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reidsism · 5 days ago

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➳ THE SOUND OF HEARTBREAK — S.R

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spencer reid x soft!bimbo!reader

in which, for all your love, you just can’t compare to the most beautiful girl in the world

wc: 13.5k (woah)

warnings: post maeve arc (so spoilers for 8×10 - 8×12), heavy angst, but so so much love and fluff before it! im picturing this taking place between s8 and s9 lol. also some of the bau aren’t like. super nice in this one soz :/

a/n: don’t stress abt the ending too much bc im already planning a part two (tbh a whole saga around these two icl). also yeah if u can’t tell, i don’t really like maeve im so sorry. i don’t think i do her any injustice here but this is like. me fixing stuff. sorta. kinda. not really. mostly just painfully. :,) also omg reblogs?! best part of my day fr

“Just as one day we will be separated by my death or yours. I know this must seem like a heaping up of obscurities to you. I can't say it in a more orderly and comprehensible way. I love you wildly, insanely, infinitely.” -Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago.

The living room is quiet.

Spencer’s apartment is always quiet, peaceful, warm. How could it not be, surrounded by books you’d never heard of, shelves that reach the ceiling and lined edge-to-edge with copies of novels that are older than you, in languages you can’t begin to comprehend?

The chess table is still set up, mid-game, from where Spencer had been teaching you how to play the other day. He’d gotten a call from his boss that he had to come in, and Spencer had stared at the board for no more than a moment before saying you could continue once he was back, then he pressed a kiss to the space between your eyebrows—your glabella, as he had once mentioned—before rushing out the door.

It still feels strange, being in his apartment without him here. But he had called you from the jet on his way back, and asked if you’d be home when he got back. He sounded so sleepy, so sweet, you couldn’t help the murmur of assent from spilling from your lips.

He’d only given you a key a week ago, and you were beyond shocked when he had pressed it into your hand, the metal digging into your palm. This, between you, was still so new, so young. But he’d assured you that he trusted you, that he always wanted you around, that you having a key to his home wasn’t a matter of if, only when, and he’d prefer not to waste unnecessary time.

It’s late when the door opens.

Spencer is quiet when he enters, expecting to see you either curled up on his couch or lying asleep in his bed, but instead, you’re standing at one of his bookshelves, your hand outstretched to reach at the higher shelves.

He’s a bit surprised. The top three shelves on that unit are all foreign novels, ones he’s collected from his youth. Latin, German, Russian, Korean, and even a couple of thick Spanish texts that he used mostly to continue learning the language.

You’re silent, not even turning your head to acknowledge his presence, and Spencer wonders if you’ve even heard the door at all.

“Angel?” he prompts, causing your head to whip to the left so quickly he’s momentarily concerned you’ve given yourself whiplash. You tear yourself away from the shelf immediately, like the surface itself has burned you, and Spencer pauses. “You okay? You didn’t even hear me come in.”

You just nod, jerkily, tucking your lower lip between your teeth. “I was just looking,” you tilt your head to the shelf and shrug, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your hands and crossing your arms over your chest. “Sorry.”

Spencer shakes his head, hanging up his messenger bag and coat on the hook by the door. “You don’t need to apologize,” he says, coming closer to you. “Are you curious about them? You can borrow a few, if you want.” He sits on the couch carefully, like he knows there’s something you’re not saying.

You shake your head with a sigh, glancing back over at his stacks of novels. “That’s alright, Spence.” He pats the cushion next to him and you seat yourself slowly onto the cool leather, crossing your legs under yourself. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’d get it anyway.”

Spencer furrows his brows. “I’m sure you would, actually. There’s no reason why you couldn’t, unless it was a language you don’t understand. But even then,” he tilts his head, scooching ever so slightly closer to you. “I can still read them to you.”

You sigh softly. “I know, honey. You know I love it when you read to me,” the corner of your lips twitch up, and it makes a slow grin pull at Spencer’s cheeks. “How was the case, anyway?”

Spencer shrugs. “Fine, as usual. It doesn’t matter anymore, anyway.” He rests his arm over the back of the couch, a silent beckon for you to curl into him like usual. “I’m home now. With you,” he presses the softest of kisses to your hairline. “Are you tired?”

You shake your head, “Not really. I’m sure you are, though. Want me to start the kettle?” Spencer can’t help the nod—he is tired. Exhausted, even. You just smile at him before standing and padding to the kitchen and turning on the stove, setting the metal kettle on the burner.

He hears the cabinets open and the sound of ceramic being placed on granite. You’re quietly humming to yourself, and Spencer closes his eyes. It’s nice, so domestic in a way he hadn’t expected. You peek your head around the corner for a moment. “Lavender or peppermint?”

He smiles, all warm and soft. “Lavender, please.”

You nod once, your head hiding behind the wall again before you peek back out. “Maybe take a shower, honey. It’ll help you relax, y’know,” you grin, teasing at him. “The tea’ll be done when you are.”

Spencer’s eyes crinkle as he chuckles, watching you turn back to the kitchen. He stands with a sigh before heading into his bedroom to grab pyjamas and a towel, then into the bathroom where he leaves the door open, just a crack.

You take the kettle off the burner before it has a chance to whistle, not wanting to disturb this quiet, peaceful comfort that has settled into the cozy warmth of your boyfriend’s apartment. You make his tea exactly how he likes it; black, with no less than four sugars.

You hear the water from the shower shut off just as you’re bringing the mugs to the coffee table—on coasters, cute little pastel ceramic ones shaped like fruit slices. You’d bought them at a flea market downtown years ago, and when you saw that he didn’t have any, despite all the coffee and tea he drinks, you didn’t hesitate to bring them over.

They might look slightly out of place in this warm, cozy place, but, well… Maybe you have that in common.

The bedroom door creaks open before you have the chance to spiral too far. Spencer emerges in a loose-fitting MIT tee and sweatpants. He meanders slowly to the couch before flopping down and grabbing his mug—his usual one, with “think like a proton, they’re always positive!” faded on the side. It’s starting to chip, but he got it for free at a physics convention in Anaheim back when he attended Caltech, and it’s been a memento since.

He smiles as he picks it up off the bright coaster before looking at you. He nods towards the bookshelf you were staring at earlier. “Can you grab that red one for me, angel?” he gestures to a large leather-bound hardcover on the second shelf.

You nod and reach up to grab it. It’s heavier than you’d expected, but you take it to the couch before curling into Spencer’s side.

This has become routine every night you spend here. You make tea, and Spencer reads to you on the couch until you’re either both passed out or too tired to continue, before heading to bed.

You get comfortable, pulling your knees to your chest as he covers you both with the plush throw blanket he keeps on the back of the couch. Spencer clears his throat before starting to read, flipping to some random page in the middle of the book. You don’t question it, just close your eyes and rest your head on his chest.

His voice is low, quiet as he begins to read. You’ve already begun to drift off by the time you start to register the words he’s saying. They’re not from anything he’s ever read to you before.

“I felt a mortal pity for the boy I was, and still more pity for the girl you were. My whole being was astonished and asked: If it’s so painful to love and absorb electricity, how much more painful it is to be a woman, to be the electricity, to inspire love. ‘Here at last I’ve spoken it out. It could make you lose your mind. And the whole of me is in it.’”

You sit up, peering at the pages that Spencer’s eyes are trained on. You can’t hold back the way your breath catches.

“Spence, what is this?” Your brows furrow as you sit up fully, removing yourself from the warmth of his embrace. You wrap the throw blanket around your shoulders tightly.

He glances up from the book. “Doctor Zhivago,” he says simply, as if that explains everything. At your slightly raised brows, he continues. “It’s a Russian romantic novel by poet and composer Boris Pasternak. It was first published in 1957, and—”

“No, I mean, what is that?” You shake your head, pointing at the page.

Spencer’s brow furrows. “The language? This is Cyrillic. It’s the Russian alphabet, and—”

You cut him off again. “I know what Cyrillic is, Spencer.” You can’t hide the bite in your voice. “I meant, what- how- why are you reading it in Russian?”

He shrugs, closing the cover softly. “I have both the original Russian and the English translation, but I prefer this version. The translation makes it clunky, it doesn’t get the tone quite right.”

You just blink at him. “I didn’t know you spoke Russian,” you whisper, curling deeper into the blanket. You hate this, the feeling of inadequacy that comes so frequently from being with a man like Dr. Spencer Reid.

He sets the book down on the coffee table. “I don't, actually. I can read it, though.” He glances sidelong at you. “Is that… a bad thing?”

You shake your head, finally looking at him. “No, of course not, honey. I just,” you sigh. “I don’t know. I feel like I can’t keep up with you sometimes.”

All the time.

Spencer purses his lips. “Well, I don’t need you to. Frankly, I don’t really want you to.”

And that gives you pause. “Really?”

He nods, reaching for you, and you allow him to cradle you in his lap again. “Really. This might come as a bit of a surprise, angel,” he grins, “but I do like you.”

Your face goes warm. You press your cheek into his chest. “I know.” It’s quiet, a murmur, a whisper.

Spencer presses a feather-light kiss to your head. It’s late and quiet and calm, and you’re so warm, cuddled into him and under this plush blanket, that it takes no time at all until you’re fast asleep.

The sun wakes you before you’re quite ready, the bright rays shining on your face.

You’re still curled into Spencer’s chest, his legs stretched out along the length of the couch, whereas you know it’ll hurt to stand after having your knees tucked up all night. The blanket is still wrapped around you, the warmth more suffocating than comforting now, but the weight of his arm slung around your waist is a welcome one.

You peer your head up to look at him, to take him in, in this peaceful state of relaxation. You love this part, when you wake before him and he doesn’t turn his face away when you admire him.

His face is smushed into the throw pillow, his hair wild and messy, thrown every which way like a halo around his head. He’s snoring so softly you can barely hear it, but you do, because there’s nothing about this man you can’t notice.

You try to ignore the tug in your chest. It almost hurts. He looks so peaceful and happy and loved, so relaxed in this sleepy state of the early morning. You almost feel guilty for the thoughts that run wild in your head. How is this real? How is he real? How the hell do you fit into this world—his world—full of chess and tea and comfort and Russian poetry and genius minds?

But then he stirs, and his arm instinctively tightens its hold on your waist, his large hand splaying out over your back. He stretches slightly and, before he even opens his eyes, there’s a smile on his lips.

“Morning, angel.”

Your heart stutters wildly in your chest. You almost feel like bursting into tears right there, collapsing into his chest and letting him comfort you in that way you know he will. But you swallow it back. Just smile at the dopey look on his face, his eyes still shut.

You press the softest of kisses to his cheek, and maybe it’s your mind, but you swear he looks confused for a moment, his brows pulling together as he inhales, his nose at your neck.

It’s your mind. It has to be; your feelings of inadequacy are making you paranoid. “How’d you sleep, baby?” you murmur, your lips brushing his cheek before you pull away.

Then he opens his eyes, his honey-brown irises taking you in so sweetly, scanning over your face as a soft smile overtakes his lips. “Best sleep I’ve gotten in a long while,” he grins, pressing a peck at your lips. “Do you want any coffee?”

You nod, allowing him to crawl out from under you and stand from the couch. He pads into the kitchen, leaving you with your mugs from last night and the red leather hardcover of Doctor Zhivago. You soften immediately. Spencer was reading you poetry. He’d never done that before, read anything romantic. Usually, he read something you were at least familiar with, the classics, stuff you somewhat remember reading in high school. But this warms your heart so much you swear it’ll melt right there in your chest, drip down your ribs like sticky-sweet honey.

You stand, stretching out your legs, and pick up the mugs before bringing them to the kitchen. Spencer’s standing at the counter, his back to you, his hands bracing the edge of the counter. You set the mugs down in the sink and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your cheek on his back. “You okay, honey?”

Spencer nods, placing his hands over yours where they lay on his front. “I’m fine, angel. You can leave the mugs, I’ll wash them. Did you want to shower?”

You hum, pulling away from the hug but maintaining your hold on his hand. “Sure. Did you wanna join me?” you grin, “y’know, save water, and all that?”

Spencer’s neck flushes red, and he swallows harshly. “Not right now, sweetheart. But go ahead, take your time.” He gives your palm a squeeze when you pout. “Your coffee will be done by the time you’re back, and I don’t have to go in to work. Not unless I get a call.” He smiles when your face brightens. “So we’ll have the day, okay?”

You nod, a grin wide across your lips before you’re bouncing off to his bedroom. He hears the shower turn on a moment later, and he sighs heavily as he turns on the sink to wash the mugs.

Spencer can’t stop the quirk of his lips as he stares at your mug for a moment—a cute, bright pink one, tapered at the top like an upside-down strawberry. He takes extra care as he washes it, making sure to get soapy water around all of the molded leaves and seeds.

He exhales as he sets it aside. Runs a damp hand down his face. He needs to collect himself, but god, it’s so hard when he swears she’s hovering over his shoulder.

Spencer’s reading silently on the couch, sipping at the last bit of coffee in his mug. You’re on the other end, scrolling absently on your phone as you set your strawberry mug onto an orange slice coaster. You glance over at him, and you soften. “Spence?”

He hums, looking up at you. You’re lost looking into his eyes. He’s wearing glasses today, his thick browline ones that frame his face just right, and you wonder why he wears contacts so often. Why he doesn’t let himself look like this more frequently. He looks stunning in spectacles. “Angel?”

You blink at his prompting. “I was just wondering,” you shrug, glancing over your shoulder at the chess table behind you. “Did you want to continue?”

Spencer lets a smile slowly overtake his cheeks. He nods, setting down his mug onto a pink grapefruit slice coaster. “If you want, sure.” At your assent, he stands, holding out a hand.

Your cheeks flush with warmth as he helps you stand from the couch. You follow him to the table before seating yourself in the same seat as a week ago, staring at the pieces in concentration.

He smiles. “Do you remember where we left off? You nod, and he moves his rook up two places.

Your hand hovers over your knight, then your queen, almost shaking with uncertainty. Spencer watches you, his eyes soft but calculating, patiently waiting for your next move. You rest your fingers over a pawn and move it up one space with resignation.

“You know, angel,” Spencer says softly, all gentle comfort. “It’s not about making the perfect move. It’s about thinking a few steps ahead, but also,” he moves his rook up and takes the pawn you’d just moved, setting it to the side. “Trusting your instincts. You’ve got this,” he smiles so warmly at you, so reassuring. You still feel the slightest twinge of frustration and embarrassment.

Chess doesn’t come naturally to you, but you’re determined to figure it out. For him.

You bite your lip, glancing over the board. You’re sure his comment about trusting your instincts has something to do with the way you’d hesitated, but you’re still so confused about what to do. You glance up at Spencer again, his eyes fixed on the board, his hands gently tapping at the edge of the table.

“What should I do with my queen?” you ask, a little hesitant. “I feel like she’s… I don’t know. Not doing much.” God, how do you stop feeling so stupid about this?

Spencer just smiles, that warm, gentle expression that makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room. “That’s okay, sweetheart. Remember, your queen can move in any direction. Horizontal, vertical, or diagonal, but only as long as nothing is blocking her path. She’s powerful. You have to decide how to use her.”

You nod slowly, trying to picture it in your head. “So… I can go anywhere? Like, here?” you ask, pointing to a spot near his king.

“Exactly,” he says, his voice steady, his gaze never leaving the board. “But you’ll want to think about what happens after you move her. Like, does it leave you open to being attacked? Does it bring you closer to checkmate?”

You inhale shakily, trying to digest it all as you nod, but it’s a lot to process. You take a deep breath. You can do this. You look down at the board, then back at him, his gaze still so patient. “What if I mess up?” you ask softly, unable to hide the shyness in your voice, your tone full of the nervous doubt you try to push down.

Spencer chuckles gently. “You won’t mess up, angel. Even if you do, it’s just part of learning. I’m not going anywhere,” he smiles. “You’re doing great.”

His words warm you more than the mug of coffee you’d just finished, and you feel that familiar flutter in your chest. You allow yourself a small, shy grin before focusing on the board again. You move your queen exactly as he described, cautiously placing her diagonally across the board.

Spencer’s eyes light up a little, and his smile widens. “See? That’s the right move. You’re getting it. You’re really good at this,” and oh, how your chest positively aches at the pride in his expression.

Your heart skips a beat at his compliment, like it always does, and you let out a soft giggle. “I’m not that good, Spence,” you reply, trying to play it off.

He shakes his head, and you can see the admiration in his eyes. “You’re more natural at this than you think, trust me. Just keep practicing.” You sit back, watching him move a piece, and then he looks up at you, tilting his head. “It’s all about finding balance—taking risks, but also knowing when to protect what matters. Just like life.”

You blink at him, a little stunned by the way his words feel. Just like life? Maybe that’s what this whole chess thing is about—finding a way to balance your moves, even when things feel a little uncertain. Even when you’re just learning.

And then Spencer laughs softly, snapping you out of your thoughts. “You look so lost in thought, angel. Am I being too deep or introspective?” He gently pushes his glasses up his nose from where they’ve begun to slip down the slope of it.

You shake your head quickly, your heart racing as his eyes meet yours. “No, no! Not at all! I’m just thinking about how much you know.” You move your knight in an L-shape, like he taught you, and if the twinkle in his eye is any indication, you’ve made a good move. “Like, it’s crazy. You make it all sound so easy.”

Spencer just shrugs modestly, then picks up his rook and moves it up. “It’s just about seeing the whole board. Everyone has their own way of learning. Yours just happens to be different.” His eyes soften as he looks at you, and you feel your heart tug. “And I think that’s what makes you special.”

You bite down on your lip, trying to focus on the game again, but his words are ringing in your ears, making everything feel like it’s a little too perfect. The fact that he’s teaching you, patiently guiding you through something new, something you want to learn for him, feels so intimate.

You try to steady your breath as you make your next move, feeling your fingers brush against his as you capture his bishop. It’s a brief touch, but it makes your heart race. You chance a peek at him, and oh. His smile is so impossibly bright. You clear your throat and continue, tucking his bishop onto the table beside the board.

You’ve got this.

It's mid-afternoon when you pipe up again. “Y’know, the weather’s really nice today, Spence.”

He looks up from his book, honey-brown eyes tracing your nose from where you’re curled under his arm. “Yeah, I saw. It’s supposed to be pretty temperate until next week; then the rain is supposed to hit.” He lifts his arm from your shoulders and tenderly traces his knuckle down your jaw. “Did you want to go out?”

You shrug lamely, going shy and warm under his gentle gaze. “I don’t know, I guess, yeah. It’s really warm out.” Your eyes lock onto his. “I think we could go to the park or something?”

Spencer smiles, his hand gently gripping your chin as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. “That sounds great, sweetheart.” He stands, and pulls you up with him. He crouches to help you slip on your running shoes and ties the laces. You can’t tear your eyes from his lithe, slender fingers working the laces and, oh. Your heart beats wildly in your chest.

He stands and slings his messenger bag over his shoulder before grabbing his keys with one hand and yours with the other.

His fingers intertwine with yours, and you flush with warmth. He smiles at you as he leads you out of his apartment, locking the door with one hand before you head downstairs.

It’s warm and breezy, the air a perfect 75° outside, the wind just soft enough to sweep at your hair without messing it up. Spencer’s hand is still tangled with yours, and you can’t keep the smile off your face as he goes on some tangent about the differences between mallards and pintail ducks, because you’d just passed a pond and wondered why they looked so different.

You wish you were focusing, but god, you’re lost. So incredibly lost. Staring at his side profile, his brows raising and furrowing, his nose scrunching in that perfect way that makes you just want to bite it. He’s so animated, so enthusiastic about this, it’s a bit staggering.

You don't know when it happened, but now, looking up at him in this dreamy way, like he’s hardly real, like you’ve invented him to cover up the hurt from the meanness of those in your past, you’re sure of it.

You’re in love.

Somewhere between the way he reads to you and teaches you chess with all the patience in the world, between the way he remembers how you always take your coffee and kisses you first thing in the morning, between his warm linen sheets and the dusty scent of his books, you’ve fallen totally, completely in love.

And you don’t know why that invokes so much fear within you. Isn’t it a good thing, to fall in love with your boyfriend? To love him so wholly, so deeply, you aspire to learn the things he loves? To yearn for sameness, to relate to him, to keep up with his statistical rants about anything from the decline of leather-bound novels to the likelihood of walking past a serial killer without ever knowing it?

And then he looks down at you, notices the wistful, faraway look in your eyes as you just stare at him, and all he can do is laugh. He pulls you ever closer, pushes your hair back, and kisses your temple, and you positively melt. He’s so gentle with you, it almost hurts.

Then he’s tugging at your hand, and you look away from him for the first time since you arrived at the park. There’s a couple of tents set up along the path further ahead, and even though you groan through a laugh, Spencer looks so giddy, so excited, you can’t even think about ruining that. So you go along with him, his hand gently tugging at yours, before he stops at one tent towards the end.

Jewellry.

Spencer takes a while looking down at the display, before he picks up a simple gold necklace, a modest, tiny pink gemstone hanging off the chain. Spencer doesn’t hesitate before asking how much and pulling a twenty from his wallet.

You can’t tear your eyes from him. You feel like you haven’t so much as blinked in the last three minutes.

Spencer turns to you, the necklace hanging from his hand like it’s nothing more than a silly little trinket, and maybe it is. It’s probably some cheap, knockoff thing that’ll tarnish in a week, something that he paid far too much for, and you’re sure he knows that.

But he’s standing in front of you, holding it out with the sweetest, gentlest, most open expression you’ve ever seen on him.

And for that? The necklace might as well be twenty-four-carat gold and diamond-encrusted.

You blink at him, your brows furrowing upwards and eyes wide like a doe. “Do you want me to wear it?” you ask, sheepish and small and looking up at him like you’d give him the very earth itself if you could.

Spencer just smiles, all soft and warm and good. “I got it for you.” He shrugs, like this is nothing. Like it's casual and not like he’s holding your heart in his fist, like you trust him enough to not throttle it. “You can do whatever you want with it, angel.”

And, oh.

This is love. You’re certain of it. You’re so lost in the warmth of his eyes, the love pounding against your chest, that you don’t even notice the way he goes quiet, rigid, no longer looking at you, but through you. Like he heard something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Can you put it on me?”

Your soft voice breaks him from his trance, and immediately, the warmth returns to his gaze, his smile comes back so quickly it’s almost as if it never left. He nods, gently turning you around, and you pull your hair away from your neck.

Spencer is slow, reverent, as he drapes the chain around your neck. Careful as he clasps it. He even bends enough to press a soft, almost intangible kiss to your nape before stepping away.

And when you turn around, dropping your hair? Your palms go to his cheeks, clasping him like something precious between your hands, and you kiss him with all the love in the world.

All the love you’ve left unsaid.

You’re barely back inside his apartment when Spencer’s phone buzzes from its place in his bag.

You haven’t stopped toying with your necklace since he put it on you. The charm is almost glued to your fingers now; you’re unable to stop messing with it on your neck. It’s something so simple, but it feels like something more. Like something meaningful.

You’ve already seated yourself on his couch when he comes and plops beside you, a new, brighter grin on his face. “What was that, baby?” you ask softly, watching as he sets his phone face down on the coffee table.

“That was Garcia,” he smiles. “She invited us for drinks at Porter’s tonight.”

You blink. “She invited us, or she invited you?”

Spencer pauses, his hand momentarily ceasing its ministrations on your shoulder. “I mean, she invited me, and the team. But,” he sighs, turning to face you fully. “But, I think it would be nice. Introducing you to them.”

You inhale softly. “You sure? You don’t think it’s, like,” you glance down at your lap. “Too early?”

He shakes his head, his hand gently hooking under your chin to tilt your face up so he can look at you properly. “Angel, you already have a key to my place. I don’t think anything is ‘too early’ anymore.” His head tilts. “If you’re not ready to meet them, you know I wouldn’t force you to, right?” At your nod, he continues. “I would like for you to meet them. Really. They’re really important to me, and so are you. But if you don’t think you’re ready, or if you don’t want to, you don’t have to come. Or, I can stay home.”

Your eyes go wide, doelike and soft. Where on earth did this perfect man come from?

“Las Vegas,” he murmurs. You blink at him. He simply grins. “And I’m not perfect, sweetheart,” he turns bashful, his thumb gentle as it caresses your jaw.

“You’re so good,” you whisper, a whine in your voice. “Why- how are you so good?” You can’t help the tears that fill your waterline now, and Spencer immediately cradles you to his chest.

He shushes you softly. “I’m just normal, angel. I promise,” he chuckles. “I’m not doing anything that you don’t deserve.”

You sob impossibly harder.

“I would love to meet your friends, honey,” you pull away, your mascara smeared down your cheeks. Spencer’s hand comes up to cup your jaw, his thumb lightly brushing away the black smears from your skin like he’s doing something holy. Like he’s done it before, like he’d do it a thousand more times if you asked.

“You sure?” he whispers, careful, like if he speaks too loud this—you—might disappear. Like this is all some vivid dream he’s not quite convinced he deserves to wake up into.

You nod, just once. A little wobbly, but firm. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure, Spence.” Your fingers tug at the chain around your neck, the clasp digging gently into your skin. It stings, just a little. Just enough to feel real. To remind you, he gave it to you. Just today. That it means something. That Spencer is different.

“They’ll love you,” he smiles. He sounds so certain it almost breaks you in half. “I know they will.” You want to believe him. You want to let that live in your chest and take root. Because you’re not sure of much, really, but this? What you feel? It’s real. You know it’s real.

When he presses a kiss to your mascara-stained cheek, you close your eyes. Take it in. Take him in. He pulls away, looking at you warmly, openly, lovingly. “You can wear whatever you want. You don’t have to dress up,” he stands, his hand still warm where it’s clasped in yours. “We’re just going to a bar, and most of them are going straight from work.”

And maybe that’s exactly why you do want to dress up. You love Spencer. You want to make a good impression on his friends, his team, the people who keep him safe when he’s across the country chasing killers. Because you’re not just trying to impress them. You’re trying to seem enough.

In his bedroom, the light hangs low and golden and warm. Your dress hangs off your shoulders, and your hands tremble just slightly as you smooth it down again.

Spencer stands behind you, zipping you up with quiet hands and a look that could positively undo you. His touch settles at your hips, warm and grounding and real.

You study your reflection. “Is this okay, baby?” You catch his eyes in the mirror. Your voice is barely above a whisper, and you hate how small it sounds. How unsure. You can’t hide the way it trembles, the nerves that show through.

Spencer’s hands slide to your arms, trailing a path of fire before they cover your wrists, holding them steady. “Angel,” he whispers, turning you around gently. He looks at you like you’re an oasis in the middle of the driest of deserts. “You look beautiful.” He kisses you softly, tenderly. “I promise, they’re gonna love you. Please stop worrying.” His lips find that space between your eyebrows again, your glabella.

You know it means it. And that’s the worst part.

You’re still not used to someone holding you so closely, so gently, without an ounce of malice, of annoyance, of condescension.

You exhale shakily. You move your hands to the lapels of his blazer. Then to the knot of his tie. Then, finally resting them on his cheeks. Your eyes dart around his face, studying him like you haven’t already memorized the slope of his nose, the pink of his lips, the honey-brown warmth of his eyes.

Just in case. There’s a sinking in your gut you can’t explain. Let me remember you, it says, just in case.

“Thank you, honey.” You kiss him again, and when one of his hands finds the back of your head, you let him.

But then you sigh, pulling away. “If you ruin my hair, Dr. Reid, so help me,” you giggle, pressing a final kiss to his chin.

He chuckles softly. “I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he grins before heading to the living room and pulling his messenger bag over his shoulder.

You grab your purse and glance one last time at your reflection. Not to fix anything, no. Just to see yourself. To pretend you might resemble someone worth loving in a room full of people who love him.

When you step into the living room, Spencer’s already waiting by the door, his hands wringing at the strap of his bag, his smile still impossibly wide.

He links your fingers with his again like it’s second nature. Like this is just what you do. Like you belong with him.

You pretend—for just a moment—that you do.

You know you’re nervous when you hardly remember the metro ride. Conversations blurred around you until they were nothing but mist in the background. Just the steady warmth of Spencer’s hand in yours, his thumb moving in slow, absent circles on your skin, like he was tracing something only he could see. You remember the vibration under your feet and the way he held you when you stumbled as the train stopped.

By the time you step off the train and into the buzz of the city night, the air is cool, crisp. There’s a dewy scent of rain on the horizon.

You don’t even remember the walk to the bar until Porter’s flashes in bright red neon.

Your pulse is back in your throat, and suddenly it all feels too fast. Too real.

The gentle tug on your hand has your head snapping to your left. Spencer’s brows are furrowed, his lips pressed together. “Just take a breath, angel.” His voice is soft, warm. His thumb runs tenderly across your hand again. “It’ll be fine. Like I said, they’ll love you. I promise,” and oh. Oh, he looks so earnest. So sure. You can’t help the nod, the shaky exhale, the way your shoulders straighten out.

You blink. Look over at him again, a small smile quirking at your painted lips. “Okay, baby. I’m ready.”

He grins like sunshine.

Porter’s is busy; not packed, but there are enough patrons to have the bartenders ignoring attempts at conversation.

Spencer grins widely as a group of six, all settled around a circular booth, waves him over. His hand stays locked with yours until you get closer—then, he places it on the small of your back.

Their smiles start to… well. They falter, a bit, when they notice it. His hand, warm and steady on your back. You expected to surprise them, sure, but… You figured that for FBI profilers, they’d be a little better at hiding their shock.

And that means they’re not hiding it. They’re not trying to. If you can see their confusion, their surprise, their—is it discomfort?—then it’s intentional.

And that’s what stings the most. That this sudden tension, the glances, the raised brows, all point to you not fitting in.

They’re not impressed.

Spencer hardly notices it, though. You think it must be because he’s been so excited, but… really, how doesn’t he notice it? It’s like all the oxygen in the room has been sucked out, leaving six pairs of eyes staring at you like you’re other, like you don’t belong.

The blonde with wide eyes smiles at you, but it’s the kind that feels practiced, calculating. You’ve seen it before, more times than you can even remember.

The man next to her—broad, confident, handsome—raises a brow, his glass of whiskey stopping by his lip. He tilts his head when his eyes lower, meeting Spencer’s hand on your back.

Then the third woman, dark hair, a sharp gaze, pursed lips. God, she looks like Spencer when he’s trying to solve a crossword. You hate it, being studied like a puzzle yet to be solved.

And then Spencer says their names, and suddenly, for a moment, it clicks. “This is JJ, Morgan, Blake, Hotch, Rossi, and Garica.” Names you’ve only ever heard in fond little stories, in memories over takeout containers and sleepy mornings in bed.

You take a breath, willing yourself to breathe again. Your eyes land steadily on Garcia—Penelope. She’s already standing to hug you, her arms outstretched and a grin on her face. Spencer had described her as glitter and joy personified, and you can’t disagree. You think you love her already. “Oh my god, you’re real!” you giggle, “I was so sure Spence made you up!”

Penelope laughs with you, her hug warm and inviting, and you can’t help melting into it. She smells nice; like coconut and vanilla and citrus. You squeeze her back before pulling away, and her eyes are crinkled behind her wide pink glasses. “Oh, honey, I’m so real! But who are you, gorgeous? The Good Doctor’s been hiding you away from us!”

You smile shyly up at Spencer, watching as his hand returns to your back. “Uh, guys,” he glances down at you, all softness, before looking back at them. “This is my girlfriend.”

He says your name with reverence, dripping in pure affection, and the mood shifts yet again. Even Garcia freezes from her place next to you.

You wave timidly at them. “Hi,” you smile. “Spencer’s told me loads about you guys. He really loves you all, I can tell.”

And… there’s silence. JJ, Morgan, and Blake blink in unison. Like they’re sizing you up. Surprised in the worst way.

Your fingers reach up to your necklace again, gently pulling at it, tucking the charm between your digits again and again. You smooth your dress, tug it down. Maybe it’s too short? You bite your lip, check your posture, standing up straight. You hold back a sigh. You want to be enough. For them. For him.

JJ smiles a little softer, now. Her eyes more forgiving, just a fraction. “It’s so nice to meet you,” she says. “What do you do?” she asks, scooching over on the bench. Spencer slides in first, then pats the space next to him. You squeeze onto the seat, and try to ignore the warm weight of his hand settling on your knee.

“I work in a flower shop,” you say softly. Blake’s eyes brighten a bit at that, and she unclasps her hands.

“You’re a florist?” she presses, taking a sip of her margarita.

You shrug. “I guess, that’s what my nametag says,” you laugh softly, folding your hands in your lap, fingers fidgeting beneath the table. “But I dunno if I’m like, a real florist. I just do the arrangements.”

Spencer squeezes your thigh gently. You do your best to ignore it.

Blake’s eyes dull again, just slightly. “So, how did you two meet?”

You feel underwater. Your hearing is muffled, you can barely hear the sweet story Spencer’s retelling, of when he walked into your flower shop and you giggled and handed him the store’s card with your number scribbled on the back.

You can’t tear your eyes away from the surface of the table. You try to control your breathing. Keep the tears at bay.

You’re being ridiculous. Absurd. Your insecurities are making you paranoid; you know it. This happens all the time.

But then Spencer’s lightly shaking your knee, his head tilted low enough to catch your gaze. His eyes are worried. You grin at him. “Sorry, what was that, honey?”

He furrows his brows. “I asked what you wanted to drink, angel.”

Your mouth opens, then closes again. “Um,” you bite your lip, looking around the table at everyone’s drinks. Your eyes land on Garcia’s. “Penelope?” you prompt, and her head snaps over to you.

“Yeah?” She looks happy, a little buzzed.

“What’re you drinking?” you ask, nodding at her glass.

She grins widely. “Oh, sweetness,” she stands, holding out a hand for you. “Only the most delicious frozen strawberry daiquiri you’ll ever have! Come on,” she wiggles her fingers at you. “I’m due for a refill anyway, let’s go!”

You blink at her before taking her hand; it’s soft, and she closes it around yours in a way that feels so warm, so comforting. You barely get off the bench before she’s practically dragging you towards the bar.

She orders two frozen strawberry daiquiris, giving the bartender a flirty wink and an “extra pink, thanks, babe!”, before turning to you. “Oh my god, I need to know,” she says, gripping your shoulders like a lifeline. “How long have you and Einstein been together?”

You blink. “Um,” you furrow your brows. “Like, two-ish months, I think?”

Her face blanches, and suddenly, everything feels too fast, too sudden, like it’s the wrong answer, even though it’s not. You swallow your paranoia. “Spencer could probably tell you, like, the actual day, if you ask him. He’s really good with that stuff,” you add on, your voice low, a shy, proud little smile curling at your lips. He really is good with that stuff. Remembering the important things. Even something as simple as your favourite takeout place or the way you take your tea.

She pouts at you, her eyes softening, like she’s trying to make sense of what she’s hearing. It’s almost like she’s worried for you, like she feels sorry for you, but you can’t quite figure out why. “Oh, honey,” she sighs, collecting you into a hug you’re too confused to return. “I’m so sorry.” Her arms are too tight, too warm around you. You just stand there, stiff and unsure why everything feels so off.

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean, sorry?” you frown, your stomach doing a nervous little flip. “Everything’s been great. Spencer’s, like, sunshine in human form,” you try to laugh, but it comes out quiet, timid.

She sighs heavily, like she’s carrying a too-heavy weight on her shoulders, and then looks at you like she’s afraid to ask. “But… you don’t think this is, like, really soon?” She furrows her brows softly. “He doesn’t think so?”

You shake your head, confusion knitting your brows. You pull away from her grasp gently, suddenly feeling exposed in a way you didn’t before. “Penelope, what do you mean? Why would it be too soon?” You cross your arms over your chest, vulnerability eating at you. “Like… like me meeting you guys? ‘Cause I was worried about that, ‘cause it felt like, really early. But Spence said it was okay, ‘cause… like, I already have a key to his place, and I’m there, like, all the time, so—”

Penelope’s gasp is so sharp, so dramatic, that she covers her mouth with both hands in complete shock. “Oh. My. God!” Her eyes are nearly as wide as the frames of her glasses. “No- You- What?! You have a key? To his apartment?”

You nod slowly, and for some reason, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re saying the wrong thing. “Yeah? He gave it to me, like, a week or so ago,” you add, hoping it doesn’t sound as bad as you’re starting to feel it is.

And Penelope? Oh. She shifts like ice in the Arctic. Cold and imposing. You don’t think she even catches it, but she’s looking at you like you’re the villain in a story you didn’t even know existed. “That’s… so soon, sweetness.” Her eyes soften only slightly, and there’s a sympathetic lilt to her voice that feels less inviting and more pitiful. “What about Maeve?”

And you pause. Blink at her a couple of times, unsure if you’re dreaming, the weight of her words pressing on your chest. She stares at you, awaiting an answer. One you don’t have. “I-” you hesitate, like the words are too heavy to lift from your throat. “Who’s Maeve?”

Penelope frowns, her nose going red as though she can’t bear to see you confused. “Oh, honey,” she sighs, pulling you into her arms again, like she’s trying to shield you from the pain of her words. “Maeve was,” she starts, then pauses. “I feel like Reid- Spencer, should be the one to tell you.” She shakes her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. She pulls away from the hug, her hands still lingering on your arms.

You keep a trembling hand on her wrist. “Clearly, he never told me anything. Who’s Maeve?” you ask again, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “Is he-... Is he seeing someone else?”

You don’t want to be the fool again. Not again, not with Spencer. You swore he was different.

Penelope shakes her head, her arms smoothing over your shoulders in a calming motion. It doesn’t work. “No, no. Not at all, honey,” she whispers softly. She’s so… soft with you now. Her hands caress your shoulders like a mother comforting a child, explaining something you can hardly understand. “Maeve was Spencer’s girlfriend. They dated for, like, almost a year,” Penelope adds quietly, like she’s treading carefully around a wound that’s still raw.

That gives you pause. A year? That’s… serious. You feel the weight of its importance, like you’re not measuring up somehow. But Spencer’s not required to tell you about all of his past relationships, right? You know you haven't told him about yours, either.

But then Penelope sighs. “She died four months ago.” And the world goes still. You freeze, like the air’s been sucked right oout of your lungs. “She was kidnapped by her stalker, and she got shot. Right,” she pauses, swallowing hard. Her voice cracks as she continues, like she’s holding back her own pain. “Right in front of Spencer.”

And it’s there. A slow death, you can feel it creeping up on you. Your heart starts to melt against your ribs like thick, sticky honey. It burns you from the inside out, like acid; hot and relentless. “So,” your voice trembles, barely above a whisper. “So… I’m what?” You look into Penelope’s eyes, searing desperately for something to hold on to, but all you see is a deep, profound sadness. “I’m, like, a rebound?”

You wait. Penelope is silent. Her lips part, like there’s something she wants to say, to comfort you, to tell you no, he really loves you, but… She doesn’t. And when you see the minuscule shake of her head, you break.

You shatter like glass, like crystal. Like you’re fragmented in tiny shards scattered across the sticky bar floor, and suddenly, Porter’s is too bright. Too loud. Too much.

The sob escapes you before you can stop it, crawling up your throat and across your tongue like bile. You cover your mouth with your hand, tears freely spilling down your cheeks relentlessly.

Penelope’s lip wobbles as she watches you push past her and run down the back hall, before hearing the slam of the ladies’ room door.

She stands there, still and frozen.

What did she just do…?

Her gaze slowly moves to the table. Nobody has turned around, nobody has noticed a thing. Spencer’s laughing at something JJ says, and the guilt gnaws at Penelope like a plague.

You stumble into the bathroom like a storm, leaning your back against the door like you can hardly hold yourself up on your own, your legs shaky and trembling like a fawn taking her first steps.

The bathroom lights are harsh, fluorescent, and unforgiving. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror and recoil like you’ve seen a ghost. Your mascara is smeared down your cheeks, bleeding down to your jaw, inked like grief itself has manifested onto your skin.

Your lipgloss is mostly gone—just a faint shimmer clinging to the dip of your cupid’s bow, like it’s trying to hold on for you.

You can’t help the way you begin to sway, dizzy as your knees nearly buckle in your heels. You grip the sink like it might hold you upright, like you’re not actively falling apart. But the second you meet your own eyes again, something inside you cracks.

You can’t look at yourself.

You can’t look at her—the girl stupid enough to think she was someone’s forever, not just a placeholder for a ghost.

You stumble into a stall and lock the door behind you, the click too loud in this stifling silence. You sit down hard on the toilet lid, burying your face in your hands as the sobs come back with a vengeance.

You feel like a fool. You’d really thought Spencer was different.

You wish he was here.

You wish he wasn’t.

Penelope shudders a breath, wobbling back to the table with two frozen strawberry daiquiris in hand. Her smile is long gone, her face pale and blotchy and tear-stained. Her eyes are red behind her glasses.

She sets the glasses down on the table like she doesn’t know what else to do with her hands.

JJ’s brows knit together. “Garcia?” She leans forward from her seat. “Are you okay?”

But Spencer’s looking over his shoulder, eyes darting around for you. He’s already standing when he notes your absence, like a string inside him has been pulled too tight, too restrictive, too wrong. “Garcia?” he asks, his voice shaky and low. “Where is she? What happened?”

Penelope’s lip wobbles. She wrings her fingers together, avoiding his eyes. “I didn’t mean to,” she whispers. “I swear, I didn’t mean to—I just, I thought she knew, I thought you told her, and I—Spencer, I’m so sorry—”

Spencer’s heart drops to his gut. His mouth goes dry. “Told her what?” Penelope doesn’t answer. He takes a step closer, his throat going tight, his voice sharper now. “Penelope, what did you say?”

Her silence says everything. Her guilt fills the blanks. She shakes her head weakly at him, her hands coming up, her mouth opening and closing like she doesn’t know what to say. She sniffles.

Spencer’s eyes go wide. “Penelope,” he breathes out, horrified. His irises dart around her face. “What did you say to her?”

Penelope’s mouth opens, closes, opens again. No words come out. Her face crumbles as she looks at the man in front of her. Her own words play back in her head, your reaction playing like a film sheet behind her eyes. She collapses next to Morgan on the bench, tucking herself into the booth. “Bathroom,” she mutters softly, like a confession. Like it hurts.

Her glasses come off in one swift, clumsy motion as she covers her face with both hands. She’s wiping her tears, covering her guilt, trying to hide from the shame of what she’s done.

Spencer’s gone before anyone can even fully comprehend what’s just happened.

He doesn’t walk, he runs, tearing through the bar like it’s life or death, like he might already be too late. His heart’s in his throat, hammering loud against his ribs, and he doesn’t care who sees, doesn’t care how crazy he must look.

He just needs to find you. Needs to explain, to defend, to apologize.

Maeve’s ghost hovers over his shoulder like a curse.

There’s an incessant banging at the door to the bathroom.

You think it must be him—who else would knock on the door to a public restroom?

You do all you can to ignore it; you cover your ears, tucking your face as far into your lap as you can. Try to block it out. Block him out.

But then the door opens, and frazzled footsteps rush into the bathroom until they stop in front of the locked door of your stall. You can see his brown oxfords standing in front of the door. “Angel,” he whispers, slightly out of breath. “Please open the door… please?”

You inhale shakily, holding your hands tighter over your ears. You don’t want to hear him, his excuses, his lies.

“Go away,” you murmur, tears coating your voice, your throat clenching tight. “I don’t want to see you.”

Spencer sighs, crouching in front of the door. “Sweetheart, let me in, please. I don’t know what Garcia told you,” he knows it’s a lie. “But you have to believe me. I want you. Only you. I swear it.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to hear more lies, Spencer.” You swallow a sob. “I know about Maeve.”

Spencer’s heart stops in his chest. “It- It’s not what you think,” he tries, his voice thick with tears he feebly attempts to hold back. But then you sniffle harshly, from under the door he sees you stand, planting your heels on the tile. He stays crouching, swiping at his red-rimmed eyes.

You open the door just a crack, eyes catching sight of his lowered form. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice is quiet, pained, tight. Spencer raises his head, meets your eyes. You look ruined. Makeup smeared, eyes red and puffy, lips bitten red and swollen.

He hates that he’s made you look like this. He hates that he still thinks you look gorgeous. Like a tragedy, beautiful and broken and raw.

“I,” he hesitates, eyes never leaving yours. He swallows. “I’m sorry,” he sighs simply.

Your face crumples again, and Spencer’s brows knit tight. His eyes stay locked on the way you tuck your lip between your teeth to hold in a sob, like he’s never seen anything more beautiful than the way you fall apart. “You should’ve told me,” you whimper, sniffling. “It’s not fair, Spence.”

He flinches at the crack in your voice. He bows his head. “I know,” he murmurs. “I know I should’ve, I’m so sorry, angel.” He can’t help the way he leans forward, just enough to rest his forehead against the softness of your tummy.

Your hand cards through his hair like you don’t hate him, like you never could, and it breaks you even more. This was a betrayal. You can’t forget that, even if the softness of his curls feels like home between your fingers. “Was I just a rebound for you?”

Your question is broken, tearful, and your chest stutters with a breath. Spencer’s head lifts slowly from your middle. He swallows. “No,” he breathes out, the word like acid on his tongue. His eyes are slow to meet your gaze. “No, angel. Never.”

Your eyes close, a shaky exhale exiting your nose as you purse your lips. “Then why didn’t you tell me?” You remove your hand from his hair, crossing your arms over your chest.

You’re closing off. Spencer stands from his crouch, his left knee clicking as it extends. He wrings his hands to prevent himself from reaching out for you. “I should’ve.”

You just shake your head, lifting your chin to eye him steadily. “I asked why, Spencer. Why didn’t you tell me about her if I wasn’t a rebound, a replacement?”

He swallows, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “I don’t know. I think I was still…” he shrugs meekly. “Hurting, I guess.”

Your arms fall to your sides. “I could’ve helped you.”

Spencer lowers his head, shaking it roughly. “No, you couldn’t.” His eyes squeeze shut. He swears there’s a cold spot on the centre of his back, like someone’s staring into him, through him. He tries desperately to ignore her presence. “I never really dealt with it, I just wanted to move on. And,” he raises his head again, his eyes pained as he looks at you. “I did. I started to. With you.”

He reaches out his arm, his shaky hand settling softly on your elbow. You sigh, setting your gaze to the floor, but you don’t pull away from him. Spencer thinks it’s a small win. He tests the waters by taking a small step closer, invading your space, and his heart thrums in his chest when you let him.

You can’t hold it back. You want to hate him. You want to hurt him, like he’s hurt you. You thought you’d finally found it, your forever, the man who would treat you like you’re something worthy of love, of respect, of kindness. Who doesn’t criticize your curiosity, but who lets it thrive, who answers your questions softly, with reverence in his voice, with love in the way he holds you.

You thought he was different. You really did. But you think it’s fitting, really. To still love him, even now, even after he’s shattered your heart in your chest, even after he’s killed you from the inside out.

You collapse into his chest, and Spencer doesn’t hesitate before wrapping his arms around you, holding you tightly, like he’s holding your very form together. Like if he so much as loosens his grip, you’ll break apart into tiny pieces on this dirty bathroom floor.

His lips go to your hair, his hand cradling the back of your head. He can feel the way the sobs wrack through your body, the way they shake against him, your form trembling as you fist the fabric of his cardigan, needing something to keep you grounded in reality—to keep you out of your head.

“I thought you were different,” you sob, broken and pained and whimpering into his shoulder. Spencer freezes. “I thought you wouldn’t hurt me. Not like them, not like before.”

He opens his mouth, but he can’t find the words. How does he respond to that? To your wailing of grief, of betrayal? Of admitting you’d believed in magic just to find out it was all sleight of hand? How does he acknowledge being the source of your pain, of hurting you so wholly that your knees buckle under the weight of it?

He doesn’t know. So he just holds you impossibly tighter, rocking your trembling form in his arms as he tries to find some way to fix this mess he’s caused.

You’re silent for too long. No longer sobbing, just quiet sniffling as you bury your head in Spencer’s chest, no doubt staining his cardigan with your makeup. He doesn’t care.

You pull back slightly, hands still fisted in the fabric. “I want to go home.” Your voice is quiet, raspy, like your throat itself is protesting you talking to him.

Spencer nods, petting your hair down softly. “Okay,” he whispers back. His gaze catches yours before you lower your eyes to his chest again, your hand instinctively going to wipe at the smudge of mascara. Your brow furrows, and your eyes fill with tears again as your thumb rubs at the stain, just to smear it around. Spencer gently wraps his hand around your wrist, and your eyes snap up to meet his. “It’s okay,” he nods softly. “Please don’t worry about it, angel.”

You sniffle again before pulling away, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I want to go home, Spence,” you murmur again. He nods, holding a hand out for you.

You don't take it, don't even look at it, averting your gaze to the floor again.

Spencer sighs, blinking away tears before he’s opening the door to the bathroom, and following you out.

He doesn’t touch you, even though his hand is hovering over your back, your head down as you stand by the front door. Spencer swallows roughly, grabbing his bag off the bench of the booth, avoiding the eyes of his team, who watch him silently.

Hotch’s eyes stay steady on the black stain on the front of Spencer’s cardigan, Garcia’s still got her hands on her face, and JJ is looking at you; small and feeble and shy, and still shaking with tears as you wait for Spencer. He holds the door open for you, whispers something to you as you both exit, and JJ heaves a sigh, taking a gulp of her drink. She and Blake share a look.

The back of the cab is quiet. Uncomfortable, stifling, suffocating silence. You’re seated on opposite ends of the backseat, Spencer’s eyes on you, your gaze out the window.

When the driver pulls up to Spencer’s apartment block, your brows furrow, your eyes going to Spencer, who’s already climbing out the door and opening yours. “I said home, Spencer,” you frown, ignoring his hand. “I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.”

Spencer flinches. “Please, angel. Just for tonight? So we can talk?”

You heave a sigh, glaring at him as you slap away his hand, stepping out of the yellow car and walking past him and into the building.

Spencer exhales, his hands wringing tightly on the strap of his messenger bag before following you up the stairs. You’ve already unlocked the door with your key and slumped onto his couch, sniffling as you lean down to take off your heels.

He doesn’t bother removing his bag from his shoulder, just closes and locks the door before rounding the couch and sitting on the coffee table, gently taking your foot and tucking it into his lap. His fingers undo the strap around your ankle, his hands slow as they pull off the offending shoe. He does the same for the other foot, then stands, picking up your heels as he heads back to the entrance to place them down beside his beat-up old converse.

Spencer hangs up his messenger bag, toes off his oxfords, and looks over at you.

You’re curled up on the couch, tucked into the corner, arms around your knees. Your gaze is fixed on one of his bookshelves, brows furrowed, lips pressed tightly together. Like you’re trying to understand something, trying to solve a puzzle he can’t see.

Spencer slowly makes his way over, sits cautiously beside you, his eyes following yours to the shelf. He doesn’t know if the book you’re staring at is the one his eyes are drawn to immediately, but he tears his gaze away like it’s burned him.

The Narrative of John Smith sits like a ghost on his shelf, its very presence mocking what Spencer’s tried so hard to build with you.

“I don’t know how to get over this,” you mutter softly.

Spencer looks up at you to find your eyes already on him. You shake your head gently, like the small motion of it is just too much. “I don’t know how to move on, now.”

He swallows, tucking his feet up under his legs. “I know.” His hands wring in his lap. “I don’t either. I just know that I want you.”

You scoff, avert your eyes. “If you did, you would’ve told me about her. Now you’ve just made me feel like an idiot,” you sigh. “Again.”

His lips turn, the corners of his mouth pulled into a pout. “Again?”

You sniffle again, shrugging. “I told you. I thought you were different. I thought,” you sigh, raising your head to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”

Spencer tilts his head. “You say that a lot,” he notes. “‘I don’t know’. Like you’re afraid to say what you’re thinking. Like you’re expecting to be wrong, or dismissed. Or left,” he catches your eyes when your head snaps back to his. “And I hate that. I hate that someone taught you to apologize for existing, for being curious, for not knowing. And I…” he sighs, blinking at you, his expression soft and gentle and guilt-ridden. “I hate that I did that, too. To you.”

You swallow a sob, your eyes going wide.

Spencer scooches a little bit closer to you, just enough that your knees knock against his. “I should’ve told you about…” He tries to say her name. His tongue freezes, paralyzed.

“About Maeve,” you whisper. Spencer tries to hide his flinch, like hearing you say her name is wrong. Like the mixing of these two aspects of his life shouldn’t be happening.

He nods jerkily. “About Maeve,” he tries to ignore the way his voice catches on the word. “I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

You nod, tucking your lip between your teeth. “I know you are,” you glance sidelong at him. “I know.”

Spencer exhales shakily. “And I’m sorry Garcia told you.”

“I’m not.” Your voice is shockingly steady as you say it. You shrug when he looks at you. “If she didn’t, I don’t know how long it would’ve been before you did. Honestly, Spencer,” you turn to face him. “Would you have ever even told me?”

He wants to nod, to tell you he would’ve, but he swears he can see her brown hair in the corner of the room, stalking, watching, waiting. His mouth opens, but no words come out.

You wait. And then sigh heavily. “You’re not okay,” you murmur. “I can’t help you, you were right.”

And then you stand from the couch, head into his bedroom, and close the door.

Spencer hears rummaging, the sound of his drawers being opened and closed, then his shower starts, and he buries his face in his hands. Rubs his palms aggressively over his cheeks, pushing his hair away from his forehead.

He stands, peeling the cardigan off. He holds it out, his eyes locked on the black stain that’s, ironically enough, just over his heart. He exhales softly before putting it into the dirty laundry hamper in his bedroom. The bathroom door is closed, the sound of the shower muffled behind it.

He sighs. Drags his feet into the kitchen to start the kettle. His hands move on autopilot: setting the kettle onto the stove, the soft clanging of your mug and his being pulled out of the cupboard, just like always. He freezes when his fingers close around the handle of your pink strawberry mug. It looks like something Garcia would’ve picked out. Too bright, too bubbly, too you. His heart skips a beat.

You were right. God, you were right. He wouldn’t have said anything; not now, maybe not ever. He would’ve stayed silent, keeping you blissfully unaware. You would’ve never found out about Maeve had Garcia not told you anything. The guilt eats at him, gnawing on his chest like a disease, spreading through his ribs like rot.

His hands tremble as he sets it down on the counter beside his. The ceramic clinks too loudly in the silence. He rocks his head back and forth, like he can shake the memories out.

When he opens his eyes, he swears she’s there. Just there, at the edge of his vision, he catches a glimpse of her sweater. He pours the water from the kettle into your mug. It’s all he can do to stop himself from shouting at a ghost.

She haunts these walls—ones she’s never once stepped into. It drives him mad.

Spencer’s sitting on the couch with his hands in his lap and his head bowed when you re-enter the room.

He looks up as the couch dips beneath your weight. You settle in the opposite corner, as far as you can be while still sharing the same space. Spencer clears his throat, rubs his palms nervously over the tops of his thighs. “I made you tea,” he whispers.

You blink. Your strawberry mug sits neatly on an orange slice coaster. He reaches for his, and you see the grapefruit one under it. Your throat goes tight again.

You don’t want to cry again. You refuse to.

You sigh. “I didn’t really want any tea.” Your lips press together as you curl further into your corner. “But thanks anyway.”

Spencer flinches. It’s barely noticeable, just a twitch. But of course you catch it. There’s nothing about this man you don’t notice.

Or so you thought.

Because now he’s staring at you.

Or, not quite; he’s staring through you.

You swallow hard. How many times has this happened before without you noticing? Without knowing he was haunted? Broken? Grieving someone you never knew existed. Mourning the woman you replaced.

You avert your gaze again. You can’t keep looking at your boyfriend while he stares through you, at the woman he lost. “Spencer,” you say, quiet yet sharp. It snaps him out of his trance.

His eyes dart to the side of your face. His brows pull together, unsure, almost pleading. He swallows roughly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, setting his mug down. “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to,” he chews on his lip, shrugging. “I just… I thought you might want it. Like…” he trails off.

You know what he was going to say, anyway. Like every other night. Like routine. But if he thinks you’re about to cuddle up to him while he reads to you, he’s sorely mistaken.

But then you look at him. Just once. And he looks so broken, you can’t bring yourself to say it.

So you stand, slowly, achingly, like just leaving him there is enough to hurt. “I’m tired,” you mutter softly. Spencer’s eyes track your movement. He untucks a leg, like he’s about to follow you like some lost, desperate puppy. You hold up a hand. “I’d like to be alone for a bit. You brought me here,” you can’t help the narrowing of your eyes. “The least you could do is let me have that.”

Spencer gulps, sinks back into the couch with a jerky nod. “Of course,” he whispers. He doesn’t look away, not even when his bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

He turns back around, squeezing his eyes shut. He scrubs at his cheeks, as if trying to wipe the grief and guilt from his skin itself.

There’s rustling behind the door. Spencer pictures you crawling into his bed. He wonders if you’re cuddling his pillow, like you always do when he leaves for work in the morning.

Then he figures you’ve probably thrown it off the bed. The thought tugs harshly at his chest.

He sighs, pulling the throw blanket off the back of the couch and wraps it around his shoulders. He sits in silence, his mind running too loud, too fast, for even him to keep up.

There’s a chill to his left. He doesn’t open his eyes. Doesn’t want to face the visible manifestation of his guilt, his grief.

Spencer doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there. The tea cools in both mugs; the steam rising and fading, like breathing out a ghost. His apartment is too quiet. Too silent to have you just in the next room. Too quiet for a mind like his. It feels wrong. Suffocating. Smothering. His lungs ache like he’s drowning in it.

It’s been hours. Two cups of lavender tea, three hours lost in casefiles and novels and poetry, and none of it has helped him sleep. It hurts even more when he realizes it’s because you’re not there beside him.

Spencer stands with a quiet groan, dragging himself to his bookshelf. He stares at it, needing something else. Anything to get him to sleep, anything to quiet his thoughts, even if just for a moment.

He doesn’t mean for his eyes to go to it. Doesn’t even realize his hand’s already reaching, already pulling it off the shelf. His mind doesn’t catch up to reality until Spencer’s already sitting on the couch with The Narrative of John Smith open on his lap. Maeve’s handwriting stares back at him from the first page.

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone—we find it with another.”

The tears come before he even realizes he’s crying.

Spencer’s vision comes back slowly, like waking from a dream, walking out of a fog, seeing past the haze. He blinks, looking down at the book in his hands. He sets it down on the coffee table—careful, like it burns to so much as hold it.

He gulps. Two books sit side-by-side. Two mugs, four coasters.

He sighs, lying back on the couch. He listens, but the bedroom stays silent.

You wake early. So early that not even the sun is up, the birds aren’t even singing, and the stars are still twinkling in the darkness. You lie on your back, staring at the ceiling in silence. It’s so quiet here, the only sound is the crickets chirping softly outside the window.

You sit up, heaving your legs over the side of his bed with a heavy sigh. This room… you’ll miss it. It’s warm, comfortable. Smells like old books and clean linen and him.

Spencer.

Just the thought of him has you holding back tears again.

You shake your head, trying to push away your impending grief, and stand slowly. You open the drawer he’s dedicated to you, your hands trembling as you dress yourself. You avoid your reflection as you take the rest of your clothing out of the drawer and shove it into your bag. You grab your toothbrush and your makeup bag.

And you take one mismatched set of socks from his drawer.

You’re slow, quiet, as you creak open the bedroom door, your bag slung over your shoulder. You peek over to the couch. Spencer’s stretched out, long limbs draping over the armrest. His brow is pinched, mouth slightly agape, but he’s asleep.

You exhale a sigh of relief. Your eyes catch sight of the coasters—your coasters. Bright, vibrant, fruit slice circles of ceramic. They still look out of place. Still don’t belong here.

You can’t bring yourself to take them with you. They brighten up this warm, cozy space, this place that they just don’t fit in. You’ve related to them since you brought them over.

Oh well.

Spencer can decide what to do with them. You try to ignore the stinging in your chest when you imagine him throwing them out.

With a reluctant turn, you silently slip on your shoes, tug on your jacket, and sling your purse over your shoulder beside your bag.

You don’t leave a note. You wouldn’t know what to say.

You exhale as you crack the front door open quietly, allowing yourself just one last glance around the apartment.

You’ll miss it.

You close the door gently behind you, careful not to let it click. Your hands shake as you lock it, fingers trembling as you remove the key from your keyring. You slide it under the door. It catches on the floorboard for a second, then disappears into his apartment. Like it never belonged to you in the first place.

Your fingers go to the tiny pink gemstone on your neck. You tug at it gently. Rest your fingertips over the chain in something not unlike reverence, before lowering your hand.

You straighten your shoulders. You don’t look back.

Spencer wakes sluggishly. Like his body’s not quite his, his limbs tired and heavy. When he finally manages to sit up, he blinks the sleep out of his eyes. The door to his bedroom is open; he can see his bed made neatly. Too neatly.

He glances to the kitchen, expecting to see you standing at the counter, humming, pouring coffee into your favourite mug and smiling over at him, like you always do, every morning. But it’s empty.

Spencer’s brow furrows, knitting together tightly. He calls your name, soft, then louder. His voice shakes.

He rises slowly, like lost in a dream, his gaze drifting to the door.

Your shoes are gone, leaving his beat-up old converse and scuffed oxfords alone by the door. Your jacket’s not hung up beside his on the hooks. Your purse is missing from where you always hung it in front of his messenger bag.

Spencer rounds the couch, his hands trembling, panic rearing its ugly head, fear clawing at his chest. “Angel?” he tries again, his voice softer now. “Sweetheart, please… please answer me,” he whimpers, his throat going tight.

His gaze drifts down to the floor, like he’s hoping, just for a moment, that he’s wrong. That his peripheral was lying to him.

It shines, like some cruel joke, where it rests on the hardwood, the first rays of dawn catching it.

The spare key. The one he gave you. The one he thought meant home.

It gleams from the floor, tossed carelessly, just in front of the front door, like you’d locked it and slid it under the threshold when you’d left.

Left.

He doesn’t even know when you left. Doesn’t know if it was hours ago or mere minutes, but the air still feels thick with your absence.

Spencer stumbles, almost collapsing to the floor beside that key. The key to his home. To his heart. The key you’d left behind.

He staggers back to the couch, eyes hollow, locking onto the coffee table. Your coasters. And your mug. Just… sitting there.

You’d left them.

He swallows his sobs, choking on the grief that’s clawing its way up his throat. They look so bright. Too bright. Out of place here, in the dim silence of his apartment. You were, too. You brought a brightness to this warm, cozy place. One he didn’t know he needed until you’d taken it away. Like the sun setting, sinking slowly beneath the horizon, leaving nothing but a cold darkness in its wake. An emptiness he can’t escape.

Spencer reaches for the book left beside them. Flips it open to page 639 like muscle memory.

The Cyrillic stares back at him. He can hardly make it out through the tears clouding his vision. His voice cracks as he forces the quote out—the one he had meant to read to you just last night—his memory carrying him.

“I can't say it in a more orderly and comprehensible way. I love you wildly, insanely, infinitely.”

He breaks down into a lump of broken sobs on his couch, clutching the red leather-bound novel to his chest like it’s the only thing holding him together.

This is it. Doctor Zhivago, bright fruit slice coasters, and a strawberry mug. It’s all he has left of you, when he never thought he’d have to face the reality of life without you again.

Your absence chokes him like a vice.

The air turns frigid; Spencer feels like he’s wrapped in a sudden chill, like the warmth that was in his chest is being stolen from his soul itself.

He won’t open his eyes—refuses to. He won’t face this ghost that haunts him, keeps him broken, that pushed you away. He can’t look at her brown hair and warm sweater and blood on her cheek.

He just hugs the novel closer to his chest and mourns once more, wailing his grief into the air like pain personified is being ripped from his chest, leaving him hollow, empty, alone.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #reid ✧˖*°࿐#mine ✧˖*°࿐

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year ago

Text

𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈

part 3 of 🌧️welcome to hell🌧️

summary - as the betrayal continues, you slip through memories that you had unknowingly locked away, finally seeing the lies.

warning - cheating, angst, bad thoughts, swearing, self-hate.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 1 - part 2 - part 4

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You finally make your way to your bedroom, each step dragging with dread. You could feel the end approaching, but you didn’t know how it would go. You walk in and see him already on his side, you sigh softly before crawling into the bed. You felt your skin crawl with him so close, you felt like you needed to bathe in bleach or boiling hot water or even both to stop feeling so dirty. You turned on your side, not being able to fall asleep as your mind is flooded with thoughts and memories.

Ten minutes pass and you feel Johnny move before he slides out of bed and tiptoes to the bedroom door. Your eyes slip shut when he turns his head to check if you are asleep. The moment he walks out, and the door closes gently behind him, a tear slips from your eyes.

The house had been quiet, but the moment your husband entered the guest bedroom next to yours. The silence had been replaced, first with their voices. They were muffled, but you could still hear them through the wall, your heart was pounding in your chest as their voices turned into moans. You felt as though someone had reached into your chest, grabbed your heart and started squeezing and twisting. You imagined the person doing it was a demonic version of Johnny, he stood before you, his hand in your chest, claws digging into your frantic heart. His eyes black, an evil swirled inside of them, and a large sadistic grin appeared, a row of sharp teeth shown.

The truth was… You’d rather deal with a demon than what was happening in the other room.

Your eyes slip closed as tears continue to fall and as you are trying to block out the sounds coming from the guest room. You are pulled into a memory…

Your body collides into something, and your eyes squeeze shut as you are expecting to fall from the force of impact. You feel someone wrap their arms around you and your eyes shoot open, you are met with the prettiest blue eyes you have ever seen. Your mouth opens and closes, cheeks heating up when you realise you’ve been staring for too long at the hot stranger.

He smiles down at you, and you feel like you’re dreaming. “You better watch your step, Baby girl. You nearly fell for me.” His smile shifted into a smirk, you were the prey to the predator, the toy to a manwhore. Your heart fluttered.

Your lashes fluttered as you blinked before you realised you were still in the man’s arms. You gently pull away and look down at your feet, your bottom lip between your teeth as you suddenly feel shy and ridiculous. “I’m so sorry.” Your hands smooth out the dress you are wearing before you pause as a hand comes up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes shoot up and connect with his pretty blue ones.

“Nothing to be sorry about, Baby. You got a name, beautiful?” You nod. He chuckles, “Not gonna share it?”

Your mouth opens and your face heats up again. “Oh! I’m sorry, it’s Y/n.” You begin to chew your bottom lip, staring at him again.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Names Johnny.” He smirks again. “What do you say we get outta here, Baby girl?” And like that, your interest in him crashed and burned.

You shook your head. “It was nice to meet you, Johnny.” You give him a small smile before you walk away. Unknowingly leaving the playboy shocked behind you.

You had chosen a path that you didn’t know had been set out for you that day. Fate had created two, and if you had moved to the left a little bit two seconds before bumping into Johnny. You would’ve bumped into your other path. The path you were meant to take.

That was the first time you had met each other, but it seemed the universe or fate wasn’t done with either of you just yet. The memory switched…

You were sitting in a small cafe, your laptop opened in front of you as a hot coffee sat beside it. Your brows were furrowed as you stared at the screen, not noticing the hot not so stranger walk in. Johnny looks around with a cocky look, trying to find someone he could take home when his eyes landed on you and his expression morphed into one of shock.

You were the one that got away, a challenge. Johnny was rarely turned down, anyone and everyone wanted him. So why didn’t you?

It seemed from the beginning you were always just a challenge for him to pursue and when he got you. He must’ve grown bored because once you’ve caught the thing that interested you, sparked something inside, made you curious to figure out. Was it really fun anymore?

Johnny sauntered over, a smirk on his lips. “Hey, Baby girl.” You look up with wide eyes, not expecting to run into him here. It didn’t seem like his style.

“Johnny…”

“It’s good to see you again, beautiful.” He licked his lips as his eyes danced over your body. You shift, your eyes darting between him and your laptop. He must’ve sensed something was wrong because his back straightened. “I’m sorry. I feel like we’ve come off on the wrong foot.” He did a spin, facing you with a playful smile. “Hi, I’m Johnny. It’s nice to meet you!”

You didn’t mean to, but a giggle slipped out. A giggle? You haven’t done that since you were a teenager and your crush spoke to you. Your lashes flutter as you look into his eyes, a smile making an appearance on your face. Your hand slips into his extended one, shaking it gently. “Hi, I’m Y/n.”

After your second meeting, things seemed to hit off from there. You exchanged numbers and kept in touch, after speaking on the phone for two weeks. Johnny had asked you on a date. Your memory switched to when your relationship turned romantic…

You were extremely nervous, why was Johnny bothering with you? You knew what kind of guy he was. So, was this a play to get into your pants? You stared at yourself in the mirror, your lip had become puffy and red from how much you had been chewing on it. Your eyes scan your outfit, trying to spot a problem. You wore a slightly larger size, dark grey wool jumper with a black skirt.

Johnny was taking you to a carnival and you didn’t want to overdress, but you also didn’t want to look horrible. So you went with a simple option, but you didn’t know if this was a good decision in the first place. Your brows furrowed, he had been nice. But what did he want with you?

You shake your head of your thoughts before grabbing a clip to clip your hair back, only leaving a few strands out to frame your face. You then walk into your bathroom and apply some mascara and gloss, having to take some deep breaths as you feel so anxious. You couldn’t shake these nerves, somewhere deep inside. You felt like this was wrong.

A knock at the door brings you out of it and you walk over with a smile you had practiced so many times in the mirror, wanting, needing to look perfect. You didn’t want everyone else to see the flaws you saw.

Your biggest fear was that eventually he would see you the way you saw yourself.

He had looked hot that night, like he always did. You never knew what he saw in you. You remembered his reaction when you opened the door.

Your body buzzes with nerves as you open the door, your eyes land on Johnny who looks away from something when he hears the door opening. His eyes landed on you, and they sparkled, scanning you from head to toe. “Wow… You look beautiful.” He licked his lips. He calls you beautiful like it’s your name, but why did it feel like a lie? “You ready to go?” You nod, following him out.

As you relive the memory, you realise so many signs you had missed. You should have seen it coming. The signs were flashing brightly in front of your face, but you were too blind to see. Everything flashes before your eyes so quickly, the night of your first date. He was looking at your new neighbour who had just moved in down the hall, she had just come home from work at the diner and caught his eye. You didn’t know that after your date when you wouldn’t let him in, that he would then knock on her door and end up in her bed. He didn’t cheat, but he wasn’t completely honest, and you didn’t know which was worse. You remembered the date, things that were once locked away in your mind to protect your heart were now unlocking before your eyes.

He took you to the carnival that you had been dying to go to, but you never had the time or the people to go with. You were so excited, practically bouncing on your feet as the lights caught your eye. Your smile so wide as you walked past the stalls and rides, your hand holding onto Johnny’s, eyes sparkling with happiness.

You were so busy looking around at the games that you missed the looks your date was giving others. From the beginning it seemed he wasn’t really in this for love. Oh god, why were you so blind? You pull him over to a game where you can win a bear, it wasn’t like the movies where the guy would offer to win the prize for you. Johnny just watched as you did it yourself. How did he trick you for so long?

At some point in the date, you began to feel sad. Was he not that into you? You watched him for a bit before looking down at the food he bought, and the roles switched. Johnny watched you and he wondered why you looked so sad. He was good at seducing women into his bed, he wasn’t the greatest at the whole dating thing.

“Do you want to go on the bumper cars? We can team up.” He didn’t know why he felt so nervous when asking, you were just a girl. What could be so scary about that? Johnny watched as your face lit up and you smiled. He liked when you smiled, it made him feel like he did something right. You nod and get up, not bothering to finish the food as you grab his hand and pull him towards the bumper cars.

The date picked up a bit after that, you still missed the looks Johnny gave any pretty woman that looked his way. But he was more attentive, so you were happier. You didn’t feel so unattractive and boring. Toward the end of the date, he took you on the ferris wheel, kissing you at the top. You thought you had felt sparks as your lips touched. But they were only what you had wanted to feel.

You pull out of the memory, tears streaming down your face as you remember that you never actually felt those sparks when your lips met his. Your memories continue to flash through your mind to distract you from the moans that have gotten louder. Johnny knew you were a deep sleeper, you guess that was why they didn’t even try to be quiet. Your second date he had taken you bowling, and you thought that maybe this could work. Then when your third date came around and he took you to a very fancy restaurant, you had a brief thought that maybe he forgot when you mentioned you preferred the simpler things in life. After your third date, Johnny had become more handsy and because of how blind you were, you thought you loved him and ended up in his bed.

You don’t know why you two got married. You had wanted it, the relationship was still thriving… Well, on your side it was. Johnny would be gone sometimes, but you brushed it off because of how sweet the relationship was sometimes.

Your ears ring as your mind blocks out the moans and you are dragged back into another memory, the one where you got your first apartment together.

You held his hand as you both walked into the tenth apartment that week, nothing had caught your eye yet, nothing seemed to call out to you. But this one felt good, it was in your price range and had the things you were looking for. Johnny seemed semi interested, but he had told you to choose what you liked before going back to his phone.

“Johnny, what do you think?” You wanted him to decide as well. You tugged slightly on his hand as you looked up at him, waiting for him to look up from his phone. He hums, removing his eyes from the screen before he looks around and nods, leaning down to place a kiss on your head.

“It’s perfect, Babe.” You smiled, everything in that moment felt perfect. You stared off, this was the beginning of your life. This would be the place where your relationship would blossom. You and Johnny had gotten the apartment that day.

When the day came to finally move your stuff in and get things sorted. You had gotten into a fight.

“Will you just leave me the fuck alone?! God! I need my fucking space!” Johnny screamed, his glare set on you.

“I just wanted to know where you were!” You screamed back, anger dripped from your words. “You knew we had things planned today! Yet, you decide that going out last night was more important! Why the hell are you only coming home now, Johnny?! It’s nine–thirty in the fucking morning!” You had forgotten this fight or more specifically what it was about. You can’t remember why you kept forgetting the bad?

He throws his hand up, “I stayed at a friend’s house! Is that a fucking problem?!”

“Yes. We had times set for when we had to be there, we still have things we need to do.”

“Why couldn’t you just do it? Do you seriously need me for everything? I came fucking apartment hunting with you when I could’ve been out!” Your anger started to rise when he opened his phone, now paying more attention to it than you. Who was he texting all the time?

But sadness began to overweigh the anger with your next words. “...We were supposed to do this together, WE as a couple. Not I or me, I wanted you to have a say as well…” You sigh, shaking your head before you grab your things and walk past him. “I’ll just do it myself… It’s fine.” You gulp, swallowing the tears.

You remember that was your first fight and on the way out of his place, you bumped into someone.

“I’m so sorry!” You quickly say as you shake your head, lifting your hand to quickly wipe away a stray tear that fell.

“I’m so sorry!” The stranger says at the same time, their hands immediately reaching out to steady you as you stumble.

You look up, your eyes connecting to the most beautiful blue eyes you have ever seen. You didn’t know that he thought the same about your eyes and you both stared at each other for a bit, a whole life together flashed before both of your eyes before a throat cleared.

You turn your head and feel your cheeks heat up, there stood a gorgeous redhead and of course this guy had a girlfriend, he was so dreamy… AND you had a boyfriend too! How could you forget that by just looking into his eyes? You clear your throat, stepping back a bit. The woman smirks, her eyes move between you and the man, as if she figured out something before anyone else. “Sorry for interrupting this love at first sight moment, but we gotta go.”

He nods, even though his cheeks turn a pretty pink and you’re sure if you touched yours, they’d be hot. “I’m sorry again for bumping into you, ma’am. Have a nice day.” He leaves with the prettiest smile you have ever seen, he leaves before you can even learn his name…

Now you remember why you forgot the fight… The moment you looked into the strangers eyes, the whole world disappeared and the only thing you could see, feel, smell was him. It felt like everything had connected, like your souls had finally found each other after searching for so long. It all felt like this was what was meant to be but was suddenly pulled away with each step he took as he left. Leaving your souls to search for one another again.

He was your soulmate. You didn’t know it, yet. But you’ll find him in the next life like you had found him in this one.

You were broken out of your trance at the sound of the door opening behind you. You turn around and see Johnny, he seemed in a rush with his face no longer in his phone and keys gripped tightly in his hand. “Thank god! I thought you’d be far by now!” Johnny pulls you into a hug and kisses your head. “I’m sorry, Babe. I should've been here at the time we said.” He pulls back and looks down at you. “Are you ready to go?”

You nod, walking with him but your mind is on someone else, and you feel so god damn guilty. You looked at your boyfriend to try and get the thoughts of someone else out of your head, but to no avail. You didn’t even know the guy’s name. How could he possibly make you feel more than you do with Johnny?

You finally made it to your new apartment, you had called ahead when you realised that you weren’t going to make it at the said time. Thankfully, they had been understanding.

When the two of you entered your new home. It didn’t exactly feel like it just yet, the place was empty except for the boxes filled with your belongings. The furniture you and Johnny had picked out hadn’t arrived, but you guess you could work around that.

As you were in the middle of unpacking some boxes, you noticed Johnny on his phone and frowned, wondering what had him smiling like that. Your question was answered as music filled the room and he placed his phone down before walking over to you with a smile. The empty apartment was now filled with laughter as you both danced around, not caring if the moves were perfect or not. You laugh as you fall into him, and his arms wrap around you. This is why you could push through all the bad, because there was still the good.

Yes, you could see it. Finally, it feels like our life together can start. He leans down, eyes slipping closed as his lips press flush against yours. Still no sparks, but that was okay. Because he was the one you wanted.

Now you remember why you two had married. Because in that moment, the man, Johnny’s disappearances and late nights, the stress of finding a new home and your questions on if he was the one had disappeared. Vanished as he held you in his arms, in your new home as he kissed you. Feeling happier than you had felt for so long.

You lay in bed, with every moan you could feel your heart break over and over again. All the good that once flooded your memories had been replaced with every sound that slipped from that room, no longer filled with love and happiness. You were no longer going to think of your wedding day or any other day that meant something to you, because they were all lies. You had realised too late that your relationship was a joke, Johnny had gotten better with hiding his man whorish ways.

“Fuck, I love you, beautiful.” The words were muffled, but it sounded so loud in your head. Those words seemed to be the final nail in the coffin.

He calls you beautiful like it was your name. It echoed, tore into your heart. Your heart barely tore at the I love you he had announced. That wasn’t the word that hurt the most, no… It was the name he had called you, now uttered against her lips, skin, soul. Etched into her being as though she was the only one, he was seeing. You felt like you could no longer breathe, like you were drowning and there was no way to come up for air. You knew it felt like a lie.

Have you ever felt like you did everything right and it still went all wrong? Like you weren’t living the life you were meant for?

You fell asleep heartbroken and tired. It hurt when you realised you weren’t as important to someone as you thought you were. Sometime late in the night or early morning, you felt Johnny slip into your bed and the feeling made your skin crawl, you felt sick. Your heart clenched in your chest before you finally fell back into a dreamless sleep.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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miguelhugger2099 · 10 months ago

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The Best Thing

Summary: Miguel O'Hara, star Quarter back of the Nueva York Spiders, lives lavishly with all he could want. What he didn't want is a little girl popping up at his doorstep claiming to be his daughter. The Game Plan AU. <<Prev Next>> Football Player!Miguel x Ballet Teacher!Reader, Gabriella is Miguel's daughter, No warnings Art: rusticfurnace on twt and ethiobirds on tumblr!

Miguel sits in front of Gabriella, leaning on his knees with his elbows. Gabriella stares back at him with wide eyes. She tries to give him a weak smile but it drops when Miguel takes a deep sigh, his leg shaking. Then in a hysterical chuckle, he shakes his head. “No, no. No!” Miguel’s gaze hardened at the little girl. “Tempest and I never had a kid.” His jaw clenches. Gabriella stands up and walks over to him, her hand rummaging through the big pink tote bag at her side. She pulls out a white envelope. “She wrote you a note.” She says plainly before walking past him to take a better look around his penthouse. Miguel snatches the envelope with a dry chuckle and tears it open without a care. “A note,” He chuckles again. His deep maroon eyes read the printed letters, his ex-wife's signature at the bottom. “Miggy, I know this is a surprise but Gabriella is your daughter. I need you to watch her for a month as it’s an emergency. I’ll explain when I get back….Tempest.” Miguel reads aloud, his tone softening and he sighs at the end.

Gabriella stares at all the pictures of Miguel plastered over the shelves and walls. She tries copying some expressions, frowning in some and pouting in others. Her attention is snatched back to Miguel when he calls out to her. He waves the envelope in the air. “You expect me to believe Tempest wrote this? That this automatically makes you my kid? Anyone could’ve written this!”

Gabreilla sighs again, reaching into her tote bag. “Here’s my birth certificate.” She hands him a sealed yellow packet and walks away again. “And your name is on it.” Miguel can only chuckle again. “My name? On your–there’s no way.” He slips the paper out of the packet and sees the fine print. For a moment, he prays Gabriella is dyslexic and confused his name with someone else. Gabriella Monroe. Father: Miguel O’Hara His leg shakes anxiously as he takes his cell phone and calls up his most trusted confidant. “Get here. Now.”

– A woman with bobbed brown hair and thick pink sunglasses bursts through his doors. Her white heels clack on the tile floor as he keeps one hand in her fluffy white trench coat and the other holding her phone. Her unamused eyes meet Miguel’s panicked ones as soon as she steps inside. Miguel gulps. “Fix this, Lyla.” He steps away to show Gabriella sitting at his kitchen island, delicately brushing her doll's hair. Lyla gasps and nearly drops her phone, covering her mouth in shock which prompts Gabriella to jump as well. Lyla drags Miguel to the side, her manicured nails digging into his bicep. “It would’ve been nice to know this early on.” She hisses as low as possible so the child in the room doesn’t hear. “I didn’t know!” Miguel hisses back and Lyla resists the urge to roll her eyes. “You didn’t know you had an ex-wife?”

Miguel waves his hand, dismissing her sarcasm. “It was a long time ago–we were young and stupid. We thought we were in love but it-it didn’t last for a year! And we never had a baby.” He emphasizes the last part of his sentence, brows furrowing and voice oozing with conviction. Lyla smiles tightly, not believing him for a moment. With Miguel’s rep, she’s more surprised there haven't been more baby scares. “Okay, Migs.” She chuckles, taking a deep breath, her hands clasping together. “Is there just any possibility–even the tiniest ones– where she could be yours?” She asks. She sees Miguel about to answer. “Really think about it.” Miguel looks up, digging through his brain in a panic. “I-I don’t know! We went through the papers, the divorce was final. She-she came by to pick up some of her things at my place and she-we-we…” Miguel falters, brows relaxing as the memories rush back. His eyes widen slightly–her lips, her voice, the anger and frustration and love that needed to be released for one last time. Miguel chuckles and pats his stomach, looking towards Gabriella and pointing at her. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.” He walks over to the fridge but Lylas accusing tone stops him from opening it. “I’m sorry, when did that ‘she-we-we’ happen?” She follows behind him and watches as Miguel bonks his head on the fridge door before grunting and facing Lyla again. “Like nine or ten years ago.” He whispers. Lyla turns to Gabriella with a smile. “How old are you, sweetheart?” Gabreilla perks up. “Nine.” Both Lyla and Miguel deflate. “Congrats, Migs.” Lyla says monotonically.

“Oh, God–” Miguel groans and rubs his face with frustration as he walks away to pace in the living room. Meanwhile, Lyla tries some damage control. She approaches Gabriella on the other side of the island, leaning her elbows on the marble counter and placing her chin in between her laced fingers. “Hi, sweetpea, let’s talk. So, the letter says your mom isn’t coming back for a month. Did she just decide to leave you here?” She asks, her smile tight. “She’s helping the starving kids–” Gabriella starts but Lyla cuts her off. “I’m not trying to hear that.” She says flatly. “Did she just decide to leave you here?” “I begged her.” Gabriella swings her feet as she sits in the high chair. “I said ‘Well, why don’t I stay with my father?’ and she said ‘Well, baby, he doesn’t know about you ye–” Lyla interrupts her with a groan, her hands waving in the air with a hint of annoyance. “I get it, I get it, whatever. Then who else can you stay with?” She sighs. Miguel claps his hands from the living room, approaching the two with a smug laugh. “I got it! Haha, Tempest has her mom..uh..Keke…Alicia…” Miguel lists off names, trying to remember the name of his ex-mother-in-law. “Amelia!”

Gabriella inches an eyebrow up, a shadow of annoyance. “Cecelia.” She corrects. “Cecelia!” Miguel laughs, shaking little Gabriella’s shoulder. “Same thing.” He mutters under his breath with a smile. “What about her?” Gabriella looks down, her fingers nervously wringing together. “She’s, um…she’s dead.” Lyla scoffs, resting her hands on her hips and stretching her lower back. “That’s convenient.” Both Miguel and Gabriella look up towards her, silently judging. Lyla pouts, flicking her bangs away from her face. “What?” She whines before staring back at Gabriella. “Does your mom have a phone? Email?” Gabriella shakes her head. “They don’t have internet there.” Lyla pokes her cheek with her tongue and crosses her arms. “How did you get here again?” “We flew to Nueva York here together and then she put me in a cab.” Gabriella recites her story for the billionth time. “And the cab just somehow dropped you off at some man’s house?” “Not some man! My father!” The little girl insists. Lyla points at her as if catching her in a lie. “So you say!” Gabriella frowns, her bushy eyebrows furrowing and her nose scrunching up. “Want a paternity test?” Miguel chimes in, oblivious. “That’s a great idea! Let’s do that.” Lyla meets Miguel’s eyes in a panic, shaking her head. She tilts her head to talk a little away from Gabriella. “As long as they don’t have needles, I’m–heh–I’m not good with those.”

Lyla grabs his arm again, dragging him close as she whispers to him. “Not in the middle of negotiating with our Patrick’s Burgers deal. If you take the test there’s a high chance it’ll get out to the press and the public will hate you for ditching your kid–if it turns out to be true–and all of our money will go down the drain.” Lyla sighs, bringing her hands up to rub her temples. “Lyla. Lyla-” Miguel turns to take Gabriella’s seat, spinning her to face Lyla and they both look at the incredibly stressed woman. “We don’t even look alike.” Miguel smiles his pearly whites, Gabriella looking at him for a glance before looking at Lyla again. She matches Miguel’s smile lines, the plump lips, and shiny gleam in her big brown eyes–a missing tooth in her grin. “Oh no,” Lyla draws out with sarcasm. “Not at all.”

The world still spins, with Miguel having practice to go to until it was so rudely interrupted by a 4 foot girl. He walks out of his apartment building, the doorman that had called Miguel about Gabriella in the first place standing outside. Miguel huffs in annoyance, his daughter behind him and now in his care. “Thanks for the heads up, Larry.” Larry barks a laugh, whistling for the other doorman to bring in Miguel’s car. “Told ya she was cute.” He cackles. Miguel’s car pulls up, the driver door being lifted up and Miguel gets in. He opens the passenger door for Gabriella, tsking. He ushers her to hurry inside. “C’mon, let's go.” He snaps. Gabriella looks inside the car and shakes her head. “No backseat.” “So what?” His face contorts, irritated. “If we get in an accident, the airbag will hurt me.” She clings to her tote bag strap tightly to her chest. Miguel bangs his head back. “I don’t have time for this, please.” Still, Gabriella crosses her arms, stubborn and planting her feet in the ground. Miguel settles for putting his football helmet on top of her head and it flops forward, covering her eyes. On the way to practice, Miguel is asked questions by Gabriella. “I’ve got four weeks to make up for eight years, mkay?” She pulls out a binder from her tote bag, flipping open the book to a page of messy handwritten questions. “It’s simple: I ask, you answer.” She lifts the helmet on her head up so she can see what she’s writing.

“So for example, if you asked me my favorite thing to do, I’d answer with ballet. Now, what’s yours?” “Football.” He grunts, honking his horn and shouting at the traffic while she writes in her binder. “And if you could only save one thing in a fire, what would it be?” “My Heisman.” Before Gabriella could write it down, Miguel interrupts her. “No, no, no, wait.” He lifts a finger and smiles. “My limited edition Miguel O’Hara Spider Sneakers.” Gabriella rolls her eyes. For the remainder of the ride, Gabriella continues to ask questions and they feel endless. Miguel gets tired of it, telling her no more but she insists. “Just one more question.” She perks up, shuffling in her seat and lifting the helmet up slightly to look up at him. “What’s the best thing that ever happened to you?” Miguel sighs, kissing his teeth and can’t shake off the feeling he’s had for a hot minute. “Hey, I got a question for you. Why didn’t your mom just bring you here herself?” Gabriella’s smile drops and she looks down in her lap. Her eyes cast towards her tote bag and she smiles again. Her hand digs inside and she pulls out a tupperware box of cookies and presents it to him. “Want a cookie?” She squeaks. Miguel tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “No, I don’t want a cookie and stop avoiding the question.” “But you said you were hungry.” She frowns and lifts the box higher after popping the top open. “And I made them special for you.” “Ugh, fine, fine. Gimme that..” Miguel shoves his hand to grab a cookie, taking a giant bite out of it. “Your mom.” He reminds her, mouth full of cookie. “I told you it was last minute..” She fiddles with a crumb.

“I just can’t believe Tempest would do something like that. Letting her daughter just appear all alone–it doesn’t sound like her.” He mutters out loud to himself. He coughs after taking another bite of Gabriella’s cookie, scratching his tongue with teeth. Does it feel a little swollen? Still, he speaks his mind. “I know what happened.” Gabriella winces, peeking meekly through the front guard of the helmet. “You do?” Miguel coughs. “She screwed up her hair again, didn’t she? Hiding away in embarrassment?” “No.” She grimaces. “All that bleach and dye finally destroyed her curls, didn’t it?” Miguel checks his mouth, feeling strange but he still ends up finishing his cookie. By the time Miguel changed into his uniform, his mouth had gotten worse, his tongue swollen and giving him a lisp. They both enter the field house, Miguel’s tongue still bothering him while Gabriella walks behind him, her head swiveling around to soak in the place. Miguel annoyingly looks behind him, to see her lingering behind. “Let’s go!” He slurs and her little legs hurry to stand beside him. “What do you think, you can just roam around safely or something? Stay close, little lady.” He speaks, his lisp becoming more apparent.

“Are you okay?” Gabriella frowns, tilting her head. “Do I sound okay?” Miguel snaps, bending down to her height. “What’d you put in those cookies?” He jabs a finger to her tiny bag. “Milk, flour, eggs and cinnamon-” “Cinnamon?! Cinna–I’m allergic to cinnamon!” He hisses through his lisp. Gabriella’s face falls, genuine remorse crossing her face but Miguel is too peeved to notice or even care. “Oh, I’m sorry…” “Oh, ‘I’m sorry’? All you gotta say is ‘I’m sorry’? I sound like this and you’re ‘sorry’?” He stands up straighter, glaring down at her and shaking his head before walking away. Gabriella watches his back as he walks away. “I’m allergic to nuts!” She calls out, hoping that information would help him feel better–or at least be a little useful. It seems to fall flat.

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#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 #miguel x you #miguel x y/n

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the-oblivious-writer · 2 years ago

Text

Let the Light In |3|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Three: Nosy Friends and Conflicting Feelings

Summary: You and Tara have been seeing a lot of each other for school purposes. One weekend you're away and Tara has the urge to bother you. This leads to teasing and...confusing thoughts

Warning(s): Swearing, Tara pleading the fifth & mentions of death

Notes: My motivation has been going up and down these past two weeks but I finally finished this chapter so here ya go. Hope it's not shit

Masterlist|Previous part|Next Part

“What exactly are we doing here?” you asked.

Tara was leading you to the roof of her apartment building without saying much—which is strange for her. “I’m bored and we have an exam to prepare for. We’re multitasking,” she finally said while opening a door and walking out on the roof.

“And what’s so great about the roof?”

“I need fresh air. Any more questions, Shitlock?” She raised an eyebrow at you while sending you an unimpressed look.

“Someone’s poutier than usual today,” you said. You took your binder out of your bag as Tara already began on her work.

“Just focus on your dork binder, dork,” she quipped and slouched in her seat, tucking her knees to her chest and raising the height of her notebook.

You rolled your eyes back to your binder. “Sure,” you said in a monotone voice. You were flipping through the various folders when a thought crossed your mind. The thought had you glancing at Tara, a small, downward smile appeared on your face.

“What?”

“Nothin.’” You quickly turned back to look at your notes.

“No. What?” she repeated, sitting up.

You looked at her again, your same smile from before threatening to cross your face. “I was just thinking—” you shut your binder, “—this is the perfect place to chuck water balloons at people.”

Tara looked at the edge before returning her eyes to you. “Damn, I should’ve thought of that first,” she said with a reluctant smile. You could see her dimples. She looked… radiant—

“—Don’t beat yourself up,” you said with a wink, edging her on.

She laughed. “Yeah, whatever. You can get back to your dumb binder now.”

You laid one of your hands over your heart. “My binder is not dumb. It keeps things organized and neat.”

“It also keeps girls away,” she stated.

“Your sister doesn’t seem to mind,” you were quick to counter with.

Tara immediately shoved your shoulder. “Can you not?”

“The heart wants what it wants,” you joked.

“You know what?” She stood up. “I’m going inside. Climb your way down for all I care.“

It wasn’t until she shut the door that her words sunk in.

“Wait—what?”

Did the door just click?

You walked up to the door before trying to open it. You turned and shook the handle, but it was no use.

“She locked me out on the fuckin’ roof.”

—

Tara knocked your apartment door three times. The door opened to reveal Anika.

“Hey, Tara. What’s up?” she greeted her with a smile.

Tara reciprocated Anika’s smile before responding. “Hey—I think I left my headphone charger here the last time I was over. Could I take a look around?”

“Of course, come in.” Anika opened the door wider, giving room for Tara to walk in.

She walked over to the couch before digging her hands between the cushions.

“So, you and Y/N seem to be doing a lot of stuff together,” Anika began to comment in the background.

“Hm?” Tara hummed with raised eyebrows. “Oh, that? I guess so. Everybody else in our class has buddied up for any future stuff, so we got stuck together.”

She felt the edges of her charger but she couldn’t quite grasp it.

“Oh? I thought you two finished your group project last week,” Anika said, walking over to the kitchen but still within earshot of Tara.

“Yeah, well—“ Tara huffed, her finger tips only grazing her charger, “—our professor seems to be a fan of group work, and I only sit through study sessions so I can copy her notes.”

Anika laughed a little. “Interesting.”

Y/N never lets me copy her notes, she’s so stingy, Anika thought to herself.

At last, Tara finally got a hold of her charger. “Finally,” she sighed.

“Where is she anyway?” Tara inquired while putting away her charger.

“Away this weekend, visiting family in Brooklyn,” Anika said as she walked back into the living room with two water bottles. She wordlessly handed one to Tara.

“Oh,” was all the Carpenter replied as she took the water bottle and silently thanked her.

“Did you need something from her?”

Tara shook her head. “No, just curious.”

Anika gave her a subtle look of skepticism. “Alright then. Wanna stay for a bit? I was just gonna put on a movie.”

“Sure, a movie sounds great.” She then sat down on the couch and Anika joined her.

Thirty minutes into the movie and Tara’s train of thought kept returning to a certain station. It was extremely frustrating. Even in your absence you were a nuisance. Clearly she wasn’t used to going this long without annoying you.

But what’s stopping her?

She took out her phone and was quick to press on your contact.

Tara (1:34 pm) u didnt tell me ud be out of twn

Dork (1:36 pm) Oh, sorry, mom. I wasn’t aware I had to tell you my every move

Tara (1:36 pm) apoldgy accepted.

Tara (1:37 pm) enjoyg brklyn?

Dork (1:38 pm) Your horrendous typing aside, how do you know where I am?

Tara (1:38 pm) i have my sorces also 🖕

Dork (1:39 pm) Wow. You’re obsessed with me

Tara (1:39 pm) am not

Dork (1:40 pm) Sure, my little stalker

Tara (1:40 pm) ur so annoying

Tara (1:41 pm) shoulsnt u be w family rn?

Dork (1:41 pm) I’m currently hiding in the bathroom

Of course she is… Tara thought with a smile.

After an hour, Tara was still staring at her phone; she smiled as she typed away, letting a few giggles slip every now and then. Anika would occasionally look over at Tara with a curious look. She may or may not have had a hunch as to who Tara was messaging.

Anika’s own phone rang with a message from her girlfriend. “Hey, Tara—” Tara looked up from her phone for the first time in almost two hours, “—Mindy and the others are gonna come over in a bit for a movie night. You staying?”

“Sounds good,” Tara said before returning her attention to her phone.

Tara could admit to herself, and herself only, that she missed it a little; your back and forths, the petty comments and insults you would throw at each other. You being a dork throughout it all was just a bonus. But she didn’t miss you—oh, no, that would mean she actually cared for you. And she doesn’t, she could never. You were nothing but a nuisance, and if she wanted to use that for her own entertainment that was her own right.

Mindy and Chad arrived about twenty minutes later. Tara didn’t get up from the couch, only sparing a few greetings. Mindy noticed the lack of focus which led her to tilt her head at her girlfriend, raising an eyebrow.

Anika shook her head. “Don’t bother. She’s been like this the entire time.”

Those words were all it took for the teasing to begin.

Mindy sat down on the couch, across from Tara, with Anika in her lap. “So, Tara, who is she?” Mindy smirked.

Tara looked up at her friend with furrowed eyebrows. “What?”

“You heard me. Who’s the girl that’s glued you to your phone?”

Tara nervously chuckled before responding. “That’s ridiculous—you sound ridiculous.”

“Woah, getting pretty defensive there, T. Wait a minute… Is it someone we know?” As Mindy narrowed her eyes at the girl, Tara looked away with an eye roll. “Shit, it is.”

“There’s no girl. There’s no anybody.” Tara was too busy forming a defense to notice Chad peeking from behind her.

“The contact name says ‘Dork,’” Chad revealed.

“Chad!” Tara quickly flipped her phone over.

Anika and Mindy shared a look and a not so subtle smirk. “Anything you would like to share with the class?”

Tara looked between them, a pout forming on her face. “Chad’s a nosy prick and I’m hungry.” She stood up and grabbed her jacket off of the coat rack. “I’m going to the store.”

“Get me something too, lover girl!” Mindy called out.

“You’re not getting shit!” Tara called back before slamming the door shut.

—

“Are you ever going to quit?” Tara said.

You refused to meet her gaze as she stared up at you with her big doe eyes. “No.”

Tara groaned.

It was Friday and Tara was over at your apartment to work on another assignment with you. This, inevitably, meant that you two were doing your typical bickering.

“If you call me short one more time—”

You finally met her gaze. “Why? It’s true.”

“You don’t have to obnoxiously point it out every chance you get.” She rolled her eyes for the hundredth time that afternoon before putting her book down.

“But it’s so fun.” You couldn’t help but smirk at her unamused expression.

“But it’s so fun,” Tara repeated, changing the pitch of her voice to mock you.

You wore your own unamused expression. “I sound nothing like that.”

“You sure about that raspy?”

You scoffed, almost chuckling. “Whatever, I’m getting water.” You stood up and walked over to the kitchen.

“Maybe some tea while you’re at it,” Tara said.

“Maybe I can get you some milk. I heard it helps with growth,” you said as you grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and then one of the juice boxes next to it. You walked back to where you were previously sitting with Tara, placing the juice box in front of her before sitting a couple cushions over.

“What’s this?”

You were confused. “What do you mean?”

“What’s this?” she repeated, gesturing to the juice.

“Juice, clearly.”

How does she know my favorite brand of juice? It’s probably just a coincidence. That’s all. A coincidence.

“Earth to Ms. Carpenter.” You gently poked her shoulder. “Are we doing this or…?”

“You got somewhere else to be?” she asked mockingly.

“Yes; a stupid date I should’ve never agreed to. Now let’s—”

Tara blinked a few times before cutting you off. “You have a date? I find that hard to believe.”

“Did you come here to talk about my dating life or to work on our assignment?”

She reluctantly turned her head back to her book and mumbled, “Whatever.”

After you two finally finished, you closed your book before standing up, stretching and digging. “Alright. I’m gonna change; you can stay here and do whatever,” you said. You then walked to your room to get ready, Tara never looking up at her phone, only humming in response.

Since she would be hanging with Anika and others later, she figured she would stay at your apartment until they arrived. After fifteen minutes of scrolling through social media, the door to your bedroom opened and footsteps followed. That’s when Tara look up and at you, taking in your appearance.

You certainly caught her attention.

“I’m off,” is all you said as you grabbed your keys.

“Y-you don’t look like shit—by the way,” Tara suddenly stammered.

She wasn’t one for giving you compliments, so her words caused you to turn around with bewilderment.

“Thank you?” You still felt caught off guard as left the apartment.

Tara cupped her cheeks the moment you left, silently pleading the heat rushing to her face wasn’t visible.

—

You spared yet another fake laugh at what your date considered to be jokes. The only agreed to this because it made a good distraction and Henry had a friend to set up.

Yet all set you up for was boredom.

Seriously, Henry. An accountant? you bitterly thought as you feigned another smile.

You don’t know how much longer you could bear hearing about financial mumbo jumbo. Your date needed to find better topics before you died of boredom. Henry had to pay for this. You were never going to go against your anti-blind date rule again.

Eventually, the date finally came to an end around ten. In your opinion, it didn’t end soon enough. When you stood in front of you apartment's door, you could already hear laughter on the other side. You silently groaned before entering your key.

You immediately felt eyes on you, but you chose not to reciprocate. You just ignored them and made a beeline to your room. You were too busy raising the volume of your headphones to the highest setting to hear Mindy’s teasing remarks.

She nudged Tara’s side. “No wonder she had you all tongue tied when we got here.”

Tara shoved her elbow away. “I was not tongue tied.”

“You were having a full on gay crisis—“ Chad began but Tara cut him off by chucking a die at him. “Um, ow?”

“I did not have a gay crisis! Especially not over Y/N freaking Y/L/N,” she argued.

Anika smirked, joining in. “I briefly remember you pacing back and forth.

“Was not! I-I was just a little confused about something, but I’m fine now,” Tara managed to get out through the nerves creeping over her. The same heat from hours ago was beginning to rush through her again.

“I think—“ Ethan was cut off by Mindy raising her hand at him.

“You’re deflecting, T,” she said instead.

Tara blew a raspberry. “Nuh uh,” she said with childish conviction. “Roll the fucking dice Ethan.”

Ethan immediately started shaking the dice in his hands before rolling them.

Mindy’s look of skepticism never ceased. “Fine, have it your way, but know I will get to the bottom of this.”

“There’s nothing to figure out.” Tara crossed her arms as Mindy narrowed her eyes at her, although she dropped the topic for the time being.

The entire time they were there, you stayed in your room. You laid down in your bed, blasting music through headphones with your arms crossed. Your shoes had been kicked off and you were currently in your pajamas. You may go deaf by fifty, but loud music was good. It was your white noise, a distraction.

Some may claim your coping mechanisms were unhealthy, but they were your own.

But does it truly count if you aren’t coping at all?—

You suddenly heard knocks at your bedroom door, so you pulled off your headphones.

From the other side, Anika inquired, “Wanna join us for pizza? We’re going out.”

“No, thanks,” you were quick to respond before putting your headphones back on.

Anika returned to the living room and sat back down on her girlfriend’s lap. “She’s a no-go.”

“Mkay. When do you guys wanna leave? I’m starving,” Chad said, rubbing his stomach.

“You’re always starving,” Mindy remarked.”

—

The next day, you were beaten by Tara to class, surprisingly. You slept through your alarm, it was the first time you had gotten a decent night’s rest in weeks.

I’ll take the win, you figured.

Tara gave you a single glance before looking back to the front of the classroom. “You’re later than usual,” she said, still not looking at you.

“Was up late, thinking about your sister,” you said, earning yourself a pinch to the thigh.

“You’re disgusting.”

After hours of passing notes and having unnecessary side arguments with Tara, class finally ended. The moment you left, you felt an arm wrap around your shoulder, the figure began to effortlessly walk with you.

“Sooo, how was your date?” You heard Henry ask.

“Shitty and extremely boring,” said with a tone that matched the unimpressed look you gave him. “He wouldn’t stop talking about financial junk, and then the stupid pilsners came into play—as if that would grease up the evening.”

He gave you an apologetic smile. “Sorry… Oh! If you wanna try again there this—“

You cut him off. “No, no, no. I’m not doing this again,” you said while gesturing with one of your hands.

“You’re never forgiving for this, are you?”

You sighed. “You are never allowed to set me up again. Ever.”

“Yup. That sounds about right.” He dropped his arm from around your shoulder. “I gotta head to class but I’ll see you around.” You bumped fists before he made his way to his class.

Once classes were over, you started your shift at the cafe you worked at. It was a slow day, so you just focused on the wiping down the counters until someone walked in.

“Hey,” you heard a familiar voice say. You looked up from the counter to see one of your regulars wearing a charming smile.

“Hey,” you repeated. “The usual?” you asked as you turned around to the coffee maker behind you.

“You know me too well,” she lightly laughed. “Not many people today, huh?” she said as she looked around.

“Yeah. You caught me on a slow day.” You put a lid on her drink before giving it to her.

She thanked you before taking out her wallet. You opened your mouth to say something but she was quick to cut you off. “I don’t wanna hear it. Let me get this one, I don’t need this coming out of your check.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Fine,” you sighed and smiled. You took the money from her and placed it in the register. “But how else am I supposed to show you you’re my favorite regular?”

She put a few bills in the tip jar. “Don’t worry, honey, I know. See you later.” She waved, winking at you, before leaving.

“See ya, Lottie,” you mustered up just before the door shut behind her. You didn't miss the sly smile on her face, possibly at seeing you scramble to say goodbye.

“What was that?”

Anika’s voice caused you to jump. “Jeez, Anika. A little warning next time?”

“You would’ve noticed us if you weren’t busy flirting with your regular. I didn’t know you had a thing for mil—“

“Wait—what do you mean ‘us’?”

Anika turned, discreetly pointing at a table where Mindy, Tara, Chad and Ethan sat.

“Oh, wonderful. She knows where I work.”

“You expect her to put a hit on you?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” you mumbled.

“You two can be so immature,” she said.

“Are you here for coffee or judgment day?” you sarcastically asked in a dry voice.

“I can multitask,” she said before ordering.

Not long after, Anika returned to her table with drinks and pastries. “Here we are,” she said while giving out everyone’s orders.

Mindy kissed her cheek. “Thanks, babe.”

Anika smiled back at her girlfriend. “Anytime, babe.”

Tara simply sipped her coffee, thinking to herself, before speaking up. “Who was Y/N talking to?” she asked Anika.

“One of her regulars. They’re always flirting, not that even Y/N’s aware of that,” Anima responded.

A smirk played on Mindy’s face. “You jealous, T?”

Tara scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You sound ridiculous.” She immediately hushed down her tone. “And can you lower your voice?” she pleaded while slightly leaning in.

They all subconsciously looked over at you; you were wiping down the counter with your headphones in.

“Ah hah.” Mindy pointed a finger at Tara. “I knew there was something.”

Tara lazily pushed Mindy’s finger to the side. “There’s nothing to know. Jeez, a girl can’t be curious anymore.”

“I don’t know. It does seem pretty—“

“Well nobody asked you, Chad, and come on, all I did was tell her she didn’t look like shit. You’re all reaching.”

“Oh, am I? Remember that dream you told me about, the one where—“

Tara’s eyes widened at Mindy. “Don’t you dare say another word. Besides, that dream meant nothing. It was just a dream.”

Mindy gave her an incredulous look

“If I may—“ Ethan started, but Tara finished for him.

“No. You may not."

“Haven't you two also been doing, like, a bunch of study sessions?” Mindy raised an eyebrow.

“All a ploy to copy her notes.”

“Is flirting a part of the plan?” Anika rhetorically asked, giving Tara the feeling of betrayal.

“Traitor,” Tara mumbled.

“So, you don’t deny flirting?” Chad couldn’t hide his smirk.

“You’re really no help,” Tara said as she got up from her seat. “I’m leaving. I’m done being interrogated.”

“See you, lover girl,” Mindy said to Tara who was flipping them off as she left.

What was Tara thinking? The next time she needs to know what her dream meant, she’s going to Google.

-----------

A/N: Da nile is a river in Egypt

(EDIT) A/N: You have my word that chapter four's rewrite won't take nearly as long

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno

#tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x female reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #scream #scream 6

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estell-allary · 1 year ago

Text

A Devine Destiny

Relationship:romantic

Pairing:Clarisse La Rue x fem!Aphrodite!reader

A/N-hey so this is a part 2 to Aphrodite’s bane and this is set a few weeks later after the bathroom scene with Percy,this is a fluff aswell(this was kinda a request but they just asked for a part 2,and I really hope they see this x)

You were taking a night walk to calm yourself down from all the fuss of the new kid..at least that’s what you we’re telling yourself..,Percy Jackson,you were one of the unlucky ones that had to help him find out what he was good at,it did not go well,so now you we’re strolling around camp in your pj pants and sports bra with a small jacket on trying to relax until you saw her.

You and Clarisse have been…talking,kinda.I mean yea you two have been getting closer than before,but your not friends just.. aquanauts per say.Everyone knew something was there I mean there was for Aphrodite and ares aswell but everyone also knew not to bring it in front of you or her.

Anyways, why was she out so late?You wondered and why is she..soaked…?you enquired to yourself before she saw you “why are you out so late?”she said looking at you with a cocked eyebrow “i-i uh..why are you wet?”you said looking her up and down “none of your business.” Yea you guys are definitely not friends.

“Um ok..”you said looking down “you didn’t answer my question.”she said crossing her arms “you know we’re not supposed to be out this late”she said sternly glaring at you “your out to!” You said trying to defend yourself “that’s different,come on”she said and grabbed your arm “where are we going?”you said pulling away from her.

“I’m taking you back to your cabin”she said grabbing your upper arm and yanking you “NO!..please I don’t want to go back there..”you say gripping her forearm to stop her from pulling you “why?” She said her tone questioning but you stayed silent “have they been starting again?!”she yelled angrily,everyone knew that a few girls in the Aphrodite cabin have been starting on you for not being a copy and paste of them.

It started of as teasing,then it went to sly comments of how you acted like the comments a bitchy aunt would say at Christmas,then it went to hair pulling then to saying you don’t belong it the Aphrodite cabin and so on.

“No..yes”Clarisse let out a sigh and started dragging you in the other direction without saying a word,you stayed silent trying not to cry thinking about the cruel words the girls have been calling you

You arrived at cabin 5,ares cabin,her cabin, “w-why are we here..?”you said between small unnoticeable sniffles “why do you think,your staying here tonight”she said while pushing the ares cabin door open and dragging you in there was only a few people down stairs maybe 2 or 3

“Where is everyone..?”you asked Clarisse as she drug you up the stairs with her to avoid her half-brother matty and his knowing gaze on the two of you “I made them stay at training for capture the flag tomorrow” “oh yea I forgot about that..”

There was no one upstairs,just you and Clarisse you thought as she got some clothes out from her chest of draws,you were standing next to her bed looking around trying to make it not awkward,it wasn’t working.

“Take your jacket and shoes off and sit down”she said while eyeing you,you obeyed siting down and slipping your shoes off,she then chucked a dark red band t-shirt at your lap “there,put that on”she told you and went digging in her draws again,trying to find clothes for herself.

When she did she started talking and turned around before pausing “does it fit-…you know when I gave you the shirt and told you to put it on it wasn’t rhetorical,right?”you looked at her for a few seconds before gripping the hem off your jacket and rolling it between your finger tips,you went to speak before shuffling and slipping your hands under your jacket and slowly pulling it off all with Clarisse looking at you.

You pulled the shirt the right way round before slipping it over your head and pulling it over your chest and then all the way on,just in time to see Clarisse look away and move her still dripping hair over her shoulder before speaking “I’m gonna get in the shower and get changed you..”she started before pausing “..you stay here and do what you want,I’ll be like 10 minutes”she stated while walking to a oak door in the corner of the large room.

When Clarisse came out 10 minutes later,her hair still dripping going to do her hair care routine,you were half asleep on the edge of her bed eyes not shut but hooded snuggled up with one of her pillows,she sighed and started to do her curl routine until she heard you mumbling something incoherent until something very clear slipped out of your mouth,

“Your so pretty..”you said cuddling further into her pillow “i-uh..thank I guess” she said focusing back on her hair “your welcome clari..”she huffed out a sigh before starting to speak “what have they even been saying”she started finishing off her hair and walking over to you “what have who been saying..?”you said looking up at her “your half-siblings” she finished

“Oh..nothing much,just pushing me,saying I’m not supposed to be a child of Aphrodite and little sly comments…”you replied “who”she said sternly as you sat up “‘s okay it doesn’t matter” you said trying to avoid her gaze “who”she repeated “clordia,Chelsea and molly..”you said looking up at her tiredly,

She sighed and sat down next to you gently grabbing your shoulder and making you lay down with her “your tired,go to sleep”she said laying your head on her chest.

After she thought you were asleep she kissed you on the side of your mouth “goodnight”she whispered laying her head on top of yours,

Yea definitely not friends.

A/N:hey sorry this is kinda short but it is very fluffy and there so cute together remember to read Aphrodites bane before this but it’s ok on it’s own to also my requests are open wide for your surgestions have a great day/night and bye🤍

#clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #cabin 5 #cabin 10 #fem!reader #aphrodite!reader

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throneofsapphics · 1 year ago

Text

I've been thinking about poly!nessian & I have so many things stuck in my brain so here we go! just a few headcannons/scenarios

warnings: implied sexual content - nothing explicit, nightmares

Nesta having a nightmare

You brush the hair from her face, fingers running carefully through the sweat-soaked strands, Cassian quietly slips out to get a glass of water, careful to close the door quietly. "It's alright," you murmur, focusing on gentle, soothing, and steady motions "you're not alone nes." Shuddering breaths, before she sits up, taking the glass from him. Shuffling, you slide behind her, peppering kisses on her shoulders, Cassian's arm stretches over both of you, tugging his two girls in close.

"Running" the stairs with nesta

You get to the bottom, and convince her to carry you on her back the way up. For training, of course. Deciding to add an extra challenge, one to test her concentration, can reach around tease her, hand brushing around the curve of her breast, until she snaps, "keep it up and you'll be carrying me." You behave after that

Cassian does something to piss nesta off, except he can't figure out what it is. After 24 hours, he finally comes to you.

"Put me out of my misery," he groans, collapsing next to you on the couch. "I don't know what you're talking about," you press your lips into a tight line, fighting back a smile. He give you a 'cut the bullshit' look, and you sigh, "have you asked her?" "Three times. She told me I should know by now." He gives you what could only be described as puppy dog eyes, and you stifle a laugh "If I tell you, she'll know. Then she'll be mad at both of us." Cassian asks the house - an icy wind whipping both of you in the face, a remprimand. "It always takes her side," he grumbled. Glancing at the clock, Nesta would still be out for several hours, training with the Valkyries. "Come on," you grab his hand, tugging him to his feet, heading towards the balcony. "I have an idea for an apology."

Nesta coming home to her apology

Cassian's nearly brimming with anxious but hopeful energy, glancing at her with pleading eyes. Next to him, you're hiding a smile, she cocks her head, narrowing her eyes at you. Wordlessly, you grab her hand and tug her towards the dining room, Cassian following behind. There, a basket on the table - with an early copy of Sellyn Drake's novel, not set to be released for another week, various chocolates and pastries, and a few pretty flowers from the areas surrounding Velaris. She knows whose idea it was, but also saw each of your touches. You must've pulled several strings to get that book, she recognized the flowers - ones Cassian had taken one time, fiddled with her braid until they were woven inside. She takes the basket, "don't interrupt me this time," she warns Cassian. His mouth lips part, half in surprise, half in disbelief. You 'shush' him. Nesta's teeth dig into her bottom lip, and she tucks the basket under one arm, striding up towards him. Cupping his face with her spare hand, she presses a quick kiss to his lips, darting out of his way before he can deepen it.

You working a late night

Alone in the shop, you try to focus on your work, but the prospect of getting home to Nesta and Cassian proves distracting, as always. "Almost done," you mutter under your breath, filling out the dreaded paperwork. Three more sheets, and you'll be free. "With what?" You squeal, pen clattering across the counter. Cassian catches it before it hits the floor, but ink's already splattered on the marble counter. "Damn it," you huff. Maybe the ink will add character. Before you can grab the cloth to wipe it, Cassian's already there, pressing a kiss to your cheek, sliding around you, hand brushing along your lower back. "Thought we'd keep you company." Nesta's leaning across from you, one elbow propped on the counter. "Please tell me you brought snacks," you plead - an edge of desperation in your tone. Your stomach has been growling for the last hour. Her hand rises, a bar of chocolate balances between two fingers. She slides it across to you, fingers brushing against yours. "Here, love." "Fuck, you're perfect," you moan, teeth snapping a large piece, letting it melt on your tongue. The scent Cassian and Nesta's arousal fills the room. "I have work to do," you remind them. "Don't stink up the place." With Cassian hugging you from behind, it takes a bit longer than usual to finish up.

#nessian x reader #nessian x y/n #acotar x reader #nesta archeron x reader #nesta x reader #cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #nesta archeron x y/n #nesta x y/n #acotar drabble #acotar headcannons #poly!nessian #poly!nessian x y/n #poly!nessian x reader

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braveclementine · 10 months ago

Text

The Fundraiser

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OC Elizabeth Lightwood. I do not condone any copying of this.

You were scared to death as Tony zoomed along the streets of California. You were entirely certain he was going to crash the car and kill the both of you. Tony, on the other hand, seemed completely relaxed like he wasn't going eighty-five miles per hour.

You wished you could hold onto something, but the expensive leather probably wasn't something you wanted to dig your claws into.

He had cleaned up nicely in an expensive suit with a blue tie and he had given you a small orange bow that went around your neck. It wasn't tight and you actually liked it a lot. You thought it sort've made you look like a smart bunny.

Eventually, Tony had to slow down so that he could pull up to the stop, the valet immediately rushing around. Tony leaned over to unclip your seat belt- that really hadn't been doing anything for you- and picked you up in his arms. He gave the keys to the valet and headed up the red carpet stairs.

There was a lot of shouting which made your ears lie flat to get away from the loud noises. Fangirls seemed to ignore your presence, screaming and cheering when they saw him, attempting to talk to him, but he cut his way through the crowd. He kept a firm hold on you as he made his way towards Obadiah Stane who was speaking to one of the reporters outside the door.

"Hey Tony, remember me?" A gorgeous blond simpered as he made his way towards- and past- her.

"Sure don't." Tony replied, hand tightening around you just a little bit. "Look great, Hef." He said, patting an older man wearing what looked like a maroon bathrobe on the shoulder. He was surrounded by young women and you could smell that he was smoking something.

Tony propped you up so that your paws were on his shoulder and you were looking backwards from the way he walking. The man that was wearing the bathrobe turned and looked around until the girls corralled him back.

"What's the world coming to when a guy's got to crash his own party?" You heard Tony ask.

You heard Obadiah laugh, a sound that sent chills down your spine and you turned your head so that you could see the man. "Look at you. What a surprise!"

"I'll see you inside." Tony said shortly and you could tell that he was displeased with the father figure.

"Hey." Obadiah said and you went from looking at him straight on to seeing him from the side as Tony turned to face him slightly. "Listen, take it slow, all right? I think I got the board right where we want them."

He was talking right above you into Tony's ear quietly. Your own ears twitched.

"You got it. Just cabin fever. I'll just be a minute." Tony replied. And though he turned and walked away from the man, you could see Obadiah's expression. You decided that you really did not like Stane.

Tony made his way through the hall which was filled with lots of people wearing suits and dresses. They pointed at you, whispered- though you could hear because of your ears- and you knew they were wondering when Tony had found his soulmate.

"Give me a scotch. I'm starving." Tony said, handing a bill over to the man behind the counter. You saw the man standing next to him turn and ask, "Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah?"

"Agent Coulson."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. The guy from the. . ."

"Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division." The man named Agent Coulson finished while Tony kept saying 'yeah' like he really remembered.

You'd never met him before. He did look like a person who would be an agent though. Nearly bald, a slightly boyish face, and the posture with his hands placed in front of his body.

"God, you got to get a new name for that." Tony replied.

"Yeah, I hear that a lot." Coulson replied. He was still facing Tony, though Tony had turned so that his back was to the bar. As you were on the shoulder farthest from Coulson, you had to prop yourself up higher on your front legs to look at the Agent.

What did an Agent want with Tony? Did they know he was building an Iron Man suit?

"Listen, I know this must be a trying time for you, but we need to debrief you." Coulson continued. "There's still a lot of unanswered questions, and time can be a factor with these things."

You could feel Tony's head moving and you knew that he was looking around the crowd. Probably for someone specific, you thought glumly. Not that you could blame him if he wanted to dance. It wasn't like you could.

"Let's just put something on the books. How about the 24th at 7:00 p.m. At Stark Industries?"

"Tell you what. You got it. You're absolutely right." Tony said and you knew he'd found whatever he'd wanted. "Well, I'm going to go to my assistant and we'll make a date."

He moved through the crowd and you saw Coulson looking after the two of you, an amused look on his face because he knew Stark had no idea what he'd said.

"You look fantastic, I almost didn't recognize you." Tony said.

"What are you doing here?" You heard Pepper's voice and you relaxed. He was just looking for someone familiar. You'd jumped to conclusions.

"Just avoiding government agents." Tony replied.

"Are you here by yourself?" Pepper asked.

"Besides Pumpkin, yes. Where'd you get that dress?" Tony asked conversationally.

"Oh, it was a birthday present from Happy." Pepper said.

"That's great. Good to see he's spending his paychecks like he's supposed to be." Tony joked.

Pepper laughed and Happy actually walked over. "Mr. Stark." He greeted him formally. "Hi pumpkin."

You twitched your nose at him in greeting.

"How about you hand Pumpkin over and we can dance just once." Pepper suggested, looking over at Happy who held his hands out for you. Tony carefully handed you over and Happy carried you over to where he was actually working. He had his laptop and some papers and you sat on the seat next to him and watched as Tony and Pepper danced.

You wondered what it would be like to dance with him. You were shorter than Pepper so you wouldn't be the same height as him. Maybe with heels though. You wondered what colour you would've worn and how gracefully you would have danced next to him.

You glanced around the room and saw that Coulson was scrutinizing their every move. Happy coughed, making you jump and he petted you, apologizing.

The next time that you looked, Tony and Pepper were gone.

🎃 ::::: 🧡 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 🧡 ::::: 🎃

Pepper had asked Tony for a vodka martini extra dry with at least three olives. So Tony had headed over to the bar to get it for her. He wondered if they would serve him a normal water just for Pumpkin. Probably.

So he ordered a water as well.

He saw a familiar looking blond approaching him and turned slightly, casually, so that his back was to her. He leaned against the bar and she came around him to face him from the front.

"Wow. Tony Stark."

"Oh, hey." He said, pretending that he actually remembered who she was. The last thing he remembered about her was that he'd slept with her. She was actually the last woman he'd slept with before Afghanistan, before Pumpkin had come into his life.

"Fancy seeing you here." The reporter whose name he was pretty sure started with a 'C' replied.

He desperately tried to remember her name and said, "Carrie."

"Christine."

"That's right." He nodded.

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here tonight." She said and he couldn't help but notice her curves. "Can I at least get a reaction out of you?"

"Panic. I would say panic is my reaction." He replied, desperately thinking of his soulmate. He wished now he hadn't left her with Happy. He'd just wanted a dance to show he was absolutely fine, Pepper knew that. And Pepper was harmless to dance with because she was taken and everyone knew it.

"'Cause I was referring to your company's involvement in this latest atrocity."

"Yeah, they just put my name on the invitation. I don't know what to tell you." He lied. Well, partially lied. He was bothered he hadn't gotten an invitation and wondered why Obadiah had withheld it. But he really had no idea what atrocity she was talking about.

"I actually almost bought it, hook, line, and sinker."

"I was out of town for a couple months, in case you didn't hear." He bit out.

"Is this what you call accountability?" She asked, thrusting photos at him. "It's a town called Gulmira. Heard of it?"

He hadn't and said nothing, looking at the four pictures she'd handed him. The first showed dead cattle, with terrorists in the background in their tank.

The second was of more terrorists, unloading precious cargo and his heart started to sink as he recognized the casing.

The third proved it, showing the green case up close with the name Stark Industries on it with the tracking numbers.

And the fourth showed one of the rockets that they were going to use. The one with three in the triangle shape and he felt his heart sink lower.

"When were these taken?" He asked, no longer angry. He was serious now, wondering if his Iron Man suit would be completely ready to get there and wipe them out.

"Yesterday." She replied.

"I didn't approve any shipment." He replied.

"Well your company did." She said.

"Well, I'm not my company." He snapped.

He headed over to where Happy was sitting, Pumpkin curled up beside him. Tony picked her up gently and she stirred, opening her eyes. Pumpkin looked down at the photos in his hand and back up at his face. She nudged his cheek with her nose.

"We've got a problem Pumpkin." He sighed and made his way out to where Obadiah was still talking to reporters.

"Have you seen these pictures?" Tony asked. "What's going on in Gulmira?"

"Tony, Tony. You can't afford to be this naïve."

"You know what? I was naïve before, when they said, 'Here's the line. We don't cross it. This is how we do business.' If we're double-dealing under the table. . . Are we?"

"Tony, your picture please!" One of the reporters called and he felt Pumpkin dig her nails slightly into his shoulder.

Obadiah finally smiled and made him turn to the reporters, "Let's take a picture. Come on. Picture time."

They put their arms around each other and he felt Pumpkin wriggle a little as she got to close to Obadiah. He knew she had an aversion to the older man and was starting to wonder if she had some sort of animal instinct that he should be listening to.

"Tony. Who do you think locked you out?" Obadiah asked softly as the reporters started to take pictures. "I was the one who filed the injunction against you. It was the only way I could protect you." Obadiah patted his arm and then moved away, down the stairs.

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incideous · 2 years ago

Text

˓𓄹 ࣪˖ KEEP IT QUIET, DOLL • philip graves

★ pairing: philip graves x fem!reader

☆ word count: 0.6k

“christ, darling, keep moaning like that and the boys next door will hear ya.” graves smirks, his hand making their way up to your throat as he deliciously pounds his cock into your pussy.

see, this is what you get when you purposely try to make him jealous. the fact that you boldly made the decision to tease graves and openly flirt with simon did not sit right with him.

graves had your legs up, folding them all the way back to where your knees where on each side of your head. he was so deep and so close to you that you swore you could feel his breath and the dog tags that were swinging in your face.

how can you stay quiet when he’s fucking the living daylights out of you?

looking up at him giving him desperate whimpers and moans, it’s just when the tip of his cock hits that spot that almost makes you pass out. your cunt sporadically clenching around him, making him let out a deep groan.

“babydoll, fuck,” he leans down to your neck as he nips and suck at the already dark spot. graves comes back up to your ear and whispers, “now will you finally stop flirting with that masked idiot, or do I have to stop fucking you and take away your precious orgasm? huh, do you like the sound of that?”

you whimpered, head shaking side to side and your hands gripping his thick biceps. you could feel every ridge of his veins arms and how much they were flexing as he continue to pound you into the mattress.

“y-yes sir, I’ll stop. please please, don’t stop. i-it feels so fucking good.”

graves groans, smirking from seeing you so desperate and horny for him. drives him fucking insane. he gives you one hard thrust that has your eyes roll to the back of your head, you swore you saw stars. “fuck philip! holy sh-!”

graves cuts you off by taking the hand that was wrapped around your throat and placing it over your mouth. he devilishly smirks, watching the way your eyes widened and got more and more glossier.

“since you wanna act like a whore around other men that aren’t me, you make a single noise and I’m gonna stop. and I don’t think you want that now, do you princess?”

you could only give him a nod as he kept fucking you like there was no tomorrow. “I didn’t think so, now, be a good girl and take all of my cock.” he says as his hips clash against yours, the sounds of your juices squelching ringing in his ears. his balls slapping against your ass as he watches you in your fucked out state.

“look at you, being so obedient fo’ me. baby so fucked out she can’t even pay attention.” he mocks, talking as if he was talking to a child.

you moaned, your eyes closing and your hands gripping onto him as you take in the overwhelming pleasure you’re feeling. graves hisses as your nails dig into his skin, knowing that it’s gonna leave dark crescent shaped marks.

he watches as you shake under him, and he knows you love what he’s doing to you. he knows it turns you on just as much as it turns him on.

he uncovers his hand from your mouth. you wanted to scream so badly but you remember his words from a few minutes ago. ‘you make a single noise and he stops.’ your entire body trembles as he reaches his hand down to rub on your swollen, engorged clit and that’s when that feeling in your stomach snapped.

you couldn’t help it, the feeling of his rough fingers on your clit made you scream out, your juices flying all over his hands, his stomach, and maybe even on his desk.

graves stopped his trusts, “tsk, now baby. didn’t I say that if you make a single sound, I’ll stop?” too fucked out to even come up with a proper sentence, you mewled when he slid out of you.

“guess I’m gonna have to teach you how to follow directions, now am I angel? all fours, now.”

#cod smut #modern warefare 2 #philip graves #graves mw2 #graves x reader #call of duty smut #call of duty #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves smut

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neopuppy · 3 years ago

Note

How are hs mc and haechan doing

should we check in and find out?

Hot Sauce drabbles | Maybe We Should (M)

warning: heavy petting, fingering, more emotional manipulation

“Hey..”

Haechan leans on his front door, having to buzz you up stairs. The first time you’d come to find out he lived in some luxury penthouse occupying an entire floor.

Haechan takes in your disheveled appearance, having to acknowledge to himself he was responsible for part of this.

“Are your parents okay with me staying over? Since…I’m a girl..”

Haechan interrupts you, moving aside to let you enter. “Don’t worry about them. They’re never home. Is this all you brought?”

“I kind of..had to rush out.”

It’s hard to look at Haechan straight on. Hitting a new low as you paced back and forth outside with a small bag of toiletries and enough clothes to last you a week. The list of contacts in your phone looked bleak and useless. Maybe it was the crushing sense of panic that kept repeating his name in the back of your mind. Either way.. he answered, and that was enough.

“I’ll help you pick up more of your things tomorrow.” He takes a hold of the bag you're carrying. Leading the way as he takes charge. You steal quick glances around, surprised by the collection of high-end furniture and expensive art. Only now realizing you didn’t really know much about him, or any of Jeno’s friends.

Haechan switches on the light to his bedroom. A large bed in the center, two computer screens surrounded by stacks of games, a nice high definition TV hanging on the wall. Near his bed sits a vinyl record player, showing off a copy of Michael Jackson’s Thriller album.

He steps further in, kicking a pile of clothes closer to his closet. Shrugging with a small smile as he sets your bag down on his bed. “Sorry for the mess. I wasn't expecting a guest.”

“This..” you stagger near his bedroom door. Nerves getting the best of you before stepping inside.

Haechan picks up on your hesitation, seating at his computer chair. An expensive looking leather gaming chair he probably spends hours on.

“You can stay in the guest room. We have a couple.” He says to calm you. “My parents won’t notice. The guys stay over all the time when they forget their limit.”

“Ah. Okay.” You opt to sit on his bed, albeit with caution. Questioning how rude it is to sit where someone sleeps. He had brought you to his room after all..and took the only seat available for himself. “I’m really sorry for imposing on you like this.”

Haechan folds his hands over his stomach. Dropping his head back in thought, revealing the smooth expanse of his throat.

“I didn’t think you and Jeno would last this long honestly..” Haechan starts, rubbing his thumbs together back and forth. Maybe he was just tired of waiting to see it end.

“Excuse me?” You blurt out surprised. Shaking off any thought of the veins crawling up the sides of his neck.

He moves to stand, hips swaying in a cocky manner. Coming to sit on the edge of his bed. “Nothing lasts forever right?”

“That’s..” your eyes widen in shock, blinking it away just as fast. “I mean.. why would you think that?”

“You were never very loyal to him..” his brow lifts, huffing out a slight smirk. “Why’d you come to me of all people after everything?”

“I-I can’t go home. My m-mom told me not to come b-back..” you stutter a little under Haechan’s watchful eyes. Cowering into yourself as he moves to sit by your side leaning back on the headboard next to you.

“..you could have..called Renjun.” Haechan starts rubbing your knee, digging his thumb into the dips soothingly. “Or Jaemin even..”

“But..” your eyes go large, blinking up to stare at him leaning in closer. Thighs part open with the assistance of his heavy palm cupping around you. Clutched around your inner thigh as he eases lower. Hugging the material of your leggings to your skin with intentional touch. “You said..”

Haechan’s lips brush the bridge of your nose, slinking deeper into his stacked pillows. Your lips spill open as he cups around your core. Already warm, frustrated, meeting his palm with despair. Getting off had always been the best way to curb sadness after all..

“What did I say?” He whispers, lowering above you. Stroking three fingers between your hidden folds. Sheathing in deeper to collect wetness, soaking past your cotton underwear. “You need to be honest now, the way your body is.”

Your struggles clear in the way the skin between your brows wrinkles. Conflicted, weakened by the fresh memory replaying like a broken clip in your head.

“Do you..” you sigh, relaxing flat on his bed. Haechan finding your clit, pinching the two layers of fabric around you. “Do you really..”

Lips open above yours, making you pant as he moves faster. Gliding between your soaking bottoms. Letting out a groan between torturous squishing sounds passing.

“You think I’d do all of this for just anyone?” Lazed eyes bore into yours, rubbing hair covering his forehead against you. Tentatively pressing a soft kiss to your upper lip. Finding himself still skeptical, it’s not as if you hadn’t used him once already. “Say it.”

Haechan nips your cupid's bow, sinking in past your underwear to finally feel you. Letting out a small sigh from how wet you are.

“Do you really like me?” The questions a little heartbreaking to even hear. Quickly making to work around your clit with fast rubbing motions. His head nods against yours.

“You’ve forgotten what it’s like.” He grunts, pressing against your hip. Cock swelling up watching you come undone. A shattered little helpless thing to fix, or completely destroy. Submissive, ready to be trained.

Haechan groans sweeping lower, collecting wetness along the way. Thrusting three fingers inside of you. His palm slapping roughly on your clit with each pass of his digits. Burying deep inside, throwing in an extra wiggle that has your eyes rolling back.

Lips rub over your hung open ones, licking inside between his words- “Really don’t even know what it’s like anymore do you?”

“I’m..I’m..” your hips roll up, matching his rapid movements. Clenching your thighs together, making it harder for him to shove in. Propping himself up on one arm, Haechan’s fingers hit deep. Limbs flexed, gritting his teeth.

“I’ll show you.” He stares down, biting back a groan as you pulse around him. Arching up through orgasm ripping free. Inching out with a soft circular rub over your clit. “Remind you what it’s like to feel something. Make you feel good. Make you be good for me.”

“Fuck.” You land boneless. Stressful thoughts dissipating in the moment. Hearing nothing besides your ragged breath. Coughing and opening your eyes as Haechan slips wet fingers inside your mouth. Sucking and cleaning around him.

“I like you.” Haechan says with a proud gleam in his gaze. “Unlike someone else, I’ll make sure you know that.”

#anon #hot sauce series #haechan smut #haechan drabbles #nct smut #haechan fanfic #haechan scenarios #haechan imagines #nct fanfic #neopuppy fics

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jadededge · 2 years ago

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Tear You Apart | Ch.2

Pairing: GOT7 x OC

Genre: Demon/Mafia AU, Romance, Smut

Rating: M

Summary: Jaebeom and Yugyeom are "running an errand" when the most delectable scent that he ever smelled hit Yugyeom like a ton of bricks. Yugyeom stops JayB and soon he smells it. They look across the street and see the her. They stalk her for awhile and finally get the chance to manufacture a meet with her.

Wattpad | AO3 (will likely always update these 2 places first)

Navigation: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

The next week, one of their men reported back to provide all information collected on her. It really was a test for them to not take matters into their own hands following the discovery of their girl. Luckily for them, work was quite busy so they had other things to occupy their minds. But now they could focus on her.

Profile Summary

Name: Selah Stone Age: 28 Occupation: Graphic artist Address: Midtown Lofts, Apt 32 Bank information: Aura Credit Union, Acct #78934 Medical records: Section D Family history: Section E Relationship history: Section F

And so on and so forth.

Got7's reach was far and wide. They were able to learn everything about her. Where she ate, where she got groceries, what bars she frequented. It appears she has no family in this city but quite a few friends, including an ex-boyfriend.

Jaebeom growls handing off the only copy of the file to Jinyoung. "What is it?" Jinyoung questions, opening the file.

"You'll see."

The maknaes gather around Jinyoung to see what has their leader perturbed.

"Ex-boyfriend? No problem, we'll just kill him." BamBam brushes it off.

Youngjae rolls his eyes, "no. Remember what happened before? And hyung just said-"

BamBam cuts him off "I know, I know. We play nice this time." He huffs and walks to sit down "but that's so boring and it takes too long."

He's right, it does take too long but we have to be better. Jaebeom thought. "I need to think before we do anything. And we still have problems to work out with the nightclub acquisition. Is Otto still giving us trouble? We've already started the transition and we have the grand reopening on Friday." He looks to his right hand, Jinyoung.

"He's still being a prick, stalling unnecessarily. Mark and Jackson are at a meeting there now, they should be back soon."

"Send them to my office when they return." He walks away.

"Can I see the file now hyung?" Yugyeom pouts.

"No. I need to dig into this. I'll be in my office." Jinyoung leaves the maknes alone.

Mischief plays in BamBam's eyes. "Want to see her ourselves? I saw where she goes for lunch during work."

"Lets go!" Yugyeom.

Youngjae looks a bit apprehensive. Disobeying Jaebeom was not something he made a habit of but he wanted to see their new mate. "Okay let's go but we only look from a distance."

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

A knock on the door brings Jaebeom out of his thoughts. "Come in"

Jackson and Mark walk in. "You wanted to see us?" Mark questions taking a seat at one of the chairs in front of Jaebeom's desk.

"Yes. How did the meeting go?"

Jackson scoffs, "it went." Smirking towards Mark. "Things should go smoothly from now on."

Jaebeom chuckles. "I take it he pissed Mark off."

"And did. He's lucky he's in a partnership with our brother legion." Mark's eyes darken.

"So he beat the shit out of him instead of killing him." Jackson laughs.

Mark was always level headed in discussions but he had a nasty temper when pushed too far. They had recently started the process of acquiring a series of nightclubs. They owned just a few already but they needed new spots to do business among other things. Otto, the owner of the nightclubs and member of another legion, didn't want to sell. His constant meddling and procrastination had reached a boiling point at today's meeting.

"I'm sure I'll hear about that from the other leaders. But otherwise good work."

"So about our girl..." Mark trails off.

Jaebeom hands him the file and begins to rattle off his plan.

"I was hoping the acquisition would go smoothly because one of the places she frequents will now be under our empire. Jackson..."

Jackson perks up at the mention of her name.

"I want you to lure her in." Jaebeom orders.

Jackson smirks, "with pleasure."

_________________________

Across town Selah was stepping into the café near her job that she frequented on her breaks. It wasn't huge but still had plenty of space for people to enjoy their food, or work.

Settling at a table in the corner, she feels like she's being watched again but a quick casual glance around doesn't provide any answers. Maybe i'm being paranoid.

"Dude stop." Yugyeom nudges Youngjae with a whisper yell. "You're going to scare her."

Youngjae shoves him off, "shut up, she can't tell its us."

BamBam chuckles, "and you didn't even want to come. God she's beautiful." The other two hum in agreeance. "I'm going to talk to her." He gets up.

The others hum again then they realize what he's doing, trying to stop him in hushed whispers. "Bammie wait-"

"Hi." Bam appears in front of Selah flashing his most charming smile.

Selah looks up and her heart stops. "Oh, um, hi!"

"I'm sorry to disturb your lunch but I saw you when I walked in and I'd regret it the rest of my days if I didn't at least introduce myself." He holds his hand out. "I'm BamBam."

"I'm Selah." She smiles mesmerized. "You're not disturbing me. Please have a seat"

After chatting for awhile, asking the basic 'get to know you' questions, Bam says, "I hate that to cut this short but I should get going. Can I get your number?" ____________________________

Back at the table. "You know, Jaebeomie-hyung is going to throttle him." Yugyeom says to Youngjae.

"Absolutely. But... we came with him." He sighs.

Yugyeom looks at his watch. "Yeah... we're in for it. We should head back."

"But we cant just yank him up from the table."

After what felt like forever, BamBam comes striding back over with a huge smile. The boys exit the café and get in the car to head back home.

"So what happened??" Yugyeom questions from the backseat.

"What's she like??" Youngjae adds in enthusiastically looking to Bam in the passenger seat.. All thoughts of what awaits when their older brothers find out are gone.

"She's perfect. I got her number." He giggles.

Yugy slaps his arm. "Bammie. You are in deep shit. You know that right?" He laughs.

"How are they going to know?"

"I'm not saying anything." Youngjae immediately responds. "Jaebeomie-hyung is already going to strangle me for coming along."

BamBam rolls his eyes, "no he won't. You're his precious baby." Bam pinches YJ's cheek. "You'll be okay. I, on the other hand may be banished."

Pulling up to the house they see Jackson coming out as they walk up.

"Where have you 3 been?" He questions.

Yugy quickly answers, "he had to collect from one of the groups on Canal. They gave one of our guys some problems, so we showed up together."

Jackson eyes them suspiciously as the maknaes try to keep their expressions neutral. "Hm. Okay. Well I'm off to get our girl. Jay B gave me the okay." He beams and walks away before they could say anything.

"Okay yeah. We might all die." Bam says with a 'yikes-my bad' expression. ____________________________________

Later that afternoon, Selah is shopping for dinner at her usual grocery store. She gets the feeling she's being watched again. "Ugh. Seriously whats wrong with me?" She says quietly to herself.

She continues her shopping thinking of her meeting with BamBam earlier. He was really nice, and very handsome. If he does text her, she was resolved to be open to getting to know him. He was intriguing and it had been sometime since she had met someone new that was interesting to her. Just as she rounds the corner she bumps into someone.

"Oop. I'm sorry!" She gains her balance dropping a couple of items out of her basket.

The stranger is already bending down to gather the lost items. "Oh no, its my fault. I'm sorry." He stands and places the items in her basket.

She finally gets a good look at him and Selah is stunned. How was she able to meet two hot guys in one day. "I'm Jackson."

She caught herself staring. "Oh- uh- I'm Selah." She extends her hand.

"Wow. If I knew I would bump into such gorgeous people, I would've tried this store out sooner."

She blushes. Hard. Trying to deflect the attention from herself she asks, "oh are you new to the area?"

"A bit. I don't live here but I just bought a business in the neighborhood, so I've been around. Figured I try it since its close." Placing the items back in her basket. "Making pasta for dinner?"

She chuckles nervously. "Yeah. It's quick and easy. Long day today."

"I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from finishing your shopping." He chuckles nervously and goes to move.

"Oh it's okay!" I wish we weren't awkwardly in a grocery aisle. She smiles.

"My business is actually a club. We're opening this weekend. It's called Se7en. You should come."

____________

Note: it took me forever to write this and it kinda sucks and went all over the place lol to be honest I've been in a slump especially with this story. I just needed to get over this hump in the plot. I'll do better. Hope you enjoyed :)

#kpop fanfic #got7 smut #got7 jaebeom #got7 fanfic #jb got7 #jinyoung #got7 fanfiction #got7 jb #got7 yugyeom #got7 mark #got7 youngjae #kpop fanfiction #fanfic #romance fanfiction #ao3feed #wattpad

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erodasfishtacos · 4 years ago

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It’s Just Me (mini blurb)

if you enjoyed this fic - PLEASE reblog, rec, like, and come chat with me about the fic!

if you like my work and can donate as i do this for free - please consider donating to my ko-fi.

———————

It was a terrible twos kind of day. The kind of day when YN can’t tote Ivy along to a charity organization brunch because she would meltdown.

Harry had her in his office with him, she was sitting on a blanket Harry had laid out, and was quietly playing with her stuffed animals (mostly seals.)

Occasionally, she would babble to herself and get pissed of at her inatimate playmates, ending in her tossing it to the side.

He caught himself just staring at her, smiling as he watches the little human he and his soulmate created right in front of him.

When his phone rings, he automatically picks it up, professionally stating, “Styles.”

“Hi, this is Dan from Payroll,” The guys voice was already shaking and Harry knew he was about to get really pissed off.

“How can I help you?” He asks in a tone that’s was definitely did not sound like he wanted to provide any assistance.

There is a pregnant pause before Dan nearly stutters, “Er, I accidentally missed reviewing the marketing departments hours and they did not receive their last paycheck.”

Harry takes a very deep breathe because he wants to do what he normally would - scream through the phone at this idiot.

However, he can’t because his curly haired little baby is playing with her toys in the middle of the office with a smile.

“Please come up to my office,” Harry replies curtly before hanging up.

He gets up, goes over to his daughter, and squats in front of her, “Ivy, baby.”

She looks up at him with a toothy grin before reaching over to hand him a stuffed seal, “Play, daddy.”

Harry thumbs over a stray curl on her forehead, “Daddy can’t, my love. I need y’to go with Granny Dor for a little.”

Ivy had been very clinging to both YN and Harry recently. She had a fit when YN dropped her off, despite how happy she was to see her dad.

Her brows furrow, lips purse, and Harry has to laugh because she looks like a carbon copy of him with the sour face.

“Oh, no mean looks t’daddy,” He hums with his own frown, “S’just for a moment, m’dove.”

“No.”

“Ivy, y’need to listen.”

And Harry knows it coming, she sucks in a huge breathe and then just lets out a scream in protest of him.

“Ivy Elizabeth Styles, y’do not scream. Y’know better. Are we going to have to take a timeout or are you going to go sit nice with Dor?” Harry’s voice is still softer than he’d use with any of him employees but extremely firm to her.

“No timeout, daddy,” She mumbles, her volume decreasing significantly as she lowers her gaze from her father’s.

“Alright, then c’mon. Thank you for listening,” Harry praises, gathering up her toys for her and leading her into his waiting room where Dorothy is typing away on her computer.

“Dor, Dan is coming up and I need to have a private meaning. Will y’watch her for a little?”

Ivy is already clambering up into her lap, into the warmth of her arms, and nuzzling in - because Granny Dor spoiled her silly.

Harry rolls his eyes, muttering, “And you and YN say I spoil her too much. Bloody ridiculous.”

Dorothy just shoos him away, readjusting Ivy’s bow, and combing through her hair softly to simmer her down a little.

Dan trails in solemnly soon after to face his inevitable doom.

He sees his boss’ daughter perched on the secretary’s lap and he wonders how such a sweet little thing could be created from the demon of a man.

As Harry and Dan meet, Ivy gets wriggly and squirms off of Dorothy’s lap.

“Stay close,” She murmurs to the toddler as she picks up her phone to answer a call for Harry.

Of course, Ivy doesn’t listen, and she noticed that the door to her father’s office is cracked open just the littlest bit.

It’s enough for her to slip through the space between the heavy doors and toddles on, she’s blocked by the leather couches so Harry can’t see her.

“I have givin’ you so many fuckin’ chances!” Harry seethes angrily at his employee. His tone was more like a growl than anything else.

Ivy pauses, eyes widening in fear as she hears her dad speak in a frightening manner she’s never heard before.

“I…There was a coding error that I had been distracted with, it won’t happen again,” Dan insists, knowing he had actually committed a fireable offense.

“You are absolutely correct because you’re fucking fired,” Harry replies, no wavering in his raspy register.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Dan explodes, “It’s unfucking fair treatment! It was one mistake, you fuckin’ asshole!”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I can fuckin’ show you unfair treatment. Get the fuck out of my office and learn how to do your goddamn job,” Harry retorts, his voice rising as well.

Ivy is stuck in her spot, frozen in surprise at hearing the arguing and how mad her father sounded, voice echoing through the room.

“You listen to me-“

“Get the fuck out of my office!” Harry booms furiously, this employee managing to get a rise out of him.

“I was ju-“

Both the men pause when they hear a wail from behind the sofa and the sound of Ivy plopping herself on the ground.

Harry instantly is out from behind his desk and going to round the sofa in a flash with a rose of panic in his chest.

His heart drops when he sees his baby looking up at him with fear in her watery eyes and she’s literally shaking.

“Oh, baby. Did y’hear daddy bein’ loud?” Harry murmurs in his sweetest, comforting voice - uncaring of his employee hearing him.

Harry expects her to nod sadly and ask for a cuddle but she instead wriggles backwards when he goes to reach for her - out of his reach.

“Ivy, little dove, s’just y’daddy,” He tries again, sitting down in front of her - doesn’t even look up as Dan leaves quietly.

She’s scared though and has had never felt worse in his life as his daughter backs away from him until she’s getting to her wobbly feet.

He tries again, reaching his arms out, “Ivy Elizabeth, s’just daddy. M’sorry I scared you, bub.”

Ivy doesn’t budge, crying loudly with her face pinched up as hot tears run down her soft chubby cheeks.

Dorothy appears with a worried look, “I apologize, I thought she was by the table.”

“S’not your fault I’m a shitty father,” Harry mutters, standing back up and roughly brushing off his trousers.

“Oh Harry, she’s just a little frightened,” Dorothy hums, picking the girl up when she toddles quickly over to her.

Her dad trails over, “Ivy, m’love. Can you look at daddy?”

She refuses, digging her face into the woman’s shoulder, curls bouncing fiercely as she clings onto her.

Harry loved to be feared. Not like this though. Not by the child he’d literally jump in front of a train for without a second thought.

He would rather have her screaming, pitching fits, throwing toys rather than this. She was so scared that she wouldn’t even look at him.

“Let me take her on a little stroll, okay? See if I can calm her down a bit.”

—

Harry waits patiently for Dorothy to arrive back but he automatically hears his daughter’s steady stream of sniffles and whimpers.

He goes out to the waiting room to see her reentering the room, she sighs, “I think it’s time to call mummy.”

Harry had no idea how he was going to explain this to his wife. He was I trouble and he knew he deserved it.

“Hey H, is the bab okay?” YN greets warmly, chattering in the background.

“Er, she’s okay, just upset. Ivy accidentally walked in on me flipping out and firing an employee. Now she’s scared. Dor tried to calm her down and she doesn’t want to be near me right now.”

YN’s next words were calm, Harry however did not miss the sharp edge when she replies, “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Then she hangs up on him.

Which she really never does unless she is really really upset.

—

When YN arrives, Ivy is sat on Dorothy’s lap with puffy eyes and her thumb tucked between her full lips, popping it out when she sees her mother.

“Mumma!” Ivy shrieks, tears beginning streaming down her face as she impatiently waits for her to cross the room and gives her a soft kiss to the forehead.

“Hi baby, give mummy one minute and then we’ll leave okay?” YN murmurs soothingly, thumbing of some of the tears.

Ivy nods but is standing next the secretary’s desk, waiting patiently with her thumb going right back between her lips again.

Harry’s sitting at his large oak table, looking like a guilty puppy as his wife comes in with a disapproving look on her face.

“Baby, m’sorr-“

“What the fuck, Harry? Why is our daughter out there terrified right now?” YN demands, crossing her arms to prove her anger.

“Some fuckin’ idiot messed somethin’ up and Ivy walked in while I cursed him out and fired him. She was hiding behind the couch. It was an accident,” He defends, bristling a bit.

“Even if the door was shut, she would have still heard you. You knew better than to act like that around our daughter.”

“I had to fire him,” Harry makes the lame excuse because he knows he’s in the wrong and he’s not always great at admitting he is.

“You were supposed to have Ivy for two hours and this happens. I have her all day everyday and I’ve need had an issue with controlling myself in front of others!” YN yells (quietly) at him.

“What the fuck is tha’ supposed to mean? Y’calling me a bad father? Y’have her all day with her because I work so that you can stay at home with her.”

YN rolls her eyes, “Well thank god for that, she’d be cursing and screaming at people all day everyday if she was with you all the time.”

Harry is thoroughly pissed at his wife and she is equally just as furious with him - it doesn’t happen often but when it does it’s bad.

“Y’got some fuckin’ nerve. Our baby is polite, well-mannered because of me too! Not just you, fuckin’ claiming all her good qualities,” He replies with a snarl.

“Don’t talk to me that way,” YN bites back, “I’m not one of your employees. Neither is Ivy despite you talking like that in front of her.”

Now she was just trying to push his buttons and it was well onto it’s way of working.

“Y’bein’ fuckin’ ridiculous! It was a accident and you’re acting like I did it on purpose! Fuckin’ hell!” He raises his voice in frustration.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are raising your voice at me but I’m leaving,” YN tells him, giving him one final glare before storming out of the office.

“Fuck!” He grunts, smacking cup of pens from his desk before slamming his fist on the desk.

—

Ivy was waiting patiently, whimpering when she sees her mum, and gesturing to be picked up, “It’s past your nap time, Vee.”

“Nap,” She lisps sadly, instantly curling into then familiarness that is her mother. Eyes instantly fluttering shut.

“Thank you, Dor,” YN whispers, blowing her a kiss, before trekking out of the office with the exhausted little girl.

—

Harry can’t handle the rest of the day, wants to go home, and make amends with his wife which leads him to heading out only an hour after them.

He finds YN in the den with the baby monitor propped on the coffee table, she’s watching a horror movie with a smoothie in hand.

“Hi, m’heart,” Harry murmurs cautiously, loosening up his tie until it falls limp around his neck.

She glances over at him, sarcasm lacing her tone,“So you do know how to talk without yelling at me, hmm?”

His face falls, frowning, “Hey, lovie - don’t be like tha’. Y’gonna let me apologize?”

“Come scratch my back and I’ll hear you out,” She hums, keeping a serious face.

“Y’drive a hard bargain, m’heart. Show me y’tits,” Harry begins to smile, striding over and getting her no time before he’s pulling off her shirt and sports bra.

He sits down then gently lays her down on her tummy and she rests her head in his lap, cheek pressed against his thigh.

“I shouldn’t have done that, I wasn’t thinkin’. Now I’m worried she’s gonna hate me forever,” Harry mumbles, using his blunt nails to trace up and down her back.

“You’re her favorite person. She’ll always love you more than anything,” YN tells him seriously, arching when he scratches an extra itchy spot.

“I hope so. I love her more than anythin’. A little mixture of how much we love each other. How much we worked to get her,” He sighs softly.

—

YN dozed off and Harry tucks a blanket around her bare chest.

When the baby monitor alerts that Ivy had woke up after quite a long nap, he takes a deep breath before walking up the staircase to his fate.

He’s preparing himself for her to scream and cry when she sees her monster of a father because he’d scared her so horribly.

But his mini just widens her green eyes and he looks at his world with bated breath, waiting for the scream or tears.

Instead, she just dimples happily at her father, and squeals with excitement, “Daddy! Hi Daddy, miss you!”

And just like that….

They’re best friends again.

—-

Enjoy! Come talk to me!! 💕❣️💕❣️💕❣️

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geekfanficwriter · 3 years ago

Text

Slumber Party- Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader

Summary: When your parent’s go away for a weekend you finally get some alone time with your girlfriend Robin. Based on this request: How about needy and submissive Robin? With a dominant female reader? (And mommy kink?👀) Words: Warnings: SMUT (18+, minors dni), Dom!Reader, Sub!Robin, teasing, mommy kink, fingering, oral, strap-on use, lots of dirty talk

‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’ Your mom asked you. It was your parents' anniversary this week and your dad had surprised your mom with a weekend away, meaning you’d be alone for the next few days. ‘Yes, mom, I’ll be fine. I’ll just do homework or something.’ You lied. You had no homework this weekend but your parents didn’t need to know that. ‘Okay, well stay safe and make sure you take care of yourself. I’ve left money in the kitchen for some food.’ She fussed, pulling you into a hug. ‘Will do. Have fun on your trip.’ You said as your dad opened the front door. You said your goodbyes to your parents, your mom panicking slightly, despite the fact you would be moving out in a few months to go to college anyway. You stood by the door, waiting until you heard their car pull out of the drive and away before practically running to the phone and dialling the number for Family Video. ‘Hello, this is Family Video. How can I help you?’ Steve asked, picking up the phone after a few rings. You could tell he was bored from the sound of his voice. ‘Hi Steve, is Robin there?’ You asked him as he let out a loud sigh at your question. ‘You know we're not meant to take personal calls at work right?’ ‘Oh please, I know you do it all the time, now put Robin on the phone.’ You heard some yelling and shuffling on the other end of the phone before a voice came through. ‘Hi, it’s Robin.’ You heard her speak. ‘Hello, I was wondering if you had a copy of Deep Throat in the adult section?’ You joked. ‘Hilarious, Y/N. Did you call me just to make a joke?’ She replied deadpan. ‘No, I had something important to tell you. And don’t pretend you’re not happy to hear my voice, baby girl.’ You smiled, twirling the phone cord around your finger. ‘I’m not admitting to anything. What do you have to tell me?’ You could tell from her voice she was smiling. ‘So my dad just surprised my mom with a weekend away, meaning I have the place to myself. Please tell me you’re free this weekend because I want you to stay over.’ You begged. It had been so long since you’d had some alone time with your girlfriend and sneaking off for quickies in the back of Family Video or your car wasn’t cutting it anymore. ‘Well lucky for you, tomorrow is my day off so I guess I could come over tonight.’ ‘Yes, I’ll pick you up from work. You finish at 8 tonight right?’ ‘Yeah, 8. I’ll see you then.’ ‘See you then. Love you, baby.’ You hung up the phone, not waiting for a response as you knew Robin wouldn’t tell you that she loved you while in a public place. You ran upstairs, jumping in the shower and cleaning yourself up, making sure you were ready for tonight. Once you were finished with the shower, you walked through to your room, glancing at the clock on your bedside table. It was only 6 so you had plenty of time to get ready, though you would have to leave early so you could go to the store first to get food for the two of you. You walked over to your drawers, digging through them until you found what you were looking for. It was a new pair of lingerie you had bought a few weeks earlier but hadn’t had a chance to wear. It was a dark green set, a colour which Robin loved on you, all lacy and practically see-through. You knew you looked good in the set and you couldn’t wait for Robin to see you in them. You put on a pair of jeans and a shirt over the top, not wanting to give anything away, before sitting down at your vanity, doing simple makeup to highlight your features. You couldn’t wait for tonight.

You walked into Family Video at 7:45, smiling as you saw your girlfriend standing behind the counter. Robin’s face lit up when she saw you walk in, waving you over. ‘Hey, how’s work going?’ You leaned against the counter, wanting to lean over and kiss Robin but you couldn’t because of the other customers in the store. ‘Busy, it is a Friday night.’ Robin said as a customer came over to check out a film. You stepped out of the way, going to look for a movie to watch tonight. You looked around before your eyes settled on Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2. You didn’t even know it was out on film yet. You picked it up and walked over to the counter placing it down in front of your girlfriend. ‘Chose a movie for tonight.’ You grinned at her as she groaned. ‘No, I don’t want to watch this. Can’t we watch a drama or a comedy?’ She asked picking up the film. ‘You picked the film last time we hung out and it was in Italian with no subtitles so I had no idea what was going on. It’s my turn to pick. Plus you wouldn’t come to see this with me in the theatres so I haven’t seen it yet.’ You pointed out. ‘Fine.’ She said, scanning the film for you. ‘Oh, I’ve picked up food and stuff for tonight so we’re good on that front.’ Just at that moment, Steve walked out from the back. ‘Hey, you know we don’t finish for another 5 minutes, right?’ He asked, putting returned movies back on the shelf. ‘Yeah, but I had to pick up a movie anyway.’ ‘Well don’t go in the back room, I don’t want to walk in on you two ever again.’ Robin started blushing at his words, while you laughed. ‘5 minutes isn’t nearly enough time. If you think it is I feel sorry for Heidi, Jessica, Sarah. Who are you seeing right now?’ You said trying to remember who was the last person Steve was dating. ‘Casey, actually and I’ll have you know I’m great in bed.’ You made a grossed-out face at his words. ‘Ew, I don’t want to know.’ You turned to Robin and mouthed Is Casey new? To which she nodded. ‘Robin could you actually help me rather than staring at your girlfriend?’ Steve asked. ‘Go help, I’ll wait out in the car.’ You said blowing a kiss to Robin as you walked out.

Once Robin finished work, she climbed into your car and the two of you drove home. The second the two of you entered your house, you pushed Robin up against the wall, dropping the plastic bag you were holding and pressing your lips against hers roughly. You gripped her hips roughly as you slid your tongue in her mouth while Robin wrapped her arms around your neck. ‘I missed you.’ You mumbled, pulling away from her lips slightly. ‘You’ve been with me for the last half an hour.’ She laughed. ‘Yeah, but I missed you like this.’ You pressed your lips against hers again. ‘As much as I want to babe, I’m absolutely starving.’ You sighed, pulling away and picking up the bag of food, taking it through to the kitchen. ‘Fine, food and then the movie.’

‘Robin stop squirming.’ You were currently on the couch your legs outstretched and your back against the armrest. Robin was lying between your legs, her head pressed up against your chest, you had your arms wrapped around her waist, her hands out on top of yours. You two had finished your pizza a while ago and half-empty bags of various snacks were lying all over the table. You were about halfway through the movie and you could tell from Robin’s squirming that she was getting antsy. ‘Sorry.’ She pouted. She sat still for a few minutes before turning her head slightly and pressing a kiss to your clothed breast. You immediately moved your hand up and grabbed her chin, turning her head back to the tv. ‘I’m trying to watch a movie, baby girl.’ You told her. You knew that she was horny so you decided to tease her. You moved your hand under her shirt, slowly moving it up, stopping right below her breast. You kept your eyes on the screen as you started rubbing small circles on her stomach, you started moving your hand down, continuing to rub circles as you did so. You could hear her letting out tiny whimpers which only encouraged you. You continued to lower your hand until you reached just above her trousers. You kept rubbing circles, feeling her stomach spasm beneath your hand. You stopped moving your hand, keeping it still as she started rubbing her thighs together to relieve some of the pressure between her legs. ‘Focus on the movie, baby.’ You whispered in her ear. ‘I’m wearing something really special under my clothes for you, baby girl.’ You added on, making her groan. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face, you loved teasing her and making her beg for you. You decided to take your teasing a bit further, sliding your hand into her underwear and placing your hand over her slit, keeping it completely still. You could feel how wet she was against your hand, it made you excited to see how turned on she was with only the smallest of touches. ‘Please.’ She whined out grinding up against your hand. ‘What do you want?’ You asked, leaning forward and nipping her earlobe. ‘Please, touch me, mommy.’ You had to suppress a moan at her words. You loved when she called you that, but you weren’t done teasing. You rubbed your hand around her hole, getting your fingers wet, you then rubbed her clit a few times before pulling your hand out of her underwear. She threw her head back on your shoulder letting out a loud whine as you licked your fingers clean. ‘I’m trying to watch a movie.’ You told her, turning your head back to the film. Robin sat still for a few minutes as you focused on the movie but you felt her start to wiggle again. You looked down at her and saw she had shoved her own hand into her underwear, rubbing herself. ‘Umm, what are you doing?’ You said grabbing her wrist to stop her from moving. ‘I’m sorry, I just needed to feel something.’ She pouted as you pulled her hand out of her trousers, interlocking your fingers with hers so she couldn’t touch herself. ‘And did I say you could do that?’ You asked. ‘I’m sorry, mommy, please. I just need you so bad.’ She whined in her beautifully raspy voice. ‘Fine, upstairs now.’ She stood up, practically running up the stairs as you followed closely behind. You both entered your room and she turned around and wrapped her arms around your neck, going to kiss you but you pulled away. ‘Nope, strip and get on the bed.’ You told her. She started to strip as you walked over to your wardrobe, pulling it open and grabbing your box of toys. You pulled off your clothes, leaving on your bra and underwear before picking your strap out of the box and putting it on. You turned around to see Robin lying on the bed completely naked. You stared at her for a moment. Even though you’d seen her naked a hundred times every time you saw her naked you were stunned at how perfect she was. Her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, just every part of her was perfect. You stopped staring at her and walked over to the bed, climbing on top of her and resting your head on her stomach. You pressed small kisses to her stomach as she moaned. ‘What do you want, baby girl?’ You asked, running your hands up and down her thighs. ‘Your mouth, I need your mouth on me, please.’ You obliged, pulling yourself further down the bed. You kissed your way up her thigh, skipping over her cunt and kissing her other thigh. You eventually moved your mouth over to pussy, pressing kisses to the outside, before pulling her legs further apart and licking a strip up her. You then focused your attention on her clit, flicking it with your tongue. You put your mouth around her sucking hard as you started to swirl your tongue in circles. She moved her hands down into your hair, gripping hard as she moaned, encouraging you as you started to suck harder. You continued sucking and licking until her moans got louder and you knew she was close to coming. You pulled away as she let out a groan of frustration. ‘Why did you stop?’ She whined as you pulled yourself up, pressing a kiss to her lips and sliding your tongue into her mouth. ‘I didn’t put this on for no reason, I’m going to fuck you.’ You pointed at the strap you were wearing, reaching over to your top drawer and grabbing out the lube, smearing it all over the strap. You lined yourself up with her, slowly pushing in as she moaned. You pushed all the way into her before stopping, keeping your hips still. ‘I really wanted to watch that movie and you interrupted me. Why should I do anything for you?’ You whispered in her ear before biting her neck. ‘I’m so sorry but I needed you so badly.’ Robin whined out as you kept your hips painfully still, your hands resting on her hips so she couldn’t move. ‘Beg for it, baby girl.’ You said, moving one hand to her nipple and playing with it. ‘Mommy, please just fuck me, I promise I’ll be a good girl. I just need you to fuck me.’ Robin begged you. You made a face as if you were thinking for a moment. ‘Okay.’ You lean down and kiss her passionately while starting to move your hips, pulling the strap in and out of her. You moved down to kiss her neck as she let out moans her hands gripping your hips which moved in and out of her at a fast pace. You moved your mouth even further down, taking her nipple into your mouth and sucking hard on it before biting down slightly making her let out a loud moan. You pulled one of your hands away from the side of her head, rubbing her clit with it as you picked up your pace, moving the strap at the perfect pace. You kept sucking and biting at her nipple as you fucked her hard, the moans from her mouth being the most perfect sound you’d ever heard. The way her head was thrown back against the pillow, her eyes closed and her mouth parted in the most beautiful way only encouraged you, wanting to make her feel good. ‘Mommy, I’m so close.’ She whined out as you kept pounding into her, rubbing her clit in circles. You moved the hand that was still by her head into her hair and lifted her head up kissing her hard. ‘Open your eyes, I want you to look at me as you come.’ You told her. She did as she was told, her eyes heavily lidded as she stared at you. ‘Good girl. Is my good girl going to come for me?’ You encouraged her as you kept your movements up, not slowing. ‘Yes, oh god, yes, mommy!’ She yelled out as she came, forcing herself to keep her eyes open and looking at you as she did so. You slowed your hips down, helping her ride out her orgasm as she let out small pants. She lay beneath you, breathing deeply as you pulled the strap out of her, rolling off her and lying down next to her. You removed the strap on, placing it on your bedside table, leaning over to kiss her cheek lightly snuggling into her as she recovered from her orgasm. She turned to face you, placing a kiss on your lips and fiddling with your bra strap. ‘These are really nice. You look so hot.’ She said, pulling herself over so she was curled up against you. ‘I bought them just for you.’ You kissed her forehead lightly before she moved her head down to kiss the curve of your breast, just above the lace of the bra. She placed her hands on your hips moving her head down to kiss your stomach as she pulled herself on top of you. ‘I want to make you feel good.’ She said between kisses, hooking her fingers into your underwear and pulling them down your legs. You kicked them off as she kissed the top of your cunt, placing her hands on your thighs and pulling your legs apart as you felt the cold air hit your soaking wet pussy. She placed a kiss to your clit before licking a strip up your entire pussy making you moan. She started to suck on your clit, moving her tongue in circles as she did so. It had been so long since you’d had her mouth on you and you had missed it so much. She was so skilled with her mouth, knowing exactly what to do to make you come. You moved your hands down to wrap them in her hair and pulled lightly, making her moan. The vibrations against your clit felt amazing as you let out a loud groan, pulling your head up off the pillow. Your reaction encouraged her as she started to hum against you, the feeling making you practically scream. ‘Oh my god, keep doing that. That’s so good, you’re such a good girl.’ You moaned out, your voice higher than normal. Your words only encouraged her, as she kept licking and sucking at you for the next few minutes, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. ‘Baby, I’m so close, don’t stop.’ You whined out, gripping her hair as hard as you could as you felt your pussy clench. She flicked her tongue up and down as your head fell back on the pillow, letting out a final moan as you came. She slowed her tongue down licking you clean as you loosened your grip on her hair. ‘Such a good girl.’ You mumbled, breathing heavily. She pulled her mouth away from you, moving up and pressing a kiss on your lips before resting her head on your chest cuddling up to you. You wrapped your arms around her as you lay there with your eyes closed. The two of you sat cuddling for the next few minutes, just enjoying being together. ‘I love you.’ You eventually spoke, running your hands through her hair. ‘I love you too.’ She said, looking up at you. ‘I’m sorry about interrupting your movie.’ ‘It’s okay, baby. I was only doing that because I love teasing you.’ You smiled, kissing her hair. She smiled, cuddling in even closer to you. ‘God, I’m so tired.’ She yawned. ‘You better get some sleep, baby, cause tomorrow I’m going to do so much more to you.’

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