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ingravinoveritas · 1 year ago

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Hi! :) So, about posting habits and copying:

Georgia posts this screenshot of someone asking her to tell David that they're in love with him/want to marry him (not sure anymore, but I'm counting on you to remember haha), responding yeah, I'll get right to that, or something akin to that.

It's funny enough and her reply doesn't come across as anything more than humorous, in my opinion, especially since we've seen this theme for years, on Twitter and Instagram. It's on-brand-Georgia.

Her tone, albeit the sarcasm, is still pretty nice, playing the ball back by pretending that she's not telling David because then she'd have to compete with the person who wrote in. I'm sure whoever texted her this was giggling at their phone when Georgia responded. I'm not sure if the same thing will be the case with fan interaction number two, however: Cue, Anna.

Because now, a few days later, Anna posts what is pretty much the same interaction with a fan (about Michael, obv.), but all the charme is gone? Or is that just me?

Let's get something straight, though: The fan message she got was a lot less "sweet" than the one Georgia received (how many kisses does it take for a message to become either passive aggressive or just too hyper or even kind of insincere in tone?), so I won't be too harsh on her for responding in kind (xxxx). Still, had me cringe a little.

Thing is, the more or less blatant copying of Georgia's social media voice keeps fascinating me. Whilst, at most times, it's obvious but still fine as its own thing, this time the whole post really just seemed too...Georgia. Firstly, because it really is like a total replica, secondly because Georgia has worn the "playfully possessive"-badge for years now. I'm not saying that Anna is just pretending to also be that, I genuinely don't think that's true, at least not fully, but what I am saying is that she's clearly aware of this sort of humour being well-received within the fandom and also very intentional about timing. It's always... funny? Noticable? exactly when these "replica posts" appear.

Although, in this case we also have to consider that she responded at the time she got the message (or a day later, at most), so the timing isn't really on her. In fact, this might just be a fan actively going for having the same interaction with Anna that another fan had with Georgia, basically setting her up. Especially considering how the DM was worded - again, it seemed a little too intentional/over the top.

(But yeah, a couple of hours earlier: The Tennant's face sitting post (and, whew lol), so is this trying to somehow keep up with their dynamic again?)

I want to stress that I don't think that any of this is a bad thing. There's literally no harm in her trying to cater to the fandom with this tone of voice and seeming a bit unoriginal. And what do we know, maybe she and Georgia really are that similiar, it's not like Georgia's humour and interactions are that singular. But I'm still having a different response to Georgia's posts in comparison to Anna's, even though they are so similiar, and that's what it comes down to.

Maybe that's completely unfair towards Anna (to some degrees it must be, since Georgia simply has been around longer and therefore claimed her kind of tone, if that's even a thing), but maybe it also comes down to authenticity - or a lack thereoff?

(Grouping these together since they are related.) Well, I hadn't seen AL's story this morning until I got your message @wanderingsemi, so thank you for the heads up. And it is, as you said, an almost exact replica of an Insta story Georgia posted a week ago. Let's get the visual up here, so folks can see both stories:

So, the first thing I will say is that I often have difficulty with discerning people's tones online, as the lack of vocal inflection/other indicators tends to make things challenging. I appreciate you sharing that Georgia's tone came across as humorous to you, because while I definitely did get the sarcasm, I also felt a sense of contempt coming from Georgia's reply, too. I do agree, however, that her response was very much "her," in her trademark style, and is something we've come to expect over the last few years now.

It's probably worth mentioning that these are both odd/weird things to send to your fave's partners. I know social media has largely eroded a sense of boundaries in a lot of fans, but it's just an awkward thing to say overall. (I submit that it's actually more awkward/inappropriate than RPF, because RPF is fantasy and is not something any of these people would come into direct contact with unless they went looking for it.) That being said, while neither Georgia nor AL can control the things fans send to them, they can choose to respond (or not) to said comments. So thinking about your Ask, @armangelus, we have Georgia here essentially doing the same thing as AL--being possessive of David in response to a random DM--yet the results are wildly different.

Which then brings me to AL's response. Going back to our discussion on tone, I am not sure that I interpreted the message AL got as being "less sweet" than the one Georgia received, as they seem incredibly similar to me. I'm not sure the message-sender was actually being passive-aggressive, but because AL seemed to look at it that way, it is then reflected in her response (and is fitting with her past responses/personality, which has been passive-aggressive on multiple occasions).

For a little backstory (and this largely comes from @problematicwelshman, whose blog is well worth reading for a lot of tea related to Michael and AL going back to 2019): AL's social media was entirely scrubbed when her and Michael's relationship first came to light (end of June 2019). This also coincided with Michael's longtime PR person quitting, and a seeming overhaul of AL's social media presence. Initially, though, a lot of her posts were in her own voice, but they did not seem to go over well/she was not connecting with the fandom (see this post for links to examples, most of which involve belittling Michael/making fun of his weight and appearance).

Then in mid-2021, this all shifted with an event Michael appeared at for the 150th birthday of the Royal Albert Hall. Suddenly AL was praising and complimenting him in ways she never had in any of her past posts. This also happened to coincide with Georgia starting the #Shebergs hashtag (which sounds like an iceberg, a.k.a. the thing that took down the Titanic, so I'm still not sure why that was chosen as a portmanteau of AL and Michael's names), as well as AL promoting Last Train to Christmas, a movie of Michael's that she appeared in that was released at the end of 2021. So this was another social media overhaul/PR effort, seemingly perfectly timed with AL having something to promote and trying to advance her acting career.

But what this was also the start of is what you alluded to, which is that inauthenticity. I can completely understand you having a different reaction to AL's story than Georgia's, because as you said, that charm is not there, which I think is because it's Georgia's charm, not Anna's. And as much as she might copy Georgia's tone or the types of content she posts, you can't really copy charm--it's either something you have, or something you don't. I think it also ties into the other thing you referenced, which is the "playfully possessive" thing. It actually is something that Anna has copied, also on multiple occasions (see below)...but much like with this story, it doesn't come across the same way as when Georgia does it:

(Another notable thing about the response on the left is that AL was not even tagged in the original tweet, which also copies Georgia's pattern of randomly replying to fans on Twitter--usually as a result of searching David's name, which she has been known to do.)

So yes, I think we can definitely see a clear pattern here, which has seemingly only become more blatant as of late. And while I agree there is no harm on one level of trying to appeal to the fandom, I don't think it's unfair to AL at all because there is such a clear, agenda to what she is doing that becomes more obvious as you look back over the past few years. That, in my opinion, is what makes it seem so forced and not genuine, and is why one might feel a different reaction to her post versus Georgia's.

Those are pretty much my thoughts, rambling as they were. I appreciate both of you sharing yours as well so that we could have this discussion. Thanks for writing in! x

#wanderingsemi #armangelus #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #georgia tennant #the more i think about it the weirder this all seems #the Georgia copying is getting more obvious #but so are other things #this is cringey all around tbh #but yeah #and the more she tries to look like she owns him the more obvious it is she doesn't #because Georgia has earned that. but AL has not.#fandom woes #anna lundberg #discourse

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rockinlibrarian · 6 months ago

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Post-Umbrella Academy S4 Reaction Part Four: On How to End a Story (obviously spoilery but under a cut)

Okay! I'm back and have a moment to write again! It's Field Trip Week in my real-life job which means I've been a LITTLE exhaused, and sunnymarbles has been having me dye their hair in sections each night which is taking some time as well (artists, you know). -actually I started typing this paragraph and got called to dye hair again because they're going out in public tomorrow so can't be having half-dyed hair. And I do still have work tomorrow (one last field trip!) so I ought to go to bed but DANGIT I'M SICK OF BEING INTERRUPTED FROM WRITING.

SO, when last I left you with my TUA S4 reactions, we discussed my favorite part of the season, so now it's time to discuss my least favorite part. As I said in my FIRST reaction post, I ENJOYED Season 4, right up until the very last moment.

The literal very last. Because until that moment, there was still time to turn it around.

Discussion about exactly why the ending didn't work for me, and me making shameless comparisons to Legion again, below the cut.

But see, the comparison is important this time, because both shows ended with the same cop-out twist: "Our characters have messed up SO BADLY that the only option is to completely erase the events of the show from existence!" The biggest difference, though, was that I finished Legion feeling peaceful, and thinking that if it wasn't a completely happy ending it was at least bittersweet. It was only later that I looked at the last episode and noticed the plot holes, the deus ex machina, the deliberate ignoring of earlier canon just to fit what they were trying to make happen-- it was actually a pretty messy ending.

But here's the thing-- the characters were ready. They'd all grown and learned lessons and forgiven trespasses and so forth. So I felt happy for them.

And the events of the show had been erased from existence, but time was happening over again, with the promise that THIS time things MIGHT go better. Not guaranteed. The fix-it I wrote for the end of Legion was merely putting the pieces in place to assure that.

But although the end of the Umbrella Academy was less messy plot-wise than Legion's ending, the CHARACTERS were still a mess, and that erased any feel-good feelings I could have had.

I suspect one reason I enjoyed all the rest of the season better than a lot of people was that my blorbo, Viktor, was the only one who hadn't backslid in his growth-- the only one doing relatively well, and, to be frank, the only one that really seemed to be doing anything useful to the plot in the course of the season. Everyone else was falling back on bad habits both tangibly and emotionally, getting into subplots that never reconnected to the main plot, and honestly most of them were back at the lowest points of their lives at the moment the Cleanse erased them. As I said in his essay, it would have worked if Viktor had made the ultimate sacrifice while saving everyone else, and that's because he would have been going out a hero. For everyone else it felt much more like simply giving up-- a hopeless suicide.

But again, I held out until the very end, the post-credits, hoping that they would at least, like on Legion, get a fresh start. Or if we could see them in the Afterlife working out their issues in a space that they couldn't destroy-- and it's not like this show DOESN'T canonically have an Afterlife where characters can hang out coming to peace with what their lives had been. The characters were not in the right place emotionally to end in a way that would leave the audience feeling good about it.

I feel kind of lucky that I'd already started noodling with a crossover where those characters really COULD work out their issues in...well, another universe, if not the Afterlife. Now it became all the more obvious-- the Hargreeves desperately need to end up at Summerland. They need therapy from people who specialize in people with superpowers. They need a peaceful place to chill together and reconnect into the family they kept threatening to be but somehow failed to be when the series ended. So I've got my little fix-it to work on.

But let that be a lesson for other creators. You can do an everybody-dies ending, you can reset the entire universe, but you've got to do it in a way that really involves all the characters and leaves us with a sense of hope. Otherwise, what was the point of the story you were telling? You have to end your story, not just let it fall apart. You have to convince the audience that this is inevitable.

Speaking of terrible endings, I shall now abruptly end this essay, because it's midnight and I have work tomorrow and I'm falling asleep at my computer. I will write more soon!

#the umbrella academy #on how to tell or not tell a story

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foxy--stoat · 2 years ago

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Could u do a poly fic with all the roomates (young ones) pls

They were just going to see a film. Just a few guys, going out on the town. Nothing poofy whatsoever going on. (They were all, as a matter of fact, extremely poofy.)

Rick was wearing his most yellow overalls, and his boots that Neil said made him look like a woman. He stood by the door, posture proud and open, waiting for the rest of the roommates to come downstairs.

"You all had better hurry up, you know! The movie starts in fifteen minutes!"

"You can't rush magnificence." Called Mike from the bathroom. Neil sighed so loudly that it hurt even Vyvyan's head, who was pacing back and forth looking for his bracelet sharpener.

He stomped down the stairs, clearly in distress.

"Have you seen my bracelet sharpener?"

"I don't understand what you need it for, Vyvyan, are they not sharp enough?" Rick threw his hands in the air, a motion that went entirely unnoticed by Vyvyan, who was now ripping open and throwing the couch cushions across the room.

"I need them to be sharp, Rick. What if you're being a twat and I need to hit you? That wouldn't be much fun with a dull bracelet, now, would it?"

"Well, try asking SPG. He seemed a bit shifty earlier."

"Thanks Rick!" Vyv ran past Rick back up the stairs, punching him on the arm. This was Vyvyan's equivalent of a kiss on the cheek.

It had taken some getting used to, the whole dating thing. Rick had never dated anybody before, so he had expected flowers and chocolates and pampering. Instead, he got Vyvyan.

A few days after they announced their relationship to the house, Mike made a proposition and Neil agreed, and now look at them. A conglomerate of confused university students who also dated.

He was happy, as were the other boys. Their behavior hadn't changed much, save for leaning heads on shoulders, or holding hands. But he was happy this way, with his friends and his boyfriends.

He'd be happier, though, if they would hurry up!!! He was starting to get impatient.

Just as he was rolling his eyes, Neil moped down the stairs, barefoot.

"Where are your shoes, hippie?" Neil frowned.

"Can't find them. Just typical, of all the shoes in this house, of course mine go missing."

"I'll help you find them."

"Really? That's really sweet of you, Rick!"

"Not for you!" Rick blushed at the implication that he'd do something kind for Neil. "I just want to get out of here quicker."

"Oh."

Rick felt bad. "Well, don't look so sad! I don't hate you, you know."

"You don't?"

"Neil, we're dating. Would I date someone I don't like?" Rick shook his head in exasperation, as if this were supposed to be obvious to Neil.

"Oh. Thanks, Rick."

"You're welcome."

---

The streets smelled like roses and gasoline. Vyvyan picked a flower from a bush and handed it to Rick, who blushed, before looking inside it to see a gargantuan bee.

"Did you see it?"

"Yes, Vyvyan, I saw the bee. God forbid you do something kind for me for once, honestly."

"What do you think I was doing?" Vyvyan shook his head in disbelief that Rick could be so thick-skulled.

Behind the quarreling pair, Neil and Mike walked slowly. Mike noticed Neil admiring the rosebushes, and carefully snapped one off of its stem. Neil saw this, and moped. Mike was probably going to catch up to Vyv or Rick and give it to one of them. It wasn't his fault they all hated him, after all- His train of thought was interrupted by Mike tucking the flower behind his ear. He stopped walking in surprise.

"What's wrong, Neil?"

"I thought that was for Vyvyan. Or Rick."

"No, of course not! They hate flowers."

"Well, thanks, Mike. It's really pretty."

"Of course, babes. Anytime."

When they got home, Neil would press the flower under an untouched stack of dusty textbooks, and keep it on his bedside table, smiling every time he saw it.

---

They were 15 minutes late to the movie, but only Rick complained (without much heart). After all, it was hard to beat the time they'd been weeks late to University Challenge. They barged into the theater with their usual lack of regard for others. Vyvyan led the way down the aisle and clambered over a family of disgruntled filmgoers. They sat down, arms over the backs of the chairs, feet up on the chairs in front of them. Vyvyan pulled out a bag of popcorn, and they shared it, loudly chewing.

"What's going on?" Neil asked.

"Shh, pay attention." Mike said. Neil frowned.

The rest of the film was relatively calm, interrupted only occasionally by a bout of raucous laughter from Vyvyan, or a cry of "Fascist!" from Rick.

As they left the theater, they got many a glare, but they ignored it.

Neil and Vyvyan were used to being criticized, to the point where they'd stopped listening and done what they wanted. Obviously, they had gone to two very different extremes, but the sentiment behind it was the same.

Rick and Mike, however, were very conscious of how they were perceived, and Rick plastered a sneer on his face to disguise the discomfort.

---

The warm air hit them as they emerged from the theater, and Rick took his blazer off and tied it around his waist.

"I'm cold." Vyvyan complained.

"How are you cold? It's nearly 20 degrees!"

"I'm not as warm as you, Rick. Give me your jacket."

Rick spluttered. "I'm not letting you near my blazer, Vyvyan, it's for anarchists only." He turned his nose up, and Vyvyan hit Rick over the head. While he was distracted with the potential concussion, Vyvyan snatched the blazer, and shrugged it over his shoulders.

"Much better." He smiled triumphantly, and immediately his attention was taken by a squirrel across the street.

Rick stood in place, blushing, trying not to blush, and smiling. Mike and Neil kept walking, and Neil collided with Rick. He wasn't the best at watching where he was going. "I know that look, Rick. What's happened?" Mike grinned. Rick looked down, and saw that Mike and Neil were holding hands. A bold move, especially on such a public street. He supposed that Mike was used to bold moves.

"What makes you think anything's happened, fascist? Can a man not be happy? Well, certainly not under Thatcher, that's for sure." He crossed his arms.

"Mike, look, Vyvyan's wearing, like, Rick's jacket." Neil pointed out with his free hand.

Mike's eyes widened and he grinned. "Ah, I see. You should try on his vest sometime, I bet it'd suit you."

Rick gasped. "I would never. That man stinks like a fish. I, on the other hand, keep myself at my hygienic and physical peak at all times.

"Rick, you haven't showered since last month." Neil commented, to which Rick responded by shushing him frantically.

"Whatever. Hippie. When was the last time you showered, anyway?"

"That's beside the point, Rick. Anyway, I think he, like, looks cute with your jacket."

"Yes. Well. Me too, I suppose. I still want it back, though!" He shouted that last part in a very pointed manner, directed toward Vyvyan, who was now trying to climb a fence and reach the squirrel. It laughed down at him, and Vyvyan was getting more and more agitated by the second.

"Alright, that's it." He snarled, and picked up a chainsaw that was conveniently sitting on the curb a few feet away.

"Vyvyan, what are you doing? That's an innocent creature, and I'm not talking about Neil."

"Hey, I'm not innocent!"

"Whatever you say, babes."

"I'm hungry." Complained Rick.

"Oh, shut up." The other 3 chorused.

"Let's go home. Rick may be annoying, but he is correct. It's getting late. Neil, do we have lentils?"

"Yes, Mike. You guys have to help clean the dishes, though, because, like, it's getting pretty heavy, having to do all of them myself every day."

"But Neil, I have to feed the goldfish and water the plants!" Vyv nodded sagely, and Rick backed him up with a wide eyed smile.

"Vyv, you know I cooked those months ago."

"Oh. Well, fine. I'm watching the Bastard Squad after dinner though, none of that nature bollocks you like."

"Fine."

"Ugh, Vyvyan, you know I don't like Bastard Squad, it's just so reactionary!"

"Shut up, poof." Rick scowled.

They resumed the short walk home, continuing to chatter all the way.

***

my ao3 is @paper_chefs_hat :))) this is published in the series "the young ones ficlets"

#the young ones #rick pratt #vyvyan basterd #mike the cool person #neil wheedon watkins pye

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happy-tori-friends · 6 months ago

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hello! would you want to tackle "always looking in the mirror to check if they already 'look pregnant'" with splendont with either/both of the twins as a writing prompt?

it's finally time. FINALLY! WAHOO! YAHOO! and yknow whats next. im writing nutty x lifty. wahoo!!!!!!! it sorta devolved but fuck it who cares!!!

Everything sort of felt different now. Morning sickness was intense for both of them, they were extra tired, emotions were a bit all over the place… If it was a possible symptom for pregnancy, Lifty and Shifty probably had it or would have it in the future.

All things considered, it could have been worse. They have a loving boyfriend with a stable (and pretty high) income and a safe and stable environment with him. A house, not a shitty apartment they can barely afford.

They hadn't ever considered this as something happening. First it was believing they would never find love and then they just… never brought it up or talked about it with Splendont. Things happened though and…

Lifty stared at the mirror, golden eyes looking over himself, trying to pick apart every detail. Of course it wasn't obvious while he was wearing his baggy hoodie, so he lifted it up.

Nothing.

He pouted, just a bit, eyes trailing towards Shifty, who lifted his shirt up, nodded, and then turned away. This had become a habit - despite their overwhelming exhaustion, they often were awake before Splendont due to the morning sickness and a little known ailment known as insomnia. Though Lifty was the one that was really into it…

“I don't get how we can feel so… weird and different and not be showing,” Lifty sighed. “We're skinny and small, we should be showing earlier!”

“Well, you don't usually start showing until the second trimester.”

Arms wrapped around him, and for a second he stiffened, before relaxing and beginning to purr. It seemed Splendont had finally caught them, but it wasn't really a big secret they were hiding. He just usually happened to be asleep.

“But we're small,” Lifty still protested.

“There's other factors than just your size, like if it's your first or not,” The redhead countered, pulling Shifty closer too and dragging them both back to the bed. Shifty let out a noise of protest but surrendered easily, cuddling closer. “Is the bump what will make it ‘real’ to you?”

Golden eyes blinked and then closed, cozying up to the other as the exhaustion caught up to him. “Mmhm.”

“It's real enough,” Shifty cut himself off with a yawn, “It's real enough to me. Test was positive, the symptoms are always fucking kicking my ass… I've cried and thrown up more in the past two weeks than I have in like, what? Two years, maybe?”

Splendont sighed, patting Shifty on the back. “I know, I'm sorry,” he pressed a kiss to the older twin's forehead. “I know this will be tough for you two, but I'll be here every step of the way. I'll take care of you both, I promise.”

“I love you,” Lifty purred, nuzzling closer at the assurance. He felt… safe, protected, loved. If he was to do this with anyone, Splendont was the man he wanted to do it with.

Shifty nodded. “Yeah. Love you.”

The redhead smiled gently, kissing their foreheads and ruffling their hair. “I love you too, both of you. I'm looking forward to doing this with you, no matter what. And no matter how tough it gets, I'll be here with you.”

“And we have each other. Won't be alone in our experiences,” Shifty added.

“You probably will have different symptoms at some point,” Splendont hummed, “but you're right. You're not alone in this experience.”

He paused, running fingers over their abdomens soothingly. “Do you feel nauseous, or do you think that the morning sickness is gone for right now?”

“I think we're okay for now,” Lifty hummed. “Flippy made us some ginger tea the other day and taught me how to brew it, so we had a little of that and it helped.”

“What do you mean he taught ‘you’?” Shifty protested, glaring at his brother. “He taught me too! I can brew tea just fine!”

Both Lifty and Splendont stared at him with a pessimistic look on their faces. “What?” Shifty scoffed. “I can!”

“You have a habit of ignoring directions and instructions, mister ‘undercooked macaroni and cheese’,” Splendont pointed out. “We can hardly trust you in the kitchen at all.”

Lifty nodded, giving his brother a gentle slap on the wrist. “You once put a frozen pizza in the oven for way too long, decided to just check on it to make sure it didn't burn, and then forgot about it until it was basically charcoal,” the younger twin sighed, shaking his head. “Not to mention the bacon grease fire you caused because you spaced out while cooking.”

He looked offended at first, but then his expression changed to frustration as he spluttered, trying and failing to come up with a defense. “That's-! I-! You-!” And then, finally, acceptance. “I need to work on that…” he mumbled, flopping over to his other side.

“Good,” Splendont murmured, patting his head. “Try and go back to sleep, okay? I can tell that you're both exhausted. You need plenty of rest so the babies can get big and strong. I love you.”

Lifty hummed in response, letting out a bog, long yawn. “Yeah… Tired… Love you too… G'night…” he murmured, closing his eyes once more and relaxing.

“Night, love you too,” Shifty added.

By Splendont's side, the two felt safe and relaxed, and though they were not yet showing, they had departed on a new journey in life with him.

#tori talks #asks #prompt fill #lifty 💰#shifty 💵#splendont 🌠#super thieves 🌠💰💵#cw pregnancy #cw mpreg

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the-final-sif · 3 years ago

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//convict childcare AU

Tubbo found himself tracing the patterns in the grain of the wood with his eyes. It wasn't exactly thrilling stuff, but it was something to do.

Behind him, Michael was asleep on the bed. The two of them had played together earlier, and now the toddler was down for a nap. Usually, Tubbo would've left once Michael fell asleep, but Dream's lungs had been acting up with a particularly nasty cough. As much as the man insisted he was fine, he'd also almost died too many times for anyone to be willing to take the risk. So, since everyone else was out, Tubbo was tasked with staying in earshot in case something went wrong.

It wasn't anywhere near as bad as Tubbo thought it'd be. Michael was more willing to play under Dream's supervision, and Tubbo was hoping the extra time might help them bond further. Dream himself spent most of his time resting or watching the window. Sometimes he'd speak, mostly when Michael wanted to show him something, but other then that, things were calm.

When Michael settled down for his nap, Dream had picked up the revive book he'd been making slow progress on for the past few weeks, and Tubbo had taken the hint and turned to face the wall. He was still shocked (and pleased) that Dream was willing to work on it with him in the room at all. The man was still shy about anything to do with the revive book, and Tubbo tried not to push.

Curiosity was prickling at Tubbo, but he kept himself facing the wall. He didn't even ask how far along Dream was in the book! Even though Tubbo wanted Ranboo back, he was very aware that Dream's hands were still a struggle. Phil wasn't happy with Dream writing anything at all, but the two had agreed that slow progress was a fair compromise.

Speaking of Ranboo, his ghost had been hanging around the day before. It seemed to be avoiding Dream himself, but had no problem being in the area. None of them had mentioned that Dream was writing a revive book for him. They'd been worried it might run off.

Actually, wait, what if Dream told it? Dream hadn't met Ghostboo yet, so he wouldn't know to lie! That could be a disaster.

"Don't tell Ghostboo."

Tubbo said it, and then almost instantly realized his words made no fucking sense out of context.

"Uh, that's- Don't tell him about the book. Uh, he's been like, avoiding you I think. But if Ghostboo does come in here, then don't tell him. He's- he's weird."

Keeping his voice flat was hard, and it was only getting harder as Tubbo found more words spilling out.

"I dunno why, but like, he's really insistent that he's happier being dead. So we haven't told him. About the revival. His ghost is really weird in general. I don't- I'm not a fan."

He would've kept rambling, but Dream cut him off.

"It's not real."

What.

"What?"

"The ghosts. They aren't... It's not a person. It's a trick. It's a bad imitation of the person left behind to try to convince you not to revive them. They'll try different things, but it's all for the same goal. Try to ignore it until I've got this finished."

Dream words were confident and clinical. Like he was stating the obvious.

And- well- It wasn't like Tubbo thought he was lying. What he was saying made sense, in an abstract way.

"Why- How do you know that?"

It was kind of a stupid question. Silence ticked by, and since Tubbo was still facing the wall, he had no idea what Dream was thinking.

"I found out when I got the book."

That wasn't the whole truth, and they both knew it. Tubbo itched with the desire to learn more, he wanted to know, to understand. He almost couldn't restrain himself.

But Tubbo was trying. He'd figured out pretty quickly that Dream took poorly to being pressed for answers. So he nodded, and kept his questions to himself for the moment.

Silence again. It wasn't quite comfortable, but it was tolerable. There was the very faint and slow scratch of pen against paper offsetting it all.

Dream spoke after a few minutes.

"Is Niki going to be back soon? She was.... Meeting Ponk? Right?"

"Punz, actually. Uh, I think she'll be back in a few days? She was going to stop and catch up on a few things before coming back. I can ask Phil though. He'll know. Do you need to ask her something?"

There was a frustrated pause, and Tubbo knew it wasn't directed at him. Dream had some issues with keeping things straight these days. He wouldn't talk about what caused it, but it showed in the little details that slipped past him.

"Not exactly, it's not urgent, but... I'm almost done. Should only be a few more days. I'll need to be the one to burn it, but anyone can kill the ghost. I figured she'd be okay with doing it. Probably shouldn't be you or Techno at the very least. Someone will need to be at the prison to get Ranboo too."

Oh. Oh!

Tubbo couldn't contained himself. He whipped around in his excitement- thankful it seemed Dream had already closed the book. He flew out of his chair- he needed to move and think- Ranboo was going to be back!

"Really?!" Pointless, Dream wouldn't lie about this. "She wouldn't mind- I could do it, but I want to be there. When he's back. We can go ahead of time, maybe find where he actually died. Connor might know, maybe. I swear when we broke in the first time Techno found some bloodstains, so we might even know where he was!"

Brain racing, Tubbo starting making plans out loud. Everything he'd been praying for since he first saw that death message so many months ago.

Dream let him ramble without interrupting. One of his hands just moved to pet Michael's head when the toddler snuffled in his sleep. Oops. Tubbo quieted down, not wanting to wake Michael. One thing hadn't still changed, the boy still got extremely grouchy if he didn't get his afternoon nap. Nobody wanted that.

Soon enough, Ranboo would be back. He'd be home. Things weren't going to be like they were before, but they would be okay again. Different, but okay. Finally.

#c!tubbo #c!dream #michael_beloved #michael beloved #dsmp #dream smp #convict childcare au #sif speaks #sif answers #my headcanons #sif writes #anyways #this exists because Tubbo deserves something nice in one of my aus #and also because I wanted to discuss my hc that ghosts are Lies

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fruitoftheweek · 4 years ago

Text

Little Cherry Book:

Chapter 4:Showered in Sin

Chapter 1 Here / Chapter 2 Here / Chapter 3 Here

Hey guys! I'm sorry that it has taken so long for me to update this. I had an idea of what I was going to write but I had a super hectic week so I wasn't able to write this till now. In order to make up for it, I have given you a treat. A 6,502 word chapter. It kinda beat my ass but I had so much fun writing it. It's sweet, it's spicy, it's all the goodness you guys deserve. I was listening to Duvet by Boa while writing this and I think you should too for two reasons. One, it helps set the mood, but also oh my fucking god it's such a good song. Also, Boa is just a fucking great band. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and message me if you would like to be added to the tag list! Love you guys

Pairing: Spencer Reid X reader

Chapter Plot: After a game of drunk never have I ever after a long case, Morgan locks Spencer out of their shared room. Shenanigans ensue and you and Spencer share a couple of firsts.

Series TW: 18+, smut, degradation, piercing, choking, knife play, mommy/daddy kinks, spanking, exhibitionism, Will update as time goes on

Chapter TW: smut, slight mommy kink, having body piercings, choking, slight blood kink (not really, it's just hard to explain), Shared masturbation (male and female receiving), pleading, multiple orgasms, cumming in pants, shower sexiness, aftercare

Word Count: 6,502

Your deep cherry lipstick painted the white seal of the wine bottle you held in your hand as you laughed at something Elle said. Spencer couldn't help but let a small smile pass his lips as he took in your form, hot from the day's work, small strands of your hair sticking to your forehead, a dewy glow illuminating your rosy cheeks.

After a long week, they had found Carl Arnold before he had been able to kill the Dunken family and even coerced a confession out of him. With spirits running high, Elle had suggested some much-needed relaxation before taking off the next day. Since you were rooming alone, you volunteered to host in your room. Morgan had arrived at your hotel room with two bottles of some sort of liquor, one clear and one amber, JJ trailing in toe with your bottle of red wine you had asked for. You pulled out your little corkscrew with the face of an old man on it, knowing she hated his weird little face. You brought it with you on trips, just in case the occasion arose.

And it did arise as Elle suggested a drinking game. Hotch had retired early after calling Hailey to get an update on his very pregnant wife, while Gideon preferred the solitude of a good book late at night. The rest of you sat on the floor surrounded by drinks and snacks. With the supervision gone, it almost felt like a high school party with no parents. You all had all settled on a classic, never have I ever. "We haven't played this in a long time because we already know so much about each other, but it's fun when we have a newbie around," Morgan said giving you a cheeky smile and bumping your shoulder. Already pliable after the couple of drinks you had while Elle explained the game, you nodded before tipping your lips to the cusp of Spencer's ear. "I'll try not to make it too hard for you, pretty boy," you said. The small puffs of air that left your mouth made Spencer's hair stand on end and his feet curl.

He knew you were teasing him that night and he loved it. He decided to keep his knees tucked to his chest for the rest of the night as to not expose the predicament in his pants. He watched the way you lightly sucked on the wine bottle as you tipped it back, a thin river of cabernet leaking from the corner of your lips and trailing down your neck. Spencer wanted nothing more than to lean over and lap it off of you just to see how you would react, but he knew it was the drinks talking. Despite your earlier comment, it was quite obvious that you were targeting him as his head started to spin gently.

"Never have I ever had sex with someone much older than me," Garcia said through her video feed with a cheeky smirk. Derek had insisted on including her even though she wasn't physically present. She sat bundled up in a comfy blanket in her office with a mug of some sort of alcoholic beverage. "HEY! No targeting! Plus, I told you that in confidence at ladies night. How much is much older?" You said, swaying your bottle towards the computer set up on the floor."You know how much older I mean sweetheart." Garcia said with a giggle as you groaned and took a sip."How much older is much older?" Morgan said with a cocked eyebrow, somewhere between impressed and surprised." I was a college student, experimenting with my professor. Not like an old man, but he was 20 years older than me. Definitely not my style anymore though." You said with a grimace remembering him.

Spencer had learned a lot about your sex life during that game, but some part inside of him smirked, knowing that the rest of the team would never know you as he knew you, not unless they too had read your journal. It was the only thing keeping his head clear of the idea of you with anyone else. Not that you were with him in any capacity, but the idea still made him feel something in his stomach. Not the sweet butterflies that came with your smile, but something more like idiotic hornets dangerously bumping against the walls of his stomach.

Spencer hadn't even noticed the uproar of everyone else around the circle at your comment and the second revelation that Morgan had drunk too. He was too busy watching how you had shyly tucked your hair behind your ear, finally letting it down out of your clips for once. You were wearing your pajamas, just a tank top, slouchy sweater, and flannel pajama pants, but somehow you looked more radiant than ever. He had come back down to earth after hearing someone call his name."Y-Yes?" He sputtered out, realizing you had been trying to get his attention."It's Morgan's turn, pay attention." You said, gently smacking your hand down on his thigh.

If he was riled up before, he was unbelievably undone at the slight sting from where your palm had just been. Light enough that it wasn't noticeable, but hard enough that it erupted a Shockwave through his body, centered on the location of the contact. He bit back the whimper threatening to escape his lips as he turned towards Morgan, trying desperately to not watch you from the corner of his eye.

"Never have I been a virgin at 24," Morgan said, beaming in his direction. Spencer took a big gulp from his glass of whiskey."You always do that one, I don't know why you think it's so funny, you're just trying to get me to drink" he said abashedly. He looked over at you, nervous for your reaction, but you seemed unfazed. "Hey, that's a wonderful gift to have, there's something so special about virgins. Maybe it's the idea that everything is new, but I like it. I love virgins." You said, taking a sip from your bottle, gently swaying. You had given up on never have I ever and just decided to drink whenever you felt like it. Maybe it was because you were tipsy, maybe it was the warm flush that decorated Spencer's cheeks, maybe it was the way he was looking at you with sultry, half-lidded eyes. You couldn't tell, but something made you want to find an excuse for you two to be alone.

"Geese, we seemed to have caught a succubus tonight." Morgan quipped."A suck-you-what now?" You said, cocking an eyebrow at him. " A succubus, it's a demon or supernatural entity in folklore, in female form, that appears in dreams to seduce men, usually through sexual activity. According to religious traditions, repeated sexual activity with a succubus can cause poor physical or mental health, even death. In modern representations, a succubus is often depicted as a beautiful seductress or enchantress, rather than as demonic or frightening." Spencer shot out. "Wow, even when you're drunk, your big brain keeps chuggin' along," you said, sloppily ruffling his hair "A beautiful seductress or enchantress, huh?" That time it came out low, inaudible to the others, but it pierced Spencer like a knife."Do you think that's accurate bout me?" you asked, staring up into his eyes, closer than you have been before. Spencer let a cartoonish gulping noise escape his lips as he held back his urge to lean into your touch.

"Ah, it's my turn," you said, leaning back into your spot in the circle and sadly, away from Spencer." Never have I ever done something naughty at our work," you said, looking straight at Spencer "I'll know if you're lying, I can sniff out a liar from a mile away," your cocky smirk leaking out of your mouth. Everyone except you and JJ took a shot."Wow, really you guys? Even you Spence? " JJ said in disbelief, looking around the circle."Never have I ever, my ass" Spencer mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, looking over at you, thinking about your pantieless escapades.

"Look at that, Doctor Reid, you need another drink, let me go fix you one," You said as you grabbed his glass in one hand, leaning and gripping hard into his shoulder with the other. It wasn't seen by the others, but between that and the fiery look in your eyes, it sent an obvious message,' keep your mouth shut or I'll shut it for you.' You used him as leverage to get up, nearly pushing him over as you gracefully stumbled to the hotel fridge. He knew what you meant, but he didn't care, your grip on him went straight into his imagination as he envisioned what that grip would feel like in other places. He kind of wanted to push his luck, just so he could see what he had in store.

And push it he did as you handed him the glass, reminding him that it was indeed his turn to play never have I ever. "Never have I ever slept with my professor," He said, obviously targeting you with a glint of mischief in his eyes."Oh yeah, well never have I ever been a virgin at 24." You said, swaying as you sat down."Morgan already said that, dummy. Never have I ever worn stupid dark red lipstick" He retorted, equally as drunk as you. At this point everyone else had zoned you two out and were focused on other things, refreshing their drinks, counting the ceiling tiles, humming a sloppy rendition of My My Miss American Pie, or in Penelope's case, all three."Yeah, well never have I ever been a complete and utter mommas boy!" You continued, the statement turning Spencer beet red. You watched him clench and unclench his hands, you had obviously struck a nerve. Just as you were about to apologize, he cut you off. "Never have I ever had nipple piercings!" He shouted, pointing at your chest, now drawing attention to the obvious balls framing your nipples that you had once been covered by your long-forgotten sweater.

As he said it, it felt like the world went in slow motion. You could see the instant regret on his face as you dropped your bottle in surprise. It had landed on Spencers discarded whiskey glass and both shattered, wine and whiskey mixing with glass to create a slurry on the ground between them. "Fuck! You Guys!" Morgan said, "You got it all over my clothes." "Me too," Echoed Elle as they both stood up in their soaked clothes. "I think that calls it a night." JJ said, closing the laptop on the image of an already sleeping Garcia." Bye you guys, sleep well," you called after them as you and Spencer rushed around looking for towels to clean up the alcohol with.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" Spencer cried as you dropped the last of the glass in the garbage can. As you rounded the corner, you saw Spencer pulling a rather large shard of glass that you must have missed out of his thumb, blood pooling at the tip. Without thinking, you crouched down and sucked his thumb into your mouth." A-ah! What... What are you doing!?" Spencer asked breathlessly, looking down at you with a deep hunger in his eyes. You pop off his thumb and squeeze it at the base, slowing the blood flow."Shut up," You said," This helps slow the bleeding. The sucking applies pressure. My mom used to do this for me... And no, do not psychoanalyze that." You said, wrapping your mouth around his finger, sucking to provide some pressure to slow the blood flow. You could taste the iron in your mouth, but you didn't mind, knowing you were helping your friend.

You were helping alright, helping in more ways than you would ever understand. "Yeah, like I'm the only one here with mommy issues," he said distractedly, too busy surveying your lips wrapped around him. You slapped your hand down on his thigh once more, eliciting a small whimper from him. He couldn't help it, you were a sight of beauty, you always were, but looking down on you right then, Spencer wanted to bottle that moment forever. The tops of your breasts peeking out from the top of your tank top, your eyes filled with a hazy glow, looking up at him to make sure he was ok, and your cheeks hollowing out around his thumb as you delicately sucked on his wound. It was as close as Spencer had ever gotten to anything sexual. He could feel your tongue swirling around the cut, lapping up the last couple drops of blood. He couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if it was another appendage and not his thumb. You sucked on his thumb one last time, harder than you had previously, and before he even knew what he was doing, his hips bucked up, rubbing his hard cock against his pajama pants, finally relieving his mounting orgasm.

You let go of his finger with a pop as your tongue trailed off of the underside of his thumb. Spencer looked anywhere but you, as a wet patch formed through his thin underwear and pajama pants. He hurried to cover it with his sweater, shooting up from his seated position."Um, Um, I'm g-gonna go shower and go to bed." He said, hurriedly scurrying over to where he had left his room key." Sorry partner, I saw Morgan accidentally grab both of your keys on the way out. He's probably asleep by now." You said languidly, leaning back to take in the sight of the soft boy in front of you. Totally flushed with heat, small beads of sweat peppering his forehead, his hands twiddling suspiciously into his sweater in an attempt to conceal crotch, trying and failing miserably to hide his rapidly cooling cum.

He whined a little, lighting a fire in you. He looked so thoroughly fucked out, and all you had done was suck his finger. You knew that you just had to play with him some more. "You know, you can use my shower, doctor." You said, and he let out a small sigh of relief, heading towards the bathroom. "There is one condition, though," You smirked coyly as he halted his motions, his body facing away from you. It was almost as if he was ready to run away at any moment. You walked over to him, slowly, taking your time to tease him. The silence hung heavy in the air as you looked up into his eyes questioningly, waiting for him to ask. "Wh-what is the condition." He said, unable to return your gaze, hands fisted in the hem of his sweater, pulling it down even further. You smirked, dipping your hands up and under his sweater, nearly brushing his spent cock before gently placing them on his bare stomach, just above his waistband. He sucked in a tight breath as you gently swirled your fingers in the short hair that lead from his belly button down to happier places." Before I ask, do you know about the color scale?" you said, fingers smoothing out over his little stomach." Um, k-kinda?" He said, heat flushing his cheeks."Green means good keep going, yellow means slow down, and red means stop right now, ok?" You said, looking up at him as he nods."Come on pretty boy, I need verbal confirmation. I need to know that you understand, got it." You said with a little pinch to his tummy. "Y-Yes, I understand!" He blurted out, standing stiff as a board." Good boy. Now, for my condition. You can shower if you show me what you're hiding." You said, leaning close enough that if Spencer breathed, your chests would meet each other. "What color, Spencer?" you said, languidly drawing lines up and down his torso with your nails."G-Green, Very green." He sputtered out, finally meeting your eyes."That's what I like to hear, sweet boy." You said before your fingers danced below his waistline, now somewhat crusty from his cum."W-wait!" He says, just as you were about to take him in your hand. You instantly stopped and looked up at him gently."We can stop here baby, it's not a problem." You said, beginning to remove your hand from his pants. He grabbed your hand through his pants, stopping your movement."It-It's not that. I don't want to stop, I just want... well..." He said and looked down shyly. "What do you want baby, anything," You smiled up at him. "Um, I haven't had my first kiss yet and I kinda... Well... I kinda..." He said, shuffling his feet, face beet red. Your eyebrows shot up quickly in surprise before letting out a gentle smile."Do you want a kiss, pretty boy?" You said, gently brushing the hair out of his face. He nodded, and you grabbed his chin, bringing him close. "Use your words, pretty boy. What do you want?" You whispered, breath gently ghosting Spencer's lips as he took you in up close. He could see every little pore and dimple of your skin and every color hidden in the depth of your eyes and he knew he needed to have you.

He shakily leaned forward, lips gently meeting yours, so light that if you hadn't seen his actions, you wouldn't have even known if you had touched. You moved your hand down to his throat, giving a light squeeze."Come on genius, use your words," you said as he whimpered. "Please, can I kiss you, please, please?" He begged, leaning into your touch, pleading for you to squeeze again. His efforts shoot straight to your heart. You indulged him in a kiss, not as spicy as the situation would permit, more of a sweet heat. He came in too hot and heavy at first, but you kissed him languidly, gently stroking his cheek to get him in the rhythm. His arms were straight out at his sides, hands clenched as if he was willing every muscle in his body to not touch you.

You let out a small laugh as you melted into his kiss, soft, puffy lips dancing across yours. "You know you can touch me," You said, pulling back, smiling at the smear of your lipstick, now staining his lips, and the endearing puppy dog eyes he was giving you. "Where can I touch you?" He whispered out as if he were telling a secret. "Wherever you want, baby. Wherever your heart desires." You replied, bringing your arms up to wrap loosely around his neck, pulling your bodies closer. He was as stiff as a board as his hands flitted around trying to find a good place to land. He finally settled on weaving his arms around your waist and up to cradle your neck, gently carding his fingers through the hair that fell at the nape of your neck. There was something so sweet in the way he cradled your body with feather-light touches as if you would disappear like smoke if he lingered too long. You reveled in the feeling of you two pressed together, slightly uncomfortable at the stiff material of his pajama pants on your stomach.

"Hey sweetheart," You said, pulling away as he chased after your lips, "I'm feeling kinda sweaty from the day, would you like to join me in the shower? What color?" "G-green, yes please." He said, tentatively pressing a kiss to your collarbone, exposed as the strap of your tank top had fallen down. You unwound from him, taking his hand delicately in your own, instantly missing the warmth his body provided.

You lead him into the bathroom, carefully stepping over the wine-soaked towels discarded on the floor before shutting the door and turning to face him. "I don't want to take this too fast for you because I know it's all very new so always tell me how you are feeling and if everything is ok. I want this to be good for you baby, ok?" You said, squeezing his hand that was still intertwined with yours. "Ok, th-thank you," He said shyly.

"Now, what do you want to do first? You're probably pretty uncomfortable in those pants, do you want me to take them off you?" You said, hooking one of your fingers into his waistband, pulling on in slightly creating a much-needed separation between his sticky cock and his uncomfortable pants."Y-Yes please" He said as you turned on the shower, allowing it to warm up in preparation for cleaning him off before turning back to him. You gently grabbed the hem of his sweater and pulled it over his head, leaving him shirtless in front of you.

Lean muscles were hidden under a layer of peachy soft skin highlighting the gentle trail of dark curly hair leading from his belly button down past his pants. His arms curled around himself as he watched your eyes carefully, ready for some sort of judgment. "I know I'm not really that s-strong or anything but I can work on it-" You cut him off with a gentle kiss right above his belly button, startling him. You looked up sweetly into his eyes and gave him a soft smile, saying "You are so beautiful, Spencer. Morgan calls you pretty boy, but he truly has no idea. I would have you no other way than you are right now."

You gently peppered his chest with feather-light kisses, making him blush. He finally understood why people liked hickeys because as you trailed down his chest, the little wine red lipstick you had left on your lips left marks trailing down his chest. Some part of him wished they were permanent, showing off to all that could see, and they would know exactly who he belonged to. You dipped your hand into his waistband, asking, "What color?" "Green, very green," he choked out as your breath ghosted across his abdomen. You looked so beautiful, kneeled on the floor in front of him, taking care of him so gently and treating him so sweetly that he could feel his cock begin to harden again.

You looked up into his eyes as you pulled his pants down. He let out a soft sigh of relief as he was uncaged from his unfortunate trouser situation. His cock flipped down out of his pants, nearly smacking you in the forehead as you looked up at it in awe. Even though it was only semi-hard, it was bigger than any you had ever seen before. Spencer looked down at you shyly "it's not that much, I-I know but I've been researching techniques to make up for it in order to give sufficient pleasure for you- I mean for whatever partners I may have, not that I am saying that I won't please you, I dream of pleasuring you! ... I'm digging myself a hole aren't I."He rambled, rubbing the back of his neck worriedly. "Spencer, you are huge. Way more than I have ever had before. See?" You said, standing up, gently lifting his cock in your hand, measuring it against your stomach.

Maybe Spencer hadn't noticed because it was proportionate to his body and his big hands, but being held in your petite hands and measured against your stomach, he finally did see how much he would fill you up. The tip of his dick just barely reached past the gems that decorated your belly button piercing. "W-Woah." He said growing harder at the thought of pushing so deep into you. He looked up to your face, which was preoccupied with looking down at how far he would reach up in you.

Tearing your eyes away from him and up to his own, you flushed, knowing that he had caught you staring. "What would you like me to do next?" You spoke softly. Despite being the only two in the room, you two both talked in hushed tones, worrying that anything more than that would burst the delicate bubble you two had created. "Can we match?" He said, and you instantly understood him, despite the odd vernacular. You began to slip off your shirt, but he stopped you with an arm on your shoulder. "C-Can I do it?" He said shyly. "Of course, pretty baby," you barely get out before he drifted his hands under your tank.

He slowly lifted your top over your head as he took in the soft smooth feeling of your skin against his, goosebumps pricking up wherever his fingers trailed. You stood in front of him, shirtless as he took in your form. He had imagined what your breasts would look like. Nipples always hard due to your piercings, what your jewelry would look like, but nothing could prepare him for the glimmering moonstone gems that adorned your nipples and navel. Everything matched exactly, including the delicate necklace you wore around your neck.

The only thing he liked more than the perfection of your body was the features that made you, you. Some might call them imperfections, but to Spencer, all he could see in you was beauty. The gentle bruises on your skin from tangles with unsubs, the soft stretch marks that adorned your hips like little valleys and winding rivers, the slight blemishes, and hairs. He loved it because you were the embodiment of the confidence he wished for in himself. While he was always nervous about his body and how others perceived him, you loved yourself for exactly who you were, and you loved him for exactly who he was.

He pulled down your pants, gently following the twist and turn of the stretch marks as they winded down your hips, making sure to kneel down to pull them all the way off of you as you delicately stepped out, gently grabbing onto his hair to keep your balance as you swayed. He moaned softly at the gentle tug of your fingers while he stared up at you in awe. You took his hand in yours, coaxing him to stand.

You both stood there, taking in each other's forms for a moment, hands still connected as if by a thread at the pinky before you spoke. "We shouldn't waste water. Let me clean you off, sweetheart." He nodded before following after you into the gentle spray of the shower, steam now filling the room. He marveled at the way that the water droplets cascaded down your body, gently running down your curves. "Come here," you said, pulling him into a gentle embrace under the hot water.

Your two bodies pressed gently together, and Spencer couldn't help but think that you were molded for each other. Not in the way that a sculptor may stick two unmatched pieces of clay together with slip, more like one rock that had been split by the earth finally returning together. Something about your touch felt like home as you gently cradled him under the water.

He was so enthralled in your being that he didn't notice you gently scrubbing him with a washcloth until the scent of your body wash permeated the air. You gently scrubbed his back, washing off the sweat of the day and replacing it with you. He melted into you as your hands reached up, lathering his hair with shampoo. He wasn't sure if it was because he realized you should probably be getting washed too or because he desperately wanted to ride his hands along the planes of your body, but he decided to lather up his hands and wash you as well. "You are such a good boy. Thank you for cleaning me up" You said, resting your head gently on his chest, softly swirling the soap around his back, now finished scrubbing all you could from that angle, waiting to turn him around.

He moved carefully, avoiding your butt, still too nervous to touch. "Make sure you get everything, sweet boy. I like to be clean when I go to bed." You said, gently grabbing his hand and pulling it down to cup your butt. He inhales a sharp breath as he indulged in a gentle squeeze, continuing to wash you. He washed your back but his hands would occasionally drift down to your ass, growing more confident as he unknowingly rocked into you slightly with every squeeze, letting out soft keening noises.

You peeled yourself off of him as he rutted into the air, whining at the loss of friction. "Slow down, naughty boy. Bad boys don't get to touch. Are you a bad boy?" you asked as you placed a finger on the tip of his cock, swirling it in the precum pooling there despite the water's efforts to wash it off. "No, no! I'm a good boy! You're just so pretty, and you feel so good, and you smell so nice, and I wanna touch you, and I want you to touch me, please." He blurted out, looking at you with hungry eyes, begging for more friction. "Where do you want to touch me baby?" you asked as his eyes raked over your body, taking in all of his options. "I want to touch your boobies and your- your-" "My what? You can say it, naughty boy." You cut him off in his stammering. "Your pussy, I want to touch your pussy." He said, the hot water spreading the blush from his cheeks down his chest, tingeing his cock with a pretty pink hue. "What naughty words from such a pretty boy. You can touch-" he cut you off, lunging towards your body before you grabbed him by the throat, squeezing experimentally. Not too hard, not too soft. He moaned, and you felt the vibrations traveling up your hands."Let me finish what I was saying. Naughty boys don't get to touch. They get spanked." You said as he mewled." What I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted was that you can touch, AFTER I wash you and after you finish washing me. Only after, you got it?" you said, squeezing a little tighter. "Y-yes." he croaked out. "Good boy," you replied.

You washed out the shampoo in his hair, replacing it with conditioner as he did the same for you. You squirted more soap onto your washcloth, preparing to test him. You took the washcloth in your hand, slowly working over his legs, arms, and chest, teasingly brushing over his overspent cock before returning to cleaning him. He washed you thoroughly, taking care to wash your legs before making sure your stomach and belly button piercing were thoroughly cleaned. Finally, he reached up to wash the leftover makeup off of your face. He touched you like a porcelain doll, worried that you would crack under even the slightest pressure, making you giggle. He flinched, thinking he hurt you, but you grabbed his face in your hands, delivering him a kiss that covered his face in soap.

You both stood there, laughing for a second, relishing the moment before you let out a shy smile. "You can touch my chest now, but make sure you clean my piercings carefully." He looked down at your chest, and now that he'd been given permission, he didn't really know what to do. You could see the puzzled look on his face so you grabbed one of his soapy hands in yours and brought it to your breast. He squeezed experimentally, and you let out a gentle moan. You had been keeping in your arousal to draw out his teasing, but you couldn't hold yourself back as you felt his large hands grasp around your chest and roll your nipple in his fingers.

There was a sweet dichotomy in the harshness of his grasp on your boob, coupled with the gentle twist of your nipple. It was as if he was worried to hurt your piercings, so he made up for it in his grasp. You brought the washcloth down to his cock, hard against his stomach, and began to work him. He whined at the harsh material. "I need to clean you up, baby. You still have a cummy cock. If you beg hard enough when I'm done, I will touch you." You said into his ear as he rested his head on your shoulder.

He was overstimulated, and you could tell, so you decided you wouldn't take as long as you wanted to tease him. But you would still draw it out for your own pleasure. He was bucking and mewling into you as you roughly got him off. It shot you straight to your core, the heat from the shower mixed with his grasp on you, physically and visually, had you closer than you wanted, and deep down you just wanted him to touch you.

When you deemed him clean enough you let the rag drop to the floor. "Beg" you moaned out. "Please, please touch me, I want your hand on me, that's all I want." He whined, bucking into the air. You took pity on him, grasping him with your soap-covered hand. He hissed as your soft touch replaced the rough rag and you could tell he was close. "Touch me, Spencer." You said and his hand shot to your core. His tentative moves giving way to a natural confidence. As he slipped a hand between your folds he could feel you dripping with desire. "O-Oh my god," was all he could stammer out before sinking two of his fingers into your depths, thumb circling your clit. You knew his fingers were long, and you had even fantasized about this exact moment, but nothing could prepare you for his actual length. He had said he did research but that was proven by how quickly he found your g spot and clit. You doubled over in pleasure as his fingers thoroughly fucked you out.

"Spencer, I'm so close, baby. Be a good boy and make me cum." You said, slumping against his shoulder, rubbing yourself against his hand. "Mommy, I'm cumming." He said, looking into your eyes as his body shuttered. His words ricochetted around in your brain, sending you over the edge as you cum all down his hand. You bit into his shoulder to muffle your scream, just as he matched you, cumming down your hand.

You came down from your high as Spencer nearly collapsed onto you. You took extra care in making sure he was all clean before helping him out of the shower and into a towel. He leaned against you the whole time as you got him ready for bed. You forced him to brush his teeth before dragging him to bed.

He sat at the edge, eyes bleary with sleep, taking in the events of the day. You sat behind him, gently toweling off his hair before brushing it and putting lotion on his body. He leaned into your touch, appreciating being cared for, feeling as if everything had been a dream. "C-Can I sleep here? I mean Morgan locked me out and I don't have pants and-" You cut him off with a gentle kiss."Of course, sweetheart, do you want to cuddle? It's ok if you don't or if you want this to be a one-time thing, it's all up to you, baby." You said, gently sweeping his hair out of his face as he looked up with eyes the size of dinner plates. "We can do this more than once? You'll let me? For real?" He asked. "Only if you want to sweetheart. This is all about you." You said, giving him a small smile tinged with a slight sadness. "That's not very fair, I want it to be about you too. What do you want?"

The question knocked you off guard. You're not used to people asking what you want. Usually, people just take and give none in return. The fact that Spencer Reid, your adorable virgin coworker was asking you what you wanted with such a sincere look, caused tears to prick into your eyes. "No one has asked me that in a long time," you smiled, "I would love to do this, and more again with you Spencer. Whenever you want." He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down so you were lying next to each other on the bed. "Whenever we want" He corrected, cuddling into you.

You surveyed the bite make you left on his shoulder, running your hand over it. "Sorry for marking you up, I didn't mean to hurt you." You said softly as he blushed. "I-I was actually wondering... well... could you maybe give me a hickey? I like that you marked me." He said. You obliged him, giving him long kisses and sucks, gradually working up your force until a large purple bruise had formed on his collar bone. He was gently moaning the whole time, but you didn't want to work him up again as he had already cum twice that night and you didn't think he could handle more. He looked down at it as you pulled away, and you could see a question lingering on his mind.

"What's up?" you asked, smoothing his hair with your hand. "You said you hadn't been asked what you want in a long time, and I was wondering, well... who gave you your piercings?" he asked tentatively and you laughed." You have been reading my book too much, how many chapters have you read?" You said and he looked up at you surprised."You knew? and... well... only 3 chapters. I didn't want to pry into your private life." He said. "You just pried enough to know I want to get pierced by someone?" You asked raising an eyebrow. Before he could get an excuse out, you cut him off. "Well for a genius, you obviously didn't read it that carefully. I said I WOULD like to be pierced during sex, meaning I have not before. These are just standard piercings from a piercing shop, not a big deal, I just like the way they look." You said and he let out a sigh of relief. "Why? d'you get jealous?" you questioned him. He looked down and nodded shyly.

"I can be a lot of firsts for you but if you play your cards right, you can be a lot of firsts for me too. You already gave me a first tonight. You called me mommy. No one's done that before but it was really hot. I liked it a lot." You said matter of factly. "But that is a conversation for another day. It is 2 am and we need to be on a flight at 7:30, so let's get some sleep." You said, turning off the lights and cuddling up close to him. In a matter of seconds, you both were asleep, tangled into each other's arms, both of you feeling, for once, safe and sound.

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

Chapter 1 Here / Chapter 2 Here / Chapter 3 Here

Well wasn't that a doozy. I had so much fun writing that and I think it paid off for sure. Shoot me a message if you want to be added to my beloved tag list, speaking of which.

@spencer-reids-slut @ya-triedit @reidstoychest @flipperpenguins @thatsonezesty13 @jbbarnes-loki @big-galaxy-chaos

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #sub spencer #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #sub!spencer #pervspence #pervespencer #perve spencer reid #perv spencer reid

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y0itsbri · 4 years ago

Text

gallavich week 2021 - day 3 - travel au as always inspo from @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

Stuck with You

Words: 5.5k

Summary: A winter storm strands a desperate-to-return-to-Chicago Ian at the airport with no car. A dark-haired mysterious man in an expensive-looking leather jacket and sunglasses seems to be his only hope. Ian grows suspicious of the man's true intentions as they embark on their road trip with some funky excursions. The two men find what need they most in each other.

"Fiona, I'm literally at the gate. I'm about to board now!" Ian was lying straight out of his ass as he was running through the bustling airport, dragging his bag as fast as the bent-as-all-hell wheels on the suitcase would allow him. He had not, in fact, woken up to his first alarm... or second. Maybe he was running extremely late despite Fiona's near-constant nagging to get there early in case something happens again.

Ian mumbled a quiet "Fuck" as his suitcase's wheel locked up again. He did not have time for this. His huffed cursing was apparently heard by Fiona's supersonic hearing. A woman in white capris glared his way. Okay, maybe it wasn't that quiet.

"Ian!" Fiona's voice rang through his phone. She sounded frantic and exhausted. She had every right to be, but Ian was not in the mood for an early morning guilt trip. "What happened? And you better stop fuckin' lying to me and get your ass-"

"Fi, I gotta go, love you, talk to you later, promise," he mumbled all the formalities as genuinely as he could muster before he hung up. He had tuned his attention into his surroundings and noticed an absurd about of people hovered around the rent-a-car station while the airport gates nearly empty, except for the occasional airport employees trying to reason with irritated passengers.

Sure enough, something did happen, as Fiona would have happily predicted. There was a massive winter storm and all flights had been delayed until further notice. Ian idly walked to his gate just to make sure he wasn't going to miss his plane like he had the day before. The gate was a fuckin' ghost town besides one man in an expensive-looking studded leather jacket and shiny dark hair to match. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of purple sunglasses, despite the fact that they were currently indoors.

Ian instinctively stepped closer to the man to maybe strike up a conversation. It wasn't something he was so fond of doing, but if he was trapped at an airport, he might as well make friends. Anything to distract his anxious thoughts about not making it back to Chicago in time for his interview. He couldn't even look at his phone, knowing Fiona was probably blowing it up right now about how he has to get his shit together. He knows.

In the midst of his inner debate, Ian oh-so-gracefully tripped over a chair -- the wheels of his suitcase coming to a halt, causing the bag to loudly clang against a nearby pole.

The man jumped up with a startle, yanking off his glasses and swiftly reaching into his boot and pulling out a small knife. He slowly took in the fact that there was no threat -- just a giant blushing ginger wincing at the knife pointed his direction.

The man sighed and tucked his knife away, "Shit, I thought you were trying to rob me or something."

Ian eyed a small black backpack tucked behind the man's legs. That bag was sleek and tiny compared to Ian's nightmare of a bag.

"Ain't look like you got much to steal," Ian joked, immediately regretting his decision to be witty after literally just being held at knifepoint. Maybe the mysterious man would appreciate his charm.

The man frowned. Okay, maybe Ian's humor wasn't for everyone.

"And how did you get that knife through security?" Ian asked in attempt to ease the tension a bit.

"None of your damn business." The man retorted shortly, but his eyes lingered over Ian for a moment longer, amused.

"Right." Ian replied after a moment. That was fair. He was a stranger, after all. But there was something about this man that was so intriguing. The man stood nearly half a foot shorter than Ian and clearly had the personality to make up for it. Ian was most definitely not in the mood to almost get stabbed again so he decided to lay off the talking, making an obvious show of adverting his gaze from the gorgeous leather-clad man in front of him.

"Uh.. hey," the man spoke up again as he looked around the terminal. "Did I miss the flight or did everyone just get abducted by aliens or some shit?"

Ian was amused at the aliens bit. Who even was this guy?

"It looks like all flights are delayed. Some freak super-storm coming in, don't want any crashes or anything."

"Buncha pussies," the dark-haired man grumbled as he stood up.

"Where are you going?" Shut up, Ian, shut up shut up shut up.

"Rent-a-car? Is that okay with you?" The guy pulled his bag over his shoulder, but turned his gaze back to Ian.

"Uh, yeah, I mean -- sorry, never mind." Nice going, Ian.

"I'm just busting your balls, man. Just gotta get back to Chicago before the weekend. Can't just sit around like a little bitch and wait for a storm to pass like some people." The enigmatic man teased him.

Ian rolled his eyes, but followed him like a lost puppy. "You're not the only one. I have an interview in Chicago in two days and I really can't miss it." Ian pointed back towards the rent-a-car area when the man didn't question him any further. "Don't think you'll have much luck with that, by the way. They looked almost sold outta cars when I walked past here earlier."

"So you walked past the rent-a-car instead of actually getting one? Real smart, Stumbles."

Ian cringed at the nickname. So much for first impressions. The man pulled out his phone from the tight pocket of his pants and stopped abruptly, Ian almost losing his balance to keep from stumbling into the guy. Again. Ian was literally swept up off his feet by this dude. He had to get himself in control before he lost what remained of his dignity.

"Ey' Dimitri, I need a car." The guy said into the phone. Ian awkwardly waited around. It wasn't like they made any plans of travelling together but they were in the middle of a conversation, he couldn't just leave. It wouldn't be polite. Not that much about this guy was polite to begin with. But they had something going at least. The phone conversation got heated very quickly. Now Ian could very clearly see why he was the type of person to have a knife in arm's reach at any given notice.

"I know you have fuckin' plenty. I'll drop it off next time I see Yevgeny, you know I'm good for it. I gotta job this weekend- It is your fuckin' business when your bitch of a wife- Oh c'mon, you can admit she's a bit of a bitch. Whatever- Or do you wanna tell Svetlana that your incompetent ass is the reason why she ain't getting her payment- or do you plan on paying for that shit? Didn't think so. Black cat. Red one."

There was definitely a lot to unpack and as curious as Ian was, he was definitely not gonna ask... yet.

"Red, you comin'?" The dark-haired man called over his shoulder as he started heading towards the airport's exit.

"Me?" Way to play it cool, Ian.

"No. The other giant ginger standing behind you. Yes, you."

"My name's Ian, by the way."

"Don't care."

"Where are we going?"

"Chicago."

Together but not together, they waited for... Dimitri, maybe? The shorter man beside Ian was tapping around on his phone and hadn't said a word about their plans beyond the simple 'Chicago.'

Right as Ian got the nerve to ask, a sleek black jaguar came to a halt on the street in front of them. Ian only knew a bit about cars because his brother liked fixing them up -- and man, was this a sick car. Lip would be jealous. Ian fought the urge to take a photo of the car -- unsure what the boundaries were in situations like this.

Ian's mystery man sauntered over to the driver's seat, exchanging a loaded handshake before switching places with the driver, who was apparently not Dimitri.

The passenger side window rolled down, revealing a bright red interior. "Coming, princess?"

Ian placed his suitcase in the backseat before hopping in the front himself.

"Do I ever get to know your name, princess?" Ian teased back. But he was genuinely curious.

The guy smirked, "Buckle up. I ain't slowing down for anything." And true to his word, they sped out of the parking lot, earning a few well-deserved horns from cars that they had cut off. Ian cringed.

Ian waited until they were on the interstate to speak again, not wanting to be the cause for an accident with this guy's hectic driving and the snow lightly falling on the road in front of them. Maybe he shouldn't be getting into cars with mysterious strangers. Maybe he should have thought of that before he did, in fact, get into a car with a mysterious stranger.

Ian decided to try again, "Ya know, if you don't tell me your name, I'm just going to start calling you something real stupid, like Bob or Cookie or Raven."

"Raven is actually kinda badass." The man replied, not taking his eyes off the road, but the side of his mouth quirking upward.

This guy was impossible, "Ugh."

"Ya know, you're kind of annoying for a passenger who should be grateful that I'm saving your ass. I could dump you on the side of the road, make you hitch hike all the way to Chicago or wherever the hell you end up. Probably some real weirdos out there wanting to pick up a pretty boy like you."

"Didn't ask to be saved." Ian blushed despite his best efforts to play it cool.

"No? So you were just following me all around the airport, why?" He glanced at Ian this time.

Yeah, he had a point. "Like I said, I got an interview I can't miss. My sister set it up for me and she would actually have my ass if I fucked this up. I'm talking like this-is-the-final-straw." Ian sighed, running his hands up and down his face.

"Hmm. You'll make it. I'm a good driver." He smirked. He lifted his hand off the wheel as if he were about to touch Ian's shoulder or something, but decided against it at the last second.

"Good and fast are not equivalent." Ian's breath hitched.

"Says you." The guy drummed his fingers.

"Says most people. And probably the cops." Ian was not about to spend a night in the slammer.

"Fuck the cops." He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah."

The conversation died down and a rock ballad lulled over the car's exquisite sound system. Damn, this was a nice car.

"Mickey." The guy murmured, barely audible over the bass.

"What?" Like the mouse?

"My name's Mickey, by the way." He glanced over at Ian.

Oh. "Kinda badass." Ian returned with eye contact a smirk.

Mickey smiled at the road ahead of them.

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty." Mickey called out from the driver's seat, patting Ian's shoulder. Ian could have sworn Mickey's hand lingered a bit longer than necessary, but maybe he was just reading into the interaction.

Ian must have fallen asleep sometime during the drive, because now they were parking in the parking lot of a diner. Red neon lights highlighted the exterior, giving the place a sultry vibe. Odd vibe for an off-the-road diner, but Ian supposed it could be weirder.

Mickey hopped out of the car and shoved his hands into the pocket in his leather jacket, searching for something.

After a moment, Ian slowly stretched his legs out as he crawled out of the car and found Mickey smoking a cigarette while leaning against the hood of the car. It was picture perfect. Mickey hadn't noticed him emerge yet, so Ian decided to give into his urges as he snapped a picture of the beautiful man in front of him -- all black shadows and glowing red.

Ian closed the car door and Mickey stubbed out his cigarette and led them inside. "Usual table," he said to the hostess, who led them to a table set for two towards the back of the establishment.

Yeah, this was weird. Who the fuck had a 'usual table' at a joint off the highway in the middle of nowhere?

Inside hung the heads of exotic animals that Ian hoped were fake. Once they were sat across from each other, Mickey ordered a short stack of pancakes and Ian ordered a hamburger and fries -- the first thing he saw on the menu.

"So, brunch and tigers? What is this place?" Ian mused, curiosity and now suspicion overtaking him.

"Cool, huh? Got connections." Mickey went back to rearranging the condiments and sugars on their table.

"Mhm." Ian was skeptical, but didn't want to pry. He seemed to be on this guy's good side for now.

Ian spent the better part of their stay just taking in everything around them. The walls were lined with playing cards, posters from bands he's never heard of, bizarre news articles, lights swung and tacked up with a casual precision, literal jewelry and crowns under display cases, and he could've sworn there was sparkles mixed into the red paint covering the walls. It was like a goblin's cave or something.

Occasionally, he would look up at Mickey, who would look away almost instantly -- like he'd been caught in the middle of something. Planning something? Ian couldn't tell if Mickey's cheeks were actually blushing red or if it was just the lighting. Probably for the best because Ian blushed like a motherfucker whenever he held Mickey's eyes for too long.

Luckily, the waitress brought over their food before Ian could say something stupid. Ian's hamburger and fries were places in a classic red boat with black and white checkered paper. The burger was massive and had a flamingo pick placed in the center of it. Mickey's pancakes were covered in bananas, blueberries, and powdered sugar. The waitress also set down a glass elephant bottle filled with, what looked like, maple syrup. The waitress just smiled at them and walked away without another word. This place was strange. And Ian couldn't shake that feeling.

About halfway through eating, Ian had enough of the odd vibes and promptly excused himself to go to the bathroom. He had to get out of here, forgo his luggage in the fancy ass car. He didn't care if he'd have to hitch hike at this point. He washed his hands in the bathroom sink, planning when to make his escape, when the door swung open.

"Ian." Mickey looked genuinely concerned. No stupid nickname. Ian. "What's wrong, man? You looked pretty sick back there. Is it food poisoning? I'll give Anakin a fuckin' piece of my mind if he didn't cook that fuckin' burger. He knows better than to fuck with me." He rattled off.

Ian felt flighty and tried to take off during Mickey's rage-induced ramble but an arm gripped his bicep, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey, Ian, look at me." That was the problem. Ian couldn't stop looking at him. He would probably do anything he asked. And that was fucking dangerous. He was a stranger with connections. That couldn't lead to anything good.

Ian finally made eye contact and the grip on his arm loosened, gently sliding towards his wrist before falling back to Mickey's side.

"Promise me you won't kill me." Ian blurted out.

Mickey's eyebrows nearly flew off his face, "Kill you? Where the fuck is this coming from? You think I hate you or something?"

"Well, maybe, I don't know. This is weird."

"Maybe." Mickey paused, actually making an effort to see this whole strange situation from Ian's perspective. "But I like weird."

Ian stayed silent.

"I promise I'm not going to kill you. I promise that I'm going to get you back to Chicago for your interview. I promise we're all good, okay?"

The tension in Ian's shoulder's visibly relaxed and he released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. But that confession still doesn't explain this weird excursion.

"Why does everyone here know you?" Ian finally asked, swallowing his nerves.

This was not a conversation for the men's bathroom, but here they were anyways.

Mickey looked a bit embarrassed. "Used to live a few towns over with my ex-wife-"

"Ex-wife?" Ian nearly choked.

"Svetlana. Fuckin' disaster. But I used to come here with my son, Yev, on special occasions when his mom was out. He always loved it -- thought he was the king or some shit."

"Oh."

"Don't see the kid as much anymore, but this place still has the best fuckin' pancakes so we go when we can."

"So this isn't a sting operation to kidnap me?"

Mickey rolled his eyes, "You're an idiot. I actually happen to like you."

"Yeah, me too."

"So glad you like yourself, champ."

"Oh, fuck me." Ian groaned.

"Maybe later." Mickey smiled too sweetly for someone who had just insinuated what they had.

They returned to their table, finishing off what they could. Mickey had insisted he pay for both of their meals -- reparation for nearly giving Ian a heart attack and fleeing off to fucking Mexico or something. The waitress collected their tab and walked away with a wink, "Have fun tonight, boys."

"See ya 'round, Geneva." Mickey called, "Always in my fuckin' business." But Ian could tell it was meant with nothing but fondness.

Mickey held gave a two finger salute to the hostess on his way out before holding the lion-studded doors and turning to face Ian, "We're in this together, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Ian didn't fall asleep in the car this time. Instead, they played the license plate game and carried impersonal conversation in between stops at gas stations and fast food restaurants.

"Books or movies?" Ian read from his phone.

"What kind of fuckin' question is that?"

"From the online list you made me look up!"

"Yeah, because you suck at coming up with questions!"

"Whatever. Books or movies?"

"Movies, duh."

"Aw, c'mon, you don't like books? When was the last time you even read a book?"

Mickey flipped him off, "What about you, smartass? You prefer books over movies?"

"Well, no..."

"Well, exactly."

"Cats or dogs?" Ian asked. "I've never had either, but dogs are cool."

"Yeah, 'cause you act like one."

Ian gasped, mocking an expression of hurt. "I bet you're a dog person, though."

"Yeah, why're you so sure about that?"

"They're all tough and shit."

"I got a cat back home. She's tougher than any dog I know."

"What's her name?"

"Indy."

"Aw, softy."

"It's short for Indica, clearly we're cool."

Ian gave an even more exaggerated "Aww."

"Shut up, next question."

They had missed the worst of the winter storm that had threatened their flight and gotten them in this situation to begin with. It was starting to get dark and while Mickey assured Ian that he could drive through the night, Ian insisted they could stop at a hotel and still make it back before his interview. Truthfully, he didn't want to be involved in a luxury car crash with a maybe Russian mobster. He couldn't pinpoint Mickey, but that's what he had currently decided on.

They had pulled off into the lot of a pink hotel. Mickey had gotten them two rooms, side-by-side. Instead of going up to his room and passing out like Ian had expected, Mickey headed straight towards the hotel bar -- ordering a mojito and a vodka tonic and making friendly talk with the waitress in a very low cut red shirt like they were old friends. Mickey was nothing like Ian expected.

Ian headed up to his room to drop off his suitcase and call Fiona back, sure she was going to disown him right then and there for avoiding her calls all day.

Ian opted against going down to the bar and instead watched reruns on the hotel tv. Alcohol didn't really mix well with his meds and he didn't want a hangover if they were going to be in a car all day tomorrow -- especially a nice car like that. Yeah, he wasn't puking in that anytime soon if he could help it.

He took a long, hot shower, indulging in the hotel's eucalyptus-scented body wash before settling in for the night.

Ian was resting peacefully until he heard a blood-curdling scream next door. Mickey was next door. Mickey.

Ian leapt out of bed, grabbing nothing but his shirt before frantically knocking on Mickey's door. C'mon Mickey, don't be dead. C'mon. C'mon.

Mickey swung open the door rubbing sleep from his eyes, "Ian?"

"Uh, hi. I heard screaming. Just making sure you're not being murdered."

"Shit, yeah. I get night terrors sometimes. I meant to mention that to you, but it must have slipped my mind after a few drinks. Didn't see you down there?"

"I called it an early night," Ian replied guiltily. He felt bad if Mickey was waiting for him. But he didn't know.

"Yeah... anything else?" Mickey looked Ian up and down. Ian was suddenly hyper aware he was standing in front of Mickey in only his boxers.

"Um, no." Ian glanced around nervously.

"Great." Mickey shut the door. Whatever. Ian turned to open his door, but it wouldn't open. He searched his pants for the key card only to be reminded that he was not, in fact, wearing pants. Fucking great indeed.

Ian knocked on Mickey's door again.

"What?" He grumbled with a tooth pick between his teeth. "'m not fuckin' screamin' anymore."

"I locked myself out."

"Of course you did." Mickey rubbed a hand down his face, "You ain't goin' down to the front desk in your underwear and I'm not goin' down there either so it looks like you can either come with me or sleep in the hallway, your choice."

Some choice.

Ian followed Mickey into his room, the same layout as Ian's -- just mirrored. Mickey tossed a blanket at him and then collapsed back into the pillows himself.

Ian tried to make himself comfortable on the ground but all he was going to do was bruise his fuckin' spine and freeze his ass off because apparently Mickey likes to sleep in Antarctica.

"Fuckin' cold." Ian mumbled, cocooned in his one tiny hotel-grade blanket that hardly covered his long body.

Mickey didn't open his eyes, but he lifted the comforter on the bed, "Get in here, Frosty."

Ian hesitated. But he was really fucking cold. He made sure not to touch Mickey at all as he crawled under the covers, laying as still as he could on the edge of the mattress. Mickey sighed and scooted his back into Ian's chest, grabbed Ian's arm, and draped it around his waist. "There."

Ian was still for a moment before settling into the warmth.

"Mickey." He said softly. He wasn't even sure if Mickey had heard him.

"What?"

"Is that your real name? Mickey?"

Mickey sighed, "Mikhailo."

"Hmm. I like Mikhailo. It's like Mick-halo, like you're an angel."

"Baby, you've met me. There ain't nothing good about me. I'm more like the devil."

"Why's that?"

"Dude, I almost knifed you when we first met."

"I had that coming, though."

"Maybe so."

"Is that all?"

"Fuckin' terrorized my neighborhood as a kid."

"Me too, you ain't special. Got anything else?"

"I'm a raging homo."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Me too. Anything else?"

"Can't do enough for my own kid."

Ian was quiet so Mickey continued.

"Svet won't keep him in Chicago where my job is. I don't wanna be the asshole to choose work over my kid, but I can't just up and leave, either."

"Yeah, but it sounds like you visit him a lot. He must know you love him, though. Bet you're a better father than mine."

"Yeah, mine too. Ain't hard to beat. He's a real dick. I don't wanna be anything like that piece of shit."

Ian squeezing his grip around Mickey's waist. "You're not. I'm still betting you're all things good."

"Hmm."

"Guess we'll just have to see."

"Guess so."

A moment passed before Mickey spoke again.

"Go to sleep, stupid."

"Goodnight, Mick-halo."

Ian nestled his head into Mickey's hair, smelling the eucalyptus on his as well. The two not-strangers drifted off together.

Ian woke up after Mickey, who was already packing up his oddly tiny back pack again. And Ian's suitcase. He took a moment to recall last night's events.

"How the fuck did you get that?"

"Morning to you, too." Mickey tossed a prepacked muffin at Ian's half asleep body. "Went to the front desk for a spare key after continental breakfast, duh. Eat up, we're leaving in 10."

Ian groaned and pulled the covers over his head. He felt a weight on the mattress beside him. He peeked from behind the blanket to see that Mickey had sat down and was currently staring at his legs? Ass? Who knew. Turns out 'thighs' was the correct answer as he set his hand on the outer part of Ian's right thigh. Just resting it there for a moment before getting up.

"Fine, we're leaving in 15."

Satisfied, Ian closed his eyes for a few minutes, feeling the ghost of Mickey on his leg. He was so warm. It was like his heart was on fire.

They ended up leaving 10 minutes after Mickey's initial 15 were up. But it wasn't Ian's fault that there was a hold-up at the front desk. Something about a scheduling conflict between a drag show and a speech contest. Hell, Mickey thought they should combine the two events and call it a day.

Back in the car, Mickey had some upbeat indie music playing this morning while they circled around the old town to find a gas station.

"Ya want anything?" Mickey asked before he turned away from the pump and towards the building, patting down his ass to make sure he had his wallet.

Ian was distracted by the patting for a moment before replying. "Uh, maybe a Gatorade or something?"

Mickey tapped the hood of the car twice instead of replying verbally, but the message was received nonetheless.

Ian pulled up the picture he had taken yesterday of Mickey in front of the bizarre diner, moments before he thought he was being hunted for sport. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

After a moment, the driver's side door swung open, "Whatcha lookin' at, Smiles? Texting your girlfriend?" Mickey teased as he closed the gas tank and hopped in with a coffee balancing in one hand and three different flavors of Gatorade in the other.

"Nothing." Damn, Ian. Like that ain't an obvious lie.

"Ain't nothing, lemme see." Mickey took Ian's phone and dropped the Gatorades on his lap.

"Ouch! Well, thanks -- for these -- but give me my phone back!"

"Is that me?"

No sense in lying now. He was literally looking at it. "Uh, yeah. Thought it looked cool."

"That's dope as fuck, man. Send that shit to me, I wanna post it on my Instagram."

Ian certainly hadn't expected that response. But when had Mickey ever been what he expected?

"I don't have your number." And he wasn't asking for his number like some school girl. Mickey had literally requested he send him something. Ian had no idea why he felt so ridiculously nervous.

"Gimme." Mickey made grabby hands for the phone and began to plug in his number before Ian realized that this definitely counted as distracted driving in a very nice car. "Done."

Done.

The morning and afternoon went by pretty quickly. Mickey sang along to some pop songs while drumming his hands on the steering wheel. Ian took some photos of the inside of the car, earning some light teasing from Mickey. Shut up, this might be my only time in a car worth more than ten grand.

Ian watched the highway and the grass blurring past his window when he suddenly remembered the small notepad and pen he had swiped from Mickey's hotel room.

Mickey looked pretty distracted, so Ian took it out and began to sketch his profile. The man was too beautiful. He couldn't help himself. With a burst of confidence, he added a note to it before ripping the page out and sticking it in the side pocket of Mickey's back pack. If Mickey saw him, he didn't say anything -- for once -- and Ian was glad for that.

They were nearing Illinois state lines, so they had to get into travel specifics. Ian gave him the address to his apartment. Both being Southside, Mickey knew the area well enough that he wouldn't need directions until last minute.

Ian figured now was as good as time as any to ask, "What are you doing in Chicago?"

Mickey made a face like he was thinking about how much he wanted to explain to Ian. "Well, for one, I live there. Second, you've seen my tattoos right?" He held out his knuckles reading FUCK U-UP. Ian nodded and Mickey relaxed one hand back onto the steering wheel before continuing, "Tattoos were a family ritual. I help my brothers on runs when they need it -- those idiots can't plan for shit by themselves. Makes good money though. I also work part-time at this high-end restaurant downtown. Satisfies my sister that I have a legit job. Ain't too bad either. Lotta sketchy shit goes on, though, but they know I'm good to look the other way for a low low price." He grinned.

"Damn, you sure are something," Ian mused.

"Yup yup. What about you hot-shot? What's the whole deal with this interview?"

Ian sighed. "Never finished high school and uh, I have a mood disorder thing so a lot of places won't even consider me. Got fired from my last job for snapping at the dickhead manager --which was well-deserved by the way -- but still stupid. My sister, Fiona, got me this interview with the magazine company she works for -- she thinks I'm so sick like our mother and that if I don't have a job to keep me stable that I'll just fuck off. But the job would be really cool because I've been into photography and shit since like forever. I don't know, it's stupid. But I really just can't stand to let anyone down again, because I am better. They just don't always believe me."

Mickey frowned, and Ian worried he shared too much. But then Mickey rested his hand on Ian's thigh, "Hey, man. That sounds cool. But it's okay to not be okay. Just be honest with me, and I believe you. Promise?"

"Promise."

Ian's apartment was in sight before he knew it. It was starting to get dark out, but he would still be able to get a good night's sleep before his interview in the morning. Mickey's car definitely did not belong in his neighborhood. It stood out like a sore thumb. He couldn't stay for long if he wanted to leave with the car in tact.

Mickey helped Ian get his suitcase out of the backseat and then leaned against the car, watching Ian with a strange look in his eye. Before Ian could ask, Mickey stalked over to him and leaned up, and pressed his lip's against Ian's. He smelled so sweet. It wasn't the eucalyptus shampoo either -- that had long faded. This was just pure Mickey. Mikhailo.

The moment was over too soon and Ian groaned. Mickey gently patted his cheek, "Don't worry, big guy, you ain't gettin' rid of me this easy. I'll see you soon."

"Soon." Ian repeated back, still a bit dazed in the head.

Mickey smirked as he hopped back into the jaguar and sped off to wherever the fuck it is that Mickey goes.

Ian lugged his bag upstairs, unlocked his door, and plopped down on the couch.

Soon.

After texting Fiona one last time, Ian had turned his phone off to avoid any distractions. Giving in to the urge to text Mickey would definitely be a distraction. He needed routine. At least for tonight.

It was a relatively quiet night in terms of activities. He had microwaved a frozen dinner and watched a couple episodes of Schitt's Creek before taking his meds, brushing his teeth, and heading to bed.

No matter how chill of a night he was planning on having, his mind kept racing with thoughts of Mickey with everything he did. That man was so cool and funny and kind, even if he didn't believe it himself. Ian didn't know what exactly had caused such a reign of self-doubt over him, but they would talk about it someday. Ian wanted him to see how good he was. Mickey just brought long-vanished excitement to Ian's life again. He trusted him and cared for him. And he missed him. They had only spent two days together, but Ian couldn't imagine sleeping without him. He drifted off to sleep thinking about what Mickey would look like in his bed with him.

Ian had gotten up at his first alarm for once and arrived to the interview 15 minutes early. He was genuinely passionate about this job so it was easy to turn up his charm. He would hear a call back later that afternoon, but given that he was pretty sure Fiona was sleeping with his would-be boss's boss, he was almost certain he would get the job.

Ian finally turned his phone on when he got home. One message from Fiona -- reminding him of the interview. But more importantly, three from Mickey. He immediately clicked on Mickey's name, absolutely no use in playing it cool anymore. He couldn't get him out of his head.

Mickey (9:27pm): *image attachment*

Mickey (9:27pm): found this in my bag, i wonder how it got there🤔

Mickey (7:32am): good luck at your interview! hope it was worth literally dragging your ass across the country for

Ian smiled.

Ian (10:06am): I have absolutely no idea how that drawing got there. Maybe trolls? 😇

Ian (10:07am): And your luck helped! I think the interviewer liked me :)

Mickey (10:07am): hopefully he didnt like you too much

Ian (10:09am): SHE liked me a very healthy amount.

Mickey (10:10am): gonna keep it that way

Ian (10:12am): 🙄 Oh Mick. Can't be jealous over something you don't have.

Mickey (10:15am): i have you right where i want you dont you worry your pretty little head

Ian (10:17am): So you think I'm pretty is what I'm hearing?

Mickey (10:18am): i think your annoying go away

Ian (10:19am): I thought I couldn't get rid of you that easy?

Mickey (10:19am): changed my fucking mind

Their texting banter came to a halt when Mickey picked up a shift at his legitimate job. Ian unpacked his ratty old suitcase and cleaned up his apartment while he waited for his phone to ring. From the job... from Mickey.

Right when he was switching loads of laundry, his phone rang. It would be a lie if he said he didn't drop everything and run.

It was his new boss him on his new job. He couldn't hold back his grin as he immediately texted Mickey, then Fiona. He was proud of himself.

Fiona called and they chatted about the job -- omitting the part where he assumed she was sleeping with the boss -- and Ian's road trip -- omitting the part where he kissed his once assumed kidnapper -- and then about Fiona's kids and Carl's lately stunt. He was so invested in his little criminal brother that he almost didn't hear the knock at his door.

"Fi, I gotta call you back. I think I have a delivery or something." Ian wasn't expecting anything.

Ian nearly leapt backwards when he cautiously opened his door (there were no damn peepholes in his building) to find Mickey waiting on his doormat with a grin on his face. "Congrats on the job, man!"

"Oh my God. You're here?"

"Yeah, I told you I would see you soon. I'm a man of my word. And I brought cupcakes." Always the unexpected. "Well minus one. I didn't know which apartment was yours and I went to your neighbor's first and he wouldn't tell me where you lived without a fuckin' cupcake. Greedy asshole." He murmured, quietly smiting the old bastard.

"Mickey." Ian smiled, eyes crinkling with it. "You're good. You're so good."

#gw2021 #gw2021day3 #gallavich week 2021 #shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #my posts #shameless fanfic #shameless fanfiction #gallavich fanfic #gallavich fanfiction

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mrsamaroevans · 4 years ago

Text

TIGHTROPE PT. 2 | MIGUEL GALINDO

Fandom: Mayans M.C.

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Female Reader. This follows from: Tightrope.

Request: Yes!

Words: 4,052.

Warnings: English is not my first language, so, sorry if there are grammar mistakes or if the redaction is poor.

A/N: Guys, without joking, I’ve been writing this since the first part was posted and that was nearly a year ago lol. But it’s finally here and I hope you like it! *Gif is not mine*

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

“Never sure, never know how far we could fall”

The past eight months, Miguel never felt so out of place like he was feeling by day four you were out of the house. He’s been feeling so bad not only emotionally because you were not with him, but physically ‘cause he started to catch a cold. His meetings with Potter were frustrating him even more and he was more tired than ever to have meetings with Los Olvidados or the MC.

He took a look at the last months of his life and he knew he had screwed everything up. Miguel hated himself for that; not Potter, not Los Olvidados or the MC. Him. He was the only one to blame for the situation his marriage was in.

That night when Cristobal was sick, he told you how sorry he was and promised you he would make an effort to be more at home. Two months ago, he had the chance to change the way your marriage was going and he didn’t do anything.

You’ve been together since you were sixteen. He knew about the loveless marriage your parents were living in because that was the reason why he had to work so hard for you to accept the first date. Miguel remembers how much you tried to avoid your feelings for him, how careful you were with every step of your relationship. He promised you he wasn’t going to hurt you and he didn’t. When he had to go to Cornell? You tried to break up with him, arguing about all the time he would be away with those pretty New Yorkers but he assured you, you were the only one who he could want to be with. Miguel did everything he had in his hand to make your long-distance relationship work, and instead of feeling away from him, you felt like nothing was different.

He did everything right back then, so right that when he proposed in the winter holidays of his fourth year in Cornell, you accepted without hesitation.

Why couldn’t he be like the twenty-two-year-old Miguel Galindo?

Miguel saw your face appearing on the computer’s screen and suddenly, he started to feel better. He texted you asking you to do a video call and felt relief when you accepted.

At least you didn’t want to avoid him the two weeks you were going to be away.

“Hey! How are you?” He asked and you smiled. Miguel loved seeing how passionate you were about your job, so he smiled for the simple fact of seeing you smiling.

“Fine,” you said “And you? You sound different,” you asked, a bit concerned.

“I’m catching a cold, but I’m fine,” Miguel said nonchalantly.

“There’s medicine in the cabinet of our bathroom,” you told him “You should take some before you feel worse”

“I’m better now that I’m talking to you,” Miguel said and you chuckled immediately “What?”

“You did it too soon,” you said and added when he frowned: “Trying to make me fall in your arms again”

Miguel laughed. He wasn’t trying that, he was just being honest, but now that you touched the subject…

“I know you said we’d talk about it once you come back, but…”

“And we’ll do it” you interrupted him and Miguel understood you didn’t want to talk about it at that moment “I had an interview earlier, that’s why I’m all dressed up,” you said, changing the subject.

“I think you look gorgeous,” he said, and when he saw the look you gave him, he laughed “And how did that interview go?”

Miguel and you talked about a bunch of stuff. You told him about the process of publication of your book and he listened to every single word that came out of your mouth. He didn’t realize how much he missed hearing you talk until now, and when you least expected it, you and your husband talked for three hours straight, something that hadn’t happened in so long.

“You know? This takes me back to those four years you were at Cornell” You said and Miguel nodded.

“Yeah… our old computers didn’t have this quality but, yeah, they helped us,” Miguel said and when he was about to say something else, he saw you turn your attention somewhere else.

“Oh, hi baby” he heard you say and Miguel knew immediately who was the person that walked in the room where you were “Just be careful, Lucy, please”

“I’ll come back as soon as it ends, Mrs. Galindo,” a feminine voice said and then he saw Cristobal in your arms.

“It’s okay, have fun” You smiled, and then the door got closed “You wanna see daddy? Look who’s there!” You pointed to the screen and Cristobal looked at it. A smile appeared when he saw his father and Miguel smiled as well.

“I miss you two so much,” Miguel said, feeling tears in his eyes at seeing you both smiling so wide, but, a thought he didn’t like at all came to his head.

You seemed happier now than in the past eight months and it broke his heart because he felt so alone. Every night he expects to walk in your bedroom and see you sleeping, kiss your head, —kisses you never felt— and lay at your side. But all that he finds is an empty and cold bed.

Miguel didn’t want a future without you and he knew he had to work really hard to keep you in his life.

“What are you thinking, Mickey?”

Miguel looked at his friend, he didn’t even realize he was that quiet and thoughtful. Nestor sat down on the stool next to his and looked at him.

“You miss her so much” Nestor teased once Miguel didn’t say anything.

“I do” Miguel nodded, he had a glass of scotch in his hand and when he took a sip, he realized it was already warm, so he left it aside “I fucked it up, hermano. We never had this distance before, not even when I was at Cornell… and it’s all my fault”

“Well, it’s a progress that you already accepted it,” he said and Miguel scoffed.

“At what damn moment” Miguel sighed and leaned his forearms in the bar “I feel like I’m losing her”

“She thinks the same about you” Nestor confessed, making Miguel look at him.

He should have expected it. You and Nestor started to spend a lot of time together since he was your driver. You met Nestor at the same moment you met Miguel, you were friends, it was obvious you would talk to him.

“You can’t lose her, Miguel,” Nestor told him “(Y/n) and Cristobal are the best things that have happened to you, not the cartel, not the protection you’re having from Los Olvidados… your family”

Nestor was right and Miguel knew it. Not anyone would stand his life and everything that comes with it, but you? You were there since the beginning, you never judged any of his decisions. He was so lucky to have you in his life, ‘cause people could talk shit about him, the cartel could be crumbling down, but at the end of the day, when he walked through the door of your home, you were there, welcoming him with a smile and a kiss. You were all that he needed.

“I know,” Miguel said, immediately “I have always known that, I just… I don’t know what happened, I’m trying to remember but… I can’t. I thought we were fine, I thought I was just working like before and then my son got sick and if I hadn't woken up in the middle of the night, I wouldn't have even noticed” he sighed again, summed in frustration “I didn’t want to be the absent father and husband my father was and here I am. My wife is miles away from me and she looks happier”

“Don’t you think is because you’ve been talking every day?” Nestor asked, raising an eyebrow at him “She loves you, Miguel. Never doubt about it… I’m going to the airport tomorrow for her, you wanna come?”

Miguel nodded. He would do all that it takes to bring his family back.

You had your son in your arms as the babysitter helped you with your suitcase. You missed so much your home that you were so happy that your days in New York came to an end, and for the giant smile Cristobal had, you knew he was also happy, even if he didn’t understand what was going on.

“Let’s find uncle Nestor, you’re gonna help me?” You asked, looking at your son’s face. He smiled at you and wrapped his arms around your neck.

“Over there, Mrs. Galindo” Lucy said, pointing away and when you turned around, you froze for a moment.

Miguel was there with Nestor, and when he spotted you, he started to make his way through the crowd to reach you. You didn’t know what to do for a moment, he surely surprised you ‘cause Nestor told you he had a meeting with Los Olvidados that day. You definitely didn’t expect him to be there.

“Look, baby… it’s daddy” you told Cristobal and he looked at where you were pointing “It’s daddy, baby…”

As soon as Miguel reached you, Cristobal stretched out his arms to his father, and being as happy as never in the last eight months, Miguel took him out of your arms.

You took the chance to turn to the babysitter “Lucy, thank you so much for helping me… we drive you home?” You asked, but she shook her head no.

“My brother is picking me up,” She said.

“Are you sure?” You asked again but she only nodded, “Thank you so much again… Cristobal, say bye to Lucy,” you said, grabbing your suitcase and caressing Cristobal’s back.

The babysitter smiled when Cristobal waved his tiny hand at her, and then she started to walk to look for her brother.

As soon as she walked away, Miguel used his free hand to cup your cheek and kissed you before you could object. You pulled back, frowning, and with a small smile on your face “Someone is too affectionate today”

“I missed you,” Miguel said “And I’m not talking only about these past two weeks…”

“It’s not the place, Miguel,” You told him, but stood on your toes to kiss his lips again “Let’s go home…”

Miguel held your hand the whole way home, he asked you about the flight and about your last two days in New York that you couldn’t talk.

“You’re too affective today” You whispered, looking at him and grinning when he caressed the back of your hand with his thumb. He smiled and turned to you “How’s your mom?” You asked to change the subject.

“Happy ‘cause you’re coming back,” he said “She also missed you two… I think Cristobal helps her with her treatment”

You looked back at Cristobal, who was busy playing with a stuffed bear in his car seat “I also noticed that… what did she say about the psychologist?”

Miguel sighed and you half-smiled, you didn’t need more to know what your mother-in-law thought about that idea “You know her, she doesn’t want to go to a loquero”

“Well, we knew she’d say that” Miguel nodded at your words “Maybe Dr. Kamen can convince her… I’ll talk to her, don’t worry”

Again, Miguel realized he didn’t deserve you. He didn’t know what he had done to have you in his life, you were too good to be true ‘cause even after all that distance, you were there for him, having his back like you had done since you were sixteen.

So he kissed your hand and you smiled.

When Nestor parked outside your house, Miguel leaned to the backseat to take Cristobal as you jumped off from the SUV and smiled when you saw Dita in the front door.

“You’re finally here, querida,” She said, walking to you and hugging you “How was your trip?”

“It was great,” You said, and as soon as Miguel appeared with your son in his arms, Dita’s eyes sparkled.

“Oh, mijo, I missed you so much” Dita smiled and Miguel let her take Cristobal in her arms “You must be hungry,” Dita told you and you couldn’t hide the fact she was right “Let’s go inside, lunch is ready”

That night, even though Miguel wanted to be with you when you bathed Cristobal, he received a call and couldn’t make it. You weren’t mad. You understood that besides his family, he also had other important things to take care of, also, you saw in his eyes that he wanted to fix things up. He didn’t want to lose you and you also didn’t want to lose him.

“Sorry for that,” he said as soon as he crossed the door of your bedroom. Cristobal was in his bed already and you knew he wouldn’t wake up until the morning arrives “I went to see Cristobal… he looks tired”

You smiled.

“Yeah… he was,” you said, taking your earrings off and leaving them on your bedside table. You were tired as well, you would put them to your jeweler tomorrow.

“You also are... We can talk tomorrow”

“No. I promised we would when we had time alone” You said, turning to him and patting the bed for him to sit at your side “What did you want to tell me?”

“I’m sorry” It was the first thing he said “I know I haven’t kept all the promises I made the day we got married. You’re the most amazing wife and mother out there and I haven’t appreciated you the way I should” he shook his head and leaned his head back looking at the ceiling “I used to say that I work a lot, but now I know that’s not an excuse. ‘Cause, you work a lot too and you haven’t neglected our son, our house, or our marriage… I can see it now”

Our marriage.

Those two words made you shiver. You have confronted him about Adelita’s baby and you were afraid that the words he used just confirmed your biggest fear. But he could see that in your eyes, ‘cause he started to shake his head.

“I swear to God, amor, that between Adelita and I never happened anything,” he said, grabbing your hands. There were tears in his eyes, afraid of you not believing him “I can see why would you think that and, unfortunately, I have nothing else than my word for you to believe me” you looked him in the eyes, you wanted to have proofs but how could you have them? You had to trust him “You’re the only woman I have ever love and that’s how it’s gonna be forever. You can trust me”

“I do,” You said after a few seconds “If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened”

“Nothing” Miguel insisted, sitting closer as one of his arms landed on your shoulders and kissed your head.

“Thank you for not ignoring my feelings,” you said with your eyes closed. You missed having him so close, the smell of his cologne taking you to all the happy memories at his side.

“I’m sorry it took me too long to finally see it” he got a few inches apart from you, so you opened your eyes and looked up at him. You couldn’t deny it, you were a bit disappointed for that action “And… I know this is not romantic but…” you leaned back to see him better. Miguel was nervous and the only times he was like that were, when he asked you for the first date, when he proposed to you and when your son was born “We’ve been married for ten years now, and if you want… I want to renew our vows”

You were surprised.

You didn’t know anyone who wanted to renew their votes. The only thing that you heard of marriages when you were young, was that they were so tired of being in them.

“Miguel…” you barely whispered when he got on one knee in front of you. His hand grabbed a small black velvet box from his suit coat and opened it.

“Would you like to marry me again?” Miguel grabbed one of your hands as you were still trying to find your voice “I can’t promise you I won’t make mistakes again because I’m not perfect, but I promise to always put you and my family first”

You smiled. Your eyes getting watery as you nodded.

Miguel sighed in relief and took your engagement ring off your finger to place the new one “I love you” he told you as he stood and the next thing he did was cupping your cheeks to kiss you.

You accepted his lips, leaned back, and held from his dress shirt where you looked for its buttons as the kiss went from sweet to passionate. It had been so long since the last time he touched you like he was doing it at that moment, and your heart melted when you realized that his touch felt the same as always.

But, of course, the moment was interrupted by Miguel’s phone.

“Are you kidding me?” He said, irritated at whoever he was talking to “Potter wants to talk now? Does he know what time is it?”

You sat in the bed and looked at him as he walked around the room. You bite your lower lip as you recognized Alvarez’s voice coming out of the device and from what you could hear, you knew Miguel had to leave.

“No… tell him I won’t go anywhere”

You walked towards him and stood in front of him so he could see you. Just by looking at your face, he shook his head, but stopped when you placed one of your hands on his chest “Go. They need you” you whispered.

Miguel covered the microphone and shook his head again “I got it, amor, they won’t interrupt us”

“I’ll be here when you come back,” you told him with a smile as you wrapped your arms around his middle and left a soft kiss on his chest. He didn’t understand how he could deserve someone like you “Go. It’s okay”

He sighed and gave in “I’ll come back as soon as I can,” Miguel said kissing you, before walking out of the room as he buttoned his shirt.

Your eyes stayed at the door for a couple of seconds and when you looked down at your left hand, you smiled at seeing the new ring on your finger. If you wanted a proof, that could be. The butterflies in your stomach made you giggle while you made your way to the bathroom to take a shower.

Half an hour later, you were doing your skincare routine. You had a small smile while remembering the past weeks and how you were feeling things were changing just stepping into Californian ground. It all started to feel like before and you were not even afraid that things could change for worse. What happened today was proof enough for you to be sure that you could overcome anything.

You turned to your left when you heard the bedroom door being closed. After placing all the products where they belonged, you walked back to the bedroom just in time when Miguel was about to call your name.

“What happened? Potter just wanted to say hi?” You asked and Miguel chuckled at your joke as he was taking his coat off.

“I was in the car and I realized that I didn’t care what he wanted, so I asked Alvarez to come back,” Miguel said, unbuttoning his shirt and looking directly at you “I want to spend this night with you and nor Potter nor anyone is gonna interrupt”

“Amor… I was being honest when I told you it was okay” You told him smiling once he reached you.

“I’ll deal with him tomorrow” Miguel smirked and pulled off the strip from your robe “I love you”

Your hands cupped his cheeks “I love you too”

| ONE YEAR LATER |

The sky was bright blue. There were no clouds and the weather was perfect. Miguel and Cristobal were in the pool while you watched them from the bed in the tent Miguel asked to be built. They were having fun until the little one wanted some cookies from the kitchen and as demanding as his father, he wanted to go for them.

“We have fruit here,” You told your son, pointing at the bowls on the table as Miguel helped him to take his blue lifejacket off. Cristobal pouted and shook his head no.

“I want cookies” he insisted.

“Fine, just two,” you said and your son nodded. he grabbed his father’s hand and dragged him all the way to the kitchen.

You smiled watching them going inside the house. Their curls and swimsuits dripping water as they walked. There was no doubt that Cristobal was looking more and more like his father as the days go on.

The giggles of your son became louder as they approached the tent. You looked up from your phone and saw your son with two cookies in both of his hands. You turned to Miguel, questioning him with your gaze.

The expression on his face was saying “I couldn’t do anything”

“I said just two cookies, hun,” you told your husband once Cristobal sat near you.

“I told him so,” Miguel said quickly “Tell your mother what you told me”

Cristobal smiled when you ran your fingers through his hair “Two for me and two for little brother” he looked at you and then turned to the bassinet at your side. You couldn’t stop your laugh and neither did Miguel.

“But little brother can’t eat cookies yet,” you told him.

“Can I eat them for him?” Cristobal asked looking up at you with a big smile, trying to look as innocent as he could.

You looked at Miguel who didn’t even try to hide his smirk. Like father, like son.

“Fine,” you told him “but you’ll have to wait an hour before you go to the pool again”

Cristobal nodded too eagerly probably not knowing what an hour meant, and when Miguel was about to say something, your youngest son started to whine “Hey, little man. What’s wrong?” he asked taking the baby in his arms and trying to coo him, “I know, I know. You don’t want to see me now; you want your mami”

You smiled when Miguel kissed his forehead to place it in your arms so he could eat.

Miguel laid on the bed with Cristobal, they were close to you but not enough so they wouldn’t get you or the baby wet. He was having a conversation with his son, at least, the kind of conversation a three-year-old kid could maintain, which soon started to fade away and when you looked at them, you saw your oldest son sleeping on Miguel’s chest.

“He gave up,” Miguel said with a smile when he noticed you were watching them. One of his hands was on Cristobal’s back and the other in his hair “You want to try for a girl?”

You chuckled while patting your newborn child on the back “It’s been only six days since this little one came out of me… give me two years to forget the pain and we can talk about it”

“We have a deal here” He smiled at you and then kissed his son’s head “I think he likes being the big brother”

“Yeah, he gets extra cookies” you both chuckled at that “Today was wonderful”

“Every day at your side is wonderful”

“Ugh, cheesy” you laughed and Miguel looked at you pretending to be offended.

“I’m not taking it back, because it’s true” Miguel shrugged as best as the kid in his chest let him “I love you, you know it”

“Hun… I love you too”

Miguel stood there, lying in bed and looking at you and your sons. He was thankful that you had given him another chance, ‘cause he realized by looking at you three, that he couldn’t see his life without you.

“Hand in my hand and you promised to never let go”

Tags: @luckyharley1903

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

#miguel galindo #miguel galindo x oc #miguel galindo fanfiction #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo imagine #miguel galindo x you #miguel galindo x female reader #Mayans MC #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fic #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfic #sons of anarchy fandom

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

Text

Book of Soulmates

pairing: Jungkook x reader

premise: the boys decide that it’s high time for Jungkook to meet his soulmate - especially after he loses it during one of the most serious parts of the performance.

“Oh! She’s also pretty good at Best of Me, but I’m telling you nothing will ever beat Jin’s part in-”

“I swear,” Jin interrupts the youngest, chuckling. “Do you know if the soulmate board has found her yet?”

Namjoon slaps Jin’s back a little too hard, completely oblivious. “Hyung, I think you want her to be found more than Jungkook. Are you gonna interrogate her or something?”

“No...I just have a few questions for her. Mainly, why me?”

Jungkook starts running in place, anxious for the concert to begin. “Well, we’ll see if she’s here tonight.”

Being a part of one of the most successful groups in the world certainly had its perks; one of those being the ability to track down soulmates.

It was something that the boys didn’t want to abuse, but it was also something that had them realizing that while many of them still hadn't met their soulmates - Hoseok had earlier in the year, by complete accident - it was high time for Jungkook to find his.

It all started with a certain ballad.

Jungkook shared a bond where he could hear whatever music his soulmate was currently listening to, so long as they were singing along. This gave his soulmate an obvious advantage: she easily found out that Jeon Jungkook was her soulmate. Who else had such a beautiful voice?

When the song ‘The Truth Untold’ finally graced the world, Jungkook anxiously awaited to hear if his soulmate liked the song. If she would sing it over and over again throughout the following weeks, at any time of day. He waited anxiously for the tell-tale sound of the girl singing in his head.

She loved the song.

And it’s been both a blessing and a curse ever since.

Something that Jungkook has come to find out about his soulmate: she’ll do anything to make him laugh. And usually at the most inopportune times.

Which is exactly what he’s preparing himself for right now, standing with the rest of the vocal line, struggling to keep a straight face. They’re nearing Jin’s part of the song, which is the hardest part to get through.

Mainly because of the horrible impression that echos through his head as his soulmate either sings the song in real time (it’s slightly alarming how many times she’s been right on time, regardless of the time zone Jungkook is currently in) or the memory of all the times he’s tried to imitate what it sounds like to his brothers has him barely holding back his laughter.

So tonight when Jin, looking ever so serious, gracefully does his best, Jungkook can’t help but choke down a laugh.

Not only does his soulmate pipe up at this exact moment, completely butchering Jin’s part in a way that he’s sure will always remain in his head, but Jin’s voice cracks.

The other boys give Jungkook a side glace, practically threatening him with his life if he loses it on stage right now. So, he does the only other thing he knows to do.

Lowering his head, he feigns crying even as his shoulders shake with laughter.

After the song, as they rush below stage, Jungkook can’t contain his laughter anymore. Shoulders shaking while he gives Jin a pitiful look, he just shrugs.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps while laughing, “It’s just so good. A-and then your voice-”

“Yah!” Jin shouts, stalking away while hiding a smile. “Go get changed!”

As Jungkook prepares with the rest of the boys for the next stage, Sejin appears with a serious expression. Everyone falls silent, Jungkook’s stomach knotting.

A couple of months ago Jungkook had sat down with the soulmate board of Bighit and filled out some paperwork which would hopefully help them to locate his soulmate. Tonight was the big test, and hearing her sing along was a sure sign. She’s here.

Jungkook had informed staff after their first set that he’d heard her singing along to every word. His hands were shaking as he did so.

“Hey guys,” Sejin begins with a docile tone. “Concert’s been great. Just finish up this set strong, alright?”

Jungkook stares at the manager with wide eyes, not needing to voice the question but doing so anyways. “Did you guys...?”

Sejin nods, a little smile adorning his face. “Yeah, we found her. Gave her and her friend a pass to come backstage immediately after. They’ll be escorted back.”

Jungkook’s heart stops for a split second before taking off again. Nodding more to himself than anyone, he bounces around on his feet. “Let’s go, then.”

The rest of the concert is a strange blur. Now that he knows for certain that his soulmate is out there in the crowd, he can’t help but look for her. While he knows that the chances of him recognizing her on the spot are slim to none, he still can’t help but wonder who it may be.

As the concert ends and Jungkook begins to descend below stage, he sees a couple of bodyguards weaving their way through the crowd, heading toward someone. He knows that they’re heading for his soulmate, to escort her backstage.

What follows are a series of breathing exercises, shaking hands, and tight hugs and words of reassurance from his hyungs. Once he’s finally changed into normal clothes, he watches as everyone else eats some dinner.

“You need to eat something, Jungkookie,” Jimin repeats for the third time. Jungkook stares at the food, not entirely seeing it.

Hoseok chuckles knowingly, sitting beside him. He ruffles his hair. “You’ll be fine,” he coos. “Better than fine.”

Jungkook settles a little at Hoseok’s words, knowing that they carry a bit more weight as he’s already met his soulmate. The older boy lingers for a moment longer before sneaking out of the room to call his soulmate.

When Sejin comes to collect Jungkook, he feels as though he’s walking through concrete. Heart practically pounding out of his chest, he hardly hears whatever it is Sejin is saying to him.

All too soon, they’re standing before a door which Jungkook knows they had hair and makeup done earlier. Sejin gives him a pat on the back.

“Ok, final test. Sing something softly, maybe something you know that they’ll sing back. Just to make sure,” Sejin mumbles.

Jungkook’s mind goes completely blank, but the last song that they sang today is still fresh in his mind.

Ever so quietly, Jungkook sings out.

“So show me...”

Almost immediately another voice rings out, not nearly as timid. “I’ll show you.”

A smile breaking out on his face, Jungkook doesn’t wait any longer to throw the door open.

Immediately his eyes fall on a girl that sits beside another one that is mid-bite. The other girl jumps up from the sofa, eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

The two soulmates stare for a moment, minds blank as they try to compute what’s actually happening in this moment. The other girl continues eating, chuckling softly.

“Aren’t you going to talk to him?” She nudges her friend forward, earning a glare in response.

Cheeks burning red, Jungkook’s soulmate chokes out, “Did...did I make you laugh today?”

Jungkook smiles while choking on a sob, stumbling forward until he envelopes his soulmate in his arms.

“Yes,” he breathes out. “And now you’ve made me cry.”

masterlist

@ddaengineedhelp

#Jungkook soulmate au #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts soulmate au #bts music au #Jungkook music au #Jungkook fluff #bts fluff #bts x y/n #Jungkook x y/n #Jungkook requests #bts requests #bts x army

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thatsgay-writes · 4 years ago

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Day 12

The days after finding water we're pretty chill, minus finding out that Jeanette's body was gone. There was still some obvious tension between you and Toni and Toni and Martha and Shelby. You hadn't really interacted with either Toni or Shelby in the past few days either, opting to hang around Fatin. You hadn't talked to Toni because you didn't know what to say after the argument the two of you had and you had revealed your feelings for her in front of everyone. Shelby on the other head, had seemed to be the one ignoring you... Well maybe not ignoring she was just very short with you which was totally against her personality. You all had also made a schedule, seeing as you were going to be here for a while. Everyone got one chore a day and every once and a while a day off. Today happened to be your day off and you were glad, your chest pains had been happening more often and that concerned you.

It also concerned you that you didn't know when you would be rescued. The hospital, who was against the retreat but couldn't exactly do anything about it, had given you medication to help with your problem. It was enough pills for three weeks, just in case, but they had been lost like the rest of your stuff. You had checked the pilot bag that held all the medical stuff you guys had but it didn't have what you were looking for either. You've managed to hide coughing up blood by coughing into the elbow of you red shirt or spitting it out while in the woods. You had also been losing your appetite, which has been harder to hide. You'd force down some food and pretend like it was a lot so the other wouldn't worry. But today, luckily, you were starving and prepared to fully eat whatever Rachel brought for food.

---

"Let's feast!" You hear a Rachel suddenly yell as she stand on top of a little hill, carrying what looks to be a big amount of food. You stood up and attached your leg before joining everyone around the fire. You watch, mouth watering, as Dot cooks all the mussels over the fire. When they're done cooking, the mussels are laid out in a big pile in the middle. Everyone stared at the pile wondering who will go first, since they all understood how little food they had been finding the past couple days. "Eat as much as you want guys, there was enough of them to fill 3 more bags. I just ran out of room." At Rachel's words you all dive in and eat the mussels, except for Shelby. "Why aren't you eating any?" Leah asks as she looks suspiciously at Shelby. Not this again. You think as you eat your tenth mussel, what could you say you were hungry.

"I'm actually allergic to shellfish. Ate one at a birthday party and my throat swelled up like a balloon." Shelby responded as she watched everyone else eat. "That's rough." You say as you grab 3 more mussels. "Damn y/n. Is it good?" Fatin asks jokingly as she grabs another mussels for herself. You roll your eyes and let out a chuckle as you flip her off before grabbing more food. "You know what this looks like..." Toni says, grabbing everyone's attention with a smirk. You mentally facepalm because you know exactly where this is going. "A pussy!" Nora yells out causing everyone to laugh, the girl had definitely come out of her shell more the past few days. Toni nods her head before licking the mussels shell provocatively. "I bet y/n knows what that feels like!" Dot yells out causing everyone to make an "ooo" sound like kids when their peer got in trouble. You and Toni's face both heated up at Dots words and you made sure to give her a hardy punch in the shoulder.

"Can you all stop!?" Shelby suddenly yells out causing everyone to freeze and look at her questioningly. "Shelby, chill out we are just having some fun." Dot says, not really understanding what all the fuss was about. "I am chill, I just don't find that very amusing." Shelby responded, her voice getting a little harsher when she says the word that. "What do you mean by that?" Toni asks as she send you a quick look and you almost immediately understood where this was going. The look was one you or Toni would give the other when known homophobes where in the area or if the two knew you were being judge for doing pda. Was this why Shelley had been short with you the past few days? You did not like where this was going and neither did Toni. "Just... pornographic gestures. I'm from a very Christian home and no one ever does things like that."

You wanted to believe Shelby, you really did, but it explained why you always felt this weird vibe from her. "Don't lie Shelby, I always knew I felt some sort of vibe from you, it's clear now what it was. Toni and I have felt that vibe enough times to know what you really mean." You say, glaring at Shelby. "What... What are you guys trying to say?" Martha asks getting worried now. She knew what you meant when you said vibe, you and Toni had both told her about it. "She's a fucking homophobe." Toni spits out glaring at Shelby. You nod you head in agreement, putting back the mussels you had picked up before all this started. Martha's eyes go wide and she sends a Shelby a pleasing look, hoping she'll deny what Toni had just said.

"Look..." Shelby says as she lets out a big sigh. "I have no hate in my heart for y'all. It was just that I was taught that that way of life is a sin." Toni immediately jumps up and point her finger angrily at Shelby, "Why you little..." Toni was too mad to even finish her sentence. Martha had dropped her head in disappointment and let Fatin wrap and arm around her in comfort. The rest of the girls were just watching as everything unfolded. "I feel sorry—" Shelby starts to say, digging her into an even deep hole. "Fuck you." Toni interrupts her before storming off, you nod your head repeatedly in agreement, not looking at anyone as you finish putting your leg on and following after Toni.

---

"Toni. Toni. Toni!" You yell as you follow the girl. "Goddamn leg... Goddamn sand..." You mumble as you follow Toni down the beach. Luckily, she does finally stop after she deemed that she was far away enough to breathe. Toni kicks the sand angrily, as she stares out into the water. "I can't fucking believe this, no I can I just hoped..." Toni trails off as she wraps her arm around herself. You walk up to her and wrap your arms around her in a comforting hug, "I know, I know..." "We just get so much shit at home..." Toni trails off as she lets herself relax into your hug. "I know." You say again because that's all you can say. You relax for a few minutes before you get hit with a sudden nausea.

"Oh fuck." You mumble out as you unwrap from around Toni and throw up near the two of you. "Y/n?" Toni reacts in shock as she watches you kneel over as you try and spit out the taste of vomit and blood. Toni ends up turning around to throw up as well. "I didn't know you were a sympathetic puker..." You try and joke as you take deep breathes and slowly lay in the sand, feelin exhausted from throwing up. Toni wiped her mouth before turning back around, "C'mon, we can't stay here the heat wont help at all." Toni says as she pulls you to your feet, trying to ignore how she slowly started feeling worse. Toni has to practically drag your body back towards camp. "Help!" She yelled out as soon as she saw people and Fatin came running over. She took your other arm and most of the weight so Toni could relax some.

Luckily, the other girls seemed to be doing better than you and Toni. Both you and Toni were splayed out on the ground with Martha sitting near by as the other girls moved around the camp doing whatever. "Come on, lay on your side y/n." Martha mumbles worriedly as she listens to your labored breathing. Toni was at least a little more responsive and had tried to swallow water, while you didn't even react to someone moving your body. "Fuck, she's getting worse..." Dot said as she walked up to check on the three of you. "Where the hell is Leah with that medicine!?" Fatin almost yelled as she looked between you and Toni. Right as she said that, Leah broke through the tree line and ran towards Dot. "Why are they all dirty?" Dot yells out as she roots through the bag. "Only 2? I thought we had 3, I know we had 3!" Dot pulls out two tablets of halophen. "It's obvious who needs them the most." Shelby stated as she sat a little ways away from the group unfold. Dot bites her lip and looks at Martha, "Martha, you good?" "Yeah, I'll take a Pepto."

Dot nods her head and turns towards Fatin and hands her one of the tablets, "Figure out a way for her to take it." Fatin nods her head as she looks down at you. "Toni, I'm going to need you to take this." Shelby said as she took the other halophen tab from Dot. "I'm not taking shit from you." Toni says as angrily as she can. "It'll save your life Toni. Take the damn pill." "Should Shelby really be the one doing this." Rachel questions. "Am I not allowed to help her!?" Shelby says exasperatedly. She climbed on top of Toni and held her nose closed until she opened her mouth. As soon as she did, she stuff the pill in her mouth and covered it, forcing her to swallow. Shelby got off of Toni and turned her attention to you, ignoring how the other girls were looking at her.

"Have you gotten her to take it yet?" Fatin shakes her head no, "She's barely reacting to anything. I'm surprised she's still conscious." The girls sat silent for moment contemplating what to do. They start to panic when you cough up more blood. "Here, give it to me." Dot says as she snatches the tab and a nearby rock. She starts to crush the tab up as much as possible. "Just pour some in front of her nose and breath deep." The other girls don't really question Dot's idea and just follow what she says. "C'mon y/n, just one big breath and then you'll start to feel better."

---

You were leaning heavily against Toni as you and all the girls sat around the fire. You were still exhausted from today's earlier event. Luckily, they associated you coughing up blood to throwing up to much and you didn't have the heart to tell them otherwise. No one knew about what was wrong with you except for the people at the hospital and yourself. You were finally clear to sleep by Dot because she wanted to make sure the meds had actually worked and that you wouldn't fall asleep just to never wake up again. You were almost asleep when Toni suddenly stands up yelling Martha's name and running over to her. You shake yourself awake and shakily stand up to see what was happening. Your heart stopped when you noticed that Martha had fallen and made no attempts at getting back up.

"Toni you were dying!" "Who cares? I don't matter! fuck, I don't matter. I don't fucking matter."

#the wilds x reader #x reader #female reader #shoni x reader #toni x reader #toni shalifoe x reader #shelby x reader #shelby goodkind x reader #toni x shelby #shoni #toni shalifoe x shelby goodkind

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jaybird-fanfics · 2 years ago

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Predator: Chapter 13

Y/n had returned home, where Eren still was, a bag of clothes in hand for him. She allowed Eren to go upstairs and change, as he came back down, she found that the shirt and sweatpants she gave him fit him well. Eren gave her his thanks and a goodbye before walking towards the door, however Y/n stopped him. "Wait, come here. I still have a few questions." She patted the spot next to her on the couch. Eren agreed, might as well answer some more, the damage is already done.

Eren sat next to her, but not too close, he didn't want to make her more uncomfortable, if she was already. "Ask away." Eren told her. "Ok, does your family know?" Eren went quiet. "I don't have much of a family anymore." He muttered. "Even if they were alive, I couldn't have told them."

"Oh...I'm so sorry I didn't-"

"No, it's fine. Don't apologize."

The two sat in uncomfortable silence until Y/n finally broke it. "What about Mikasa? You still have her right?" Eren smiled slightly. "Yeah, I do. And Armin too. Those two are my family now. You know, we didn't really go to my family home, now that it's obvious."

"Then where did you go?" Y/n asked. "A secret location. It's where me and Armin go every new moon. Werewolves get more aggressive during one, so it's best if the ones who still have some control over themselves hide from the rest of the world." Y/n nodded along to his explanation. "You seem pretty calm for a supposedly aggressive werewolf."

"Yeah? Would have been much different some years ago. I would have trashed this place when we were arguing earlier, if I was still that stupid teen I was."

"Anger issues?" Y/n smirks. "You have no idea." Eren chuckled, but it died down quickly. His attention was turned to the front door. Y/n, confused, looked ahead to the door as well. "What is i-"

Knocking. Loud knocking. Then voices. "Eren! We know you're in there!" Eren clicked his tongue. "I knew they would find me eventually." Eren stood up. "That sounded like Mikasa, she sounds upset." Y/n tells him. "Why are they looking for you?" She asks. "You know that secret place I told you about? Yeah well, I'm not suppose to leave until the week is up." He walked towards the front door. "Oh, because it's against one of the many rules you have to follow. Right?"

"Right." Eren opened the door. Mikasa hugged him tightly. "Damn it Eren! I was worried sick, are you ok?" She pulled back to look at him. "I'm fine." Eren said simply. "Eren." Armin spoke up. "You're in different clothes...did you!?" Amrin looked to Y/n. "You transformed didn't you?" His whispered. "She deserved to know." Mikasa held back a gasp. "Eren..."

Y/n walked up to the door. "Um...Hi?" Armin and Mikasa both looked at her, then back to Eren. "If you're mad then be mad at me." Eren tells them. "Her own friends wouldn't tell her, so I figured-"

"Do you have any idea how stupid that was!?" Armin yelled, not meaning to. He calmed down. "Eren, if Levi finds out about this..."

"He won't." Eren said firmly. "Not unless you say something again." Armin stood his ground, not letting Eren's angered gaze get the better of him. "I only did that, because I knew he would find out eventually. Maybe by beating the answer out of you. Do you prefer that?"

"I'd prefer you not rat me out." Eren countered. Y/n stepped in, feeling the argument was getting more heated. "Ok, everyone just calm down. Look, if this if going to be an issue, me knowing that is, then at least tell me what I can do to make up for it."

"You don't have to do anything Y/n." Said Eren. "If you two hadn't known I was like this I would have told you. I told Y/n, because she's our friend. Isn't she?" Armin and Mikasa looked at each other. "She is but-" Eren cut Mikasa off. "Then she's trustworthy. Besides, she's already told someone about getting attacked. And no one believed her." Y/n looked down, slightly embarrassed. "Do you really think they're going to believe that I'm a werewolf?" He asks.

"I...Who did she tell?" Armin asked. "Ymir." Eren answered. Armin was quiet after that. "Hey, you're one too aren't you?" Y/n asks Armin. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Um...yeah. I am. I'm assuming Eren told you everything then?" Y/n nods. "He told me Ymir was one of you as well, is that true? And, do you know her like Eren does?"

"Yes, it's true. Ymir's a werewolf like us, and we do know her too. But, we agreed to act as if we just met. Her motives for leaving the organization are valid, we don't want to stir anything up with her."

"And, those motives are?" Y/n asks. "She wanted to be with Historia. But the organization wouldn't allow it." He continued. "Werewolves and humans aren't meant to be together." Armin glanced at Eren. "Not unless a bond is made."

"A bond?" Y/n tilts her head. "A bond is when a werewolf marks a human as their own, however this can only really work if said human gives their complete consent. When this bond happens, nothing in the world can break it." Huh, sounds very...romantic? Sure, romantic, not weird at all. "I guess Ymir and Historia have that bond. I've never seen a couple more in love with each other than them." Y/n chuckles.

"Ok, now with that out of the way." Armin turns to Eren. "It's time to go back. Don't try and argue, please. Levi already knows you're gone, he called wanting to speak with you. So, you can imagine how livid he was when he found out you weren't there." Eren scowled at the thought of Levi. But before he could argue to stay, Y/n spoke up. "You should go with them Eren."

Eren looked down at her. "What?"

"I don't want you to get into anymore trouble than you're already in. So, I think it would be best if you just went with them." Y/n explains. "It's just for a few more days, right?" Eren sighed. "Right. Fine, I'll go. I'll catch up with you two in a minute. There's something I want to say to Y/n first." Mikasa and Armin hesitated, but agreed to go and wait for him. When they were both out of earshot, Eren turned to Y/n.

"Thanks for understanding, and for the clothes. I'll be sure to pay you back." Y/n waved it off. "Nah, don't worry about it. I'm over the shock, you don't owe me anything."

"Don't I?" Eren asked. "You were super pissed at me earlier. Which, I totally get."

"I know, sorry again. But to be honest, a friend telling you that they're a werewolf isn't something you'd just be like "ok I believe you" about." Eren humorously smiled at that. "You have a point." Y/n smiled as well, but it suddenly dropped. "I'm sorry for what I said, about not knowing you or your friends well enough. I'd like to, it's just...hard for me. But, if now that I do know more about you and them, maybe we can all become closer friends?"

"I'd like that." Eren agreed, a little too quickly. "Yeah, I would really like that. Well, see you around." Eren said before leaving the front door. "See ya." Y/n muttered, a small smile forming on her lips.

This was one of the craziest nights of her life, and she was smiling. For what? Maybe because she was getting closer with Eren and his friends? So that she wouldn't be as alone anymore? Whatever it may be, she was happy. And that was good enough of a reason to be smiling for her.

Now. What to do about Ymir...

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bumbershots · 4 years ago

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LOVEFOOL

Author’s note: HELLO! This is my part for the Valentine’s Day challenge that @1dffchallenges put together. Make sure to keep an eye out for any other pieces published by other authors. Enjoy! And happy Valentine’s weekend! (:

Summary: Harry agrees to go on a blind date set up by his friends in hopes that it will help him move on from an unrequited love.

Word count: 3K

Challenge prompt and dialogue: blind date set up by friends. “I don’t want this to end...”

There’s a first for everything. Harry’s had his fair share of them at the age of twenty-seven. First time on an aeroplane at the tender age of six for a family holiday in Rome. First kiss on his home town’s park with someone he deeply cared about. First time in a recording studio. First time going on tour. The first night spent alone in his new and barely furnished home. The first morning he laid eyes on the girl next door. The ugly heartbreak after she got married, certainly felt worse than his first one.

Life is full of firsts, Harry knows that, and he wishes to have been the first to sneak his way into Jane’s heart, all those years ago.

"You love her" it almost sounds like an accusation coming from Jeff, though the last thing he wants is to make Harry feel guilty. The musician doesn't reply, he shrugs, eyes never leaving her no matter how deep into the ocean she seems to be. "Does she know?" Harry shakes his head in denial. "Did you bring her along just so you could tell her?"

"I enjoy writing music with her, that's why she's here," his tone leaves no room for more questions, the manager knows and sighs defeated. Harry stands from his spot on the beach and heads back inside the house, alone.

Is he being that obvious?

He reviews the past few days and wonders where he slipped, nothing rings any bell. Harry completely and conveniently forgets how he doesn't nag her for having a smoke after dinner, instead he just opens the window and stands close to it, or how he's been making her a cuppa everyday at noon. But it was the time when Jane asked him to help her French plait her hair when something clicked in Jeff's brain, the way Harry beamed at such a simple request left no room for questioning. Yet he asked him, because there was that tiny chance of it all being part of the manager's imagination, but when he looked back on it, the little things now made more sense to him and in a way he always knew.

They've been in Port Antonio for two weeks now and everything was going just dandy, Harry was writing more than ever, the first week he had a new song every day, he even polished the old ones and had a tune for his favourites, thanks to Mitch's help. When Jeff Azoff got there earlier this week, he spent a good two hours talking to Jeff Bhasker about how much of a good idea the trip was.

"Harry is on a writing spree." He complimented Azoff's client, it was nothing but the truth. However the reason for it all, was now heading back to the house to join the others after a good surfing session.

Jane went straight to take a shower, ready to rinse all the ocean's saltiness from her body, thinking how wonderful it would've been if her own worries could be washed away with her tangerine shampoo. In contrast to Harry's good spirits and excellent mood, her own cloud of trouble seemed to follow her all the way from London. She still hadn't heard from her husband, so it is safe to say he was still upset about her going away to work in Harry's album. It was impossible for her to forget the argument they had, at first thinking it was a joke on his side, insinuating that they were ‘shagging behind his back’.

After her shower, wearing comfortable clothes, Jane joins the others for supper but keeps to herself, still with the dichotomy about calling Alex or letting him be. He will eventually come to his senses and apologise.

What if he doesn't?

The thought alone of her clothes being packed in boxes by the time she gets back home almost makes her cry, perhaps she can call or text him just to test the waters. It is ridiculous how she seems to be more mature about this than him.

"Penny for them?" Harry's voice brings her back to the now empty dining room, the voices from the rest of their party can be heard from the living room.

"God I'm sorry H, lost myself out there for a moment," she is embarrassed, with him, the others and herself for letting this situation get under her skin. And she's also avoiding talking about it, with Harry or anyone. "I was just thinking about the tempo for Sweet Creature."

"Liar," he hates to be shut down by her more than anything. "Is it because I didn't let you eat the last peanut drop the other day?" It would've been easier for her to say it was, than to address the actual reason. But Harry hasn't lied to her, ever.

"No love, although I was a bit hurt because of that, it's actually this thing with Alex we are, I don't know, he was upset with me and said some things," Jane couldn't finish, her speech was cut short by a quiet sob and Harry was quick to pull her from the chair onto his lap and hold her tight. His own heart speeding at the sight of her distressed.

"When was the last time you spoke to him?"

"Two weeks ago." Her voice barely whispers on his chest, "he's being a wanker to be honest, just because he's not going on tour with any of his bands I'm supposed to be a stay at home wife!"

"Why don't you explain this to me, from the beginning, please?" He asks rubbing her back soothingly, and she spills it all, the having kids now or never argument, to her wanting to have a proper wedding party and finally the latest fight where Alex suggested an affair going on between her and Harry, the latter had to do his best not to put the option on the table, since her husband so kindly suggested it. Might as well, he thought. "It all sounds like a big misunderstanding, I know you're a great communicator sunshine, so it baffles me that you've let this go on for so long." He's got a point.

"You're right, but I feel like it's his turn, you know?" Jane's done weeping, but remained on her friend's lap and arms, head resting on his shoulder. "He's always forward, mature, a proper thirty year old except when it comes to arguments where we ought to reach an agreement," she plays a bit with the cross hanging from his neck, a scowl on her pretty face. "Like with the children thing, we only stopped arguing when I said that maybe in two more years we could have one instead of, you know, my early thirties." It's good that she can't see how upset Harry is.

"You gave into that one, he should do the same but it's his choice," Harry sighs and can't believe what he's about to say. "Take the day off tomorrow, call him or FaceTime, Skype whatever you choose, but have a proper conversation with him." She wants to argue and say it's not necessary to be absent the whole day, she can spare a few hours. But she will need time to think about what to say, make her point clear so they are on good terms until she goes back to London.

"Fine, but if he is still acting like a dickhead afterwards, I'm not going to let it into my head anymore, we will continue to bask in this great work environment going on here." Jane states, pulling away from his embrace just enough to give him that stern look she uses when trying to make a point, and Harry nods with a warm smile, the one she never gets tired of seeing. "I'll call it a night now, gonna be asleep in seconds now that I've got that out of my chest." She stands from his lap, missing his warmth instantly. "Thanks for that."

"Anytime honey pie." Harry says before leaving a kiss on her left hand that burns her skin from then till morning.

Jeff joins the musician in the dining room right after the girl walks away to her room, he takes a seat across from him and scrutinises the look of adoration his friend still sports once she is out of the room.

"She'll never know, if you never tell her." Jeff is right, but the thought alone of going through that again scares him to death. Or so he says, because there's a part of him that is fond of the thrill it makes him feel.

"It's not like I haven't tried, just last year I told her," Harry remembers that night vividly, how pretty she looked even with her makeup all smudged under her eyes. "I'm not sure if she heard, it was too loud like where we were at the time." He was also pissed out of his mind.

"H, there's nothing wrong with being in love."

"I'm not saying it is, but even if she did love me I– I would find a way to hurt her. Anyway. she's happily married now, it's too late." Saying it out loud doesn't hurt him any less like he thought it would. Harry sighs in defeat before rising from the chair, "she's everything to me, I wouldn't mess with her head by confessing my feelings, deep down I always knew she deserved better and now she has it and that's good enough for me." The musician disappears through the corridor where his everlasting love did just a few minutes ago, he paused for a moment outside her room, pondering whether to barge in and just follow his instincts, kiss her like he should've done after winning that award back in 2014.

Harry shakes his head and goes straight to his room, he reminds himself that it was time to let her go. It's for the best. He is not good enough for her, he can't even write a song for her, about her. He mustn't love her that much then.

What Harry doesn't know is that he can't write a song about her because he loves her too much, the poor lad can't even figure out where to start. But he's about to get rid of that curse in a day or two, he just needs to be patient.

The reward for it came, all of a sudden Harry wrote too many songs about her until she inevitably became aware of the situation they were in. Harry vowed to stay away from Jane’s life after recording the album. He dated people that didn’t remind him of her, and even moved temporarily to Japan. But despite all his efforts, four years later Harry still finds himself thinking about her, everything seems to be tainted by her. The music he adores, the new dinner recipes he cooks, the books he chooses to read.

Completely out of options he agreed to this blind date his friends set up for him.

He arrives at the modest restaurant they so kindly chose for the occasion. “All you have to do is wear something nice and show up.” Alexa reminded him over the phone last week.

This is a new first for him, it is also exciting, to take a seat at a table for two conveniently placed at the back, pretend to pay attention to the menu but let his green eyes avert to whoever approaches. Harry is having a great time, he knows that soon his date will arrive. He wonders what they’ll be like.

According to Alexa and Pixie, the person arriving is the perfect match for their young friend. Harry can only hope they like Vietnamese cuisine because that’s apparently this place’s special offer this week. If he’s lucky enough the date will agree to share a starter and perhaps two main courses, that way he doesn’t have to choose between one or the other.

“Here’s your table.” Harry hears the waiter speak and his gaze meets a very familiar figure standing beside him. It can’t be.

“Excuse me, there must be a mistake, I’m waiting for someone else.” Harry protests.

The waiter shakes his head and shows him the notepad with some specifications written down. “Nothing wrong, got specific instructions from Miss Chung, a lady will come in to say is here for Geldolf’s blind date, you are sitting at the table they reserved. I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.” He is quick to explain and disappear.

Jane sits because there is no way she can stand any longer, her legs are about to give out from the commotion. This was not the blind date she was expecting either. It’s been at least four years since she last saw Harry. The night after he finally admitted being in love with her, waiting for a reaction, anything from her, after what seemed like hours but was only ten minutes later, he walked out of her house and entire life, leaving her confused and upset.

“How’ve you been?” she asked after confirming that Harry wasn’t going to up and leave.

“Pretty fantastic, until you arrived.” He’s never spoken to her like that before, with so much affliction in his tone. “What are you doing here?”

“I was set up on a blind date by Pixie—

He interrupts her. “That’s fucking convenient, did you all went to this much trouble, just to mock me? I thought they were my friends, you know, that even after everything, they cared about me.” Harry stops, his voice breaks, he’s so angry, hurt and confused by the situation. “Did your husband come along, to witness my humiliation too?” He looks around, trying to find the man of Jane’s dreams.

“I wouldn’t know if he’s here, haven’t seen him since we got divorced three years ago.” She snaps before hiding behind the menu from a gobsmacked Harry.

The words he’d been waiting to hear were finally out of her mouth. Unlike the million times he dreamt about this happening, Harry is not sweeping her off her feet and running away into the sunset holding her hand. Instead he reaches out to touch her arm, testing the waters. He waits for her to lower the menu and surprisingly there are no tears in her eyes. Perhaps only a bit of sorrow that is quickly replaced with confusion, at how fast her heart raced after Harry’s touch.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is back to oozing the tenderness he reserves just for her. Jane nods.

“But can we share a rice bowl and Pho noodle soup?”

“Yes, and dessert too!” Even after four years Harry’s sweet tooth hasn’t changed, Jane sighs before the waiter is back to take their order.

Keeping a conversation between the two of them is not hard at all, even if it is an awkward topic —her not so recent divorce. “We didn’t have anything in common anymore, there were so many fights every single day. When I finally suggested the separation, he seemed relieved and I felt like a complete fool.” Jane remembers the sigh of comfort that came out of the man she once loved with all her heart before that rainy afternoon, when she finally decided that she’d had enough. “He left that night, hadn’t seen him since, his lawyer took care of everything,” a sour laugh escapes her lips, Harry’s eyes are full of sympathy for her. “I’m sorry for ruining your blind date, I know you’ve never been to one before.” Of course she did, she knows him better than anyone.

“This has to be the greatest date I’ve ever been to.” He speaks without a second thought.

All those years Harry spent away from Jane were not going to be in vain. He was not going to neglect the feelings he still had for her. That affection he felt for her, only her. Harry shifts in his seat, this is not at all how he planned it, in a restaurant full of people on fucking Valentine’s day. It almost seemed like a tacky move.

But after all this time of pining for her, hating her and himself at times. Harry was brave enough, it was now or never, he didn’t want to wait any longer, not after his friends schemed and executed this soppy plan to bring the two soulmates together. Before she could take the final bite of dessert that Harry kindly left for her. The world stopped.

“I don’t want this to end...” Harry says with a dimpled smile she can’t look away from. “I’d like to take you out on a second date, a third, fourth, fifth. Believe me when I tell you, I have planned up to a thousand of them.” He takes her hand in his and can feel her pulse race along his own. The smile splits his face again, because he knows, he feels, he sees it in her beautiful eyes. “Janey, you’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to hold on to. I know there is a name for this emotion, I’ve written songs about it, but now I don’t think it’s a word big enough for us.”

She squeezes his hand and breaths out a laugh, tears of joy brimming out of her eyes. “Let’s call it love, until we come up with a better name for it.” Harry agrees and just then, Jane brings up his hand to her lips.

His skin tingles where she kisses him for the first time and he beams at her.

There’s a first for everything, and although it feels like it for Jane and Harry, this isn’t by any means the first time they confess their love for each other. It was always there, in every laugh they shared, every song they wrote together, every touch. It was on Harry’s unwavering devotion, on his impatience and selfless actions throughout the years.

They were bound to be together, their story didn’t begin on that initial blind date, it did years ago after he caught a glimpse of her shiny black hair on the morning she moved into the house across the street.

Harry drives her back to her new flat on the other side of the city, enjoying every minute of the long ride, happy to hear her ramble about her newest obsession with romantic novels and burst out laughing after Jane confesses that sometimes she doesn’t finish reading books she likes, just to pretend the story keeps going. With a quick kiss to the back of her hand he completely agrees.

No tale is more compelling than one that never ends.

#1dffvalentine #harry styles

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