her, but it breaks your heart to know you aren't the one who can make the boy you love, fall for you. A pain runs through your chest as you slam the door shut, your breathing wheezing. Leaning against the door, you slide down...completely breaking down.

“Why doesn’t he look at me that way?” you mutter to yourself, head in arms as your cheeks soak into your sleeves. “All I've ever done is try and make him happy, try and make him realise how incredible he is...and he still doesn't see me the same way”

Nose sniffling, eyes red, head fuzzy, hands shaking and top wet...you get up. ‘You did the best thing. It was the right decision to stay home’ you think, knowing it would have just ruined your friendship if you told him how you felt. And anyway, you wanted him to be happy. And clearly, that wasn't with you...

You ran upstairs and changed into a comfy pair of joggers and an oversized top, chucking your slippers on and grabbing a blanket before heading back downstairs. If you couldn't join their movie night - you’d have your own! 

Snacks and a drink were sitting on the table beside you on the sofa, with the television on ready and curtains closed. Just as you had got yourself in a comfy position, the doorbell rang. You grunted, kicking the blanket off your legs and dragging yourself towards the front door. Opening it, you felt your breath escape you. It was Stiles, standing at the door, with a bouquet of beautiful flowers in his hands. His hair was messy as if he’d run his fingers through it a thousand times, his cheeks were flushed brighter and pinker than bubblegum, looking as if he was out of breath from rushing somewhere. You go to say something, but before you had the chance, Stiles speaks, “Hi! I uh....I didn’t know whether you were mad at me or whether you were just having a rough day but it seemed like you were mad at me so I wanted to see if you were okay and uh...I got you these” His arms stretched to give you the flowers, his face ridden with nerves. You looked down at the flowers and then back up to Stiles’ face.

“Why would you think i was mad at you?” You questioned, brows furrowing at the confusion of what was happening. “These are gorgeous, thanks Stiles” you coo with a smile on your face, taking the flowers from Stiles’ hands. As you grab them, your hands touch Stiles’, causing your cheeks to flush and your heart to flutter. Stiles’ own cheeks flushed at the touch of your hands, too.

“You seem distant with me lately. And Scott told me why...” he begins, fingers fidgeting with the rim of his checkered shirt “I like Lydia...” he trails off.

Upon hearing these words, you feel your heart drop. Mouth dry and sadness creeping into your mind, you feel clouded with emotions and thoughts. Why would Stiles come over, give you flowers and then declare his love for Lydia? “Yeah I kno...” you begin until he cuts you off,

“She’s my friend. And she’s amazing...but she doesn’t wait for me after classes. She doesn’t call me to check in once in a while. She doesn’t do anything in her power to make sure I'm happy or know I'm loved...” his beautiful brown eyes stared lovingly into yours, your heart lifting and beating faster with each sentence he says...

“She doesn’t know me, and I mean the real me...the one who suffers with anxiety, who needs a nightlight and needs constant reassurance on even the simplest things” you smirk at the mention of a nightlight because, well, you were the one who actually got it for him...because you knew he wasn't doing too good. “She is my friend, Y/N, but she isn’t my best friend. And I like her, but I don’t love her...because I love you. It’s always been you”

There’s a soft wind that blows between you both, causing you to shiver and shake with both excitement and chills. Stiles’ eyes glittered in the sunlight like an ocean surface in summer, tears welling in them. You bit your lip which trembled with an overcoming emotion of happiness as you leant forward and grabbed him, cupping his face in your soft hands and bringing your lips to his in a desperate yet passionate way. Feelings of euphoria and desire filled both of your hearts like a fire burning bright, lips moving sweetly in sync as in destined for one another. His hands wrap around your waist as you bring your hands through his hair. Nothing felt more perfect than this moment...all your worries gone and your heart fuller than ever before because the boy who holds your heart, who has held your heart for years, is finally in your arms. Stiles’ warmth radiates onto your cheeks as you smile into the kiss, earning a smile from Stiles, too. Breaking away to breathe, you both look down and giggle, hands intertwining with Stiles rubbing circles on your palm with his thumb.

You look up at him, smiling, as you speak “I...I love you too”. Stiles coos as he pulls you closer to him to break the gap now between you both, “I gathered” he laughs, kissing the top of your forehead affectionately. “So, how about that marathon?”

Hope you guys like it! x

[reidyoulikeabook]

Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading  you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.” 

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

[swbumblebee]

Plo Koon entered the rooms he knew almost as well as his own and allowed the serene Force presence he’d been projecting hard to fall away, with a sigh he felt down to his very bones.

It was Dhikraa; the Jedi day of mourning. Of course, each departed friend, comrade or sibling received their own funeral, and were mourned and missed dearly by those they left behind. But on this day, one day each year, time was made to acknowledge and remember all those they had lost, to embrace the grief for a short while and to take a moment to be grateful for all they given to their brothers and sisters and to the Galaxy.

It had been a long day. He couldn’t imagine how Mace was feeling. As Master of the order the expectations on a day such as this were high; His presence was expected at every ceremony and gathering, at all the different species-specific rituals and the various meditation sessions.

Plo was sure his friend would much rather have hidden in these very rooms, with a few nice bottles of something expensive and the privacy to let his shields slip, just a little. Force knew that’s all Plo wanted to do.

Sure enough, the Korun Master was sitting quietly in the dimly lit room, on a cushion on the floor. His back resting against the sofa and eyes still closed, despite Plo’s presence.

He knew better than to ask if he was alright. Simply making his way to the kitchen Plo exchanged his mask for one that allowed him to drink and took his time pouring two glasses of their favourite.

Neither said anything as Plo quietly sat down next to his friend and handed over the glass.

“Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la” he said softly after a moment, raising his own drink in a toast. Not gone, merely marching far away. It was something he’d picked up from the clones, that first time around. And whilst those they missed weren’t exactly dead (some hadn’t even been born) they were very, very far away.

“Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la” Mace repeated, his voice a little horse.

Wolffe, Ahsoka, Comet, Sinker, Adi, Nahdar, Qui-Gon…the list of those he missed was almost too long.

In a rare slip of shields from the man next to him, Plo received a vivid image of young Caleb Dume sitting on a familiar kitchen counter, skinny legs swinging in excitement. And then a blink-an-you’ll-miss-it flash of Depa, grinning as she braided the boy’s hair.

Plo put a hand on his friend’s knee, projecting understanding into the Force around them. It wasn’t only those who weren’t with them they missed, it was the people they were by the end. It was almost unspeakably difficult to be around people, yet still miss their older selves. People changed a lot in thirteen years.

Mace signed, visibly pulling himself together.

“Sorry, long day” he explained, taking a long sip of wine.

“I know” Plo shrugged. “Its over now.”

Mace nodded slowly.

“Have you seen the boys?” he asked, with an air of breeziness that didn’t fool Plo one bit. He shook his head.

“Obi-Wan is very private, he may have wanted to stay away from all the activities. And Anakin is very young” he dismissed.

His heart ached for the two. Both had lost so much this year.

Mace shook his head tiredly.

“Maybe we should-“

He froze mid-sentence, frowning in confusion, and Plo did the same.

There were two very familiar presences on the other side of the door.

Mace made a slightly delayed move towards it when it appeared to open of its own accord.

“Anakin you can’t just-!”

“Master Mace? Master Plo? It’s us!”

Both Masters blinked in confusion and stood up as an excitable ten-year-old barged in, swinging a bag of vegetables around as his slightly harried Master followed lugging a huge container that smelt like gravy.

“Apologies Masters, we- we hope you’re not too busy” the twenty-three-year-old Knight Kenobi managed to somehow keep hold of the vat whilst yanking his charge back by the tunics before he had the chance to run any further into the room.

Plo felt himself grinning.

“No of course not, you are both very welcome” he gestured to Anakin, who was let out of his Master’s grip to run in for his customary hug.

Mace hurried to take the large container out of Obi-Wan’s hands

“Obi-Wan Kenobi did you hack my door?” he asked in mock outrage.

The serious young Knight shook his head.

“I did not.”

Mace’s eyebrows rose skeptically.

“I did!” Anakin chirped happily from where he was depositing the vegetables on the kitchen side. Plo could almost feel Obi-Wan’s urge to facepalm and chuckled.

“Really Masters, if you are busy we can come back another time” Obi-Wan looked at them unsurely, a slight hint of trepidation in his face.

Plo opened his mouth to reply when he was beaten to it.

“Of course not Obi-Wan”

Plo struggled to keep the surprise off his face when Mace actually patted the young man on the back as he led them into the kitchen. The container floating cheekily next to them, to Obi-Wan’s clear amusement.  

“What have you brought with you?” he asked conversationally. Plo hung back a little, content to watch the all-too-rare appearance of Mace Windu; Grandmaster. Caleb would be a lucky boy indeed in a few years.

Anakin was already laying out the various root veg on the side, carefully getting them in order and looking around at the various tools hanging on the walls of the tiny kitchen. Obi-Wan caught his wrist with lightening quick reflexes as the boy reached for a carving knife.

“We thought you might like some stew” the Knight explained as if nothing had happened. He looked at the huge vat that Mace had placed on the counter (still with a firm hold on the pouting child’s arm) and gave the Masters a wry smile. “Bant was kind enough to make it for us and well…there’s rather a lot.”

Mace smiled, a genuine happy smile Plo saw all too rarely, and he felt a bubble of happiness in his own chest.

“Yeah there’s loads, and todays like, a really…” Anakin paused and glanced at his Master “significant day” he finished, clearly concentrating on his words “and we just thought maybe you miss Master Qui-Gon too. And your own Masters” he added hurriedly “and maybe we could be together and like, help each other miss…him” the boy was flushing a little by the end of his sentence, clearly embarrassed by the halting explanation.

Plo glanced towards Obi-Wan, feeling durasteel shields locking down over a turbulent Force presence as the young man swallowed subtly and looked away, focussing intently on the vegetables.

“That sounds very wise Anakin” Plo commended softly, nodding encouragingly.

“I couldn’t have put it better myself, Padawan” Mace joined in approvingly.

Obi-Wan offered them a rather shaky smile as he felt both of them reach out with fondness in the Force, and to Plo’s immense pleasure, began reaching back ever so carefully.

Finally! He could’ve cheered at the shy but definite response.

Mace clapped his hands together, breaking the moment.

“Well, stew sounds excellent. Anakin why don’t you set the table and then run and fetch Master Plo’s other mask” he instructed “Plo if you could get the pudding out of the freezing unit we’ll start defrosting it, and I will supervise the chef.” He paused. “And get the emergency teams on standby.”

“Yes Master Mace!”

“Hey! I’ll have you know I have prepared many a meal with no injuries or property damage!”

“Fibbing is not the Jedi way, young Kenobi.”

Plo felt as if he’d had a heavy robe removed from his shoulders, a lightness had entered the dark rooms. He stood back and allowed himself to bask in the suddenly gloriously chaotic atmosphere, banishing all other thoughts as he ruffled Anakin’s hair as the child dashed back and forth creating a centrepiece out of all manner of things.  

“Master Mace can I put this candle on the table?”

“What are you doing? It’s this in first”

“What? No I’m sure it’s- Master Plo which goes first?”

“Plo would you grab the pudding?”

---

It was, of course, important to keep those who were marching far away in their thoughts. To remember the lessons they left and to look forward to a time when they would meet again. And undeniably, they had all lost a lot. But as he looked around the now crowded, noisy, messy flat, Plo was nothing but infinitely grateful for everything they had right here, in this moment.  

[etherealino]

what do you feel? — l. minho

synopsis: chan finds out about minho’s hidden feelings. plus another person he never wanted to hurt.

content/genre: roommate!minho x reader, still based off of joey and rachel in friends, angst

warning(s): ....minho being sad? mention of toxic relationship, swearing. hyunjin was a bit petty.

wc: 1.8k

note: this is a work which is made purely fictional. i portrayed hyunjin here as a petty type but we all know he has one of the biggest hearts that we have met. so no, my writing does not reflect stray kids’ personality, attitude, etc in any kind of way. thank you. — also i hope this part makes sense..?

prev. — and they were friends. m.list — next

“so, hey, what’s up?”

chan weirdly looks at minho. no, not the way he did when minho asked him to pass the ice cube by their mouths. not the way when minho does something weird. but in a way where chan is worried why this man in front of him isn’t calling him a hag or something.

“you okay, min?” chan asks and minho looks at him before blinking away as if to snap himself out of his trance and nod.

“yeah,” minho says, chuckling lightly.

chan frowns. “minho, what’s up?”

it’s been a month. a whole month since the day minho offered to take you out on a date for you to remember what it was like. it’s been a month since minho tried to keep his mouth shut about his feelings and frankly, he can’t take it anymore. he couldn’t sleep at night, wondering what if he met you first before you and hyunjin had a relationship. minho wouldn’t have trouble, that’s for sure.

minho isn’t too worried about his feelings for you because you only see him as your roommate, your temporary home that you come back to everyday, the one that you cling into when having a bad day, your best friend. if you don’t feel the same, yes, minho would be hurt, will get over you as soon as possible. if you feel the same way, just thinking about it, makes him feel like he was at the top of the world but he knows that you don’t.

minho’s main concern was hyunjin. his best friend ever since middle school days. what would hyunjin say if he finds out that his best friend was in love with his ex? yes, it’s been three years since you and hyunjin broke up and even though you two lasted for a year and half, minho knows how hyunjin feels about you. hyunjin says he’s not in love with you anymore but if he’d have a choice, he wouldn’t want you to go out with anyone. that’s why hyunjin chose to break ties with you completely. but now? hyunjin’s best friend in love with you? minho knows hyunjin would be so mad at him.

“hyung,” minho softly says. “i, uh..”

“go on,” chan encourages.

“i know i don’t usually talk about my feelings but.. it’s been taking a big toll on me lately,” minho chuckles, looking down at his hands. “it’s stupid—”

“minho,” chan calls. “nothing you ever feel is stupid. what is it?”

“i.. i think i’m in love with y/n.” minho confesses and even if it isn’t to you or to hyunjin, minho felt a weight came off of his shoulders.

“oh,” chan says. “what are you going to do about it?”

“nothing.” minho says and chan looks at him in disbelief. “hyung, hyunjin would freak out. he would be so mad at me, i—”

“but hyunjin and y/n broke up three years ago.” chan argues.

“but you know how hyunjin feels about it.” minho argues back. “i just needed to tell someone is all.”

“minho, hyunjin’s my best friend, too, but it’s not his decision who you or y/n want to go out with. he has to deal with it, y/n gave him a chance—countless of it and yet, he never learned.” chan says. “they went on and off and on and off but let’s be real, they were toxic together. i’m not saying you should go marry y/n and build a family. i’m just saying you should give it a try. when did you ever feel like this?”

chan has a point, he really does. but minho knows he can never do that.

“i’ll try.”

but chan knows minho won’t.

two months and minho kept his word. he’d do nothing.

“minho!” you call as you enter the apartment. “it’s late, why haven’t you gone to sleep?”

i can’t sleep knowing you aren’t on the next room, sleeping safe and sound.

minho smiles, lifting his head up from leaning it behind the back rest. “i couldn’t sleep.” minho simply says. you return the smile, going towards him after you have dropped your things on the floor to plop beside him. you rest your head against minho’s shoulder and minho leans his head against yours when minho hears you take a deep breath in, he asks, “long day?”

you nod, sighing. you push minho to lie down on the couch as you squeeze yourself between him and the back rest, laying your head on his chest. “just a couple minutes.” you requested and minho hummed, agreeing. minho plays with your hair, pulling it out of the tight ponytail as he untangles some strands. minho sighs, he couldn’t deny it. he lived for these domestic moments with you. he only said he’s going to do nothing, he never said he doesn’t want you because that’s the thing, he does. so damn much.

minho hears your soft snores, looking down at you to see you peacefully sleeping. minho quietly shifts, turning to his side and pulling you closer so he could hug your body to protect you from the cold. minho gets his jacket that he forgot to put in his room earlier, putting it above your legs. minho listens to your soft quiet snores, so he takes the risk of placing a soft peck on your forehead. minho leans his cheeks against your head, slumber taking him in in an instant.

and honestly, that was the most peaceful sleep he ever had. with you wrapped in his arms.

three months and still, minho did nothing.

“hey!” minho hears from behind and he sees hyunjin walking towards him, giving him a pat on the back. “how have you been?”

“hey,” minho greets. “good, good. haven’t seen you all week.”

hyunjin looks around. “is y/n here with you?” he asks and minho shakes his head immediately. “then, i’ll hang with you for a bit until i have to go.” hyunjin says with a smile, sitting on the chair across him on the small table. “am i dreaming or lee minho really doesn’t have a date this valentine’s?”

minho forces a smile, shaking his head.

“why?” hyunjin asks.

minho sighs. “i’d really.. rather not talk about it, jin.”

“come on, hyung.” hyunjin encourages with a smile. “got a person in your cold stone heart?” hyunjin teases and when he sees minho only looking down, hyunjin’s smile falls off. “oh, shit.”

hyunjin slaps minho’s thigh lightly, a laugh escaping hyunjin’s lips as he looks at minho. “ask them out!” he encourages. if it was that easy. “what, are you scared of rejection or something?”

“it’s a bit complicated than that, jin.” minho says with a chuckle.

“tell me, i’m all ears.” hyunjin says. “i still have 20 minutes.”

“it’s fine, jin.”

“no, hyung, come on. what made it complicated?” hyunjin asks.

minho sighs, looking at hyunjin. “well, i’m in love with this person, right?” minho says and hyunjin nods. “well, they happened to be one of my greatest friends’ ex.”

hyunjin looks at the side, humming. “is your friend still in love with them?”

“he says no, but i don’t know. he doesn’t like the idea of his ex going out with someone else.” minho subtly hinted, looking at hyunjin.

“how long have they broken up?” hyunjin asks.

“three years.” minho says.

“hyung, just talk to the guy, when have you ever felt like this for another before? never. you’re such a good person despite your cold facade. i’m pretty sure he’ll understand you.” hyunjin says and minho sighs, looking at hyunjin. “but wow, three years, that’s as long as..”

hyunjin looks at minho, his smile dropping as he realizes.

“y/n?” hyunjin says.

“hyunjin, i don’t like feeling this way especially towards them.” minho quickly says and hyunjin immediately takes off, minho following him. “hyunjin, listen.” 

“y/n, out of all people? hyung, you how i feel about y/n. why them out of all people?” hyunjin says.

“look, if i could control it, you think i would have chose them?” minho says. “no. hyunjin, trust me. i don’t plan on doing anything.”

“just.. i need to stay away from you for now.” hyunjin says as he walks down the street with minho standing where he was left. minho sighs, turning around to go back to his apartment to sulk. 

the next day. hyunjin bumps into you along the way.

“hey,” hyunjin softly says.

“hi, hyunjin.” you greet. hyunjin hated that. it could be seen in your eyes—no, guilt, no grudge, no sadness. you must have fully moved on already. and maybe hyunjin hasn’t yet because then, he wouldn’t have expected that you two would be on again.

“minho there?” hyunjin asks.

“mhm, just woke up.” you said with a smile. hyunjin hated that.

“bye, thanks.”

“bye.” you said as you went downstairs. hyunjin continued on his journey to minho’s apartment. he knocks a few times until he hears minho’s voice.

“y/n, you forgot your keys again— hyunjin.” minho says as he opens the door. hyunjin forces a smile and minho sighs. “look, i know you’re mad at me—”

“i talked to chan hyung.” hyunjin said. “and, no, i don’t hate you, hyung. why would i ever? you always got my back when i need you and...” hyunjin sighs. “our friendship is more than that, if you know what i mean.”

minho nods. “have you had breakfast? i got a full table.” minho offers and hyunjin smiles, stepping in. minho closes the door and walks to the kitchen to give hyunjin a plate as they both dig in. “so, how have you been?”

hyunjin sighs, shaking his head. “no, how have you been?” 

“alright.” minho says.

“chan hyung said you plan on doing nothing.” hyunjin says and minho forces a smile, nodding to confirm it. “why not? if it’s because of me, we broke up three years ago, remember?”

“but you—”

“i know.” hyunjin says. “but i want to be okay with it now. i saw y/n earlier on the hall and she greeted me like i was just an ordinary person. she’s happy and.. i hate that.”

minho lightly chuckles.

“you have to tell her. you haven’t been the same since.” hyunjin says. “you haven’t threatened to put me in the air fryer for months now.” hyunjin laughs and minho chukles, shaking his head. “tell them.”

minho sighs, “are you sure about this?”

“you got to let it out, man.” hyunjin says and minho sighs. minho remembers the lifted weight off his shoulders when he told chan. what more if he told you. so, minho nodded, agreeing.

“y/n, hi.” minho greets as you enter the apartment.

“hi, honey.” you greet as you went straight to your room, getting the stuff you need and walk out.

“hey, can i talk to you for a second?” minho asks.

“sure, honey.” you said. “but can you make it quick? i’m in a rush here.” you gently smiled and minho sighed, nodding.

“okay, how about we just have dinner later?” minho suggests and you nod, smiling. you pull him closer, your lips touching his cheek.

“text me. bye.” you said with a smile as you walk out of the apartment, leaving minho to think about how he would tell you.

come say hi, my loves !! <3

taglist: (yaaay !! hmu if u want to be tagged too !! <3)

@yourdaddychan​ @helpsplease​

[petri808]

#15 for itafushi pleaseeee

“Hi, I’ve been subtle at hinting that I want your attention all day and you haven’t noticed once and now I’m pissed.” —Okay this one I needed to tweak slightly to fit lol.

Megumi plopped down on Yuuji’s bed and shook it to wake the sleeping man. “Hey, wanna join me for a morning work out?”

Yuuji peeked with one eye, “I’m still tired, think I’ll sleep in today.”

“Oh—” Megumi got up, “alright, catch you later.”

“Mmm,” the man simply replied as he fell back to sleep.

It’d been driving Megumi crazy these past few weeks. Ever since things had calmed down and slowly returned to normal, the pair rarely did anything together anymore. Problems with curses had died down considerably with both Sukuna and Kamo nullified, so calls for their assistance and missions were fewer and farther between. Frankly, Megumi wasn’t used to a world like this one anymore, and all the free time it gave them left him— bored… or something else.

When he returned from exercising and taking a shower, Megumi walked through the common area towel drying his hair to find Yuuji sitting on a couch scrolling on his phone.

“You’re up finally. Wanna get lunch?” He asked his friend.

Yuuji looked up from his phone. “Hey Megumi. Sorry, I already ate.” He smiled. “How was the workout?”

“Oh, okay. It was fine, just trying to hone a technique.”

“That’s good.”

Megumi casually wrapped the towel around his neck. “By the way, I got the latest Shonen Weekly, if wanna read it.”

“Maybe later. I’m catching up on some news about the reconstruction.”

Megumi could feel his eye twitch. “Well, it’s on my desk if you’re interested.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “What’s your dinner plans?”

“Mmm, haven’t decided yet.”

“If you’d like, we can go grab some together.”

“Cool,” Yuuji smiled. “I’ll check back with you this afternoon then.”

“Yeah, sure…”

Argh! Megumi chucked the wet towel at his bed in annoyance. Is Yuuji just being lazy?! Also, since when does he care about the news?! In the entire time he’d known the guy, he couldn’t remember the man caring about such normal things. Food and fun, Yuuji’s the carefree type, and something like watching the news was not his thing! It was frustrating! “Baka!” Why is he getting so upset over something so small? ‘Calm down idiot! You’re reading too much into nothing!’

Megumi decided a nap might help to calm his nerves. So, he laid down in bed and crashed for a bit, but when he woke up, he didn’t feel any better. He let out an exasperated exhale and dragged himself out of bed. It really felt like Yuuji was avoiding him, did the man suspect something? Megumi was usually good at hiding his true emotions, but this was new territory and maybe he was failing at it miserably. So— yes, he had a crush on Yuuji, but he wasn’t ready to come right out and say anything. He just wanted to hang out, was that a crime, because he’d come to enjoy having the man around. Yuuji was such a breath of fresh air in his otherwise closeted world— it was a nice, albeit scary feeling.

He left his room to search for Yuuji, but at first couldn’t find the guy. The man wasn’t in his room, the common areas, the training yard, and Gojo hadn’t seen him in an hour. After giving up, Megumi returned to his room where he was an hour later when he heard his friends laugh coming down the hallway. He dropped what he was doing and went out to intercept, only to find Yuuji walking with Nobara. No matter. Megumi acknowledged her, then asked Yuuji again about dinner.

“We just got back from eating,” Yuuji gestured towards Nobara. “You were napping, so we didn’t want to wake you.”

Seriously?! Megumi clenched his jaw to stop himself from snapping. Oh, he wanted to, but not with Nobara there. “I’ll just grab something myself then.” He simply stated and walked away leaving the pair behind. It wasn’t exactly out of the norm for him to be curt with them, so he assumed they’d be oblivious to his true reaction.

In reality, he wanted to scream. Obliviousness should be Yuuji’s middle name! Okay, fine, the guy had a valid reason not to wake him up. He had been working out and was possibly tired. But had Yuuji actually tried to check on him? Megumi wanted to doubt it. What reason did the man have to do so? All such thoughts were rambling through his head as he made his way out of the front door, that he didn’t hear someone running after him.

“Megumi, wait!”

It wasn’t until he’d reached the entrance of the school, that Megumi finally heard and stopped when he heard his name being called. He turned around around and found Yuuji sprinting towards him.

“What?!” He questioned the man. “I said I’ll get my own dinner.”

“I know,” Yuuji rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “but that movie you were waiting for came out today. Wanna go?”

“Oh, now you wanna talk to me?!” Megumi finally snapped.

“Wow! Why are you so mad?!” Yuuji questioned. “Is it about dinner? I’m sorry, next time I’ll wake you up if you felt left out.”

“Of course, I’m mad! I’ve been subtly hinting that I wanted your attention all day and you haven’t noticed once, so now I’m pissed.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Whatever,” Megumi waved a hand angrily and turned to leave. He just needed to get out of there and calm himself before he continued snapping at his crush.

“Wait!” Yuuji grabbed Megumi’s shoulder. “I said I’m sorry! Why are you acting like this?!”

Megumi whipped around furious. “Why have you been avoiding me?!” He retorted.

“I’m not avoiding you…”

“Yes, you are. You’ve been avoiding me for weeks now, always making excuses when I ask you out.” Megumi froze at his own words. Shit! Did he just say that out loud?! Based on the blush that bloomed on Yuuji’s face, yes he had. Someone take him out of his misery please! “Forget it.” Megumi sighed and tried to leave again, but Yuuji grabbed his wrist this time to stop him.

“Don’t leave,” Yuuji’s voice was low and trembling. “I wasn’t exactly avoiding you, at least not for the reasons you probably think.”

Megumi’s eyebrow raised. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

“Because being around you makes me nervous,” Yuuji admitted, the blush deepening on his face. “I feel a little weird being alone with you, and I don’t know how to handle it.”

It was like being punched in the face. Megumi’s eyes went wide and mouth hung open in shock, too dumbfounded to respond.

“See,” Yuuji continued after seeing his friends response. “This is why I just chose to stay away, because it’s weird, right?”

Megumi cleared his drying throat. “You keep saying weird, but do you mean what I think you’re trying to say?” He questioned with hopefulness in his tone.

“Maybe? I don’t know if you know what I’m thinking.”

Megumi snorted. Oblivious. “Why do you think I kept trying to get your attention?”

Yuuji shrugged and resumed scratching his head nervously. “I don’t know. Bored?”

“Why’d I pick you,” Megumi mumbled to himself. “No, that’s not why.”

“Then what, because I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“Because I like you, idiot!”

You could count the seconds ticking by as the revelation finally clicked in Yuuji’s brain. His eyes went wide along with the surprised smile on his face. “Really!” He breathed out an exhale. “Wow! I’ve been nervous for nothing!”

Megumi ran a hand down his face. “That makes two of us.” They were both idiots. “Look, I’m hungry… but if you wanna watch the movie after, you can come with me.”

“Hell yeah!” Yuuji pumped a fist in the air. “Our first date! This’ll be fun!”

Could someone explain to Megumi why his heart chose this guy again?!

[itsallyscorner]

Fluffy Surprises

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Summary: Seb finally makes one of your life long dreams come true.

A/n: I haven’t written a full length imagine in like forever, so if this is a bit rough I’m sorry ya’ll. But I hope you enjoy it💜

✪

Growing up you have always wanted a dog. You absolutely loved dogs and just formed heart eyes whenever you would see one. When you were younger, you constantly begged your parents for a dog. Although, they said adopting a dog took a lot of responsibility and cost a lot of money. Which resulted in you never having one. All your life you would admire dogs from afar, asking strangers if you could pet their dogs, or just hanging out with your friends’ dogs and pretend they’re yours.

Fast forward to now. You’re a grown adult in a very healthy and serious relationship with your boyfriend Sebastian. You guys have been together for a few years now, meeting at a mutual friend’s party and ended up hitting it off. After that, you guys would always bump into each other at other parties and end up spending the whole night talking to each other. Now you guys took a big step in your relationship and bought your first penthouse together! Since Seb and you both found NYC as your home, you guys bought a place in Manhattan. The both of you were very excited to finally be living together, it was a new chapter in both of your lives.

Unlike your previous apartment, the penthouse allowed pets to live in the building. Seb remembers the moment the real estate agent mentioned it to you guys while checking out what would be your new home. He remembered the way your eyes lit up and how your lips formed into a small grin. When you two left and were back at his apartment, you wouldn’t leave him alone with the puppy eyes and constant hints.

“So, I really liked that last place we checked out. It was very spacious, had a nice view, they even allow pets to live there..” you would casually bring up as you two eat your dinner.

“Seb, look at this puppy I found on Pet Finder!”

“So Golden Retrievers make really good house pets. They’re great protectors and get along with kids.”

“Honey, we don’t have kids.” Seb would look up from the current script he was reading and tilt his head at you in confusion.

“Yeah, but like our future kids, you know? I want them to have a dog growing up.” Your response made his stomach feel light and fluttery. The fact that you thought about having kids with him made him love you even more.

“Seb, can we adopt a dog.” You randomly asked him one day as you two were watching some movie on Netflix.

“You didn’t even try on that one.” He chuckled as he peered down at you. You pouted as you looked up at him from your position on his chest. “Yeah, well I wanted to make sure you were getting my hints.”

Sebastian knew you’ve been wanting a dog of your own since you were little. If he can get anything that would make you the happiest girl in the world, it was a puppy. And of course, being the amazing and most loving boyfriend ever, he wanted to do nothing but make you happy. So he did his research and looked for some nearby shelters around your new neighborhood. He found one just a few blocks away from your shared complex and went to visit it. Obviously, he did this on the down-low, not wanting to spoil the surprise he had planned for you.

The sound of the iPhone alarm pulled you out of your sleeping state. You glanced at the time on the digital clock on your nightstand and grunted. It was currently 6 am, the usual time Seb would wake up to go on his daily jog. How he managed to wake up and instantly be in the mood for running? You had no clue. But you did know he did it to avoid the crowded streets as not many people will be out at that time.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart.” You heard Sebastian’s deep morning voice coax you back to sleep. He always made sure to take a few minutes to just lay in bed and hold you while you drifted back to sleep. When he was sure you were sleeping again, he slowly unwrapped himself from you and got out of bed. He made his way to the connected bathroom and freshened up for the day. He got dressed in sweatpants, a shirt, and some sneakers, his usual jogging attire. But he wasn’t going on a jog. He was actually going to that shelter not too far from your penthouse and picking a little something up.

About two hours later, Sebastian returns home with bags full of pet supplies and most importantly the new member of the family. In his right arm was a 5 week old Golden Retriever puppy. Seb knew that one of the breeds you loved were Golden Retrievers, so when he saw the familiar golden furball at the shelter, he immediately asked for the adoption papers.

Once he shut the door and placed the bags down, the puppy began to squirm in his arms.

“Alright, alright,” Seb places the puppy on the ground, “There ya go, welcome to your new home, buddy.”

Seb watches as the small chubby puppy sniffs its way around the house. He quietly giggles as the puppy bumps into the coffee table. He lets the unnamed puppy (He wants you to name him.) wander around as he starts to set up the dog’s food and water bowls. As he poured the puppy kibble into the bowl, he heard the little taps of the puppy’s nails against the floor. Looking down, Sebastian sees the puppy looking right back at him wagging his tail.

“This is where your food’s gonna be from now on. Unless (y/n) changes that, but for right now your food’s here.” He softly explains to the puppy as if it can understand him. As soon as he placed the bowl down, the dog hurried to the bowl and shoved its face into it.

“You stay right there and eat, I’ll be right back.”

Assuming that the puppy would stay put, Sebastian leaves the kitchen to check on you.

~

“(Y/n)”

“Babe, it’s time to get up.” you let out a huff as you hear Seb try to wake you up. You let out a sound of disagreement.

Sebastian chuckles as you cling tighter onto the pillow you were hugging. Which happens to be his pillow. Seb presses a kiss to your exposed shoulder and gently presses his body against your back.

“Come onnn, I got you something.” He sings as he pokes your side.

“Is it food?”

“Not quite.”

“Then I don’t want it.” Today felt like a lazy day so you were going to do nothing but stay in bed all day.

“I swear it’s worth it come on, baby.” He tried to persuade you. His fingers against your sides slightly twitched making you jump a bit. Finally coming to your senses, you sat up and stretched your arms out. Sebastian smiles brightly at you and leans in for a kiss, but you stop him before he can come closer.

“No, morning breath.” You hand comes up to block your lips.

“I don’t care.” His response came out muffled as he pulled your hand away and pressed his lips against yours. When he pulled away he excitedly pulled you up from the bed and dragged you out the bedroom.

“What did you do?” You guys arrived in the kitchen only to see...nothing. Sebastian’s eyes widened as he internally freaks out. He subtly (not really) looks around the kitchen. He quickly glances at the front door and sees that it’s still closed. Trying to come up with an excuse he uses the first thing he sees.

“Uh, the sun looked really nice today.” He pulls you towards the window in the living room all while looking around the room.

‘Where the hell could that puppy be?” He thought to himself.

“Seb, we could barely see the sun from here.” You said as you tried to look past a building. You noticed how he got a bit antsy, but didn’t think much of it since it was probably the after jogging energy pumping through his body.

“Hmm you’re right. Hey, why don’t you go back to bed and I’ll cook some breakfast. Your surprise should be ready by then.” Seb suggested as a way to get you out of the room as quick as possible so he can find that puppy.

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” You winked. Before you can leave the room you pressed a kiss on the corner of his mouth, “Try not to take too long.”

“Yes ma’am.” He swatted your bum before you walked away from him. When he saw you enter the room and close the door he began to search the whole penthouse for the puppy.

~

When you entered the room, you headed straight for the bathroom to do your morning routine. While you were in the midst of washing your cleanser off your face you heard a bark. The sound itself made you stop what you were doing and quickly dry your face with a towel.

“Hello?” You whispered.

Suddenly from behind the bathroom door came a Golden Retriever puppy.

“Oh my god.” You gasped at the puppy in front of you, questioning if it were real or not.

“Hi baby.” You cooed as you got down to your knees in front of the puppy. The puppy approached you and pawed at your knees making you audibly “aww”. You gently pet it’s head as it leaned into your touch.

“How did you get in here, huh?” You asked as you lifted up the puppy. Holding it in your arms like a baby, you leave the room and headed straight for Sebastian.

“SEB! SEBASTIAN!!”

Seb jumps from the sound of your voice, making him hit his head on the counter he was under of.

“Yea—,” his mouth gapes at the sight of the puppy in your arms.

“Why is there a puppy in our house? Wait, is it a stray? Can we keep it?!” You began to question as you walked towards him. Seb only smiles at you as he sighs in defeat.

“Well of course you can keep him, he’s yours.” He answered. You looked up from the puppy in your arms and looked at Sebastian in disbelief.

“What do you mean?”

“This little troublemaker ruined my surprise. I know how long you’ve been wanting a dog and since we have our own place that allows pets, I decided to surprise you with a puppy.” He explains as he ruffles the puppy’s head. Tears began to form in your eyes as you held the puppy closer to you.

“You’re not lying right?” You asked just to make sure this was real.

“I would never lie to you, draga mea.” He reassured you, resting his hand on your elbow. With one arm you pulled Sebastian into a tight hug with the puppy squished between you two.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh my goodness, I love you.” You rambled as you hugged both him and the puppy as tight as you can. Letting him go, you squealed as you held up the puppy like Simba.

“I HAVE A DOG, OMG SEB IM A DOG MOM!” You jumped excitedly as Sebastian laughed at your excitement. The whole day all you could do was play with the puppy and continuously thank Sebastian for the surprise. You ended up naming the puppy Bucky.

Draga mea: my darling

[kyanitesaphire]

Lightning in a Bottle pt.6

The ride share beheading case in Boston had come to a successful end, and although he was sure to text Éclair from time to time while away, Spencer missed her. He took a seat alone in the back of the Jet, pulled up her contact information on his phone, and called her. The line only rang twice before her excited voice blessed his ear.

“Hey Spencer! How’s your work going?” She asked eagerly.

“Uh, good. We’re on our way back home now actually.” Spencer replied trying to keep his voice down and avoid drawing the attention of his fellow teammates.

“Oh! So you caught the bad guy and saved the day? That’s wonderful!” she rejoiced.

“Yeah, so listen, um….I was wondering, once I get back, did you maybe want to go out for a proper date?” he asked timidly.

“Sounds great! Did you have something in mind?” she acquiesced without hesitation. Her eagerness did much to ease his nervousness.

“I hadn’t really settled on one thing yet. I was still deciding between coffee or dinner. Unless there was something you had in mind.”

“ Those both sound good, we could do both if we went to a diner! Maybe even have breakfast for dinner with pancakes or waffles topped with whipped cream and fruit. Or we could go to a movie, and if the movie sucks we could just make out.” Éclair mused playfully. Her bold suggestion of going to the cinema for the almost sole intention of physical intimacy made his cheeks burn among other things. He subtly cleared his throat before speaking again.

“While the second option sounds… appealing… I think for tonight we should go with the first option.” Spencer replied.

“Your probably right.” She chuckled. “As much as I would absolutely love an encore of the other day, now that I’ve mentioned waffles, I’ve really got a hankering for them.”

“Than waffles you shall have.” He decreed while the indelible blush grew a few shades darker. He could hear Éclair squeal with excitement and he took a moment to relish in the sounds of her unabashed glee. “So I’ll pick you up from your place?”

“Sounds great! Text me when your on your way.” She squeaked cheerfully before hanging up.

On the other end of the Jet, the rest of the team quietly discussed Spencer’s less than covert conversation.

“He does realize he’s not fooling anyone here, right?” Rossi asked the group.

“Kid's just lookin for some privacy while he talks to his Honey.” Derek said with a side cocked smirk, displaying his brilliant white teeth.

“ She’s his honey now?” JJ remarked with slight surprise.

“He hasn’t come out and said it but come on. He thought no one saw it but I caught him texting her a few times as we were driving between sites. When has Reid been known to text anyone?” Derek explained to which JJ’s eyes widened and jaw dropped slightly.

“Reid has always kept his personal life very private, and I think it’s best we respect that.” Hotch advised with a hint of reprimand in his voice. “ But it’s nice that he’s finally met someone.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Rossi agreed raising his scotch and the others followed suit raising their own drinks.

Spencer fiddled with the buttons and seams of his long wool coat anxiously as he waited for Éclair to answer the door, but those anxieties quickly melted away with the warmth of her smile as she greeted him. It was clear Yen had a hand in getting her ready but the look suited Éclair’s style well. Her hair was lightly curled, the top portion was tied up in two sections with ribbons like half pigtails and her bells were fed through the ribbons as well. She wore a knee length flowy skirt and a fitted ¾ sleeve off the shoulder shirt. She also wasn’t wearing her usual clunky boots, instead she had on a pair of small dance heels. She grabbed her sweater and quickly slipped out of the house closing the door behind her.

“Alright, let’s get out of here shall we?” she urged grabbing Spencer’s hand.

“let’s, yes.” He managed to choke out. He lead her down to his antiquated Volvo and helped her into the passenger seat.

On the drive to the diner, Spencer told Éclair all about the case he’d just gotten back from and how he and his team tracked down the unsub. Éclair hung on his every word, enthralled by every detail. She wanted to know all about his job, and the more he talked about his coworkers and how they were like family to him, the more she wanted to get to know them too. She urged him to tell her more anecdotes of his relationship with them while over their waffle dinner, to which he obliged.

“I hope to have people like that in my life someday.” She said wistfully. “They sound amazing.”

“ They are,” He agreed . “and I know we’ve only known each other a few days, but some of them already want to meet you.”

“ Really?” She gasped excitedly.

“Yeah, mainly Garcia. She likes to know everything that happens in her friends lives. The others are mostly curious because it’s not often I have any romantic prospects in my life.” He explained as he finished off his meal.

“Mnn! Speaking of,” Éclair began as she worked to quickly swallow the mouthful of berries and whipped cream she had just shoveled in. “ so it seems Tyler and Nikki have some kind of wager going with some of the other staff at the coffee shop.”

“Oh? What about?” Spencer asked worriedly.

“Us. Some of them think we’ll be an item if we’re not already, others think I came on so strong that I probably scared you off.” She divulged, stirring her strawberry milkshake with her straw. Had Spencer still been eating, he would have choked at her words. He guppied for a brief moment as he tried to formulate the best response.

“Well, clearly you haven’t scared me off.” He started slowly, clearing his throat. “As to the first part…umm… is that something you’d be interested in?” Éclair took a long pensive sip of her shake, starring into Spencer’s eyes as she did before replying.

“Part of me kinna already thought of you as such. I know that’s supposed to be something that’s agreed upon, like what’s happening now I guess. I just don’t really understand the whole ‘ it’s complicated/ we’re not putting a label on things yet’ mentality other people have.”

“Oh thank God, it’s not just me.” Spencer half sighed half groaned in relief. “ I mean I understand some people have one night stands and friends with benefits arrangements but this whole dating without dating thing is beyond confusing.”

“I’ve heard the argument of ‘ what if it doesn’t work out?’ you break up obviously. How do you end something you never put a name to? That just makes things more complicated than they already are.” Éclair concurred with Spencer’s sentiments. “How about you? Do you want to make things official as they say?” A smile slowly crept across Spencer’s lips and a light blush dusted his cheeks.

“I’d like that very much.” He replied. Éclair beamed and bounced in her seat joyfully, he bells chiming away as she did.

As they left the diner, Éclair held Spencer’s hand and did a similar skipping dance to the one she did the day they met, like she was being moved by a song only she could hear. Spencer knew all too well how fleeting blissful moments like this can be, so he made sure to commit every detail to memory. The way her hair bounced about her bare shoulders, how her skirt swayed about her in the breeze, even the Pavlovian response he experienced at the sound of her bells.

“Oh! We should take a picture!” Éclair said abruptly turning to face Spencer and colliding into him. “ After all, today is kind of a big deal!”

“Absolutely! This is your first date isn’t it?” Spencer wrapped his arm around her waist and ushered her out of oncoming traffic and back to his car.

“Yup!” She cheered “ That’s why Yen went all out on getting me all dolled up for tonight.”

“Well she did a wonderful job. Let’s not let all that effort go to waste.” Éclair pressed her back against Spencer’s chest and he wrapped both arms around her midsection as she set her phone’s camera to selfie mode and took a picture of the two of them. Once the moment was immortalized digitally on her phone, she reached her hand behind his neck, craned her head back and kissed him. He relished in the sweet taste of strawberries and whipped cream on her tongue as deepened and reciprocated the kiss. Alas the moment of intimacy was cut short when some rowdy passengers in a passing vehicle wolf whistled and yelled out at them to get a room. Éclair was about to confront them but Spencer held her back.

“ It’s OK. This isn’t exactly the best place for this anyway. Let’s get you home, and we can pick this up another time.” He said opening the car door for her.

“Promise?” She pleaded seductively, giving his tie a slight tug towards her.

“ Did I miss your curfew or something? Are you late for you meds?” Spencer chuckled as he helped her into his car and slipped his tie out from her grasp.

“No silly! I took my meds before we left my place. Why do you ask?”

“I guess I’m just not used to this.” Spencer began to grow concerned he may have offended her with his jest.

“What? Having a girlfriend? Or being wanted?” She asked playfully.

“Both I suppose.” He replied in an almost bittersweet tone. “ But I’m sure I’ll adjust quickly.” He added with a wink before closing the car door.

“So the other day I met some people who say they knew me from before I lost my memory, but Lurch thinks I shouldn’t trust them.” Éclair explained as Spencer buckled himself into the driver’s seat and started the car.

“And what do you think? Have they given you reason to doubt them?”

“I don’t know. They seem reluctant to trust anyone, but then again I should be the same way.” Éclair considered her dilemma.

“Well, when we met, you mentioned you tend to have a sense when someone is untrustworthy or wants to harm you. Has that sense ever failed you?” Spencer asked.

“No, but then again I haven’t exactly had much of a chance for it to fail me. Lurch thinks I’m just too trusting because I haven’t felt the sting of betrayal yet, and I would be better off not to put so much blind faith in people.” She answered somewhat woefully. Spencer considered his response carefully.

“ I understand where he’s coming from. The feeling of having your trust violated is painful and something I would never want you to experience yourself. At the same time, having a mindset of trust no one so you’ll never be let down is a lonely way to live.” He said. “In my line of work, I see the worst of humanity, the dark ugly side of people. Our tech analyst Garcia likes to see the good in people. She hates knowing the horrible things we deal with day in and day out. But no matter how much evil my team and I see, and how awful I know people can be, we would never want her to lose that faith in humanity that she has. It reminds us of all the good in the world, and of what we’re protecting when we’re out there.”

“So do you think I should trust them?” She inquired as she reflected on what he’d said.

“I think you should be cautious, but I also think you should give them a chance to earn your trust, rather than assume they are unworthy of it. And if they do in fact know something about your past, wouldn’t you want to hear them out?” Spencer stated. Éclair thought about the advice given to her, considering it carefully.

Spencer walked Éclair up to her door but neither of them were in any rush to part ways.

“ I had a great time tonight. This was a wonderful first date.” Éclair praised as she ran her hands up Spencer’s chest and rested them on his shoulders.

“ Yeah, it was nice to be out with a sweet beautiful woman and not have a gun pointed at me under the table most of the night.” Spencer agreed.

“ That sounds specific. I take it there’s a story there?” She mused.

“There is. It was an undercover operation, and an experience I’d like to avoid repeating.”

“ Well maybe you can tell me all about it on our next date.”

“I like the sound of a ‘next date’” He said as he caressed her cheek.

“Me too. But for us to have a second date we kinna have to wrap up the first one. So how about we end it on high note.” She pulled him toward her so he had her pinned against the door and kissed him with intense vigor, rooting her fingers into his earthy brown hair. If it weren’t for his impeccable memory, he could almost forget she was still dressed as he ran his hands along the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders. He took particular note of how she let out a barely audible whimpering moan as his finger tips grazed along one spot of her neck just below her left ear.

Their sensual exchange was again interrupted, this time by Éclair’s phone going off.

“It’s DD. Probably making sure I’m still going to meet with him tomorrow.” She said looking at the screen.

“Than you should take the call. I’ll let you get to it. Call me if you need me Friday.” Spencer said sweetly, taking a step back “Goodnight Éclair.” Éclair blew him a kiss and mouthed a goodnight as she answered her phone and went into the house.

During the brief walk to his car, Spencer gained an added appreciation for the length of this coat.

Éclair sat in her usual seat by the window in the coffee shop, munching away on her namesake sweet, waiting for Dr.Deschamps to arrive. Just as she washed down the last bite with her hot chocolate, the door opened and her psychologist entered.

“Good morning Éclair. You seem to be in high spirits today.” Dr.Deschamps greeted her pleasantly as he took a seat across from her.

“I sure am! This week has been a big one for me. I have so much to tell you!” She said emphatically, trying to keep her excited squealing to a minimum.

“Is that so? Well then. Do tell.” He said as he pulled out his notes and a pen.

“Well, remember that guy I told you I met last week? Turns out he’s a genius who works for the FBI. We went on a date yesterday and now he’s my boyfriend!” She divulged her personal gossip while practicing bouncing in her seat.

“Oh my! That is a big deal!” the doctor was thoroughly invested in her tale and made a few notes in his file. “Not to sound skeptical of this man’s claim, but are you sure he’s actually part of the FBI and he wasn’t just making that up to impress you?”

“ Lurch looked him up and he’s the real deal. Also he just got back from a case. While he was away he had to do a press statement and I looked it up to see him. Oh and they can vouch for him too.” She explained pointing to Nikki and Tyler.

“I see! Well then, sounds like you found yourself quite the catch.” He said making a few more notes. “ Tell me, how does being around him make you feel?”

“Really happy! He super sweet. And really cute!” she gushed nipping at the rim of her cup.

“That’s all well and good, but that’s not quite what I meant. I’m asking in regards to your…urges. Do you find them difficult to control?” He tried to explain himself as delicately as possible.

“Oh! Yeah, I would say they become uncontrollable, but well when I said he’s really cute, I mean he’s like really, really, really,…right here!” she cut herself off and waved her arm up high towards the door where Spencer had just walked in. She beckoned him over frantically , and he couldn’t deny her with her brilliant smile that brightened his day.

“Hey! I hope I’m not interrupting.” Spencer said as he approached the table. Éclair jumped up from her seat and embraced Spencer tightly.

“ I was just telling DD about you!” she announced gleefully. “Your outfit’s cute! It makes you look like Blathers!” She giggled while examining Spencer’s brown argyle sweater and brown tweed suit ,to which he bashfully smoothed out his clothes before addressing DD.

“Dr.Deschamps! It’s good to see you again.” Spencer greeted with a wave.

“Yes…I’m sorry, you seem so familiar yet I can’t put a name to your face.” Deschamps set his notes down and focused his attention on Spencer.

“That’s alright. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. We met briefly at a conference a few years back.”

“Ah! Dr. Reid! I remember now. Academically brilliant, not so much comically if memory serves.” Deschamps reminisced with a pained grimace.

“yeah, I’ve been told humor isn’t my strong suit.” Spencer laughed.

“ Éclair had requested her files to share with someone she’d met, I presume that was you?”

“Yes, and I’ve gone through all of it.”

“And I have no doubt you understood everything.” Deschamps pulled out one of his cards from his breast pocket. “Normally I wouldn’t ask this, but I’d like you to take my card and call me if you notice any unusual or alarming behavior with Éclair.”

“ That’s an unusual request. May I ask why?” Spencer asked as he examined the card and pocketed it.

“ I’m sure Éclair has mentioned her reservations regarding Dr. Jericho.” Spencer nodded. “ Well I have my own. He’s not very forthcoming with her scans or her treatments. This makes my job difficult. Herald Lurch also gives me updates and Éclair is aware of it. As her…romantic companion… you may see different facets or manifestations of her known conditions that may need to be monitored. If it helps, we can discuss this request in further detail later.”

“ I think I’ll take you up on that.” Spencer agreed.

“ Hey lover boy! How many sugar are we doing today?” Tyler hollered out to Spencer holding a paper cup in the air for demonstration.

“Just two today, thanks.” Spencer answered. “I should be on my way, I don’t want to be late for work. It was nice seeing you again Dr. Deschamps, and you too Éclair.” He pressed his forehead to hers affectionately. She closed the gap between them and kissed him quickly on the lips before they parted ways.

“Isn’t he sweetest! Back on Friday, Lurch told him I was having a real bad time after my visit with Dr. Jericho and that he should bring me some comfort food. He remembered my I love eclairs and got me a whole box of them!” Éclair raved as she watched him hustle past the café through the window.

“How did his visit affect your mood that day?” Deschamps asked pulling up his notes again.

“I felt better. A lot better.” She replied, doe eyed in reflection. “I slept a lot better next to him too. It’s like when two otters hold hands so they don’t drift apart. I never had that before, but with him I finally feel like I’m tethered in one place.” She pulled out her phone and opened up her photo gallery for Deschamps.

“Interesting. I see you’ve taken a selfie here. That’s new.” Deschamps observed as he scrolled through the camera roll.

“ Spencer said it was odd that I didn’t have pictures of myself especially since I was keeping a photo journal of myself. I had never thought of that before. The selfie I took last night on our date, he took this picture of me the day we met.”

“I can see he makes you very happy. This is good, for many reasons.” He concluded returning her phone.

[eideticmemory]

FINE LINE II | SPENCER REID

Two kids and two decades of history later, you and your ex-husband learn to navigate the world of co-parenting. PART 2! Read Part One.

Word Count: 3,643.

Warning: Daddy Issues, mommy issues, angst, drama, romance. Love to see it.

Spencer’s a deep sleeper; both E and Em get it from him. But the one thing that all three of them are trained to wake up to, is your voice.

“Hey!” You snapped at Spencer, landing a harsh blow beside his sleeping frame.

He jolted awake in familiar frenzy, reaching out to grab you, make sure you were safe.

“Hey, hey, it’s me,” you spoke. “Look, I need a favor.”

“A favor?” he muttered.

“Yes,” you nodded. “You wanna be here for a few days? I need some help. Take the kids to school today.”

“Wha—“

“Or let E drive your car, it doesn’t matter, she’s a good driver,” you shrugged. “They need to be there at 8:15 sharp or else the administration has a stick up their ass. They’ll wake themselves up, dress themselves — stylishly — and feed themselves. And, uh, if you make them late, they’ll lose their minds so try to be out of here by 8, okay? Okay. Thank you.”

“Wait, wait, wait, [y/n],” Spencer called, holding your hand in his palm. “Where are you going?” He weakly pat around the mattress, searching for his phone, and when he grabbed the device in his hand, he checked the time. “It’s six in the morning.”

“So?”

“So,” he sighed, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. You subtly averted your eyes to avoid seeing him shirtless, the duvet cover falling to his lap. “You didn’t get home until two in the morning.”

“You spying on me?” You asked.

“No, I just . . . can’t sleep knowing you’re out late at night—“

“Working,” you interjected.

“Working . . . and now you’re up four hours later?” He questioned.

“We could sit here and argue about who has a more messed up work schedule, or you can take the kids to school, just this once, and I’ll pick them up.”

“No, I’ll pick them up, don’t worry about it,” Spencer shrugged. “You go to work, I’ve got it.”

You sighed, “Are you actually staying until Sunday?”

“[y/n]—“

“No, Mr. Unit Chief, how did you get the week off from the BAU? Hm? It — it just doesn’t make sense.”

“So that’s what you wanted to ask me last night . . . why not just say it, [y/n]?”

“Don’t profile me, it’s valid question.”

“Listen,” he squeezed your hand lightly, just enough that the pressure silenced you. “I am off of work until Monday morning. You need me to drop off and pick up the kids? I can do that. Need me to feed them? I can do that, too. I can do it every day this week if you want. If you need to be at work, then go.”

You inhaled deeply, and released it in a sharp breath. “Thanks,” you shrugged. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

The drive to your office was silent. Full of nothing but your thoughts and rambles and quiet scoffs. You missed the kids. Missed being with them in early hours like this, eating breakfast on the go, singing along to the radio. But your mind needed time to rest, to regroup away from Spencer and his sudden appearance.

When you arrived at work, you stumbled in to find an earlier bird than you. “Raven . . .” you mumbled. “I told you to go home, babe.”

“And I told you that this is getting in at 7:30 sharp . . .” she cleared her throat and glanced at you apologetically. “Boss. . .”

You sighed and shrugged, “Do you need help?”

“Nope,” she shook her head. “I’m right on schedule.”

You chuckled, full of pride, “Good.” You wandered over to your private office and secluded yourself behind the glass doors. Taking a seat at your desk, you plopped down with a tired huff. You rested your head on your folded arms, and just as you began to snore, your phone rang in your ear. You jumped up in a daze, groaning out at the device in frustration. When you picked it up, however, and saw who was calling, you gasped, whined, fell back childishly in your chair.

You sighed, answering the facetime, “Hi, Penelope.”

“Don’t ‘hi, Penelope” me,” she replied, her phone showing her dressed and sipping on a cup of tea. “I had to find out from Emily that Spencer is staying the week with you and the kids? How is this possible?”

“Pen—“

“Hold on.”

Suddenly, your screen revealed another person being added to the call. “Pen, why did you add Em— . . . Emily, hi.”

“What the hell is going on? [y/n]? Did you call me?” Emily hollered into her car speaker, focusing on the road ahead of her as she speaks.

“I did not call, Penelope called, I was ambushed,” you explained.

“No, no, you do not have Spencer spending the entire week at your house — for the first time, I might add — and not tell me,” Penelope interjected. “How are you? How are the kids? How did this happen? Are you two talking? Are you—“

“I told Penelope that Spencer requested the week off,” Emily said. “I thought you had already told her.”

“Yeah, Section Chief, how about some warning there? How did Spencer even get so much time off?” You rambled.

“Woah, woah,” Emily crowed. “Don’t shoot the messenger, he had more than enough vacation time saved up. He could’ve taken the entire month off and not lost a dime. There was nothing I could do. Plus, I thought, maybe . . .”

“Maybe. . .what?” You questioned.

“Maybe you and him had talked things out and . . .”

“Oh, my goodness,” Penelope exclaimed. “Are you guys back together?”

“No!” You shout. You sighed, “No . . . Spencer and I are not back together. He just . . . showed up. I called him to talk about E’s birthday party and he . . . well he says he’s staying until Sunday. Which is, perfect. Perfect in theory, if he actually stays. But he’s getting the kids’ hopes up and I hate that.”

“Yeah . . .” Emily snickered. “He’s getting the kids’ hopes up?”

“Emily Prentiss, do not profile me. Not you. I swear . . .”

Emily busted out laughing. “I mean, honey,” Penelope whispered. “I’m profiling you right now.”

“And with that, we must say goodbye,” you hummed happily as you pressed the button to hang up.

It was Wednesday. Wednesday. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. So, five days with the man, at most. Then he goes back to DC, and those beautiful ninety miles are between you two again. Unless you do therapy, which you won’t, because it’s an awful idea and — you don’t want to think about Spencer Reid this much. You can’t. But you check the clock and it’s 7:45 and he needs to get the kids out the door soon. Should you call? You should call. Okay, call. No, text E.

Y: hey girlie!! 🥰 had to leave early this morning, is dad taking you to school?

E: hey mom 🥺 yeah dad’s taking us!! we’re getting breakfast right now from chick-fil-a and he’s letting me drive his car!!

Y: oh wow! don’t hit any cows out there!

E: ha ha ha so funny ur hilarious

Y: love you 💕 💗 ❤️

E: love you ✨✨

Okay. They’re up. They’re happy. That’s good. They’re smiles are going to get you through the week. They always do.

When you get home that afternoon, Spencer and the kids were laughing, playing cards against each other in the kitchen.

“I hope you guys aren’t gambling in here, because that’s more of a living room activity,” you laughed to announce your presence.

“Hey, [y/n],” Spencer greeted you. “Come play!”

“I’m good,” you nodded.

“See? I told you guys she won’t play against me. She never has and never will,” he told the kids. They giggled.

“Oh, please, you say that like I’m scared to play against you,” you snickered.

“Well? Are you?” He asked, a hint of arrogance in his voice.

“Absolutely not,” you set your things down on the counter and joined them at the table. “Continue your game, though, because I would be scared to play against the kids.”

Spencer gave you this look out of the corner of his eye, his iris looking at you under his eyelashes and a light smile on his face.

Maybe these next four days won’t be so bad.

They were more than not so bad. They weren’t bad at all. They were blissful and full of smiles and laughter and fun family dinners every night, and you’d never felt so productive. You cleared two major social work cases at the job, thanks to Spencer’s help with the kids. Friday night, you came home to the backyard fully decorated for tomorrow’s party. Spencer had recieved the chair delivery and set everything up behind the house, surrounded each table with a handful of chairs and the proper decorations sat in the center. You absorbed it all in complete and utter shock. You were prepared to spend all of tonight and tomorrow morning doing this. And Spencer took care of it all.

“What do you think?” Spencer grinned, him and E standing in the center of the backyard proudly. “Took us hours but it’s all set. Now we just need the food and the people.”

E chuckled, “What do ya’ think, mom?”

“I. . .” you whispered. “I think it looks gorgeous. You guys did amazing.”

“Thank you,” she pipped, grinning happily. “I think so, too. Oh, c’mon, dad, let me show you my party dress!”

As they rushed into the house, Spencer pinched onto your shoulder lightly, smirking as he passed you by. Your stomach filled with an unshakable and startling feeling. It had you rocking on your heels trying to process it and breathe through it.

Saturday morning, you woke up at 9 o’clock as planned. E would be up in another hour, so you had plenty of time to sort out the last few details of her party. The guest list was just above 80 people, and you had to make sure you had ordered enough food to feed them all. You had to check in with the caterer, the baker, Spencer.

You knocked on the door heavily, before wandering in, expecting him to be dead asleep. When you walked in and saw the bed empty and well made, you stopped in your tracks.

“What the hell?” You muttered, stomping over to the bed, and snatching up the note on the pillow.

My dearest [y/n]

Gone out to run some birthday errands. Kiss the birthday girl for me.

Spencer

Errands? What errands? Is he serious? You sighed, and pulled your phone from your back pocket. You dialed Spencer’s number and held the phone to your ear, only to be greeted with an immediate voicemail. You furrowed your eyebrows and huffed angrily.

You drafted and sent a text to him, desperately wishing you were more surprised by this:

Be back by 4 please.

No answer.

You carried on the day with one mission: keep things under control and keep E’s mind off of Spencer. You let her stay cornered in her room, bringing her breakfast and an iced coffee, and kissing her on the top of her head.

“I can’t believe 16 years ago today, I was laid up in a hospital bed, screaming my head off, cursing at the nurses, when this tiny, slimy thing just . . . popped out of me.”

“Most people just say happy birthday,” Eden cringed.

“Happy birthday, babe,” you giggled. “You have no idea what you’ve done for me just by existing.”

“That’s more like it,” she nodded happily. “Thank you. Is dad here?”

“Uh, no,” you said quickly, prepared for the question. “He went to take care of some stuff for the party, he’ll be back before the party starts, though. Will Francesca be coming over today?”

“Oh. Okay. Uh, yeah. She’s coming to do my makeup.”

“Awesome,” you smiled, standing up. “Well, birthday girl, you get glitzy and glammy, and get ready for the party of a lifetime.”

“Mom . . . is everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Stop that, don’t worry about anything today, okay? Things are fine.”

“Okay,” she nodded. She trusted you. For 16 years, since the minute she was born, she’s trusted you. “Okay.”

Eden’s godmother was the first to show up. Penelope Garcia live and in the flesh. She barged into the house the moment you opened the door to greet her, and she rushed up the stairs.

“Pen, she is getting ready—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I understand the importance of a teenage girls appearance, but I haven’t seen either of the kids in so long.”

“It’s been a month, Pen.”

“Way too long . . . Penelope!” She called out for Eden.

E perked her head up in her room, stopping her best friend, Francesca, from doing her eye makeup. “Auntie P?” She murmured and turned to the door.

Penelope opened the bedroom door joyfully, smiling ear to ear when she saw E. “Little Penelope!” She shouted, excitedly clapping her hands.

E hopped up from her seat and ran over to Penelope, practically jumping into her arms.

“Oh, happy birthday, babygirl!” Penelope cooed. “I can’t believe how big you are!”

“Thank you,” E smiled, her face tucked into Penelope’s shoulder.

You watched them, close to tears yourself to see them together. There were 5 people in the room when Eden Penelope Reid was born 16 years old ago. The doctor, 2 nurses, you — of course — and Penelope Garcia. It was the scariest thing you’d ever been through. And at your side, for 10 hours of labor, was Penelope. She held your hand, spoke softly to distract you from the pain, and encouraged you as you went through delivery. When Eden came into the world, it was no question what her middle name would be.

Penelope helped E prepare as you kept the business rolling in. Food, lights, cutlery, plates. You were rushing and running for hours. You barely just had time to shower and get yourself ready, let alone make sure Em put on the outfit you picked out for him. Luckily, Penelope got him dressed and sat with a good book so you could get yourself together.

The clock struck 4 in the afternoon, signaled by an alarm on your phone, and you had just stepped out of the bathroom. You slipped on a floral dress, befitting of a mother on a special day. Hair in place, dress without wrinkles, shoes to match, guests rolling in, and . . . oh yeah, still no Spencer. Countless calls and texts to him went unanswered, and you were running out of excuses to tell the kids.

When your last and final call to him went straight to voicemail, you left a message.

“Spencer, I don’t know where you are, and I want you to know that, right now, I don’t care. It’s a quarter after 4, and people are showing up, and the show must go on, so . . . show up, don’t show up. Keep us on our toes, it doesn’t matter. I hope you’re okay. Bye.”

Dropping you phone on your bed, you gave it one more glance as you left the room.

Music rang throughout the backyard, packed with people by the time it was 5:30. Eden brought the whole BAU together — visited by Penelope, Emily, Matt, Tara, Derek, Hotch, and Luke who brought his and Penny’s baby boy along.

E was in heaven, reunited with some of her closest cousins. It was turning into a good day, without Spencer. But there was a hole caused by his absence that no one could fill. And you know this because you’ve been trying to fill it all of Eden’s life.

While your little girl is quite the social butterfly, sometimes that social battery of hers can wear low. Particularly when she’s overwhelmed by attention, or stress, or her own genius thoughts.

Luckily, she gets that from you, and you two have a tendency to find similar places to hide. She found you sitting on the back patio, hidden in the corner. “Hey, pretty girl!” you smiled. “Having fun?”

“Yeah,” she giggled. “You?”

“Eh, it’s an alright party,” you joked.

“So . . . do you know where dad is?”

You released a long exhale and hesitated for a good, long few seconds. “No.”

She nodded, “Cool. That’s cool.”

“E—“

“Penelope, come here!” Penelope suddenly screamed from the front door.

“Coming!” E called back. “I have to attend to my guests, excuse me.” She giggled, and you smiled at her as she walked away.

You relaxed back against the wall of the house, watching your friends and family rejoice in the backyard. Over the music, you heard the curling sound of a scream. Eden’s scream. And you ran like you’ve never ran in your life.

“Oh, my God,” she cried. “Oh, my God!”

You were confused and a bit scared and very eager to see what had her so overwhelmed. And when you rounded the corner, coming face to face with the front door, you gasped, stopping on your tippy toes like you were knocked in the face by an invisible force.

“Ah! Piccolo genio! Happy birthday!” Rossi said to your daughter as he held her in a tight hug. He pulled away to hold her face in his hands lovingly. “It is incredible to see the person you have become. Goodness! You know who you look just like?” He questioned.

Rossi spun on his heels, facing himself in your direction with open arms. “Her,” he said. “You look just like her.” He stepped towards you slowly, “My goodness, someone would think it was your sweet sixteen we’re celebrating.”

You laughed and shook your head, blinking away the tears of joy in your eyes. “Flattery is not gonna make me forget that a certain someone doesn’t know how to visit more often.”

“Italy to Virginia is a long flight, my dear,” he pulled you into a tight hug. A secure hug. Full of safety and love and memories. “But I will have to make it more.”

You burrowed yourself into his chest, smiling to yourself at the sound of his voice.

“[y/n],” he whispered. “How are you?”

You did nothing but let out a long, long, long sigh.

“We’ll talk,” he nodded.

“Now,” he pulled away from the hug to hold you against his side. “Since I am here, the party may now . . . begin.”

As everyone followed Eden and Rossi through the house, you were left in the entrance with Spencer, who was eyeing you shyly with his hands in his pockets.

“Got caught up at the airport,” he explained.

You gave him the teeniest, tiniest half smile, and let out a faint laugh, “C’mon, Spencer.”

Later that night, when it was just you, Spencer, and the rest of the BAU veterans, he offered to help you clean up. You stood in front of the sink, scrubbing at a dirty pan as music played softly in the background.

“[y/n]?” Spencer whispered to you as he placed leftovers in the fridge. “What’s on your mind?”

You shook your head, and turned briefly to give him a solemn smile, “I never had a sixteenth birthday party,” you told him, returning your attention to the dishes. “Did you?”

He chuckled to himself, “No,” he said. “I had a psychology exam the day of my sixteenth birthday. I took it and then read for the rest of the night.”

“I had a trigonometry exam on my sixteenth birthday,” you shrugged.

“Oh, yeah? How’d you do?” he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes at him, “I did alright . . . then I went back to my charity dorm on MIT’s campus, and had some microwaved pasta.”

Spencer let out a soft sigh, and stepped over to you, “Life of a child prodigy, right?”

“But not for E. Not for Em. All I ever wanted was for them to be extraordinary, and live an ordinary life. High IQ, be damned, it’s what they deserve.” You rambled. After a few minutes of silence, you glanced at Spencer, who was eyeing you sympathetically. “Don’t profile me, Spencer Reid, we’ve talked about this.”

“I’m not profiling you!” He laughed.

“You are,” you said.

“I am not. If anything, you’re profiling me right now.”

“Profiling you profiling me?”

“Exactly—what? No!” he said through constant laughter.

You smirked at him, hiding a smile behind the expression. “I don’t need to profile you, Spencer. I know you.”

“I—“

“I know you.” You enunciated. “I know you.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “You do.”

You knew you had to tear yourself away from those big brown eyes as soon as possible, or risk major emotional turmoil. So, you focused on the dishes as you spoke, “I’ve been thinking . . . maybe therapy . . . wouldn’t be so bad.”

Spencer’s eyes went wide, “Really?”

“Really, it’s about twenty years too late, but . . .” You nodded. “I guess a part of that whole ordinary lives thing for the kids is having parents that actually get along, so . . . I’ll try it.”

“Thank you, [y/n], thank you so much,” he said. “I already made us an appointment here in Charlottesville for next Friday.”

You scoffed. You should’ve been mad, annoyed. But all you could think was: yeah, I definitely married a scorpio.

“Fi—“ you mumbled, in the midst of rolling your eyes when a gust of movement caught your attention. Outside of the kitchen window, to the side of the house, was E. E and some boy. A handsome boy. You couldn’t tell if he looked familiar. Well. Yeah, he kinda did.

“[y/n]?” Spencer called to you, when he suddenly noticed Eden. “Do . . . do you know him? [y/n]?”

You watched as the kid handed E a birthday gift and placed a kiss to her cheek. She blushed softly and looked down. No. No, you didn’t know him. She hadn’t told you about him.

Another part of the whole ordinary life thing. A part that you had completely forgotten about.

Boys.

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[rosyfingereddawnn]

only the black rose (chapter 6)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: jimmy page’s stubbornness (and his stressy hands), exposing jpj as the mom friend, fluff

words: 3.4k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: so this one was fun, but we’re getting into the nitty-gritty of this fic :)) hope you enjoy, and please if you have any feedback it would be much appreciated!

masterlist

playlist

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

--------

“Mr. Page, you must be extremely careful when taking these,” Dr. Vane lectures, shaking a bottle of pills. “They should help with the pain, but they are very strong.”

Jimmy sits on the side of his hospital bed, hunched over like a young child being lectured for their misbehaviour. His hands are balled into fists, though the injured finger is coiled much looser. In the corner of the small, sterile room, Robert and Bonzo glance at each other, noticing the way Jimmy grits his teeth, curling and uncurling his hands on his lap. He wants out of here, and fast: that’s plain to see.

“Doc, is Jimmy free to go?” Bonzo breaks the fragile silence that had settled over the group, pushing himself off the wall he had been leaning against.

“The anaesthetic has mostly worn off, so he should be good to go when he’s ready,” Dr. Vane turns to Jimmy then, mouth a serious, somber line. “Mr. Page—”

“Please, call me Jimmy.”

“Jimmy, I recommend taking a pill from the bottle we’ve supplied you, very soon. The pain should come back, due to the anaesthetics being out of your system. These are codeine tablets, and like I said before, they are very strong…”

Jimmy tunes out most of the doctor’s words from that point on, too preoccupied with thoughts of the upcoming tour. He knows Jonesy would memorize whatever the good doctor says anyways, the mother hen. Jimmy didn’t realize he had been shaking with anxiety until a cold hand lay across his, pinning it to the bed. He looks beside him, and on the bed sits Layla, brown ringlets a mess from their lie-down in the hospital bed. Jimmy stares back, enchanted by the woman in front of him, as he always is when she’s near. Still holding his gaze, Layla smiles, a question clear in her doe eyes.

“Are you okay, Jim?” she whispers, drawing nonsensical patterns on the back of his hand. He nods, flattened curls bobbing with the movement. Layla isn’t fully convinced, but she lets it go, vowing to keep an eye on the man.  Bringing her attention back to Dr. Vane, Layla asks the question on everybody’s lips.

“Dr. Vane, I heard you talking to Peter about this last night… Do we know for sure if he can play or not?”

Silence falls once again like a cloud over the group, as the doctor taps his chin in thought. The mighty Led Zeppelin wait with bated breath to hear the fate of their guitarist.

“I would…” Dr. Vane clears his throat, face apologetic as he glances around the room. “I would advise against it. Ultimately it is not up to me, of course. I can’t make you do anything, but Jimmy, you need to recuperate.”  

The room feels as though all the energy had been sucked right out of it, as Jimmy fiddles with a loose thread on the hospital gown he was wearing, disheveled locks obscuring his handsome face as he looks down at his socked feet. Jonesy looks on with pinched features, concerned for the man, while Robert and Bonzo sigh, sharing another wordless glance. Things just got a lot more complicated, it said. Peter sends Jimmy a smile dripping with sympathy, and walks out the door, no doubt to make some important calls.

“Why don’t we all step out of the room, so Jimmy here can get dressed?” Dr. Vane suggests, and the group files out slowly. Layla stands up to follow, stopping in her tracks almost immediately. She turns around then, meeting Jimmy’s sad eyes, gleaming like a diamond in the morning sun, and walks towards him.

“Petal, I don’t…” Jimmy mutters, trailing off, dark curls a veil, hiding him from the world once again. Layla stops in front of him and tips his head up, a familiar hand on his chin. She runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back to see the man’s face. There are stress lines on his forehead, and his eyes are glassy with unshed tears, shining in the artificial hospital light. He looks as beautiful as he always does, to Layla. Jimmy’s lips quirk up subtly in the semblance of a grin, and he presses a kiss to the woman’s wrist.

“You’ll be okay. I believe in you, and you’ll get through this.”

“How can you be so—”

Layla leans down, face to face with the man, and swallows his words with a chaste press of her lips to his. It wasn’t a particularly heavy kiss; their lips moving together softly, but it meant more than either would ever know. It was a kiss of comfort. Finally pulling away, Layla places a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder and squeezes lightly, before turning on her heel and walking out the door, leaving the man to get dressed.

Stepping out of the room, she is met with serious faces and whispered discussions of the injured guitarist. Robert and Bonzo are against the far wall, chatting quietly, while Peter, further down the hall, is using the hospital phone, no doubt to see what can be done about the tour. Layla turns her head, and sees Jonesy, who looks up as she nears him.

“Hey, Layla. How are you holding up?”

“I’m not the one with a fractured finger.” Layla snaps, immediately regretting it. She opens her mouth to speak, but Jonesy beats her to it.

“No, you’re not,” The bassist puts a hand on her arm, smiling wryly. “But you care about him. Just because he’s hurting, doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to.”

“Jonesy, I…  I’m sorry for snapping at you, I’m just—”

“You’re concerned, and that’s okay. Don’t worry, I get it.”

“But I snapped at you, and you didn’t deserve it, in any way.”

“Layla,” Jonesy presses closer to her as he says this, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace. “I know you didn’t mean it. We’re okay.”

Layla looks up at the man, a hint of skepticism apparent on her face. Not believing that he forgave her so easily, so completely, she presses on further.

“Jonesy, how can you be fine with—”

“Look, Layla,” Jonesy chuckles, looking down at her fondly, much to her confusion. “We can talk about your guilt complex later if you need, but I think there’s someone you might want to see.”

“Guilt complex? I don’t—” 

Layla spins around as a soft click echoes off the walls, and spots Jimmy, who shyly closes the door to his room. Dressed in a pair of dark flared jeans and a crisp white button up, a black suede coat folded over his arm, he looks sheepish as he walks towards the group, shoulders almost up to his ears. Peter, noticing the entrance of his guitarist, hangs up the phone with a hasty goodbye, turning to face the band.

“Right. Now, we’ve got a lot to talk about,” Peter starts, biting back a sigh. “Let’s all ride back to Swan Song, and go over our options.”

After a short car ride devoid of any chatter, the group finally walk through the double doors of the building, faces drawn and severe. Evelyn, at her post by the front desk, notices the lack of chatter and giggles that usually fill the room whenever the band enters. Finding Layla’s eyes, she reads the worry and concern in them, and lets her smile fall, snuffing out the light that always seems to surround the receptionist. Evelyn walks up to the young woman, placing a hand on Layla’s arm as she turns around to face the receptionist.

“Is everything okay, darling?” Evelyn asks, confusion in her hazel eyes as she stares at the retreating backs of Peter and the boys.

“I hope so,” Layla replies, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of her neck. “There was… an accident, and everything's a little up in the air. I’m sorry, Evelyn, I wish I could stay and chat, but—”

“Oh no, go ahead, darling. Go figure things out.”

With a grateful smile and a nod, Layla rushes to catch up with the group, slipping into the room behind Robert, the mahogany door shutting behind them to prevent prying eyes.

----------

Standing stock-still in Peter’s office, Layla glances around the luxurious office, taking in the grim faces of her companions. A soft cough echoes off the walls, courtesy of Robert, Layla guesses, if his guilty expression and the hand pressed to his mouth are anything to go by. All eyes are downcast, as hands fold over each other to distract from the silence pressing down on them. It feels like the walls are closing in on them ever-so-slowly, set to suffocate them, until Peter, sitting at the large wooden desk, clears his throat, clapping his hands together. Attention firmly on him, Peter begins to speak, his often kind voice determined.

“I’ve been calling around, and it seems as though we have two options: we postpone the tour for a later date, so Jimmy can heal… Or we continue with the tour as planned,” Peter explains, shifting his gaze to Jimmy now. “Jimmy, how is the finger feeling?”

“It’s good, I took some pain meds earlier. I can tour still.”

“Jim, you haven’t played on it yet.”

“It’ll hold up. I’m fine.”

There’s movement in the corner, as Bonzo crosses his arms over his chest, green eyes soft as he glances at Jimmy.

“Jimmy, I really don’t know if this is the best idea.” This is met by a look of betrayal, Jimmy turning around in his seat to face the drummer.

“Bonzo, I really am fine.”

“Look,” Bonzo presses on, meeting the guitarist’s eyes. “I know you don’t want to let anyone down. The thing is, you wouldn't be in the first place, Pagey. If this injury gets worse, because you played when you shouldn't have…” Bonzo trails off, averting his gaze now, Jimmy’s eyes on him too much to bear.

“Bonzo’s right, Jim,” comes from beside Layla, as Jonesy pushes off the wall to make his point. “Taking some time off would be good, we don’t want to make anything worse.”

“Nearly 18 months is enough time off, Jonesy. Any longer and the fans won’t even remember who Led Zeppelin is. I’m ready.”

“Jimmy, really—” Robert’s reply is cut off by the guitarist’s normally soft voice, hardened with frustration.

“Shows have already been sold out. All the arrangements have been made. Peter, call them back. We’re doing this tour.”

“Pagey… Alright. I’ll call them back, if you’re sure.”

“I am.” This is followed by the scrape of the chair he had pulled up to the desk against the floor, as he stands, and storms out. The remaining occupants of the room lock eyes, panic apparent.

“I’ll go after him.” Layla murmurs, starting towards the door. She knew exactly where she would find him, after all. Easily finding her way through the hallways of the massive building, she opens the door to the studio, spotting him slumped on the drum riser. Guitar in hand, he raises the bruised finger in the air, grip on the fretboard bordering on awkward. Jimmy strums, letting out a wince as the pain rears once again. A grunt full of frustration grinds out past his lips, and he tries again.

“Are you supposed to be doing that? Doctor’s orders, and all.”

Jimmy lifts his head to glance at her, and, with the hint of a sneer at the sarcastic comment, he resumes his playing. Layla huffs, and moves closer, taking in the man before her. His dark hair is falling into his face, casting shadows upon it, and his jaw is clenched, ready to snap as he misses yet another note. Jimmy lets out another frustrated sound, and swipes the hair out of his eyes, as if that was exactly what was messing him up.

Layla takes a seat on the drum riser next to him, and watches, as he fumbles a note she’s seen him perfect many times. Before he can adjust his grip on the fretboard to try again, Layla places a hand on the man’s strumming hand, and keeps it there. Jimmy looks up at her, a glint of determination in his mossy green eyes, brown in the lighting of the studio. His hair shines, jet black curls messy, as though he’s been running his hands through it more often than not. Eyes dropping to his guitar in embarrassment, he opens his mouth to speak, Layla beating him to it in the end.

“Jim, it won’t get better if you keep straining it like this. You know that.”

“Are you here to tell me to give it a rest too? Cause if you are, you might as well just—”

“I’m here,” Layla starts, shaking her head at the stubborn nature of the guitarist. “Because I trust you. You’re the only one that knows how you feel, and I trust you.”

“You do?” Jimmy says, looking up in confusion.

“I do, angel. If you think you’re ready, then I’ll trust that,” Jimmy takes his good hand off the guitar and threads it through hers, caressing the back of it with his thumb in thanks. Layla looks down at their joined hands, and continues. “If you’re rushing this for the fans, though, or because of whatever crazy scenario you’ve thought up in that brain of yours, I think I’m allowed to say I told you so.” The couple smirk at each other, as Jimmy gives the hand in his a warning squeeze.

“Okay, mum.”

Layla unlinks their hands to give him a soft shove to the side, the beginnings of a smile tilting her lips upward. Gripping his arm, she hoists him up to a standing position, and he goes willingly. Jimmy places his guitar carefully back in its rightful place, and stretches out a hand for Layla to take. Walking out of the studio together, hope settles over them like a well-worn blanket.

Hope that everything will be okay.

----------

“Please, just don’t push too hard. You’ve got this, angel.”

After dedicating just under a week to perfecting a new guitar technique, and making adjustments to the original setlist, the band waits in the dressing room of the Metropolitan  Sports Center, native to Bloomington Minnesota. Layla’s palm raises, stopping to rest on Jimmy’s shoulder, as he looks down at her, his furrowed eyebrows betraying the picture of calm he was trying to emulate. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to her forehead, and pulls her to his chest, arms wrapping themselves around her back.

“You can do this. Just remember that, okay?” This is followed by a nod from the dark-haired guitarist, as he smiles gratefully at Layla. A chorus of groans sound from behind them, and, turning around, they are met by the exasperated faces of the others. Already dressed in their stage clothes, they look ready to perform.

“Are you lovebirds done? Bloody saps,” Robert grumbles, the corner of his lip raising in a smirk, the playfulness in his tone obvious. “We’ve got a show to play.”  

Following the boys backstage, Layla watches as they slip past the velvet curtain and onto the stage, ecstatic and powerful under the bright lights around them. They pick up their instruments, and with a collective breath and a look shared between them, the band does what they do best: play. The boys launch in, and Layla can’t help but be brought back to the last concert she witnessed. The atmosphere and the enthusiasm amongst the crowd was infectious, and Layla smiles as she looks out from the wings. Robert commands the stage, as usual, while Bonzo and Jonesy link up almost telepathically, creating a beat almost heaven-sent. Jimmy, for as awkward as it looks, three usable fingers grappling with the fretboard, makes the guitar scream and cry and sing. The winces of pain that she can see from her spot are worrying, though. To an outsider, it would seem as though he was simply somewhere else, the guitar becoming one with its handler.

But Layla knows better. She can see the exhaustion in his face, from hours spent bent over his guitar, adjusting the way he’s played for most of his life. She can see the lines of discomfort around his mouth, his lips bitten red out of concentration, from trying his absolute best to put on a good show. As she leaves her post near the stage to tune up Jimmy’s guitars for the next numbers, just as Peter had asked her to, she can’t help but let out a nervous sigh. Layla has seen how just stubborn the man is, how much he wants to succeed, and please the audience. She knows he’ll leave everything out there on stage. She just wonders how much of him there will be left over, in the end.

Completing the rest of the menial backstage tasks, the brunette walks back to the mouth of the backstage area, intercepting the boys as they come off after a thrilling encore, the deafening cheers of the crowd following them as they exit.

“If you keep this up, you’ll really get popular! I’m just kidding, but really, guys, that was incredible,” Layla raves, accompanying them to the dressing room. Bonzo sidles up next to her, wrapping an amicable arm around her as they walk, basking in the glow of her kind words. “All of you did such an amazing job!”

“Do we get a kiss now? Last time you saw us perform, Jimmy got one…” Robert asks, flipping his hair, damp and dark with sweat, off his shoulder.

“You’d like that, wouldn't you, Robert?” Layla chuckles, throwing a smile at him over her shoulder.

“Hey, it’s only fair!”

“In what way is that fair?”

The group finally reach the dressing room, lounging on the comfortable chairs strewn across the room. The boys take turns changing out of their stage clothes, and greet the guests in the room, shaking hand after hand. Soft laughter trickles like a steady stream in the background as Layla, sitting on a loveseat with Jimmy, places a hand on his thigh, prompting his eyes to meet hers.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, petal.” Jimmy’s voice is soft, faraway as his hand meets hers on his lap. The guitarist lets out a sigh, staring at the wall, expression neutral.

“That was a great performance, Jim. I hope you know that.”

“It was… good. It could've been better.”

“You know, I really am so proud of you,” Layla says, turning his head to face her, her fingers at his jaw. She looks deep into his eyes, and he stares back, an unreadable expression on his face. She’s always been able to read him, since the day she met him. Layla feels a pang in her heart, and continues. “It was great, and you made a lot of people happy… even if you’re not 100% yet.”

This is met with silence, as Jimmy lowers his head, hair falling into his eyes. He’s developed a habit of this now, and Layla resolves to break him out of that. His beautiful eyes make her day, after all. Reminders of their stay at the hospital flash through Layla’s mind, and she moves the hand that rested softly on his cheek to the small of his back, rubbing soft circles into the fabric of his stage clothes. He hasn't changed out of them yet, or done much of anything, in fact, trapped in the prison of his self-deprecating thoughts. His gaze lifts from his shoes at the contact, which Layla takes as a good sign.

“Now,” Layla clears her throat, pulling him up from the couch with a small hand at his arm. “Go get changed. You’re all sweaty, it’s a wonder you didn’t get heat stroke.”

“It’s a good thing I have you to take care of me,” Jimmy mutters playfully, a shadow of his usual smile creasing his delicate features. “Seriously, Layla, you could give Jonesy a run for his money.”

“Isn’t it just terrible of me to want to make sure you’re alright?” Layla grumbles, the smirk playing on her lips betraying the annoyed expression she sends Jimmy’s way.

Jimmy chuckles, pressing his lips to the side of her head.

“I appreciate it, petal.”

Walking to the changing room, slipping out of the grasp Layla had on his arm, he sends her a grateful smile over his shoulder. Layla watches him, appreciating the view as he walks away.

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taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 (let me know if you want to be added!)