#like even I message people and just gently remind them of my rules in case they need a little refresher | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years ago

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Rules: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: You two have one rule when it comes to your hookups: don't fall in love. So what happens when one of you breaks that rule? (based on a anon request that Tumblr ATE UP)

wc: 1.8k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

You're riding him as fast as you can, hands cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples.

"God, this feels so damn good," Suguru hisses beneath you, eyes holding yours captive. His hand moves away from your left breast, sliding down your stomach and resting on your clit.

"Mmm... Su..." you breathe, your hands pressed on either side of him as your hips slam into his. "That's perfect."

Panting, sweating messes. That's what you're both reduced to every Friday evening when he comes through your door and fucks you until you can't walk. And he leaves before sun-up, just as you ask, placing the spare key beneath the mat at the door after he locks up behind himself.

"You gonna cum soon?" Suguru wonders, but not because he wants to rush you. No, you look down in those onyx eyes and see his desire to withhold himself from cumming for just a little bit longer. He wants to feel your walls rock against his length for as long as he can before giving himself up to you. Suguru loves it when you spasm around his cock - and loves it when you squirt even more - but every single time, he cums right after you. It's not because he's weak; no, that's never been the case.

Your pleasure means so much to him. And when he delivers you the best, toe-curling orgasm of the week, you can't help but let yourself indulge in the sensations and ride it out as well.

But the first caveat to your little arrangement was Rule #1: that neither of you could fall in love. The moment one of you catches feelings, it's over. And you were starting to see that it could very well be Suguru that catches feelings, just like all of the ones who came before him.

The only difference between them and this black-haired devil beneath you was that he'd not only lasted a full six months, but he was the only one that could truly satisfy you. You never felt like Suguru used you as a fuck toy or masturbated into your body just for the feeling of a warm cunt surrounding his twitching cock. Your pleasure meant something to him, even if he left before daylight.

Those are your rules, however.

Soft lips bring you back to the present, and a gentle scrape of the teeth against the flesh of your breast makes you moan loudly.

"Suguru, I--"

"Hush, y/n," he mutters, tongue darting out to flick your nipple. "I'm not done with you yet."

Rule #2: no pet names. And he'd stuck to it, only calling you by your name as he fucked you into the couch, or moaned your name as you came around his length.

"Fuck..." you breathe as he sucks on your breasts over and over again, switching between the two at his leisure. And still, he's bouncing you on his dick, making you shudder.

Rule #3: Condoms. Every. Single. Time. And Suguru never came empty-handed.

You'd gotten rid of men the first time they came over without a condom and blamed it on their brain, even though you kept a stash hidden in the bottom cabinet of the bathroom. Those were reserved for hookups with men who weren't on your schedule or for when you used your strap-on; not for "forgetful" people.

"Oh, shit," you breathe. "I think I'm going to cum..." Suguru nods, pressing you against his chest and speeding up his strokes.

God damn, he's intuitive, you think as he brings you to the edge and tips you over like only he can. When you shudder and whimper in his ear, Suguru grunts softly, hips stuttering as he cums right behind you. It's always been like this, you muse, kissing the man deeply and with feeling. It's never going to change.

_____________________________________________________________

Change comes when you first step into the high-end department store, and you spot a silk gold and black tie hanging on a display.

"Suguru would like that," you think aloud, imaging him tying it on just like he takes them off before wrapping them around your h-- You smack your cheek, waking yourself up from the semi-lewd fantasy. You forget all about the occurrence until you pass by the cologne department, and catch a whiff of a familiar scent.

"Miss," you ask, stopping in front of an associate. "What's that scent?" When the lady rattles off some famous cologne brand, you inhale the fresh scent again, suddenly transported to the time you buried your face in Suguru's neck and smelled his hair for the first time. "Thank you," you quickly mutter, and walk away from the counter as fast as you can. Your hands begin to shake as you place the shoes you just bought on, looking at them in the store mirror right as the words 'maybe I should ask Suguru how they look' rolls through your mind.

Your assigned stylist gives you a frightened glance as you growl and take the shoes off, stuffing them back into the box in her hands as you hiss, "I'll take them."

What the hell is happening to me? you wonder as you drive home impatiently, honking at every person who minorly inconveniences you as you speed down the highway. It's not even Friday, but thrice you've thought about asking Suguru to come over and spend time with you. Three times!

You drop your keys onto the counter and sit on your couch, burying your hands in your face as you think, think, think...

Cancel with Ryoma. Cancel with Aizen. Cancel, cancel, cancel...

You shoot off various text messages in a short amount of time, cutting the other five men out of the schedule. You can find others to fit into Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday if you need to. You just need it to be Friday and fast.

"Hello?" the soft voice murmurs when you dial - picked up on the second ring.

"Hey," you whisper nervously. "Um, Monday canceled and I'm feeling a little stressed. Are you free tonight?" Some papers shift around in the background, and you bite your lip as you wait for an answer. It seems like forever until you hear:

"Yeah, let me finish up at the office. I'll be there around seven, alright?"

"Alright." You hang up just as a rush of adrenaline pumps through you, making you shower and dress with vigor. You even put on the new shoes and a nice set of lingerie to match. All for Suguru. You tie a robe over yourself and sit at your computer - it's six-fifteen - to do some work as a distraction. And it proves fruitful because when the doorbell rings, it's seven o'clock.

You straighten your robe and walk to the door, fixing your hair before opening it up and grinning at Suguru, who is still dressed in his slacks and a button-down shirt. The top button is open slightly and his sleeves are bunched up around his elbows, but he offers you his sweet smile as well, stepping into the house with ease.

"You look really nice. Are those new shoes?" he asks, tossing his jacket over the back of the couch and turning back to you.

"Why yes, they are," you sing, walking toward him slowly, leisurely. "Do you like them?"

"Do you care?" Suguru wonders, cupping your chin and kissing your lips gently. "I'm going to take them off of you in a second anyways."

"You have all night to think about that," you tease, tugging him toward your bedroom. "But I'd prefer you let me wear them while you fuck me." Suguru lets out a surprised chuckle, following you into the room and shutting the door behind him.

But even after he's fucked you senseless, you can't sleep. Your earlier thoughts haunt you and a twinge of guilt eats at your brain as you lay against a sleeping Su, head resting on his chest as he holds you close. Even when you see the clock hours change from ten to eleven, to twelve to three am, you can't help but dread the moment when he would awake and leave you alone in the bedroom.

And when six o'clock comes, his watch buzzes on the nightstand, shaking him from his hazy sleep.

Your fingers curl into his side, and Suguru groans, rubbing his eyes.

"You awake?" he whispers into the darkness, but you don't reply, hoping he would just lay there for a few minutes more. "Y/n? Your heart is beating a mile a minute."

"So?"

"So..." He shifts up, petting your hair gently. "I think we need to talk." Your heart plummets into your stomach, and you try not to react sharply, but Suguru clears his throat as he turns on the bedside lamp. You look up into his black eyes, and he blinks in the light, biting his bottom lip at the sight of you fully awake. "Why did you call me over here and not anyone else?" You fumble for an answer, but thinking of a lie just wouldn't do. Not for Suguru. "Aren't you breaking your rule?"

"No," you counter, sitting up straight. "I'm not falling in love with you. Your dick, maybe. But not you." The look in his eyes tells you that he knows you're lying. You hang your head, fighting back an apology.

"We should call this off if that's the case."

"No," you whisper, shaking your head. "I don't want that."

"I don't want that either," Suguru murmurs, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "But what happens if you go back to..." You sigh, looking away. "I'm a jealous lover, y/n. I'm not the kind to play around with."

"And I won't," you reply, head snapping back to meet his eyes. "I..." you exhale shakily. "I couldn't stop thinking about you when I was at Bergdorf's." The admission doesn't shock Suguru, but he does clasp his hands together. "Everything reminded me of you, and I--" You break off, hands shaking. "I'm scared."

"Have you discussed this with anyone else?" The question implies the obvious, and you look to your phone, opening it up and letting him see the contacts "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Saturday, Sunday" all with the same message:

Sorry, I have to cancel our weekly rendevous. Hope you understand.

"Am I saved as Friday?" Suguru chuckles, but you scroll down a little more, and his name pops up: Suguru Geto.

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

"I'm the special one, huh?" You turn his head toward you, leaning in to kiss him on the lips once.

"Please, let me break my rules for you." Suguru groans, leaning into your touch and kissing your palm in response.

"Let me start right now then, babe. And don't worry, we'll take it one rule at a time." You giggle as he tosses your phone aside and leans into you, kissing you just like he did before and switching off the light as daybreak comes.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @missbonekitty @wack0-genius @thankuary @r-i-m-f-009 @sunfloweroranges @leanne-tamashi @rein-icu @brownskinnedgirll @savantsoulfinder @chilledlucifer @kontentious @flare-on @meena-in-a-nutshell @falling-through-pages @naoyasdarling @vabybizzle

#geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen geto #geto smut #jjk smut #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto

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seesgood · 4 years ago

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can we very gently talk about call out posts / culture really quick? not in a judgmental way, but in like a: i just want to pose a thought and explain why i’m never going to buy into it and why i wish it would become less of a trend instead of more of one? and i’ll add the disclaimer here: i totally get not wanting certain people around you for various reasons, that is all your prerogative. that’s your comfort level. but in emphasizing “your blog should be a safe space” we’re kind’ve losing sight of the fact that the rpc should also be a safe space, and as much as your comfort and safety matter, so do other people’s. and not just the person who hurt you, but the third parties and other mutuals and 99.9% of people who are not at all involved in any way in whatever happened. so, anyway here goes, read it or don’t, we all have different opinions or reasons, i just want to be heard:

people are allowed to change. think back to who you were last year. two years ago. think about the stuff you said when you were seventeen, or twenty-one, or hell whatever age you were. current-you would probably cringe at the kind of stuff past-you had to say. because you grew. you learned. you had life experiences. in hindsight you have the freedom to be like “oof yeah that was not the best version of myself right there damn i don’t want to be like that again.” the growing trend of ‘here’s a 10+ page google doc complete with out of context screenshots that sometimes date back to like 2017 or earlier’ makes this kind of change impossible. because right there, you’ve just frozen a person in time, probably not at their best, removed any and all amounts of context, and put it on the internet and let other people judge it for themselves.

so that leads into another point that i want to just kinda present to the community at large: the act of documenting behaviors and storing them for months / years at a time, in itself creates a super unsafe environment, not just for you, your friends, the people who have hurt you --- but also for anyone else that isn’t at all involved in whatever happened. like, for example, i like to think that i’m a pretty nice person. i actively try to be a nice person. am i sometimes not having the best day? have people definitely caught me in bad moments? oh hell yeah. but am i, as someone who tries really hard to be nice and welcoming, constantly thinking through every message i send to someone knowing that a) i could have a reputation that makes them read into context that isn’t there and that could contribute to them misinterpreting words i meant in a different way, b) very aware that every post i make, ask i send, message i send can at any moment be screenshotted and posted and taken out of context and either serve as someone’s only opinion of me or pile on to someone’s existing opinion of me? yeah. so in my experience, and based on people i’ve talked to, we now have this thing where you can be surface-friends wtih a lot of people, but if you want to survive in the tumblr rpc you should really only have 2-3 people that you really trust that you can actually talk about shit with.

and lately i’ve been seeing a resurgence of posts on my dash about like “bring back xyz in the rpc” or “the reason the rpc is like this is because of xyz” and i both agree and disagree with a lot of this, but primarily i think the reason the rpc is Off lately is because everyone and their cousin has a DNI, which is --- again --- your decision and i understand and respect that, but while you know the context of every name on that DNI, other people don’t. and to be honest: other people don’t really care and honestly maybe they shouldn’t care. --- and don’t get me wrong, your friends should care if someone has hurt you. that’s important. but joe billy bob who just wants to write their character with yours is going to read through your rules, they’re going to see “do not interact with me if you follow with or interact with these people you’ve never heard of and if you want me to tell you why just message me” (which no one is ever going to do, i’m sorry to say). and say, joe billy bob also followed that other person because they were like ‘omg this blog looks cool’ --- now joe billy bob, who just wants to write cool plots, is suddenly the middle-man in some type of drama that they do not understand, and maybe they’re able to remove themselves from the situation, but even then it’s still in the back of your mind.

this is getting long. it’ll be longer, but let’s take a brief break for me to remind you that in some cases, it’s definitely good to give your mutuals and friends a heads up when someone has done something really, really bad. like, remember x amount of years ago when some dude was like ‘i’m gonna make up a new person and say they died by suicide as a social experiment’ or ‘hey this person actively tries to force very triggering plots about abuse / rape / incest onto people and has been doing so for years and does not seem to change their ways no matter how many people try to educate them’ that’s shit people should probably know about. and it’s also okay ( in my opinion ) for your friends to be able to message you like ‘hey i saw you’re writing with x and i just wanted to let you know i had this experience with them’ if that’s something they feel comfortable doing. and if they are comfortable with you still having the autonomy to make your own decision regarding the person.

i’ll be honest, for a second: i’ve been part of friendships and groups that have turned really toxic for one reason or another. a handful of times. there are probably people out there that are like “yeah this chick is really fake and manipulative and etc, i was friends with her back in 2019″ which, okay. yeah. i’ve definitely done shit and said shit that was not the most representative of who i want to be and who i want to become, and you probably have to. because we are human beings and we are a product of our social groups and the community around us. and you shouldn’t be chained to a version of you that isn’t you anymore. people change. they grow. you don’t have to like them, but you should respect that sometimes people don’t mesh, and that doesn’t mean any of them are bad people, it just means the experience was bad.

a few additional notes i would like to make but i’ve already gone on way too long:

90% of the callout posts that i’ve seen and the DNI’s that i’ve seen can, in my opinion, be classified as a friend group thing. you were friends with x, x did something, now y and z aren’t friends with x anymore. pain is a very, very real thing and people hurting you should never be minimized, but at some point i just want you to remember that not every friendship is going to end happily, but both you and the other party should be allowed to move on and grow better, healthier friendships after. rehashing Friend Group Gone Wrong instances removes that ability for not only person x, but also person y and z.

you putting out a callout says just as much ( maybe more ) about you than it does about the other person. which sucks. because i’d like to think we all have great intentions, and i’m not saying that you should swallow your pain, but it might not be the kind of thing that impacts the community at large, and maybe you should try to find a better way of working through it with a trusted friend(s)

i’m going to be very real and very blunt on this one: literally no one cares. i say that with love. i’m good friends with people who have each other on their DNI’s. establish a baseline of respect and ‘i’m not going to say anything to them about you and vice versa because there’s no need for me to do so’ and move on. but seriously. no one cares. most outside people read callout posts because they like being in the know about the drama, not because they actually care.

person a and person b who are mentioned in the DNI / callout aren’t the only ones who are going to be affected. your friends, your mutuals, your writing partners are now all put in a weird spot where you have to pick sides on an issue you know nothing about and shouldn’t have to know anything about. you’re asking people to choose sides on an issue they cannot fully understand, and that’s not fair to them or to you. and it drives great people away. and then we all lose out on having more awesome people in the rpc.

you’re entitled to your safe space, but this is a public platform and you are also responsible for maintaining your safe space. you shouldn’t put it entirely on other people to do that for you. you can block, blacklist, make up funny names for, or spitefully erase from your many anything and anyone that you wish. but you shouldn’t make your friends do it for you.

there’s always an inherent power imbalance when any kind of drama occurs between those who have more followers / friends / connections and those who do not. and the smaller blog is always going to suffer a little bit more because they don’t have people blindly coming to their defense.

bad moments, bad experiences, bad decisions DO NOT equal bad people.

allow people to make up their own mind about something or someone

anywho, if you read through this whole thing i think i owe you financial compensation. but also thank you for reading / listening / considering. even if you rolled your eyes through the whole thing like “stfu lia” that’s fine. i’m just presenting an alternative thought. i’d like to once again state: i’m not judging you if you’ve made a callout/DNI or if you’re on a callout/DNI. like i literally don’t care. and frankly, in my opinion, i shouldn’t have to. because i, and you, and your friends, and your mutuals, and your non-mutuals should be allowed the space to make up their own opinion and mind on something or someone without being told that there will be consequences if they don’t agree with you. set boundaries. communicate in healthy ways. you don’t have to forgive the people who have hurt or wronged you, but you also don’t get to decide that their actions make up 100% of who they are as a person, or decide that that is the only side of that person people should get to see.

#ʟᴇᴛ’s ᴛᴀʟᴋ ɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʀᴜʟᴇs ⸺ psa.#/ long post cw.#when i say long i mean LONG #i could do an entire dissertation on this #i could do a ted talk #but ys know #if anyone wanted to do some ahem non-light reading this morning #*jazz hands*#( if you want to reblog this monstrosity you definitely can )

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spacedikut · 4 years ago

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lockdown lovers ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: lockdown!au. spencer goes from expecting his days to be filled with books, books and more books to books, an asshole cat, and a cute anonymous neighbour. 4857 words

a/n: i was so excited about this and stayed up writing it so i hope you like it too :)

masterlist

It’s three days into lockdown when Spencer notices the cat.

It’s a Maine Coon, he recognises instantly, but there’s this distinctive… dead look in it’s eyes. The body is huge – so fluffy it looks like the cat has a mane, ears invariably up straight and large enough that the eyes look beady in comparison. A mixture of white and grey throughout, the cat spends its days lounging across the windowsill of the apartment in the building next to Spencer’s.

He’s fascinated. How can a cat be so big, so ugly, yet so lovely?

He has to know more.

If he was anyone else, he’d argue the obsession is the fruit of going stir-crazy in his apartment. A lack of seeing his friends combined with having to work cases from home would be the perfect justification for Spencer to move his work station to the window facing the cat.

But this is Spencer. He’s happy being stuck home. He just likes the look of the cat.

He spends a good twenty minutes rifling through his stationary to find a piece of paper and the appropriate pen to jot a note for the cat owner. He thinks the owner must be stuck home, too, so if he sticks the note to his window and waits a day, he could know the cat’s name within twenty four hours.

They’ve had plenty of staring contests. Spencer should know his rival’s name.

So he does. He takes his time writing out the words “I like your cat. Do they have a name?” clearly on the paper, then spends a good five minutes deciding where on the window to stick the message.

He decides on the upper left corner. You won’t miss it.

The cat blinks sleepily at him as they watch Spencer tape the question up.

There’s an answer within three hours.

Spencer is too excited to be embarrassed at how enthused he was when he noticed the response.

Or when he saw the name.

Hi there! His name is Mr Darcy :) He’s a dick x

Spencer can’t help but profile the writing, the syntax, the grammar.

The first thing he notices is there’s a feminine lilt to the way you write – you’re a woman, most likely. The writing is slightly messy, indicating high intelligence, and the use of a smiley face and a kiss makes him think you’re younger in age. If you live alone, which you must because you live in a one bedroom apartment, he can safely guess you’re around his age.

And Mr Darcy… you’re a bookworm. At least for romance and the classics.

Spencer likes Mr Darcy. He has so many questions, suddenly, like how is Mr Darcy a dick and how old is he and why does he never seem to move from his position by the window and what is your name and who are you and do you happen to read a lot of books? Like Ray Bradbury? Please say yes.

He shocks himself. Maybe this quarantine is getting to him more than he realises. He hasn’t felt this excited since Maeve.

He hasn’t been this intrigued since Maeve. And the circumstances are similar, he realises.

No. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Spence.

He worries himself into a spiral when he begins thinking about how to reply. As if she can hear his whining, Penelope calls him.

They’ve made it a habit to call one another a lot. She recently taught him how to use his webcam and has been encouraging him to write more on his computer, rather than by hand.

“Good afternoon, my favourite Doctor.” She sings. He hears some shuffling in the background and can tell she’s baking.

“I need your help with something.” He cuts straight to the chase.

Her interest is piqued, “Oh? I am all ears.”

“Remember the cat I mentioned?”

“The ugly-but-beautiful majestic beast that, if you believed in reincarnation, would’ve been a high class gentleman in his past life? Yes. I think about him every day.”

“His name’s Mr Darcy.”

She lets out a screech, a mixture of a groan and moan that is filled with pure glee. “Of course he’s called Mr Darcy! Tell me everything. How do you know?”

He’s clearly impressed with himself when he says, “I asked.”

“Whoa.” Penelope freezes in her kitchen. “Are you, Doctor Germaphobe, breaking the lockdown rules?”

Spencer feels insulted. “No! Never! I stuck a note to my window, like in that viral tweet you sent me.”

She chuckles, “Well, I already told you I could’ve told you everything about Mr Darcy and the owner if you wanted me to. I am incredible.”

“I appreciate the gesture, Garcia-“

“But it’s morally wrong. Yeah, yeah, heard it all before. What have you said back?”

“That’s what I need your help with.”

Garcia is only a little surprised he’s asking her and not Derek. But, then, as much as she loves Derek, he’s a bit too.. much for someone like Spencer when it comes to love. Spencer approaches people gently, hesitantly, often giving the impression he doesn’t even want to be there.

Derek can have anyone on their knees within minutes.

Different tactics, that’s all.

“Alright, pretty boy. How long have you been talking? Purely through window messages? What else has been said?”

“Well,” He begins, clearing his throat, making eye contact with Mr Darcy, “We’ve only spoken once. When I asked for Mr Darcy’s name. You know, studies have shown that animals can form lifelong friendships with other animals, even if they’re not from the same species.”

“Spencer.”

“Most research has focused on chimpanzees, baboons, horses, hyenas, elephants, bats, and dolphins - but there’s no reason to think that friendship is exclusive to these species.”

“Spencer!”

“What?”

“You’ve spoken to them once?”

“Her. Spoken to her once. And it wasn’t speaking, it was writing.”

There’s a long sigh down the phone. “First of all, how do you know the owner’s a girl?”

There’s movement in Mr Darcy’s apartment. Spencer stares. “The way she writes.”

“Uhuh,” Spencer can hear her stirring something through the phone, “And what was the last thing said?”

Spencer’s eyes narrow – is that a person? Is that the owner? Is that her? Oh my god.

“Spencer? You still there?” Garcia looks to her laptop, checking the call is still connected.

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. The last thing she said was his name is Mr Darcy and he’s a dick.”

“Oh,” Garcia smirks, “It’s sexy hearing you say dick.”

In normal circumstances, Spencer would register her comment and give a very distinct huh, but he’s distracted.

He sees Mr Darcy meow. A hand appears, petite, with fingernails painted yellow that have smiley faces on them. She brushes Mr Darcy’s fur back, pulling so the skin around his eyes tugs up high and he looks stupid. He seems to like it, though.

She must like smileys, he thinks.

Mr Darcy stands and stretches. He’s alarmingly long.

It’s silent on Garcia’s end, where she looks confused at the sudden silence. She checks again that the call is still connected.

“Spence?”

“Still here. Sorry. I thought I saw her.”

“Oooo,” She’s all giddy, “What does she look like? Is she pretty?”

“I couldn’t see her properly. I can tell she’s too cool for me already. This was stupid.” He sighs, “Forget I said anything. I’ll take knowing Mr Darcy’s name and move on with my life.”

Spencer moves to hang up, but is interrupted by a loud “No!” being shouted at him by Garcia.

“No, Spencer! No! You write something back to her right now and you form a friendship with someone that isn’t one of your colleagues. I love you with my whole heart, and you know that, but it would be good for you to expand your social circle!” She grins and bites her tongue between her teeth, “Aaaand.. this could be the start of a quarantine romance. God, I miss dating.”

At the mention of romance, Spencer visibly flinches. “I’ll see what I can do. I gotta go, Garcia, thanks for calling.”

“Love you. Please marry her so Mr Darcy can be the ring bearer.”

And she hangs up. He’s left contemplating whether he should respond, and what he should respond, as he watches the empty space where Mr Darcy is absent.

It must be dinner time for him.

+++

I’m curious as to how someone named Mr Darcy can be a dick.

That’s a good response, right?

Right?

It lets you know he gets the reference, he knows who Mr Darcy is named after, and leads you to continue the conversation. It’s perfect.

It’s taken him nearly two hours to come up with it. He feels exhausted.

He sticks it on the window, where Mr Darcy has returned to, and huffs out a breath.

He reminds himself to be calm and cool. This is simply a way to pass the time during quarantine, there’s no need to put too much pressure on himself to think it’s anything more or to put more effort than is necessary (he says, after spending two hours formulating a response).

Calm and cool. Cool and calm. Neither are words Spencer would ever use to describe himself.

Spencer stays up until nearly 1am reading. Just before he sleeps, he walks to the kitchen to get some water, and can’t resist checking to see if you’ve responded.

You have. He ignores the way his heart speeds up.

He used to share the windowsill with my other cat and a bunch of plants. Now he bites anything that attempts to move near him. He also likes to vomit on my pillow. My single pillow.

Spencer chuckles as he reads it. He remembers when the window was full of plants, and how one day they all just… disappeared. He assumed the person moved out, but now it’s funny to think that you had to move them all because Mr Darcy demanded he own that space.

He doesn’t recall ever seeing another cat.

Well, now he has to respond. He needs to know about the other cat!

He imagines Derek coming to him in an apparition, like some sort of angel, and saying, calm and cool, kid. Calm and cool.

Spencer decides he’ll reply in the morning. Cause he’s calm and cool, and totally doesn’t want to know anything and everything about you and the two cats you live with.

+++

The messages continue for days. Spencer learns a lot, despite his “attempts” to not profile you (“attempts” as in there was really no attempt).

He learns you were given Mr Darcy by a friend, he’s two years old, and your other cat is the recently adopted, affectionately named Stupid Sally. She’s a ginger cat, estimated to be at least four years old, and you refuse to believe there’s anything going on in that tiny head of hers.

Spencer catches a glimpse of Sally a couple of days after he learns her name. She jumps up beside Mr Darcy, bonks her head on the window, then is whacked by Mr Darcy and falls from the windowsill. Sally doesn’t make another attempt.

He still hasn’t seen you, though. The longer he talks to you, the more he wants Garcia to send him everything she can find on you.

But he has restraint. And fear.

He wants to know more, wants to learn more about the anonymous girl in the opposite building. He doesn’t even know your name, and he assumes you don’t know his, and he’s not entirely sure what number apartment you live in.

He considers asking to convert your conversation from post-it notes on windows to hand-written letters, but that reminds Spencer too much of Maeve and he can’t handle that.

Do you know how difficult it is for Spencer Reid, with all his knowledge and facts and ramblings, to limit himself and how much he says?

It’s torture.

The sun is blinding when Spencer pulls his curtain back, eyes navigating to see if there’s a new message waiting.

I haven’t asked, do you have any cats? Any pets? Mr Darcy would be a terrible boyfriend but Sally could use a lover :)

Before he can stop himself, his mind is whirring with the possible implications of your message. Does this mean you want to meet? You want to know about him as much as he wants to know about you? You’re interested?

He needs to call Penelope. He wants to talk to you so badly, learn everything there is to know, but he can’t bring himself to do it. The situation reminds him of Maeve and, although it’s been so long, he’s still mourning. He’s not sure he’s ready.

Turns out he doesn’t need to worry. You’ve got your own plan.

+++

“So,” Your friend sighs, flopping onto the couch, “You got his number? His name? Anything?”

“No,” You pout, “Not even sure he’s a guy.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

You playfully gasp. “I don’t know what you’re implying, but I am insulted.”

She chuckles. She knows all about your curious neighbour - she’s the one that encouraged you to reply and keep replying. And now she’s the one trying to convince you to form an actual friendship.

“Just put your number on your window.”

“Do you know how dangerous that is?!” You scold, “Anyone could see it!”

“Yeah, but neighbour guy could see it. And text you. And be really cute.”

You can’t help but glance behind you, into your bedroom window, where the infamous window is. Mr Darcy lounges, completely zonked out with the sunshine keeping him warm.

“What’s the worst that can happen? Some random people text you and you, what, block them? That’s it. Easy.”

Life is so easy for extroverts, you think.

You grab your notebook, rip a piece out and jot down your number before you have a change of heart. You’re essentially double messaging through the medium of your window messaging. But who cares?

What have you got to lose?

+++

Spencer stares at your phone number for way too long. Mr Darcy, as if sensing Spencer’s battle, lazily lifts a paw and rests it against the paper, pushing it into the window.

Spencer dials Penelope’s number straight from memory.

“I was beginning to think you’d died, Spencer-“

“Is it a terrible idea to start texting with Mr Darcy’s owner?”

“What?!” She exclaims, “No! No no no no no! That is an incredible idea! Spencer, please tell me you’re texting her!”

Penelope’s excitement gives him a rush of confidence. She’s always so supportive, so encouraging. Penelope is the best.

“I’m staring at her phone number. I just- we know what happened last time..” He trails off, voice meek. He wants to pretend he isn’t constantly thinking about the worst outcome, but he is. He’s scared.

Penelope’s voice is soft down the phone, “Spence. You have nothing to be afraid of, okay? I’m so proud of you for even considering texting her. But if you truly think you’re not ready, maybe you’re not. But remember, this doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to. You can keep the conversation to cats and cats only.”

Spencer smiles even though she can’t see him. She’s right. It doesn’t have to be anything and, honestly, it’s likely it won’t be anything – after all, Spencer isn’t exactly confident when it comes to women.

She might also have a boyfriend. A husband. A wife. He doesn’t know.

He realises he’s started thinking way too deep about someone he doesn’t even know the name of.

“Does that silence mean you’re gonna text her?” Penelope questions, suspense and hope clear in her voice.

“Yeah,” He replies, glancing at Mr Darcy, “I am.”

+++

[To: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner]: Hello. I’m Spencer.

[From: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner] hello??????? do i know a spencer?

Embarrassment flushes through him. What a weird way to introduce yourself, he chastises himself, Great first impression.

[To: Mr Darcy and Sally’s owner]: Sorry. I’m the one that’s been asking about your cats through the window.

[From: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner]: really? prove it

He wants to feel insulted that you’re so suspicious, but is simultaneously impressed that you’re so cautious. It makes sense to worry after posting your number for anyone to see.

[To: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner]: Of course. I’ll put a note on my window with my number now.

He does just that, shuffling quickly and frantically like he does when his mind is moving a thousand miles a minute during a case. He slaps the note against the window, unable to resist hovering on the off chance he spots you.

His phone buzzes.

[From: Mr Darcy and Sally’s Owner]: oh hi spencer! im Y/N, owner of Mr Darcy and sally :)

He can’t help but chuckle at the sudden change of tone. You take stranger danger seriously, it seems.

Why does he find that so endearing?

He’s getting ahead of himself, again. Calm and cool.

They pick up the conversation from where the last note left off, where you asked Spencer if he has any pets of his own. He finds it much easier to talk to you like this, rambling and all, which you don’t seem to mind. Your texting style is distinctively different to his, making his phone vibrate multiple times as you send each sentence of your message separately. He prefers writing chunks full of information, all with perfect grammar and punctuation.

You teach him what ‘wtf’ means and when he sends a meme to Penelope with that caption she loses her damn mind.

She decides she loves you there and then.

A friendship blossoms. It’s odd, he doesn’t know what you look like and you admit to catching a glimpse of him when he showed you his number through the window, but other than that you have no idea what the other looks like.

You know so much about eachother’s lives, though, and so much about eachother. You know which apartment you both live in, he’s got a whole list of reasons why Mr Darcy is a dick and he kind of agrees, you even know that he’s an FBI agent.

Then it happens.

He discovers what you look like.

He wants to play it off as an accident, he really does, but that would be a complete and utter lie.

The area under the window opposite yours has become his new sanctuary. He spends way too much time there, reading and whatnot, and he tries to pretend that it’s so he can watch Mr Darcy all day every day, but there’s always been a part of him that wants you to walk by. Maybe stop right in the centre of the window, pause, let him get a good look.

That’s exactly what happens.

He’s doing some “light” reading before he moves to his bed, where he will continue to read, and he sees the main light in your bedroom switch on. You always have a light on – you’re scared of the dark, just like him, but the main light catches his attention because Mr Darcy looks back and meows.

Someone’s in the room.

For some reason, he can’t tear his eyes away. It’s not the first time he’s noticed someone flutter around the room, never managing to really show themselves. It could the best friend you told Spencer about, the one that you’ve been stuck living with the past month or so.

But it’s not.

A girl appears, wearing an oversized t-shirt and shorts with still-wet hair. She dangles a cat toy before Mr Darcy, which he swipes at twice, then looks away, uninterested.

She rolls her eyes at that, then starts dancing and mouthing along to a song Spencer doesn’t recognise. Now he can’t stop staring – she’s captivating, whoever she is, as she prances around her room, arms flailing around and serenading a very unimpressed Mr Darcy.

This has to be you, he thinks. He doesn’t know why, but this has to be you.

Your passionate singing dies out. It’s the end of the song. Before the next one can begin, you happen to look up and through the window, straight at Spencer.

And you disappear.

You collapse. You definitely scream a little, dramatically falling to the floor and hiding under the window with your back to the wall.

Holy shit. You think. He’s cute and he saw me singing to my asshole cat.

He must think I’m crazy.

Spencer keeps staring at the now empty space of your window, Mr Darcy having been spooked by your exit.

He thinks he might be in love.

+++

Neither of you know what to say to one another after what transpired.

You’re too embarrassed, Spencer feels a little star-struck, and you’re both speechless.

Neither of you expected the other to be so.. attractive.

Your phone is thrown in your lap. “Do it. Do it now.”

In a daze, you blink up at your friend, “I can’t.”

“Don’t make me threaten you.”

You blink.

“I know where he lives. I will obliterate the lockdown rules to go talk to him and drag him here, then you can deal with this face-to-face.”

Your mouth falls open. “Are you insane?”

She unlocks your phone, opens your conversation with Spencer, and places it in your hand.

“Yes.”

+++

[From: Y/N :)]: did you at least enjoy the performance…..

Spencer’s whole body prickles when he sees you’ve texted him.

Maybe Penelope’s manifesting did work.

[To: Y/N :)]: I did. I didn’t expect our face reveals to be so…

I honestly don’t know what to say.

[From: Y/N :)]: s doctor reid speechless? am i that talented?

Spencer lies back on his couch, beaming at his phone like a teenager in a cheesy chick flick.

[To: Y/N :)]: You’re very talented. Mr Darcy clearly disagrees, but don’t listen to him.

And just like that, you’re back in the flow of things.

+++

When July rolls around, you and Spencer have been talking every day since March. Despite the monotonous, repetitive days, Spencer wakes up giddy when he sees you’ve texted him. He usually wakes up earlier than you, you have a habit of playing games or watching television until the early hours of the morning, and he loves to send you a fact to wake up to.

Your favourite are the animal facts. He got Amazon Prime just so he could buy a plethora of animal books and watch animal documentaries. All for you.

At one point, you evolved to phone calls. They don’t happen often and the first one was while you were drunk, but they’re fun for the both of you.

It had been a Saturday, you and your friend were having a movie marathon with wine and of course she brought up Spencer. She choked on her drink when you told her you haven’t heard his voice or seen him since the incident.

“You should call him,” She slurred, “Tonight.”

“He’s working on his jigsaw. I’m not going to interrupt.”

She gave you this incredulous look, asking Really?

“What?! I have respect for him and his jigsaws!”

“Have respect for yourself and how cute he is!”

“That doesn’t make sense!”

She sighed, placing her glass on the coffee table with a clunk, “Picture this: you’re helping him with the jigsaw.”

You couldn’t hide the slight upturn of your lips at the thought. You both love jigsaws, doing one with him would be stupidly romantic to you.

“Yeah.” She nodded ridiculously, “That ain’t gonna happen if you don’t call him!”

In your drunken state, you realised she’s right. You called him that night for a total of ten minutes before you passed out after calling him super handsome.

You both went to sleep feeling warm inside. Spencer called you again the next day, where the call lasted nearly two hours, and it went from there.

But now the lockdown rules are being eased. People are going back to work, meaning establishments like restaurants and hairdressers are opening up with limited capacity, all breathing beings expected to wear a mask.

Neither of you have mentioned actually meeting one another. You’re too nervous. What if he doesn’t like you? What if the image he’s created of you in his head is way better than you are in real life and he’s disappointed? What if he doesn’t want to meet you?

Spencer worries about the exact same things.

So neither of you say anything.

+++

It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes Spencer’s mail gets sent to the wrong address. Perhaps to his neighbour, the person living across the hall, or someone on a completely different floor.

Twice, Spencer’s mail has been delivered to the apartment building next door. The building he now exclusively calls “Y/N’s building”.

Now it’s three times.

Unphased by the mask on his face, Spencer glances around the lobby of your apartment building and wonders what your routine is when you get home. Do you immediately check for packages? Look at the noticeboard? Or do you go straight up to your apartment?

Spencer walks to the reception desk, smiling politely even though the person can’t see it.

“Hi, I’m from the building next door. I think my mail was accidentally sent here?”

He clicks a few buttons, types a few things, then flippantly asks, “Apartment number?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Let me go get it.”

He takes his time leaving his chair and wandering through a door. Spencer glances around. There’s a few people, all wearing masks (Thank God), doing their own thing.

There’s two girls next to him. He eavesdrops, because he’s bored.

“I’m too used to living with you now,” The girl facing him pouts, “I don’t want to go.”

The girl with her back to him laughs, light and sweet, “You live a block away.”

“You know Sally is gonna miss me.”

Sally? As in…

“She’s gonna miss you only because you feed her too much and now she’s fat.”

Wait.

“C’mon, Y/N-“

Spencer blocks out the rest cause holy hell. You’re right there. You’re standing right next to Spencer, in all your glory, and you have no idea that he’s right there, too.

Should he say something? Should he introduce himself? Should he..

“Here, sir. My apologies for the mix-up.” The receptionist re-appears, handing Spencer his mail.

“Thank you.”

And Spencer leaves.

Except he doesn’t.

He stops outside the reception entrance, takes out his phone, and texts you.

[To: Y/N :)] This is weird but I’m right outside your building. I think you’re in the foyer and I’m too scared to approach you.

Two minutes pass before the building doors fly open.

Your head swivels back and forth. When you find Spencer, adorable and awkward Spencer, he can tell you’re grinning from the way your eyes bunch up under your mask. God, he knows you have the most beautiful smile. Everything about you is beautiful.

“Hi,” You breathe.

Spencer mouths a silent hi. You’ve taken his breath away.

“I-um. It’s good to see you in person.” Your voice is soft. It’s soft, and smooth, and so much prettier in real life. It’s already pretty through the phone, but the real version shoots straight to his heart.

He gulps, “Yeah, it’s.. Unexpected, but nice.” The corners of his mouth quirk up and he can’t tear his eyes away from you, “You’re even more gorgeous in real life.”

The compliment rolls off his tongue naturally because it’s true and from the second he spotted you he’s lost all logical thinking.

“I am?” You ask, gentle and hesitant, almost asking are you sure you mean me?

Spencer blushes, somewhat embarrassed by his confession. But he meant it, Spencer’s not the type to say things he doesn’t mean, and you don’t give him time to regret it-

“Would you like to get some coffee? If you’re free now?”

Would it be too much if he screams Yes?

“Yes. I’m free,” He ignores the mail in his hands, stuffing it in his satchel, “But let’s avoid Café Nero, I assume you still haven’t recovered from the nightmare latte you had there.”

You grin, which makes Spencer feel fuzzy, flattered that he remembers anecdotes from your texts.

Of course he remembers. You remember he has an eidetic memory.

You shyly brush your hair behind your ears, both sides, and Spencer spots the bright red of them. You’re flushed, just like him, and it fills him with confidence to know you’re the same mixture of excited and anxious about meeting him in person.

“W-what about your friend?” Spencer gestures vaguely to where he assumes she’d be, “Would she mind?”

“She’s the reason I ran out here, so… I think she’d be mad if we didn’t leave her behind.”

You smile at one another, a few feet apart. Spencer’s bumped into by the opening door of your apartment complex and stumbles, apologising profusely to the unimpressed woman that just stares at him.

Through the entire ordeal you watch Spencer, only him, and can’t stop the radiant, love-filled look on your face.

Maybe Mr Darcy isn’t such a dick when he’s the reason Spencer came into your life.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #mine #oh to be spencer reid's neighbour that he falls completely in love with during the lockdown

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tropes-and-tales-archives · 3 years ago

Text

Rafael Barba: You Don’t Have to Stay

Word Count: 5945

TW: Angst, smut (oral sex, f! receiving; PiV, unprotected). 18+ only.

It was bound to happen eventually.

Rafael – most ADAs, in fact – didn’t mark time like everyone else. He worked six days a week, sometimes seven. He pulled all-nighters. He slept in his office sometimes. He almost never knew what day it was, let alone the date. He had to have Carmen remind him of important events, like his mother’s birthday or his anniversary with you. A date like the third of June could blow right past him otherwise, since he was ruled by court schedules and the unruly schedules of criminals.

He was lucky to have found you. He met you through a case where you were a witness, and then he tortured himself for a full month before he worked up the courage to ask you out.

Your schedule was as chaotic as his, and you were easy-going besides. Rescheduled dates, late nights where he only collapsed in bed beside you…it didn’t faze you. Still, he wished he could do better. He wanted to be the man who put you first in his life.

Because you put everyone else first: you had created and now ran your own non-profit, aimed at homeless queer youth. The fact that you even got it off the ground spoke to the iron will that existed behind your easy-going nature. You had started it with sheer persistence and a smidgeon of shaming. You weren’t above going to the media to castigate city officials and the rich philanthropists of New York. You had a steady stream of income now, and every dollar was stretched for maximum effect.

It made his chest ache with pride. You weren’t that much older than the people you were helping, but you ran the place like a benevolent queen. You comforted and aided the at-risk youth, and you were like a vengeful angel to the people that would prey on them. Which is how Rafael met you.

He saw your specialness right away, but others were noticing now too. You had been honored with a prestigious award from an LGBTQ organization, and you would be presented with the award at their annual dinner. Rafael knew you didn’t do any of it for the kudos, but he couldn’t miss the flush of embarrassed pride that pinked your cheeks when you told him about it.

“Will you come with me?” you asked, and you seemed shy. Rafael knew that you measured yourself against him and found yourself lacking, despite all the times he tried to convince you otherwise. You seemed to think that because your work was done in the trenches and in comfortable shoes, it was somehow less impressive. In his estimation, it was more impressive.

“Be your guest and see you accept a well-deserved award?” he replied with a smile. “Absolutely. I’ll get my tuxedo dry-cleaned.”

You hesitated. “Because sometimes…” You trailed off, unwilling to say it. He knew what you meant. Because sometimes you don’t show up when I need you, Rafael. That’s what you wanted to say.

“I will be there,” he promised. He tilted your head and kissed you gently, then pressed quick pecks to your cheeks and forehead and nose until you were giggling.

“It’s Friday the twenty-third,” you added. “Put it in your phone’s calendar.”

“I will,” he said, but he was already working at turning those giggles of yours into the sighs he much preferred.

In the end, he did not put it in his phone’s calendar. And because time slipped away from him easily and because you trusted him and didn’t want to pester him, he didn’t realize the date until it was too late.

*****

You knew part of it was your own fault. You had such a hang-up about not being a nag that you swung too far the other way.

Rafael was as swamped as ever at work. You hadn’t seen him at all in a few days. You texted him here and there, but his responses were sporadic. You should have called Carmen or actually stopped into his office outright, but you were busy too. And he had promised to not miss it.

That Friday afternoon, you did call Carmen. Rafael was with SVU, so you just left the message that you’d leave his ticket at the will-call window and meet him at the venue. It was a rare occasion for you to get dressed up, so you were treating yourself to a mini-spa day – to get your hair blown out and your chipped and ragged nails manicured. You could look like a well-put-together woman at least once, for your sake and for Rafael’s.

Your phone chimed the entire afternoon, but none of them were Rafael. It was fine, you reasoned. He was busy, but he’d be there for you. He knew how important it was.

That certainty bled away in degrees. You got to the Bowery Ballroom and didn’t see him. His ticket was still at will-call. You got a drink to steady your nerves – you had to give a speech – and circled the room. You chatted with familiar faces and met new people. Without Rafael to buoy you (you felt like a fraud sometimes when you dressed up), you felt awkward in your gown and heels. You kept a careful smile plastered on your face, and he still never showed.

Dinner was served, and you felt the empty chair beside you like a chasm. You checked your phone but there were no messages from him. It was late – there was no way he was in court.

The lights were dimmed and the program started, and that’s when you knew that he would not be there for you after all. You clenched your jaw against the tears that threatened. The presenter talked about your achievements, all the good things you had done to make the world just a little less dark. When you took the stage, you set your head at a defiant angle and gave your speech.

The irony of its subject wasn’t lost on you in the moment – the value of feeling valued. In the moment, despite the glittering award and thunderous applause, you didn’t feel valued at all.

*****

Rafael had forgotten the importance of the day, and he only realized when he called Carmen to check in.

“Your ticket is at will-call,” his assistant told him, and Rafael wracked his brain for a solid minute before a sick dread washed over him. His mouth flooded with saliva; he felt like he might throw up.

He and Liv had spent the afternoon at Rikers. They were trying to hammer out a deal with a lifer there – it was tough work, so an ADA’s presence was required. He hadn’t had his phone on him, but even as he scrolled through his unread messages, he didn’t see any from you. That sick feeling returned.

You never held him to account for his terrible flightiness. He knew you didn’t want to seem needy – some byproduct of an ex of yours – so you kept your needs under wraps. Still, he knew he disappointed you a lot and now this?

This was a relationship-ending faux pas.

Liv saw the panic on his face, and she tried to get him there. He kept revising as the commute got longer and longer. First, he abandoned going home to get his tuxedo – better to show up under-dressed than not show up at all. Second, he abandoned the idea of getting there on time. The important part was your award and speech. You’d forgive him missing the dinner, he hoped.

But there was traffic, a fender bender on the Williamsburg Bridge, and he and Liv were stuck sitting for far too long. He drew his hands over his face, horrified at his blunder. He thought about texting you, but that was probably worse. The last thing you needed was a cheap excuse about traffic via text.

Liv dropped him off at the Bowery, and he still held a shred of hope. It was misplaced, though. The dinner was long over – the waiters and waitresses were lounging and drinking leftover drinks, and a cleaning crew was already sweeping the floors.

You asked him for nothing. He gave you less than that. You both had odd and irregular hours, yet you always found time to make him feel like a priority. You dropped coffee off in the morning, brought him dinner in his office. You waited up for him at night, and when he was too tired to make love, you just pulled him to you and soothed him to sleep with your gentle nature.

There was nothing to do now other than go home and face the inevitable.

*****

You were glad that you still had your own place. True, you spent most of your time at Rafael’s, and a lot of your stuff was there. It had crept over piece by piece. There’s no way you could move it all tonight, so you just stuffed as much as you could into the biggest bag you had.

You heard his key in the door but ignored it. You were incandescent with rage, so mad that you hadn’t changed out of your gown. You also hadn’t bothered to clean up the sooty mascara tracks that your tears had cut down your face. Rafael rarely made you cry, and you always tried to hide it when he did. When he rescheduled your birthday dinner to work late with Liv. When he was late to meet your parents because Liv had a Noah emergency.

Come to think of it, Rafael had SVU scheduling conflicts and Liv scheduling conflicts, and the line between the two seemed awfully blurry sometimes.

You heard him come into the bedroom, but he didn’t say anything right away. You didn’t either. You just pulled your favorite pajamas out of the drawer he had set aside for you and stuffed them into your bag.

Finally he spoke. “Liv and I – “ he started, but you gave a bitter laugh and cut him off.

“I don’t want to hear the name ‘Liv,’” you told him. You grabbed a pair of socks and added those to your bag. “Or the name ‘Olivia’ or ‘Benson’ or any variation thereof.”

“Cariño,” he started. His stupid pet name for you. You usually loved it, but it felt like a knife in the heart. It was just a word. You wanted actions, not cheap words, even if they were Spanish and coming from his mouth.

“Don’t.” You zipped up your bag and finally looked at him. He recoiled at your face, tear-streaked and red, and you felt like some sort of Greek monster. Medusa, maybe. Your nice blow-out already felt ruined. No sense trying to be something you weren’t: you weren’t a fancy woman who wore fancy clothes and went to fancy events. And there was no sense pretending that Rafael was a supportive boyfriend or, really, even much of a boyfriend at all.

You charged past him, careful not to touch him. He reached out a hand but you ducked it and went to the entryway. You started to put your heels on, then rethought it. You could get those later. Instead, you pulled on your worn and comfortable Doc Martens. You knew you looked like some sort of deviant debutante – gown and combat boots and wild hair and smudged mascara. Good. It might keep the creeps on the subway away from you.

“Hey,” he said. He did lay a hand on your arm. You shook him off, but he did it again. “I’m sorry.”

You stared at him hard. “Sorry? Sorry?” You didn’t think you had any tears left in you, but they started up again anyway. “The one thing I asked for, Rafael. One thing! I never ask you for anything, and you couldn’t do one fucking thing!”

“I know – “

“You don’t though!” You swiped at your eyes with the back of your hand. “How can you remember every detail of Liv’s life but not mine? You turn up to Noah’s adoption party. Noah’s birthday party. Liv’s promotion happy hour.”

“I know – “

“I give you one date to remember. Forget my birthday, forget our anniversary, forget dinner with my parents. Fine. But this one time I needed you beside me, and all you can say is ‘sorry’ and ‘Liv and I.’”

“It’s not like that – “

You pulled your coat over your arms and glared at him through your tears. “I don’t care what it’s like.” You hoisted your heavy bag and turned to leave, but he grabbed your wrist gently and held you back.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said. “But let me get you a cab, at least.” His voice was small. If you weren’t so angry, you’d reach for him and soothe him like you always did. Tell him it was okay, that you weren’t one of those girls who needed anything from their boyfriend. Your hurt was too big, though, and you knew it wasn’t just the missed awards ceremony. You needed more from him and would never get it.

His hand was warm on your wrist. It’d be easy to stay, but you were done.

“I can manage on my own,” you snapped at him, and his misery was obvious. “I have been for a long time.” You jerked your hand out of his grasp and left.

*****

He knew it was bad, but he never once suspected that you were jealous of Liv. Maybe a long time ago there had been a hint of a mutual attraction with her, but that had died on the vine before it could blossom. Just as well – Liv was a trusted friend, and Rafael met you shortly thereafter. That had been more than a hint of attraction, and you had been a steady and wonderful presence that he had never experienced with any of his exes in the past. He had loved you instantly and thought himself insane to have fallen so fast and hard. It had turned out to be genuine.

He still messed it up. Probably irrevocably.

He worried that you wouldn’t make it home. You lived all the way in Queens, and you were a mess when you left. He wanted to call you and check on you. He thought you might get angry at the intrusion, so he let it be.

He didn’t hear from you for a week. Then another week. He knew he’s see you again – you had too much stuff at his place – but it was the longest few weeks of his life. He couldn’t sleep. He kept reaching for you in the night and found nothing but your side of the bed, cold and empty. He kept looking up when he heard an unexpected knock on his office door, but it was never the person he wanted to see most.

He didn’t eat well. He was snappish with the people around him, Liv especially. It was unfair to her, but she did have a way of monopolizing his time. And she was so selfless, it felt wrong to deny her when she called with an emergency or visited for his advice or company.

It was at the end of the third week that you finally showed up. Maybe you thought he’d still be at work, but Rafael had started leaving work at a reasonable hour. Part of it was the hope that he’d catch you coming to get your stuff. That hope finally paid off.

He heard the key in the lock and shot to his feet, so when you came into his place, he was standing awkwardly in his living room and staring at you. He felt sick when he looked you over: you looked tired and sad, and he knew in the pit of his soul that this might be the last time he saw you.

You couldn’t quite look at him, but you didn’t seem angry anymore. You just seemed so sad, like you might cry at any moment. Rafael hated that he made you cry, and he knew that he had probably made you cry more than he realized. You probably had just hid it from him.

“I just came to get the rest of my stuff,” you said quietly. He nodded but you missed it – you were already walking back to the bedroom with your empty bags.

He should just sit and leave you in peace, but he couldn’t. He was never there for you; he had always assumed that there’d be another opportunity to make his short-comings up to you. But he was out of time now.

He walked into the bedroom and found you emptying the rest of your drawer. Rafael wanted to kick himself. You had just gradually moved some stuff in until he gave up that drawer, but you had been embarrassed by it when he teased you. He should have made a grand gesture and asked you to move in with him properly. He should have cleared out his closet for you. One measly drawer was all you’d gotten. Less than his suspenders, in fact.

Then he watched you walk to his bathroom and back. All your toiletries were stashed under the sink, like a dirty little secret. All he had done was make it easy for you to extricate yourself from his life. A few bags full of stuff, and you were gone.

He sat down on the bed heavily, like he’d lost the strength in his legs. The weight of every poor decision weighed on him, and he saw you pause for a moment when you noticed him. There was a flicker of something in your eyes. Compassion, maybe. Maybe love. Maybe you still loved him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and his voice was raw with emotion.

“I know you are.” You were still a moment, and then you dumped your armful of shampoo and soap and lotions into your bag. When you walked past him to grab another armful, he reached out and grabbed you. He pulled you to him. You didn’t resist him, but you didn’t skip over to him like you usually did. A neutral response then.

“I can’t fix it,” he said.

“No,” you agreed.

“I’m sorry that I ever made you think Liv was more important than you,” he said. He gazed up at you and saw your swollen eyelids. You probably wept a river of tears over him, and the thought made him tear up. “I’m sorry that I never let you know how important you are to me.”

“I only asked you for one thing.” You weren’t angry – just resigned. Sad.

He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to ask for anything. Cariño, I’m so sorry.” He saw them then, fresh tears. You tried to pull away, but he held you in his iron embrace for a moment. You stood between his legs, and he kept his hands on your waist.

“Listen to me though,” he pleaded. “I need you to know this.” He waited until you looked down at him, and he added, “I’m so proud of you. It’s one of the biggest regrets of my life, missing that moment.”

“Thank you.” Your voice was shaky with the crying you were attempting to hold back, and he eased you onto his lap so that he could hold you. You didn’t fight him. Just once, he told himself. He just wanted to comfort you once, bury his face in your hair and let you cry against him. You had never asked for that, instead comforting yourself in the silence of his apartment when he disappointed you. He could do it once. He could be that stalwart boyfriend for a single moment before you left him for good.

You let him. At first you were rigid in his lap, but as the tears broke forth, you melted against his chest. An unfamiliar position for the two of you: you curled against him and weeping, him holding you tight and trying to hide his own misery. He did bury his face in your hair. You smelled like strawberries, bright and sweet.

You turned a little to wrap your arms around his chest, and he could feel the need radiating off of you. All the times you had played it cool or pretended to be okay. You had needed him then. You were tough and capable; you seemed invincible. He hadn’t realized that you might be faking that invincibility sometimes.

He knew it now. And he could guess at what you needed from him in this moment. You needed him to fight. To fight for you.

“Don’t go,” he muttered against your hair. “Please, stay.”

You only cried harder, and he added, “Give me one chance to make it better. One shot.” It was more than he deserved, but it was all he needed.

“I’ll leave Sex Crimes,” he offered. His desperation was mounting – any minute, you were going to climb off of his lap, zip up your bags, and leave him. “I’ll get a job with regular hours.”

That made you turn to look at him. “It’s not your job, Raf. It’s me.” You gave him a little shrug, so matter-of-fact that it tore at his heart. “I wasn’t a priority.”

He didn’t know what it was – that you thought you weren’t a priority for him, or that you had every right to feel that way. Rafael inhaled sharply like he’d been punched, and he couldn’t fight the tears anymore. He blinked against them once, then twice. Then he started to cry.

Rafael couldn’t remember the last time he cried. He’d shed some tears over Yelina and Alex. Maybe when his father died; he hadn’t cried over his father’s death, really, but more of the lost potential for a reconciliation and relationship with him. Some cases moved him, and he shed some tears over those in private.

Now, though, he cried. He didn’t bother to hide it. You weren’t the type of woman who’d shame a man for crying anyway – and that thought made him cry even harder. You weren’t like any woman he had dated before: you were warm and kind and comforting. And he had lost you.

Right now, however, you froze on his lap. He couldn’t look at you, but he felt it a moment later when you wound your arms around his neck and pulled him to you. Warm and comforting – that was you through and through.

You had told him once that your work was twenty percent harassing rich people for money, and eighty person giving comfort to the abused and neglected youth you worked for. You had given him some insight into the comfort side of things too.

“When someone is crying,” you had told him. “Don’t tell them that it’s okay. Because obviously something isn’t okay.”

As Rafael cried against you, you held him tight and rubbed circles on his back. You didn’t tell him to not cry. You didn’t tell him it was okay.

He would never know what caused the shift in you. Years later, he’d suspect that it was crying in front of you, showing vulnerability. Maybe his tears proved how badly he didn’t want to lose you.

You slid your hand from his back up to his neck, and you ran your fingers through his hair in that soothing way you had. Your other hand reached up to brush away tears that still trembled at the edges of his eyelids. When he finally chanced to look at you, you were gazing back at him with nothing but love in your expression.

“Stay,” he choked out. “Stay.”

You looked uncertain. He could see you wavering, so he played dirty – he surged forward and kissed you. He put all of his love and care for you into that kiss, and he hoped you felt it.

You did. You kissed him back just as hard, and after a moment, you threaded your fingers through his hair and tilted his head so that you could kiss him deeper. Maybe it was a way of taking your anger out on him, or maybe you missed the physical connection with him. Either way, you kissed him deeply, sucked against his lower lip until he opened his mouth to you. He groaned to taste you again – whatever made you taste like you, and the faint remainder of the pineapple sodas you loved to drink.

He pulled you down onto the bed on top of him, knocking your half-packed bag onto the floor. You didn’t notice; you only kissed him fiercely until he was breathless underneath you and he had to break away to catch his breath.

“Will you stay?” he panted as you shifted your mouth to his neck, sucking a trail of stinging bruises along his throat and across his collarbone. “Stay with me?”

You shifted your head again, and he groaned as he felt you nip at his earlobe and then draw the tip of your tongue along the whorls of his ear. “I’ll stay the night,” you whispered. “But – “

He cut you off before you could continue. “I’ve prove myself to you one day at a time. Stay tonight, and I’ve prove how much I love you tomorrow too.”

“Raf – “

“And every day after.” He turned his head and kissed the soft skin of your neck, felt the warmth of you under his lips. He latched onto the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, your weak spot that turned you into a puddle. You moaned as he drew his tongue along that spot, and he turned you until you were underneath him. He propped himself on one arm to keep some of his weight off of you, but you wound your arms around his neck and pulled him onto you.

He felt uneasy, like he was coercing you maybe, so he reared back to look you in the eyes. “We can stop,” he said. “If you want to go, you can.”

You slid your hands from around his neck to his chest. Your palms were flat against his pectorals, pushing against him lightly. “I said I’d stay the night,” you murmured as you gazed back at him. “I want to.”

He only nodded, then kissed you again. A little slower this time. Less frenzied. He stroked your hair back with one hand as he tongued you deeply and felt you taste him in return. Your hands worked at his button-down shirt, and you untucked it from his pants so that you could slip your palms under his undershirt. Your hands were warm along his belly and chest, and you sunk your nails into his skin until it stung. Claw marks, the bruises on his neck and collarbone…Rafael realized that you were marking him as yours. Maybe as a souvenir if you left and never returned, maybe as a warning to other women. Either way, the possessiveness made his cock twitch painfully against the confines of his pants.

He didn’t want to mark you, though. He had already bruised your heart. Instead, he stripped you one piece of clothing at a time until you were in your panties and stretched out underneath him.

He kissed his way down your body, and he tried to put all of his love into those kisses too. He could spend hours at your breasts, kissing the soft flesh and working his tongue against your peaks until they were pebbled and sensitive to his nipping teeth. He licked the curve of each mound, then kissed his way lower. Over your ticklish ribs, across the soft swell of your belly, to the waistband of your panties. He slipped a finger under the lace edging and eased them off of you. He noticed how wet they were and smirked against your hip.

Rafael moved lower still. He pushed your thighs apart and bit back his own groan at your arousal laid bare before him. He paused only long enough to shed the rest of his clothes so that you were both naked, and then he had you raise your hips enough for him to place a pillow under you. It changed the angle enough for him to lie against you.

He bent your knees and placed your legs over him so that your feel were resting against his shoulder blades. He kissed the inside of your thighs and growled the filthiest things he could think of. It was one of those things about you – you’d blush like crazy if he said something innocent like you look gorgeous or I like sleeping beside you – but you were shameless about how much dirty talk turned you on.

“You’ve got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he murmured against your slick folds. He drew the flat of his tongue against you, and you gave a tortured moan above him. He felt you dig your heels into his back, and he licked you lazily. “And you taste like fucking candy,” he added.

He lapped along your cunt, and he measured his actions against the noises you made. He eased a single finger into you as he tongued at your sensitive clit. “So fucking wet for me,” he smirked. He slowed his actions until you whined and begged him for more.

He added a second finger, then a third as he feasted on you. You were unraveling above him: your heels dug into his back, and your thighs squeezed against his ears until he was certain he might suffocate there. Surrounded as he was by your very essence – the smell and taste of you – Rafael felt like he might explode, and he reached down with his free hand to fist his own cock and relieve some of the pressure.

“I’m c-close,” you stammered, and that was his signal. He crooked his fingers in you and stroked your g-spot as he sucked against your clit hard, and it was enough to push you over. Your hips bucked against his face, and he felt your sheath rippling against his fingers as you cried out above him.

He didn’t give you time to recover. He pulled his fingers from you and crawled up your body until he was lying on you again. Your face was flushed, almost feverishly so. He took his fingers, still coated with your arousal, and pressed them against your lips.

“Open,” he said. “Taste how fucking good you are.”

You parted your lips with a groan, and he slid his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around them, sucked them clean as you moaned against them, and that’s when he shifted himself and slid his cock into your molten core. That pulled a groan out of you, and he removed his hand from your mouth and replaced it with his own mouth. He kissed you deeply, possessing you with both his cock and his tongue.

You wrapped your legs around him, and your heels digging into his ass spurred him to fuck you faster. “You feel so good,” he growled in your ear. “So fucking good, taking my cock, mamí.”

“Faster,” you whined. “Please.”

He did, plunging into you faster and faster. He felt the scaffolding of his control collapse, and he could tell you were close too by the way you were gasping. Normally, this was when he’d unleash some final bit of dirty-talk, maybe in Spanish, but an audible cue to push you over the edge. But this might be his last time with you, and he wanted to make sure he said what was in his heart.

He thrust harder until your eyes fluttered open – another tell-tale sign that you were a second away from orgasming. He reached up and grasped your face, forced you to focus on him as he led you to your conclusion.

“I love you,” he panted as he hilted his cock into you. “So fucking much.”

“I – I…love you,” you gasped back, and that was that. He felt your cunt tighten against his thrusting, and you cried out his name. His own tight coil of growing tension snapped, and he shuddered as he spilled himself in you.

He took a moment to recover, and then he pulled out of you. He cleaned up and helped you clean up, and then he pulled back the covers and coaxed you into bed with him. It was still too early to sleep, but you had said you’d stay the night. You could cuddle for a moment, then maybe grab dinner. And, hopefully, you could talk a little. Rafael need time to talk to you. His way with words was one of his strengths, and he needed some time to convince you that he could do better.

Rafael could take it one day at a time. You were nestled against his bare chest, your ear over his heart. ��He’d tell you that you were the reason it kept beating, but it would sound too corny. Besides, empty words were meaningless to you. You were a woman of action, not words. Your life’s work proved as much.

He reached over to his nightstand and fumbled for his phone. You caught the motion and sighed. There’d been too many times that your time together had been interrupted by his stupid phone – SVU calling for a warrant, Liv calling needing an ear to bend. Rafael tapped out a message, sent it, and tossed the phone down.

“Need to go?” you asked, and he didn’t miss the resignation in your voice. You expected to come in second (or third) in his life, never first.

No more. He’d take it one day at a time. He murmured ‘no’ and kissed the top of your head, and then he tugged the blanket over both of you more securely.

“Just had to send an email,” he added. “Had to let Carmen know I’d be out tomorrow.”

You shifted your head enough to glance at him. “Really?”

He sighed and kissed your forehead. “I fucked up royally,” he told you. “But I mean it when I say I want to fight for you. Prove that you’re the most important thing in my life.”

You snorted at this, but there was no fire behind it. “I’ll give it an hour until SVU calls with some emergency.”

Rafael reached down to tilt your face to his. “I turned off my phone,” he said seriously. “And the Sex Crimes Bureau has other ADA’s. Liv can learn to start leaning on O’Dwyer or Callier more.”

You smiled up at him – a real smile that he hadn’t seen in weeks. It made the tightness in his chest loosen a fraction.

“I doubt they’re as well-dressed as you,” you teased.

“They absolutely aren’t,” he agreed. “But they are good ADA’s and can take on some more of the burden.” He watched you nestle back against his chest, and he asked what your schedule was like tomorrow.

“Tomorrow is sorting day,” you said, your voice muffled against him. The least glamorous bit of your job, sorting through donated goods. Clothing, toiletries, non-perishable food. You sorted it and bundled it for your clients to help ease their lives on the street.

“I’ll help you,” he said, and you chuckled. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know. I can…lift things.”

You laughed again, and then you pressed a kiss to his chest, and he felt more of the tightness loosen. One day at a time. It felt precarious at first, but really – it’s how anyone lived. One day, one moment at a time. He couldn’t guarantee any future, but he could make you feel like you were the most important one decision at a time.

#rafael barba #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #tropes-and-tales

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hphm-stuff · 4 years ago

Note

Hi.. I saw your post about hphm writing ask. Would you like to write some fluff about Talbott and my MC Viviana (Viv) please. Even Any fluff about Talbott alone too would be more than enough for me 🙂. Looking forward to it . Thanks and have a great time 🌸

I love Talbott and was really excited to get this request! As a general rule, I just right x reader fics so that everyone can enjoy them. I’m more than happy to write the fluff, and I really hope you enjoy it! I took this and ran with it, so hopefully it’s to your liking!

Pairing: Talbott Winger x Reader

Warnings: None, pure fluff.

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: Lil’ eagle boy overworks himself often, and you have to step in to remind him to take a break, take a breath, and enjoy the little things. Like flower crowns.

Note: I can’t draw for the life of me, but I would literally pay for a picture of Talbott with a flower crown. Please message me if you would let me commission that or something.

Flower Crowns

It was a Saturday, and you couldn’t find Talbott anywhere. You knew, knowing him, that he would be studying somewhere. The library? Too loud. His common room? Also too loud. His dorm? Not enough room for all his books at once. Your feet took you toward the abandoned Transfiguration classroom before you even realized where you were going. It was quiet, out of the way, and empty until Monday. That was the perfect place for him to go to focus. You stopped in front of the classroom and pushed the door open. It creaked gently, and you winced as you stepped in. You knew your boyfriend, and knew that he hated to be interrupted while studying. His head whipped around. The look on his face was a mixture of stress and annoyance, but once he registered it was you, it was replaced with a gentle smile. “Hey.”

“Hey. I was just looking for you.”

His smile grew ever so slightly and his voice took on a playful tone. “Miss me that much? We just saw each other last night.”

With a roll of your eyes and a light smile, you moved to occupy the vacant seat beside him. You turned to him, noting the literal mountain of books beside him. They had to be stacked at least a foot tall. A sigh escaped your lips as you looked over them. “It’s Saturday, T. Saturday afternoon. It’s a beautiful day outside. Why are you in here?”

He was scribbling something down on his parchment and answered absentmindedly. “There’s a Potions test on Monday, love. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Of course I didn’t forget. Do you do anything other than study?”

He looked at you like that was the dumbest question he’d ever heard. “You know I do other things. We went to Hogsmeade last weekend.”

“After I practically begged for you to go. I’d asked you every week, and you finally relented.”

He shrugged, almost brushing you off. “I want to do well in classes.”

“Talbott, you already do well in classes. I can guarantee you that you’ll walk into that Potions test and ace it, without even trying.”

He sighed. “I just want to make sure I do that.”

“You need to stop working so hard sometimes. You’re so smart, T. So smart. You need to take a day to yourself sometimes.”

He was staring at his books, but you knew he was hearing your words. You watched him from your spot beside him, waiting for any sort of response. When he was quiet for a bit, you prodded more. “You need to think about yourself, T. You’re going to overwork yourself and burn out.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“When’s the last time you went a day without cracking open a book when you didn’t absolutely have to?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Please, take a break today. Let’s go do something. I don’t want you burning out.”

“Let me just go over a few more things and then I’ll put the book away, alright?” he sighed.

You relented and kept him quiet company as he worked. It took hours of you trying to entertain yourself and pestering him for him to finally pack up his books. It was getting into the early evening when he finally packed up.

“Can we finally do something?” you asked.

There were only so many things you could do to keep yourself occupied in an empty classroom. You’d already roamed the class, looking at all the books that line McGonagall’s shelves. You’d looked through the books Talbott brought that he wasn’t using. You’d even stared out the window for longer than you even knew.

Talbott looked at you with a gentle grin and nodded his head. “We can do something.”

You grinned in response. “Meet me by the forest in ten minutes. If you’re not there, I’m coming to find you.”

“I’ll be there. I’m just going to put my books away,” he responded after a light chuckle.

You took his word for it and made your way back to your dorm, grabbing a bag and shoving a comfortable blanket in there. You also grabbed yourself a sweater, tossing it in the bag as well, just in case it got chilly later. Once you’d grabbed everything you needed, you set off toward the forest. Talbott had beat you there, and he greeted you with a playful grin. “For a second I thought I’d have to come find you.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning as you made your way toward him. You took his hand and led him toward the outskirts of the forest, far enough away to be safe. The area you chose was riddled with little flowers of all colours. You then set down the bag you brought with you, pulling out the blanket and laying it on the grass. You heard Talbott speak from behind you, the smile evident in his voice. “What do you have planned?”

You let out a soft giggle and moved to sit on the spread out blanket, patting the spot beside you. He sank down onto it, turning to you with a smile. You returned it. “I just wanted to spend some time with you. I feel like we haven’t had a full conversation in forever.”

Talbott was leaning back a little, his hands on the blanket behind him to support him. He scooted closer to you, his tone light. “Or, maybe, you’re too high maintenance.”

He was grinning, his tone light and playful. You gasped, feigning offence. “Excuse me?”

He laughed gently. “Clingy might be the better word? Attached? Maybe obsess-”

You cut him off with a kiss. He smiled gently against your lips as he returned it. When you pulled back, he was grinning. “What was that for?”

“Your Ravenclaw was showing. I needed it to stop.”

He laughed gently, leaning in to press a light kiss to your cheek. “You usually love it.”

“Not when you’re making fun of me.”

He grinned, moving to place an arm around your waist. You looked at him, taking in that beautiful moment with that beautiful boy. It struck you, just then, how far you two had come. Talbott, usually reserved, quiet and lonesome was different with you. He was almost carefree. It was a wonderful feeling, realizing that you brought this out of him, even if it was only with you. He pulled you out of your thoughts with a soft clearing of his throat. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks before looking away. “Sorry.”

He tugged you closer by the arm that was draped around you. At this point, your thighs were pressed against each other. You picked your head up to look at him, and found that he was already looking at you. “What were you thinking about, (Y/N)?”

You shook your head. “Nothing.”

“I don’t buy that,” he mused.

You gave him a timid smile. “Just thinking about you.”

“About me?”

“Yeah.”

“What about me? Good things?”

You giggled. “Always good things, T. Just shocked at how different you are with me than you are with other people.”

A grin took over his face. “What can I say? You bring out the best in me, darling.”

His cheesiness made you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face was sure to let him know that you appreciated the comment.

The two of you spent some time chatting out in the open field, enjoying each others’ company. You, at some point, absentmindedly started to play with the flowers around you. You picked one, and with a grin, stuck it in Talbott’s hair while he was mid-sentence. He turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

You beamed at the sight in front of you. Talbott was a slightly intimidating looking guy, and the flower in his hair was in total contrast to that. “You look so cute.”

He dropped his gaze to the blanket in front of him. You caught the smile and the light blush that dusted his cheeks. You giggled softly, moving to lean into his side. He wrapped an arm around you. “Well, if it looks that good, I see no need to take it out.”

You continued to pluck some flowers, suddenly getting an idea. You started tying them together with the stems, starting to make them into a haphazard circle.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s a flower crown,” you replied as if it was obvious.

“A what?”

“Usually you need a wire to put the flowers on, but we don’t have that right now. You just tie the flowers together and make them into a circle that will fit your head.”

You glanced over at him and caught him starting to gather up his own flowers. A light smile found its way onto your face as you turned back to the crown you were working on. When you were finished, you proudly presented it to him. It was a floppy mess of stems and blossoms, but he looked at it like it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

“For you, my love,” you giggled as you set it on his head.

He grinned at you, halfway through his own. You took in the sight of him with the crown on his head, looking even more beautiful than he had with just the single flower in his hair.

The sun was setting, and the golden glow on him in that moment made your heart skip a beat. He looked so soft. So sweet. He didn’t even notice your staring as he was so focused on his own crown. He got it done a few minutes later and grinned as he held it up for you to see. It looked a lot worse than yours, but you loved it because he made it. He moved to set it on your head. “You, my darling, look radiant as ever.”

You giggled, and for what felt like the millionth time that night, blushed. The two of you sat together under the setting sun, chatting and cuddling up for warmth, or so he said. The night air was not, by any means, chilly, but you suspected that he wanted to be close to you without admitting it.

After sitting out there well past curfew, the two of you decided to pack it in for the night. Hand in hand, you walked toward the castle, still wearing your flower crowns. He walked you back to your common room and the two of you stood there for a moment. He finally spoke. “Thank you for convincing me to do something other than study. I needed that.”

You giggled. “I’m always happy to distract you. Those books get more attention than I do.”

“That’ll change, I promise.”

“It better,” you replied playfully.

He grinned at you, leaning in to place a delicate kiss to your lips. You placed a hand on your cheek as you returned it. When he broke away from it, he gave you a light smile. “Maybe we can do something else tomorrow?”

You grinned. “Of course. Any suggestions?”

“Doesn’t matter to me, as long as I get to spend time with you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After one more gentle kiss, he was off to his common room. You watched him go, only turning to head inside when he was out of sight.

#hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #talbott winger #talbott winger x reader #talbott winger x mc #bill weasley #charlie weasley #barnaby lee #ben copper #rowan khanna #one shot #penny haywood #merula snyde #tulip karasu #nymphadora tonks #talbott x mc #talbott x jacob's sibling

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it-was-summer · 4 years ago

Text

Video Killed The Radio Star - Chapter 2 (Spencer Reid x Reader)

A/N: I’ve gotten so much positive feedback and a lot of people seem to like so I am so happy to share another chapter with you all! In this chapter I will put Asterisks (***) before anything that might seem triggering to some viewers just to give you all a heads up! I would also like to add that virginity is a concept made by man and if you are/aren’t one that is valid as hell!- much love, Em❤️

Warnings: torture, blood, cursing, distributing individual / content, sex talk, sensitive material ahead.

Plot: The team works to find you before the situation escalates, you spend time in a less fiery version of hell.

Word Count: 2.2k

“This girl made my job easier,” Garcia was logging into your computer with a smile “, It was never difficult, but now I get to skip a few tiny steps.” She was searching through your emails, looking for any messages that could have been from your stalker, there was nothing so far. So she moved to your phone records, unknown calls, texts, anything that could help.

She did find one call from an unknown number that had left a voicemail a few minutes before two in the morning on the night of your abduction, but the only thing that she could get from it was the sounds of sobs before the line goes dead.

The rest of the team was combing your apartment in Richmond. The most impressive thing about this whole case was how you knew something was going to happen and the evidence you left behind for them. Sticky notes decorated your desk, labeling everything from your passwords to the gifts your stalker had left you. Another thing that shocked the team was seeing photos of almost all of them, you didn’t get one of Garcia, with little sticky notes next to them.

The sticky notes contained little comments like “Fine as hell,” that one was for Reid, Morgan teased him about it before he looked at his own picture that had the note of “Arms?? Yes?”

It seemed like you had a sense of humor that you didn’t let on in your videos. It made Prentiss laugh, but as soon as she did her eyes looked down at the carpet, seeing a single rose petal near your nightstand. Instead of being red like all of the others, it was the pale color of pink. “It looks like the Unsub is in love with her,” she bent down to pick up the petal with a glove “, or whatever their demented version of love is.”

Reid was focusing on the books, you had a tiny library growing at your house filled with classics, some fiction, others nonfiction. He took note that you already had copies of the Brontë sister collection in your library, and they looked slightly worn down. He couldn’t help but wonder why the Unsub would give you books you already owned. Was it just for their notes? Why couldn’t they use the copies you already own?

Hotch tore Spencer away from his thoughts “The bed was neatly made and there are no signs of struggle, indicating that our Unsub probably made the bed and had time to clean up.”

“Or that she was too afraid to sleep, either way, they probably drugged her and got her out of here as fast as they could,” Prentiss added as she searched the bed for any other evidence.

Reid hummed as he watched Prentiss flip pillows over “It could have been someone she knew, a friend maybe?”

“We can’t rule out anything.” Hotch said as he looked at his wrist for the time “Ried, go with Morgan to the library. Prentiss and I will visit the family.”

***

March 6, 20XX

The night of your abduction you were sitting on your couch, holding one of the decorative pillows close to your chest as you watched the black screen of your television. You felt numb, after you recorded your video you broke down. It started off as crying and then slowly developed into a panic attack, but now you were on your couch trying to think about anything but this horrible situation. You glanced over at the time seeing it was nearing two in the morning, you had already called your mother. She told you to come home and you said you would in the morning.

You couldn’t think about her right now, you started to cry, finding it surprising that you still had enough water in your body to cry again. Sobs escaped your mouth, then something pricked your neck and the world was gone.

When you woke up it all felt so soft. You felt like you were laying on the softest bed ever created, your eyes fought against you, opening slowly in fluttering moments. The room was illuminated in a wondrous pink light, you smiled in your drugged state before it all registered. You suddenly felt hot, on fire, everything was on fire. You attempted to sit up on the bed, slipping back down with a yell, red rose petals flying up around you as you collided with the bed. You carefully sat up, looking down at the bed, if you hadn’t just been kidnapped you would think was romantic.

You tried to pull your legs up to your chest, but you screamed out in pain. Your eyes darted around the bed, in a terrified attempt to stay calm as you looked down at your leg. Bile found its way into your throat, burning in your esophagus as you looked down at your snapped ankle. You vomited off the side of the bed, your body shaking vigorously.

“Catherine,” A terribly sweet female voice spoke, “ My sweet Catherine, you’re awake.”

You coughed lightly before spitting the rest of the vomit out of your mouth, turning your head to look towards the sound of the voice seeing a familiar and beautiful brunette woman smiling over at you. “My name isn’t Catherine,”

“Yes, it is. You’re Catherine Earnshaw, Jane Eyre,” she walked closer, her hair swaying to and fro gently “ Hell, You’re Emma Woodhouse and I am,”

“Crazy, you’re fucking crazy!” you screamed.

“I’m Heathcliff! I am Mr. Rochester! I am Mr. Knightley!” She screamed back at you, her happy demeanor changing in a second, rage decorating her face for a simple second before she let out a calming sigh and smiled once again. “I’m sorry, my sweet, I didn’t mean to scream at you like that. I love you.”

Tears were streaming down your face as you nodded, slowly “You love me,” too afraid to speak out against her again, you nodded through your tears.

She sat on the edge of the bed, that you were slowly realizing was indeed heart-shaped. She reached her hand out, you flinched feeling it land on your head, her hand petting your hair gently.

March 8, 20XX

Morgan was smiling a considerate smile across the table at one of your coworkers, Noelle. She was a pretty blonde, had a sweet smile. The only thing they got out of her was that you were single, her eyes stayed on Reid when she said that, and that you were nice to everyone. Baked for people on their birthdays, or days they were struggling, you were… you are considerate.

Reid hated to admit that the nicest people always seemed to capture the attention of the most dangerous people. Unwanted, cruel, attention.

Spencer excused himself, stepping away to take a look around the vast library. There was a small cafe in the corner of the library, it was possible that the unsub first met you here, checking out a book or something of that kind. He went back to Noelle, “Would you say that Y/N had admirers?”

“Not really, but there was something in December,” she let out a soft sound as she gathered her memories “,this woman came in, beautiful, said she knew Y/N from college or something. It was a weekend so she wasn’t working, but uh she was nice, wanted to buy Y/N a Christmas gift, and asked what she would like. Y/N likes roses, she likes romantic stuff so that’s what I told her.”

Morgan’s eyes widen, holding back his comments as he thanked Noelle for her time before turning back to Reid “A Woman?”

Spencer nodded, trying to make connections in his head. The books and the roses made sense, why the blood-soaked panties? The roses because of what Noelle said, Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre were classic romance books. He had read them both, but he wanted to see your new copies of the books, your annotated versions.

As for the blood-soaked pair of panties, his mind went to one thing, innocence. Assuming that you weren’t a virgin anymore the blood covering them would mean that your innocence was already taken from you. The unsub might’ve given them to you to remind you what you’d lost or to make the threat that you should have stayed a virgin, that you should’ve stayed innocent. However, despite your so-called ‘ruin’, it seems that she still loves you, hence the gifts.

Spencer assumed that the unsub thought that the two of you were connected through romance, maybe even a taboo type of romance. The romanticism of Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre made that fairly obvious to him, as well as the rest of the team. Red roses symbolized romance, while the pink rose symbolized admiration and grace, indicating that your relationship with the unsub could have been anything but new.

“Can we get a map of all of the florists in the area?”

***

You pressed your face into the cushions, it was a weekday and she had yet to come in. Heather, after a day or two you finally remembered who she was, Heather Alexander, she lived on your floor your freshman year of college. She was quiet, sweet, and, apparently, crazy. In college, she seemed less glamorous, wore glasses, had quirky hair, complete with a babyface. You used to invite her over whenever you would bake something sweet, till one day she was gone. Dropped out.

Now, almost seven years later, she seemed so broken. Living in a delusion, thinking that she was some hero or romantic interest of yours. The two of you were destined to be together, well that is until you live out the fate of Catherine Earnshaw and die.

You found it painful to cry at this point, you were so dehydrated and tired that you didn’t even try to force the tears out. It wasn’t that you were too tired to fight, well that was to be debated, you still had plenty of fight left in you. You were playing it safe, the thing that was holding you back from fighting was your mother. You couldn’t bring yourself to put yourself in danger, you needed to hold on to her, you needed to see her again and you knew she needed to see you again. So, you did what you thought was best, for now, lie in bed and feel numb.

It wasn’t that hard to feel numb, given that Heather had you hooked up to a morphine drip. You learned that whenever she was mad at you she would call you Emma, sometimes Jane, but for the most part you were Catherine. When you were Catherine, she would give you all the morphine you wanted for your broken ankle and when you were Emma or Jane she would ween you off till she saw fit. So if you were Catherine, you would feel numb, feel okay at least for now.

You were staring up at the ceiling, feeling especially stoic, when you heard keys jingle at the door. It opened, showing a glimpse of a regularly lighted room, fluorescent as ever, before leaving you and Heather in this disgustingly pink room. “Catherine,” she threw her keys off towards the counter in the corner of the room. You were too drugged up to think about an escape plan, too drugged up to do anything but stare up at the ceiling. It felt so desperately good to be numb, you barely noticed when she touched you, but as soon as you did her touch felt like fire. “Catherine,” she leaned in close, her lips meeting yours in a second. Heather kissed you with her eyes closed, you always kept your eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling waiting for her harassment to be over. You never kissed back and she didn’t seem to mind so long as she was enjoying herself.

Heather pulled away with a childlike grin “Did you enjoy yourself today? I wish I could have stayed with you, but duty called!” Your eyes traveled down to the name on her uniform, it was the name of a floral shop near your work, the roses.

Your speech was slow and slurred, causing Heather to reach over to the morphine drip, fixing it so you would get lower levels of the drug, but that wouldn’t start working for a couple of hours. Heather seemed to know that so she simply got up, walked away, grabbed her keys, and went towards the door “You can answer in a few hours. Till then, my Catherine.”

***

Prentiss watched your mother as she played with her hands, her mouth trembling as she spoke “Y/N called me when it all started,” she looked up, her eyes shifting between Prentiss and Hotch “I should have listened, oh I should have listened!”

“Mrs. L/N, you didn’t know this would happen. You can’t blame yourself here.” Prentiss offered comfort towards your mother only for her to let out a heartbreaking wail of pain.

“She’s all I have.”

Hotch and Prentiss were walking down the porch steps with a tin of chocolate chip cookies, a habit of her’s that you had picked up on. Prentiss looked over at Hotch, whose eyes betrayed him, she didn’t say anything about the look in his eyes. She knew that he probably didn’t want her to ask. She blew out a sigh as they got into the car

“Need a cookie?”

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lurking-latinist · 3 years ago

Text

and the genremixer returns triumphant! reminder that you too can use @john-amend-all‘s excellent Genremixer at http://www.seasip.info/Misc/genremixer.html

I may have done sort of a lot this time, so below the cut:

Doctor/Romana - imprisonment & Date “I said I’d take you somewhere nice, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t think you meant a nice cell.”

“Well strictly speaking I didn’t. But isn’t it an improvement on the one we had on our last night out?”

Doctor/Romana - worst case scenario & secret relationship “My family won’t hate you, Doctor. You’re over-reacting.”

“Romana, my family doesn’t like me. Why would yours?”

“Well, if they do hate you, they’ll at least be polite about it.”

“I bring out the worst in people.”

“Even if they’re rude, they’ll hardly forbid you the house.”

“I’m a renegade. They could forbid me the planet.”

“It won’t come to that, Doctor.”

“But supposing it does?”

“It won’t.”

“Could you please just introduce me as your colleague?”

Doctor/Romana - accidental marriage & Forever It was a silly mistake, of course, not to have asked the meaning of the ceremonial goblet. But it was done now, and neither of them felt quite as embarrassed as they would have expected.

“It’s only temporary. We can get divorced, of course. Next planet over, easy.”

“Yes… but let’s answer that message we were putting off, first.”

They had all of time to fill. So there always seemed to be something else to do first.

Doctor/Romana - Finally & Keys “I can’t believe he’s been starting this thing with a crank for all this time.”

Doctor/Romana - forbidden romance & Anniversary & beta couple “I’m really not supposed to be seeing you right now,” she whispers. “Not in the middle of my campaign.”

“I know, but how could I stay away on today of all days?”

She counts up the time in her mind, allowing for varying planetary rotations and multi-temporal anomalies, and smiles reminiscently.

“Besides,” he adds as the sound of a human voice sternly rebuking the High Council reaches their ears, “I think the focus right now is on Andred and Leela.”

Doctor/Romana - kidnapping & road trip & unrequited love She was furious at first, until he could explain he hadn’t known she was being sent to him either.

Now she blames the Guardians, and she likes him. Now they’re happy traveling together. Two Time Lords, seeing the universe.

Dare he tell her he wants more? Could he bear it if she smiled that wide, sparkling smile and let him down gently?

Doctor/Romana - competition & mundane au & angst She really shouldn’t be so friendly with the head of the rival lab, even if her boss, Professor White, had asked her to collaborate with him.

Well, he wasn’t so much the head of the rival lab as… he just was the rival lab. He couldn’t afford a real assistant, he told her, “unless you count my dog.” Which she didn’t.

He wasn’t conventional, but he was funny and clever and she liked him. And she was beginning to suspect his approach actually worked better than the ones she’d been taught so far.

Now she was working on a funding application for White’s lab. But she happened to know Smith was applying for the same grant. And surely he needed it more?

She was horribly tempted—to sabotage White’s application, to refuse to do the paperwork, to quit her job and join the other lab, even unpaid.

She buried her head in her hands, distressed. She’d studied decision theory, but it didn’t seem to be helping.

Doctor/Romana - attacked by a creature & Luck & Making up “I’m sorry that I accused you of relying too much on your luck,” gasped Romana as the chimaera yowled at the base of the tree.

“I accept your apology,” said the Doctor graciously, only slightly hampered by the fact that he was clinging to a narrow branch. “But why bring it up now?”

“Because,” said Romana, “it’s increasingly obvious that you don’t have any!”

Doctor/Romana - First(s) & Breaking the rules & Opposites One tall, one short. One dark, one fair. One strange, one familiar.

You weren’t really supposed to play around like this. At least, that’s what they’d told her at the Academy, when they’d explained to all the students about regeneration. But she’d never done it before, and she’d had a rough day, and she deserved a little fun.

It wasn't as if the Doctor was judging her for it. Well, not much. And he was clearly smitten with anything she picked. So why not?

Doctor/Romana - turning to the dark side & stuck in an elevator & rivals to lovers “Bet you I can get us out of here quicker than you.”

“Bet you can’t.”

“You’re on!” —— Somehow—he’s not quite sure how, not that he’s complaining—they’re kissing in the corner of the lift. She’s got one hand reaching up behind his head, drawing it close to her, and the other hand—

Wait.

—the other hand in his pocket—fishing for his sonic screwdriver.

That wasn’t in the terms of their bet!

“You cheat!” he cries, recovering the use of his mouth. “You dirty rotten cheat! I expected better of you!”

“Just equalizing the odds,” she whispers, then winks. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

Doctor/Romana - Love at first sight & The little things He’d seen plenty of beautiful women before. At least, they’d been reliably identified as such. He’d known lots of people (more to the point) who were elegant, clever, and well-educated. No, it wasn’t any of those things that pushed him over the edge.

It was the flashes of genuine excitement that shone through her polished façade. It was the way she urged him (him!) to take a chance. It was the way she announced exactly what was wrong with him and the way she let the topic drop. It was the curl of her hair, the sparkle in her eye, the fluff on her wrap, the strap of her shoe. It was—well, it was her.

Doctor/Romana - we're all going to die! & holiday & culture shock Curious and courageous as she was, it still took Romana a little while to get used to a life of adventure.

“That was terrifying,” she gasped after the thing with the seven-headed warriors of Vrask and the sacred amulet. “I really thought we were for it!”

“What, that?” the Doctor scoffed, not very reassuringly. “That was just a pleasant country stroll. Rule of thumb, until they actually bring out the headsman’s axe, it counts as a day off!”

Doctor/Romana - non-sexual intimacy & Creative & time bomb She was glad they were imprisoned together, for once. And it was the brig of a spaceship, so it wasn’t dirty or smelly. It was so clean as to be a bit depressing, honestly—which was why it was such a comfort to have someone to snuggle up to, someone warm and soft who brought a sense of cozy untidiness everywhere he went.

“Is this comfortable?” he asked as he adjusted his arms into a new position around her.

“Yes, but”—she hesitated—“this might be the right time to tell you that they have strapped a small explosive to my back, so if you could be careful not to trigger it…”

“Don’t worry,” he said. He let go of her and started fishing in his pockets, presumably hoping for any tools they’d left him. “I can work around that.”

#doctor who #classic who #fic #fourth doctor #romana i #romana ii #ersatz genremixer #microfic

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7wanderingpaws · 4 years ago

Text

Always, yours (3)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

AU: professor Baekhyun, domestic AU, family AU, triplet craze AU

Word count: 4.8K

Warnings: none

tags: @geniusloey (let me know if you want to be added!)

Masterlist / story masterlist

<--Previous - Next -->

You were crying and everything was a disaster. The baby corner was full of onlookers and you never hated your life as much as you did in that moment.

Upon hearing small gurgles of your son, you ran the remaining distance, taking your scared, crying son from Sonhee’s hold. She handed Jun without any question and you quickly cuddled Jun to your chest, your tears of fear and worry rolling down your cheeks without you realizing.

You were mad at yourself. So, so mad. How could you leave the weakest baby alone with a stranger? How could you forget to tell them not to feed him without your presence?

You bit your lip harshly as you heard Sukyeong sending everyone away. She was then talking to someone quietly but you wouldn’t pay attention. Jun was now a whimpering mess, his ear-piercing screams coming to a halt when he felt your presence.

“Oh, what a young mother,” someone muttered from behind you, a hushed whisper still caught by your ears. “No wonder she isn’t doing well yet without experience.”

More tears welled up in your eyes. Even though you couldn’t see clearly, you looked at Jun’s face, his father’s eyes looking back at you. How come baby’s tears could be so big? They were rolling down, taking up a huge space on his small, red cheeks.

“It’s okay, mummy’s here,” you murmured quickly kissing the tears away. Carefully cradling the back of his head, you brought him to your neck so he wouldn’t be exposed to other intrusive eyes. Juna and Junhee were restless as they were held by Sonhee and Mrs Lee in the meantime.

What to do? You were thinking frantically. The only thing that came to your mind was to go home. Obviously staying in this gym wasn’t doing you nor the kids any good.

“Sukyeong,” you muttered, not turning. The wall you were facing was a pastel blue but it didn’t do anything to calm you down. “I’m going to go home. Can you bring me my stuff?”

“I’ll take you-“

“I’ll take you home,” a familiar male voice spoke up out of nowhere.

Slightly turning, you saw Lee Junho looking at you with worried eyes. When you didn’t respond, instead holding your son closer to you, he added: “I’m the owner of this gym and I feel responsible. Please let me take care of this by giving you a lift.” He turned to Sukyeong who was a little taken aback. “You may go back and resume the workout with Kanghee, she will finish the class for me.”

“But she is my best friend, I’ll take care-“

“I insist.”

You wiped your eyes, realizing you’d been shedding tears the whole time with your heart broken. Jun was finally quiet but he managed to pee himself in the ruckus so you nodded quickly, agreeing: “Go finish the workout Sukyeonga. I’ll take up on Mr Lee’s request.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded and reached for the baby bag you always carried around. “Yeah. It’s no problem. I’ll be back, I’ll just change his nappy and clothes. Please watch out for the girls until then.”

</3

“I thought you were just a university student,” spoke up Junho as he was driving slowly towards your home. “You are so young I-” he stopped himself, growing speechless as he gently shook his head.

Jun was tied to your chest in the baby carrier while both girls were in the backseat, safely in their baby carrier baskets. It was a headache to install all of it in Junho's car but you didn't mind as long as he would take you home and you wouldn't ever see him again.

Only now, as you were seated with some time to think were you reminded to look at your phone. You wanted Baekhyun to come downstairs to help you with the kids, only to feel like crying again when you finally read his messages he sent you before you started your class but didn't read.

I know you know it but make sure to remind them not to feed Jun just in case we never know when the reflux hits again and I'm worried about him since you won't be there

“Sorry, I keep blabbering,” laughed awkwardly Junho and you looked at him. He was staring ahead, sometimes looking out his window as if unsure where to look. “So you're a mother. Of triplets. Wow… Anyway, how many months young are they?”

You heaved out a small sigh and managed to smile, liking to talk about your munchkins. “They are only three months old. And before you go and judge me about leaving them alone, I double-checked with the baby corner whether they are able to take care of the kids.”

“Well, my mother - Mrs Lee - is in charge of the baby corner. She is an expert when it comes to babies,” he said and you felt even worse that he was blaming himself when in fact it was all your fault. “Sonhee is also great with babies.”

“It isn't their fault at all. It's mine,” you admitted and looked down at Jun's face. He was sleeping peacefully, cuddled to your neck, his gentle baby smell and baby powder you used calming down your senses for a minute. “I should have mentioned he has problems with accepting food.” Plus, the words of a stranger woman came back flooding your already beaten up mind. Oh, what a young mother. No wonder she isn’t doing well yet without experience.

“I can only imagine how difficult it must be for you,” murmured back Junho, not wanting to disturb the babies. “Sorry if I am being too nosy but what about their father? Did he leave you?”

“Oh, no, he is at work. Well, he should be home by now,” you said quietly, frowning. “But he usually works a little late so-”

“-so you're alone with the kids the whole time,” finished Junho, his voice somehow accusatory.

You stole a glance his way again, catching the tighter grip on the steering wheel. “Well, someone has to feed us.”

This time, Junho looked at you and caught you gazing down at your son. “Many men just do that - knock up a woman and then let her take care of the mess while they live freely.”

You frowned. “I know my husband for many years, Junho,” you told him in a cold voice, a little disappointed he thought of you or Baekhyun in such a way, let alone thinking of your blessings as a mess, “and he does his best for me and our kids.”

Junho was once again shocked, shooting you a wary glance. “You're married, too?”

“Yes,” you snapped, “I don't wear my ring for the workouts, you know?”

“I'm sorry-”

“It's fine,” you sighed, running your hand through your messy hair.

“I misjudged.”

“I thought people like you shouldn't be so fast to judge.”

“You're right. It is just worrisome to see you so young with triplets alone.”

“I wasn't alone,” you reminded, “I was with Sukyeong.”

“But it should be their father who is by your side.”

You only hummed, not wanting to talk about your personal life with a stranger. Sure, a handsome one but he was a stranger. When you recognized the neighbourhood, you unlocked your phone quickly, kissing Jun's temple in the process. With a little shock, you noticed your hands shaking. It must have been the stress. “I'll call my husband so he can come downstairs.”

Junho was silent but he nodded nonetheless. Baekhyun's phone rang four times already but he wasn't picking up. Frowning, you were about to put the phone back down when he suddenly picked it up. The background on his side was so loud, you accidentally pressed the “speaker” option, Baekhyun's voice filling up the whole space in the car.

“Sweetheart, I'm not home yet, sorry!” he said and you heard some clinking of cups in the background. “I was dragged to dinner with my colleagues but I'll try to come home soon, alright?”

Your throat restricted, lump rising as you tried to put it back to silence.

“Are you home, yet?” asked Baekhyun when you didn't reply.

“Yeah, I finished a little earlier,” you told him and finally managed to put the volume down. Pressing the phone to your ear, you saw Junho speeding up to enter the underground carpark. “Don't worry, I'll be waiting home.”

“Is all good?” he asked, his voice more serious.

Your eyes were hurting from the burning tears so you closed them, praying you wouldn't start crying again in front of Junho. “Yes! All is fine!” you replied, too cheerfully. “See you soon, honey.”

“Alright, I trust you,” he added with emphasis. It was supposed to be a small threat in case you wouldn't be telling the truth and you knew you would hear it from him once he'd find out you lied, but you couldn't care less in that moment. “Love you, baby.”

You swallowed. “Love you, too.”

As soon as you ended the call, Junho said: “I'll help you with the kids.”

You nibbled on your lower lip. “Thank you.”

</3

It was an uneasy feeling; arriving into an empty apartment with the lights off. The heat of the summer evening was hitting the space which made you head straight for the air conditioner in the living room, Jun in your tight grip.

“Don't worry, you can come in with shoes,” you said hurriedly to Junho who was shuffling at the entrance, trying to take off his trainers while having a baby bag over his shoulder and two babies in the carriers.

“It's okay,” you heard a smile in his voice and by the time you appeared in the corridor leading to the entrance door, he was already walking in, looking around with focus and unhidden interest. “You have a really nice apartment.”

You smiled, saying a small thank you, and headed to the baby room, telling him to follow you. The gentle smell of baby powder welcomed you when you entered and turned on the lights. “You can just put them down here and I will take care of the rest.”

Junho clicked his tongue and lowered the carriers on the fluffy carpet, but he proceeded by crouching down and unbuckling the sleeping babies. “How could I just go? Let me at least help unpack.”

You stood unsurely above him. You knew as a mother you should be fast to take charge and get everything done according to your rules, but for some reason, you couldn't. Junho was very careful with the babies as he undid the belts and when he looked up at you, he froze. “What?”

Almost rigidly, you shook your head not wanting him to misunderstand whatever he was interpreting in his mind. “No, no, nothing! I mean - thank you for coming all the way up here and of course for driving me home.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” And just like that, he brought sleeping Juna out and with one questioning glance, you navigated him to put the baby in the crib, soon following with Junhee's sleeping form. “Do you want me to put these somewhere?” He pointed to the now empty baby carriers.

You smiled gratefully. Junho really seemed to want to help. “That's fine, I'll do it.”

He nodded and soon enough, silence spread over the baby room. Jun was awake but as usual, he didn't make a sound and only this once you wished he would, so that you'd have a good excuse to start moving around and do what you originally intended. Jun needed feeding despite vomiting everything before.

“I'm going to go then,” he said after a small while. You already felt bad for not being able to host him properly enough but with Jun still on your mind and worried eating you away, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

You nodded and when he moved out of the room, you spoke up. “I am not going to come anymore. I mean - to exercise.”

Junho turned around with a little shock. “If it's about what happened today, then don't worry about it. It's only normal.”

“No, it isn't normal,” you sighed, dejected. “Babies are still too young and Jun is quite sicklish. I forgot to tell the babysitter not to feed him. I'm so irresponsible.”

Junho was fast to spot the utter guilt in your eyes and the way you avoided his gaze. Frowning on the ground, you pursed your lips while gently running your hand over Jun's butt. He would always thought you looked beautiful and cute in that moment with the baby, but he knew it must have been difficult on you as a mother of triplets at such a young age.

“I don't know much about you,” he started gently, “in fact I wish I knew more because you seem to be interesting. But you are doing everything by yourself. You spend days alone with them and you probably have a head full of worries and three kinds of checklists that you mentally tick off. I won't judge nor mind if you don't want to exercise anymore. But maybe once your little ones grow bigger you can come back and I will gladly make the best work-out routine for you. Your body is your everything. Don't neglect it.”

Even though he could have saved that last sentence, Junho's words made you think; even more so that they were more accurate than you would have expected from a man who didn't have kids yet on his own. At least you thought he didn't have.

“Thanks a lot,” you smiled again, but the more the meeting prolonged the less you felt like it. A good cry was what you needed. “I'll reach out once I will be ready again.”

He nodded and started to put on his trainers. “I wish you all the best,” he said once he straightened up to his full length.

You nodded and let him out of the apartment. “Take care.”

He turned around just in the last moment, startling you. “I'll be waiting for you.”

Breath hitched in your throat and you could only manage to look at him speechlessly.

“At the gym! Of course at the gym!” he added quickly, laughing when he saw the expression on your face. He looked incredibly handsome when he laughed and his awkwardness made you heave out a little laugh as well.

“Okay, I'll meet you much later at the gym,” you replied, still smiling.

“That's good enough.”

</3

It was quite late when Baekhyun arrived home. The apartment was dark and quiet and he mentally cursed for not being on time again.

He went straight to your shared bedroom, not wanting to wake the triplets by accident and when he opened the door, your dim bedside lamp greeted him. With it you lying on your side and next to your chest a peacefully sleeping Jun. He was surprised to find the baby with you in your bed.

“Baby, I’m home,” he whispered, hoping you weren’t asleep yet.

You hummed, opening your eyes to see his suit-clad figure. He walked over to your side and hovered over you, looking at Jun and then at your side profile. He trailed his hand over your arm soothingly.

“Baby, why is Jun here?” He looked over his son again. “Did something happen?”

“All is good,” you said, your voice heavy with upcoming sleep.

Baekhyun understood you didn’t want to talk. He expected you to be hurt or even offended that he didn’t let you know on time about his delay. He always felt guilty for leaving you to be with triplets the whole time by yourself.

“I’ll go shower, you sleep,” he mumbled eventually when he didn’t receive more of an answer. A hum met his ears and he pressed a small kiss to the side of your face before taking off the suit jacket. He was unbuttoning his shirt when you took Jun into your arms, wanting to bring him to his crib.

Without sparing Baekhyun a glance, you walked past him and he took a hold of your waist gently, stopping you from leaving. Your tired eyes met his before you let them look at his exposed chest, the shirt still hanging off his wide shoulders. “You’re mad, right?”

“I’m not mad, Baekhyun. I’m tired.”

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I know I promised you that I’ll be home by-“

“You didn’t promise anything,” you interrupted him quietly. “You said you’d try to make it home earlier and I'm sure you did.” You hesitated. “Let me put Jun into bed. I need to lie down, too. It's late.”

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he said in a hushed tone and he sighed.

You managed to smile and shook your head before walking ahead and out of the bedroom, Jun still in your tight grip. Maybe it was the shock of the day that you didn't want to tell Baekhyun what happened. But you were certain you were mad at yourself more than at anyone else and you were positive Baekhyun would be extremely dissatisfied if he found out how irresponsible you were. You had a heavy heart and you wanted to keep to yourself for the time being. Jun was all fine, thankfully, which was the only reason you could put him to sleep separately from you. The idea of something happening to him again while you weren't present was probably the first issue that would come to haunt you in the future as a mother. This was how it felt like; leaving your kid and always hoping they would be fine without you.

By the time you came back, Baekhyun was in the shower. The constant buzz of the running water quickly lulled you to sleep, your mind and body completely exhausted from the day’s events. This one time you couldn't wait up for him. You were practically a walking zombie when you landed on your side of the bed.

Even when your husband joined you in bed, rushing to scoop you up in his arms so he could envelope himself around you like a koala to his eucalyptus tree. He sighed in content but he knew he would have a talk with you in the morning.

It was only by Saturday when you actually talked. Baekhyun didn't want to wake you after being woken up on Friday early in the morning to feed, and then you slept yet again when he was about to leave for work. Your quietness was very unusual to him.

He made sure to bring the monitor to his side and tried to sleep as lightly as possible so that if the munchkins were up, he'd be there first. The bags under your eyes, and your eyes themselves not having the typical spark made him very worried. You needed to rest and he would try his best to let you.

Currently, he was having a good chat with the triplets, even though one was already crying - Junhee, of course - because he was trying to feed Juna who started the ruckus first. Thankfully, he closed the door to the babies' room, so he didn't have to worry about their wailing waking you up.

But boy, was it difficult to satisfy them. He opted to heat up another bottle of milk and he was now balancing them in both hands, trying to safely feed both of the hungry mouths. Baekhyun prayed Jun wouldn't follow his sisters' lead as he observed him for a moment before focusing back on his daughters.

“Are you always giving this much of a hard time to mummy whenever I'm not here?” he murmured but an affectionate smile stretched his lips. Juna and Junhee were adorable as he was staring down at them, their eyes wide open while looking at their father. Their cheeks were pinkish and puffy, their soft hair a little messy and pressed in funny ways from sleeping which made Baekhyun's heart swell with love. Whenever their small fingers tapped on his long fingers, he would try to caress their hands with it.

“After this, it's nappy-change time,” he told them seriously. “No exceptions, okay?”

Juna was gulping down like crazy, and whenever she swallowed hard, she exhaled loudly and Baekhyun eventually chuckled. “You are definitely daddy's little girl. Daddy also eats too fast but watch out - don't want your tummy to hurt, hm, little Juna?”

When he was sure that both babies were well-fed, he threw a small glance at Jun who was still too peaceful. He wasn't asking for food and neither was he asking for attention. “Junnie, what's wrong?” he asked quietly, worry laced in his voice, and lifted him out of his crib. “Why are you so quiet? You don't want some yummy milk?” He brought the bottle up to his face, pressing the pacifier to the top of his lips. Jun was only bulging his eyes at his father, as if unsure what to do with the bottle. “You don't want a sip?”

Jun averted his gaze, observing everything around him in quietness. He was moving around in Baekhyun's arms, most probably meaning he was a little restless, so Baekhyun put him back down into the crib, hoping he would make a scene, but Jun only looked at the small toys that he had hovering above him. To make it more interesting for him, Baekhyun pushed a few of them, letting them dingle gently and taking Jun's attention.

Baekhyun sighed, unsure. While the babies were still in their peaceful mode after changing their nappies, he left them and went straight back to the kitchen to wash up the bottles and prepare some breakfast for the both of you, wanting to surprise you with breakfast in bed.

Of course, he underestimated the whole situation. It was now way past 8am and you were up, and rubbing your eyes at the bar table separating the kitchen from the open living room. “Honey, why didn't you wake me?” you asked, your voice still heavily laced with sleep.

Baekhyun turned his head to the left as he was washing the tomatoes. “Sweetheart, go back to bed. I'll bring the food to the bedroom,” he told you and turned the water off.

Not listening, you tapped over to him, observing and trying to decode his recipe, but Baekhyun put down the vegetables, turned to you and held you by your upper arms. “You. Bed. Now.”

“I'm fine, honey,” you insisted tiredly. “Let me just help you out- oh, and what about the triplets?”

“I took care of them,” he said somewhat proudly, happy that it was finally him attending to them while you could keep on sleeping.

You sighed. “You should be resting. You work a lot during the week-”

“And you cannot escape your work at all,” cut in Baekhyun, frowning. “I'm not going to ask you what has been bothering you the past couple of days, but let me at least help out like this.”

Instantly, you felt guilty. You were so tired you managed to forget your heavy emotions in your deep slumber. They all came back to you, taking a good, comfortable seat in the depths of your chest, no signs of leaving whatsoever. Not until you resolved them at least.

“I don't want to lie down,” you still protested and Baekhyun observed you for a moment, trying to see through you. Without another word, you stepped closer and hugged him, your arms stretching so you could connect your hands on his wide back. He didn't hesitate, and brought you to him, pecking the top of your head.

“What's the matter, hm,” he hummed softly into your ear. “You haven't been yourself.”

“I messed up,” you murmured into his chest and when he wanted to pull away, you squeezed him tighter, making him groan in mock hurt. “No, just stay like this a little longer.”

He brought up his hand to your head and gently caressed your hair. “How did you mess up?”

You took a deep breath. “I am a bad mother, Baekhyun. I can't do this.”

“No, sweetheart, that's nonsense and you know it, too,” he said, this time really trying to pry your arms away from him but you wouldn't budge, persisting on holding onto him. He tried again, but gave up when you shimmied yourself closer, causing him to step backwards. He sighed affectionately, his hand going back up to caress you.

“Jun got sick while I was working out and well… yeah, that happened. So I had to come home earlier on Thursday.”

Baekhyun tensed slightly at your words, but was fast to ease up. His son was alright now. There was no need to overreact. “Did Sukyeong bring you home then?” he asked, trying to sound unbothered.

It was your turn to tense up now. Baekhyun felt it, but did not comment, instead waited patiently for your answer. “The trainer brought me home,” you mumbled and he desperately wanted to see your face, but you were still glued to his chest. “But don't worry. I'm not going to work out anymore. Not until the munchkins are bigger at least.”

“Let me look at you, princess,” Baekhyn requested, tapping your butt gently. “C'mon, don't hide.”

You squeezed him one last time before slowly disattaching yourself, your big, sad eyes looking up at him while your lower lip was trapped under your teeth. “I'm sorry for disappointing you.”

He gave you a gentle smile as he cupped your face, breathing a kiss on your forehead. “Is this what's been bothering you?” You nodded, still bulging your eyes at him. “I'm such a jerk,” he sighed eventually, “it should have been me who brings you home on Thursday. Instead I came home super late and had you deal with everything by yourself.”

You started to shake your head violently. “No, Baekhyun, no, this isn't your fault.”

“Did the trainer come up here?” he shot quickly, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

You shrugged. “He helped me bring the triplets up. So he had to come in.” You went on to explain to him what actually happened that day, keeping Baekhyun's eager eye contact the whole time. “I forgot to tell them,” you admitted, devastated. “I'm so frigging irresponsible.”

“That's why you had Junnie with you when I came back?” he asked quietly, brushing your hair behind your ear.

You nodded, pressing your lips together in anxiety.

Baekhyun sighed. “Let's take him to the doctor's, hm?” he suggested and when he saw you nod again, he brought you back into a bear hug, your arms immediately sneaking around him. “And then you, little lady, will go to the doctor's about your breast milk, got it?” he asked, more seriously. He still didn't let the topic go but since you were both dealing with the problems now, he wanted to bring it up. “You're leaking too much and it's causing you discomfort. I don't care if you don't want help, but you need to see the doctor to make sure everything is in normal with your body.”

You pouted up at him and he chuckled softly, caressing your cheek. “Okay, you're right,” you eventually gave in and Baekhyun's smile grew even more, very much satisfied with your answer.

“That's my baby girl,” he breathed, pecking you on the lips.

“Sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“You needed time to process, there is no need to apologize for that. It's my fault for letting my colleagues drag me when I knew I had responsibilities.”

Once again you cuddled yourself to him, and Baekhyun laughed again, humming in satisfaction when he had you like this. It was only until there was a knock on the entrance door, with it the doorbell ringing through the quiet apartment. If that wasn't enough to surprise you, the babies' reaction to the doorbell wasn't good, either, for at least two babies woke up right away, their whimpers coming in through the monitor.

You separated, moving to tend to the babies while Baekhyun went for the door. You were shushing Junhee, the forever crybaby, only calming down when she was finally in your grasp. Too curious as to who was the unexpected guest, you went to the room's door, peeking over the door frame just to completely freeze.

Baekhyun was facing Lee Junho, your trainer.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

A/N: Did you figure out the usage of "<3 and </3" ??? Huhu ^^

#exowritersnet #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fic #exo fluff #exo smut #exo angst #AY #mywritings

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prouvaireafterdark · 4 years ago

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Wrong Place, Right Time

For the @malexremix, I remixed @insidious-intent’s excellent frat bro Michael fic! Fair warning, though: it’s rule 63

Also on AO3!

***

Fuck this fucking planet, Guerin thinks as she shivers in the icy December chill, leaning heavily against the cold metal of the bus stop shelter. The minutes drag by slow as molasses as she waits for the shuttle that was supposed to take her home almost half an hour ago.

Ugh. This is the goddamn last time she tries to do the responsible thing and doesn’t take her truck when she’s heading to the bar. Now, with her patience and her alcohol blanket wearing thin, she’s never been more disappointed that her alien powers don’t include flight or teleportation.

With a beleaguered sigh, she takes her phone out of her pocket and pulls up the bus schedule. The tips of her fingers grow numb with the cold as she waits for the piece of shit app to load, and when it finally does she’s met with a red banner that reads, Late night buses cancelled due to icy conditions.

“God fucking damn it,” she groans, throwing her head backward in frustration so forcefully that her skull smacks against the hard metal bus shelter. “Ow, fuck,” she winces, the pain flaring up instantly. She reaches up to rub the tender spot with her cold fingertips, wishing she had a bottle of acetone at her disposal.

It’s the thought of acetone that reminds her of Isobel and, more importantly, Isobel’s car, which is undoubtedly sitting in the lot outside her sorority house not too far from here. She’ll mock her mercilessly for it, but she probably won’t say no to letting Guerin borrow it if she promises to buy her bubble tea when she brings it back.

Without a better idea, Guerin pushes off the bus shelter and starts walking, head downcast as her numb fingers type out a text to Isobel.

She heads a few blocks down Sorority Row, eyes scanning the houses for those familiar Greek letters. When she finally spots them, she recognizes Isobel’s handiwork immediately in the tasteful Christmas decorations adorning the house’s brightly lit facade. Garlands encircle the tall white columns that line the porch and each and every window is framed with pale yellow lights, a festive wreath in its center.

She also notices, much to her chagrin, that there appears to be some kind of party going on inside. Muffled music seeps through the walls and she can see people mingling inside through the large windows in the front of the house.

Guerin checks her phone one last time, but Isobel’s read receipts tell her she hasn’t even seen the message yet. Looks like she’s going to have to go inside and find her.

She looks down at her jeans and fleece-lined jacket, both threadbare and thrifted, and briefly considers some light carjacking, but in the end, she decides against it—as annoyed as Isobel will be with her for showing up to a party at her sorority dressed like this, it’ll be much worse if she wakes up to find her car missing.

Sighing deeply, Guerin turns down the red brick path to the porch and makes her way to the front door.

One fist is poised to knock, the other buried deep in the pocket of her jacket, when an unexpected voice comes from her left.

“You lost?” the voice says.

Guerin’s curls whip through the air as she turns to see Alex Manes, the very talented, very hot musician who sometimes plays at the undergrad cafe Guerin works at on the weekend, sitting in one of the rocking chairs on the porch. How she missed her sitting there is anyone’s guess, but now that she has the opportunity to look at her she isn’t going to waste it.

In the glow of the Christmas lights, she can see Alex is wearing heavy black combat boots and the tightest skinny jeans she’s ever seen with a thick knit maroon cardigan drawn closed across her chest. Her dark eyes are lined in black, as always, and in her lap is a battered moleskin notebook with a pencil caught between its pages.

“Nope,” Guerin answers, smiling as she turns more fully in Alex’s direction and takes a step closer. “I’m looking for Isobel.”

“Really?” Alex asks, head cocked to the side in confusion. “Why?”

It’s a fair question, Guerin supposes. Isobel doesn’t exactly broadcast that their campus’ resident bisexual stoner is also kind of her sister.

“The buses stopped running apparently so I need to borrow her car,” Guerin explains.

Alex barks a laugh, a bright sound that makes the pit of Guerin’s stomach warm in spite of her. “Good luck with that.”

Guerin smiles good naturedly, but doesn’t head back to the door just yet. As cold as it is, she’d rather see if she can make Alex laugh again.

“I’m Guerin, by the way,” she introduces herself as she sits down in one of the rocking chairs next to her.

“Alex,” she says unnecessarily. “And I know who you are,” she continues, the corner of her mouth pulling up into a smile. “You work at Bean Me Up, right?”

“I do,” Guerin says, face brightening. They smile at each other for a moment, neither one really sure where to pick up the thread of conversation before Guerin asks, “So, what are you doing out here by yourself?”

“Oh, uh, wine mixers aren’t really my thing,” Alex answers, gesturing over her shoulder to the party inside.

“A sorority girl who doesn’t want to party?” Guerin asks, equal parts amused and confused. “I think you maybe joined the wrong crowd.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Alex sighs.

That brings Guerin up short. Sure, she’d been surprised to hear that Alex was in Isobel’s sorority—her emo aesthetic doesn’t exactly match the sorority girl stereotype that lives in Guerin’s brain—but she figured she at least enjoyed being a part of it.

“Do you really not like it here?” she asks.

Alex shrugs noncommittally.

Guerin frowns. “Why not leave then?”

Alex is quiet so long Guerin wonders if she’s crossed a line, but eventually she gets an answer.

“My mom’s a legacy and kind of an asshole, so,” she says, as if that explains everything, and then adds, “If joining Greek Life is what it takes for her to keep paying my tuition, I guess this is where I’ll be.”

That is something Guerin can understand. If her scholarship relied on participation in Greek Life, she sure as hell would’ve pledged too.

“Mm, gotcha,” she says with an understanding nod. “That sucks, though. I mean, we’re in college, right? Isn’t now the time we’re supposed to spend doing whatever we want?”

Alex raises her glass—a pink solo cup that’s been resting on the small table next to her—in agreement.

Silence stretches between them for a long few seconds. She should probably head inside to find Isobel now, but Alex is beautiful and talking to her and she just can’t quite bring herself to walk away.

“So, are you working on a new song?” she asks eventually, looking down at the notebook in Alex’s lap.

“Trying to,” Alex admits, her cheeks flushing just a little.

“What’s it about?”

Alex bites her lip for a second before she answers.

They talk about the song, and music in general, for so long that Guerin forgets about Isobel entirely. It isn’t until Alex brings her up that she remembers.

“Oh, shit, don’t you need to find Isobel?” Alex asks, breaking off in the middle of her story about the My Chemical Romance concert she went to when she was thirteen.

“It can wait,” Guerin shrugs.

“In that case, you want a drink or something?” she offers, looking over her shoulder and through the window into the house.

Guerin thinks about it before she answers, “Wine mixers aren’t really my thing either, but I wouldn’t say no if you’ve got something stronger.”

Alex gives her a considering look before she says, “Alright then,” getting up from her chair. “Follow me.”

As she heads for the front door, Guerin follows close behind.

She’s a little surprised to be led straight up the stairs to Alex’s bedroom, but she isn’t about to complain about it.

“You can take your jacket off and sit on my bed if you want,” Alex says as she lets her inside.

Guerin unzips her jacket and lays it over the back of the chair by Alex’s desk before she kicks off her boots and climbs onto her bed. She sits with her back against the wall, legs crossed at the ankles as she watches Alex rifle through the top drawer of her nightstand.

She comes back a minute later holding a clear plastic baggie with a rolled joint and a shitty bic lighter inside. She tosses it on the bed beside Guerin’s thigh.

Guerin has it out of the bag before Alex can get her boots off and climb onto the bed, but she waits until she’s sitting next to her, too close to be an accident, to light it.

With one end between Alex’s lips, Guerin lights the other. She watches Alex take a long drag off the joint, watches the smoke curl around her mouth as she exhales. Her lips look so soft and pink and—Jesus fucking Christ, Guerin has never wanted to kiss someone so badly in her life.

It must show on her face because after a calculating look Alex takes another drag and holds the smoke in her lungs as she leans in close enough to kiss her. Guerin gets the picture and follows suit, her eyes slipping closed, lips parted and waiting.

She inhales as Alex gently blows the smoke into her open mouth, their lips touching for a brief and charged moment. She holds it in her lungs for a minute before releasing it into the air between them. When her eyes flutter open, she’s as pleased as she is unsurprised to see Alex staring blatantly at her mouth.

Without letting her eyes drift, Guerin takes the joint from Alex’s fingers and brings it to her mouth, sucking the smoke into her lungs once more. When she leans in to return the favor, she can’t resist flicking out her tongue to taste her bottom lip.

Alex moans softly against her mouth, the sweetest sound she’s ever heard, and the next thing she knows Alex is climbing in her lap.

Guerin lets out a shuddering breath against her mouth, the warmth of Alex’s thighs around her waist as intoxicating as the smoke burning her lungs and the lust rushing through her veins. It’s by a stroke of luck more than anything else that she doesn’t drop the joint onto Alex’s comforter and set her fucking bed on fire in her haste to get her hands on her hips.

Gentle fingers reach for Guerin’s hand then, taking the joint back from between her fingers.

“What are you doing?” Guerin asks against her lips as Alex settles her weight on top of her.

She feels it when Alex smiles against her mouth.

“Whatever I want,” she answers cheekily.

“Fair enough,” Guerin smiles back, and as she leans in to press their lips together for real this time, she can’t help but think that maybe leaving her truck at home wasn’t the worst idea she’s ever had after all.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #rnm fic #malex remix #ahhhhhhhh #idk what this is but i hope you guys like it lol

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idorkish · 4 years ago

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Piotr “Colossus” Rasputin SFW Alphabet

The SFW Alphabet is from @snk-warriors

A/n: There are no tags because I haven’t started a Marvel tag list really. Check out the pinned post on my page for my Masterlist and to sign up for my tag list! OR just send me a message.

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

In the rare free time that Piotr has, he is in the art room either painting or drawing. If his s/o is available, they are either in the same space working on their own things and enjoying the rare moments of silence. OR, they’re out and about! Want to go to the museum? Let’s go! Aquarium? Mall? Sure, why not. Piotr is willing to power down and just be content in human skin while walking around with his s/o. It’s also a rare time for him to indulge in a bit of bad eating with his s/o.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

How much time do you have? Piotr is in love with every aspect of his s/o. From the top of their head to the tip of their toes. But it goes so much deeper than that. He loves how his s/o’s face scrunches when they’re concentrating on something. And how their try to hold back their laughs and snort instead. He loves that his s/o is by his side, for better or worse. Their entire essence and radiance is so beautiful that Piotr does find is hard to articulate what is beautiful about his s/o/

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Panic attacks, depression, anger, PTSD. Being a teacher at the institute and an X-Men, there is not much he’s not prepared to help with. If he knows that his s/o suffers from these ailments early on, he will ask how they would want him to best help them. Does he need to hold your hand and remind you to breathe? Do you need him in the room but not touch you? How about space - do you just need to be alone in a space for a bit of time? Let him know what the best way to help you is and he will do it. If this is your first panic attack though, well, he is known to be a mother hen for a reason. He will be right there, knelt next to his s/o, a gentle hand on your thigh as he guides you through some breathing exercises and have you tell him 5 things to ground you - 5 things you see, 4 things you can touch or feel, 3 things you hear, 2 things you can smell, and 1 thing you can taste.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Oh our sweet dreamer! Piotr wants the stereotypical dream life. A spouse who loves him, a house with a white picket fence. A couple of young ones running around, maybe a dog or two to keep the kids active. If that’s not what his S/o wants though, he’s ok with that. Talk to the big guy, communicate what you want! He will find a way to make it work.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Piotr is pretty passive. He is easy-going and always wanting to please. There are aspects that he takes the lead on - mostly when it comes to his s/o’s health and well being. No, he will not allow you to eat nothing but junk food. Yes, you will have balanced meals. Do you take medicine? Well you can’t find him on it, you’re taking it at the exact determined time, every day. Oh you have a doctor’s appointment you don’t want to go to? Well you will get the disappointed speech and look from him, AND he will throw you over his shoulder and take you.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Piotr fights enough with the X-Men. He does not like fighting with his s/o. On the rare occasions there is an argument about something important, he is STUBBORN. He will not back down. If voices eventually get raised, he’s walking away before he says something stupid and unforgiveable. Depending on the severity, he’s sleeping in the guest or art room to cool down. Once BOTH of you are calmed down, he wants to talk about what happened and how to make sure it doesn’t get to that point again. He doesn’t want to fight with the love of his life, nor does he want to make them sad or hurt.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Piotr is grateful for everything in life. For the chance to leave Russia. The chance to teach young mutants and to be an X-Men. And most of all? That he had the chance to meet his s/o. He is very much grateful for all the little things they do for him. It’s the small things like making sure his favorite tea is stocked in the kitchen, that his alarm is set in case he passes out right away, and most of all, how they are willing to just sit in the same room with him, quietly, while he decompresses.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

This man? Secrets with his s/o? Not really. He tries to keep quiet when he’s hurt from missions. Or when Charles has given him information not to share with anyone yet. That’s about it. Otherwise, he’s open with his s/o and expects similar.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helping them overcome personal problems?

Piotr has always been a gentle giant, however no matter how much he’s come to terms with his mutation, he still worries that he scares people or that he’s limited in what he can do. His s/o would help him realize he can still do everything that others can, he just needs to take more care in how he approaches.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Piotr is very secure in his relationship and rarely, if ever, gets jealous. He trusts you 100%, so why would he ever get jealous? But when he does get jealous, oh boy. Be ready for a pouty and cold Piotr. He will shrug it off and walk out of the room. He will likely ignore his s/o and become slightly passive aggressive and petty. For someone who does so well with communication, this is the one time that he holds it all in and is unsure of how to express himself. Give him some time, then go and give him extra cuddles and kisses to bring back your gentle-giant.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Sweet. Slow. Sensual. Soft. Rough. Demanding. Desperate. His kisses run the gauntlet depending on his mood. The first kiss with his s/o was slow and timid. He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, so he took his time. Cupping his s/o’s jaw gently, his thumb smoothing across their cheek. Piotr’s other arm was wrapped around his s/o’s waist, holding them gently but close to his own body. Piotr leaned down and ghosted his lips over theirs before applying the slightest bit of pressure.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

It took a long time, and a lot of help from the other X-Men, for Piotr to finally express his feelings. It honestly was his S/O to make the first move and ask him out, but it is Piotr who is the first to drop the L-bomb on them. They were walking around the grounds of the manor after dinner, exchanging stories of the past week when Piotr stopped and pulled his s/o against him, wrapping his arms around their waist and just holding them. He pressed the softest-feather-like kiss to their forehead

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Piotr has thought about marriage since he was a little boy. When he meets his s/o and their relationship progresses, those thoughts come back. He wants to marry his s/o one day, but knows it is best to hold out until both are ready. He will openly talk about it with his s/o to figure out if it is something they want. If they do? Awesome! Even though he won’t propose just yet, he wants to figure out his s/o’s ideas for both marriage and proposal. If they don’t want to get married? Well, he’s going to be hurt a bit. Piotr will become a little insecure about why his S/o wouldn’t want to marry him, but that is where his great communication skills come in handy.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

“lyubov moya” (my love), “zaika/zaichik” (bunny), “malysh” (baby), “lapochka” (sweetie pie), “zvezda moya” (my star)

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

IT is SOOOOOOOOOOO obvious to everyone when Piotr is in love. He is full of heart eyes and heavenly sighs when thinking of his s/o. He expresses his feelings verbally to and about his s/o.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He is 100% up front about his relationship. Why shouldn’t he be? He loves to hold his s/o’s hand as much as possible and likes to keep an arm around their shoulder or waist when in the company of friends. He’s not afraid to press soft kisses to his S/o’s when around students and/or friends. But that’s about it.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Piotr’s s/o is able to make him relax when it comes to some rules - mostly sleeping in, and indulging in junk food.

On the other hand, Piotr brings down the chaos in his S/O’s life.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Piotr is the epitome of romance - flowers, bubble baths, and potentially, a night out. He takes into consideration what his s/o likes and incorporates that into their dates and daily time together.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

There is no one better at supporting their S/o when it comes to goals, then Piotr. He is the best accountability buddy! If the goal is to work out and eat healthy, then Piotr is there helping come up with a meal plan and find exercise that they will enjoy. If the goal is to explore their creative side, then Piotr is taking them to the store to get what they want/need and clearing out a space in the art studio just for his s/o.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

The king of routine honestly. There are things that Piotr does that help him and his S/o keep sane. Consistency does not mean boring when it comes to Piotr though. Also, this doesn’t mean that there isn't’t some spontaneity. When his S/o wears a certain outfit, his brain turns to mush and he can’t keep his hands off of them. Was there a bad mission? Well, things change for a while because of that.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Piotr and his s/o have been together long enough, and talked enough that they know each other really well. Piotr is extremely empathetic, it’s just his nature. Although they know each other so well, it doesn’t mean they don’t surprise the other once in a while.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it worth in comparison to other things in their life?

He might not fully leave the X-Men, and he definitely will NOT leave the school, but if things are getting in the way of his relationship, Piotr is willing to step back for a while. Anything else, he will talk with his s/o to determine the issue and see if it is something he needs to be rid of from his life.

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

When Piotr finally gives in to his S/o’s request to just relax, oh boy watch out. He ends up sleeping in until almost noon. It freaks everyone out in the mansion when they don’t see him at breakfast, nor around the grounds. When he finally awakes and makes his way for food, he’s powered down and in cargo shorts and a hoodie. The students hanging around stare at him like he’s grown another head. Piotr just smiles and waves to them on his way to get food. Once fed, Piotr seeks out his s/o. He finds them lounging on one of the couches, hanging out with their friends and watching a movie. So Piotr nudges his s/o to sit up so he can curl on the couch with his head on their lap, and moves their hand to his hair. And that’s where he spends the rest of the day until dinner.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Piotr is an affectionate man. He will give small kisses and hugs when he sees his s/o between classes or when on the grounds, and he’s not against wrapping his arms around them. It’s not often that he cuddles up to his s/o in front of others. When in the privacy of his or their own room? Piotr is the ultimate cuddle-bug. He powers down to his human forms and loves to lay his head on his s/o’s stomach or lap and have them run their fingers through his hair while his nuzzles against them.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Depending on why he is not around his s/o, Piotr can be a bit pouty. If he’s off on a mission, he keeps his mind at the task on hand. Otherwise, it can lead to mistakes that he’s not willing to take. If his s/o is out on a mission, he is keeping himself busy with work around the mansion and classes. If his s/o is just away or busy doing something, Piotr tries to keep busy. He really, really tries, but he will eventually seek them out if they’re nearby. He doesn’t always need to be touching his s/o but he likes to be in their presence.

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Anything he sets his mind to, Piotr gives it his all. This relationship is no different. He has his responsibilities and there is no getting around that but he will fight for his relationship. There is very little that will make him hesitate to work on the relationship. Is his s/o feeling lonely and ignored? Well, Piotr is going to Charles to ask for the weekend off so he can shower his s/o with love and affection. Is his s/o struggling with insecurities and trying to push him away? Oh no sweetie. Piotr can be immovable. He will stand his ground and get his s/o to talk to him. He is not easily scared away.

#sfw alphabet #colussus #Piotr Rasputin #marvel x-men #x-men #marvel headcannons #xmen headcanon

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pink-imagines · 4 years ago

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the necklace

request: could you write something about hawks having to leave the reader because his work was putting them in danger. i'm in the mood for angst, i'm sorry!! 😣

a/n: hope this was enough angst for you!! i really need to make this into a series cuz i have the perfect idea for it!!!!!

warnings: angst, kidnapping, break up

masterlist

requesting rules

When Keigo said that his line of work could get dangerous you never thought much of it. You knew in your heart that even if something did happen it wouldn’t be hard for Keigo to come an save you. You couldn’t even see yourself in such a dangerous situation, surely it wouldn’t happen. Of course you were wrong, it was just your luck.

A simple wednesday afternoon turned into the most horrible experience of your life. You were just walking home from getting groceries, seeing as Keigo was finally coming home after a long mission you wanted to make him something special. It was getting dark, so you didn’t see much, and your headphones were playing loud music, so you couldn’t hear much either. How could you sense that someone was sneaking up on you? As soon as you turned a corner they ambushed you and sedated you to stop you from drawing attention to them by screaming.

Keigo had gotten home early and waited for you on the couch and when you hadn’t come home for a while he started getting worried. The fact that you weren’t answering your phone only worried him even more. When your caller ID popped up on his screen he was skeptical at first, but still answered. “We got your partner, Hawks.”, a taunting voice answered, “If I were you I’d hurry up and get to the location we’re gonna send you if you want her to still be around.” “Keigo...”, he could hear you crying in the background. “How do I know this isn’t a trick?”, Keigo asked carefully. They hung up and wouldn’t answer him when he tried calling back. Eventually he was sent a video of you being tazed, followed by a location. Even if it was real or not, he couldn’t risk it. Your life was on the line afterall. Don’t tell anyone what you’re seeing, or it’ll only get worse for her. They sent as a final message.

You were thrown in some sort of cell, with you ankles chained so that you couldn’t walk very far. You could walk up to the bars that encased your only exit, but that was as far as you could go. The concrete cell was small but somehow felt immensely big, the only thing you could do was crawl up against a corner and hope for someone, Keigo, to come.

As soon as Keigo reached the premises he took up his phone and sent a text to his agency with his location and a warning that he might need back up.

You woke up to the sound of a fight, people groaning in pain and the sound of skin hitting skin. With a hand over your mouth you tried your best to keep quiet, you didn’t know if what was happening outside your cell was good or bad so you had to be on the safe side. Even so, a quiver escaped yourlips as you heard a body fall to the floor. “Y/N?”, it was Keigo’s voice. “Keigo?”, you whimpered and crawled over to the bars, using them to get to your feet, “Is that you?” “I’m here, don’t worry.”, he said softly as if he hadn’t just knocked about five guys unconcious, “I’ll get you out of there, okay? Just hold on.”

You couldn’t really remember the rest, but you hadn’t blacked out. Here and there you’d get a faint memory of running through a few corridors and seeing other heroes from Keigo’s enemy. Most of your memories were blurry and you can only clearly remember waking up at the hospital. You didn’t have any serious injuries but when you looked beside you to see Keigo, sitting on a chair with his head in his hands, it almost seemed like you were on the brink of death. “Keigo..?”, you managed to croak out. He looked up at you for only a second before standing up and walking to the door, but it only took a second to see the tears in his eyes. “I’ll go get you some water.”, he muttered before leaving you alone in the room. You listened as his steps grew more distant and so did his bond with you. This wasn’t something that either of you could recover from. Even though both of you knew that it wasn’t the other persons fault, that didn’t stop you from losing hope in the normal relationship you’d dreamed of together. Keigo came back only minutes later with a bottle of water for you, which you took and let out a quiet “thank you”. “I’ll get my stuff out of your apartment as soon as I can.”, he said bluntly, the emotion that he showed before was now completely gone. “What are you trying to say?”, you looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows. “If I’m putting you in danger by being with you then I have to take responsibility and distance myself. I can’t let something like this happen again.”, he explained, “So it’s better if we go seperate ways...” “But it wasn’t your fault! I was being careless and didn’t pay attention!”, you tried to explain but Keigo had already put up an emotional wall between you. “It doesn’t matter if you were careless. If you had been careless without me being here then this still wouldn’t have happened.”, he raised his voice, “I’m putting you in danger by just loving you!” You felt a tear roll down your cheek and on instinct Keigo tried to reach out and gently wipe it away, but he stopped himself. “Fine.”, you sighed and tried to keep your composure, “Go get your stuff... but let me have my last goodbye when I’m not in the hospital, please.” Keigo nodded before hesitantly walking out of the room.

It didn’t take long before you got out of the hospital and just a few days later Keigo showed up to get his stuff, which you had already packed up in boxes. It wasn’t much, seeing as he didn’t have much, but it felt like it took forever to remove every single trace of him in your apartment. “Thanks for packing up my stuff...”, he muttered as he took one of the boxes in his arms. “... no problem.”, you nodded and went back to sitting on the couch. You tried not to pay attention to him while he was carrying all the boxes down the apartment complex one by one, but that’d be impossible to do. TV was a good distraction, but it didn’t always work- especially not when he said your name. “Hey, Y/N.”, he said which made you turn around. “Yeah?” “Keep this.”, he held out his hand, closed into a fist, and expected you to hold out your hand flat under his. You held out your palm and let him drop a golden necklace onto it. It was a necklace that he usually wore, that meant a lot to him, and it had tiny, golden, wings hanging from the chain. “Why?”, you looked up at him as tears started to speck your eyes, “Don’t you understand that I’ll never be able to stop thinking about you if I keep this? I cleaned out the entire apartment just so that I don’t have to see something that reminds me of you. Why would you give this to me?” “Just let me have one last reason to come see you.”, he uttered huskily, “When I feel like the time is right... I just want one last chance to see you, please.” In a storm of sudden anger you tightly gripped the necklace in a fist and then threw it to the side, not caring where it landed and not caring about the fact that Keigo flinched when you did so. “You’re the one leaving me!”, you shouted, “This was your decision and now you want a way out?! If you’re leaving, then you’re leaving! You don’t get a second chance, not after this!” Yes, it was harsch but they were your true feelings. Maybe you could’ve uttered them in a better way, but everything surrounding you was just too much. “Goodbye then...”, you muttered. “... bye.”, he answered and took the last box with him. The necklace was forgotten on the floor, underneath your favorite armchair, as you curled up in the corner of the couch and cried.

Months went by and you barely left the apartment, only for groceries and sometimes your friends would even help you with that. From time to time one of your friends would stay over, since the fear of being kidnapped still crept up on your spine. It was hard being alone when you used to always have someone sleeping next to you. After a few months of this behaviour your friends got you out of your apartment, sick of your sulking. They understood that you needed time, but you also needed to learn to have fun again before you forgot completely. At first it was simple things; going to a café, taking a walk in a park or sometimes go to a bar. After almost a year they started setting you up on blind dates. They were nice people, but none of them caught your eye. But the point wasn’t for you to find a new lover, it was for you to be able to function normally again. The day came when you had finally finished your studies, university was now behind you and you didn’t have to work a million jobs to pay off your tuition. So you decided that an entire make over was due. You moved around the furniture in your apartment, sorted out your closet and took out the things that you didn’t want or never wore anymore. While you were vacuuming you heard something going up the pipe that definitely shouldn’t have. You had been looking for your lost ring recently and, thinking it was the ring, you opened the vacuum and took out the bag. Even if you really didn’t want to, you opened up the bag and looked through it and something golden caught your eye. You pulled out Keigo’s golden necklace by the pair of wings hanging from the chain. It must’ve been thrown around the other times you were cleaning, since it wasn’t under your armchair anymore. A part of you wanted to throw it back in the bag and never think of it again. The other part of you took over, held it in your hands, and tightly hugged it against your chest. Of course you still missed him, the best years of your life were spent with him, how could you not? With a bit of hesitation you walked to the nearest mirror and carefully put it on. It was the easiest way to make sure you had it with you, in case you met him. Once you gave it to him, this could be over but you weren’t ready to say goodbye just yet. You knew that this would have to be a long journey.

if you want to see this as a series then please let me know!!

#hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #hawks #bnha hawks #keigo x reader #keigo tamaki #keigo takami x reader #keigo #keigo tamaki x reader #bnha tamaki #tamaki keigo #bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha fic #mha imagines #mha

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a-mended-pact · 3 years ago

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Unsteady Keys: Chapter 6

Authors notes: This chapter is really short. I wasn't overly sure if this was a good stopping point or not for it. I also will not be posting the next couple of chapters for sometime. My messages and asks are always open.

Word count: 2,192

Part 5 Part 7

Warnings: I can't think of any for this exact chapter. If there is any please inform me.

Requests are open

I think her vision finally cleared because with the way her eyes flickered between Ethan and I. I knew one of us was in for a rude awakening and I certainly knew it wasn't me.

She moved before I could stop her and I winced at the impact of her palm to his face. The sound of it echoed off the walls in the seemingly abandoned office. My wife wasn't thinking like a federal agent and how that just crossed too many lines. She was thinking as herself and that probably wasn't a good thing.

'He trusted you! He invited you to our wedding and you were involved in kidnapping him!?! I can't believe this! You bastard! Why are you not in a holding cell?! Better yet, why are you not in an interrogation room!?' She was vibrating in my grasp as her voice got louder and louder. She was no longer filled with the overwhelming emotions she was dealing with earlier; she's now just one big bundle of rage.

I should be trying to stop her. I really should but it was so rare when she let her emotions get the better of her that I didn't wanna stop her. I was sorta enjoying it. That is until she turned to me and glared.

She shook with anger as she looked at me. Like a small puppy trying to hold in a bark. The longer she stared the more she shaked. She was trying to control herself. One of her rules that she made of her own choice was that she'd never yell at me. I told her how preposterous that was. Sometimes I deserve to get yelled at.

The rule was made due to past trauma of hers that definitely doesn't need to be brought up or discussed in front of Ethan. He didn't need anymore ammo to use against us. I'm not sure that he would but I couldn't take any chances. Not anymore then I already have anyway.

I had enough time to catch Ethan's gaze before I watched my wife storm out of Morgan's old office.

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

I paced around the bullpen until Tara told me if I didn't stop I was gonna leave a tread mark in the carpet. I couldn't help but laugh. I sounded exhausted. I felt dead on my feet but I couldn't close my eyes. I knew that if I did all I would see was Spencer being hurt and tortured. Me being right there only to have him look at me like I meant nothing to him. Like I was nothing. Maybe I was but right now wasn't the time to dwell on that thought.

I looked at her and then at the board of all the victims. 'Do you think it's possible that what Reid said is true? That Ethan didn't have a choice? That Ethan isn't fully in on it? They were kidnapping and killing victims that look like me for Christ sake.' I turned away from the board and through my hands up in frustration before I let them fall to my sides. 'Is Lindsey Vaughn even in on this? We have an eye witness identifying Ethan and here he is walking about as a free man. All because he has Genius in there believing he is innocent!' I could feel my aggravation getting the better of me again.

My palm still stung from the slap I gave him earlier. I knew it wasn't protocol but I didn't care. He deserved it. All I wanted to do was scream. It wasn't fair. God I needed to sleep. I glanced at the analog clock on the wall. I've officially been up for 4 days now. Which honestly wasn't anything overly new. If I didn't take my medication regularly even without everything going in sleep would still eluded me. Insomnia is definitely a cunt. My mind never knew how to shut off. Playing records of things I didn't want to see or hear. It had been 4 days since a proper meal. I began to wonder when someone would notice and tell Emily to send me home.

A part of me hoped someone did another part just wanted to close this case and arrest all those involved. I was sick of Cat always having the upper hand on us in this case. I ran my hands over my face and sighed. I think it's time for a wake up call for our sleeping kitten.

____________________

When I came into view of Cat Adam's I saw that Spencer was already in there grilling her about what she'd done to Ethan. Asking if Lindsey was the true unsub all along. He was making assumptions completely based off the fact that he knew Ethan. I understood truly I did but he was being biased he can't seriously excuse that his college friend was a kidnapper. Whether being manipulated and played like a puppet on strings he was still a kidnapper and the victims deserved proper justice.

'So you're telling me that you're not the one behind this really Cathrine? I doubt that. I really do. He has photos of me in Mexico. Drugged laying next to Nadie Ramos dead! Don't tell me you had nothing to do with this and it was all just Lindsey!' His voice was nearly ruptured the speaker when I turned it on. He was so loud. He was so angry that I myself flinched. I don't see how she could just sit there looking at him unfazed as if this was normal for him.

I watched as she leaned forward making herself look like a viper ready to strike.

'Spencie If I knew Ethan being evolved would have you so worked up I would have done it sooner.' She smiled at him. 'I however did not plan on you being taken. You being apart of it like that wasn't part of the plan.' She leaned her head on her hand. That's when I realized he had taken off her restraints. What was he doing?

'My only goal was to make you squirm in discomfort as your precious wife went missing. With the chance of her being another victim on the side of the road. Ya know I don't go for the throat Baby boy. I go for the mind.' She laughed as she swiped his hair out of his face. He let her.

----------

I was furious with everything that had happened. Ethan being evolved I almost through me off the edge. Then her saying that the goal was for it to be Y/n and not me made me see red. I needed to remind myself that I needed to remain calm. If I didn't I wouldn't get anything out of her besides her lust filled obsession of me being angry with her.

To be honest I did think about playing into her desire for me. It would have been an easy choice. A simple one. I could have gotten away with it if it wasn't for the fact that my wife was already upset with me.

I didn't mean to do it but I did end up leaning into Cat's touch when she moved my hair out of my face. I was disgusted with myself. I was a better man than this. Yet here I was mesmerized by her eyes as they watched me with the curiosity of a wolf preying on sheep. Only I was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

How easy it would be to deduce Cat Adams into nothing but statistics and profiling. She wanted to have me squirm in misery but It would be so easy to have her broken and on her knees for me.

I pulled away immediately once I realized what I had done. 'You are threatening a federal agent not to mention you are an accomplice to what happened. Even if I wasn't the target. You still knew who took me and who else was involved and you still chose silence. '

A smirk formed on my face as I moved my chair closer to her. Pulling it around the metal table and on her side of it. I leaned in really close to her ear. To be fair I had no idea if anyone was watching or listening but I wasn't about to take anymore chances.

I gently moved her hair behind her ear as I leaned in closer to whisper. 'If anything would have happened to my wife or Ethan I would certainly be the one in an orange jumpsuit.' My hand slipped up to her throat not squeezing hard but with enough pressure to remind her of the time I had been this close to her last. 'I would watch the life drain from you and sleep well. I know how much you love when people see the resemblance between you and I.' My hand tightened before I slung it off her with such force she wobbled a little in her chair.

Cat watched me with her pupils dilated as she gently caressed the redding skin where my hand had been. 'If I didn't know any better Spencie I think you just like touching me.' The way she panted as she watched me made my skin crawl. I hated myself for thinking she was such an attractive specimen of a human being. Her mind intrigued me more than anyone I have ever met.

I wanted to pick apart her psyche. I wanted to know what made her tick. Besides her abandonment issues and lack of empathy because she was never shown any kindness a day in her life. Even if she was shown some form of kindness I'm sure she didn't know what to do with it. She probably shut herself down from it. Most likely abused by someone in her life. She was just like every other unsub so why did I crave her so much more.

I couldn't figure out my attraction to her after all these years. Sure she held a very natural beauty to her but she was nothing compare to Y/n who could strut around her hair a mess and stains on her clothes and still pull me in as if she were the gravity holding me to this earth.

I realized then one of my biggest mistakes of the last few days as my wife walked in leaning herself against the wall with her arms crossed. I could tell the moment I walked into the bureau that she hadn't been sleeping. I also knew from her mental state that she in fact hadn't been taking her medication.

I sighed more at myself than to her. 'Love you shouldn't be in here. If anything you should be at home resting and taking care of yourself.' I turned to lock eyes with her only she wasn't looking at me. She was looking at Cat Adams.

'You know it's been a couple of hours since you and I spoke. I was hoping you'd be willing to share some info but I see you've been busy.' As she spoke her eyes never left Cat.

I was surprised to watch the manipulative woman squirm under anyone's gaze. 'So here's the thing Catherine. I'm done playing nice and pretending like I'm not steps ahead of you already.'

My wife strutted to her, swaying her hips from side to side in a confident manner. I was intrigued by what she meant but chose to keep my lips sealed. 'The truth is. You lost control over Lindsey the moment you didn't want to hurt your precious Spencie and she didn't like that fact. She was in love with you and you betrayed her by trying to keep the federal agent she hated safe. The moment you brought Ethan in and had him take women that looked like me was the moment you fully and completely lost control over her. By then she knew you would never truly hurt or kill Spencer because rather you understand it or not the desire you have was never to kill him. All you want is his precious attention to never leave you. Simply because you’ve never had anyone show you their undivided focus until he showed up.’ My eyes widened. I kept my head down as I listened. Clearly my wife was done playing by the original rules of Cat’s game. It was always mental but right now my wife was aiming for the verbal killing strike. I glanced up and I could see her eyes hold unshed tears as she sneered at Y/n.

‘It’s funny that you don’t even understand the reasoning you are so infatuated with the idea of Reid. You've never had a man show you attention that didn't want to use you. Spencer came into your life showing you with respect and you didn't know how to handle it because you didn't know what that felt like. It's a shame really. '

Y/n kept her face calm but I could see the blood dripping from her palms as her nails dug into them. She was deeply upset right now. I doubt she even noticed she was doing it.

Taglist:

@sassymoon @rainsong01 @onlyhereforthefanfics @itsdars

#criminal minds fanfiction #unsteady keys #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer x y/n #yuki's babbles

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ad1thi · 4 years ago

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2020 fic recs!! [Part 1]

this idea was stolen from @iam93percentstardust cuz i just,,,thought that this year was absolute shit and it would be nice to make a fic rec list of fics from this year that helped me through it. this will be over a range of fandoms and ships, but all fics were written this year.

fics are ordered by the month they were published. ive tried to keep to five fics per month, but this is not obviously all the fics ive read that month - i just didn’t want to make this insanely long.

im releasing the first half of this on the 1st of December, and the second half on the 1st of January 2021 - because otherwise it would just get so long (and also so i will actually have fics for December)

happy reading!! hopefully you find fics on this you haven’t read yet

***

January

The cat is mighty dignified (until the dog comes by): @five-wow

Steve and Danny find them on the pillow in the corner of the dining area, where Eddie is on his side, ass half on the floor because the pillow is more cat-sized than lab-sized, and Pickles is nestled between Eddie’s front legs, essentially being spooned and looking very I-got-the-cream about it. Pickles’ head is tucked into the crook of Eddie’s neck and Eddie’s head slots perfectly on top of Mr. Pickles’, like a furry jigsaw puzzle.

“They’re cuddling,” Steve points out, unnecessarily.

Or: There is a love story unfolding under the McGarrett roof.

Captain ‘Socialist Rage Muffin’ America: @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

It takes three months of dating Steve Rogers for Tony to understand why Aunt Peggy once shot at him in sheer frustration.

Alternately titled, Honey, I committed treason again.

The Best Laid Plans (Of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

Fourteen Million to One: @tunastorks

Six months after Thanos, six months after Tony’s death, six months after Steve returns to his own timeline, Tony Stark turns up on their doorstep.

Brewed Awakening: @iam93percentstardust

Two years after he comes out of the ice, Steve is drifting through life. On his teammate's recommendation, he decides to go back to school where he meets the grandson of an old friend. He finds happiness with Tony but Steve won't be in Boston forever and someone is out to hurt the Starks. Will Steve and Tony be able to reach their happily ever after?

February

the young, the reckless and the foolish: @bruciewayne

In most universes, they don't know each other, not in the slightest, or they hate each other, in a way that's perfectly logical for anyone who were to find themselves in a similar situation.

In this one, they've known each other since they were four years old and naively idealistic.

This is them over the years, against the odds.

a giant sign: @areiton

“Think you can get him to open the weapons division up again?” his CO asks, his voice hungry and Rhodey laughs because this--

“No. Tony hung up his weapons.”

“That’s not what the suit says,” his CO objects, and Rhodey shrugs.

Tony has always had rules, rules he expects the entire world to live by.

And then there was Rhodey, slipping under them.

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast: @nethandrake

Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual.

He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either.

What is unusual is that the stranger is silent.

(One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Just A Cold: @/delighted

There’s a new text waiting for him. It’s from Steve of course, and it’s vaguely threatening as most messages from Steve are these days. Still Danny ignores it, and now he’s really playing with fire. Maybe it’ll burn the cold out of him.

Or, Danny’s sick, and Steve can’t stay away. The usual comfort fluff. With a little cameo from a gently meddling Grace.

An Unexpected Guide: @/Rachel500

Danny Williams has hidden his Guide status to keep being a detective, but his time of hiding is up when he unexpectedly finds his Sentinel, Steve McGarrett in the midst of a tragedy.

March

Why don’t we (Collide the spaces that divide us): @five-wow

When they finally catch sight of each other again through the milling crowds, they’re both a little worse for wear. Danny’s left side is covered in glitter and every time he brushes a hand over his hair, more blue and purple confetti rains down. Steve is- Well, Steve is randomly shirtless, which is all things considered not excessively remarkable, but he’s also covered in smudges of colorful paint and has a very nicely printed bloodred lipstick kiss mark on his cheek.

“What did you do?” Danny asks, because it looks like Steve had a lot more fun than he did.

Or: Steve and Danny accidentally end up in the middle of something entirely new.

A Little Unsteady: @finduilasclln

Written for the Tumblr prompt meme : "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

Tony lashes out at Bucky for eating his dessert. Only, it really isn't about the dessert.

a national treasure: @starklysteve

Steve isn't looking for an apple and Tony decides his passion is to inspire young souls. -x- OR: the AU where Tony is a Youtuber and Steve is Captain America and somehow they still save the world together.

April

cycle through: @ambivalentmarvel

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Stark disappeared from his family home a month after the tragic deaths of his parents, Howard and Maria Stark, leaving a billion-dollar tech conglomerate without an heir and the world wondering what happened.

Twenty-three years ago, HYDRA gained another super soldier.

Ten years ago, Peter Parker’s parents died in what is ruled as a home invasion gone wrong but he knows was murder, plain and simple, because he spoke to the killer.

And in the present, Project Insight fails, and the Iron Soldier pays the price.

FOREVER-LOVE YOU-I: @/Eudoxia

Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

Especially for Tony's soulmate.

Companion piece to my fic Thumb, Index, and Pinky Extended. This is Steve's POV, with a few extra scenes, as a treat.

(Edit: Sorry if you guys get multiple notifications for this. I just realized (about two hours after posting it) that I fucked up the grammar in the title and I HAD to fix it. YOLO, I guess.)

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

i don’t have a choice (but i’d still choose you): @nethandrake

There’s a name inked onto his chest, a name written in an all-too familiar scrawl. And it’s— It’s—

Steve doesn’t realize his body is quaking until he’s tracing the tattoo with a shaky finger.

Because of course that is the name etched into the skin. Like a brand, a reminder for everything he has done. An appropriate retribution.

Anthony Edward Stark.

(When Thanos snaps half of the universe away, he unknowingly leaves the other half with soulmarks.)

ua haʻalele ʻoe iaʻu (a ua hoʻomālamalama ʻoe iaʻu): @just-fandomthings

"The truth is, I was shot in the chest and nearly died, and not even three days after I was released from the hospital, you up and left-- and of those two, I'm not sure which one hurt me worse!"

(Coda to 10x22 because come on, we all need a better ending than the one given to us.)

Title loosely translates to: "You left me in the dark (you lit me up)" -- inspired by the brilliant song "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur

May

A Piece Of The Past: @hddnone

It had been so many years since Bucky had gone undercover in the Stark family's mob, he thought he'd gotten away clean.

Then Tony Stark slid into the seat across from him at his breakfast diner, and Bucky's boss has a new case for him.

the privilege of loving you: @starklysteve

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It’s a desperate plea, half-shouted and half-whispered, Steve’s voice cracking at the end. Tony stops in his tracks, halfway to the stairs. He doesn’t dare to turn back, and he really doesn’t want to fight, or to leave, to spend the last month of his life away from his husband and their son. But Steve can’t know, can he?

-x-

Or: Tony has palladium poisoning, but he doesn't tell Steve and Peter

your pillow feels so soft now (but still you must advance): @firebrands

When Bruce is 13, he decides to go to boarding school. It's an opportunity for him to learn about other people, and how to interact with them.

Bruce has the misfortune of meeting Tony Stark upon his arrival in Roxbury. Bruce is moving into his room, and Tony opens the door of his room to watch. He looks a bit younger than Bruce, hair wild and eyes bright. Bruce has never seen a boy like him before—handsome and confident.

Bruce doesn’t like it.

IMPORTANT: This fic has them meeting at 14, then progresses slowly until they’re 17. Includes underage drinking and kissing.

This is set before Bruce becomes Batman and Tony becomes Iron Man and I have no explanation as to how or why they just DO Canonically, Bruce is 17 when he finishes school and goes around the world to train, so we're sticking with that

The Real MVP: @sword-and-stars (part of a series)

[“I have saved this Tuesday!” Sokka announces, rattling the bag upon reentry.

Zuko doesn’t even look up from his phone as he deadpans, “It’s Thursday.”

Okay, so Sokka is still having trouble getting his days right without checking. At least he’s gone back to sleeping at night! Going to bed at night is way easier when you have a cute, cuddly boyfriend who starts falling asleep around eleven o’clock. It also helps that he and Zuko are on solid gold butt-touching terms.

It’s been a while since Sokka has been on butt-touching terms with someone and it’s amazing.]

Or,

Sokka knows a guy, gets laid, and introduces Zuko to the merits of an afternoon delight.

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it): @riotwritesthings

There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch.

And one tiny little bed.

June

Nice Fingers: @anthonyed

A single compliment given by Tony stirs Bucky restless until he caves in and asks him out on a date.

With Steve’s help of course (whether he likes it or not).

The Darkest Touch: @starkrogerrs

This is the story of how Steve finds that it has been ordained that he is to marry a monster he cannot resist aka the God of Love himself, Tony.

It's Cupid x Psyche retold, but with thrice the amount of porn.

The Night Shift: @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Wind Beneath My Wings: @iam93percentstardust

Sam first meets Tony Stark in 2005 when he joins the EXO-7 Falcon program.

In jest: @/apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

#adi's rec list #mcdanno #stevetony #buckytony #brucetony #rhodeytony #zukka #samtony #january - june #there's so many different ships on this #and different authors #and it spans three fandoms #so hopefully you guys enjoy this!!

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