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pathologicalreid · 5 months ago

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for the fear of falling apart | part four

you missed the paperwork that said joining the BAU meant having an unstable personal life, and Cat Adams is dedicated to making sure you know nothing is ever private

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who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst content warnings: fear of drowning, couples counseling, spencer's mommy issues, takes place during 15x6 "date night", pregnancy and miscarriage, stillbirth, sexual assault, way too many ellipses, suicide, attempted murder, reader's daddy issues, details from the dirty dozen plotline, mishandled apologies, a lot of yapping, near drowning, disassociation, self harm word count: 9.75k a/n: i hate cat adams so much but god she is so funny in this episode. also cat and spencer shippers are not welcome. why does he look so good in this gif. this is the extent of my coherent thoughts.

“I just made the bed,” you complained halfheartedly, still allowing yourself to be tugged over to the bed despite your protests.

Climbing up on the bed, you tucked yourself into Spencer’s side, so cold after getting out of bed that you wished you could absorb his body heat. “C’mere,” he muttered, placing his hands on either side of your waist and pulling you over him, the two of you meeting face to face. “Hi pretty,” he greeted, craning his head up to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

You smiled slightly against his lips, ducking your head so that your mouths never separated. Mornings away from the bureau were few and far between, so you weren’t interested in wasting a single moment. “Good morning,” you whispered before bringing your lips back to his.

When the phone started to ring, Spencer’s hands fell from your waist in disappointment. He leaned his head back while you rolled off the bed and handed him his phone which he begrudgingly answered, “Hey, what’s up?”

With the phone on speaker, you heard Emily’s voice ring through the phone, “We have a case, it’s urgent,” concern oozed through her tone as you pulled your blazer on over your blouse.

“Alright, we’ll be right in,” he responded for the both of you. Most of the time, they only needed to call one of you.

Emily cleared her throat, “Spencer, there’s something you need to know.”

The thirty-minute drive from the district to Quantico was silent. You decided to drive, not wanting to worry about the metro when there was so much on the line. Barely having put the car in park, Spencer was already flying out of the car and to the elevator.

Several questions rested like a weight on the tip of your tongue and part of you hoped that this was all part of a morbid prank, but you knew when it came to Cat, it was never a joke. Purposefully being the first two people there, you followed Spencer to where Prentiss and Rossi were waiting in the roundtable room, “Catch us up,” he said, walking through the doorway and beginning to study the information on the screen.

“Early this morning Garcia got an email from an anonymous server,” Emily began, looking between the both of you with concern in her eyes.

Dave nodded next to her, “She’s not obscuring her face, telling us she’s got nothing to hide.”

Next to you, Spencer nodded, slipping both of his hands into his pockets, “Any ideas on the victims or UnSub?”

Chewing nervously on the inside of your lip, you looked at the screen carefully. The photo displayed two girls, one of them a teenager, maybe eighteen, and the other couldn’t be much older than ten. You didn’t speak, waiting for the words that you have heard over the phone to be spoken in person.

“No, only the UnSub’s demand that we release Catherine Adams within twenty-four hours. I’m having her transferred here for questioning,” she informed Spencer, “But we have no illusions. This is just a game to her, we know that. The question is, do we want to play it or not?”

In your periphery, you watched the remaining members of the team funnel into the bullpen, each of them placing their belongings on their respective desks before setting up for the day. Glancing back at Spencer, you shrugged almost indeterminably, “Do we have a choice?”

Spencer met your stare before looking back at Emily and Rossi, “Could you guys give us a minute?”

The both of them nodded, switching off the screen before heading out, presumably to begin briefing the remainder of the unit. You listened to the click of the door, waiting for Spencer to say anything.

“I don’t want you in there,” he told you.

You weren’t shocked by his request. When he was released from prison he had wanted to keep you near, going so far as to have you fly with him and your sister to Mount Pleasant because after three months he couldn’t bear to be separated. However, he didn’t want you in the observation room, so you stayed on the sidelines while he spoke with Cat, only hearing bits and pieces after the fact.

Once you nodded, Spencer took a deep breath, “I don’t want her to be able to use you against me. If she even gets the slightest idea that you’re behind the glass… I don’t know what she’ll do.”

Most members of the BAU had their One. The one UnSub that would likely haunt them for the rest of their lives, for Emily it was Ian Doyle, for Rossi it was Tommy Yates, and for Spencer it was Cat. “I’ll stay in the bullpen,” you reassured him, “I won’t leave the building, but I don’t need to listen in.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, pressing a timid kiss to your hairline before looking over to where Emily was waving him over.

Grimly, you followed Spencer out of the roundtable room, armed guards pouring through the elevator, signifying that the eagle had landed. You stopped at the glass doors, nestling yourself behind a wall – you didn’t need to see her, and she didn’t deserve to see you.

“She’s a contract killer?” Matt questioned as Spencer, Emily, and Rossi headed to the interrogation room. The only member of the team who hadn’t been around while Spencer was in Millburn, and the only member of the team with no experience with Cat Adams. In your gut, you felt a tug of envy.

Penelope nodded nervously, “She’s much, much more than that.” Her voice wavered slightly. Garcia had her own issues with Cat Adams, months of living in the BAU had left her worse for wear, but it was the best option while being hunted by a group of hit men.

You watched the members of the team as their eyes followed Cat around the hallway. “She’s a black widow,” JJ clarified for Simmons, “She preys on men she can seduce. She thrives on psychological seduction.” Her words made your stomach flip as you remembered everything she had put Spencer through in Mexico and subsequently prison – it was psychological warfare, and he was being sent into the lion’s den.

Luke nodded along to the narrative, “She has a body count that she’s never confirmed, but it’s believed to be in the hundreds.” Last time you had given tallying them up a chance you had almost reached two hundred, but she was only being criminally charged with seventy-three counts.

“She’s one of the most dangerous criminals we’ve ever arrested,” Tara admitted, “and she is obsessed with Reid.”

The group took a collective breath when Cat was fully in the interrogation room, “He’s the only man to ever outsmart her,” you continued. As much as he hated to admit it, everything she had ever said to Spencer had hit its mark, and you felt like your insides were being shredded at the knowledge that he was in there with her.

You flipped through Cat’s prison records once you were sat at your desk, looking up at any slight moment at the hope that someone might tell you what was going on. The prison records were relatively tame outside of what you already knew about her and Wilkins and her involvement with Lindsay Vaughn, but something you hadn’t thought about was her baby.

Spencer had broken the hard truth to Cat that day in Mount Pleasant, she couldn’t be a good mother. Her psychopathy would make it so that she would grow bored with a baby the same way a child would bore of a doll. You wondered how she viewed her miscarriage. Some psychopaths had the capacity to mourn, but you weren’t sure Cat fell within that demographic.

Her medical record painted a horrifying picture. She had been so far along that the baby had been delivered stillborn. Your stomach flipped at the charts, closing them before moving to the kitchenette to refill your coffee.

On your way, you saw Spencer through the glass doors, changing course so you could catch him before he went back. You veered around the corner, not wanting to call out his name before he turned into an interview room. Lagging behind, you kept yourself hidden, feeling like you were intruding and starting to walk backward, away from him.

Until you heard a crash and a shout, at which point you pivoted and returned to the interview room. A few agents started rubbernecking at the door, trying to see what was going on, “Keep walking,” you ordered them, pointing away from the room.

Inside the room, Spencer had haphazardly discarded his tie on the floor before proceeding to swipe everything off of the bookshelf. He didn’t acknowledge you as you stepped into the room, he just paced, placing his hand on his chest as he tried to self-regulate.

You tried to go around him, wanting to pick up the fallen books before anyone noticed what had happened, but before you could, Spencer grabbed your hand and pulled you into him. Getting over the initial startle, you reached out your arms and wrapped them around him, “I’m right here.”

“I’m struggling,” he admitted to you, holding you tightly against him. His time in prison felt like lifetimes ago at this point, but the way he hugged you reminded you of the day he got out – the last time you had to deal with Cat Adams.

His openness about his feelings helped to ease your own anxiety, and you were able to look up at him and offer a comforting smile, “That’s alright. This isn’t easy.” You kept your eyes on him, readjusting his rumpled collar and messy hair, “Why don’t you go get some water? I’ll take care of this,” you offered, holding your hand up when he tried to protest.

Spencer left without a fight, and you tried to reassemble the books and trinkets in the way they had previously been before wiping your palms on your jeans and walking back into the bullpen.

The team was gathering in the roundtable room, exchanging information and proposing ideas, “The victimology’s off,” Spencer said, gesturing to the screen where the two girls were being displayed.

“How so?” Tara asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing between your fiancé and the screen.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, “Two young girls. She’s never done anything like this before.”

Agreeing, Tara looked around the table, “She usually targets men that remind her of her father. Children, even adult children are off limits.” She turned to Penelope, “Do we have an ID yet?”

Waving a fuzzy pen in the air, Penelope sighed, “You would think a parent or someone would notice, but there’s nothing coming up in any of my searches.”

“What do we know about the partner who’s been helping her?” Rossi asked no one in particular, looking to anyone who might have an answer.

Matt leaned his elbows over the table, “It’s gotta be someone from her prison. She wasn’t in contact with anyone else. We can start with known associates who were recently released,” he looked to Garcia, who nodded astutely before typing furiously on her laptop.

You spoke up from the doorway, slipping Spencer’s discarded tie into your back pocket, “I have a list going of associates at Mount Pleasant, we can do some comparing and contrasting,” you offered.

“Oh, I do love a good Venn diagram,” Penelope concurred, smiling before scooping up her laptop and making her way back to the lair.

Taking her seat, you uncomfortably sat next to JJ, leaning your knees toward Rossi so that you didn’t accidentally touch her legs. “Okay, can I tell you what’s been bugging me?” Your sister asked rhetorically, “Every time we’ve gone up against Cat, there’s the presenting agenda and the hidden one. If she sticks to pattern, this isn’t just about going on a date with Spencer.”

You considered the idea of her not having a secondary agenda but she had already veered so far off from her usual M.O. that everything else needed to follow the arbitrary rules in her mind.

“Right now, she’s a fixed variable,” Emily counseled, “We need to focus on identifying the UnSub and her victims.”

At that, everyone parted ways except for you and Spencer, you stayed flipping through folders of research you had on Cat Adams, ranging from her time as Miss .45 to her years in Mount Pleasant Women’s Correctional Facility. Spencer stood, hands on the back of your chair as he looked at the pictures being projected on the screen.

Every time Cat Adams came up, each topic you even slightly associated with her resurfaced – Diana’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis, Mexico, Millburn, and now the two of you were just barely recovering from the fallout of your sister’s truth. You were overwhelmed, and if you were overwhelmed, Spencer had to be on the verge of some kind of breakdown.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered despite the empty room, “Tell me what to do.”

You took a deep breath before turning your head and looking up at him, “I can’t tell you what to do. This is your decision.”

He sighed, lowering himself down in the chair next to you and resting his chin in his hand, “Then don’t tell me what to do, but I would like your input. Your thoughts, feelings,” he amended.

Smiling despite yourself, you looked over at him, “Someone’s paying attention in couple’s therapy,” you said lightly, setting your hand gently on his knee.

“I just need to know if we’re on the same page or if I’m going to mess everything up,” he said, bringing his free hand to where yours rested and threading your fingers together.

You leaned back in the office chair, shrugging slightly before you answered, “I think you should go.”

Spencer frowned, “What?”

“I think you should go on the date with Cat,” you iterated.

Clearly, that wasn’t what he had expected from you, “I don’t- You want me to go on a date with someone else?”

You flipped your file shut before looking back at him, “If I had the liberty to look at this situation as just your fiancé I would, but I’m not just your fiancé. I’m an FBI agent and I’m looking at these girls,” you gestured to the screen, “and I know that our best chance of finding them might just be sending you on a date with Cat.” You took a deep breath, “She always trips up and she always does it with you. It’s your call, at the end of the day, you don’t need to go if it’s not something you want to have to experience, but you asked for my thoughts, so there they are.”

Spencer looked conflicted as he considered his options, “I’ve- We’ve come so far recently. I’d hate to ruin all of that.”

Shaking your head, you smiled at his concern, “Solving the case has to come first this time, love.”

He nodded in agreement, standing up and keeping your hands intertwined, “Come with me,” he encouraged, nearly dragging you over to the interrogation room where Cat was. He opened the door to the observation room and brought you in with him.

You averted your eyes so that you didn’t have to look at her – possibly the only woman you would throttle given the chance – and just waited for Emily, who was getting more details.

Waiting for the door to close behind her, Spencer listened for the click before speaking up, “Well, what are her demands?”

Emily looked exasperated, sharing a look with you before responding, “She wants to go ice skating so she can skate circles around you. She’s wasting our time.”

And her own, you thought, Cat didn’t have much time to make an arrangement with Spencer, eventually, she’d just be sent back to prison. Ice skating would never get approved anyway. No matter how you try to spin it, no one would give her a blade.

The door opened, taking attention away from Cat and onto Penelope, who looked confused and mildly disturbed, “Okay,” she started, “Something weird happened, but it could be a lead. I just got a bazillion voicemail messages, all from the same address on Fourth Street.”

While Tara and Luke checked out the potential lead on Fourth, you stayed sat at your desk, listening carefully to the bustling office around you. Up in Emily’s office, you heard your sister and Simmons updating your unit chief, “We found the UnSub, her name is Juliette Weaver – it took the prison all of five minutes to identify her.”

You filtered through your file in front of you, looking for the information you had on Weaver while Matt continued speaking, “She was Cat’s old cellmate. Released from prison six months ago, off the grid a week ago.”

“What was she in for?” Rossi asked and you wondered if they knew how well voices carried into the bullpen.

Matt cleared his throat before responding, “Low-level possession, she took the rap for her boyfriend, but according to the warden, she’d follow Cat around like a puppy dog.”

Your unit chief hummed thoughtfully, “Easily manipulated. So, Cat groomed her, got her to take orders.” Much like she had done with Lindsey Vaughn, convincing her to destroy Spencer’s life – you wondered if Juliette considered Cat her lover too.

“It goes deeper than that,” JJ interjected, “Cat and Juliette have something in common.”

“Juliette’s dad killed her mom in a domestic dispute. Then he fled and was never caught,” Matt resumed, surprising you.

As you imagined the surprise on Emily’s face, she responded, “That’s exactly what happened with Cat’s parents.”

You watched them in the office as Matt set something down on Emily’s desk, “Yeah, so we did a little digging into Susan. We thought that she might’ve been Juliette’s mom, but she’s not.”

“She’s Cat’s,” Rossi realized.

Matt hummed in confirmation, “Susan Adams, unidentified cold case from 1987. She was found floating in the water on the Potomac. Thanks to that picture, the case isn’t cold anymore.”

Turning your attention back to the information you had on Cat’s former cellmates, you looked over Juliette’s personal information. There wasn’t much on her, but there were some details about her family – including two younger sisters. You would likely need Garcia to confirm it for you, but you had a good feeling that the two girls being held captive were Juliette’s sisters. If that was Juliette’s stake in this, you were no closer to figuring out what Cat’s endgame was.

Looking up at your computer, you thought about the first time Spencer and Cat had gone head-to-head. It had been almost four years to the date. You frowned at your monitor, “It’s an anniversary,” you whispered to no one in particular.

“What was that?” Luke asked from his desk, adjusting his Kevlar vest as he prepared to be the chaperone for the date.

Double-checking the dates, you turned to face him as you clarified, “Four years, almost to the date of the day Spencer arrested Cat.”

Luke nodded in understanding, “That’s why she chose now to act. It wasn’t just that she was running out of time, this was the perfect time for her to get into Reid’s mind.”

Scoffing, you gathered up your papers and walked up to Emily’s office, if Cat wanted to meddle, fine, but you could play her game too.

Four years, you thought to yourself. Spencer had been on family leave for months, and taking down Cat was his first case back. You wish you had known back then how much that case would affect the next four years of his life.

The team gathered when it was time, the remaining eight standing outside of the glass doors to the unit and watching and Spencer and Cat strolled through the hallway. She had been cleaned up, some poor agent sent out to find a date-appropriate outfit for her, and she was holding onto Spencer like he was a prize she had won at a fair.

Spencer’s face was blank. No, worse than that, he was completely absent. Separating himself from what was going on with Cat. It horrified you, every time you saw Spencer retreat into himself it made you sick to your stomach. You were grateful Luke was going with them, he was someone Spencer trusted to make the right calls.

For the first time that day, you and Cat locked eyes, glaring at each other in a battle of wills, “Don’t wait up,” she called out to you, winking before the heavy elevator doors slid shut.

Slowly, your group dispersed, going back to trying to figure out Cat and Juliette’s endgame. You looked at your files, but you couldn’t focus, you could barely breathe. Spencer would be safe. He was smart enough to evade anything Cat threw at him, but she seemed to chip at him every time they saw each other.

You swung in your office chair, trying to form an even semi-helpful thought as your sister came up to your desk, “Hey.”

Peeling your eyes away from the folders, you looked up at her, “Hi,” you responded, slightly confused.

JJ sat on the edge of your desk, crossing her ankles so her legs didn’t dangle, and she looked at you, blonde hair curtained around her face.

There wasn’t much for you to do until the date started and Spencer could fish for answers with Cat, but even so, you weren’t interested in holding a staring contest with your sister. “Did you need anything?” You felt like it was a gentle enough question, there was no reason for you to bring your hostile family relationship to work with you. Everyone knew there was something happening between the two of you, but no one knew precisely what it was.

Her eyebrows creased briefly, “I thought we could talk, just for a minute.”

You unceremoniously dropped your pen on your desk, leaning back and looking at your sister incredulously, “Kind of shit timing, don’t you think?”

“I invited you for dinner last night and you didn’t show up. Every time I come up to you at work you start a conversation with someone else,” she tried to explain herself.

It was exactly as she thought – you were avoiding her. You had no interest in repairing your familial tie, your thread of gold had frayed beyond repair. “I was busy last night, I told you I wouldn’t be able to make it. You’re the one who didn’t believe me.”

She sighed defeatedly, “Thursdays used to be your best night. You’d always come for dinner on Thursday nights like clockwork, are you telling me that changed overnight?”

You bit your tongue, but it wasn’t that you were trying to stop yourself from sniping at her, you were trying to stop yourself from telling her where you were last night. Thursday evening was your weekly couples counseling appointment and your sister didn’t need to be privy to the inner workings of your relationship. Besides that, none of this had been overnight – you hadn’t been over for dinner in months now.

For every single milestone that you reached with Spencer, JJ was the first person you told, but when you got engaged, she found out the news secondhand through Penelope. You knew you had hurt her. Maybe it wasn’t the same as her love confession, but you hurt her, and you couldn’t bring yourself to apologize. You weren’t entirely sure if you should apologize.

“I’m telling you that I didn’t snub you on dinner, JJ. I was busy, I couldn’t come,” you told her, keeping your tone level as you looked up at her.

Her expression soured, “How long are you going to be mad at me?”

Forever, if you could help it, but you couldn’t tell her that. Despite your anger, despite the sadness that thinking too hard about all of this brought you, you knew that you weren’t capable of holding your sister at arm’s length for the rest of your life. “JJ, I’m not-“ you cut yourself off. “When I found out that you were in love with Spencer, I promised myself that I wouldn’t hold it against you,” you lowered your voice, conscious of the bustling bullpen around you. “I’ve kept that promise. I can’t blame you for loving him when I know everything he has ever done that makes him loveable. I love him too. So, in whatever convoluted way you want to look at it, I understand where you’re coming from.”

She nodded in what seemed like agreement, “Ducky, I’ve known him for fifteen years, I couldn’t-“

“You see,” you interrupted her, “That’s where my understanding runs out. Just because you’ve known him longer doesn’t give you the right to come into our relationship and fuck everything up. Yes, Jennifer, you’ve known him for fifteen years, but you rejected him. You rejected him and ended up with someone else. Thirteen years after meeting Will, you told Spencer you were in love with him. Do you know how wrong that is?”

JJ’s shoulders slumped forward, “Yes, but-“

You held up your hand, stopping her from speaking, “No, JJ. There’s no ‘but’. What you did was wrong. You can try to justify it to me in whatever way you want, but what you did will always be wrong. It will always affect our relationship. Your love for Spencer is the ghost haunting our house and there are no Ouija boards in the world that can translate for me,” You cringed at your figure of speech, but you went along with it anyway.

“You’re engaged, so there’s obviously a way through this for the two of you,” she tried to argue, but you could tell her heart wasn’t in it.

Pausing, you picked at the dry skin around your nails, “Spencer and I had a really long and exhaustive talk a few weeks ago.”

She raised her eyebrows, “I know, I read the police blotter.”

You rolled your eyes, that hadn’t been a fun talk with Emily, but at least she prevented your dispute from reaching HR. “Yeah, we had a loud talk. We figured things out. We’re still figuring things out, but we decided that we’d rather do that together than apart.”

“I helped him pick the ring,” she confessed. “About a year ago and I thought… I thought he’d tell me before asking.”

Instinctively, your eyes flicked down to your left hand, “For what it’s worth, it was all very spur of the moment.”

JJ shook her head, “Why are you trying to comfort me right now?”

“God, JJ. I might be pissed at you, but you’re still my sister,” you snapped at her. “While I might want to, I can’t just cut you out of my life and I can’t stop myself from caring about you. If you want to work on our relationship, owning up to your mistakes is a good start. Spencer came clean to me and now we’re engaged, but that doesn’t negate the fact that this was broken in the first place. You don’t get to brush this under the rug.”

“You wouldn’t let me brush it under the rug anyway,” she retorted.

Your head snapped up to her, “Is that what you want? To forget any of this ever happened?”

She was quiet for a while before responding, “Yes.”

You pressed your lips together and studied her briefly, “Well, I can’t give you that.”

JJ opened her mouth like she wanted to say something else, but Emily beat her to it, calling out to you from the doorway of her office, “Do you have a second?”

The ceiling of your apartment was only interesting for a limited amount of time. You’d spent years in the apartment, tracing the patterns with your eyes just felt redundant now.

Emily had benched you. She disguised it as giving you the rest of the night off, but you were effectively taken off the case. She couldn’t claim it was a conflict of interest, everyone on the team had a conflict of interest with Cat Adams, but that’s what she thought it was.

You sat down on the couch, drumming your fingers on your denim-clad thigh while you waited for a phone call – you’d even take a text message.

Wallowing in your own boredom, you listened to the sounds of the city. Where the two of you lived, it was hectic during the day and became more manageable at night, but it was still the city. Cars drove by, sirens wailed, people chatted along the sidewalk, and people spoke in the hallway.

No, actually, people talking in your hallway was abnormal. Sitting up, you looked at the front door, considering going to snoop in on your neighbor’s conversation.

You didn’t even have the time to decide before the door opened, revealing Spencer and Cat in the middle of what seemed like a rather intense kiss.

He pulled away, looking into the apartment and seeming surprised to see you.

Standing up, your arms dangled limply at your sides, “Oh, Spence.”

Holding up a finger, he silently begged you to wait. You couldn’t hear anything that came out of his mouth, everything was muffled as you fought back the tears that were burning your eyes.

You didn’t talk again until Cat spoke to you. “What?”

She laughed slightly and you could hear your heart pounding, “Did it make you mad when I kissed your fiancé?”

You hated her. Your mother would tell you that hate is a strong word, and you still didn’t care, you hated her. “No,” you lied through your teeth.

Innocently, her eyebrows raised, “Why not?”

Four years. Four years of her haunting Spencer. You thought back to that first meeting at the restaurant and responded, “No offense, but you’re not really worth getting mad at.”

Her eyes lit up and even though you knew better, you were proud of yourself for striking a nerve. With a psychopath, that was a dangerous game. Before long, she meandered around the furniture in your home and sat in the reading chair, she looked at you, “Oh, sweetheart, we have so much to talk about. I’m so glad Spencie finally decided to introduce us.”

Anxiously, your eyes flicked over to Spencer’s. Worse than your own anxiety, he looked angry, an uncommon expression for him to wear. “It’s nice to have a real conversation with you,” you gratified her.

“Normally, Spencie and I, we spend our time together playing games, but tonight I want you both here to make a point,” she watched Spencer as the two of you waited for the ball to drop. “You could do so much better, because girl,” she turned to look at you, “You need to know the truth about him.”

Pinching your brows together, you looked at Cat, “What are you talking about?”

She smiled to herself, flipping her brown hair over her shoulder, “He told me that no matter what, he can’t get me out of his mind.”

“Everything I said to her tonight was a lie,” Spencer interjected, doing damage control on your relationship while Cat tried to take it apart.

Cat scoffed, “Did our kiss look like a lie?”

There was a time when Spencer was under the impression that he had been sexually assaulted by Cat in Mexico, and during that time, you were afraid of him hurting himself. You were in the lion’s den with him now and you had to rely on your gut. He wouldn’t kiss her unless it was his last resort. He wouldn’t do that to himself. He wouldn’t do that to you. Still, you forced yourself to look at him and answer her question, “No.”

“Thank you, now we’re getting to the heart of the matter,” she resumed smugly, obviously pleased with your response and she stood up, putting her hands on everything around the apartment. “You see, everyone thinks that Dr. Spencer Reid is- is just this nice, bookish, uh, genius who uh, always saves the day and has all the answers and has… zero mommy issues, right?” She pointedly tipped over a photo of Diana before she continued flouncing around the apartment, “But um, I know the real him.”

Spencer looked at her incredulously and you wished you could hear what he was thinking at that moment, “Yeah? Who’s the real me, Cat?”

She cocked her head at you, the faux pity in her eyes made you nauseous, “The real Spencer Reid throws women against walls and hisses that he’s going to kill them.”

He faltered and you knew she had hit her mark, “That was a very different situation.”

“Was it?” She challenged, looking at him for a rebuttal, but the vacant look was coming back to his eyes.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you met his eyes, “What is she talking about?”

You had been in Mount Pleasant that day. For all of the things she knew about, she didn’t know that you had been there, and you could use that against her, but you’d likely hurt Spencer in the process.

“You tell her,” Cat insisted, “She’s not gonna believe it coming from me.” With a flourish, she sat back down in the chair, crossing her legs as she watched her entertainment for the night.

Spencer pursed his lips, leaning forward as his eyes flicked between the two of you, “Just like tonight, she got under my skin and-“

“You threw her against a wall,” you finished, displaying your comprehension of the story to Cat and reminding Spencer that you already knew.

Cat stood back up, dragging a hand along your shoulders, sending goosebumps sprawling across your skin. “Don’t skimp on the details, Spencie,” she goaded him. “She deserves to know everything.”

The terrible feeling you’d had all day worsened as you realized where she was going with this. It was the natural continuation of the story for her even if it wasn’t the truth.

“She was pregnant at the time, and I knew that when I hurt her,” Spencer admitted, the shame he felt emanating from him in waves.

You’re not like that, baby. You’re not a violent person, you remembered telling him. You wanted to tell him that now, but she’d never let you.

Cat looked at you, a devilish glint in her eye as she rounded out her fabrication, “And the next day I miscarried. The end.”

Your breathing hitched as you saw Spencer retreat completely into himself, “What? That’s not true.”

Her head snapped over to him, “It most certainly is true, check my medical records.”

“That doesn’t- I would-“ He stuttered, but it was too late.

“Stop,” she interjected, nodding her head in your direction, “Look.”

You were choking on the truth. You wanted to scream at her and simultaneously tell Spencer that she was lying to him. The words weren’t coming out, the only thing you had were tears. They were streaming down your face as you looked at nobody and nothing, sitting on your hands.

No one said anything for a while before Spencer sat down, keeping his distance from you, “I’m sorry.”

“Notice how your fiancé is apologizing to you and not me,” Cat instructed you, you peered up at her through wet eyelashes. “Men are all the same, aren’t they Ducky?”

Spencer jumped to your defense as you blanched at the nickname, “Don’t call her that,” he snapped.

Cat inclined her head toward him, “What, are you going to throw me up against the wall and choke me or do you only do that to pregnant women?”

Of all of the things for Cat to know about you, your childhood nickname wasn’t what you expected. You looked at her and met her eyes through your bleary ones, “Why are you doing this?”

You regretted the question as soon as you asked it, but you couldn’t take it back now, “Because I want you to see it,” she explained. “I want you to see that he is no better than all the men you chase. All the men who have hurt you before.”

“Stop,” you pleaded, staring at the floor in front of you.

Cat crouched next to you, forcing you to look her in the eyes, “I can see it in your face. Why did you flinch when I used your nickname?”

Your nostrils flared, “It’s none of your business,” you insisted.

She laughed at your attempted assertion, “Oh, but it is. In fact, it’s my specialty. Is he nearby? I could send Juliette over to say hi,” she offered.

“Say yes,” Spencer interjected, “Give her what she wants.”

Glaring at him, Cat waved him off, “He wants you to get me to make a phone call so they can trace it. You’re so good, the BAU.”

You shook your head helplessly, “I never wanted to be involved in this sick, twisted game between the two of you.” Even still, you had never been given the choice. Emily sent you home under the guise of waiting out the date only for it to be a trap.

Cat mock-pouted, “Tell me your story, Ducky, and I promise I will give Juliette a call and those two girls will be safe and sound.”

And that was the end of it. You couldn’t let your cowardice cost those girls their lives – or whatever Cat had planned for them.

“Come on, little duck,” she prodded at you, “It’s story time.”

Spencer shook his head, “Y/N, it’s a trap.”

Scoffing, Cat sat next to you, “It is so tricky, isn’t it? I mean, who are you gonna trust? The lying, cheating, violent psychopath… or me?”

Desperately, you looked up at Spencer and his face fell as he realized what you were doing. “My sister gave it to me,” you told her.

Impishly, she smiled, “Jennifer?”

“No,” you answered, “Roslyn, and don’t interrupt.” You frowned, piling your hands in your lap as you searched for the story. “I don’t remember it, but when I was learning how to walk I… waddled. So, when I would walk around Roz would follow me and make duck sounds, and I would mimic her. She started calling me Ducky after that and it just stuck.”

She smiled at you knowingly, “That is so sweet. How could you hate such a heartfelt nickname from your dearly departed sister?”

You shook your head, “I don’t hate it,” you insisted.

Cat cocked her head at you, “Tell me,” she goaded. “Tell me or I ruin her life.”

Quickly, you looked up at Spencer and made sure he caught the slip up too. The two of you shared a suspicious look before you continued, “My parents put me in school early, I started kindergarten when I was four and I learned early that kids were cruel. They would follow me around and quack,” you laughed despite yourself, what had seemed heinous as a child would barely make you spare a glance as an adult. “One day, we were doing a class craft, and they put glue and feathers on my seat so they stuck to my skirt when I stood up,” you told her, recalling the way your poor mother had to leave work to help you pick feathers from your skirt.

Next to you, Cat lifted a hand to her mouth, fake yawning as she waited for you to get to the man of it all.

“When she got home, I yelled at Roslyn,” You’d spiraled about this so many times in adulthood that you were surprised it had any effect on you anymore. “I told her I hated her. I told her she was a bad sister, and I wanted her to go away,” you admitted, fighting off tears again. “She skipped dinner that night and the next morning she… JJ found her. In the bathroom. She had slit her wrists with our father’s razor blade.”

Spencer’s brown eyes bore into you, reflecting the same sadness that you were sure was on your own face, “You were only four, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t help,” Cat snarked.

“Cat,” Spencer snapped.

Frustrated, you wiped under your eyes, “My dad blamed me. He told me he would give me up if it meant she would come back, and he’s maintained that sentiment ever since.” You knew now that there were other things Roslyn had been struggling with at the time, but part of you would always have the nagging feeling that you had a role in your sister’s suicide.

“So, you understand me,” she said matter-of-factly.

Confused, you lifted your head to look at her, “What?”

She scooted closer to you, “You understand why I’ve killed all of them. Those men,” she clarified.”

You looked at her, “No, Cat, I don’t understand you. I hate my dad, but I don’t want to kill him. I don’t prey on the deaths of the people that I hate, and that’s the difference between me and you. I want my dad to have to live with the fact that he’s a horrible person. I want him to live with what he did to me, to my family.”

Cat narrowed her eyes at you, “And he didn’t even visit you after you got shot.”

Out of guilt, you had assumed. His guilty conscience was the only thing that kept him away. After all, almost thirty years of telling you that it should’ve been you, the universe almost came through for him. “Give me the location,” you said, holding her to her end of the bargain.

Groaning, she held out her hand for your phone so she could put the location into your map. Once you had what you needed, you started making your way out, hearing her call after you, “Keep your head above water, Ducky!”

You kept moving, your feet moving beneath you even though your heart wanted to drop to the floor, you charged out the door, ignoring Emily as she tried to comfort you. Luke followed you out of the apartment building, neither of you speaking until you handed your phone to Luke, showing him the location. “Stay here, I’ll call the team and get them to meet here,” he told you, lifting your phone to let you know he was taking it with him.

Trailing behind him anyway, you got into the passenger seat of the SUV, “I have to go, Luke. It’s… I’ll be fine.”

He wasn’t entirely convinced, but Luke generally wasn’t one to argue with you. “Okay, but I’m still calling for backup.”

It wasn’t a far drive, in fact, months ago this bridge had been a regular stopping point when you went on walks, but as soon as you stepped out of the car and heard the water running below you, you froze.

There were flashing lights all around you, and the only thing you could do was watch as Juliette held onto the older of her two sisters at the edge of the bridge. The younger girl was calling out for her sister. Vaguely, you heard Matt trying to talk Juliette into letting them go.

The little girl screamed as Juliette shoved her sister off of the bridge, putting her hands up once the crime had been committed. Luke called for search and rescue through his comm, and you watched the little girl, just as old as JJ when Roslyn passed away.

Keep your head above water.

You didn’t remember much about Roslyn’s funeral, it was mostly JJ straightening your dress and fiddling with her necklace, but that singular event had changed the entire course of your life.

The screaming continued even as you ran to the edge of the bridge, not garnering anyone’s attention until it was too late, and Luke shouted your name as you dove off of the platform.

Afterward, the first thing you would remember was the pain. You absorbed the shock of hitting the water through your arms, causing strain on both of them. The darkness of the water was just as you imagined it would be. That is, until you rose to the surface, met with dozens of flashlights shining down on you.

People called your name, but you just looked around the water, listening for splashing as you hoped to find Juliette’s sister.

There was a gasp behind you, the both of you treading as best you could, but the water was cold, and she slipped under. Impulsivity was never your strong suit, so you hadn’t really considered the way your hands would go numb until you put an arm around her waist, trying to keep her head above the water.

“Y/N!” Matt called from the riverbed, shining his flashlight over at you while you tried to support the girl. It wasn’t easy, you ducked your head under the water and pushed her up, the darkness of the water threatening to swallow you whole.

Hoisting her up, you felt your teammates pull her from the water and sighed, forgetting where you were.

You gagged on the water before reaching up your arms, letting yourself be pulled out. The shock of the air on your lungs was nearly as bad as that of the water, but as you coughed up water on the dirt, you heard the girl start coughing as well.

Her body would have been dumped right where Cat’s mother had been found, and that little girl would have lost her big sister, just like you did. It was the only thing you could think of as you were brought back to the BAU because Emily was insistent on debriefing.

“You dove into the water?” Emily asked before ordering one of the desk agents to go find something for you to change into.

Your wet clothes clung pathetically to your skin as you nodded, “Yeah, I did.”

Luke smiled next to you, “It was pretty impressive, actually.”

“It’s reckless is what it is,” Emily said, studying your damp state, “Go up to my office and turn the space heater, we need to thaw you.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked up to Emily’s office and opened the door, turning the knob on the space heater before sitting on the little couch in her office. Placing your ring on the coffee table to dry, you wrapped your arms around yourself. You waited for the desk agent to return with clothes and instead were surprised when your sister came through the doorway with a pile of clothes in hand. “Hey,” she said, lifting the clothes, “Fresh from the Academy laundry.”

She closed the blinds as you stripped down to your tank top, pulling the sweatshirt over your head before swapping out your pants as well.

“How do you feel?” She asked gently, standing across from you hesitantly.

You looked down at your new clothes, “I feel like FBI Academy propaganda,” you responded, sitting back down on the couch.

Raising her eyebrows, she looked at you intently, “I meant after… everything tonight.”

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you looked up at your sister, “It never had anything to do with Spencer,” you whispered.

She pursed her lips before sitting next to you, “Well, it’s always Cat’s goal to get under Spencer’s skin. She just chose to use you to do it this time.”

You would probably never know how Cat managed to know so much about you. Honestly, you probably didn’t want to know. This time next week, Cat Adams would be dead, and that would just have to be enough for you.

“I can’t believe you jumped into the river,” JJ said in disbelief, rubbing a hand up and down your back.

Shyly, you shrugged at her, “I saw a little girl about to lose her big sister and I couldn’t let her go through that kind of pain.”

Your sister nodded in understanding, “She was eleven?”

You nodded slowly, “And her sister was seventeen,” you whispered.

Part of you felt like you had been staring at an alternate universe all evening. “So,” JJ said, moving the conversation, “Spencer’s on his way back. He’ll probably want to talk to you, clear some things up.”

“Will you sit with me until he does?” You asked softly, afraid of her sniping back about forgiveness, but she didn’t. That wasn’t the way JJ worked, she just nodded, leaning back against the cushions and letting you rest your head on her shoulder.

She didn’t get up and leave until Spencer arrived, she went to meet him in the bullpen, and you waited for the moment someone told him where you were. There was a sensation you had never experienced before, but you felt so separate from your own actions. Despite your still wet hair, you barely remembered diving into the water.

You sensed another psychological evaluation in your future.

The rotating heater warmed you in waves as you listened to your team. They filled Spencer in on everything that had happened tonight, from Juliette’s sisters to Cat’s real plan. “She…” Spencer stammered, “She told me Y/N had a big decision to make tonight. Where is she?”

Blankly, you stared ahead at the heater, wondering what they’d tell him and what they’d save for you. “Well, she may have jumped into the Potomac,” Matt told him tentatively, his voice was gentle as he dropped the bomb.

“She dove actually,” Luke corrected, and you imagined him being proud of his redress.

Emily cleared her throat, ever the mediator, and finally answered Spencer’s question, “She’s up in my office getting warm.”

There were no more questions after that, but you recognized the footsteps as Spencer approached the office. His knock was timid, but he didn’t wait for you to respond before opening the door.

His hair was awry, you supposed yours didn’t look much better, and his breathing was uneven. A symptom, you assumed, of finding out you had jumped into the fourth largest river on the Atlantic coast. “Hi,” you waved nervously.

At the same time, he spoke, “I’m so sorry.”

There was no use in pussyfooting around, “Did you want to talk now, then?”

“Yes,” he answered instantly, “I can’t… I’m so tired of things looming over our heads.”

You sighed, folding your hands in your lap, “That cumulonimbus has been there for quite some time, hasn’t it?”

“I just cheated on you and you’re making cloud jokes?” Spencer asked in disbelief. At some point in the night, he had lost his jacket, leaving him in a rumpled dress shirt.

Turning to stone, you paused. Maybe it was the Potomac water that you had ingested, maybe it was the other events of the evening, but you had brushed off the kiss between him and Cat nearly immediately. “I guess I didn’t really think of it that way,” you admitted.

He leaned back on Emily’s desk, “All of these problems we’ve been having, and we were just beginning to make headway. I went and ruined it.”

Raising your eyebrows, you looked at Spencer quizzically, “Okay, well, now you’re catastrophizing.”

“I made a choice years ago that resulted in you facing one of your biggest fears tonight, you’re shaking, and your clothes are in a sopping pile on the ground,” he explained as if you weren’t well aware. “I don’t think you’re taking this seriously.”

“I think you just had a shitty night spent with a woman who has a knack for convincing you you’re evil, so you’re telling me how evil you are right now,” you responded, leaning back on the couch cushions. “You’re not evil and you’re barely a cheater,” you told him, “I’d love to lay out all of the evidence for you, but I’m exhausted and I’d rather we just go home.”

One look at Spencer told you that you weren’t going to be getting what you wanted tonight, the histrionics of your evening weren’t over. “I made you cry,” he said meekly. He said it like it was the worst thing he could ever do to you.

“I’m the one who told you to go! I might not be a genius, but I’m smart enough to have considered the fact that Cat would try to make a move.” Groaning, you covered your face with your arms, “Spencer, Cat made me cry. I had to sit back and watch her manipulate you into believing you caused her miscarriage.”

“You knew?” He breathed.

You nodded, dropping your arms and looking at him miserably, “Yes, I knew the truth, and it killed me to not be able to tell you.”

Waiting for him to respond was agonizing. You desperately wanted to apologize for not telling him as soon as you found out about Cat’s baby, but you didn’t think it was important information at the time.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Spencer finally spoke. “I thought… I couldn’t handle it if you thought that I’d-“

Quickly, you shook your head and waved your hands, “No, Spence. I knew the truth from the get-go.”

He was quiet, shuffling his feet on the carpet before he looked up at you. He opened his mouth to speak but second-guessed himself before sealing his lips and crossing his arms in front of his chest. Watching you for a moment, he spoke, “Do you remember when you asked me what my truth would’ve been? If Pinkner had asked me instead of JJ?”

“We should go to bed.”

“Wait, what’s your truth?”

“My truth is that I’m tired, we should go to sleep.”

Part of you wanted to ask if he wanted to do this now, after the day the two of you had, you’d be perfectly content with going home and leaving this conversation for tomorrow. Instead, you nodded, “Yes, you ignored it.”

Spencer chuckled nervously, “You had been spending weeks looking for a reason to pick a fight with me. I didn’t think you would accept my answer for what it was.”

“The truth,” you drew your own conclusion, shifting uncomfortably on the couch.

Slowly, he knelt on the ground in front of you, “You were looking for me to tell you that I shared JJ’s feelings. You wanted me to say that you were my second choice, but that has never, ever been my truth. It never has been.”

Swallowing thickly, you reached your hands out and took his in yours, gently skimming the pads of your thumbs over the back of his hands, “Spencer, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he whispered.

“What’s your truth?” You asked him softly, approaching the topic like a deer in the woods.

He looked down at your intertwined hands, noting the fact that you had taken your ring off before he responded, “I’ve spent my entire life trying to live up to the expectations of others. I went to Caltech, then MIT, and then I was recruited to the BAU. Through all that, I was under the impression that I was letting people down.”

This was a familiar conversation to you. You once spent hours talking him off of a metaphorical ledge because he hadn’t cured schizophrenia.

“I’m not the perfect son, who sent his mother away a week after turning eighteen,” an action that had almost gotten him killed. “I’m not a perfect agent and I’m not a perfect friend because the expectations set for me are too high, but I’m not a perfect boyfriend or fiancé either. It’s not because you hold me to a certain standard, it’s because I failed you.”

Your eyes widened at his admission, “Spencer, no, you didn’t.” Your chest ached at the thought of this living in his head. He had been living while paralyzed by the weight of the expectations of others when he just wanted one thing - to feel normal.

He waved you off, “Do you remember what you asked me? On that date in the shooting range?”

Seven years ago, shortly after Emily left for Interpol, you and Spencer had an impromptu date at the shooting range. “I asked you not to break my heart.”

“And I have, haven’t I? Time and time again,” he asked rhetorically, not looking for an answer even when you wanted to prove him wrong. “You’ve watched me get shot, you’ve seen me in handcuffs, beaten, kidnapped, fired – and you’ve never wavered. You have loved me through it all, and I haven’t reciprocated fairly. I had never known unconditional love, and I think you’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to it. I get put on this pedestal by everyone I meet and you’re the only person who has ever made me feel average. I know average is usually used with a negative connotation, but in this case, I mean it positively. You don’t have outlandish requests from me, all you’ve ever asked for is love, and I… I’m never going to be able to verbalize how much that means to me. How much you mean to me.”

“Spencer,” you tried to interject.

His eyes met yours, his brown irises slightly bleary as he looked at you intently, “I am so sorry. I’m sorry about your sister and I’m sorry about kissing Cat and I’m sorry about all of the ways I have broken your heart and if you… if this is where you need to call it, then I completely understand.”

“Spencer,” you echoed.

He tilted his head to the side, “What?”

You raised your eyebrows, “My ring is over there, on the coffee table, will you put it back on for me?”

“Do you mean it?” He asked, reaching behind him for the ring without waiting for your answer.

Holding out your left hand, you nodded, “There have been a lot of wrongs – from the both of us, but I don’t… I can’t hold the JJ thing against you anymore. You’re verifiably a genius. So, if you tell me that the only thing that would’ve pleased Cat is kissing her, then I’ll believe you. I trust you, and if I lose that, then I lose myself.”

He seemingly thought about it for a moment before responding, “It was the only thing I could think of, and I promise I will make this up to you.”

Smiling softly, you flexed your fingers once he slid the ring back on, relishing the feel of the metal on your finger. “Then it’s a good thing you’re only getting married once, it gives you a lot of time to make it up to me.”

“Did you have any ideas?” He asked a little too eagerly.

You beamed, “Oh, I have a few.”

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danisluvv · 9 days ago

Text

Obvious | d.avanzini

Pairing: idol!fem!Reader x daniela avanzini

Warnings: none.

Part 2

Katseye this, katseye that.

Everywhere you walked you either heard about the group or the members individually, billboard after billboard was dominated by them, they were everywhere and it was like you couldn't escape.

You listened to their music a few times, and you can't lie, it was really good, so you kinda understood what the hype was about.

But it's not just about the music, the members itself were very popular for their looks and personalities, you don't really get the personality part because you don't know them personally, but the looks? Oh, you understood that part very well.

They looked majestic, all six of them had their own charisma and beauty that would make anybody swoon.

You couldn't chose between who was prettier or funnier or cooler, but there was one person that still caught your attention the most.

Daniela Avanzini.

You first heard about her when you were watching the pop star academy, and later when the group debuted she got more popular and her socials blew up.

You were casually scrolling on Instagram when a katseye post popped up, it was a video of her dancing with her group members but you couldn't keep your eyes off of her, and when you saw her account tagged in the caption, you couldn't help but want to check it out, and check it out you did.

You were stalking her account when you accidentally liked a few posts of her, and didn't notice, until you checked the comment section.

@/katseyeluvv

Bro, is it just me or is y/n acc stalking dani she's liked almost all of her posts in the last few minutes🧐

@/danismygf

No fr I see it too and I don't blame her💁🏻‍♀️

And before you know it, the "rumours" of you stalking Daniela went viral, fans making jokes in both of your comments sections saying stuff like "I wonder how long will it take for y/n to like this" or "but I don't see dani liking y/n's posts, is it one sided lolol."

You were bombarded with comments like that even when you were live, and would get sneaky comments from ningning, which would eventually end up in you two cat fighting and Karinas scolding.

At least you were thankful that Daniela and you two didn't know each other and have never met, because if she had noticed all the comments and ship videos of you two just like you did, it would've been awkward.

Well, the fate is never on your side now is it?

02:34 a.m.

You locked your phone, yawning as you tried to put on your slippers half-asleep.

Ningning had texted you saying she was hungry and you were going to tag along to the nearby convenience store, no questions asked.

At first you said no, but then you two made a deal, you would go with her and she would cut the "you're obsessed with Daniela from katseye who is two years younger than you" crap.

The deal was made, and you two were walking to the store in the middle of the night in you pj's, you offered to drive there since it was so late, but she insisted on going by foot since it was a five minute walk.

"So, about the d-" she started but you quickly cut her off.

"Ningning, we made a deal, I follow you here and you zip it, so shush." She rolled her eyes, slapping you on the forehead, "hey, I'm older than you, show some respect!"

"Yeah, older by like what, a day?"

"A day is a lot, it's a whole Twenty-four hours," she slapped you on the forehead again, "ningning, I swear to God, I'm gonna turn back-"

"Too late, we're already here!" She let out excitedly as she opened the door walking in, you were about to follow her when you noticed there was a group of girls right behind you, so you waited, opened the door wider and motioned for them to walk inside.

They bowed, saying quick thank yous and dissapearing behind an isle.

"Ugh, such a gentlewoman!" Ningning held her heart dramatically, making you chuckle.

"Just get whatever you want, I'll be right here," she nodded and she also dissapeared behind an isle.

You started to walk around, trying to act interested as you waited for her, when the same girls from before walked to the register, hands packed with cup ramen making you chuckle.

You took a few steps back to give them some space, when you suddenly bumped into someone.

You quickly turned around to see a few juice bottles all over the floor, making you gasp, "oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

"What? No, no, it's totally my fault, I started walking backwards, are you okay? Did you hurt anything?" You said in a rush, looking over her for a sign of injury.

She looked familiar, although she had a cap and a mask on, her blonde hair and brown eyes seemed really familiar.

You tried to think of who it could be as you helped her pick up the bottles, the realization suddenly hit, no, it couldn't be right?

"Daniela? Are you okay?" Sophia asked rushing over, dang it, she looked over to you quickly, like she recognized you without even seeing your face.

"You gotta pay for the drinks that spilled you know," the cashier said from behind the counter, her words directed to Daniela but you quickly spoke up.

"Here," you gave her your card, "for the spilled drinks and other things that the ladies wanted to buy."

"You don't have to," Lara interrupted, shaking her head.

"Please, I insist, since I spilled your drinks and ruined Danielas outfit," you smiled at her as cashier gave you back your credit card.

"Thank you, really, you didn't have to," Daniela smiled, "it was nice to meet you, y/n."

And they walked out.

"Was that katseye?" Ningning suddenly popped up next to you.

"Yeah, yeah, it was." You giggled and proceed to pay for the things ningning picked also, since you payed for katseye, ningnings words not yours.

Your phone was going crazy, so you decided to take a break from practice and check what was going on.

@/daniela_avanzini started following you.

@/sofia_laforteza started following you.

@/lararajj started following you.

@/y0on_cha3 started following you.

@/meganskiendiel started following you.

@/meretmanon started following you.

Could they make it more obvious?

A/n: lmk what you think about it in the comments and if I should make part two! Don't forget to like, comment and reblog! Hope you enjoy♥︎

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fairysongs · 6 months ago

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౨ৎ coming home too late﹕spencer reid .ᐟ

summary: based entirely on the song, coming home by beabadoobee. pure fluff.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

includes: soooo much fluff, spencer’s pov, spencer is in love with reader, reader is just as in love with him, very small mention of depression, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader loves to clean, established relationship, derek morgan is spencer and reader's #1 fan, did i mention spencer is in love?

word count: 1.7k

a/n: eeeek my second fic!! i got so happy writing this. maybe the most sickening sweet thing i ever did do. i love beabadoobee's music so much i kinda wanna write a million different things based on her songs. Anyways..!!! as always likes/reblogs/feedback appreciated :3

spencer reid had never felt more relieved to be sitting inside this jet than he was right now.

sure, he’s happy every single time his team is able to wrap up a case. he’s happy every single time they catch the bad guy. he’s happy every single time justice is brought to victims and their families. he’s happy every single time he gets to come home and see you. he’s happy every single time he notices the way your eyes light up when you see him walk through the door. he’s happy every single time you throw your arms around his neck and he gets to pick you up, inhaling your sweet scent as if he’d never be able to embrace you again.

but this time it was a little different. it was currently 6:54pm in california where the latest case was. meaning it was 9:54pm back home. it would take approximately five hours to fly home and another thirty minutes to drive to his apartment. meaning he wouldn’t step through his door until way after three in the morning and he knew you’d be sound asleep by then. and it was saturday, a day that never held much weight to him until he started living with you.

he found out that you grew up with a rather strict routine in your home. your parents deemed every saturday ‘cleaning day’. every saturday you did your weekly chores and that habit stuck with you as you moved on to live with college roommates, on your own and eventually with spencer.

he remembers when he first asked you to move in with him. you’d been dating for about a year and a half at that point. he brought it up in a rather nonchalant way and he was so thankful you were not a profiler and couldn’t tell how hard his heart was beating inside his chest as he started to ask.

“you know… you sleepover here a lot. i mean, you have your own drawer in my dresser, your own space in my closet…” he started one morning, sipping from his mug of sugary sweet coffee. “your skincare stuff in my bathroom, your special shampoos in my shower… your little treats stocked in my fridge…” his lips started twitching, trying to fight the stupid large smile that wanted to show on his face.

you hummed in response, your fingers tapping against your own mug that was full of tea. you hated coffee. when he learned that he bought a box of your favorite tea and kept it stocked in his kitchen. “are you… complaining?” you asked, voice sort of quiet with uncertainty.

he shook his head immediately, realizing he wasn’t being as straightforward as he assumed. “no!” his voice squeaked slightly, causing you to raise your eyebrows. “no… no, i was just… i mean, you spend so much time here and i really love it. i love you being here with me and i… if you wanted to move in i would… i mean, i want you to move in. if you want to. please.”

thankfully your heart was just as pretty as you were and you didn’t let him nervously ramble for too long. instead you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “relax. i’d love to, spencer. but i have to warn you, i’m quite a lot to deal with twenty-four seven…” he would just stare back at you, with nothing but love and admiration pouring from brown hues. he always thought you were so silly when you’d say things like that and he’d spend the rest of the morning telling you that while peppering sweet kisses to every inch of your skin.

he did learn very quickly just how serious you were about your routine. you woke up at six in the morning every saturday. you’d start in the bathroom, then make your way to the kitchen, then collect the dirty laundry from the week, then focus on organizing every little desk and shelf he had in his home. at first you wouldn’t let him help you, explaining that you didn’t want him to feel obligated in helping you with your own crazy little habit. he’d shake his head and just ask you what kind of laundry detergent you liked as he piled clothes into a basket.

“if you keep up with it weekly, then it won’t get out of hand and too big to fix.” you mumbled one time while scrubbing the dishes. “sometimes when the scaries got really bad, i used to forget to keep up with my cleaning. all the mess just made things more unbearable. keeping on top of it makes me feel more in control. even if the ‘cleaning’ one week is just refilling the toilet paper and doing one single load of laundry.”

he nodded his head in response, emptying the trash beneath the sink. spencer was nothing but soft with you, but even more so whenever you mentioned your struggles with depression or ‘the scaries’ as you called it. the two of you quickly fell into a habit every single saturday. you split the work load. you’d do the dishes, he’d carry the trash out, you’d fold the laundry, he’d vacuum the rug. he didn’t have to say it, you’d already know, but he enjoyed the structure of routine just as much as you did. the rest of your saturdays were spent on the sofa, your head in his lap while you forced him to watch your favorite childhood show. takeout food spread across the coffee table in front of you. there was so much comfort the two of you found in the domesticity of it all.

so, yes, he was a little bit upset he missed this saturday and was so ready to get home and pull you into his arms and never let go. he hadn’t noticed him spacing out, eyes focused on the same page of a book he was reading for five minutes, until he heard derek morgan’s voice.

“hey, loverboy!” spencer’s head snapped up, brows furrowing at the man giving him a cheeky smile. “you’ve been staring at that page for an eternity. what’s on your mind, huh?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

you met the whole team ages ago and every one of them adored you but derek especially admired the way you loved spencer. he’d never say it out loud, unless it was in a teasing way to get spencer to blush, but he genuinely believed you were an angel sent to the boy genius. derek noticed how blissful you made him, how gentle you were and how safe he felt with you. how could his heart not swell in appreciation for the love you gave to his brother?

“i missed cleaning day…” spencer spoke, brows pulling together slightly. there was a soft sigh that fell from his lips as he pulled his phone from his pocket. your last text saying you were gonna stay up and wait for him even though you both knew that you’d fall asleep the moment you got comfortable.

“okay… and is that a bad thing?” derek responded, leaning back into his seat with a slightly confused expression.

“well, yeah. she likes cleaning every saturday and we normally split the work between us. that way we have more time to spend together.” spencer huffed and tucked his phone away again. he closed the book he was reading. “it’s more than just the cleaning, derek. i hate being away from her, you know? we never know when we’re gonna get called away on a case like this and i like spending as much time as i can with her. and i hate coming home late. it makes me feel like i’ve missed so much.”

derek breathed out a laugh but nodded, understanding all too well what he meant. emily prentiss came around the corner, one hand holding a cup of coffee and the other resting gently on spencer’s shoulder. “spencer reid, you have become the most smitten, lovestruck man since you met that girl. and it’s the most adorable thing in the world.” everyone on the jet chuckled softly at that, even aaron hotchner, while he blushed and adverted his eye contact towards the shaded window. he knew they weren’t laughing at him, more so showing an expression of how happy they were that he was happy.

he stepped into the dimly lit living room of his apartment at exactly 3:26am. the tv glowed over your sleeping body on the sofa, arms wrapped tightly around a stuffed red panda he gifted you a few birthdays ago. the netflix screen asking ‘are you still watching avatar: the last airbender?’ shined in his face as he leaned in to shut the machine off. he walked over to your sleepy state, a tiny smile growing on his lips as he leaned in to brush some of your hair from your face. he tucked one arm beneath your knees and held the other one to your arm as he carried you to the bedroom.

you stirred, humming softly as he quietly shushed you. “shh, hi baby. i’m home now. go back to bed, yeah?”

“how was the flight?” you asked in a soft whisper, ignoring his requests. he chuckled, shaking his head and he set you gently on the cushion of his mattress.

“it was fine. too long. i’m sorry i’m home late.” he was just as quiet as you, pulling the duvet over your body and tucking it at your shoulders. he picked up the stuffed animal that had fallen beside the bed and tucked it next to you as well.

“it’s okay. we always have tomorrow.” with your eyes still closed, you smiled as he kissed your forehead.

“yes, my love. we do, don’t we? i’m gonna get changed okay? go back to bed.”

“i’ll wait for you.”

when he was changed out of his work clothes and into his pajamas, he turned back and found you soundly asleep again. he let out a quiet laugh, got into bed and pulled you right to his chest. he played with your hair until he fell asleep too, no longer upset about the day he missed with you because you were right.

he always had tomorrow.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #౨ৎ ﹕mazzy’s fics ( s.r x reader. ) .ᐟ #<3 #Gonna be so real i rushed to post this before work and didnt rly proofread #if theres any mistakes or mishaps i will fix when i get back home

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pedriache · 3 months ago

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Hi!!! This is my first request but could you please do an imagine with Pau Cubarsi x reader where he wants to be more than friends and doesn't know how to tell her but in the end he finally does. your writing is amazing btw!!

I’ll call you mine — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: Pau has been trying to confess for months, but instead of it coming out with a planned confession, he just blurted it out.

Word count: 1.58k+

Disclaimer/s: Injured (but healing) cat + fluff

A/N: on a pau grind because i’m desperately in love with him.

Your whole study group, which consisted of you, Pau, Lamine, and a girl named Elaine, had agreed to meet at a local diner a few blockes away from school. Pau had kindly offered you a ride there, since he was your neighbor and best friend.

Music played quietly in the background while he drove, adding a nice vibe to the one you’d already created while talking. Pau was asking about you cat, Beatrice, since she just had surgery.

“Oh my God, she literally—“ You let out an annoyed breath, “she literally is so energetic. She literally just got her surgery and now she’s suddenly full of life! I had twenty-four hours of peace before she started walking on our balcony railing again!”

Pau chuckles, his eyes darting to you every few seconds to watch your animated retelling of Beatrice’s actions. “She’s always been a handful, why are you surprised?”

Pinching your lips together, you huff. “Okay, true. It’s still stressful though. So anyways, Lamine and Elaine texted and said they are waiting for us.. but, I was thinking we.. you, could stop at the gas station so I can get some chips? They always have boring flavors at the diner.” You turn in your seat to face Pau, your lips jutting out in a pleading pout.

The boy glances at you with a knowing look, but of course he could never say no to you. “Yeah, sure. Just be quick, we’re already late.”

Pau turns into one of the corner stores, parking in the front so you could get in and out as quickly as possible. As you dig for your bag to get your card, Pau pulls his out from his wallet, shoving it into your face.

Pulling back, you give him a look. “No. Pau, you paid for them last time!”

“And, i’ll pay for them this time.” He waves the card in front of your face, which was forming an annoyed look. “Take it. Go.”

With a groan, you snatch it from his hand. “Okay, thanks. I’ll pay you back.”

You were in and out of the gas station in five minutes, clicking your seatbelt on and handing Pau’s card back with a smile. Chips in hand, you watch the store disappear as Pau drives away.

Your eyes eventually trail back to Pau, who seemed to be deep in thought. Observing his concentrated face, you don’t realize the growing upturn to your lips. He feels your stare, but doesn’t say anything to stop it. His stomach churns the longer you silently watch him and his heart felt like it was beating so fast that it wasn’t beating at all.

You only look away when he parks outside the diner. Unbuckling and climbing out with an eager bounce in your step. Inside, you two find Lamine and Elaine waiting in a back booth, their laptops already opened on the table alongside a red box of fries.

“About time.” Elaine quips, not bothering to look up from her laptop when you and Pau slide into the bench across from her and Lamine.

“Someone,” Pau drawls out, eyes flickering to yours teasingly, “wanted her chips.”

Lamine laughs, sticking out his hand to Elaine who frowns as she places a few bucks into his open palm. “I told you.”

Your lips pull into a frown, “what the hell? You placed a bet—you know what. Whatever! I don’t even care. Moving along, who has the wifi password?”

“They haven’t changed it since we were last here.” Elaine informs, plopping a fry into her mouth.

Pau’s eyebrows quirk up, “they haven’t?”

Your elbow nudges his shoulder, “they are learning to love us!”

Lamine glances between the duo, sharing a quirked eyebrow with Pau when your hand lingered a bit too long on the boy’s arm, and Pau’s cheeks had flushed a bright red.

The thing was, Lamine had been trying to get Pau to tell you how he felt for months. Every time, the boy promised he’d do it ‘soon’. He never did.

As the night went on, the group studies quietly, sharing small talk here and there. You and Pau decided to leave early, opting out of the study session to go watch a movie at your house.

The second you two arrived back at your house, you had changed into pajamas and joined Pau on the couch. With your parents already fast asleep, they didn’t bother telling you what time to have Pau leave. This was quite a normal activity for you two; Pau coming over to your house and staying over while you guys half-pay attention to the movie playing.

Most of the time you two spent together was filled with you talking and Pau listening. Thats the sort of friendship you had. He loved to hear you talk, and, well, you loved to talk. Plus, Pau preferred it that way simply because he could avoid the stuttering mess you made him when you listened to him talk.

Even as you sat there, only a foot between each other as you talked. Your knees were pulled to your chest and you were going in on a conspiracy theory you happened to come across on Tiktok. Pau’s eyes darted across your face as you spoke, and you found it harder and harder to remember all the facts when his eyes kept wandering to your lips.

Maybe he should just tell you.

Your brain was spinning just trying to focus on the topic at hand, but you had enough. “Pau, will you stop. I’m trying to tell a story here.”

The boy blinks, taken aback at your random call out. “What?

“Whatever you’re doing with your eyes, stop. Look away, it’s like.. distracting.” You gulp, why was it distracting in the first place?

Pau nods, he hadn’t even realized what exactly he was doing, so he just avoided your face. That, though, was harder than he thought. All he wanted to do was look at you, to see your face, and now more than ever.

That was the hardest part about him liking you. He was so deeply enthralled with everything you did, having that taken away was horrible. Pau had started to hate away games for the simple fact that he saw you less.

“Okay, but also, this—Pau? Hi?” You wave your hand in front of the teen’s face. “You went off into another planet, did you even get the last part? It was kind of vital.”

“Sorry, I was thinking. Could you repeat?” He looks back at you, and finds his breath catching in his throat. Had you gotten closer? You did look beautiful in the TV lights glow.

You suck in a long breath, “okay. Prepare—“

“I like you.”

Oh.

Silence.

“Huh?”

Another long beat of silence.

Pau’s mouth parts, he didn’t mean to say that out loud. He really didn’t. “Whaaat.. who said that?”

It was your turn for your mouth to fall open, slightly shocked but more.. well. You started laughing. You were choking on your laughter, your hand clutching Pau’s shoulder as your head dipped down to rest on it. He was laughing too, partly humiliated, partly-amused.

When you finally calmed down and look back up at him, you take a deep breath, swiping a hand in front of your face for dramatic effect. “Okay, i’m done. Sorry. Say it again.”

“Uhm… say what?”

“Quit playing with me Pau. Say it again so I can have a serious reaction.” Crossing your legs, you wait for him to speak again.

Pau feels his face grow hot. He really didn’t want to do that. “Do I have to?”

You blink, “what? Did you not mean it?”

His face flattens, “what? No! No, I did mean it… it’s just embarrassing.” He exhales, attempting to calm himself down. He truly did mean it, he just didn’t want to say it without a certain response from you.

His eyes meet yours and he notices the almost hopeful look in your eyes. “I like you.” He says slowly, cautiously.

“I like you too.” You smile, the weight of your once hidden feelings dissolved as the words tumbled off your lips.

Pau’s heart feels heavy with the emotions rushing through it. “Yeah?”

You nod, “yeah.” You weren’t sure what to do next, but truthfully, neither did he. Instead, you both sat there with stupidly wide smiles on your faces and rosy cheeks.

“I wonder if Lamine and Elaine bet on this too.” Pau suddenly blurts, cutting the tension you’d just formed. He laughs nervously, causing you to laugh in turn.

“Probably.” You agree, “maybe we just shouldn’t tell them, not for a bit.”

Pau’s eyebrows pull together, confusion flashing across his face. “Why?”

You shrug, settling into the couch beside him, a bit closer this time. “I dunno, I kind of want to have this to ourself for a little while… not long, but, y’know?”

Understanding what you meant, the boy leans back against the couch, his arm draping over your shoulder’s and pulling you into his side. “Yeah, I don’t mind that.”

You smile against him, your stomach fluttering when you process the boy you’d had feelings for since you were thirteen, liked you just the same. He was finally yours.

Pau sat back too, smiling to himself. This meant he could finally call you his, and vise versa. He’d waited for this moment for a very long time and he was very grateful for his lack of… self control.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any pau posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby @unx100to !

#pau cubarsi #pau cubarsi x you #pau cubarsi fluff #pau cubarsi one shot #pau cubarsi x reader #pau cubarsi fanfic #pau cubarsi imagine #pau cubarsí #pau cubarsi x y/n #football #blurb #fluff #friends to lovers #fc barcelona #fc barcelona fic #fc barça

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literaryslapshot · 1 year ago

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hi!!!!! i was wondering if i could request the reader forgetting date night w rafe because she was jus so busy?? maybe like angst to fluff :))

february prompts | rafe cameron x reader | reader is kind of a ditz, please send more rafe i am down so bad

the tick tock of the clock makes your mind go crazy. watching as time goes by, picking at your nails while you anxiously listen for the hum of his truck and the scratching of his tires against the gravel road outside of your house. anxiously waiting.

it wouldn't be the first time he was late, though. he'd been late a few times before, you got used to his bad habit. very rarely was he twenty-five minutes late. by now, you're sure that they already gave your table away to someone else. maybe if he shows up in the next ten minutes you can still make your movie, but you have doubts.

five more minutes, then i'll call.

four went by. you heard a familiar sound outside, but you turn around to see it's a truck pulling into your neighbors driveway.

three went by. you felt your phone buzz, but it was just an update from instagram.

two went by. one went by.

"hey rafey, what're you up to?" you ask nervously, staring at the clock that keeps mocking you with it's tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

he sighs on the other end of the line, "i'm still up here at work, why?" you bit your lip at a silly attempt to keep from crying. as soon as one tear fell more and more continued to fall.

"well, um, remember how we had reservations tonight? at that new place downtown?" you mention through tears and he hears it loud and clear. he almost drops his phone in anger and disappointment at himself. you hear him sigh and knock his fist against something a couple times.

"baby, i am so sorry," he whispers. you hear on the other side of the phone rafe shuffling a few things around, the jingling of keys and heavy footsteps.

"if you leave now i can meet you at the movie theater," you interrupted.

"what? no, no i'll pick you up. no need for you to drive all the way over there. i'll be at your place shortly," rafe quickly shut your idea down. he ended the phone call and you remained sat on the couch until he walked through your front door with the key you gave him.

he did just a few minutes later. rafe didn't greet you with a hug or a hello but instead he pressed his lips against your own and he placed his hands on your hips.

"i'm sorry sweetie, i got too distracted at work," he pulled away and tucked some hair behind your ear. it was always work that took him away from you. honestly you weren't even sure what rafe did for work. you knew that it had something to do with his dad, but he never told you what his exact job or title was. rafe just explained he works so that he can buy you all the things you want, take you to anywhere you want, and then some.

"c'mon lets go to the movies," he took your hand and walked with you out of the house. he reached up to tap the top doorframe of your front door and when he did his shirt rose up and you saw a gun tucked in the back of his pants, you gasped a little. what did he do for work that caused him to carry a gun with him?

rafe was a tough, almost scary man to some people. he was never scary to you, though. throughout the night he made up for him being late, getting a little handsy during the movie and going out for ice cream after, getting you as many scoops as you wanted.

"rafey," you asked while changing into your pajamas for the night, "what do you do for work again?" the question had been lingering all night in your head, you couldn't even focus on the movie because you kept wracking you brain. had he told you, and you just forgot? were you not paying attention when he told you?

"i told you sweetie, i just do boring stuff, stuff you wouldn't understand. i just make enough money so i can spoil you silly," he answered you coming up behind you and giving you a kiss in the curve of your neck.

"well, i saw your gun tucked in your pants. it kinda scared me, what do you do for work that makes you carry a gun?" rafes heart rate began to go up a little bit as he felt his cheeks get red.

"that's just precaution, lots of freaks out there." rafe kisses your cheek and pulls you back to the bedroom. he always keeps an extra pair of pajamas in your closet for the nights he stays over, which is often. "c'mon, let's go to bed."

he lets the hum of some documentary lull you to sleep in his arms. he takes a breath of relief, he doesn't know how much longer he can keep you oblivious.

#j's writing #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron angst #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #outer banks blurb #obx imagine

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asunflowerana · 5 months ago

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lotus love

summary: who knew a festival miles away from home would help Miya confess his feelings.

with: Osamu Miya

warnings: friends to lovers, oblivious reader, tatoos, dear osamu is so patient i can't 😅 fluff fluff fluff

Another road sign appears in your field of vision, a red ‘60’ stamped on the painted wood making Osamu slow down while driving, a gentle wind now coming through the open window and running your skin. It’s been almost three hours since you guys started the road trip to Kanagawa, and even though you enjoy watching the beautiful landscape sideways, your stomach is making a riot inside for food.

Being the copilot, you check out your current location on your phone’s map, letting out a relieved sigh as you notice a small festival going on a few miles away.

This is it.

You hear him chuckling, having no idea that he actually heard that sigh along with your now pleased expression. “Did ya find our next stop?”

“Lotus Festival, five kilometers away.” You answer him, scrolling through the event’s pictures. “Oooh, I found a yakitori stall there! Okay, we need to stop in this place.” Just imagining the seasoned grilled chicken skewered in a kushi makes your mouth drool faster than the car’s wheels.

“You got it.” Osamu smiles, also liking the idea of filling his tummy to the brim with food. “But, why Lotus?”

You search for the meaning on the web. “It says that this festival happens in the blooming season, which represents the 'rejuvenation of love’, in a few cultures. It’s most visited for old couples to rekindle their relationship, and singles searching for love. It’s really sweet…” You add, looking at some old married folks hugging each other. “But it’s kinda weird? Like, imagine someone traveling there just to find love? What if they find nothing and return home with a broken heart and less than twenty bucks?” You ponder out loud.

“Yeah, that sucks,” He mumbles, suddenly getting more interested in this festival. He turns to look at you, still paying attention to the empty road. “But it’s not the end of the world. The love of your life might be right beside ya, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You’re too worried about the hypothetical heartbroken person to notice Osamu’s eyes lingering on you a tad longer before his shoulders slumped in defeat and his brown eyes return ahead.

Ten minutes later, and the “Welcome to Lotus Festival ” banner appears, its spring colors matching the flowery environment. It’s so beautiful, the greenish square full of lotus with different colors, bringing such a delicious aroma that it attracted several little birds on the way, drinking their nectar like they’re in a feast.

Osamu parks his blue jeep alongside a truck, and together you both walk to the festival, leaving your bags behind and carrying only the essentials inside your purse — wallet, phones, some painkillers, and your small polaroid camera.

There’re a lot of stalls selling bouquets, natural lotions, hair accessories and floral jewelry, clothes, as well as food and beverage stalls. In the middle of the square, a white bandstand decorated with fairy lights and leaves, with mistletoe hanging in the center.

There’s so much to see, that you might be staying there for more than an hour's break.

But first things first, you carry the grey-haired man by hand through the festival, ignoring his confused questions until you finally found your target.

The smell of yakitori invades your nostrils and takes all of your self-control to not steal a bit from a kid who just got their steaming portion. You both look at each other for a second, hungry gaze in your eyes before you two run to the booth, money in hands and mouth begging for food.

“Four yakitoris for the couple.” The seller says evenly, handing you the warm skewers. Osamu forgets his food desire and gazes surprised at you, but you’re already devouring your grilled chicken like a starved lion.

“…Thanks.” Hesitant, he doesn’t correct the seller, handing him the money and moving away in your direction.

Did you really not hear what that guy said?

“Mmmmm… this is heaven.” You hum in delight, savoring the good taste as you finish your first skewer in record time. You look at him more pleased than before. “Thanks for the treat, ‘Samu. Choose whatever you want next, I’m buying.”

He nods in agreement and decides to forget the matter, taking a bite of his yakitori.

He doesn’t stop until it’s all gone.

You guys keep strolling, you buy some sweets for him while he treats you with a warm drink for the chilling weather, walking on the grass until a different booth catches your eye. On the sign, it shows that it’s a henna tattoo booth, choose one of the holiday models and you get a discount.

You get excited, having a new tattoo sounds super fun and it adds to the memories of this trip. And by the way Osamu is grinning down at you, he agrees with the idea as well.

Approaching the booth, you both look through the catalog, each model more beautiful than the other, making you undecided about the best.

“We could do matching tattoos.” Osamu proposes, pointing at the matching models on the second catalog page.

You nod, looking through the sketches. “They’re all so beautiful… I’ll let you decide.” You don’t usually trust him with those stylish things, but if you were to choose, you’d stay 30 minutes just gazing at them.

He hums for a moment, before pointing out at a beautiful Lotus sketch. “How about this one?”

“Rejuvenation of love. It’s a great choice, lots of couples order this one.” The woman owner of the booth says, a small smirk plastered on her face; Your brows raise, and Osamu is nervous, expecting a possible rejection, but you surprise him with your reaction.

“That’s so genius ‘Samu! That way, we won’t even forget about this festival!”

Both of them deadpan.

“Good luck buddy.” The artist mumbles close to him, patting his shoulder before guiding you both to your seats. Another missed shot.

As it was on the sign, about thirty minutes passed before the tattoos were finally done, a lotus flower now decorating the inside of your forearms. The woman even did a thin stalk in both, which when the two forearms joined, would connect the flowers into a single branch.

This is so meaningful, but Osamu isn’t sure if it has the same meaning for you as it has for him. He thought his feelings would be clear as the sun's rays by now, but you’re still oblivious to them, he doesn’t know what to do anymore. The hints aren’t landing, and the wonder of whether you like him back or not is eating his brain alive, for a long time.

He can keep this trip friendly as planned, visiting Kanagawa for the day before returning to Shibuya as best friends. But there’s a growing chance that someone else might get the shot that he wants so badly with you, and if he doesn’t take this moment now, he might not have another one.

So after paying for the tattoos, he leads you to the white bandstand, wanting to “take some pictures” there. He waits for the right moment when no one is there, and takes you by the hand to the middle.

He doesn’t let go of you.

“Is everything okay?” You notice the way he’s nibbling his lower lip with his canine, something he usually does to calm down. He takes a deep breath, gazing at your eyes with determination.

“I like you.”

Osamu never liked to stall, so it’s best to just rip off the bandage. He keeps a firm grip on your hand as your brows finally raise in realization. “I like you. I don’t know when it started, and I don’t really care, I just know that it will never stop. I can’t stop wanting you. And I don’t know if I didn’t hit it right, or your pretty head is too oblivious to notice — Okay, sorry but you know it’s probably the second.” He chuckles, letting out the adrenaline from his pounding heart. “…I’m in love with you, _____.”

He recites as if they are the most important words to him, moving closer to you as he stares with passion at your shining, surprised orbs. He takes your face in his free hand, and his heart skips as you accept the caress, interlacing his fingers with yours while still speechless.

He doesn’t need an answer to see that you feel the same.

He looks above to the ceiling for a moment, your eyes following and noticing that you both are right under the mistletoe. He grins down at you, one of his cheeky smiles that makes your heart throb in adoration.

“Not that I need one of those to kiss you, but since this is our first—” He nuzzles his nose with yours, his skin gently grazing and soothing you. He whispers close, not taking his eyes off yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

Enchanted by his spell, you give him a small nod, granting him the freedom to lock his sultry lips with yours, making you forget everything else and focus only on the magical feeling of his passionate kiss, legs weakening and body resting inside his warm embrace.

You can’t hear some people applauding you from afar, nor feel the present flower scent around the place. But the lingering thought of your tattoos brushing against each other doesn’t leave your head anymore.

Rejuvenation of love. Lotus Festival is true to its word.

a/n: i confess, i love when boys are the one pining around.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x you #miya osamu x y/n #osamu x reader #osamu x you #osamu x y/n #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x you #osamu miya x y/n #osamu fluff #{ bouquet }#w.hq

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tinytennisskirt · 6 months ago

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Cottage Culture

Art x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader, Art, and Patrick have been best friends since fourth grade. Older now, the three of them spend some time at reader’s cottage and it’s a few nights of buildup, a few nights of drinking, a few nights of misplaced tension until it all unfolds in Art’s favour.

Warnings: they all flirt with each other casually (it’s part of their dynamic), casual touch, mentions of sex, mentions of physical arousal, suggestions of masturbation, smoking, drinking, lots of fluff but also a lot of suggestive material… slowburn. unedited from my notes app.

They say trios never last, but yours managed to for years. You, Art, and Patrick had been close since grade four on and were still as strong as ever. Finally, after a month of planning, the three of you pulled up to your (now deceased) grandparent’s cottage that your parents maintained. It was mid-July and the heat was at its peak with hot days and warm nights with cool wind. The plan was to spend some time up here kayaking, swimming, playing pool, paddle boarding and fishing.

You each hauled a good amount of stuff from the car and began unpacking it. Everyone was tired from the drive, there were a few words spoken but hardly any altogether which was rare for the three of you, but once things were away there was less to worry about the next day and the three of you crashed on the couch.

Patrick sighed heavily as he sat down feet on the floor, arm draping over the armrest like a rag doll. “I’m out of my mind tired,” he yawned. “Since when does driving five hours count as a lullaby?”

“I think it might have been having so much fresh air with the open windows,” you said, sitting next to Patrick, body slightly turned. Patrick shoved your head and you only grinned, leaning back against him. Art followed suit, falling over the other arm rest, his head landing perfectly in your lap. He shut his eyes. You placed your hand right on his forehead and he smiled.

“He’s dead,” Patrick said. Art opened his eyes and tilted his head back to look at Patrick.

“Not dead, but dead tired,” he said. “I think it was the fresh air.”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been so tired after driving up here and I know we all slept well last night.” You said, resting your hand on Art’s shoulder. He placed his hand overtop yours. “But at least we know we’ll be fine tomorrow. No way I’m not falling asleep in the next twenty minutes.” You sighed. “If I can get off this couch.”

“That sounds like so much work,” Art groaned.

“Too much,” Patrick groaned just the same. You all shared a small chuckle, too tired to laugh. “Plus I can’t get up until you two do, I’m stuck here.”

“I’m never moving,” Art groaned. You smiled at his closed eyes, long eyelashes resting on his cheeks.

“That means I can’t move. Sorry Patty.” You shrugged. Patrick just groaned and covered his eyes and with a mighty push he unwedged himself from the couch arm and you tipped a little without someone to lean on.

“What? I’m strong,” Patrick said, flexing a little. You and open-eyed Art both grimaced at him, fighting a shared smile. “But that took the rest of my energy. I call dibs on the bedroom by the kitchen.” He said, walking away, you followed him with your head turning.

“Goodnight, Patrick!” Art called.

“Goodnight, Art!”

“Goodnight, Patrick!” You called back.

“Goodnight Y/N!” He yelled as he shut the door. There was a lot of yelling involved when these two were around. You sighed, tipping slowly so your head could rest on the arm rest opposite the one Art’s legs were draped over. You looked at him, his eyes shut again, his head still happily in your lap.

It was just you and him. They say a trio never works because there’s always a duo, but for the three of you, every duo had its purpose. From an outsiders perspective, Patrick and Art as a duo were best friends, pals, tennis freaks who shared their passion and worked together. Fire and Ice.

You and Patrick were something else. Some people would say something like you and Patrick had a love-hate relationship but it was all love and all hate all of the time. Little quips and jabs at each other, debating things all of the time.

And from an outsiders perspective there was no way Art wasn’t completely in love with you. There just wasn’t a chance that he wasn’t. Nobody ever looked at you and Art and thought first that you were only friends. You didn’t act like friends much. You were usually touching in some form but it was like that with Patrick too, but admittedly not as much.

You stayed still a while and you were pretty sure that Art had fallen asleep on your lap. “Art,” you whispered. Nothing. He was asleep. You wondered if you ever looked so peaceful when you slept. You felt terrible leaving him there but you were nifty in replacing your thighs for a pillow, not even making him stir in the slightest. You grabbed him a blanket, covered him up and turned out the lamp. “Goodnight.” You whispered, heading to your room. You flopped down on the pillow and it was lights out.

Falling asleep at nine thirty had the perks of helping you wake up early. You woke up quietly, still in the clothes from the day before so you changed into your jean shorts and a big t-shirt, brushed your hair and did a little bit of makeup- cottage style because you didn’t need much out here.

The boys liked to sleep in, so you knew they’d be up a little after you, given the time they all fell asleep. You got up and walked past Art, still fast asleep on the couch, curled into a ball. You quietly started on breakfast, chopping peppers, cutting pre-sliced ham, cracking eggs into a pan. He was far enough away that it wasn’t too loud and he stirred on his own. You heard him get up and turned to face him.

He cracked his neck as he stood up and walked wordlessly over to you cooking your omelets. He yawned before he spoke, stretching his arms up into the air, a peek of the v in his waist and happy trail just barely showing. He dropped his arms to his side. “Good morning,” he said, yawning again. He put a hand on your shoulder as he passed you, trailing it over to your other shoulder as he opened the fridge and grabbed the juice.

“Good morning,” you replied as he grabbed two cups and poured the juice into both. He slid one over to where you were cooking. “Thank youuuu.” You smiled. He kissed your shoulder and slid past again.

Patrick opened the door of his bedroom, “I smell food.” He said. It wasn’t like him to say good morning anyway. His eyes panned to the stove, then you.” Oh hey housewife.” Patrick said, walking into the kitchen and stealing the cup of orange juice Art had poured you. Art took a seat at the table just behind where you were cooking.

“Hey househusband,” you said, giving Patrick your spatula, swapping it out for the juice and taking a seat next to Art. “Oh you don’t like cooking? Too bad.” You said.

Patrick fake-sneered at you before smiling and finishing up the eggs. You looked at Art and clinked your cups of orange juice together. Art cleared his throat, “I think we should play scrabble and head down for a swim after breakfast. Thoughts?”

“What about snakes and ladders instead?” You pitched, Art’s eyes widened and he grinned a yes.

“Sounds good,” Patrick agreed. “Though you know I’ll kick both of your asses. I’m really good at snakes and ladders.”

Art chuckled, “You can’t be good at snakes and ladders, buddy. It’s a dice game.”

“What can I say?” Patrick said, swinging the spatula around. “I’m good with dice.”

“Uh huh,” you nodded sarcastically, sticking your tongue out at Patrick. He stuck out his tongue right back at you and you turned, tongue still out to Art, who tried to nab it, but was too slow.

Breakfast was good, the morning into afternoon plans set. Patrick, of course, came last in snakes and ladders. You all went and changed into your swimsuits when things had digested. You brought a book and a towel down to the little beach of the cottage but you knew you wouldn’t be reading it. You took pride in being faster than the boys because you did get to sit in your coverup for about five minutes, just you and the water and the roar of boats on the lake. Your grandparents owned a boat but you’d take it out later, probably.

The boys didn’t just come down to the beach, they came rolling. Patrick shoved Art right into the shallows, splashing you and your coverup. Time to yourself was over, but you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re an ass!” Art called from a few feet in. Shirt off, blonde curls soaked down. He slicked his hair back. “I’ll get you back for that, I swear to god.”

“From there?” Patrick laughed from the boat dock. “You’re going to get me from down there?”

“No, but I will,” you said, shoving Patrick into the water from behind. He fell from the dock and right into the shallows, splashing Art. You and Art couldn’t contain your laughter watching Patrick blow water from his nose.

“It burns,” he said, chuckling and wiping water from his eyes. You and Art kept laughing like you were mad. You, planning on jumping in, dropping your coverup on the dry deck and you kept laughing, but neither of the boys did. You didn’t notice, though.

They, however, noticed you. Being friends for so long, they knew what you looked like, but they were still boys. You in a bikini was a treasure neither of them could pass up on for themselves. If anyone asked yeah they’d deny it, but they both thought you were quite hot from time to time…. Art, more so.

Patrick nudged Art twice in the arm as they both, open-mouthed watched you walk to the end of the dock into the deeper area. Neither of them took their eyes off you, Patrick grabbing Art’s arm for some form of support like ‘you’re seeing this too’ for the new bikini moment.

Art was seeing it for sure. The bikini. You. He was seeing you for sure… You turned at the end of the dock and both boys had to pretend like they weren’t staring. “Are you coming?” You called. Both boys snapped into it and started swimming as you jumped in, splashing them both.

You surfaced and it turned into a full blown splash fight, all of you treading and swimming around trying to avoid each other swimming underwater. You went a little more shallow where you could all touch and it was worse then, gaining the ability to dodge better, stand and fall.

Wordlessly, Art and Patrick called a truce and both turned on you, Art holding you like a shield as Patrick used all the force of his arms to splash you. Art let go a little early so you wouldn’t feel how he was feeling about so much of your skin against his. He couldn’t help it- it was you

“Okay! Okay, please! Truce!” You yelled above the sound of churned water, spitting lake water from your mouth. You held your hands in front of you and wiped the water from your face, moving your wet hair from your face. Patrick obliged, his arms were tired. You started laughing, finally able to breathe, standing up in the water, your bikini in full view again, you in full view. “Oh my god, you’re ruthless.” You sighed, hands on your hips.

“Only what’s deserved for that stunt on the dock,” Patrick retorted, stepping forward and tapping you under your chin. He was in your face, you stuck your tongue out and got his nose. Patrick lunged for you but you leapt back into the water to escape, back toward Art who was quietly hyper-fixated on how your the sides of your bathing suit were only tied in a bow…

You swam around behind Art and wrapped your arms around his neck, wet skin on wet skin. “You have to save me,” you giggled in his ear and he was glad you were behind him instead of in front. Instead, Art just tilted himself backwards, dunking you under the water.

After an hour of swimming, you were all sitting in the wooden lawn chairs near the beach, surrounding the fire pit. Patrick and Art were engaged in some conversation about their last tennis game and you got to lay in the sun, eyes shut, body stretched out.

Patrick kept his voice low, “You see the bows on the side?”

Art’s eyes widened, “Yes! Yes I saw them.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Do you ever forget what she looks like?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” Patrick nodded. “I usually see her the same way I did when we were in grade four, but sometimes I wonder about it and you have to admit, she-“

“Looks great. Yeah.” Art agreed, glancing over at you sunbathing.

“How many boners do you have left, goddamn,” Patrick teased Art, shoving him a little from his chair. Art just laughed.

Come dinner, you changed out of your bathing suits and into comfier clothes. You sat around the fire and roasted hot dogs. Patrick ate an entire pack shamelessly and you and Art each had two. You debated zombie apocalypse survival tactics and you and Patrick were getting a bit heated and you both ended up standing up. Art just watched, leaned back in his chair. You were passionate.

You huffed when Patrick won the debate, not listening to your side of reason and you decided it was better to just sit on Art’s lap. He didn’t expect it, but it was somewhat normal. You had your legs sideways over the chair and you in your shorts was sitting on him. Naturally, one hand of his went against your back and the other rested on top of your thighs. He was praying to god you couldn’t feel the seventh boner of the day. “Realistically, don’t you think the apocalypse would die down? They’re rotting people, they’d probably decompose anyways. Your theory sucks.” You said, finalizing the argument.

Art nodded, shrugging. “I think she’s right.” He nodded.

“You’re dick-riding,” Patrick told Art. “Tell me it wouldn’t be cool to have a bunker anyway.”

“It would be cool to have a bunker,” Art reasoned with you, looking up at you from under you.

“It would be cool, but necessary? Probably not.” You said. “Plus it’s not about being cool, it’s about being alive.”

Patrick shook his head, “I think being cool and alive are both important.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled. The crickets chirped and the sun set and you stayed out there until the mosquitos became too much. Patrick put the fire out and you all headed up for another few board games and rounds of crazy 8’s until you were yawning.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you said. “I’ll see you two in the morning.” You passed by Art, kissing him on the top of the head and by Patrick, roughing up his hair. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” Art said, following you with his eyes as you slipped into the far bedroom. Patrick echoed the goodnight. Art put his head in his hands immediately. “She’s insane.”

“I was going to say-“ Patrick said, voice down. “That lap move was crazy. You in your swim trunks too, man that has to be hard.” He chuckled at the double entendre. “I would be too.”

“It was so bad,” Art groaned, rubbing his face. “I’m just pretending she felt nothing.”

Patrick grinned and slapped him on the back, “I would too, buddy. I would too. Good luck.”

“Gee, thanks,” Art said. Patrick stood up and turned a few of the lights out. “You heading to bed?”

Patrick grinned, his dimple crawling up his face. “Ehh… something like that.” He winked and said goodnight, shutting the door to his room. Art wondered if he should do the same, considering. He chose against and just went to bed… hard again.

You woke up first again. The morning was chilly and the clouds covered the morning sun. You had packed a sweater but it was thin and you still shivered in it as you made up the pancake batter. You swore Patrick slept in just to be off of cooking duty…

You shivered over the stove, but Art’s big Stanford sweater was draped over the back of the couch. God, you were so glad. You pulled off the thin one and put on the big sweater with your comfortable leggings. It was much better. Your hair was still messed and wavy from the lake water, but you’d managed to clip it up again before pouring the batter into the pan. Like clockwork, Art was up.

He did a double take when he saw what you were wearing. He didn’t mind, but he had to admit he liked that you were wearing it. It smelled like him, you noted. “Hey,” you greeted him.

“Good morning,” he replied, his hair a mess of blonde curls, perfect bedhead. You hated how boys could just wake up gorgeous, it wasn’t fair. “How did you sleep?” He asked.

“Like a baby,” you replied. “You?”

“I don’t even think I rolled over once,” he said, smiling. He started to set three plates on the table along with the cutlery. “My sweater?” He teased, tugging at it as he went by.

You grinned, “Yes I stole it, but it’s freezing this morning. I needed it.”

“Hey, I’m not mad,” he shrugged. “Looks better on you than me.”

You played the pancakes. “Really?”

“Yeah. Keep it if you want, honestly. Lend it to me now and again, but you can have it.”

Patrick opened the door to his room, yawning. “This is why you’re my favourite,” you spoke up, eyeing him in his doorframe, loud enough so Patrick could hear. Art laughed watching Patrick’s expression change.

“I thought I was your favourite,” Patrick said, arms up in the air in mock-disbelief. “You just go around telling every guy that?”

You tossed Patrick a pancake like a frisbee which he caught. “Nice try. It’s only Art.”

“Is it?” Art said, grabbing the syrup. He looked you in the eyes, pretending to judge. “I’m okay with Patrick and I being sisterwives. We’ve been sisterwives before.”

“Y/N and I are the only sisterwives here,” Patrick said, mouth full of pancake. “Both married to you apparently. So are we day drinking today or what?” He sat at the table.

You laughed, extending your legs so your calfs rested on Art’s lap like a human footrest. You and Art chuckled, “I think that’s something for tomorrow.” Art said. “I want to take the boat out.”

“And you don’t want hard lemonade on a boat?” Patrick gasped, leaning in and putting both hands on the table. “Boring!”

“Okay, maybe,” you nodded. “But we have to have one night dedicated to being drunk that’s why I brought what I did.” You grinned. “Gotta save the supply.”

“Good plan,” Art agreed.

A day spent on the boat was fun. It was a lot of laughter and card games and maybe a hard lemonade or two. You wore a one-piece this time that had shorts built in so it was a little easier for Art and Patrick. Patrick wasn’t afraid of any seaweed and jumped right into a patch and Art found it cute how you could barely look down at the water in the seaweed patch. Seaweed grossed you out.

You and Art sat thigh to thigh almost the whole time aside from when you’d gotten up to twirl a bit to the music on the boat’s radio. He watched you in your bucket hat and sunglasses sway and spin and you were so gorgeous…

Sunset burned red in the sky and you headed back, having spent the whole day either in the shade or the sun on the boat. You were tired, more tired than either of the boys, you leaned against Art in the driver’s bench of the boat as he steered the boat back to the dock. He was acutely aware of your eyelashes as when you blinked with your face smushed against his arm he could just feel it. It was sweet. Patrick anchored the boat and Art scooped you up no problem from where you sat.

“I’m not that tired,” you complained, but you secretly liked it. Patrick smacked you in the foot that was raised in the air from the way Art had you. “Hey, stop it!” You called. Patrick stole you right out of Art’s arms and your tiredness faded for a moment as you fought him- Patrick nearly fell in the water. “God you’re such a freak!” You called out as Patrick hopped up the steps to the cottage. “Art, help!” You called out.

Art just grinned and followed. Patrick did set you down and you went and showered the day off in the shitty little cottage bathroom. You came back out after your shower in just your shorts and Art’s sweater. He could tell you didn’t have a bra on. It was cute.

He took his turn to shower, leaving Patrick with the cold water shamelessly. He complained, but it was funny. You and Art laid on the couch, this time your head rested on his leg. Art gently traced the brighter bits in your hair, just the pieces that shined a little extra while wet, with a gentle finger. You were tired. Art pulled your hair back from out of your face, “Let’s get you to bed, hm?” All your dancing and swimming and boating and sun just about wiped you out. This time, Patrick in the shower, nothing stopped Art from picking you up and taking you to the room you’d claimed. He awkwardly but surprisingly was able to move the blankets back with his foot and he set you down gently on the sheets, making sure your pillow was under your head. You were hardly awake, the way you were so completely and utterly exhausted. He moved your hair from your face just once more and pulled the blanket over you, but as he got up from the edge of your bed you stopped him.

“Just one more minute,” you said. It didn’t make much sense, one more minute of what? But how could he say no?

He left when you were fully asleep and intended on going to bed himself but Patrick challenged him to a game of cards and he obliged. Patrick grabbed Art’s knee. “You’re looking at her way too much, man.”

“Uh huh and you don’t? I see you stare just as much as I do,” Art smirked, playing his good cards. “She’s pretty, it’s hard to see past that.”

“A little too pretty. I wish I brought a porno just so I can remember that she’s not actually all that.” He didn’t mean it in a mean way, he meant it as in you weren’t the only girl in the world. He said it, but it was part of the loving insults he liked to throw out.

“Mmm,” Art nodded. “We should head into town tomorrow for some cigarettes.”

“Good idea,” Patrick said, squeezing Art’s knee and grinning wide. “I need that and a few shots at the local bar and the sight of a woman. ’m sure Y/N would like a few hours to sunbathe.”

Art grinned too, “Yeah, I think so.”

And the next day rolled around just the same. The boys explained their plan and you were more than on board with a few hours to yourself. They headed out and you went down to the beach to sit under your umbrella and read.

Patrick grabbed Art’s leg in the car as they pulled up to the local bar. “I don’t even care who I see, I just need to remind myself there are other women in the world.” Patrick jogged in and Art decided to wander to the nearby convenience to pick up some cigarettes. He grabbed those and some red liquorice, knowing it’s one of your favourites. He also grabbed some more matches and a lighter just in case, paying for it all and walking back to the car. Patrick stood outside it, looking a little sulked.

“Not a single woman in there. I give up. Had two shots though,” he grinned. Art held up the cigarettes and Patrick brightened right up. They shared one and got back in the car for the trip back.

You went swimming again, so you showered in your bikini and were walking around in it when the boys came back. Your coverup draped and tied around your waist. You had a plum in one hand, your book in the other and you were visible at the side of the house where the boys had parked the car. The two of them were coming out of the car when they both laid eyes on you at the same time, both instinctively putting their arms out to stop each other in their tracks. Patrick’s arm across Art’s chest and Art’s arm across Patrick’s.

Their arms dropped simutaneously. “Fuck.” Patrick said.

Art nodded. There wasn’t much else to say.

You didn’t notice them until they walked in, Art holding the new lighter, cigarettes and some red liquorice. You grinned. “That was fast. You were gone, what? Two hours?”

Both boys were a little dazed. You put your book down, wiping your lower lip of the juice from the plum, but it was on your chin, dropped onto your chest. They both just watched you, mouthes a little open. You looked down, confused. Immediately both boys went separate ways.

You shrugged, tossing the pit of your plum out the window and into the garden.

Dinner was nice, by the fire again. You’d broken out the hard lemonades again and vodka and orange soda. Unfortunately for Art and Patrick, you’d stayed in your bikini and skirt-like cover up. It was hard to not be.

Patrick shook his head, “At what age did you guys start finding girls attractive?” He questioned, raising his can in question.

“Twelve,” you replied faster than Art did. Art and Patrick raised their eyebrows.

“Uh… Twelve, yeah,” Art agreed, taking a sip of his drink, eyes on you. You just smiled.

You finished your drink, “I think that’s around when Patrick taught you that neat little lesson.” You teased, reaching over and rubbing Art’s shoulder.

His head fell into his empty hand, “Please, no. Not that.” He groaned, but he was smiling.

“Teach a man to fish,” Patrick said, trailing off and cracking you another can, exchanging it for your empty one. “You can never say I’m good for nothing on that one, Art.”

“Okay, well who was doing it first?” Art questioned Patrick, tossing a stick he’d been fidgeting with.

“Me, I just knew from an early age,” he grinned. “I’m curious though, when did that happen for you?” He asked you, shifting a little in his seat and grinning directly at Art, who shifted just the same.

You bit your lip thinking, “I think around thirteen, maybe. The shower head.” You grinned. Art hid his face. “I was a little bit creative.”

“Does that even count?” Patrick said. “If you’re not putting in the work yourself.”

“I think so,” you replied. “That followed soon enough after.”

Art adjusted himself again. Patrick was watching him squirm, teasing indirectly. He knew the effect this conversation would have on him. You brought it up anyway, it wasn’t his fault.

“First kiss at sixteen,” you sighed. “Was not fun.”

Art turned to you, “I thought it was fifteen?”

“Sixteen. Bella James. Then I kissed a guy for the first time about a few months later.”

“I forgot about that,” Patrick said, huge smirk on his face. “I still have that photo of you and Bella somewhere in my room.”

“Shut up, you do not,” you gasped, grabbing the arm of the lawn chair. “Art-“

“He’s seen it,” Patrick nodded.

“It’s true.” Art cringed. “Hot, though.”

“Was it?”

“Oh yeah,” Art smiled over at you. You rolled your eyes at both of them, standing up. “Where are you going?”

You shook your head, “To get my watermelon vodka.” You stated. “I need something stronger.”

Both boys watched you go up the steps to the cottage, shamelessly. The second you were inside, Patrick moved from his chair over to Art. “That was too good.”

“It was not,” Art groaned. “She’s too much.”

“It’s not just me, then,” Patrick said, leaning into Art, crouched next to him in the chair. “I should have picked up a magazine when we were out earlier.”

You returned down the steps and Patrick returned to his chair. You’d changed back into Art’s sweater and a skort. You had a shot on your way down the steps and sat right back in Art’s lap like the day before.

Patrick laughed out loud and clapped but Art death stared him into silence. You three drank until it was hard not to laugh at simple things and Patrick and you got back into another debate about which flavour of sour patch kid is best. Art sided with you because nothing beat the blue one.

You were standing up, thank god Art could fix where his dick was in his boxers while you yelled at Patrick over the orange sour patch kids. Art just leaned onto his hand, watching you, watching Patrick. It was the stupidest thing.

Patrick got in your face as per usual and you stared right back. His intimidation would never work on you. “Orange tastes like ass,” Patrick said, voice lowered now.

“And you’d know, bottom-feeder,” you chuckled with a smirk, getting closer to Patrick’s face. Art grinned. You were so perfect.

Patrick narrowed his eyes, looking down at you with the heat of the debate in his expression. “At least I actually get ass and don’t just have one.”

You laughed, “That’s supposed to offend me? That’s a compliment, Patrick. A good attempt, though.”

He rolled his eyes, “Nobody said it was nice.”

“Art will testify,” you said, nodding back at Art. His eyes widened. “Tell Patrick it’s nice.”

“It’s nice,” Art obliged.

You turned back to Patrick, “See?”

“You made him say it,” Patrick shrugged, tapping the side of his own nose. “If he meant it he’d say it for himself.”

“I hear what you say about me behind closed doors, Patrick, and I think you do think it’s nice.” You taunted him. Patrick’s smirk only grew bigger and he tapped you under the chin again. Art sat up. Heard them? That wasn’t good…

Patrick, half-lidded, looked at you like a meal. Art, who was adjusted well enough, got a handle on your hips and pulled you back away from him and back onto his lap. You thought nothing of it, just getting comfortable back on Art’s lap like it was the simplest thing on earth. Your arm around him you played with the curls at the back of his head. The debate was over, it had gone a little too far.

Patrick, hard, sat back in his chair and mumbled, “I still think orange is the worst out of all of them.”

“Dead wrong,” you mumbled as well.

Art huffed, his hand on your arm, thumb rubbing up and down your skin. You looked him in the eyes, a bit of a pout to your lips. Art wondered if you’d heard what he had said about you, wishing maybe he’d phrased things better, wondering if they bothered you. He stared back, looking at how the flickering flames danced across your face.

“I’m going to bed, I’ve had too much.” Rare words from Patrick, but it was a debate you both lost this time and maybe it was a little discouraging. Patrick was a big drinker so of course he stumbled up those steps. “See you guys tomorrow.” He said.

“Goodnight!” Art called.

“Goodnight,” you spoke, attention back on Art. You and Patrick were a few drinks deeper than Art, it’s why the debate was a little much. You looked back at Art, your hand still playing with his curls, twirling them, pushing his hair behind his ear. One of his hands rested on the back of your arm, thumb still rubbing over your soft skin and the other hand resting on your knee, doing the very same. “You’re quiet.” You hummed, pushing your fingers through his hair gently.

“You’re drunk,” Art replied with a small smile. “I’m just thinking.”

“Mhm, what about?” You asked, eyes still locked on his. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes still bright and matching his small, sweet smile.

He looked at you, over you, softly. “Just you.” He replied.

“What about me?” You prodded, hand still gently twirling his curls.

“You’re pretty,” Art told you. You grinned and pressed one hand over half of your face shyly. “And I think I like you a lot more than I knew... Or would admit.” He admit slowly, but he grinned.

You grinned right back, but you shook your head a little, “I hate that I’ll forget this. You have to tell me again tomorrow so I remember.”

He laughed, “I will, I will.” He didn't want to- he didn't know if he could. And he looked at your perfect lips in the orange glow. He could have kissed you, but he would have hated for you to forget it. Your lips pulled with that same smile and Art patted your leg twice. For now, I think we should get you some water.”

“Do you really think my ass is nice?” You asked him, climbing off of his lap. “Just since we’re on the topic, I mean.” Art nodded and it seemed to be the right answer. He put out the fire and helped you upstairs. After a glass of water, you thanked him at the door of your bedroom. “Goodnight, Art.” You said. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his arms went perfectly around your torso and he squeezed you tight. You kissed his cheek to say a final goodnight.

“Goodnight,” Art told you. He went to bed after that.

Art and Patrick had a moment alone the next day. They knew you were out of earshot for sure this time, watching you down by the beach, pulling out the kayaks.

“I’d have her babies,” Patrick said, looking at you. “Please tell me something good happened after I came up here and passed out.”

Art couldn’t tell Patrick what he’d said last night. “Mmm no. We only talked a minute and came back up here. You guys need to chill out on the debate stuff, that’s all I know.”

“Oh you wish you were in on all that. She’s in my face, Art, you saw it. It’s so easy to rile her up, you should try it.”

Art shrugged, “Maybe, yeah, but come on, she said she heard what you said about her behind closed doors. We can’t be objectifying her just because she’s the only girl around.” He said.

Patrick twisted his mouth to the side. “I don’t know, I thought she liked it.”

“Maybe, but I mean… can’t be too safe.” Art shrugged again. “I just don’t want her uncomfortable. Not with us.”

“She couldn’t be, come on. It’s us. She’s used to it by now I’m sure.”

“Just ease up,” Art said. “Make sure she’s far out of earshot otherwise.” They were both men, they knew how they acted when a woman was hot, but Art was a little too worried.

The day passed and it was good. More swimming, more eating. Patrick ate four burgers, buns and all like it was nothing. You had an afternoon nap on the couch, Art falling asleep with his head on your stomach, arms wrapped around your legs. Patrick chuckled to himself as he passed it- it was a sight for sure.

Dinner was simple, then it was over. Art wondered if you remembered what he’d said. He guessed not, taking your drunken word that you hadn’t remembered. You were in the kitchen talking to Patrick about your watermelon vodka and he was leaned against the marble, face close to yours. Maybe it bothered Art how close he was to you. It wasn’t anything new, Patrick liked to lean into whoever he was talking to.

Art had to remind himself you hadn’t said anything to him last night after he said what he said. He usually watched you and Patrick talk because it was funny, but this time something in Art’s chest tightened.

Maybe it was the fact you were the only girl around, he thought. It wasn’t though. Art has liked you for years upon years without admitting it to anyone, hardly to himself. You were just best friends, that’s how things were. Yeah, he thought about kissing you. Yeah, he wondered what you’d look like under him. But he wouldn’t admit it. It wasn’t the fact you were the only girl but rather the fact you were the only girl. If that made any sense.

Art walked over, standing beside you. You instinctively put your arm around his waist and leaned against him like a pole and it brought some ease to Art’s moment of jealousy as he draped his arm around your shoulder. Patrick and Art locked eyes and with a furrow of his brow, Patrick narrowed his eyes. “So are we drinking again?”

“If you want,” you shrugged, handing him the bottle. “Art?”

“Sure, yeah,” Art nodded, looking at you. He liked the way your hand rested on the opposite side of him, around his torso. “Let’s not start debates tonight though, mkay?”

“Oh yeah,” you chuckled. “What was last night’s?”

“Sour patch kids,” Patrick said, opening the vodka and taking a swig. He passed the bottle to Art, who did the same. “That’s so good, what.”

Art nodded, “That is good.” He passed you the bottle, but you only had a sip. You weren’t looking to not remember the night again. Plus waking up in the morning was hard enough. “Not drinking?”

“Not much,” you nodded.

“That’s okay,” Art nodded back.

The night went forward and the boys were getting drunk and you only the slightest bit tipsy. Part of you knew that both of them drunk meant babysitting so they didn’t try and reach for the boat keys and die.

You sat on the coach the drunk boys had dragged outside and only the back porch of the cottage- you stopped them from bringing it down the stairs. Patrick sat next to you pulling you in and messing up your hair. “Hey- come on,” you laughed. It was impossible to mess up a boy’s hair, especially when it was curly. “That’s not fair.”

“Alls fair in love and war,” Patrick replied.

You laughed harder, “Where did you hear that?” It was so weird to hear from Patrick’s mouth. “You’re so weird.”

“I’m weird?” Patrick said, letting you go but keeping you close. His hand fell to your thigh. “If anyone here is weird it’s you.”

“Uh huh?” You smiled. “Me? Not you who decides to bring a couch outside? Not you who ate an entire pack of hot dogs after saying you weren’t hungry?” You smiled and twisted into sitting on your knees, facing him.

Art came back from the bathroom, rubbing his eyes, opening them to see you and Patrick the way you were. He was drunk, more so than the night before and that was a bit much. Patrick did the thing he’d done forever, tapping you under your chin, but your faces were so close…

“You have so many freckles,” you observed. “You can hardly see them if you don’t look.”

“You’re really ugly up close,” Patrick retorted and you hit him upside the head playfully. Art stood by the screen doorway. “Okay, I’m sorry! You’re really pretty!”

“Oh you think I’m pretty?” You questioned as if it was something to challenge. Patrick, half-lidded tapped under your chin again. Art felt sick. If there was something to be jealous about it’s that you would probably remember Patrick calling you pretty, not Art.

“Maybe,” Patrick leaned closer and he was going to kiss you, but he didn’t, not yet. Art swallowed hard. Your faces were inches from each other’s. Even through the alcohol Art felt the twinges in his chest and stomach.

“Patrick,” you started, slowly backing away. “You’re drunk.”

“Maybe to that too,” he shrugged. You backed away more. Art couldn’t do it, he opened the door and stepped out back onto the porch. You turned your head and grinned at his reproach. Art didn’t say anything, he just grabbed the vodka and took what looked like a painful two gulps.

“Oh-“ you started, but Art wiped his lip and sat back down on the couch next to you and you rearranged the way you sat immediately to be closer to Art. Art didn’t even look at Patrick, instead, he just pulled you onto his lap. This time, it wasn’t of your own volition. You didn’t think anything of it. Patrick just used the extra space on the couch for his feet.

The conversation was fine. Civil with a lot of laughter, Art could get into it but the extra vodka he’d had was being pumped around his bloodstream without a doubt. Instead of his hand resting on your upper knee, it rested on your thigh and his thumb grazed back and forth like it did the night before. He was lucky to have a moment to adjust himself because even with the amount of alcohol he’d had, his body still held enough attraction. You were smiling, so beautiful, Art thought.

Patrick knew he’d fucked up but the alcohol helped to make him not worry about it too much. You pat Art on the cheek, “You and Patrick have kissed, right?” You asked out of the blue. The two looked at each other.

“Uh- hm- yeah,” Art said, clearing his throat, looking at Patrick.

You smiled, finishing a can of point five alcohol. “Okay so I have a question. Would you guys call each other a good kisser?”

Art and Patrick shared another look and you just giggled. They both didn’t know what to say- Patrick shrugged and Art opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t. Both boys went through a few stages in a matter of seconds and Patrick let out a strangled sort of, “Yes?”

“Yes?” You gasped, turning to look at Art.

“Sure?” Art shrugged. “I don’t know, I don’t really… remember. It was two years ago.” He slightly slurred.

Patrick agreed. “It was a while back.” You giggled again, Patrick shrugged. “I mean, you’ve kissed Art for fun, you’d know if he is or not.”

You gasped a little, “Oh that’s right! The spin the bottle in senior year, I totally forgot about that!” You turned back to Patrick, “It was only a peck, though. Just a quick kiss.”

Art hadn’t forgotten it. Today he was thinking that would be the only time he got to kiss you. He stared at your lips now, their colour perfect, so soft, he was a little dazed. You and Patrick talked about how you only joked about being sisterwives, but it was more true than you remembered. Art just stared, his hands moving over your hips and wrapping around your waist, looking up at you. God, you were so perfect and he was very drunk.

He felt oddly at ease with how you’d been with Patrick earlier. You’d refused him, backing away when he got closer and Art could be happy with that. You didn’t mind Art’s hands around your waist. At first it was positioned like a hug around the waist but now it was just hands, his grip. The curve of your waist was so perfect, you were so perfectly structured. His finger slid across the hem of your shirt and touched a sliver of your skin and you were so soft, too soft. Art, sweet, no matter how much he drank, no matter how much he felt, fixed your shirt so that he couldn’t feel your skin anymore. You bent from where you sat and kissed the top of his head.

There was a shared cigarette amongst friends and you got up from Art’s lap and trailed your hand across his cheek as you went inside to get your sweater on. His sweater. It was the first moment Art and Patrick were alone since the morning.

“You like her,” Patrick said, taking a drag off the near-end of the cigarette and handing it over to Art. Art, dazed, drunk, nic-buzzed, just nodded. “Thought so.”

Art inhaled, exhaling the smoke and passing it back, “Might just.” He said, a bit slurred, rubbing his face with his hands. “I’m so fucked, hm?”

“Maybe, yeah,” Patrick chuckled, leaning forward and ruffling Art’s hair. Art flushed a bit, turning just the slightest bit pink. It was a sort of unspoken apology for getting so close to you, is what that action meant.

“This sucks,” Art mumbled. He admit it, somewhat, out in the open for the first time. Art closed his eyes and the world spun around him and he flopped backward on the couch. Your hands are what woke him- he’d passed right out, so tired.

You pat him on the cheek, “Hey, let’s get you some water and to bed.” You said. Patrick helped Art to his feet and he leaned against him walking into the house. “That was a lot of vodka.” You said, giving him water. You held it with him just in case he dropped it. You made him drink the whole cup.

“Mmmhhm,” Art smiled. You were so pretty, so sweet, so caring. “You know you’re a remarkably beautiful woman.” He said, slurring. He said it very matter-of-factly. You chuckled at his choice of words.

“Thank you, lovely,” you smiled, helping him to bed.

“Goodnight drunk Art,” He heard Patrick like an echo. Patrick left the room. He didn’t say goodnight back. He was focused on the lovely part.

Art took his shirt off, throwing it across the room and immediately fell limp on his pillow again, you’d stayed. You put your hand on his chest and he grabbed it. The last thing he remembered was saying, “I’m so fucked.” Before it was suddenly morning.

Art groaned and rolled out of bed, not even caring that he rolled onto the carpet on the floor. He just picked himself up and rubbed his eyes, leaving the bedroom. No headache, just super groggy.

He opened the bedroom door and you and Patrick were sitting opposite sides of the coffee table, different couches. It had been moved back at some point. Art was a little relieved to see how far apart you were. He remembered most of last night, to his dismay. “Hey, sleepyhead,” you said, getting up. “How are you feeling?”

Art was so glad he had hit or miss hangovers. “Gross, but fine.” He replied. You walked into the kitchen and poured him a cup of coffee from the pot, making it exactly how he liked it. You put it in his hands, “Thank you.” He smiled.

“Of course,” you smiled back. You both went to sit on the couch and the conversation about the day included plans of swimming and going back out on the boat once Art was feeling better.

The day was good, warm. The same as any. Art felt better about noon. You were on the boat yelling lyrics to an Avril Lavigne song and Patrick was unabashedly singing along. Art felt so much better, clapping when you shoved Patrick right off the boat at the chorus. You raised your hands above your head triumphantly and jumped a few times.

Art, of course, helped Patrick get back onto the boat, only to get pulled into the water. You couldn’t stop laughing but it was only a matter of time before both boys manage to wrangle you into the water with them, Patrick throwing seaweed at you as you screamed. You clung onto Art in the water as if he was a stable point. Your eyes met, eyelashes wet and you fought your smile as best you could.

Dinner was hot dogs again by the fire and it was followed by s’mores. All day you hadn’t been able to get your mind off of the way Art had held your waist last night. You knew he was out of it, he called you ‘remarkably beautiful’, but in every moment you had to yourself you were trying to relive the feeling, almost like the ghost of his hands were still there. You thought about when his hand slipped under the bottom of your shirt and touched your bare skin…

Patrick snapped in your face. “Earth to Y/N. I’m beat, I’m heading up to bed early tonight if that’s okay.”

“Oh yeah, that’s fine.” You said. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight!” Art called.

“Night guys!” Patrick went upstairs and turned the lights out. That left you and Art down by the fire alone.

You stood up, pulling your hair over your shoulder. Another night in Art’s sweater and your shorts. “You coming?” You asked. His eyes narrowed.

“Where?”

You shrugged, “With me.” And you smiled just a little, walking down the dock. The moon reflecting off the lake was the brightest light around. It was warm, yellow, nearly. Warm July moonlight, chopping itself up in the gentle waves. Art followed you, why wouldn’t he? “I don’t think I want to go back to the city after this.” You sighed, sitting on the edge of the dock. Art sat next to you.

“Me neither,” he chuckled, moving some hair from your face. “Patrick might go stir crazy, though, so if you planned on keeping us with you, don’t.”

You grinned, letting him tuck the hair behind your ear in the soft wind. He stayed focused on every move of your features, the way your eyelashes moved when you looked up, then down, then back at him. “You think you’d miss tennis?”

“I probably would eventually,” he said. “But this week, no. I don’t miss it. It’s good to be away from training and practicing and all the pressure and just be with friends.”

You nodded, “I understand. It’s been good to get away from things. Reminds me of when we would spend the summers in the forest, before tennis, before work, before school. All that.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think Patrick misses that a lot. He lives in the past a lot, thinking about when things were ‘better’. I mean he doesn’t do much aside from tennis at all so I get it, but he’s very hung up on it. Misses it.”

“You don’t miss it?”

He met your eyes, “I do miss it. But like in a fond way, not in the way where I wish I was still there.” He shrugged. “I don’t particularly enjoy thinking about how I looked when we were running around those forests.”

“Braces and buzzcut,” you smiled. “I remember.”

“You shouldn’t,” Art laughed. “How could I forget about the three tank tops you layered on top of each other?”

“Fashion statement versus buzzcut…” you hummed, teasing, leaning your head into his shoulder and rocking back. “I miss it.”

He looked at you with everything he thought about you resting on his tongue. You, here, moonlit in the night, so perfect. He smiled, only the simplest, most fond things filled his mind. You narrowed your eyes at him, but you knew. “What’s on your mind?” You asked.

Art took a moment to answer. He was too sober to tell you, you were too sober to tell. It was you, just as it was the other night. You on his mind- his best friend, one of his closest friends, keeper of his boyish secrets, one of two people in this world who could read his mind. He wondered if you could read his mind right now as his heart beat hard in his chest over the question. You could, but he kept wondering.

You took his sweater off and underneath was only your bikini top. You stood up from where you sat and rid yourself of your shorts as well. Art was confused until you jumped into the water. Gracefully, easily. It was dark aside from the moon and nearby fire and for a second or two you were gone, but you resurfaced, hair wet. “You coming?” You asked again, the other question postponed. Art smiled and took off his shirt, already in his trunks, and jumped in after you.

You were in the middle, so you were both just up to your waists. You cupped water in your hands and poured it right over his head. You were so cute… he slicked his hair back and grinned his crooked grin. It was exactly what you’d been looking for. “Mhm?” Art said, wiping water from his eyes. “That’s how it is?”

“Mhm,” you replied. It was only a matter of seconds before he grabbed you and took the both of you underwater. You came up laughing and wiping your eyes. “Really?”!you said, lunging forward at him in the water- the intention was to do the same to him, but you really just wrapped your arms around his neck and stopped, dead in your tracks.

The pause was only seconds, a full action became a full stop, his eyes met yours, and not even a second later, your lips met. You kissed him, he kissed you, mutually, with the same force. Your hands moving from around his neck to his jaw and his hands on your waist. You’d kissed before but it was nothing like this, it couldn’t have been. This kiss was years in the making, subconsciously wished for, teased, thought about late night, thought about in quiet moments… and not just by Art.

His hands slid over your wet skin, over your back as your fingertips met the roots of his wet hair. He pulled you closer, his hands at the crook of your waist. From an outsiders perspective it was always supposed to end this way- and from an outsiders perspective, some would say it wasn’t just a kiss without any way to explain exactly just what it was, because they weren’t you. And they weren’t Art.

And they couldn’t ever be able to understand just how it felt when it was just you, just Art, alone in the shallows with a kiss that was strong and heavy with the weight of years and compiled collections of casual touches.

He hummed into it and you both smiled with every breath between. It was perfect, it was magic, it was sweet. The air warm, the water cool. God, you were perfect, you were so perfect and it was all Art could think about as your hands moved down and his moved up, taking his turn to cup your face between his hands and kiss you harder than before as your hand slid down his chest, across his bare stomach. You giggled at the way he kissed you harder and it made him smile but neither of you stopped for a moment, neither of you missed a beat. He pushed your wet hair behind your ear when you eventually pulled away, keeping his face close, just hovering.

Lips wet, sweet breath, a mutual sigh, that lead to a shared laugh. Art, hands still on either side of your face, kissed you again, just because he could. You kissed him back just the same and he pulled away gently once more. This time you kissed him again, like it was a newfound addiction. He chuckled and pulled you closer once more and the kiss went on a while longer, not hungry, not desperate, just easy. Waited for.

Eventually it did end and you decided to get out of the water, it was with knowing smiles that you collected your clothes and dried off again. You pulled a towel off the clothesline, drying your hair, “I have to admit I’ve wanted that for longer than you know,” you admit, fighting your lips from pulling upward.

Art, with the largest crooked grin on his face, moved closer and grabbed his own towel from earlier. “Really?”

You nodded, “Mhm.”

“Me too,” he said, sheepishly. Art was reduced to a boy the way you looked at him, your lips pink from the kissing, semi-wet hair still just blowing in the wind. Gentle. He dried his own hair and threw the towel back on the line. “How long?” He pulled you in by the crook of your waist again, batting away the fact that he as a grown man had butterflies. You just smirked.

“Too long,” you said, slipping out of his grasp and running up the steps. You spent a moment apart to get changed properly and quietly, as to not wake Patrick. He met you on the couch again, unable to stop thinking about you in any capacity. You, fully clothed, comfortable, tired, lack of makeup, hair still damp, were the most beautiful person he had ever seen and he just wanted to stare at you the way he always had, but this time knowing.

He chuckled as you leaned against him without words, draping an arm around you as you settled in against him. No more words were needed, there was not much more to say. You ended up talking until you both somehow fell asleep.

Patrick woke up before you, having gone to bed first and seeing you laying on Art’s chest, both his arms around you, one of your legs draped over his lower half, he knew.

It was the difference in distance that told him- when one of you fell asleep there was always enough respect to have levels. He got himself a cup of orange juice, came back and he knew, chuckling to himself. They say trios don’t last, but it wasn’t the end of it when you and Art got together after that trip. Just meant you and Patrick were even closer sisterwives and he was fine with that. Art was fine with that. You were fine with that.

From an outsider's perspective, they would have said nothing changed.

#art donaldson #challengers #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #challengers x reader #challengers fic #art x reader #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fluff #challengers movie #challengers fluff #tinytennisskirt

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xxsteveharringtonxx · 7 months ago

Text

Driving For Dummies

Steve Harrington x Reader

Steve wasn’t sure how you managed to rope him into this.

He didn’t let anyone drive his car.

Yet here you were in the driving seat for a change and he was sat next to you, slightly scared for his life and definitely scared for his car.

“Steve you’re meant to be teaching me!” You hissed, eyes unmoving and both hands clasped to the steering wheel. “How do you make this look so easy!” You yelped out as you narrowly dodged someone cycling.

“Jesus Christ sweetheart can you just, just concentrate.” He responded looking nervously over the dash and at the road ahead.

“Well tell me how I’m doing, what am I doing wrong?” You asked frustrated, it was around 8pm the sun only just setting across Hawkins and the breeze through the car was helping you relax.

A little.

“You’re doing great just, ease up a little. You get any closer to the steering wheel you could make out with it.” He told you in a sarcastic tone.

You did relax, your knuckles no longer white from clutching the wheel, knees not so locked up.

Rolling your shoulders back you took a deep breath.

“Think I’m ready for my test?” You asked jokingly and Steve’s scoff made you glare at the empty road ahead of you.

“You are a useless teacher.” You grumbled making him laugh out loud.

“And you are a lousy driver.” His tone was teasing but made you want to hit him nonetheless. “How have you made it to twenty four without a license anyway?” He quizzed as he fiddled with the radio station.

“I’ve always had you to drive me.” Your tone was sickly sweet, and it warmed him to hear you speak of him like that whether it was a joke or not.

He loved that it was true, you did have him, in any way you wanted him truth be told.

He did take you to school, and drop you off, he then took you to work and dropped you back home. He even drove all the way to Chicago a few times to take you back to college or to pick you up when you were home sick.

“Great, I enabled this.” Was his reply instead with a playful eye roll.

Less pathetic.

“You did, and that’s why you have to teach me how to drive. I want my own car without nagging you every five minutes for a ride.” You whined as he finally settled on a station, Foreigner playing one of their soppy love songs he refused to admit he loved.

“What if I love you calling every five minutes for a ride?” Steve asked looking over to you.

“I know you don’t.” You mumbled pulling over to the side of the road. “Can you drive us back please?” You’d asked making him grin.

“If I do am I enabling this habit further?” He asked making you giggle.

“What if I love you enabling my habit?” You joked right back, using his own words against him.

“You look prettier sitting passenger anyway.” He stated and reached over to run his thumb over the crease lines between your eyebrows to soothe them. “You frown when you concentrate.” He added in a softer more gentle tone.

Nothing else was said but you both got out and crossed each other walking round the car to swap sides, his fingers brushed your arm as you did and you drove back through Hawkins in silence.

“How many more lessons do you think I need?” You asked rolling your head onto your shoulder and taking him in.

Sun kissed skin and a slightly red tint on his cheeks suggesting he definitely didn’t put on SPF like he told you he did this morning.

He sent you back an easy smile and wink.

“One hundred, and I’m going to start charging.” Smiling fondly at his words you reached over to poke his cheek.

“It sounds like you want to drive me around forever Harrington.” Your teasing words once again warmed him.

“Let’s test that theory sweetheart.” He finalised pulling up outside the small place he’d bought a year back, the other side of Hawkins to his parents but it suited Steve.

It was small and cozy but it was his and he loved it. He loved it more when you were there, which in all honesty was most of the time, he’d told you a hundred times just to move in but you never officially did.

“Same time again tomorrow?” You asked pushing the door open as his arms wrapped around your waist from his place behind you.

“Hmm maybe.” He offered dropping a soft kiss on the side of your neck.

“Maybe?!” You screeched outraged turning in his arms and wrapping your own around his neck.

“I said I was going to start charging.” He reminded before pouting for another kiss that you reached up to plant on his lips.

“What’s the cost Harrington?” Playing along as he walked you backwards to the sofa.

He pretended to think before kissing you again.

“I can think of a few things.” He purred once more before you were both laying on the couch, Steve hovering over you. “Besides, I think I’m pretty happy driving you around forever.” He informed making you smile up at him.

“Well if that’s the case you don’t need all the kisses in lieu of payment.” You mocked making him shake his head.

“Oh no, no you definitely have to keep kissing me. I might die if you ever stop.” You both laughed at the dramatic turn of his words.

“Well I can’t let that happen can I.”

“Absolutely not.” He scolded kissing you one final time.

Okay, you thought happily.

He can drive you everywhere forever.

#steve harrington fluff #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington drabble

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thewritersofdeceased · 6 months ago

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Hiiii! Sorry Ik you've done something like this b4, but I really loved it😭

I was wondering if you could do something with dating Darry and the rest of the gang kind of see's you as a motherly figure 😭🙏

Ill leave it up to your imagination for this, and if you can do it, could you keep this anonymous please 🙏😭❤

Hey hey, thank you for the request! I think I got an idea for this actually, so this works perfectly! Last time I did Darry x Motherly!reader I think was for a Christmas fic, so I've gotten something for summer this time! And ofc it'll stay anonymous dw dear! : ] She/Her pronouns for this one!

Being a parental figure was surely a pain in the ass. From Tulsa, Oklahoma all the way to a lake called, or notably known as "Lake Murray", Y/N drove with the more louder of the group of Greasers. Sitting besides her was Two-Bit, who she could handle to an extent. She allowed him to take control of the radio, knowing damn well it would just be the same few songs on repeat. Behind Two-Bit was Dallas, the most annoying pain in the ass Y/N dealt with. Then there was Steve, who wasn't exactly annoying, but could be whenever he was with Soda, who had been with his brothers and Johnny in Darry's truck. So Y/N was stuck with these three as she drove. Not like she had a problem with it. Maybe just Dally's smoking problem and Two-Bit's silly antics as he whistled to girls they drove by. Which is exactly what happened as they four continued to make their way towards the lake.

"Hey there beautiful!" Two-Bit called out, half his body out the window as he called out to a girl just walking with her friends. It resulted in him being pulled in by the jacket by Y/N, who had a rather annoyed expression. "Kieth Matthews! Knock it off or go sit in the back with Dallas and Steve!" She snapped at the older teenager, only earning "oooooh's" and "you're in troubleee" from the two behind her. Which resulted in her giving a death glare from the mirror. "Okay, okay! I won't do it anymore, mom!" Two-Bit yelled out, laughing his ass off right after. Y/N scoffed as she focused on driving. She was only two years older than the teenager, being twenty whilst Darry was twenty-two. As the boys in the backseat conversated with Two-Bit and one another, Y/N kept her calm as she drove.

All the calmness in her body had slowly drifted away as they arrived at the lake, parking besides her boyfriend's car. There was no sight of the four that had driven in her boyfriends car, so she tested her head on the steering wheel for a couple seconds. "Go on, you three. I'll be there soon. Bring your bags and go change in the bathrooms." She mumbled out, earning cheers from the three boys who got out the car with their stuff and quickly ran off to go change. At least Steve and Two-Bit had, Dally trailed behind smoking a cigarette. It wasn't until around five minutes after did Y/N get out of the car and make her way towards where the other boys was. She hadn't even noticed her boyfriend making his way over, having told his second "kid brother" to make sure Ponyboy didn't drown and for nobody to pick on Johnny.

"Hello, love." Darry's voice caught her attention as she looked up to him. "Well hello to you too, superman." Y/N teased, giving a small smile to Darry as he leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss. A loving and gentle one. Darry wasn't a huge PDA person, preferring to keep all lovey dovey things away from the public eye. Public love was just… icky to the oldest Curtis brother. Unlike Soda and Steve, that was. He preferred gentle mornings, waking up side by side, making y/n breakfast, things of the such. As he looked down to his love, a soft question escaped her, her eyes staring up into Darrel’s.. “Did the boys put any sunscreen on?” Of course she was to worry about the boys. A slight chuckle escaped the older boy, which had already given Y/N an answer to her question. Grabbing Darry’s hand and beginning to drag him towards the beach by the lake once more, she called out with a stern tone of voice. “Greasers! Get your asses over here now!” Darry himself didn’t tense up, but he took note of how Dallas and Two-Bit had. “Oh, and you have full permission to lecture Two-Bit. Wouldn’t stop hollerin’ at girls from the window.” She explained, watching as the six greasers had gotten out of the water, making their way over to stand in front of Y/N and Darry by their stuff under a tree.

As Y/N stood with her arms crossed, she watched each of the boys with careful eyes. Ponyboy was more towards the back with Johnny, who had been fidgeting with his hands, whether it was cracking them or just messing with his nails. Y/N noticed it. She understood why. She used to do it before she had met Darry, preferring to keep her distance and stick to the side of the oldest greaser at the time. Two-Bit was standing with his thumbs tucked into his swim-trunks pocket, having changed in the bathroom as his jacket now laid out on his towel. It’d be all sandy, which wasn’t going to be fun when it came to Y/N’s car. Steve and Sodapop were leaning against one another, shoulder to shoulder, and Dallas? Of course he was smoking a cigarette without a care in the world. Each boy kept their eyes on Y/N, besides Johnny, who couldn’t keep eye contact and was currently staring at the sand below them all. With a calmer tone of voice, Y/N spoke up. “Did you boys put sunscreen on?” She asked, resulting in groans escaping all the boys.

“We’re not little kids, we don’t need the sunscreen,mom!” There was the commont that made everyone confused. Two-Bit had a teasing smile on his face, before Y/N looked to Darry. Who merely held his hands up in response. “Go on, have at it.” And with that, Two-Bit knew what to do. “RUN!” He shouted with a playful tone, turning to run towards the water again, with Y/N hot on his heels. “Get back here, Kieth!”

#Darry Curtis x reader #Ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #Johnny cade #steve randle #two bit matthews #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders imagine

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schlattslonghairytoes · 1 month ago

Note

omg wait i just sent in the baby it’s cold outside request and im now realizing that YOU PLANTEF THE SEED IN MY BRAIN WITH YOUR HCS WHEN I CATCH YOU!!

but if you don’t mind could you please go more into depth with that idea pls pls pls

the christmas spirit

you were sat on your sofa watching you boyfriends newest podcast episode, you were sorting through your own footage when you hear him talk about making a christmas album

now you knew he could sing, but an album worried you, he was no sinatra. so you decided to call him up and see what he was thinking

you clicked on his contact and began calling "jayjay😏" after 5 rings you really considered giving up, but you finally saw the word connecting

you again considered hanging up when he answered the phone looking like this.

"what." he groaned it a low pitched voice, you giggled before realizing what time it was by him

"jay why were you sleeping at five P.M" you squinted your eyes at him

"im tired." he deadpanned. you sighed before laughing again at his mad face, before you could speak he began to stretch and the angle where he dropped his phone gave you a full view of his beautiful body.

"do you know hot you are?" you ask admiring your boyfriend.

"ill hang up on you, slut." he never did like compliments.

"brat, anyways." you rolled your eyes "i just finished watching chuckle, you looked very cute, but what was this about a christmas album?"

his face lit up "i forgot to tell you! okay so remember my way, well i know you remember it but you get it, i wanted a new project to focus on so im going to make a christmas album!"

schlatt found it very hard to focus on one thing for a prolonged period of time, but he always loved singing so you believed this would be good for him.

"babe and how are you gonna do that?" you questioned, he began to pout as he walked to his bathroom and set down his phone on the counter

"what you dont beweve in me?" he asked in a weird baby voice, while alos having a mouth full of toothpaste

"gross. no of course i do, but i mean your gonna need a producer, a person to re-write the music so you can own it, a vocal coach, how much is this gonna cost you?" you voiced your concerns

"not as much as ill make from it" he laughed

"ugh i hate you" a sigh escaped you but he persisted

"and one more thing.. i want you to be in it."

-if there is one thing you knew about yourself, it was that you were not about to be one of those youtubers who started making shitty music

-so when i tell you it took a long time to get schlatt to convince you to be on the album, it took months

-but when you eventually came around schlatt was ecstatic

-and honestly you were kinda excited too, you would get to see your boyfriend after not seeing him for over a month

-and with this album drop, you both agreed it would basically be your own version of a hard launch

-you wanted to pick songs that would compliment both of your voices, but also make it pretty clear you were more then just friends

-you chose santa baby and baby its cold outside, but schlatt added another, your favorite song, something stupid by frank and nancy sinatra

-you were so excited to see him that the thought of having to sing that well didnt even cross your mind

-but you boarded your flight to LA without second thought, excited to see your favorite boy when you landed

schlatt fucking hates Los Angeles, its hot, the people suck ass, theres always traffic, and right now, the fact that your not with him is driving him insane.

your flight should be landing any minute, and hes sitting in an airport trying to hide and make sure no one recognizes him.

the reason that becoming increasingly difficult is because fucking jack manifold, tom simons, and harry tornado (average harry), waltz off the plane, into the airport, in los angeles.

where everyone is always looking for someone to recognize.

schlatt is hiding twenty feet away from them, but hes already gotten noticed four times, the man cant catch a break.

he just wants to see his girlfriend, not interact with his fuckass fans

that fact that your relationship was private didnt help, he would one hundred percent makeout with you in the middle of the airport, but now that you have planned your hardlaunch he has to contain himself.

harry and jack were taking a picture with a fan, and tom was pissing as usual when schlatt finally saw you

he launched himself up and flailed his arms around like a clown to you, when you saw him you bolted across the floor and threw your bags at harry, who fell over from the force.

like flat on his ass.

you ran and jumped your man “i missed you so much baby” you laughed

“there is a group of teenage girls to your left that have their phones out, i love you so fucking much but save it for the bnb.” he smiled down at you

you giggled and looked over at the six girls, who were activley ignoring harry and tom who were awkwardly standing by them

"holy fucking shit im your biggest fan, please please please can i get a picture with you ive been watching you since i was fucking ten." one girl yelled

"kezia shut the hell up your gonna scare her away." another slapped her

"alanna you dont understand." she wailed

"you look alot like our art teacher" another added

"renn arent you a patron of her podcast?" holy fuck there were so many of them

they all began yelling over eachother and fan girling over you, "do you guys want a picture, or we can make a tiktok or something, up to you guys." you said politely

"can i be in it?" harry asked quietly

"um, sorry, who are you?" tom and jack started hysterically laughing and slapping harry

you guys ended up making a funny tiktok in the middle of LAX and they told you they were all friends because of an art class they have together.

after you all said our goodbyes you all loaded into ted's truck that schlatt was borrowing to haul you all around

you got in the passenger seat as schlatt went over the plan for the week

"okay, we have an airbnb for all of us, but two of you have to share a room, theres three in total. so jack tom and harry two of you will have to be sharing a bed, no homo in my airbnb do ya' hear me?"

they all burst out laughing and agree to schlatts terms

"okay, today once all of you are back at the bnb, im gonna head to the studio to record my solo songs, tommora' im recording with tom and jack, harry you can tag along or whatever, wednesday me and you are together"

he rested his hand on your thigh as he looked at you, his eyes full of stars, looking at you as if you had hung them

"then Thursday, me ludwig, quackity and theo are gonna be down there, the rest of the week is scheduled incase we need to re-record anything or just have fun, everyone undertand?"

he squeezed your thigh as he drove, eyes locked on you

"eyes on the road buddy" you pushed his head foward and sat back in your seat admiring you boyfriend as your friends wrestled in the back.

"harry cut it out, tom stop touching his bum or whatever you britsh fucks call it. youre being gay man, what did i say about that." schlatt jokes, he told you privately that he was bisexual so you knew his jokes were simply just jokes

you watched him as he yelled at the monkeys in the back seat and all you could think is how good of a dad hes going to be, you've spoke about kids before, and your both on the same page which is a huge relief.

you thought about what features your kids would get from him, and god you hoped it was his nose, you loved his nose.

"can ya' stop thinking so hard i swear i can hear your thought." he laughed as he stopped at a red light, looking over to you again

"i just love you so much." you laughed

"ew mom and dad are gonna fuck!" tom gagged

"get a room you perverts" harry lent over the middle console and made smooching noises, schlatt grabbed his face and pushed him back into his seat.

"this is gonna be a long fucking week, im gonna kill myself i swear." schlatt scoffed

"take me with you then" you sighed and slouched into your seat.

day one. (six days remaining)

you woke up with schlatts arms wrapped around your waist, good start.

you both woke up early so you could get breakfast for you and your kids, as you walked up the streets of LA all you could think about is how you want to spend the rest of your life with this man.

"penny for your thoughts?" he laughed, but was one of his calm laughs that was so genuine and unforced

"just love you, love us y'know? i wanna have a big house, a cat, maybe a dog, some little you's running around, i just cant wait to move in with you next month"

"if you say anything like that again ill fuck you right here. dont test me, im gonna have to walk around witha' boner now you whore"

your laugh escaped you and you had to bend over and stop walking as you look up at your now tomoato colored boyfriend.

"c'mon keep it moving." he gunted, a small smiled appearing on his stone cold face.

you ate breakfast together then made your way back to the bnb to deliver food to your "kiddos", soon after they all left for the studio so you decided to start a little project of your own, a suprise one

since schlatt was going to hard launch your realationship through something he loved, you decided you'd do the same

a little video about the love of your life

day two (five days remaining)

you and schlatt repeated the same routine in the morning, you went and got breakfast, went back the bnb, got changed and finally left for the studio

on your walk there schlatt warned you about the homeless person right infront of the studio

"no im so serious, he actually tried to stab me two days ago, and when i finaly got away from him he started yelling how he could take me, and not in a fight. let me tell you, he was not my type."

you both walked into the studio to be met by a italian man named David, but it was pronounced daviday.

he directed you both to a booth were you were instructed to drink tea and blow bubbles into a cup

"babe im starting to get nervous, if i fuck up, or have a voice crack, and you laugh at me. so help me god im breaking up with you" you told him

"lemme tell you what happened yesterday" he sat down and began drinking his tea. "i let harry sing one line on jingle bells and his voice went up and octave and cracked. it was so funny holy shit, i have to get that recording."

you both contiuned talking about the recording process so far, until david told you he was ready to begin, starting with baby its cold outside and you were gonna do a full run through no matter the mistakes.

the music counted in and you started off the song "i really cant stay" you sang. then your boyfriend came in with "but baby, its cold outside" and your eyes widened at how good he sounded

you went through the full thing and after the last line you laughed until you heard davids voice, "both of you, that was shit, do it again."

schlatt didnt even seem fazed by this. holy fuck you were in for a long day.

once david was semi happy with that song you moved onto something stupid, and that one went by much faster.

but the song you were dreading most was next, mostly cause you had to carry the whole song

schlatt started off the ong with the iconic bu-bum, bu-bum' when your voice came in "santa, baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me, been an awful good girl."

as you sang your eyes looked up at him an winked before you focused on singing again.

schlatt continued through the song, but the moment you were done, he scurred off to the bathroom while you did certain lines and verses over and over

when he came back, his face was significantly redder, but you just laughed and moved on, too focused on perfecting your song

you had been recording for over 12 hours now, both of you exhausted.

when you were finally done it was two am.

you called an uber and headed back to the bnb

as you fell asleep on schlatts chest, all you could think about was how you couldnt wait to upload the album, and finally live with the love of your life.

#guys i got lazy near the end #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt #schlatt imagine #christmas #holiday album #streamer reader x content creator schlatt

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moonstruck-poet · 2 months ago

Text

Survive pt. 2

Pairing - Carlos Sainz x wife!reader

Summary - Because of your job as a crime officer, a particularly dangerous mission has both you and your husband on the edge.

Warnings - blood, kidnapping, violence, torture, crying.

The drive to the target site was spent in nothing but silence. Your team of four settled in a car, all geared up with bulletproof vests, guns in your holsters and minds racing continuously.

Everybody's heart had a different rhythm to the other. Yours, quite surprisingly had a steady thump, Jess had started tapping her foot again which indicated to her irregular breathing, while the other two boys seemed as if they were going through all the seven stages of grief at once.

Nobody batted an eye when the driver informed them that they'll reach their destination in about five minutes. All just wordlessly pulling out their phones to give their loved ones a final text before departing.

You pulled out Carlos' contact, your fingers doing a little dance as you contemplated on what to write.

Hello love, will start work soon enough, thought of letting you know.

Te quiero mucho, mi vida. Síempre. Y te prometo que te veré pronto, amor <3

[I love you so much, my life. Always. And I promise I'll see you soon, love]

You exhaled deeply before pocketing your phone and looking at your teammates who were still messaging their family and you felt a tug at your heart. You clenched your jaw, internally making a promise to bring every one of these three people back home.

"Ready?" You questioned once the car had halted at the decided place, a quick scan of the area was done before you opened the door, waiting for them.

"Always boss," Chris, the baby of the group gave you a lopsided smile, ruffling his hair and stretching out his arms quickly.

"In we go then guys," you finally muttered, sending a quick prayer to the deity above to watch over them, to let your plan be a success.

As was decided, Elijah and you split from the rest, walking side by side and taking the back entrance to the creepy old hotel while they entered from the front side.

There was absolutely no security which was weird considering that there were atleast twenty boys and girls trapped and held captive. The pair of you moved smoothly onto stage 2, entering the first floor without so much of a disturbance.

"Was this supposed to be this easy?" The Brit whispered, eyes still alert as he held the gun tightly.

"Definitely not," you answered back, feeling some unease crawling up your throat. Suddenly you were grabbed and pulled into a corner, your eyes widening to see Elijah put a finger on his lips and point down the hallway where a door had just opened.

The two of you listened in rapt silence as a burly man stepped out, adorned in lavish jewelleries which confirmed his identity of the leader behind this illegal racket.

He was walking away, blabbering to someone on his phone angrily and you jumped as the door slammed shut from the inside.

Waiting for a few seconds, Elijah let out a breath, stepping away slightly. "Well our intel wasn't wrong then".

You nodded, Jess' voice suddenly interrupted in your ear piece that they had completed the first three stages which were getting in safely, climbing all the way up and locating the rooms where the children were kept.

"Copy that, good job," you muttered, glad that this was falling into place.

"Where should we start first then?" He asked. "Jess and Chris have got the front wing covered. We should probably start evacuation from here itself before moving up".

"I agree, I've also let Stephen know that stage 2 is in motion. He has dispatched the evac forces already".

Saying so, the two of you jogged towards one of the doors, praying with all your might that your information is correct to the dot, you swiped the master key card and it clicked open.

Barely breathing you pushed it with one hand, Elijah covering you from behind while also keeping an eye on the hallway. The door creaked loudly as it slowly swung open, revealing two girls and three boys, all of whom looked to be about nine years of age.

"Jesus," Elijah whispered at the sight of those terrified souls who immediately cowered upon seeing the pistols pointed. Their hands out in front of them, shielding their body as best as they could.

"Please don't be scared," you said, lowering down the gun and trying to give them a smile. "We're- we're from the police, we're gonna get you out of here," you leaned down, hoping to console them.

"We're here to help, buddy," he did a better job at smiling warmly, gently extending his hand forward, waiting for them to trust him. "I promise that you're going home soon".

"Home?" A girl with jet black hair and gorgeous green eyes stuttered. Her build was the smallest out of all, knees pressed against her chest as she shivered and your heart chipped a little.

"Yes, love. I promise," you nodded eagerly, sitting on your toes now. "I need you all to quietly follow Elijah here, he's going to get you downstairs and out. Can you all do that for me?"

"Yes!" They immediately replied, a few grins seen on their previously detached faces making both of you feel hopeful.

"Be safe, Eli," you murmured, ushering them out gently and not letting them out of sight for a second.

He could only nod, his throat tight as he had one arm around the tiny children while the other held onto his gun, ready to kill absolutely anyone that dared to harm a hair on their heads.

You did your job of escorting them to the staircase and amidst your run to the second floor you heard your security department say that the first batch had been rescued without a hitch.

That gave you a small boost of confidence as you began opening yet another door, knowing that there would be at the very least two girls in there. A small smile was already present on your face as you swiped the card and pushed it slightly, only to have it slip from your grip.

The room was empty, there was not one child to be seen. Your eyebrows furrowed as you thoroughly scanned every inch, how on earth could the intel possibly be wrong? The intelligence sector had been rigorously watching every move from the cctv cameras that had been infiltrated. How could their information be wrong when they were monitoring everything that happened-

Unless, you stilled in place, not being able to move as the worst possibility came floating in your brain. Unless you were being made to see these things, because somehow they knew about the intrusion.

The sudden creak of the door had the hair on your arm standing up as you turned swiftly, your heart in your throat at seeing no one there. You didn't waste another minute before getting out of the room and hiding yourself in a safe space to communicate with your team.

"Jess? Status?"

Her response came after about twenty seconds, until which your hands had started sweating as you pondered over the situation.

"Have successfully evacuated three, one boy and two girls. So that makes a total of eight out of twenty".

"Okay, good good, that's good," you repeated, trying to convince yourself. That's when Elijah appeared, breaking you out of your trance and you sighed in relief on seeing him unharmed.

"Oh thank goodness," you got up, still keeping your eyes trained on the hallway. "I think something's wrong, Elijah".

His neck snapped towards you, "What happened?" You recounted the incident to him and he pressed his lips together. "Maybe- maybe it was a mistake on our part," he said, but you could see the uncertainty in his eyes. Both of you knew there was actually no way that such a mistake could happen, but neither was willing to voice out the fears.

"Let's just- let's just look into the others," you said, and after his agreement the two of you sped across, almost reaching the intended door when a scream which suspiciously sounded like a little girl's was heard, loud and haunting.

You halted immediately, looking at each other for a brief second before rushing towards the source, praying with all your might for the situation to not be overly difficult.

"Wait!" You grabbed his arm, forcing him to slow down.

"What?!" He answered, panting slightly.

"We can't go down together, Elijah! There can be a slight possibility that they were expecting us and we're just walking into a trap! You need to keep on searching for the rest, maybe take help from Jess and Chris and atleast bring them to safety".

He considered your statement but appeared unconvinced, "How can I just let you go there all by yourself! You know full well that it's not safe!"

"It's okay," you said hurriedly, realising that you're probably losing time. "I'll be fine just go and gather the rest, and hurry up. I have a very bad feeling about this".

"Please stay safe," he squeezed your hand before rushing up the stairs, giving you a final nod before you two parted ways.

Similarly you rushed towards the scream, not trying to be reckless as you navigated safely through the lobby, both of your hands gripping your gun.

Just as you were going to step out from your hiding spot, you heard Chris' small shout in your ear, a yell from Jess followed quickly and your heart filled with dread with each step you took.

Just as you put a foot outside, your gun was knocked out from your hands and you were slammed down on the floor. A loud groan escaped your lips as you looked at a man smirking, standing above you.

"You people think you're always smarter than us? But we're always a step ahead," he hissed before pulling his leg back and kicking your side. You doubled over in pain before spotting the knife in his hand and barely managing to roll away from his downwards strike.

You got up, stumbling a little as he walked closer. You stayed, waiting until the last second before grabbing his arm and spinning him around while simultaneously hooking your leg around his and dropping him to the floor. Your knee pressed against his back as you twisted his arms, earning a satisfactory scream tear from his lungs. His hands were being turned harshly and a clean crack was heard, signalling the breaking of his wrist.

Swiftly you grabbed the gun lying nearby and shot him on the back of his head, twice just to be sure. You barely had time to take a proper breath before another man had grabbed your waist, his grip tightening as you struggled, finding your footing and ensuring a swift back kick on his shins while your head hit him hard on his nose.

You winced as he was forced to distance himself, your hand rubbing the back of your skull as you noticed the gun in his hand.

"Fuck," was all you could utter as he shot, aiming for your chest and you swerved away, gasping as the bullet buried itself in the sleeve of your arm. Luckily for you, the bulletproof vest was of the best quality.

"Surrender," he growled in anger, clearly not expecting a woman to fight so much.

"You wish," you panted, palms resting on your knees but your eyes were trained on him. Suddenly you rushed forward, knocking the gun out of his hand but he had somehow anticipated it, almost waiting for you to make the first move.

He grinned in triumph after taking hold of your arms and then pressing your back against his chest, the cold metal of the pistol now touching your temporal bone.

You fell silent, hands rising up instinctively as you tried to conserve your energy. Having been in this situation before, you didn't necessarily feel scared, but your heart pumped rapidly, providing you with excess blood as you tried to find a way out.

"Boss?" Chris' voice was heard in your ear and you gulped, not daring to answer as there was a possibility of them not knowing exactly how many members accompanied you.

The next was Elijah, he kept on chanting your name and you heard his panic increase with every repetition. You were merely glad to know that they were alive.

The man holding you had clearly underestimated your strength because he lowered his gun, though maintained a tight around your neck. His other hand fumbled to search for a walkie talkie perhaps, and that was exactly the moment you were waiting for. You grasped the single arm still kept around you and pushed with all of your force, moving it away from your body and swinging him around, releasing at the right time and as expected his body went flying in the wall. The gun was out of your holster and another two bullets were fired successively.

He died within no time, the shots having penetrated his heart twice. But you did not utter a word as you looked at your surroundings, your hands shaking slightly but your feet moved on their own accord, unlocking door after door in search of more kids.

On opening the last one you found a girl, possibly seven years of age sitting on the floor, trembling terribly and you knew she must've heard the devastating sound of gunshots.

"Please don't be afraid," you whispered. And for some reason your throat started burning with an intensity that you had never felt before. Your lower lip wobbled as your emotions went haywire, but you, a master of your training took a deep breath and restricted them cleanly.

"I'm here to take you home," you tried again, cautiously inching closer to the terrified child. Your slightly bloody appearance didn't make your task much easier too.

"You'll take me back to my mummy and daddy?" Tears had started flowing down her pale cheeks as she watched you, a tiny glimmer of hope in her deep brown eyes, and for the second time in just a matter of two hours, an invisible knife chipped off another small piece from your heart.

Hearing her voice brought another thought to your mind, that

"I will," you nodded desperately, swallowing down the huge lump as you opened your arms for her, watching her hesitate for a second before she lunged forward, throwing her fragile body into the security of your arms as she sobbed, her small shoulders moving as she cried and cried.

"Shush darling," you whispered, your voice sounding broken. "I'm going to get you away, you're gonna be home in no time".

"You- You promise?" She stammered, pulling away and looking straight at you. Innocence met responsibility and you wiped her stained face.

"I promise, Anna," you noticed her name on the bracelet and the smile that instantly lit up her face brought a new wave of sadness inside you. This time she embraced you with giddiness, a small laugh escaping her.

You quickly clasped her hand tightly in yours, shielding her body properly and navigating safely to the stairway. You backed off into a corner, giving a long look around before bringing a hand to your earpiece.

"Sophie? Come in".

Her voice responded not even a second later and you rapidly fired instructions, understanding that there was no way you could drop her off yourself, the risk being too high.

You felt a sudden grip on your thigh and looked down to see Anna burying her face in your stomach, fear lighting up inside her as she listened to your conversation.

You placed a warm hand on her shoulder and she looked up, "Where am I going?"

"You're going home, love. I promised you did I not? One of my friends is coming soon, and she'll take you back".

"But what about you?"

"I cannot come with you, darling. You know that there are other children too right?" You questioned gently and she nodded. "I have to help them too".

"But- But what if the bad people find me and lock me up again? I'm scared," her eyes had glossed over and you both turned to see a woman climbing up the stairs, making her quickly hide behind you, her arms hugging your legs.

"Soph," you walked slowly, keeping a hand on her shoulders and smiling slightly at your right hand. She was decked in clothes similar to yours, standing with slight confidence and a strong figure.

"Be very careful, no harm is to come towards her, at any cost," you ordered clearly and she nodded, shrugging off her serious exterior to a warm look as she beckoned Anna closer.

"Run along, love, there's your ride home," you ushered her towards Sophie and the child obeyed, though unwilling to leave you.

"Will I ever see you again?" She whispered, a tremble in her words as she faced you expectantly.

"I'll try my best to," you all but sighed, feeling your heart clench.

"Thank you," the little girl mumbled, fiddling with her fingers and shooting you a small smile before she was taken down the stairs and you watched, pressing your lips together, staying rooted for a minute before dragging your focus back to another pressing issue.

You began opening doors after doors, your hands quivering yet your feet being quite stable, moving on their own accord. There was no one to be seen on the entire floor and you came to a halt, panting slightly as you checked in with your team.

"Elijah?" You inquired, your heartbeat increasing again because it had been a long time since you had heard from any one of them.

"Oh hey I'm alive," came his slightly strained voice.

"What's wrong?" You shot back immediately, your foot tapping against the floor as anxiety started settling deep in your chest.

"Nothing just an incident. We ran into some unwelcome guests and unfortunately one of them jabbed a knife in my bicep".

"Jesus Elijah," you swore, massaging your temple. "What about the others?"

"They're all fine, a couple of bruises here and there but all breathing. How are you, boss?"

"I-" you trailed off, the words not coming your aid as you contemplating on how to describe. "I'm fine don't worry. Got another girl to safety".

"Oh yeah we got five boys down too. We scanned the entire front wing, there's nothing here that hasn't been taken care of. Let's head down to the basement just to be sure".

"Yeah I'll be there in five-"

You were cut off by a loud bang made by a rifle and you jumped, pressing yourself against a wall and ducking behind a corner.

"What was that?" Elijah asked urgently, clearly having heard the sound.

"Slight delay in plans, you go ahead and I'll make sure to join".

"Not so soon," the muscular guy spoke through gritted teeth, his hands handling the gun as he started taunting you. "Come out you pathetic woman. Imagine having the guts to infiltrate a building only to be left all alone to die".

"Cannot relate I suppose," a new voice spoke and you felt dread rising in your lungs. There was no way that you could handle these armed men right now. Well you could but the aftermath would be bad.

"You cannot escape now," one of them laughed sinisterly, a malicious smirk on his face as you stepped out from your spot, arms once again raised in surrender.

"Look at you," he spoke, throwing the rifle to his friend and walked closer. "Shame that I have orders to kill an exquisite beauty," he said, chuckling and casually on the way to place his hands on your waist but you snapped, holding both arms and twisting them directly behind, making the said person groan loudly and you heard the unmistakable click of the rifle being loaded.

"It's okay Jer," he grinned, massaging his shoulders as you once again displayed no harm. "A feisty little thing, aren't you?"

You simply glared harshly, your stance radiating power a startling contrast to your palms raised parallel to your head.

"Ooh the beauty is married too huh?" The other man, Jer gestured towards the ring adorning your finger.

"Oh? Who's the lucky guy... missus?"

Rather abruptly, Jer had locked your arms and pressed you against him, making sure to block any leg movements too. "This is gonna make it all the more fun," he sighed before inhaling deeply, nuzzling his nose in your neck as you wordlessly struggled.

The second man who had been watching the interaction stepped inches away from you, his eyes raking your figure up and down, his expression the epitome of sin. He licked his lips slightly and a strange shiver travelled down your spine, a foreign fear began creeping up.

He leaned closer, on the verge of brushing his lips on your own but you threw your head forward, hitting him squarely on his nose and almost succeeding in breaking it.

"You fucking bitch-" was the only warning you had before he removed a blade, not even thinking twice as he made a strike on your neck.

A small yell was heard as you felt the blood slowly oozing down. It wasn't a deep cut by any means, but it was long as hell. The motherfucker had made sure to inflict maximum pain.

He then sliced the sleeve of your vest, effectively cutting past the shirt underneath and digging into your skin. This time you didn't even hiss, biting your tongue and focusing on breathing properly.

Your eyes were closed for a mere few seconds, but that was all it took for him to go find a fucking iron rod from god knows where. You looked at him warily, not bothering to say anything because you knew it was inevitable.

And how right you were.

The first blow came and landed on your legs, knocking you off your feet as you dropped down, grabbing your calf and curling into a ball, your face the definition of pain. You falling down was apparently what he wanted because he began hitting you like a madman. The second hit was aimed at your back, another one on your stomach, the next one on the quadricep muscles as you groaned with every shot.

The pain strangely didn't last long probably because you were extremely high on adrenaline.

And as if literally beating you to death wasn't enough, he opened the room behind and your focus was diverted, pulse racing as he held a young boy hostage, pressing the blade against his jugular.

"Don't touch him," you rasped, your face contorting in pain as Jer made a cut on your body, this time beneath your neck, right atop your clavicle.

"Then you better give us what we want, sweetheart," he threatened, not sparing the shaking boy any amount of pity.

You looked at the boy, his eyes wide as tears kept streaming down his cheeks. Your heart ached with his every struggle and you looked wildly at his captor, almost burning holes with your stare.

"We're right behind you, cap," Chris' voice was soft in your ears and you almost cried in relief. God bless their impeccable timing.

What happened next was a literal blur of events. Your teammates had gloriously interrupted the capture and you used the distraction caused to haul the trapped boy in your arms, stepping backward to safety as you caught the gun thrown towards you. But the others had easily managed to overpower the two men and the criminals laid dead at your feet.

"Jesus Christ, love," Jess spoke and cupped your face, helping you sit straighter as she looked at your shirt being smeared in blood. The number of bruises which she guessed had definitely started turning black and blue.

"Oh god are you alright?" Elijah hurried over and knelt down in front of you, gently moving your legs to keep them straight.

"I'm fine you lot," you said heavily, resting your head back against the wall as you breathed. "You don't look much better yourselves".

They just shrugged, having got over their bodies stained with dried blood, some scratches here and there, bruises littering their skin. Chris even had a bullet half wedged in his arm that had thankfully not run deep.

The boy sitting beside you had his face buried in your arm the entire time, holding your hand as if it was the only thing keeping him alive.

"Hey buddy," Elijah whispered softly and all of you turned towards him, watching as he cautiously lifted his head to look at everyone.

"Hi," he replied, shortly.

"Are you hurt?" Chris asked, taking out the first aid kid from his backpack and applying some cream on a small bruise on the side of his head.

"You sure we're done?" You asked Jess, a wave of exertion falling over you as you struggled to stand up straight, Elijah immediately leaning forward to your rescue.

"Yep, our tech team confirmed it. We also found a hidden camera, one that hadn't been infiltrated by us. That's probably how they knew our whereabouts so quickly".

You nodded, wincing as you stood on your feet. Feeling a little proud as you looked at your team having managed to go through hell and still be alive and breathing.

"Thank you," you smiled softly, "All of you".

"Thank you cap'n," Chris grinned, embracing you in his special bear hug and you complied, feeling only comfort as pain became secondary.

"Let's go then?" Elijah questioned carrying the young boy in his arms, his lips twitching slightly too and you agreed.

====================================

"Oh god," was all Stephen could utter when you sauntered into your building, all four of you bloody, with your own unique bruises here and there.

"Hey there," Chris smirked and the rest followed, earning a disbelieving shaking of head from your dear boss.

"I- You know what just let's get you all patched up," he muttered, fussing over everyone like a father as the medical team rushed in.

"We're okay," Elijah smiled, rolling up his sleeves to reveal the various bruises to which he raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Fine my foot," he grumbled, assisting the nurses in any way that he could.

"What matters though is that the mission was accomplished," Jess interjected with a huge grin as though her shin did not just have a massive injury that was currently getting cleaned.

"Anything you'd like to add?" He huffed, turning towards you which quickly faded as he saw your pale face. "Hey what's wrong?"

At his address everyone sharply turned their necks towards you, their smiles falling on seeing your eyes becoming hazy.

"She's just lost a lot of blood," the nurses informed. "The cuts though not being deep were too many in number, thus resulting in dizziness. Don't worry, sir, she'll be completely fine".

"You're not getting rid of me that soon, Cap," your low voice was heard, slightly croaky in nature.

"I wouldn't have it the other way, kid," he answered, taking your hand and squeezing it gently. "I can't thank you enough".

You chuckled a little, swallowing through your extremely dry throat and opening your eyes, "It wasn't me alone. I would've died had it not been for those three".

"Stop," Elijah cut you off, clenching his jaw at the thought of you dying. He had idolised you, looked up to you since his trainee days. "Don't say that".

"You know it's the truth, Eli".

He shook his head, "What matters is that we're all here, alive".

"God I'm so relieved," Chris let out a shaky breath and was hugged by Jess who nodded sympathetically, holding the cross around her neck in reverence.

"I can't wait to get back home," she murmured, sighing as her wounds had been bandaged up.

Home. The word was enough to snap your eyes open. Home. You wanted to go home.. right now.

You looked down at your bruised body and saw that most of the wounds had been taken care of, you downed some painkillers given and immediately swung to your feet, ignoring the slight wave of dizziness.

"Woah there soldier, easy now," Stephen said, worry etched on his face.

"I need to call my husband-" you started, trying to control your once again racing heart. "Please- I- Can I call him?"

"Hey," he said, a strange look on his face as he looked at you. "Of course you can, but you need to calm yourself down first yeah? Breathe with me now".

You followed his actions, inhaling and exhaling rhythmically. Soon enough you were back to normal again and you slumped down in the chair, holding your head in your hands.

"Give your body time to heal," Jess frowned, walking over to run your shoulders as you heaved deeply and gulped before nodding.

"I'll just talk to him quickly, we'll- then we'll go through the remaining procedures," you couldn't forget your duty in the face of emotions. That wasn't what you had trained for.

"Take all the time you need," he reassured. "All of you please, go on have a chat".

You didn't need to be told twice as you walked to your cabin, sitting in the chair and pulling out your phone after a total of 8 hours. It had been utterly and completely exhausting.

You dialled his number, holding your breath and your foot began tapping against the floor. It rang, once, twice, thrice and-

"Oh darling," came your husband's voice, soft and just how you remembered. And it didn't take much for your eyes to well up with tears again as you closed them, keeping them at bay. Just focusing your entire being on his voice, because a few hours earlier, you weren't so sure that you'd be able to hear him again.

"Carlos," you whispered, your lip wobbling dangerously as you spoke. "I'm here- I'm back here we succeeded".

"Well done, my love," you could hear his voice shaking too. "I'm so so proud of you- and I just-" he cut himself off and your nose scrunched up as you gritted your teeth.

"Come back home, amor," he urged you, gripping his phone tightly as his very soul longed to simply hold his wife, his other half again. [Love]

"I will," you nodded frantically though you knew he couldn't see it. "I've only got some last minute things to do I promise I'll be home as quickly as I can".

"Te estoy esperando, cariño..." [I'm waiting for you, darling...]

"Yo también, mi vida... Pronto estaré allí, te quiero". [Me too, my life... I'll be there soon, I love you]

You hung up the phone with a shaky smile, holding the screen close to your chest. The photo for his contact tugging at your heartstring as you gingerly got up, now feeling the ache of every blow made on you but you still walked.

"Let's get this done with," you addressed the team who were already present. "And get back home to our family".

====================================

Part 3

Part 1

Again thank you so much for reading<33 My requests are of course open.

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz 55 #carlos sainz ff #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x reader ff #carlos sainz x wife reader #carlos sainz wife imagine #f1 ff #ferrari

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thecircularlibrary · 12 days ago

Text

getaway car

f1 au

word count: 1058

warnings: n/a

pairings: averyjameson

“Why was it so hot?” Avery asked herself, standing in the luxurious Formula 1 Paddock Club, watching and waiting for the race that she and her sister watched annually as children to start. The Monaco Grand Prix. God, it even sounded like a dream. How she and Libby had gone from a couple of low income girls with low expectations thrust upon them, to an heiress and an F1 driver, Avery would never understand. One distant relative that Avery had house-sat for one summer, and suddenly she was standing in a lounge watching one of the biggest and most historic races of the year. It still shocked her sometimes.

“Long time, no see Grambs,” she heard a familiar voice say from behind her. She turned around and grinned, “Could say the same thing to you, Hawthorne.”

Grayson Hawthorne. One of her best friends. He was wearing a Ferrari bomber jacket and a white button down with black dress pants. The staple of any of the driver managers in the lounge.

“I assume you’re keeping up your whole ‘impartial viewer’ act you put on for every race, at this race too?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Then you’d be correct. And get rid of the air quotes, I really am an impartial viewer. Unlike some people, I refuse to choose between people I care about,” Avery responded, looking pointedly at the man in a jacket supporting his younger brother’s team while ignoring his older brother driving for Red Bull. She wasn’t being serious, she knew it was his job to support Ferrari, but she also knew he was in no position to throw stones.

“Listen, you know that if it weren’t for Max and Libby, you’d be wearing a jacket just like this one to support my brother,” Grayson said with a shrug before walking away to continue to mingle for sponsors for said brother.

His brother. Her boyfriend. Jameson Hawthorne. Though she would never say it to her sister or her best friend, he was the reason she was here. They could hardly blame her either, Libby lived with her in Ithaca and Max was four hours away in NYC. Meanwhile, from March to December, Jameson was 3,485 miles away in London. The plan was for her to move over there when she graduated from college and continue her work there. However, at 21, her college graduation was still two years away and she desperately missed him.

They’d met at a Stand Up 2 Cancer gala two months after she’d inherited her fortune at 17. She, of course, immediately knew who he was. A Formula 2 driver and alternate for Ferrari, Jameson Hawthorne was someone worth keeping an eye on in the racing world. And Avery knew how to keep an eye on the racing world. When he approached her and asked her a riddle—“If yes is no and once is never, how many sides does a triangle have?”—she answered him. The rest was history. She became close with his brothers very quickly and Grayson and Xander became two of her closest friends. Nash was somewhat of an older brother to her.

Avery was shaken out of her memory by the first of five red lights turning on. In the qualifying rounds yesterday, Max had placed 5th, Libby 7th, Nash 2nd, and Jameson 3rd. As she watched the cars line up, she noted Nash and Libby’s Red Bull cars, Jameson’s Ferrari, and Max’s McLaren spaced out among others in that order.

She watched as the cars took off and got comfortable watching the tracker on the screen , where she’d be watching for the next two hours.

- ❁ -

At the 1 hour 30 minute mark, Jameson took his pit stop. Max took hers twenty minutes ago, Libby ten minutes ago. Nash had yet to take his. Avery knew better than to question Nash’s racing techniques: as of right now, he was the number 1 ranked driver in the circuit. However, that didn’t mean he was unbeatable. Especially not by his baby brother.

- ❁ -

As Jameson finished his last lap, milliseconds ahead of Nash, Avery let out a cheer. Grayson smiled slyly over his shoulder at her as he clapped his hands over his head. She and Grayson left the Paddock Club to see the podium celebration. Max had taken third place, while Libby had taken fifth. While Avery was sad for her sister, she knew Libby would come back from it. Libby always came back from these things. She and Grayson watched, grinning, as Nash clapped Jameson on the back and they left the celebration after popping the champagne.

Jameson found her immediately upon stepping off the concrete and ran towards her, sweeping her into a drugging kiss. He was still sweating and his hair was completely messy from his helmet. He was wearing his red and white racing suit. He held one hand in her hair and the other gripped her waist as she held his face in her hands. He smiled against her lips.

“I missed you,” he whispered quietly enough that only she could hear. Gone was the slight twang his voice had held when they met, replaced with a subtle, barely-there, English accent.She returned his smile.

“I missed you too. I’m proud of you,” Avery couldn’t stop smiling. She hadn’t been directly rooting for him over Libby and Max, but she was rooting for him to shoot out from under Nash’s shadow, and he had done just that.

He dipped his head to her shoulder, adrenaline mixing with the race he’d just won causing him to be out-of-breath. “We should get out of here.”

Avery sighed in sympathy before patting his hair. “We can’t. Grayson’s looking for you to go back to the Paddock club and mingle. He says you need more sponsors, Jamie.”

Jameson rolled his eyes.

“The only thing I need is time with my girlfriend that lives over 3,000 miles away,” he said, about as exasperated as anyone who's boss has hired their older brother to keep them in line. Avery pulled out her phone.

“I can call my driver. We can go back to the suite and order room service and margaritas,” she offered, letting herself be 21 for once in her life.

He looked at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I’ll drive.”

#the inheritance games f1-verse #averyjameson #the inheritance games #the grandest game #the brothers hawthorne #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #games untold #avery kylie grambs #jameson hawthorne #avery x jameson #grayson hawthorne #libby grambs #maxine liu #avery and grayson friendship #isabellas fics #f1 au

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sadhours · 1 month ago

Text

blue sunday

chapter one

billy hargrove x female!oc (daisy way)

masterlist

cw: 18+, minors dni, smut, established relationship (kind of?), references to prostitution, manipulation, alcohol use, daddy kink, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v

summary: billy and daisy made a real stupid decision, got hitched on a wild and drunken night but the longer they spend time together, the less Billy’s regretting the decision. but are they really meant to be?

NEVADA • JULY 1991

The Starlite Motel is near downtown. It has a big neon sign, a facade of glitz and glamour masking the true gritty form. Billy’s stayed here before. When he first landed in this bizarro Nevada town. It was the only room he could afford at the time. His skin kind of crawls as he drives up into the parking lot. The place is known for housing criminals, junkies and prostitutes. And apparently, Billy’s brand new wife.

He glances down at the passenger seat, eyeing the monstrous stack of paperwork. Annulment papers. The right decision, based on where she’s staying. Even if she is devastatingly gorgeous, or at least Billy remembered her being that way. The night was fuzzy, he can’t even remember the wedding he was so trashed. When he woke up in the casino hotel room, he was still fucking hammered. But there was a girl next to him in bed, with a cheap veil clipped in her bleached hair. Champagne bottles strewn across the room and as he was emptying his stomach out in the toilet, the girl woke up. Held a paper up to his face and said, “Hiya, husband, how ya feeling?”

To which Billy kept puking. The paper was a marriage certificate. Damned this fucking town and their lack of last calls and abundance of twenty-four hour wedding chappels. It’s designed for bad decisions. Kind of the whole reason Billy was even drawn to this place. He’d meant to make it back to California, but ran out of money here. And by the time he’d earned enough money to leave, he didn’t want to. Found himself a steady, decent paying job in construction and next thing Billy knew, he was buying his own fucking house. Well, single-wide trailer that was falling apart but fuck it, Billy was a homeowner. If only Neil could fucking see him now. Er, maybe not him right now… sitting outside a cheap motel where his wife lives and uh, presumably works. Damnit, it’s time to undo this drunken mistake.

Billy grips the papers and walks up to the door labeled 12. He knocks twice and hangs back. It’s hot out, only ten AM but the desert heat beats down on him. Must already be 75 degrees. There’s still no answer, he can’t hear noise behind the door– all he can hear is the group of men his age gathered at the end of the ‘hallway’, talking quietly. Billy knocks again, firmer this time and tries to peek through the window but the blinds are closed. Tells himself he’ll give her five more fucking minutes to answer the door.

While he waits, he lights up a smoke. Folds the annulment papers and tucks them in the back pocket of his worn Levi’s. Those five minutes pass and he turns on his feet to leave but as he’s stalking back to his car, he sees her. She’s wearing a cheetah print bikini top, a short denim skirt and red flip flops. The top does little to cover her huge tits, with every step they jiggle and Billy’s only a man, so he’s staring. Figures the dudes twenty feet down are also staring at her. Her blonde hair is tied up haphazardly in a bun, strands of it falling around her neck and face. Then Billy sees the cigarette between her lips, a can of beer in her hand and the rest of the six pack in the other. It’s ten in the morning and she’s drinking a beer. Billy can’t help but get this odd feeling he’s looking into some weird gender bending mirror.

“Is that my husband?” she calls when she’s a couple feet away, a smile spreading against her plush lips. Fuck, she’s gorgeous and he’s kind of bummed they had to meet in the way they did. There’s no way in hell he can stay married to a stranger, no matter how foxy she is.

“Not for long,” Billy tells her around his cigarette.

Daisy rolls her eyes as she makes it to the door, handing him her beer before rustling through the small pink purse on her shoulder. She retrieves a set of keys and too many keychains. Unlocks the door and kicks it open, snatching her beer back and heads inside. Billy follows her, taken back by the stench of her motel room. It’s not totally foul, but definitely not pleasant. Can’t be totally Daisy’s fault, this establishment isn’t exactly well taken care of. But it reeks of cigarettes, stale food and something sickly sweet— kind of like green apple and cotton candy. Billy thinks it’s Daisy’s perfume.

“Want a beer?” she asks, ripping one out of the plastic and handing it over before Billy answers. So he takes it but he pulls the annulment papers out as he does so. Hands them to her.

She drops her purse, pushes her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head and looks at the papers. Almost looks disappointed. But how could she be? They don’t even know each other. She sets them on her unmade bed, on the pillows and sits down next to them.

“So, yeah, you sign those and it’s like it never happened,” Billy says.

Daisy nods slowly, brings her beer to her lips and gulps down the rest of it. Sets the empty can on her nightstand and then reaches for a second before tossing the butt of her smoke in the empty can.

“We must’ve had a good night,” she shrugs. “I know we had a good morning, ya know, after you hurled in the toilet for an hour.”

Yeah… Billy remembers that, at least. The sex that morning was good— great even. And he can’t be shocked it happened because standing here, across from Daisy, he feels this strange magnetism between them. He wants to touch her.

“It was fun,” he replies, soft because he doesn’t exactly wanna admit that to her.

Daisy pouts her lips, leans forward and her biceps are pressing her tits together. Like she’s trying to tempt him. Unfortunately, it’s working. His eyes immediately drop to the curve of her breasts.

“So, why are you so quick to divorce me, Billy? You don’t think I’m pretty?” Daisy asks, her voice all exaggerated sadness and he has to snort.

“It’s not a divorce. And you’re plenty pretty, I think you’re fucking aware of that,” he offers, “But I don’t know you, and I should probably know the person I’m marrying, yeah?”

She giggles, reaches up and pulls her hair out of the messy updo. Wavy blonde falling seductively around her shoulders. Damn, she’s good.

“You can get to know me.”

“You’re okay with being shacked up with a stranger?” Billy asks, tilting his head.

Well, he thinks maybe that’s literally her job, but it feels rude to ask or tell her he assumes so.

Daisy blinks, all innocent and pretty at him when she says, “I might’ve hit the jackpot with a hunk like you. Sue me for not being eager to let you go.”

“I absolutely could,” he counters, but he’s smirking. He’s kidding. Kind of. “You think I’m a hunk?”

“I’d fuck you right now,” Daisy confesses, “and I really, really want to.”

They stare at each other, tension so heavy Billy can feel it in his chest. This is pure instinct right now. He puts his beer down, discards his smoke in Daisy’s makeshift ashtray and she’s putting her drink down too. Then he lunges at her, genuinely feels like he can’t help himself. Daisy falls back easily, arms around his neck while he intrudes her mouth with his tongue. She tastes like beer and Marlboros. Daisy moans into him, fingers tangling in the bottom of his mullet and she pulls, her hips canting up. He’s humping back like he’s a horny teenager again. Grabs hold of her jaw as he licks filthy into her mouth. It’s heady. Both of them are filled with adrenaline and desire.

In the back of his head, he thinks people pay for this. Well, maybe not this. Billy always heard that hookers don’t kiss. Either way, he pushes the thought away and actually lets himself indulge in the thought that this is his wife. And really, Billy’s always wanted a wife. Just hadn’t met anyone worth it. Maybe she is…

Daisy’s hands are pulling his shirt up and off of him. Billy takes the opportunity to get his mouth on her neck, sucking and licking and biting. She’s loud, moans unabashedly while she scratches down his back. Billy leaves marks, she’s his wife for fucks sake. He bites around the string of her bikini and pulls, undoes it with his teeth and her heavy breasts fall out of it. His mouth is on them in an instant, giving them the same treatment he gave her neck. He loves the way her skin tastes, sweet and salty. Makes his dick pulse. So he’s grinding down on her, searching for any semblance of friction.

“Billy…” she cries out once he reaches her nipple, licking broadly against it before sucking it between his lips. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

He hums around her, smiling at the corners of his lips. He likes making her react like this, it gets him off. She is the hottest woman he’s ever seen, doesn’t even compare to the hundreds of centerfolds he’s seen. It’s getting to him, every time he looks up at her he thinks about it.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he says before thinking more about it.

Daisy giggles, and it makes her even prettier. Then she says, “Thank you, daddy.”

And wow. Billy’s never been called that before. He pauses because he’s pretty shocked by the effect that’s having on his dick. He grabs her jaw, looking down at her a little crazed and he’s thrusting gently against her. Daisy’s eyes widen, mouth a little slack and she just kind of melts. Billy likes that, so he holds her a little tighter and barely shakes her head.

“Yeah? Am I your daddy?”

Daisy whines, wiggles against the bed as she gasps out, “Yes!”

Billy has to bite his lip to stifle his smile, he can’t let on how much he likes being called that. Also, he’s pretty sure the whole daddy thing is being dominant. Smiling at that would show her a weakness, he thinks. So he lowers her hand to around her neck, “You gonna suck daddy’s cock?”

“If he’ll let me,” Daisy replies, all wide eyes and pouty lips. Billy’s cock twitches again.

He laughs at her, shakes his head and climbs off of her. As he stands, he starts undoing his jeans and kicks his boots off. Daisy sits up, putting her hair back up in the messy bun as she awaits for Billy to pull his cock out. When he does, Daisy hums and smiles, “Better than I remember.”

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing her by the bun and guides her towards his cock. They both have the biggest smiles. It’s odd, the way Billy feels like this is easy and even comfortable or familiar. Honestly, it kind of scares him. But then Daisy’s licking up the side of his cock. His eyes roll back and he moans. Totally distracted from his nerves.

Her lips wrap around the head of his cock and she moans, blinking up at him before sucking. He grits his teeth, using his grip on his hair to guide his cock further into her mouth. Daisy’s stunning and she looks even better with something in her mouth. Can’t take his eyes off her, chin pressed to his chest as moans flow from his lips. She’s messy with it too, drooling around his cock and using her hand to stroke where he isn’t in her mouth. The eye contact is bizarre. Billy can’t recall another time he had a girl looking up at him like this. He likes it, feels like he’s got his own personal little porn star.

Then she takes him all the way, nose pressed against curly blonde hair and bobs her head. He wants to watch, but he can’t. His eyes squeeze shut as he growls low. Daisy even moans around him and Billy’s hips jerk forward, shoving deeper down her throat and fuck, she takes it like a champ. He has to pull out so he doesn’t cum. She squeezes the base of him, like she knows he’s close. Licks her lips as he peers up at him. And for the first time, he notices she’s got her skirt hiked up, panties pushed to the side as she rubs her pussy.

“You taste so good, daddy,” she tells him, “makes me so wet.”

“Let me see,” Billy goads her.

Daisy leans back, spreads her legs as she drags her fingers up and down her glistening folds. She spreads her lips, really showing off for him before sinking two fingers into her cunt. He gets on his knees, pulls her to the edge of the bed and pulls her panties off. Billy pushes her skirt up higher and she’s holding her legs up for him. He dives in, licking against her pussy. Billy groans at the taste, sweet and just a little tangy. Daisy moans, spreading her legs even further as he devours her. And fuck, she sounds so pretty. He eats her out like a starving man. More hungry than he’s ever been. The attraction here is fucking otherworldly. Billy cannot remember feeling so aroused by another woman. He feels a little insane from it, putting everything he has into licking her out. Nose bumping into her clit as he circles his tongue around her hole. Daisy’s not holding back, body shaking against the sheets as she wails. He can feel her wetness coating his cheeks and chin, she’s practically pouring out.

“Fuck,” she gasps, “Oh, my god, Billy!”

He moves his lips back up to her clit, slipping two fingers inside her pulsing cunt. Licking her clit rapidly, sliding his fingers in and out and he can feel her squeezing his digits. Keeps working until her legs snap shut, locking him in as she wails and seizes against the bed. He can feel her cumming, even wetter than she was and her walls tighten around his fingers. He keeps licking her until she’s pushing him away.

Daisy sits up, grabs Billy by the hair and pulls him into a kiss. No doubt tasting herself. There’s such an intense chemistry, it makes his head spin. And Daisy’s spinning him around. Pushing him on his back and straddling him, she kisses him harshly and reaches between their bodies. Grabs a hold of his cock and guides it towards her pussy, sinking down on it while they both moan out in pleasure. Billy knows they should use protection, that this is a dumb idea but it’s just too good to stop. And really, he can’t recall the night they married but he doubts they used it then and he knows they didn’t the morning after.

If anything, she’s a performer, bouncing on his cock. Her tits are moving with the motion. Billy doesn’t even know where to look, every inch of her body is fucking heavenly. She pulls her hair out of the hair tie, blonde tendrils falling to frame her face yet again. Daisy presses her palm to his chest, face all contorted in ecstasy as he fucks herself on his dick. His hands find her hips, trying to help her but it’s fruitless. Daisy’s a pro, she doesn’t need Billy to help. But he thinks it’s encouraging enough. His legs tense up, feeling alarmingly close because of how gorgeous she looks and how amazing it feels inside her.

Daisy grabs the annulment papers next to Billy’s head, holds them in her hands as she rides him.

“I want this cock forever, daddy,” she confesses and rips the papers in half. He should be pissed, he should be furious. But he cums. No warning. Just shoots inside her.

She cries out from the feeling, speeds up her movements even. The annulment papers lay on Billy’s torso as she rides him through his orgasm.

Billy doesn’t try to get the annulment papers again and Daisy moves into his trailer three days later.

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