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skiller0dani · 4 years ago

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Broken Paradise | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut requests info wc | 9.1k summary | you run into an ex boyfriend during an interrogation. except it's you being interrogated, and it's your ex boyfriend doing the interrogating.

song

another draft just waiting to be published. really obsessing over Spencer Reid.

also there's mentions of abortion, nothing graphic it's literally just a short direct reference and nothing else.

You always hear people say your past will come back to haunt you, you just didn't know they meant literally. You leaned back against the metal chair in the interrogation room, you've been in here for what felt like hours. You couldn't complain too much seeing as it's your fault that you're in here at all. You wished they'd come in and tell you something, give you an update, say hi, say anything. You seriously underestimated how maddening silence can be. You knew little about the murders the police were investigating, something about druggie women being found mutilated. The pictures they showed you were downright horrifying, you'd need at least one solid bottle of tequila to forget the bodies of those poor women.

The Las Vegas Police Department were a bunch of judgmental pigs, the only reason they'd brought you here at all was because you were from the wrong side of the tracks. Both of your parents were users, and if you were lucky, also dead. They probably assumed you used as well, and seeing as you seemed to fit the killers physical preference the police brought you in for questioning and also for your own "safety". But really you knew they didn't give a damn about your safety, they just wanted to know where you got your shit from. No matter how many times you insisted you didn't use, they kept pushing. When one male officer started throwing your parents in your face, you stood up and promptly broke his nose. That's how you landed yourself cuffed to the table, tightly.

"Oh thank you so much for gracing me with your presence once more." You smiled sarcastically as another officer walked in, wait he's definitely not an officer. The man who entered the room had cleanly cut dark hair, and wore an expensive looking black suit. Not the run of the mill beat cop that you were expecting. You bit back any other fiery remarks, if you wanted to get the hell out of here you needed to cooperate. Diana would be expecting you, not that you were itching to see her but after letter number 75 of her begging you to swing by- well lets just say that Spencer's mother was never the problem. You doubt Spencer even knew Diana was contacting you, which was good. You wanted nothing at all to do with him.

"I'm Agent Hotchner here with the FBI I need to ask you a few questions." This man was all business, you seriously had to fight the urge to fuck with him a little bit.

"I'd shake your hand but..." Your eyes flickered towards the table, where the police officer who's nose you broke had very tightly handcuffed you. In fact he cuffed you so tightly that your wrists were already raw and bleeding a bit.

"They wouldn't have handcuffed you if you didn't punch an officer. Did he hit a nerve?" The Agent's face was level, and gave nothing away as to what he was thinking. You tongued the inside of your cheek, your foot tapping quickly on the concrete floor. These assholes were really starting to piss you off.

"He was being a dick, how many times do I have to tell you guys that I don't use? Are your heads filled with sawdust?" You snapped roughly, yanking away from him to lean back in your chair despite the biting pain in your wrists.

"That's not why I'm here Miss Y/L/N." Agent Hotchner said, his voice even and his eyes on you. The way he was looking at you made you feel exposed, like he could read all of your secrets because of the way your eye twitches when you're nervous. You hate these damn FBI profilers- wait.

"How's Spencer?" It's a shot in the dark, a very long shot in a very dark tunnel. Before the scumbag left you without warning, Spencer mentioned that someone was trying to recruit him for the BAU department of the FBI. The profilers. Spencer left and never came back, two guesses as to where he went. Your eyes locked onto the Agent's in front of you, and from the slight upturn at the corner of his brow you knew you got him. Spencer is here.

"You know Dr. Reid?"

"So he's a Doctor now, doesn't surprise me. Let me guess, he has PHD's and Doctorates in Math, Chemistry and something to do with Geography right?" You say as casually as you can and you can only hope this man is wondering how you happen to know so much about one of his Agents.

"Unless I'm speaking to Spencer Reid, I want my lawyer." You snap, leaning back. You know Spencer won't talk to you, and unless they have physical proof you're guilty of something they'll have to let you go.

Check mate.

Spencer couldn't ignore the questioning glances from his fellow teammates even if he'd wanted to. He watched you lean back in your chair from the other side of the one way glass, what are the chances that you are wrapped up in this case? You of all young petite blonde women in the metro area. The world was fucking with him, it had to be.

"She a friend of yours?" Derek's voice was the first to cut through the silence.

"No." One word answers were the safest route, the shortest diction would give little time for them to draw information out of the way Spencer was speaking. There was a tremble in his tone, he knew there was. Spencer prided himself for having little to no baggage behind him, but of all unopened suitcases- his previous relationship with you was the largest one.

"Really? Cause she seems to know a lot about you." Derek said, his eyes fixed on Spencer. The tension in the room was palpable, and suddenly it felt hard for Spencer to breathe let alone compose himself. After shoving free from the small viewing room, Spencer found it a lot easier to exist without the scrutinizing gazes of his coworkers.

"You hear her?" It was Hotch, with a patiently guarded expression on his face. Spencer and drugs wasn't an uncommon problem, although in the past his poison of choice was dilaudid. Now there's a string of drug related murders and a possible junky who seems to know a lot about him.

"Yeah, from before the Bureau." Spencer clarified quickly, and Hotch honestly looked the tiniest bit relieved.

"Think you could talk to her, she's made it obvious she won't talk to any of us." Hotch said, and from the tension building in Spencer's shoulders he can tell there's some bad blood between the two of you. Spencer took a deep breath before taking all of those unresolved emotions and forcefully shoving them down. Deep, deep down. It's time to do a job, there's a missing woman who needs to be saved.

When that door opened again, you thought you'd won. You thought they were coming to begrudgingly release you. Instead you were met by the big doey eyes of Spencer Reid, your first and last love. All the air was stolen from your lungs in an instant, the memories flood back and you can't stop them. The anger rises then, this is the first time you've seen him since he left you. The one person you trusted not to leave you did, he left like everyone leaves you. Like your parents left you. He's very clearly all business, his face hardly giving anything away as he swiftly reached down to unlock the handcuffs around your wrists. If you wanted to walk away from this without your heart getting broken you needed the upper hand.

"Heya baby." You smiled, you hoped that maybe it would disarm him. At least a little, but when you looked at him all you saw was a stoic and focused expression. Nothing? Really?

"I need to ask you a few questions Miss Y/L/N." Spencer's voice was controlled, even in tone. His voice... God his voice could bring you right to tears. You could still hear him saying how much he loved you with that stupidly angelic voice of his. Spencer was very quickly taking control of the situation and you did not like that at all.

"You know you can ask me anything, there's no secrets between us right Spence?" You leaned forward on your elbows, trying desperately to ignore the throbbing in your wrists. One of Spencer's biggest giveaways is eye contact, when he's upset or feels guilty he'll avoid looking into your eyes. You turn your gaze up to meet his, but once again you're completely disarmed to see him unabashedly looking into your eyes like it isn't a problem at all. Either Spencer has amnesia and forgot who you were, or what happened between you two doesn't hurt him like it hurts you. You refuse to believe it's the latter, he just forgot. Definitely forgot. Somehow he must have forgot.

"Nina Fredricks, have you ever seen her?" He slid a photo in front of you, you recognize her as the woman who was most recently kidnapped. Most recently being 12 hours ago so chances of her still being alive are unfortunately slim. You nibble on your lower lip, come to think of it you actually might have seen her.

"Yeah, saw her at Winchell's, little coffee shop on the corner of 5th? You remember right Spence? You used take me there all the time, I loved giving you head under the table." You smirk, but it quickly falters. Whatever training he went through must have stripped him of all emotion and turned him into a machine. Built only to solve cases and do nothing else. That wasn't the case however, you just didn't know how good Spencer is at compartmentalizing his emotions. He could only imagine the looks on his coworkers faces upon hearing you say that, at least he can just say you were lying to try and illicit some sort of reaction from him. They don't have to know that you totally used to slip under the table and swallow his cock in a diner full of people. They don't know about that side of him, and Spencer doesn't plan on changing that.

"When?" He presses on with the interview, and surprisingly you're forthcoming with information when you're speaking to Spencer. Even after all this time, he has this annoying power over you. This innate ability to get you to do whatever he wants you to, although you would prefer him to use this special ability in the bedroom. No! No you have to eradicate thoughts like that, Spencer hurt you worse then anyone else ever has. He hurt you worse because he made you think he was going to stay, and then he didn't.

"Few nights ago, she looked really messed up though. Winchell threw her out, definitely doped up on something. Before you ask, no I didn't see where she went." You sigh, finally giving up flashing Spencer the all too familiar 'you win' look. Usually a victorious grin stretches across his face, but not this time. Those times are over.

"Did you see anybody with her?" You're not entirely surprised that Spencer isn't writing any of this down, that stupid eidetic memory. You're fooling yourself if you think he forgot what happened, Spencer never forgets anything. Ever.

"Every detail matters."

You genuinely try to remember if anybody was with Nina, and while you didn't see anyone you remember shortly after she left the diner there was this horrible screeching sound. "After Nina left I heard what sounded like tires screeching on the street. Never saw a car though."

"Thank you Miss Y/L/N, is there anything else you can remember about that night? Anything that sticks out?" After a few moments of quiet contemplation, you shake your head.

"Am I free to go?" You ask quietly and Spencer shakes his head.

"Unfortunately we're going to have to keep you in protective custody. We'll move you to a more comfortable room, but you'll need to stay in the precinct."

"But why? I'm not a drug addict-"

"You are exactly this killers type, and we don't know if looking a certain way is more important or if being a drug addict is when it comes to him choosing his victims." Spencer explains simply, his mouth moving a mile a minute as he stands. When he turns his eyes back on you, you realize he's waiting for you to follow him. You stand and follow him out of the cold interrogation room to a comfier waiting room. It has a table and chairs, vending machine and a big plush couch.

"You can stay in here, we'll let you know when it's safe to go home." Spencer says, and this is when you finally catch the crack in his façade. His eyes flicker away from yours, trying to disguise the waver in his voice, the desperation to vacate the room as quickly as he can. But now that you've seen him break, even a little, you're going to crack him wide open. You won't let it go that easily.

"Spencer?" Your voice is soft, with an innocent drawl that Spencer can't resist. He turns his head to look at you, swallowing thickly when his eyes meet yours.

"You do remember me don't you? Once upon a time we were in love." You see the rest of his coworkers trying and failing to look like they're not listening. But it's not like you care if they do, Spencer will though but luckily his back is to the door. After a few moments of tense silence, he finally speaks.

"Of course." It's not the answer you were hoping for but it's an admission, which is more then you were getting earlier.

"Do you miss me Spencer? Miss me in bed next to you?"

"W-Well I-"

"Do you miss when I used to cook your favorite dinner every night when you came over? Do you miss how I loved you unconditionally?" Your voice was steadily growing more hostile, and you knew there were tears building in your eyes. This has all been building up for so long you know you can't stop it now.

"Y/N-"

"Do you miss being able to fuck me whenever the hell you want? Is that what you miss the most Spencer? You must not miss me that much because when you left I didn't even get a fucking call! You didn't even say goodbye, you just left!" You were yelling now, with tears streaming down your face. Spencer had slyly shut the door by now, he knew this was going to happen the second he saw you. He wished he could help you understand why he had to leave the way he did. He was trying to protect you, and he still firmly believes he's protecting you. Look what happened to Haley, what happened to Maeve. Spencer loved Maeve and he lost her like Hotch lost Haley, and Spencer can't lose you. Not you. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to you.

"Please try to understand-" You never even let him get close to finishing his thought.

"Understand what? Leaving me? You said you loved me! How could you love me and then leave me alone? While I was pregnant!" Your hands flew to your mouth, you honestly never planned on telling him that. Spencer's eyebrows rose high in the air, and you can tell you just knocked the wind out of him. Spencer's hand reached back for the door handle, "pregnant?"

"Spencer I'm sorry I didn't mean to tell you that way." You tried to explain, and despite the fact that he'd abandoned you, you were dead terrified of him leaving again now that he was stood in front of you.

"Do I have a child you never told me about?" His voice is shaky, afraid. Now you can see all his coworkers heavily invested in your conversation.

"N-No, I...I got rid of it." You said softly, watching the mix of emotions swirl across his face. When his trembling palm curls around the door handle you launch forward to grab at his arm.

"I'm sorry, please don't leave. Not again-" But he's pulling his arm free from yours and turning out of the room, nearly slamming the door behind him.

Spencer ignored the questions, he ignored the looks. His legs gave out somewhere near one of the couches. He stared ahead numbly, trying to make sense of what you'd just told him. Trying to somehow wrap his head around the terror of you being pregnant and then the grief of the lost possibility all at the same time. By now, JJ and Rossi had shooed everyone away from Spencer. Which he was immensely grateful for, the only thing he wanted now was to be alone. Completely and entirely alone.

Pregnant.

The word kept replaying like a scratched record, screeching in his ears every time he closed his eyes. Spencer pressed the balls of his palms into his eyes when he heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching him. Whoever it was, he already wished they would go away.

"Damn Kid, I didn't expect you to date such a spitfire." Derek joked as he sat down, doing what he can to ease the tension. Spencer didn't even bother looking up at him, his head stubbornly lowered and his gaze locked on the ground. Derek racked his brain for something adequate to say, but what was there to say? How could Derek find a way to make this right? Spencer just found out you were pregnant with his child and that you'd got an abortion all in the same 10 seconds. It was a lot to process.

"You gotta talk to her Spence." Derek's voice was less humorous this time. Spencer wrung his hands nervously, his eyes finally lifting to meet Derek's. A sharp shake of his head and a flash of the tears in his eyes and Spencer stands, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. Time to get back to work. Someone has to talk to you, Derek can't stand of someone crying by themselves like that.

"It's not really my place-" JJ tried to argue as Derek stood in front of her.

"Someone needs to talk to her, and Spencer isn't going to." Derek said, rubbing a hand down his face as his eyes flickered back to Spencer. Who was currently throwing himself headfirst into the geographic profile of the killer they're looking for, because maybe if he works hard enough the rest of the entire world will just disappear. Maybe if Spencer keeps working and does nothing else you'll just vanish from that room and he won't have to deal with this. It's not that Spencer wants you to go away, the opposite actually but there isn't room in his life for you anymore. It's not safe. Spencer would rather be alone for the rest of his life then put you in danger because he's lonely and misses you.

"Alright, fine. But only for Spence." JJ says, jabbing a finger in Derek's direction before reluctantly heading towards the room you're in. She glances back at Spencer, who has become consumed by the map in front of him. JJ can always tell when something is bothering him, he has physical giveaways. The way his shoulders are rigid as he scribbles something on the whiteboard, the furrow in his brow that lets her know that while he's working on something, his mind is elsewhere. The tremble in his palm from trying so hard to hold everything back, everything he doesn't want anyone else to see. To someone that doesn't know Spencer, he looks perfectly composed, his attention and focus completely on his work. JJ knows him well enough to know that his mind, and heart are sitting tattered in this waiting room on the couch next to you.

JJ creaks the door open, flashing you a smile that makes you absolutely hate her guts. Spencer probably has some puppy love crush on her, she's beautiful. Long blonde hair, slender body, stunning smile. Everything you're not.

"Hi I'm Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ." The way she's looking at you lets you know that she came in here to try and understand. You're not in the mood to talk to her or anybody else in this stupid building except for Spencer. You want to hate him so bad but you can't. You can't because of how much you fucking love him. The bastard.

"Look I know you're probably not all that excited to talk to me-"

"I want Spencer." You snap, and by the look on her face you can tell she isn't surprised that you said that. JJ chewed on the inside of her cheek, how does she say that Spencer doesn't actually want to talk to you?

"Dr. Reid is needed elsewhere right now, but I'm willing to talk if you need to."

"You don't have to lie Agent Jareau. I know he doesn't want to see me, he's doing that thing where he pretends to work on something while secretly obsessing over something else." You say casually, and the fact that you can pick Spencer apart so easily is somewhat off-putting to JJ. But that could be her unrequited crush on him shining through, deep down JJ doesn't like that some other woman knows Spencer better then she does. While you'd love to sit here and wallow in your misery, a much worse idea strikes you then. If you can't talk to Spencer why not fuck with the woman who's clearly in love with him.

"And the little twitch in his fingers, the slight clench in his jaw. See that? He keeps rolling his shoulders back," while everything you were saying isn't a lie- it's guaranteed to annoy her. JJ stayed quiet, she hated that she didn't know what the goddamn twitch in his fingers meant.

"He's tense, but there's more. He can't stand still, keeps shifting from foot to foot. It's driving you crazy that you don't know why he's doing that." You laugh as her annoyed eyes flash to yours for a second before settling on Spencer again.

"You're a profiler, you can't figure it out? That doesn't surprise me, you've probably never considered the fact that Spencer has an unusually high sex drive." Your words completely stun her, and JJ's cheeks flush profusely.

"It means he's horny." You say casually, leaning back against the couch. You love the blush on her cheeks, and the fact that she's clearly biting her tongue to avoid saying something rude. You love that you got under her skin, and yes you're aware that you're a bad person. Now that you've said it, JJ can't get it out of her damn head. Spencer is horny. Spencer isn't a virgin. The thought of Spencer having sex makes JJ feel a sick turning in her gut. She was happy believing Spencer was a virgin, believing that nobody has gotten to experience that side of him yet. Happy to believe that he was untouched, but apparently that was not the case. Now that the illusion has been shattered, JJ feels as though the jagged pieces of it are cutting into her, and she knows you enjoy watching her bleed.

"Trust me, I know just what to do to relieve the tension, I know how to get him off quick. Do you?" You smile as you let your eyes shamelessly drag down his slender frame.

"You're only saying this because you want to control the conversation, and you hate that I see him everyday. That I can talk to him whenever I want, about whatever I want. You wouldn't lash out if you didn't feel intimidated." JJ says calmly, rendering you just as speechless as she was moments ago. The pain that was sent stabbing into your heart caused you to recoil back from JJ, trying to hide your misty eyes from hers. You can't let her know that she's winning.

"Look, we can both get nasty all we want but that's not why I'm here. I just want to help." JJ says sincerely, but you still don't budge. JJ taps her fingers against the wood of the table, thinking about leverage she can use to get you to talk to her.

"Spencer fell in love again." JJ says finally, and this time you turn your gaze up to look at her. You push your emotions down, no matter how much it hurts to hear her say that. Who is she? Are they still together?

"If you want to know more about her, then I suggest you talk to me. An answer for an answer, fair?" You can see her trying to bait you, and damn her because it's working.

"Fine." You grumble, leaning back fully against the couch. Your eyes catch Spencer's for a second when he turns to face the table, presumably looking for a map you remember being on the right side. You point to the right side of the table and Spencer looks nothing but annoyed when he follows your direction and finds what he's looking for. He hates that he functions better as a person when you're around.

"What's the deal with you and Spence?" JJ asks, and there is a lot to unpack with that question.

"Gonna have to be more specific." You say with a shrug, your eyes hesitantly meeting hers.

"How long were you two together?"

"2 years 8 months." You answer without pausing, causing her eyebrows to raise. JJ didn't expect you to remember down to the month, it's been years since you and Spencer were together. That's not a short fling like JJ originally thought, that's a substantial amount of time.

"What's her name?" You ask, desperate to get information on this mystery woman who has stolen Spencer from you.

"Her name was Maeve." Was. You don't miss how she says was instead of is.

"Why do you hate Spencer?" JJ looked like she cared, but you know it's not you she cares about. She's in here to try and protect Spencer in some way, she's acting like you're the villain.

"I don't hate him. He abandoned me. Just packed up and left, no note, no goodbye. Haven't heard from him since." You snap, hating the amount of emotion that was in your voice. JJ's eyebrows furrow, that's just so unlike Spencer. He's not cruel, he's never been cruel but that...is cruel. You see a look flash across her face.

"Sweet boy isn't as sweet as he seems." You say softly, folding your arms over your chest.

"He must have had a good reason." JJ insists, her eyes landing on Spencer's back as he continues to map out the hunting grounds of the killer. You know he's just wasting time to avoid coming back in here. Spencer is a certifiable super genius, he finished mapping it out a while ago. He's just pretending he hasn't finished yet.

"Spence still with her? Maeve." Her name felt like poison on your tongue, and JJ slowly shook her head.

"She died in front of him, really tore him up." Your heart cracks a little bit at her words, you can't imagine how hard that must have been for him. You see JJ open her mouth to ask something else when the door opens, and a man with darker skin pokes his head in.

"JJ? Reid found him, we gotta go." As soon as he arrived, he's gone with JJ hot on his heels. She sends you a smile before she rushes out of the room, and you see Spencer following her path out. They're going to arrest a murderer who has an arsenal of weapons at his disposal.

"Spencer! Y-You can't go, it's not safe!" You blurt from the doorway, and he pauses. His eyes find yours as he holsters his pistol, an unreadable expression on his face.

"It's my job." And that's all he says before he disappears out of the precinct, leaving you once again.

You couldn't quell the anxiety turning in your gut, you're not sure how to exist while Spencer is out there hunting a murderer. You wished that you could turn off the part of your brain that's still so damn attached to him, but no matter how hard you try you can't silence your heart as it calls for him. You're not sure you could survive the constant fear of losing him if you ever ended up with him again, this life is too much for you to take. Maybe he knew that all those years ago when he left you the first time, Spencer always could see right through you. Maybe he left because he knew staying would only lead you to live a life of constant fear, maybe he was trying to protect you. Either way the reasons don't matter anymore because he left, and nothing can change how badly that hurt you.

"Does it normally take this long?" You ask a passing officer, who in turn shrugs before continuing on his path. You feel like you're going to explode or vomit, or both. It's been over 2 hours, should it be taking this long? What if he got shot? What if he's dead right now and you're sitting here with your damn thumb up your ass worrying about him like a useless housewife? Feeling useless, that's what you hate the absolute most. Knowing there's nothing you can do to stop a bullet on it's trajectory to his heart.

"Spence, are you sure you're okay?" You hear a flurry of voices and when his name graces JJ's lips you're pushing out of the room. Your eyes find him instantly, and then travel to his palm which is pressed tightly to his neck. His bleeding neck. You feel your heart rate spike, hammering like the hooves of wild horses as you move without thinking about it. Before you even understand that you've moved, you're stood in front of him. Your eyes try to scan his neck for wounds but his palm covers the location the blood is coming from.

"C'mere." You grab his wrist and yank him back towards where you saw a first aid kit earlier. Luckily your 2 and a half years of nursing school taught you how to stitch a wound and perform basic first aid. Spencer offers no resistance as you yank him to a back corner of the precinct, pushing him to sit down. You grab the first aid kit, slowly prying his hand from his neck. Your eyes mist at the wound, it's a bullet wound. Looks old though, there's scarred tissue. This had to have happened a few weeks ago at least. You see the thin line of the scar, the middle section seems to have opened up again.

"You didn't wait long enough for this to heal." You scold gently, not missing how his eyes watch you with an intensity smoldering in them. You miss the way he used to look at you, the way he's looking at you right now. You miss being the center of his whole world, you scoff. Look how easy it was for him to walk away from you. You threat a needle to stitch the center of his wound shut again, and when you look for numbing cream you discover that there isn't any.

"Spence, there isn't any- I can't find the numbing..." Your voice trails off as you begin to yank things out of the first aid kit to search for the numbing cream. Spencer's hand catches your wrist and it's only just now that you realize you're trembling.

"It's okay. I'll be fine." He settles back against the chair he's sitting in, turning his head to reveal his neck to you. You hesitate, the Spencer you remember had a very low pain threshold. All of a sudden he's expecting you to stitch him up with no numbing agent?

"Y/N, I can handle it." Spencer says again, his voice firmer than before. You swallow a lump in your throat before reaching forward to begin stitching. You press the needle against his neck, eyeing him to gauge his reaction as you puncture his skin to make the first thread. To your surprise he hardly flinches, a small quirk in his lip is the only giveaway that he's in pain. Is this the same man that got squirmy getting a shot? That would shy away from the needle? Now he's sitting here letting you stitch him up without moving a muscle, without even flinching? The more time you spend with him the more proof you get that this isn't the same Spencer that left you all those years ago.

"How did it happen?" You ask, wondering how he could have survived a gunshot to the neck. He shifts uncomfortably.

"Got shot, two inches away from hitting my jugular." Spencer says it so casually, but you're so stunned that you halt your movements for a moment.

"How many times have you been shot?" You ask, your voice hoarse. Is him getting shot a common occurrence?

"Twice. Also got shot in the leg." The casual way Spencer talks about it almost convinces you it isn't a big deal. But it is. It's a bullet ripping through his body, and it's happened to him on two separate occasions. You finish stitching and bandaging him up, your hands moving away from him as soon as you can.

"Thank God you went to nursing school or I'd be six feet under." He jokes. You know he's kidding but still, the thought of it makes you feel lightheaded.

"Don't say stuff like that." You snap softly, and you know Spencer can see the fear and vulnerability in your eyes. You hesitantly steal a glance up at him once he's stood up only to find he's already looking at you. You shy away from his intrusive gaze, and you could practically feel him probing at your mind. Reading your thoughts as if they were written down for him. You hate that he can always tell what you're thinking, you hate that it was so easy for him to read you. Like a damn book. You have to fight the urge to reach out and grab his hand, it's what you always did when you felt lost or unsure. Spencer was always there to ground you and bring your mind back out of your thoughts.

"Miss Y/L/N?" You hear JJ's voice gently interrupt you two. You shoot away from Spencer as though you were doing something scandalous. He doesn't move an inch.

"Yes!" You blurt a little too loudly, suddenly flustered being so close to him. Why does your sharp tongue always leave you when you need it?

"You're clear to go home."

"I can take her." Spencer speaks up before JJ has a chance to offer, and she knew he would. You swallow a nervous lump in your throat, your palms shaking.

The SUV has dark tint, you weren't expecting that. The second you sat back in the plush leather seat your mind flew to lewd thoughts of you leaning over the center console, Spencer's hand in your hair as he helps you take his cock in your mouth. You steal one glance at Spencer, his right hand holding the steering wheel loosely. Your cheeks heat up as you glance down between his legs, get ahold of yourself.

"The address is-"

"I remember." You knew he would. That damn eidetic memory ensured that he never forgot anything. It broke your heart a little, because some naïve part of you was hoping he remembered because it meant something to him. You hoped he remembered the way to your house because he didn't want to forget, because forgetting it meant forgetting you. But you know the reality, you know that he remembers because he has no choice but to remember. His memory is too good to allow him to forget anything, even if it was something he wanted to forget. You're grasping at straws and you know you are, holding onto that foolish notion that Spencer still held onto the memories. That he still held onto the gifts you gave him, crying softly in the night like you did sometimes.

"JJ told me about Maeve." You say softly into the silence, and you saw Spencer swallow thickly out of the corner of your eye. "I'm so sorry you lost her Spence."

"Thank you." He honestly wasn't expecting you to say that, to acknowledge the pain. Because acknowledging the pain meant that you knew he loved her. He did love her. But it was a different love then the love he feels for you. It was special, but so are you. You're special too.

"Have you...dated anyone else?" Spencer can't help but ask as he subconsciously continues the drive to your house. A drive he's committed to his memory, a drive he never wants to forget. You shift to look at him, there were a few you dated. You know when you tell Spencer about them that it'll drive him crazy.

"Tony Anderson." You say and just like you thought, Spencer groans deeply. Spencer detests Tony, they were practically mortal enemies when he still lived in Las Vegas.

"Tony? Seriously?" His tone is incredulous as his grasp on the steering wheel tightens ever so slightly.

"He was a good fuck at least." You know you shouldn't wind him up, but he hurt you for Christ's sakes. He deserves a little bit of pain too. Spencer flinches, a look of anger and something else simmering in his eyes.

"Please tell me you didn't have sex with Tony."

"Why does it matter?" You shouldn't enjoy upsetting people as much as you do. But there's still a small part of you that's convinced that Spencer deserves this.

"Because I can't live with the fact that somebody else has gotten to feel that perfect cunt of yours, let alone Tony." His crude words take you by surprise, and you can't fight the gasp that escapes your mouth.

"Well before you start digging your grave, relax. I never had sex with Tony." You decide to put him out of his misery, and you see the relief physically flood his body. You lean against the window, the next admission from you will leave the air heavier in it's wake.

"I've never slept with anyone but you Spence." You realize it's been a long time since you've seen Spencer let alone had sex with him but you could never bring yourself to sleep with someone else. It's not as though the opportunity never presented itself, you had plenty of chances to have sex with someone else. But you couldn't because there's still a stubborn part of you that doesn't want to betray Spencer.

"Really? Why?" Apparently this revelation surprised him.

"Because no matter where you go I will always belong to you." You snap without thinking, blinking tears from your eyes as you avoid his gaze. Spencer fell silent then, and you know he feels guilty. Probably because he's slept with someone else in the time since he's been with you.

"I know you have and it's fine I'm not trying to-"

"I haven't." Spencer corrects instantly, his eyes meeting yours through the darkness of the SUV. If he could see you he would see the look of utter surprise on your face. It's not as though Spencer was an overly sexually ambitious person when you dated, but you figured he probably slept with at least one person. "I haven't slept with anybody else either."

"I know someone that wants to though." You grumble without thinking, your mind drifting to JJ and the obvious crush she thinks isn't obvious. Spencer tilts his head in a way that resembles a confused puppy, you resist the urge to ruffle his hair.

"Who?"

"Agent Jareau." As soon as the name slips past the threshold of your lips, Spencer's jerks the wheel in surprise. You see a dark blush color his cheeks as his other hand reaches up to steady the wheel.

"J-Jennifer? No way! She's my best friend." You nearly laugh at his flustered state, and normally you would push it a little further but you decide to let it go. You don't want to completely destroy the way he sees her, you know you already destroyed the way she sees him.

"You have no idea what a catch you are Spencer." You tell him as you unbuckle your seatbelt, getting ready to exit the SUV. Spencer reaches over and places a warm hand on your wrist to stop you from leaving, his eyes searching yours for an answer he isn't sure you have.

"Come in?" You ask hopefully, you're not ready for him to leave again. Damnit why did he have to turn up again after so long? You were just starting to think that maybe you could move on and find someone new. You were finally starting to feel okay, and then Spencer reappears and turns your entire world upsidown all over again. Deep down you know that nobody will ever compare to Spencer Reid, and you don't want them to. You don't want anyone to be like Spencer, you want him to be his entirely own person. It's what you love the most about him, is his ability to be himself no matter where he is or who he's with. All of his little quirks, the things about himself that he doesn't notice but you do.

"Yeah." His answer comes across as an exhalation of breath, and you try to hide how excited you are. You want to hold on to any moment you can, stolen moments that you take as you please with no regret whatsoever.

"Nothing has changed." Spencer muses once you unlock the front door and push inside the darkened living room. You blush, admittedly nothing about your small townhouse has changed. It's all basically the exact same as when Spencer saw it last. You rub a hand down your arm as Spencer's eyes go wandering. Trailing over the curtains he remembers hastily pulling closed to protect your decency on more than a few occasions. His gaze then travels to the couch, all those movie nights you two spent curled up together. Or when he got you into Star Trek and you couldn't stop watching it. Pain stabs his chest for a moment, it's hard to remember everything he had to let go of to get the job he has now.

"I miss you too, you know." Spencer says off-handedly. It takes you by surprise, the sureness in his tone is jarring. He sounds so comfortable admitting when he's vulnerable, it's never been easy for you to be vulnerable with him. Maybe that's part of the reason he left, maybe you drove him away by shutting him out. His eyes meet yours, a look so soft in his eyes it feels as though his gaze is caressing your skin. You bite your bottom lip to keep the emotions at bay, what is it about this man that makes you so emotional?

"I never said I missed you." You try to snap, to add an edge to your tone. But instead it came out watery and broken, and in turn Spencer reached up to swipe away a falling tear.

"But you do." You can't even deny it, it's obvious.

"Damn you Spencer Reid, I was finally starting to feel okay again." You cry softly, curling your arms towards your chest in an attempt to shrink away from him. He cups your cheeks in his palms, turning your face up towards him.

"I wasn't." He admits before his lips are on yours, and it's not frenzied and desperate like you've been picturing all these years. It's slow and calculated, soft and passionate. Firm but with a tenderness that makes your knees buckle from the gravity of it. Spencer's fingers card into your hair, pulling your head closer to his. He nips at your lower lip, his arms crushing you against his chest. You throw yourself into him, your arms holding him as tightly as you possibly can. Afraid that if your vise grip loosens, even for a second, that he'll slip through your fingers like trying to hold onto water. You almost don't want to let your eyes close, you don't want him to disappear again.

"I missed you, I miss you-" You gasp against his lips, grabbing fistfuls of his dress shirt. Spencer continues to move his lips languidly against yours, backing you against the wall. His hand ghosts down your side to the hem of your shirt, his fingers toying with it.

"O-Off." You beg, and in an instant Spencer is pulling your shirt over your head. His eyes land on your bare chest, shocked that he almost forgot that you never really wear a bra. His hands curl around your back, drawing your chest up into his awaiting lips. His mouth curls around your hardened nipple, your hand flying into his hair from the contact.

"Is this a dream? Please tell me you're really here Spencer." You beg, almost becoming lost in the emotions again. His eyes flutter up to meet yours, his mouth reluctantly leaving your nipple. He brushes his lips over yours, his hand trailing down your stomach towards the waistband of your leggings.

"This is real, I'm here baby. I'm home." Hearing those words was too much, and you launch yourself into his chest as the first tear trickles down your cheek. Your lips press sloppily to his, the kiss messy and wet as his hand slides into your leggings. His fingers find your wet slit in an instant, desperately parting your lips to slide a lithe finger into you. Your body reacts to him instantly, in a way that surprises you. Almost as though it too was crying out for him, keening into him and begging for his touch as much as your mind is. Spencer hauls one of your thighs up to hook around his waist as he presses another finger into you. You cry out softly into the quiet air, accompanied only by the labored breathing fanning across your face.

"I need to feel you, I- I need-" You can barely get the words out as he steadily pumps his fingers into you. His mouth on yours silences your desperate pleading, his chest firmly pressing your back into the wall. You missed being able to feel him and you hate that you forgot what it feels like to have his body on yours. It's been so long you forgot what the sting of his cock feels like. What it feels like when you stretch wide open around him, to feel like you're being ripped in two. Spencer continues his pace, his thumb rolling your clit to provide the extra stimulation you're missing. It's not enough to satisfy you, but its enough for you two cum. Which you do. You gush around his fingers as you gently come undone, your back arching into him.

"Please," You beg wantonly, curling your other leg around his waist as his hands hook underneath your thighs. Spencer's lips press against yours, moving slowly against your own. You know now that you will never stop loving Spencer, and that he's completely ruined you for life. You'll never be able to love anybody else without your heart wandering back to him. But then again, you don't really mind because you don't want to be with anybody else. You don't want to love anybody else. You just want him, only him. He pushes into your room, walking the entirety of the way with his eyes closed and his mouth pressed against yours. He has the layout of your house mapped out in his head? He never even bumped into anything until he was dropping you unceremoniously on the bed.

"Tell me what you need, I'll give you whatever you want." Spencer husks against you, hovering above you. Your fingers are already unbuttoning his shirt before you even have the chance to respond to him. You know instantly what you want, what you need from him.

"I want all of you, give me everything." You plead, your lips practically chasing his as he kneels up over you. He's being soft tonight, and that's something you appreciate greatly. You need to feel his love, you need to feel everything you know he can't quite put into words. His hands are shaking as he undoes the button and zipper of his dress slacks before kicking them off the edge of the bed. You stare up at his naked body, looking as though it's been sculpted by the Gods specifically for you. Spencer smiles softly at you as he pulls your leggings down your legs, leaving little nips and kisses on your inner thighs as he goes.

"Hurry." You groan, nearly clawing at his bare shoulders to pull him back up to you. Spencer chuckles at how eager you are, watching with interested eyes as the head of his cock breaches your folds. You reluctantly stretch open as he continues his intrusion, his fists curling tightly around the sheets. Christ you weren't lying about not sleeping with anyone else, you're so tight it's making him feel a little lightheaded. Inch by inch Spencer presses into you, his forehead resting against yours once his pelvis is sitting flush against yours. Sure, you've had sex with hi before but never have you felt this connected to him. Spencer sits like a gentleman and lets you adjust to his size, trying to take a few deep breaths himself. It's hard to breathe with your heat sucking him in with a vice grip.

"Can I move?" You're surprised by how collected his voice is, but the furrow of his brow is a giveaway that he's losing the battle to stay stock still inside you.

"Yes, please." You moan, unashamed. Spencer gently draws his hips back, pulling himself nearly all the way out before swiftly sliding back into your inviting cunt. He sets the pace slow and deep, his hands reaching up to lace through yours. Every time the head of his cock nudges that spot deep inside you, you can feel your toes curl. Your head slams back against the pillows, unable to keep your gaze on him any longer. You feel yourself becoming one with him, and you wish you could capture this moment somewhere other then just in your minds eye. Your memory is nowhere near as good as Spencer's, he'll be able to recall every detail of this moment up until the day he dies. But over time, this memory will fade for you. It'll wear out, all the details becoming fuzzy and blurred. If he's not here in front of you, you'll forget and you don't want to forget.

When the night draws to a close, and the moon has reached its peak, Spencer slips carefully out of bed. It chisels away pieces of his heart as he carefully gets dressed, reaching for his go bag which he'd brought inside upon realizing that he'd be staying a while. He pulls out a t-shirt he'd worn recently and leaves it folded neatly at the end of your bed, something for you to hold onto when he's gone. Spencer's cheeks are wet with tears as he leans over and presses a kiss to your head.

"I love you." Is the last thing he whispers in the space between you two before he's gone again.

On the jet, Derek can't keep his eyes off Spencer and that helplessly broken look on his face. A book is laid nestled in Spencer's lap, but Derek can tell he isn't really reading it. Trying to bother Spencer into opening up probably won't work, but it's worth a try. Derek has to do something and this is all he can think of.

"You okay kid?"

"Yeah fine, why?" Spencer draws his eyes up from the book, his gaze meeting Derek's from across the table. While Spencer might be a talented actor, he can't lie to Derek.

"Look I know how hard it must have been leaving her again-"

"Did you know that on average the FDA allows a minimum of 1 rodent hair per 100 grams of peanut butter? They have to allow themselves room for error just in case of-"

"Alright you win, forget it." Derek sighs, turning his gaze out the window. In an instant Spencer drops his peanut butter spiel, turning back to his book. A guaranteed way to get people off his back is to start rambling about something boring or gross, they usually leave him alone pretty quickly. It's not that Spencer doesn't appreciate Derek's concern, he just doesn't want to talk about it. He can't talk about it, because every time he imagines how you're going to feel when you wake up, tears come to the surface of his eyes. He hates this case more than all the rest even though they saved the victim. Spencer hates this case for ripping open an old wound, one he thought healed.

He was wrong.

When you wake the next morning you knew he'd be gone. That didn't stop the tears from coming when you reached over and felt cold sheets. That didn't stop the tears from coming when you cried how much you loved him over and over again even though he couldn't hear you. It doesn't change how badly this hurts, how much worse it feels compared to the first time he left. Your eyes catch the shirt folded at the end of the bed and you grab it instantly. You pull it over your body and you lay down in your bed, inhaling his cologne that you know will fade over time. Eventually his scent will disappear, removing all traces that this fabric belonged to him at all. Every trace of him will disappear over time, every mark from your body will slowly vanish. When it's all gone, you'll be left with nothing more than a t-shirt that's too big for you, and a cold reminder that the man you love will never truly be yours. A reminder that every time he comes home, he leaves again.

A cold reminder that this world is cruel for bringing you Spencer Reid, only to rip him from you again and again.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer x y/n #spencer x you

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comfortwriting · 4 years ago

Text

I Hate You - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Requested/About: Enemies to lovers smut! Fred is constantly getting his classmate into trouble, and Y/N is finding herself spending more of her evenings in detention with him - her hate for him growing. One evening, something out of the ordinary happens between them.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, mention of blood, smut, fingering, handjob, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex.

"Stop shaking the desk!" you hissed at your transfiguration partner.

Fred smirked and squinted at you "no" he replied, his ego popping out in his voice "if you've got a problem go and sit somewhere else"

You watched Fred waving his wand at the mouse that cowered in front of him, letting out little squeaks each time Fred failed to transform it into a large cotton bud.

How this feud started between the two of you - you couldn't remember - you were past caring. All you know is that Fred hates you, and you hate him, his face pisses you off and your face - your body frustrates him.

He thought about you constantly, almost as if you were invading his mind on purpose just to taunt him - you appeared in his dreams and he couldn't stop it, he couldn't figure out why this was happening - why he would dream of you feeling nothing but hatred, only to wake up with his ejaculate spilling on his bedsheets.

"Don't ask me for any help during potions class, then." You replied, taking out your wand, the mouse suddenly going stiff, then turning round fluffy, losing its legs, ears, facial features, and tail.

Fred scowled at you, poking the cotton bud with the tip of his wand "I wasn't going to" he slouched back in his chair, pulling apart what once was the mouse, grumbling under his breath. "This is kids stuff" he huffed "It's only why you're good at it."

You rolled your eyes and snatched the cotton bud out of his hands, 'Reparo!' putting it back together and transforming the bud back into the innocent, shy, creature that curled up into and started to tremble in your hands.

"Miss Y/L/N, I think your partner can do his own work" Miss McGonagall spoke out, staring down at you whilst walking past your desk "Sit up Mr Weasley!" she hissed at Fred, hurrying to the front of the classroom.

Fred sighed and sat up grudgingly, "It's alright for you, being a good girl who never makes mistakes, who everyone loves so dearly."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes "you talk so much shit, Fred Weasley!" you huffed "I actually spend my time revising because I actually make mistakes, something I'm sure you've never given the time of day to work on!"

Fred huffed "You sound just like my brother Percy, it's as if he never bloody left!"

Whilst the back and forth continued to unfold between you and Fred, the class was dismissed, everyone leaving - you and Fred didn't notice, too wrapped up in arguing, his brother George and friend Lee stayed behind, watching and enjoying the entertainment.

"Well, you know what!" you raised your voice, picking up your bag and pushing your books inside "sod you! you're on your own next lesson, don't come begging when Snape rips you a new one!" you stood up from your chair and stormed off.

"Nice one Fred" George called out, walking out of the great hall and towards the dungeons "you're going to suffer in there, mate."

Fred pulled a sour face "she's the most obnoxious bitch I've ever met"

Unfortunately for Fred, you were in earshot of his insult "Obnoxious bitch?" you laughed out, catching up to him "lads like you are all the same, threatened by smarter women"

George laughed, bashing Fred in the ribs with his elbow, Fred felt mortified and could feel himself wanting to grab you and shove you against a wall, the thought of doing it however made him feel something he didn't want to admit...

he couldn't

no way

feelings for you? oh please...

Fred rattled his brain, trying hard to shake this intruding feeling out of him, he hates you, love is out of the question, anything intimate is a red flag.

"Well, with what you lack in looks and personality you make up for in IQ, I'm not threatened by you, you're just disgusting to look at and be around. My skiving Snack boxes wouldn't change your appearance you're that bloody ugly." he snapped.

Ugly.

Your heart pained at the word, why? you didn't know, whenever anyone attacked your looks and your body, you didn't care, it meant nothing to you - so why your heart is suddenly hurting did more than baffled you.

Why should you care?

It's not like you're in love with him or anything

You could feel your stomach doing flips, your blood boiling, how dare he!

"it's a shame because your dick will never match the size of your ego, regardless if it's flaccid or hard." You snapped back, pushing past him, bashing into him on purpose, storming towards the dark and dingy dungeons.

Fred went bright red, infuriated that you shamed him in front of his twin, especially for something that he believed determined his value as a man, his blood - like yours, now also boiling.

He wanted to storm after you, grab you by the wrist, pull you into him so you couldn't escape, he wanted to stare down at you whilst demanding an apology, hell, he wanted to show you - show you just how wrong you were.

"Come on now, Freddie" George spoke out, breaking him out of his thoughts "don't let her bother you, all the lasses say shit like that - if you let her get under your skin, she's winning."

she's winning

Fred couldn't and wouldn't allow that to happen, never in a million years - you wouldn't get away with embarrassing him like this, you were in for it, without a clue of what Fred is capable of.

Potions were nothing short of pure hell, you weren't able to switch seats, forced to endure two long hours with Fred who had never looked so angry before, he shot daggers at you, practically seething and speaking through gritted teeth when he needed to look over the ingredients and steps.

"I told you not to bother asking me for help" you snarled, stirring your cauldron, Snape watching the two of you argue in pleasure behind his test papers he should be marking instead.

Fred huffed "Well until you budge over, quit being greedy and let me pick what I need or I'll keep bloody asking!"

You bit your tongue, trying not to swear "Look, you forgot your book, either go and ask Snape if he has a spare or bugger off!"

Fred could feel himself losing his temper, his body temperature increasing, his heart thumping, his fists bunching.

"The two of you will have plenty of time to discuss during detention" Snape spoke, dragging out his words.

You shot Fred an angry look, your eyes widening and your nostrils flaring, Fred looked back at you, shaking his head whilst your Professor walked away, causing the two of you to argue even more.

"Look what you've done now! Thanks a lot!" you raised your voice, stirring your cauldron so angrily, specks of dark amber liquid splashed onto the desk and your skirt, hissing away.

Fred scoffed and stood up, snatching your book away from you, gripping it in his hand "What I've done?" he shook his head "You've caused this!"

"One more word and one detention will become a week's worth," Snape warned.

"Caused what?" You stood up, puffing out your chest "I haven't done anything! You're just an idiot, a dumb idiot who is jealous because I'm going somewhere in life and you aren't because you're fucking stupid!" You yelled, the whole room becoming silent.

Fred stared at you, his heart hurting, he wanted to cry.

idiot, dumb, fucking stupid, going nowhere in life.

"You're a fucking bitch, who everyone laughs at, who everyone thinks is a loser!" He yelled back.

These two weeks of detention would change everything and the two of you had no idea.

Arriving early in the Hospital Wing which surprisingly had empty beds that had been stripped from their bedding, Madame Pomfrey waved you over to her, a forced smile spreading across her face.

"You're rather early"

"I know" you sighed "It's to make up for Fred being late" you grumbled, the thought of hours with him this evening making your head pound.

"Well," Madam Pomfrey wandered around the hospital wings, laying out dirty bedsheets, pillowcases, pyjamas, empty dishes, and medicine bottles "the two of you - when he arrives - will be cleaning everything, without magic" she emphasised that last part, "I thought I'd be rather easy on you this time, you won't be scrubbing any bedpans this week."

You nodded, realising that she wouldn't be sticking around to watch you or Fred, you walked up to the long table and popped on the large purple rubber gloves, sitting down on the stool, waiting for your nightmare to turn up.

"You can only start when he arrives" Madame Pomfrey reminded you "Whatever you can't finish, you'll do tomorrow, and if there are any patients, you'll have extra work." She walked out of the hospital wing, leaving you behind, the waiting game beginning.

Two hours passed by, two long and dreadfully boring hours, you stared at Fred's matching purple gloves, itching to just get started and clean up; but you couldn't.

Instead, you filled the large bucket with laundry detergent, there was no point in adding any hot water, it would be left to cool anyway if Fred didn't show up soon.

Fred waltzed in, laughing and waving goodbye to his twin, shutting the door behind him. His face dropped when he met your eyes, he noticed your gloves and smirked, laughing lightly "you look ridiculous."

"I don't care what you think," you snapped "You're two hours late, everything just piles up you know, it doesn't just go away."

Fred pulled out the wand from his pocket "Oh come off it, love."

Love?!

Fred fell quiet, he felt embarrassed, mortified, and you stared at him confused, horrified even, your eyebrows knitted together. You brushed his mistake aside, knowing that pulling him up about it would just strengthen the argument.

"We can't use magic." You pointed to the line of buckets, sponges, scrubbers, mop, and broom "Everything has to be done by hand, the muggle way."

Fred's face fell, even more, something you thought wasn't possible, you picked up his matching purple rubber gloves and threw them at him "put them on."

Fred wanted to argue, but he couldn't, he didn't know what to say - the feelings inside of him confusing him, making him question everything, he felt sick, he could feel a strange fluttering inside of his stomach, something he only felt when he was in love.

Why was he feeling this now? How was he such a thing... love for you? He hates you.

Fred caught the rubber gloves and put them on, not saying a word. You filled up the empty buckets with warm water, the cleaning liquid making the water foam up with bubbles.

"You sweep" you passed him the boom "I'll mop after you've done, we'll take turns washing the bedding, pyjamas, dishes and bottles."

Fred's hate for you suddenly went through another wave, the fire igniting in his belly, he snatched the broom from you. "Just shut up and let's get on with it." He snapped, starting to sweep the dusty, grimey floor.

You walked away from him and sat down, huffing so the hair in your face moved away over your head, you placed the bucket on your lap, grabbed the pyjama shirt and laundry stain remover soap and started to scrub, focusing hard on the fresh spots of blood.

"I wasn't the one who turned up two hours late," you muttered under your breath, scrubbing the shirt harder, the red liquid slowly getting lighter.

Fred had swept the majority of the floor, he looked over at you, stopped sweeping and glared.

"Shut up," he grumbled

You grinned, the sight of him in purple gloves making you burst out into laughter.

"You look ridiculous" you laughed, dunking the pyjama shirt into the warm water, the stain finally lifting and ready to dry.

Fred dropped the broom, its long wooden handle clanked against the floor, you looked up at him as he stormed over to you, pulling off his gloves and throwing them across the room.

The way he walked with the expression on his face made you flutter, your crotch heating up and getting excited as he inched closer and closer to you, his hands now gripping on the table. You sighed and placed the bucket on the table, squeezing the water out of the pyjama top and handing it up to dry, Fred still staring at you.

You turned around, looking into his gorgeous brown eyes, sighing and pulling off your rubber gloves, setting them down on the table.

"What?"

"Don't what me."

"Well stop staring!"

Fred pushed the buckets of water off the table angrily, the water splashing as the buckets collided with the swept floor, the foamy and suddy water spilling everywhere.

"What was that for!" you yelled.

Fred reached out for you over the table and pulled you into him, he couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't ignore these feelings, his feelings, his wants, his needs, he couldn't deny himself of you anymore. When his lips crashed against yours, something that you couldn't describe clicked, like the missing piece to a puzzle, and you kissed back.

The kiss was hungry, passionate, lustful, and the two of you just wanted to fuck.

Your hands got lost in his hair, pulling at it as Fred gripped onto your waist, both of you now mounting the table, the dishes, bottles, bedding, and pyjamas fell on the floor, absorbing the water.

Moaning against his lips, Fred's hands pulled at your top, you moved your hands away from his hair and lifted your arms up, your top being pulled up before falling to the floor, being soaked by the water. The sight of you in your bra made Fred's face heat up and go red, he quickly unfastened your bra, unable to control himself.

He took your breast into his mouth, sucking your nipple, you lolled your head back and moaned, one of your hands held his gentle face as he sucked, the other fell down to his trousers, slowly undoing the buttons and pulling down his zipper. Your hand sneaked underneath the waistband of his boxers and you took hold of his erect length - you were wrong - his cock was as big as his ego, and you knew when you were able to look at it, it would be even bigger.

Fred's free hand dived under your skirt and went into your underwear, whilst wanking him off his index circled around your entrance hole - you were so wet, the thought of being this close to him usually repulsed you - but right now, you wanted nothing more than him inside of you, fucking you as much as he hated you.

His index finger slowly pushed inside of you, you moaned out and tugged on his cock harder, he started to finger you faster, knowing part of him was inside you made you so wet, and got you so excited. Fred added his middle finger, now pumping them faster as your walls tightened around his fingers, he pulled off your red and saliva coated nipple and attacked your neck with kisses, then sucking, leaving his marks all over you.

Fred pushed you down on your back so your body was now pressed against the cool table, he continued to finger fuck you, you pulled down his trousers and boxers with both hands, already missing the feeling of his throbbing cock filling one of them. You glanced down - you were definitely wrong - his length was large, definitely outshining his ego.

"You wanted me to shut up, didn't you?" you asked Fred, he pulled away from sucking on your neck, a confused expression formed on his face.

"Is that what you want?" he smirked, catching on "you want me to shut you up with my cock?" he withdrew his fingers, now coated with your juices, sucking them clean.

Fred leaned back, taking his cock in his hand "go on then" he encouraged you "suck my cock."

"Make me."

Fred grabbed you by the hair - but not roughly or too hard - you were actually quite surprised by his gentleness. You were on your knees now, sucking Fred's large length, choking on it as you went down deeper and deeper, taking more of him in your mouth.

Fred loved the sight of you sucking him off, the sight of your mouth being so full you couldn't say something stupid, the sound of you choking made him happy, he was finally shutting you up - but part of him didn't want to shut you up, he wanted to listen to you speaking about your interests, your hobbies, what you thought of Hogsmeade and Zonko's Joke Shop.

This part of him pulled you off him, you caught your breath and wiped away the laces of saliva that were hanging from your mouth, swinging as you moved back with the back of your hand. Fred pulled you into a kiss, this time it wasn't lustful, it was gentle, caring, soft - it made your heart skip a beat and it made you weak at the knees.

Once more, your back was against the table, Fred pulled down your skirt and knickers whilst still kissing you, your hands back in his hair, massaging his scalp, Fred propped your legs around his hips, you pulled him closer to you.

Fred grabbed out a condom, but you stopped him.

"Don't bother with that crap" you sighed, wanting him inside you already "I'm on the pill."

Fred nodded, confident that this would be enough, and he applied lube onto his length.

You wondered why he had brought condoms and a sache of lube, Fred didn't know why - he never usually carried these items, but after weeks of the same dreams that he couldn't explain - that small part of him kept telling him, over and over to bring it.

Fred looked into your eyes, searching for your permission, you nodded your head.

"I'm ready, Freddie." you breathed.

Freddie.

He had never expected you - of all people - to call him that, but he liked it, and he hoped that he could hear it again.

Fred rubbed his erect length against your folds teasingly, and then slowly pushed himself inside of you, the two of you moaned and exhaled - he felt amazing - stretching you out, and your walls felt amazing - tightening around him. He started to fuck you faster, his large length plunging deeper inside of you as he bucked his hips, your legs tightened around him, as did your walls, your hands now resting on his back, your fingernails digging into him leaving marks of your own.

His moans were beautiful - perhaps the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. How could you hate him? How could you be so mean to him, insult him, mock him and shame him, he was perfect, everything about him - your heart now reaching out to his - how could you be so wrong?

You didn't hate him, you were madly in love with him.

Fred couldn't take his eyes off you and your body - the perfect shape and size of your breasts, your tummy, the feeling of your insides engulfing him in warmth, your gorgeous eyes staring into his, the feeling of your fingers tips gliding over his back, then your fingernails scratching him.

Fred felt stupid, he felt awful for what he said to you - the way he treated you - calling you ugly - you were far from such a thing. This moment felt better and meant more than any dream he ever had - this was real, this was the moment he had been waiting for - his heart finally finding yours.

"Fuck!" you moaned out, reaching the edge "Please don't stop, fuck me, I want to cum!" you wailed.

Fred couldn't stop, he didn't want to, even if he was getting tired and over working himself.

He continued to fuck you, feeling himself getting close, you lolled your head back, your eyes rolling in the back of your head and released - your cum spilling onto his length, your moans filling the hospital wing. Your orgasm face pushed Fred over the edge, he spilt himself inside you and collapsed, holding you in his arms.

The two of you said nothing, you were trying to make sense of this all, and you were in trouble - after tonight, you would have a lot of explaining to do - not just to one another, but to Madame Pomfrey who would be back in half an hour.

After coming to, Fred pulled out his wand and dried your clothes, so toastie to put back on. You started to mop the floor as Fred speedily washed the pillow cases and bed sheets, hanging them up to dry, then starting on the dishes. With the floor sparkling clean, you joined him, cleaning and rinsing the bottles.

"You're not an idiot" You spoke out, breaking the awkward silence "You're not dumb either, and I don't doubt that you're going to go far in life."

This meant a lot to Fred, it made him feel secure.

"You're not ugly" Fred replied, scrubbing another bowl "You're not an obnoxious bitch."

Looking up at Fred, into his deep brown eyes, your pursed your lips for a moment.

"I don't hate you."

"I don't either."

"I don't want to hate you, I-"

"I feel things for you too, Y/N."

Madame Pomfrey burst through the door, staring at the rows of dirty bowls and bottles that needed cleaning.

"Looks like you two will be back here tomorrow!"

You and Fred shared a glance, smiling, with a flush of pink across your cheeks.

These two weeks were the start of something special.

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @alwaysnforeverfangirl @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @horrorxweasley @sebby-staan @onlyfreds @lucymfer @escapingrealitybyreading @freddiemylovelg @pandaxnienke @xmalfoyweasleyx

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heejojo · 3 years ago

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thirteen: how it really is

pairing: yang jungwon × female reader with txt and itzy appearances

genre: fluff, angst, crack, smau, flowers shop au

summary: y/n is used to getting what she wants, even if the person is in a relationship because as far as she’s concerned, the person isn’t married yet, but why is it frustrating when the flower shop owner doesn’t pay any attention to her?

wc: 1.3k

send an ask to be added to the taglist or fill out this form!

taglist[open]: @ncityy04 @ko-komi @jungwoniics @01718 @meltinghershey @enhyphun @adoreyeonjun @wonionie @jungwoniethinker@seungwaitamin @definitely-not-kyuzu @n1k1tty @elaineju @primorange @dei-lilxc @fylithia @icywhatim @sunghoonsflwr @angelamazing @bbanggami @ryujnworld @yukii0-0 @hobistigma @strawberryyukhei @woonieiv @chimsugacookie @oureris @sluxie @beomgyuv @babyberrie @chaebb @yjwfav @youreverydayzebra @luvyhee @lumixen

Jungwon tried to stop the way his heart raced faster anytime someone said they needed to talk to him. He searched his brain trying to look for a moment where he had upset you. Did you want to leave? Although you caused trouble a lot, you still helped him when orders got too much and he was grateful for that.

You had been out of it lately, zoning out and forgetting orders. You knew whatever Mirae had said about you wasn’t true in the slightest. You feared that if Jungwon knew, he would be like the rest and think of you in a different way.

Everyone else already had their fixed perception of you in their heads and who were you to ruin it for them? As long as you looked good in the image they had in their heads, it didn’t bother you. For Jungwon, it was different. Not only do you work for him, you already regarded him as your friend.

Jungwon closed the store and sat down next to you. Wiping his hands by the side of his trousers so they wouldnt feel sweatier, he cleared his throat.

“Something was going around on Twitter and I wanted to let you know before you got the wrong idea.”

“I haven’t had the time, let me check now,” he says and brings out his phone and scrolls. He comes across one of Mirae’s comments and turns to you with a confused look on his face.

“That’s what I was talking about,” you tell him with a strained smile.

"Why is she saying those things about you? Are they true?" the emotions on his face are unreadable so you're not able to tell what he's thinking.

"They're true and at the same time, it's not true"

"It can't be in the middle. It's either it’s true or it isn't true"

"That's why I wanted to tell you now. Are you willing to listen?"

"I'm here already, aren't I?" he asks. Seeing your crestfallen look, he tries to reassure you, "I'm willing to listen"

You take in a deep breath, thinking everything through again. You were about to expose one of your most painful memories to him so he wouldn't have the same misconception others had of you.

The air that surrounds both of you becomes tense. Your hands reaching over to hold the handle beside you before beginning the story.

“The people that you see around me now are the people that have been by my side for the past five years. You’ve had this shop for almost four years haven’t you?” he nods and you continue. “I studied law because of my parents. Back then, I had no aspirations and didn’t know what I wanted to be. All I knew was that I enjoyed working. My dad convinced me to study law and I agreed because it was better to do something like that than nothing at all. I had worked as a criminal lawyer for almost a year before I quit my job.”

“I met Yuna in university. She was the first person I talked to and we clicked ever since. At that time, Niki's parents kicked him out for not wanting to study engineering so he stayed with Sunghoon off-campus and worked many jobs and studied hard so he could attend that particular school. He got a scholarship and is studying animation now. He forgave his parents later and talks to them now”

“Jay studied business to work with his dad and he enjoys what he does because he can work from home. He enjoys what he does since he gets to work from home” the thought of your best friend enjoying his life made you smile.

“We all met each other at different times. Jay met Niki and Sunghoon at a convenience store and at that time, it was a friend of mine that introduced us all. The irony was that we’re no longer friends anymore” you stated with a bitter laugh.

“What happened between you guys?”

“At that time, I had a crush on him and everyone knew it. It’s not like it was obvious but I told him about it and he told me that he reciprocated them. Things went well at first, with Sunghoon and Niki faking disgust anytime we did cute things together or Jay and Yuna fawning over it. Then one day, I started getting texts from random people who would call me a homewrecker and when I’d ask them, they wouldnt respond. I told Jay about it and he tried contacting the girls that sent those messages himself but they wouldnt respond to him. I showed Heeseung and he brushed it off saying that they would leave me soon”

“Even though I tried not to show it, I hurt a lot from those messages. After a while, we swept them under the rug. I changed my number and they had stopped the messages. At that time, Heeseung still hadn’t asked me out. Anytime I asked him why he’d say, ‘I’m waiting for the perfect time to do so’. I let it slide. When I’d take the initiative, he’d say we should wait instead. He was messing with my feelings and I let him,” Tears were already welling up in your eyes and your hands started to itch. Gripping the handle of the chair even harder, you decide to continue talking.

“He would get pissed if I talked to other boys and say stupid stuff. Niki was the first one that noticed the way he was treating me and tried to talk sense into me but I wouldnt budge. Jay and Yuna knew because I told them how upset I was over it and tried to counsel Heeseung but nothing was working. I didn’t tell Sunghoon because he would get angry and want to retaliate”

“Heeseung later apologized and things went back to normal. It was nearing the end of that particular semester and Sunghoon took us out for drinks. At the restaurant, I could feel that people were watching me but I couldn’t tell who.”

“After that day, Heeseung took me to the movies to celebrate me getting my summer job but we didn’t even make it into the cinema before a girl came and started calling me names. I was very unsettled because I didn’t know her and yet she said those types of things and Heeseung didn’t bother to defend me. He stood there and when I tried to explain myself, she shouted at me even more. She didn’t shout at the boyfriend that cheated on her, instead of at the person that was unaware of it all. Believe me, if I knew he was in a relationship I would have not gone for him”

The tears that you were trying your best to control came down in full force. All that time when you and he would talk about how much you wanted to be part of each other’s future, he had a future with someone else all along. With a gentle touch, he lifted your hand from the chair and gave it a squeeze which made you cry harder.

“You don’t have to finish the story. I trust you” he said. More tears streamed down your face. It was the first time someone apart from your friends said that they had believed you and it felt satisfying. You didn’t have to continue hiding under your facade anymore. You gave him a soft smile and continued speaking.

“I called Yuna to pick me up and I stayed with her for a month. She told the boys what happened and said I needed to be alone. I cried the whole time I was with her. The boys gave me space for about two weeks before they came to check up on me. They were so angry and wanted to go out. Sunghoon was the scariest. I had never seen him that annoyed before. Jay had to cool him down. That day, we all promised each other that we wouldnt do anything to him and forget about it. After all, he was now with his girlfriend so there was nothing else to worry about. Since then, we’ve been even closer and even if they irritate my soul, they’ll always be like family to me”

Jungwon felt sorry for you and angry at himself. Angry for not being nice to you when he met you and sorry that you went through so much. To date, people still thought of you as a homewrecker or a mistress when you were nothing of the sort.

“He deserves to a beating up” he stated wanting nothing more than to hit Heeseung.

“I’m over it, I wanted to tell you.” Jungwon could tell that you were still not over it, considering the way your body shook.

“Do you want a hug?”

“Yes please,” and he took you in for one. Even if he worked with soil all day, he smelt good. He smelt like comfort and wait...baby powder!?

After a while, you had to ask, “Do you use baby powder?”

“It makes my skin soft” and you giggle.

You don’t know for how long you stay in his arms, all you know is that you feel better.

#enhypen #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon x reader

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1engele · 4 years ago

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daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 4. questions

Previous | Next

[warnings: cursing, smoking, death mention, sexual discussion, drug mention]

"every mile further, there's a part of me that slips away."

—

At lunch, you and Sal eventually locate the group's spot in the cafeteria. It felt almost like a walk of shame as the two of you approached and cautiously sat down at the table.

Todd, Ashley, and Larry all turn their heads toward you both. Normally, they'd most likely greet you as if nothing was wrong—which, to their knowledge, nothing was—but this time they were hesitant in saying anything. You could only guess they'd caught the wave as soon as you'd both sat down.

Larry looked calmer than he did in the car. You hoped Ashley and Todd talked him down.

"Alright, something's weird," Ashley's suspicious eyes flitted between you and Sal. "What happened?"

Sal looked you in the eye, before returning his gaze to Ash. "Nothing, we-"

You should have let Sal lie about it, but the fact he still wanted to be selfless and keep the peace made you angry on his behalf and was enough to make you cut in. "Something happened in class that pissed Travis off. In the hall, he fucking cuffed Sal in the face."

Larry jerks forward in his seat. You take advantage of his shock to keep speaking. "His shirt had blood all over it. That's why I gave him my sweater."

"What the fuck?" Ashley's eyes were wide, her entire expression forming into something furious. "We need to report him."

"No, we don't," Sal shakes his head. "It makes things worse. It wasn't even that bad. The blood was superficial. It didn't even take more than a minute for her-" he looks to you, clears his throat, and corrects himself. You guess he doesn't want any questions being asked about what happened in the girl's bathroom. "-for me to clean it up."

Todd swallows a bite of his sandwich and speaks up. "Sal may be right. It would make things worse. That doesn't mean it's justified, though—no matter what Travis is going through at home."

"You know what is justified?" Larry is seething in his spot. "Him getting his shit beat. When the day's over, I'm taking him behind the school and knocking the lights out of his fucking head."

Sal inhales beside you.

"Yeah—that's not going to do anything," you breathe. You feel the blue-haired boy shift beside you—like he'd turned his head your way. "I actually spoke to him on the first day of school."

Ashley's eyebrows fly up. "What? What did he say?"

"We were all in the hallway," you began to explain, slowly and steadily. "I'd seen him giving Sal weird looks earlier in class—and at that moment, he seemed off, too—just standing there at the far end of the hall."

You paused. "I don't know. I've seen it before. It was like he was gearing himself up to walk over and say something. So I took it upon myself to beat him to it. I went over, asked him what he was planning on doing—told him to pick his battles. He almost went over anyway, but I put my hand on him and told him how that wouldn't end well."

You swallowed and glanced around anxiously. "He looked at me, scoffed, and walked away."

Your hand raises to your neck. You absentmindedly drag your knuckles over your throat—a nervous habit. "I hope I didn't make things worse. If I'd known that maybe that was the reason he was pissed off today I wouldn't have done anything."

Sal hadn't looked away from you the entire time you'd been speaking. Carefully, he shifts in his seat to face you and starts: "No," he shakes his head. "He would have hit me anyway. What you said didn't make him do that. It's about what happened in class."

He glanced over the table before meeting your eyes again. "He's jealous. I think he wishes he had something like we- he wishes he had a friend. That's all. So don't blame yourself for Travis' actions like you caused them when all you were trying to do was defend me."

Tears form but you blink them away quickly. Something flashes behind Sal's eyes and he looks as if he's going to say something to console you but someone's speaking before he can. You look away first, settling your eyes on the table.

"What happened in class?" Ashley asks, slowly reaching for her bag of chips.

Sal's eyebrows twitch downward. "Nothing. I tried giving Y/N another answer and Mrs. Packerton gave us detention. That made Travis mad, for some reason."

Larry lets out a bittersweet laugh. "As funny as Mrs. Packerton giving you detention is-"

Sal rolls his eyes in your peripheral vision.

"-why would that make Travis mad? It's not like he's a goody-two-shoes. He barely gets by in school."

Sal shrugs. "Who knows. I really don't care what he thinks, anyway."

Larry is beside himself with frustration. You can tell it. He's tense and his jaw is hard. You know he's ready to get up and talk to the other side of the cafeteria and beat the fuck out of Travis but he knows he can't—because Sal doesn't want that.

"If I were you, I would have killed him already," Larry mutters. "Don't know how you do it, dude. I don't think you aren't capable of it."

The boy beside you falters. "I don't care about what he says to me. It's really about what he says to other people. When he started saying shit to Y/N—I, uh- I'll admit, I did sort of feel like hurting him."

Your heart skips a beat. Immediately after this happens, you feel like slapping yourself in the face for letting your hormones get the better of you.

You watch the rest of the table exchange glances you would've missed—had you blinked—before Ashley speaks. "Whatever. I just don't get why he lets his anger out on somebody who's done nothing to him."

After that, the conversation steadily drifts into something more lighthearted. Larry makes fun of you and Sal for getting detention for something you nearly got caught for the previous day. Todd recites facts about medieval times and Ashley for some reason thinks that it's hilarious and laughs.

You enjoy the rest of lunch, despite the earlier topic.

You've come to realize this school absolutely does not give a shit. You and Sal are accepted into detention without any further notice for your parents. As far as you know, the faculty hadn't contacted nor your mother or Sal's parents.

"Let me call my dad," Sal mumbles, as you both approach the door to detention. "When I'm not home in time he always thinks something bad's happened to me, haha."

He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and flips it open.

"I'd call my mom, but I don't think she'd care," you laugh. It isn't bitter, really—you just couldn't care less. "From how you turned out, I bet your mom is really cool."

Sal looks up from his phone. "Thank you. Uh, yeah. She was good to me."

You falter at the 'was' and ask a question even though you shouldn't have. "Are your parents separated, Sal?"

He falters, waves the phone in his hand a little. "My mother, ah- is dead, Y/N."

Dread plunges to the bottom of your gut like a heavy rock and weighs your insides down. You feel like the biggest idiot known to the world—and you feel even stupider now that you can't muster the words up to apologize to him.

Eventually, you collect yourself—only to spiral yourself downward into further shame.

"Sal, I am so sorry," you breathe. "I should have caught on sooner."

He seems almost surprised concerning your sincerity, eyebrows raising and his eyes widening. Sal quickly raises his hands and waves them, his demeanor appearing distraught. "No! No, don't feel bad. There's no way you could've known. I don't talk about family much."

You breathe in slowly. "I'm such a horrible person. Here I am, complaining about calling my mother, and.."

He blinks down at you sincerely, glances both ways down the hall, and returns his gaze to you, and speaks: "Do you want to just get out of here?"

Your head jerks upward. You swallow the saliva that had pooled in your mouth and fumble for a response. "What do you mean?"

Sal breathily laughs. "We'll get in a lot of trouble for this—but you only live once, right?" He shifts his weight and takes a step closer to you. "Let's just ditch the detention. Me and you."

Your heart jumps. "Don't you have really good grades? Sal, what if-"

"That doesn't matter," he blurts. You meet his eyes. The blue in them cast something familiar onto you—exhaustion. Numbness. The want to feel, the want to be exhilarated.

You don't know this boy very well—but you see something of yourself in him. A person who's kept between the lives most of their life, but they're just itching to break through that wall.

Sal is bored. He's sad. And he wants the thrill.

"Let's do it."

You and Sal both escape the school in a matter of a few minutes. Leaving involved a lot of unnecessary running and giggling and navigating through halls—but you make it out and breathe in the crisp, autumn air. It further dries your parched throat and rustles your hair.

"Wow," Sal breathes, beside you, as you both stand with feet firmly planted on the concrete. You're a few yards away from the school, enough distance between you and the building to where you can feel comfortable. "Never done anything like that before."

You laugh. "We ditched detention, Sal. We didn't run from the law."

"To my standards, we may as well have." He meets your eyes, the breeze blowing past his blue hair. "What do you want to do next?"

You take Sal to a playground. It takes a little while of absentminded walking and searching for something to appear, but eventually your eyes catch on that swing set and you can't resist.

"Come on!" You grin and run towards it.

He laughs behind you, and follows you a little less excitedly, taking his time with walking.

You sit side by side. You dig the toe of your shoe into the ground and push yourself into a steady rock, back and forth. The chains squeak which each movement of the swing.

"Hey, Sal?"

He looks over at you, his hair rustling with the autumn breeze. The more you look at it, the more jarring the contrast becomes—the blue against the backdrop of orange and red trees and the dull sky. "Yeah?"

"Wanna play 20 questions?"

Sal blinks toward you. He brings his hands up to grip the chains attached to his swing. "Sure."

"Okay. Just one rule-"

"Don't ask for your bra size?"

You laugh. "No. If you really want to know, it's-"

He waves a hand hurriedly. You notice the strain in his voice when he replies. "I was just kidding. What's the rule?"

"No boring questions. That's it."

Sal chuckles. "I'm a boring person, so I can't really promise that."

No, you're not, you thought.

"Prove me wrong. You go first."

"Favorite color?"

You chuckle, kicking dirt up from the ground as you push yourself into a steady rock, back and forth. "Wow. What a question. Uh... I don't know. There's a lot of great colors." You glance toward him, shivering as a gust of wind brushes your clothed shoulders. "Blue."

He inclines his head toward you. "It's your turn, now."

You pause. "I'll ask you the same thing. What's your favorite color?"

"Yellow. If you could choose a way to die, how would you? Old age or something peaceful doesn't count."

The abruptness of the shift in topic makes you laugh. "I'd like to be struck by lightning."

He peers at you curiously. "Why?"

"Does that count as one of your questions?"

Sal fingers at the chains of his swing. "Yeah, sure."

You shrug your shoulders, sucking your front teeth behind your lips. "I don't know, honestly. I'd like to know how it feels. It would probably just feel like fire, and it would fucking hurt—but wouldn't it be kind of cool? Have you seen a photo of someone after being struck by lightning?"

He giggles, lifts a foot and presses the bottom of his shoe against the other one. "Does that count as one of your questions?"

"Shut up. Have you?"

"No. What's it look like?"

You grin. "It's like.. tree roots. Or a branch with leaves on it—but it's a scar. You'd have to see it to understand."

Sal looks as though he's about to say something else—probably tease you for your strange fixation on lightning strike victims—but you beat him to the punch. "My turn. What's your favorite song?"

"Memories and Dreams, Sanity's Fall."

You raise your eyebrows. "Metal? Well, now that I think about it, you seem the type."

"Larry actually introduced me to it. I didn't really listen to anything before I met him. Alright, I'll ask you the same question. Favorite song?"

"Wonderwall, Oasis."

"That one's pretty recent," he hums, pauses, and thinks about it. "Yeah. That sounds like you. I like it."

You smile shyly. "It's not metal, sorry. Can we still be friends?"

Sal exhales through his nose amusedly. "No. You don't like the same music genre as me. Friendship over."

You laugh. "Well, I never said I didn't like metal. Anyway, my question is.. when's your birthday?"

"December 20th."

Your eyebrows raise. "Holy shit. You're nearly a Jesus baby."

Sal chuckles. "I'm far from being the second coming. It's 5 days off, anyway."

That makes him a Sagittarius. You're pretty familiar with the general traits of the zodiac signs—personality traits, physical traits, sexual tendencies—like a lot of teenagers nowadays.

Well, if he's true to the zodiac, he has a high sex drive.

Your face feels hot. You're a creep, your brain says.

A few questions pass by. He asks about your birthday, you ask him his favorite movie, etc. You're nearing the end of the game, and it's been a decent amount of time. It feels almost too soon when the sun begins to drift down in the sky.

"Alright, my turn," you say after you've answered the question Sal had just asked you.

"Shoot."

"Are you a virgin?"

A tense moment passes, and you seriously regret asking. All you can hear is your heart thrumming in your ears and your blood rushing towards it and through all of you.

He meets your eyes evenly. "Yeah. Obviously."

"I don't believe you," you reply, immediately.

His eyebrows raise. "Why not?"

You hope he can't hear your pulse. "Because. You answered that way too smoothly."

"That makes no sense. If I were lying, I wouldn't have been as cool about it."

You narrow your eyes. "That's not just it, though. Why hasn't someone fucked you?"

If the abruptness of your question shocked you, it certainly shocked him. Sal laughed loudly like he was in disbelief—swaying his head away from you. His knuckles grow white around the swing chains.

His head turns back and his eyes meet yours straight on. "What are you trying to say?"

"Oh my god," you slapped a hand over your mouth. "I sounded so ignorant just now. Sorry. I'm not shaming you—that would make me a hypocrite. I'm a virgin too."

Sal huffs out another laugh, breathily this time. "No, I didn't think you were being ignorant. That's not what I was asking you."

You pause. "Then.." You plant your feet on the ground and stop the sway the swing is in. The sun continues to drop further down in the sky, and it's golden light warms your face.

You look away from him, your heart beating against your ribs. "Hey, I have an idea."

When you turned your head Sal's way, his attention was already on you. "Yeah?"

"You said that you drive, right?"

"Yeah. Not legally. But I can drive. Why do you ask?"

You grin.

By the time you've arrived at the apartments, the sun has fully dropped out of the sky and the heavens were completely black—save for the full moon and the speckles of bright stars. This is one of the things you love about Nockfell—it's so far out. The lack of air pollution and chemicals below the clouds made the celestial bodies out there so much clearer.

"My dad's going to kill me," Sal muttered, as he forced his personal key into the door to his apartment.

"Hey, Sal, you know we don't have to-"

His head turns to you. "I never said that. I want to."

Sal pulls the key out and slowly turns the knob beneath his long fingers. Instead of easing the door at a steady pace, he holds on tighter to the knob and pushes it open quickly. For a moment, you almost scolded him for his recklessness—until you realized he'd done this so the door wouldn't whine on its hinges.

"Have you snuck in or out before?" You ask him, voice low as you watch him lean down to take his shoes off before he enters the apartment. "Why are you doing that?"

"These floorboards are shit. They creak under the carpet. Wait here."

He leaves his cornflower blue sneakers at the foot of the door and walks inside. You watch the back of his head as his figure disappears into the darkness of the room. Sure enough, he was right. His feet only emanate soft pats against the carpet and don't disturb the wood beneath—because he's only wearing socks. You hear the sound of keys before he returns to you.

"You didn't answer my question," you murmur with a teasing lilt, as he slides the door back into its place in the frame. He locks it back and turns to you.

"Not like this. I especially haven't stolen his car."

You laugh. "I hope I'm not becoming a bad influence on you. We've already ditched detention today.."

"Yeah, but that was my idea," he reminds you.

"I guess you're right. Do you think your dad will be mad at you?"

You loom over him as he forces his feet back into his sneakers. "Honestly? Probably. I've never done anything like that before. Getting detention is one thing, but leaving the school before actually attending it is something else entirely."

The both of you enter the elevator instead of going down the stairs. It's late, this complex is shit, and the stairwell wouldn't be lit.

Somehow, it hadn't crossed either of your minds that taking this elevator so late wouldn't be exactly wise either, but you'd stepped inside of the compartment anyways.

You stepped to Sal's left and watched him press the button for the first floor with his knuckle. As soon as he'd done that, and the elevator doors had slid closed, the singular light that illuminated the compartment flicked off and the both of you stood in abrupt darkness.

"Holy shit!" You exclaimed, jutting yourself into Sal's side and grasping the material of your sweater that he wore. "I'm sorry, but what the fuck? Did it just break?"

"No," he laughed, shifting his weight towards you. "It always does that in the night. I think it's to conserve power so the elevator doesn't break altogether."

You let go of him, embarrassment fluttering in your gut. You weren't sure whether to feel relief as you felt the elevator make it's descent downward. "I mean.. shouldn't there be a sign? I don't know.. that says something like.."

"'You aren't about to plummet to your death, the building's just really old?'" Sal finished your sentence for you and chuckled. "Yeah. If someone had a heart attack, they could sue. But the guy that runs this place is really old and doesn't really have family—so that would just be sad."

You're close enough to him to where you can feel him shrug. "There's an awful lot about this place that's rundown and weird and honestly sketchy, but Addison doesn't care. For instance, the college kids that live in 301? They spend all of their free time doing coke and heroin."

Your eyebrows raise into your hairline as you listen along.

"They're super nice people, and I don't mean to be rude at all, but god, you can smell the body rot inside of that apartment. It's really sad."

You look to him. "You've.. been inside of there," It wasn't a question—more of a statement.

"Yeah. I did coke with them once or twice."

You get whiplash, that's how fast your head whips toward him. "Sal," you breathe. "I don't mean to sound overbearing, but please don't do that. Ever again."

He huffs, but not of frustration. It's of resignation and understanding and shame. "I.. I'll admit it to you, Y/N, that shit is a lot more addictive than it's made out to be. I'm not going to tell you how I felt because I don't want to make it out to be enticing—but I can understand why they're addicts. I'd only done it a few times and it felt like any time I wasn't doing it I itched for it. Eventually, I got busier with school and other things—so after a while, I.. guess I sort of forgot."

You hear him turn his head to look at you. You barely make out his prosthetic face in the black. "I'll smoke cigarettes with you, Y/N, but I'll never introduce you to something like cocaine. By the way you reacted when I told you I'd done it, I hope you won't do it yourself."

You meet his eyes amidst the darkness. "You know, Sal," your gaze wanders to the elevator doors. The compartment shutters as it reaches its destination on the ground floor. Your fingers brush his with purpose. "I know of a lot better feelings that don't come from drugs."

Your heartbeat sounds like gushing blood in your ears. You feel his burning blue eyes on the back of your head.

At the same time as you're stepping out of the elevator, you've stepped into something else.

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader

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guardianofrivendell · 4 years ago

Text

Hostage - part 2

Kíli x reader

Requested: Not really, but it’s based on this post

Warnings: angst that fit a hostage situation (minor injury, abuse), company trying to be Kíli’s wingmen (because we all know how awkward that is)

Summary: You’re a fierce little thing, too proud to ask for help and a bit too eager to prove your worth. So when you convince Thorin to let you go scouting instead of Fíli and Kíli while on the quest, it’s not a surprise things don’t go the way you planned…

A/N: Mahal, why do I hate myself so much? I’m good at writing funny fluff and bantering and all that stuff (at least, I’d like to think that), not action scenes! But here we are, I’m still not entirely happy with it but I have to post it because I’m going mad if I don’t :)

Also this gif below is perfect for a specific part, you’ll remember when you get there!

And please, please, please, let the tags work this time!!

Read part 1

He should never have let you go. Not on your own.

Kíli paced through the makeshift campsite, worrying about you. It was well past sunrise and you still hadn’t returned.

There was a reason they scouted in pairs, him and his brother. Truth be told, it got them in trouble a few times because there were two of them, but still...

He should’ve gone with you.

His brother kept an eye on him from where he was sitting, but let him be.

Why didn’t he go with you? Kíli groaned in frustration, repeating the question over and over. His hands went through his hair like they had so many times in the past hour.

The others started gathering the supplies and their things, packing up to leave. When Kíli noticed this, he turned to his uncle.

“We’re leaving?”

“Aye,” Thorin answered.

Kíli couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “We can’t leave!”

“Kíli,” Thorin warned. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Fíli getting to his feet, ready to interfere if he needed to.

“But Y/N isn’t back yet!”

Kíli’s voice gets louder with each word, challenging his uncle. He couldn’t believe they were just going to abandon you like that! Thorin stood right in front of him with a few strides, his face inches from his.

“Don’t you think I haven’t noticed?” he hissed.

Kíli was about to say something he’d probably regret later, until he noticed the concern in his uncle’s eyes. He tried to hide it, but it was there.

“We’ll find her,” Thorin promised, before he resumed his packing.

Fíli placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re not the only one who is fond of her, brother,” he said. “Uncle feels responsible. He’s the one who sent her to scout in the first place.”

“Yes, but I should’ve gone-... Wait, what do you mean by that? I’m- I’m not…!” Kíli stuttered, trying to deny anything Fíli was implying, but horribly failing.

His brother just smiled at him, a playful twinkle in his eyes Kíli hadn’t seen in a while.

The Company trudged through the forest, trying to follow your trail but finding it hard to do so. You were a good scout, so it seemed. They had more trouble tracking your movements than they had anticipated, making their progress rather slow. A lot slower than Kíli had wanted.

He tried to calm himself by repeating over and over again that you knew how to fight, you knew how to defend yourself, you knew how to remain unseen.

You probably fell asleep in your hiding place or something, that was a very Y/N thing to do after all.

After an hour and still no sign of you, the silence among them became deafening. Eyes and ears were peeled for any sign of their missing scout, each of the dwarves’ worry growing with every step they took.

Kíli constantly had to fight the urge to call out your name. He didn’t know if they were going in the right direction, and what if you went back to camp only to find them gone?

Brown leaves crunched beneath their steps, a branch broke with a dry crack when he stepped on it, making him flinch.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and when he looked behind him, Fíli squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

“Stop worrying nadadith, we’ll find her,” he whispered. Kíli nodded in return, but couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong. (little brother, brother who is younger)

Their surroundings had changed, seeming to match the looming thoughts in his mind. It was no longer the calm, inviting forest it was this morning, almost comforting with the bright colours and the typical woodsy smell.

Instead there were thin trees which clung to mossy rocks, the footing made slippery by the dampness underfoot.

“There’s evidence of a struggle here,” Nori whispered, pointing towards the ground. “Orcs, most likely.”

They looked up at looming pieces of stone that seemed to have been piled by a careless giant, left as a testament to long-gone fun. The warm colours were gone, replaced with greys, dark greens and black. This whole place felt wrong.

Kíli’s head shot up when the snapping of branches could be heard in the distance, immediately scanning his surroundings. The others followed his example.

“Hide,” Thorin ordered.

They hid behind trees and rocks, waiting for what or whoever would emerge from the bushes.

Kíli would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed when two Orcs came out from the trees, he’d hoped to see you instead. Unharmed and happy to see him- them. Happy to see them; he shook his head, ignoring the questioning look his brother gave him.

He notched an arrow, ready to release it as soon as Thorin would give him the signal. But to his surprise Thorin signaled him to lower his bow, instead sending Bifur and Nori to take care of it.

The two of them had the Orcs thrown to the ground in seconds, ready to deliver the fatal blow, but before they could a different growl caught their attention.

The dwarves gasped at the sight that greeted them when they looked up.

Azog the Defiler stood on top of the piled rocks, his white warg at his side.

“What a lovely surprise….” he grinned.

Thorin growled at him, his hand clenched tightly around Orchrist’s hilt.

They could easily defeat him, he thought, seeing as there were more of them. No matter how badly Thorin wanted to slice his head off his shoulders, something stopped him from giving the order to charge. The pale Orc was too confident for his liking, he was hiding something.

Azog smirked. “Lost someone? A female perhaps?”

The members of the company shared a look, if Azog knew you were on your own…

Thorin seemed to think the exact same thing.

“Not that we’re aware of,” he answered.

Everyone could feel the tension rising, Nori and Bifur tightened their hold on the captured Orcs.

Azog raised his good hand and two other Orcs appeared next to him, holding something in between them. Or rather someone…

A few hushed curses could be heard among the company when they recognized their missing scout.

Thorin instinctively stepped forward when he saw it was you and Fíli and Dwalin had to grab Kíli to keep him from charging Azog by himself.

“So she doesn’t look familiar?” Azog taunted, smirking when he saw the reaction of the dwarves. He knew you were important to them, especially to the line of Durin according to their reaction and the prospect of hurting them through you made him feel triumphant. He was going to enjoy every minute of this.

“Get your filthy hands off of her!” Kíli yelled angrily, fighting against his brother and Dwalin. They struggled to keep him in line, he threw all his weight into it, begging them to let him go.

Azog only laughed menacingly in return, his cackle echoing off the rocks.

The company had no choice but to watch how they dragged you to the edge of the stonewall.

Your hands and feet were bound with a thick rope and your clothes had fresh tears in them. You had suffered a head wound, a trail of dried blood sticking to your forehead and cheek. No matter how much it hurt Kíli to see you like this, he was relieved to see you were awake and well enough to try and fight the Orcs.

“Y/N! Are you alright mimûna?”

“Does it LOOK like I’m alright to you?!” you yelled back, while you tried to fight the two Orcs who were holding you.

Kíli sighed in relief. You being snappy meant you were in fact more than okay. Probably pissed off because you got caught, and that reminded him of something.

“I hate to tell you this but… I TOLD YOU SO!”

The others stared at him. Was this seriously the time to start teasing her?

It seemed like you were thinking the exact same thing.

“This is seriously not the time or place for this, Kíli!!”

There was enough fire left in you and Kíli’s comment only fueled it, and you tried to push your weight against the Orc on your right in an attempt to wriggle free.

Their grip on your arms only tightened, and you gave up when they roughly forced you on your knees.

“Enough!” Azog growled and slapped you across the cheek.

The dwarves growled in response, their hands hovering over their weapons, itching to do something.

You gasped for air after Azog’s assault, your head was pounding but you tried to push through the pain. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of your suffering.

“The female in exchange for Thorin Oakenshield!” Azog snarled, and he gestured to you.

One of the orcs dragged your body to Azog, who in turn grabbed you by your neck and lifted you over the edge of the stonewall.

“Tick tock,” Azog challenged, watching you struggle and fight for air.

“Uncle!” Kíli shouted in alarm.

“What do you want us to do?” Fíli whisper-shouted at Thorin, waiting for instructions. He had a few ideas of his own, but he knew it wasn’t his call to make.

Thorin looked at Azog, then at you. Azog’s grip on your neck tightened, cutting off almost all of your air supply. There wasn’t much time left...

The rock wall wasn’t easy to climb and he didn’t dare think about what Azog would do to you as soon as they would try.

He was about to surrender himself, if only to buy more time, when he noticed something on Azog’s cheek. A fresh cut, unmistakingly your work.

He discreetly signaled in Iglishmêk to the others to get ready and to Kíli to ‘take the shot’.

Kíli looked at him questioningly, not understanding why his uncle would let him take the lead in saving you. Surely Dwalin or Fíli would be a better choice?

“I see she put up quite the fight,” Thorin began, gesturing towards Azog’s face. “You’re getting slower!”

Kíli suddenly understood what his uncle had meant, he was trying to distract the Orc so he could have a clear shot!

As soon as Azog’s attention shifted to Thorin, he grabbed his bow and notched an arrow in one fluent move.

He only needed a second to perfect his aim before he released the arrow, hitting Azog in the shoulder of his good arm, the one he was holding you with.

The Orc had to take a step back because of the impact and growled angrily, but it wasn’t enough. On the contrary, Azog only got angrier and his warg tried to bite your legs.

But Kíli wasn’t done yet, he already had a second arrow ready, he screamed Fíli’s name and let the arrow fly towards its goal.

Years of training together made sure Kíli didn’t have to specify what he wanted from his brother. Fíli understood immediately.

As soon as he heard his name, he grabbed the arm of the closest dwarf - which happened to be Bombur - and sprinted towards the rockwall.

Kíli’s second arrow hit Azog in the right side of his neck.

That was enough to loosen his grip on you and collapse. You felt yourself plummeting to the ground, with no time to brace yourself for the impact, too scared to even think about screaming.

Bombur and Fíli were just in time, leaping the last few metres so they could break your fall.

In the meantime Nori and Bifur took quick care of disposing the Orcs they were holding, and Kíli had a third arrow ready.

But it wasn’t necessary, the Orcs who held you before were helping Azog on his warg and hurried out of sight.

“Should we follow them?” Dwalin asked Thorin, Grasper and Keeper still in his hands.

Thorin shook his head. “We’ll get our chance soon enough, our day will come.”

Dwalin grumbled something about unfinished business but Thorin decided to ignore him.

His eyes fell on his youngest nephew. He still stood frozen in the exact same spot, bow tense, arrow notched. But his eyes were no longer fixed on the top of the rockwall, where Azog and his spawns had disappeared a few moments ago, but a few metres lower.

“Good work, Kíli,” he spoke, while he placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’m proud of you. You handled it well.”

In any other situation these words would be enough to make Kíli ecstatic, but now he barely gave any response.

Thorin lowered Kíli’s arm and that seemed to break his trance.

“It’s okay, you saved her,” he reassured him. “She’s alright.”

Kíli’s eyes flickered from his uncle’s face back towards the scene at the bottom of the rockwall. Fíli cut your ropes, while Bombur supported your torso. You were alive. You were okay. He saved you.

“I did,” he realized. “I saved her...”

The arrow and his bow went back where they belonged, in the quiver and strapped to his back. He was itching to join you, to see with his own eyes that you were okay.

Thorin smiled, knowing that look all too well.

“Go,” he said, and he nodded towards you, Bombur and Fíli.

Thorin didn’t have to tell him twice, and he hurried in your direction.

He fell on his knees beside you, and looked at his brother.

“How is she?”

You swapped his arm. “I’m right here, you know,” you croaked with a hoarse voice. “And I’m fine!”

“Your voice!” he gasped, hands flying to your face in a reflex to cup your cheeks but he caught himself just in time. This wasn’t a dream of his, it was reality.

“It’s because she was strangled, it won’t last,” Fíli explained.

Kíli growled.

It startled you for a second, not because you had never seen him so angry, but of what that low rumble did to you. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks. Perfect timing, Y/N, you groaned.

“O��n will take care of it,” his brother tried to reassure you both, misinterpreting your frustrated groan.

“I’ll go and fetch him,” Bombur said before he got up and ran over to the other members of the company.

Honestly, Kíli would never get used to the speed their corpulent companion could achieve with his tiny legs.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered, regaining his attention. You tried to get up, both Fíli and Kíli immediately got up to help you.

“What? Why?”

“I’m sorry I got caught,” you muttered softly, eyes focused on the ground.

Kíli pulled you in a big hug, squeezing all the air out of your lungs.

“Of all the things to apologize for,” he laughed, squeezing just a little harder before he let go. “It was not like you did it on purpose, mimûna. At least, I hope you didn’t!”

Oín and Thorin joined you, the seasoned healer wasted no time in checking you for any hidden injuries.

“Let’s take a look, shall we lass?”

Oín prodded and poked at your body, mentally listing the wounds that needed immediate treatment and the ones that could wait until they set up camp that night.

“So how did you find me?” you squeaked.

“Lass, I strongly advise you to try and keep the talking to a minimum for a few days. Your voice and throat needs time to recover,” Oín reprimanded you, his gentle experienced hands softly pressing the skin on your throat and neck.

“Ha!” Kíli laughed, “Impossible!”

“Kíli,” Thorin warned.

“Glad to see you’re back to your normal self, nadadith,” Fíli teased him.

You looked towards the youngest Durin, who suddenly thought the ground was extremely interesting.

“What do you mean?” you asked him, ignoring Oín’s stern look. The healer had turned his attention to your head, trying to see if you needed stitches for your head wound.

“He was beside himself with worry, this one,” Fíli smiled, ruffling Kíli’s hair. Kíli shoved him, but couldn’t help return the smile.

Oín reached a particularly sensitive spot on your head and you winced slightly.

Kíli’s eyes widened and a frown appeared. His hands instinctively flew towards you again before he kept them helplessly at his side.

“You were worried about me?” you croaked with a smile, trying to lighten the mood a little. You wanted to wipe that frown off his face and get rid of all the sudden serious tension. Just like the night before, you needed cheeky carefree Kíli. You desperately needed your Kíli.

His cheeks turned fiery red, and he anxiously rubbed his neck while trying to come up with an excuse.

“We all were,” Thorin came to his rescue.

Kíli threw him a grateful look.

“But Kíli most of all,” he added with the slightest hint of a smile, before he went back to the others. Thorin didn’t think he could endure another day with the mutual pining, so if he had to give a little nudge… why not.

“Is that true?”

“I- I mean… Yes-no, I was worried of course, but…” Kíli stammered, looking at his brother for help.

“He would’ve dragged Azog off the rockwall by himself if we’d let him,” Fíli mentioned.

You looked towards Kíli, who was shooting daggers at his brother.

“That would’ve been very stupid, Kíli!”

“But still heroic, right?”

“Oh yes, of course, very heroic… and stupid!”

“Lass, your voice,” Oín tried again, but he was silenced by Kíli.

“I still saved you, didn’t I?”

Oín and Fíli slowly retreated back to the company, leaving the two to their bantering. You didn’t have any life threatening injuries and you would be in good hands with Kíli for now.

“They’ll sort it out themselves,” Fíli said knowingly.

“Yes you did,” you said, your voice almost completely gone by now. “You saved me...”

Kíli placed his hands on your upper arms.

“That makes me the hero,” he stated.

“My hero,” you corrected. His eyes widened. Was he hearing you correctly?

“Your hero?”

You nodded.

“But you’ve never… I didn’t think- Oh now I’m actually relieved I was the one to save you!”

“Me too. Which reminds me, I still haven’t thanked you for being my hero.”

Kíli took a step closer, licking his lips.

“What did you have in mind?” The corner of his lip twitched before it turned into a smirk.

“Well maybe we could-”

“Oh, for the love of Mahal, just kiss already! We have places to be!” Dwalin yelled.

Kíli laughed and brought his hands to your cheeks.

“Let’s not disappoint our audience, shall we?” he grinned before he softly pressed his lips on yours, ignoring the cheers and hollering from the Company.

His wingmen.

Kíli taglist: @elles-writing

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje @kata1803 @entishramblings @artsywaterlily @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose @marvelschriss @kumqu4t @myrin1234 @dark-angel-is-back @the-fandoms-georgie

#kili x reader #kili #the hobbit #kili reader insert #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x reader #kili the dwarf #lotr #lord of the rings #lord of the rings x reader #lotr fanfiction #aidan turner

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trashcanfanfics · 3 years ago

Note

May I get a fanfic in Val’s POV where Valentino is in one of the worst moods he’s ever been in since nothing has been going his way correctly and he ends up lashing out in reader?(Im a sucker for angst) 🥲

There were a few more asks that I felt could fit into this so thats what I did! Also, friendly reminder, I write gender neutral! Hope you enjoy!

Valentino was pissed. Nothing was going right. Three actors were maimed, five more killed, and to top it off, Y/n wasn't at work or answering his texts. He had half a mind to march down there and demand why they didn't come to work. He missed them more than anything, really. Val thought that seeing them would definitely would change the whole day. That was before he remembered that he confessed while drunk. He decided to let them be, but he was irritated to say the least. He was losing money, afterall!

He gave up on trying to be the bigger person. Valentino was their boss, fisrt and foremost. He pulled out his phone and pulled up their contact. He'd call them.

The phone rang twice before a groggy "hello" answered. Val's anger raised. They ditched work to sleep in? Absolutely not. It doesn't matter how much he loves them, this was unacceptable.

"Y/n where the FUCK are you?" He was seeing red. Val was also slightly hurt. It seemed like they were avoiding him the last few days. Whenever he tried to talk to them, it seemed something else was in the way. Their breath caught in their throat. Fear. That was fear. They were scared of him. That didn't sit right in his mind and made his anger worsen, but this time, at himself.

"I'm sorry, Boss, I-" there was vicious coughing fit, "-I'm a lil' under the weather." There was more coughing. Guilt bubbled up in his chest. Of course they're sick. They've been looking awful for at least two days now. He can't believe he didn't notice sooner.

"It's alright, it's just been a stressful day today." They hummed back in tired underestanding. "Get some rest, babycakes." He hung up the phone and turned to the closest office person. Val informed them he would be out for the rest of the day and to contact his second in command to take care of whatever else was needed today. With that, he left.

~*~

Y/n's place was that little house Val murdered their stalker in. They appreciated not living in a run down apartment now, but was slightly confused as to how he got the house. He told them not to worry about it and enjoy their new space.

Upon entering the house, he took off his coat and hat, hanging them on the rack by the door. The furniture was replaced with lovely red and black walnut instead of that tacky white and bright makore it was before. He had let Y/n take over with his interior designer and decorators. They certainly had taste, just as he knew they did. The ceilings, he was pleased to notice, were now high enough that he could stand properly.

Val made it to the kitchen and opened up some cabinets, looking for some type of soup he could make for them. That's what people eat when they're sick, right? It's what Vox always made him when he wasn't feeling his best. When they weren't fighting or on a break. He found it weird that he didn't feel empty the way he used to when he broke up with Vox before. Maybe it's because he didn't have anything past platonic feelings for him now? Hm.

He found the soup and then went searching for a pot. The pot he pulled out was...very well used, to put it nicely. Val made a mental note to get them a new pots and pans set. Heating up the soup, he added a few extra seasonings to it to make it less bland. the next thing he found that needed replacing were their dish and silverware. How did they live like this? Their bowls and plates had chips in them, silverware with dents and scratches. Plastic cups from the second hand store? No wonder they got sick! He immediately went online and bought them new dishes.

He grabbed the bowl of soup in his bottom hands while grabbing a chipped mug (more replacements needed) and pouring some juice from the fridge into it. Putting the juice back, he handled both items in both sets of hands. He carefully made his way down the hall to the room.

Inside, he was greeted by Y/n's sleeping form. Their peaceful face made his heart melt. He gently placed the soup and drink down on the nightstand before gently shaking them awake. They snorted and sat up, immediately groaning, then held their head. A headache probably. Their eyes met his and widened.

"Bo-" They started coughing harshly. Val placed a hand on their back, rubbing up and down to help. His lower hands reached for the mug and brought it up to them. They looked at it when their coughing calmed down and then took it, taking a drink.

"How're you feeling, Y/n?" The question took them off guard. Had they expected him to be angry? The thought made the guilt from before rise up again.

"I'm...not the best." They looked down at the mug in their hands, gently rubbing the rim with their thumb. Val rubbed their back some more before grabbing the soup in his upper hands and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I heard soup can help with that." He smiled as he dipped the spoon into the soup. Val offered the filled spoon to them. They stared at it amoment before looking him in the eyes and taking the bite. Val's face erupted with a blush. Why did they have to do it like that? He looked away as his lower hands smoothed out the bedsheets near them. The thumping in his chest reminded him that he had drunkenly confessed just a few days ago and hasn't said anything about it to them since.

"...Val?" His breath hitched wheen he heard them say his name. He looked back at them. "Can I have more?" He just about died again. He quickly dipped the spoon back into the bowl and raised it back to their lips. Their...very soft looking lips. The way they wrapped around the spoon and took the soup with it. He was getting very hot and bothered. Oh no.

"How about I take that cup and you take the bowl, precious. I'll get you more juice." He stood, holding out the bowl with his upper arms while the lower ones reached for the mug. They let out a soft laugh and handed him the cup before grabbing the bowl. Both of their hands touched and Val swore it felt like fire raced across his skin. He squinted, awkwardness forgotten for a moment, and leaned down to place an unoccupied hand on their forehead. They had a fever!

"Uh...Boss?" Their face was red, probably from the fever. He removed his hand and hummed. Val left the room without a word and headed for the kitchen. He opened the fridge and picked up the jug of juice in his upper right hand, twisting the cap off with the upper left. As he was pouring the juice into the cup, he wondered what he wwould do about the confession thing. He capped the juice and put it away.

Back in the hallway right outside the bedroom door, he knew he had to tell them again. But sober this time. He entered the room and walked over to place down the mug. Y/n watched him, the bowl, empty, had been placed on the nightstand.

"Y/n, there's something I'd like to discuss with you." He sat down on the edge of the bed again as they went ridged. There's that fear again. He hated the way his chest hurt at the thought of them being afraid of him. "About a few days ago. When I was drunk." He wasn't looking at them, but heard their sigh as they relaxed. The ache in his chest eased a bit when he saw that from the corner of his eye.

"Yes...That." Their reply almost made the moth laugh. They felt just as awkward as he did over this. That made this easier somewhat.

"Yes, well, I meant what I said." He took a breath. "I love you, and that's the reason that Vox and I aren't together anymore. He called me out on my infatuation with you a while ago but I said it was just a passing thing and that I wanted to make things work between him an' me."

"So...You two are back together now, I'm confused by the continuity, here." Y/n's voice was hoarse. They cleared their throat as Val reached over to hand them their mug. They thanked him and took a swig.

"No. This time it's for good because I want to pursue you." He grabbed one of his antenae and scratched where the base and his head meet. A tic he'd picked up from Y/n. Though, they have hair that they run their fingers through instead. "I would like to become your lover." He finally met their eyes. They were staring blankly at him. His heart sank to the bottom of his stomach. They didn't feel the same.

"...You do know how...inappropriate this is right?" They ran their hand through their hair, undoing knots as they came across them. Val itched to help them with that. Even when their hair looks like a rat's nest, he imagined it'd feel soft. "If we were to be together, how would that look? I'm your employee, a porn actor. everyone'll see this as you taking advantage of me. How would that be for your reputation?"

"To hell with my reputation! I couldn't give less of a fuck. All I want is you! If it makes you feel better, I'll fire you, I'll make you co owner of the studios! Anything to have you beside me and share your existance with me."

"Boss-"

"To allow me to kiss you! To let me hold you! To let me wake up to you every morning and fall asleep with you every night!" He was waving all four hands and his lower ones reached out to hold them by the upper arms.

"Boss!" He didn't hear them, too caught up in his feelings.

"To share meals and experiences! To live with you and laugh with you!"

"Valentino!" This snapped him out of it. His upper hands were now gently holding their face. He enjoyed the warmth and how close they were. They let out a breath. "Calm down, I still have a headache." He immediately let go of them and scooted as far as he could from them.

"I-I'm sorry, precious, I don't know what came over me." He looked down at all four of his hands folded on his lap. They sighed and reached over to hold the bundle of hands.

"I do. You've got it bad." They huffed out in amusement, but their attempt at a joke made his heart sink further. "But, uh, I kinda got it bad too." These words made him whip his head back up to look at them.

"What...?" He could have slapped himself if he wasn't so focused on the next words to come out of their mouth.

"I love you, too, Valentino. I would love to be your partner." Those words made him grab them into his embrace and snuggle his head into the crook of their neck.

"That's wonderful, precious! I'll make you so happy, I promise!" He squeezed them tighter. They wheezed slightly.

"That's great and all, but," they wheezed again, "I'm still sick." Oops. He let go and stood up to take care of them thoughout the rest of their sickness.

The word after may have changed, but they wwill always be his favorite.

#hazbin hotel x reader #valentino x reader #trashcan answers you #babycakes

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utterlyinevitable · 3 years ago

Note

pb let me *redact* Tobias challenge 🥲

not me turning your tobias thirst asks into a 3-part mini series 😂🙈

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Becca Lao) x Tobias Carrick Rating: Teen+ Summary: Ethan’s still pissed at Becca for her Tobias stint when he was in the Amazon. What happens when the narcissist joins the team? Trope: Angst; Broke Up; Ethan’s POV; Fighting; Jealousy

A/N: the toxin plot didn’t happen in this universe btw.

Part 1 | Part 2

___________________________

Godly Sins: 3. Parting Wrath of Hera

That evening Tobias and Becca spoke late into the night about anything and everything. Well, everything that didn’t involve Ethan, June and hospital drama, nor their two brief wanton stints - truly getting to know one another and starting fresh.

As days and shifts and weekends rolled by, the sparkle they’ve shared began blooming into a friendship.

It was rather inevitable, really.

Two people who shared an indubitable attraction, forced to spend all their time together out of their boss’ sight - It was kismet.

Meanwhile, Ethan Ramsey had been ignoring them both for weeks outside of Diagnostic Team mandated functions - even then, interactions were brief and mediated by Harper. He’s been on edge since Tobias joined the team as Bloom’s nark, presumably. Or at least that’s what he told himself - convinced himself that nothing good could come from whatever this was.

Oh, how things go horribly, horribly sour.

Becca was sitting in the office waiting for the daily Diagnostics Team meeting to start, busying herself by scrolling through social media over eleven times in the last five minutes.

Steps away, Ethan sat at his desk, keeping a cold shoulder and looking over files he purposely keeps on his desk for awkward times just as these. The air between them stiff and stale, as heavy as it was months ago when they had their falling out. They should have acclimated to the unrelenting suffocation of being left alone together - the third shadow accompanying whatever was left of them.

But they hadn’t. Never really could once she realized Ethan would never forgive her for forming a survivalistic attachment to his biggest adversary. Rebecca Lao wasn’t going to let a man’s misplaced pride stifle her. So, she refuses to stroke his ego by hiding - even through the rancor of being alone with him, and the twangs that erupt when they’re this close. She’s not going to idly hover outside, biding time until Harper or Tobias or Naveen or a nurse, or anyone else enters the office first. She’ll sit and she’ll wait for work to begin.

And Ethan Ramsey will sit at his desk and pretend she’s not there. He’ll pretend he can’t smell her perfume, or hear the tapping of her nails to her phone or the heel to the floor as her leg jitters. He’ll pretend she’s nothing more than a ghost of the past lingering in the cornerstone of his conscious, like all the others. He’ll convince himself he’s angled away from her just enough to keep a peripheral eye on the door in case there’s an emergency, even if that line of vision is really just of her.

If Tobias noticed Ethan staring blankly ahead, he didn’t dare attempt to feign interest. The olive-skinned addition sauntered straight over to Becca, hands full and a thin, satisfied smile at home on his lips.

He set down a large coffee and sandwich wrapped in white paper in front of her. Ethan could just about read the stickered logo from where he sat. But he could see the undoubtable way Becca’s eyes lit up.

“Is this from...”

“The one and only,” Tobias had a cheeky grin - a kind of unbridled simper.

“That was fast.”

“Said I’d buy you breakfast, and I did.” He pulled out the chair closest to her and sat with his signature nonchalant grace. “Did you think I’m not a man of my word?” His hand was waving, palm up, towards the small feast before her.

“More like a flubber.”

Becca’s playful tone matched his in the most complimentary way.

Ethan caught the shining smile they shared - one that could only indicate an inside joke. One that could only mean they were spending too much time together. One that could only mean they were getting along.

Then Tobias plucked a strip of bacon off her sandwich.

And that was when something snapped in Dr. Ramsey.

They weren’t meant to be comfortable. They’re meant to suffer. That was the whole point of constantly pairing them together. These two flawed and moralless people were meant to be a punishment. Just for a while. Just until...

They made a house out of crushed stones.

They flipped the script on how this was meant to play out, and Ethan vehemently resented them for it.

As soon as Harper entered the office, Ethan bolted to his feet and rattled through the meeting. Swift, succinct and blinded by the need to be alone. Alone to plot what comes next.

He was gruffer with them for the rest of the day, and this time they noticed. The scorn seeped through Ethan’s characteristic distain like nuclear waste. Neither Becca or Tobias were guilty of whatever Ethan was holding them accountable for this time - a scapegoat for his repressed feelings. Then why did Becca feel guilty? She did nothing wrong - then or now. This is a natural progression to the seeds he sowed by banishing them.

Ethan will just have to live with the consequences.

***

The consequences came two weeks later. Powerful and damning and freezing Ethan in place, right in the middle of his office. Right in front of them.

Tobias and Becca were perched on the diagnostics’ couch. Becca’s hand is in his and he’s rubbing gentle circles of adoration to the soft skin. He didn’t stop his ministrations as the air around them, once a glorious heated serenity, now turned icy. The chill wafting through with the large presence of their past.

“I don’t want to know,” he grumbles as he pulls himself out of his stupor and storms towards his desk.

The words of her off-handed response were as hard as a lingering look into Medusa’s eyes. “Yes you do, Ethan. So ask.”

The contempt. The exasperation. The overall vile irksome in her tone… It was baiting him. She was baiting him to lose his temper. To acknowledge it all. Ethan didn’t mean to say his inner thoughts out loud, didn’t mean to revert on the divine separation he’s put between them all. And he certainly didn’t mean for her to mistake this moment as an olive branch. However decrepit it is.

Ethan didn’t ask. Just shakes his head and tries to fall back into his ignorance.

He hears the creak of the couch as the pair stand up and the shuffling of two people moving as one. Ethan’s trying so hard not to watch them - trying not to assess their every move and read too much into it. The pair move towards the door when he speaks -

An authoritative statement pegged directly at her. Eyes devoid of feeling, blue irises creeping down the Marianas trench.

“It is unethical to be involved with a colleague.”

Ethan Ramsey was foolish. Especially so to believe he could have the last word - the last victory of battle in the war he started. For Rebecca spun around with such purpose, the skirt of her dress catching on the wind. Her hands at her sides balling, sharp nails grazing palms.

A rueful snort escapes her, “Thought it was only unethical if there’s a power imbalance?”

She had him there. With the forced team democracy Tobias wasn’t technically a superior. Never mind that they aren’t together. Not really.

If he was a better man, Tobias would intervene and set the record straight. He’d position himself in the five feet between these two Edenbrook legacies instead of behind her. Watching. Decoding every tell tale in the tableau.

The way they were glaring at one another, well... The suspicion that floated as his reasoning to send the basket all those months ago was more than confirmed. And Tobias Carrick just realized what he’s just gotten himself into.

“There will be no fraternizing within my team,” Ethan’s voice strained to keep calm. Tried not to bellow the rule he’s kept in place when it comes to Rebecca Lao. His ears beginning to redden and the vein of his neck protruding.

Becca huffed a dry laugh, folded her arms across her chest and looked away. Towards Tobias.

In a few seconds many things happened. Becca’s eyes locked on Tobias, shooting him a look that could only mean one thing. Tobias smiled just for her. Ethan’s heart shattered. And Becca turned back to Ethan.

Her once copper eyes now almost entirely black. “Define fraternizing.”

That had Ethan sputtering and Tobias’ sly smile broadening.

“Because friendship is one thing,” she continued. “Sexual intercourse, another.”

That got a rise out of both men for very different reasons.

“Either way, the nature of my relationship with Tobias is none of your concern.”

They’re staring one another down. His sapphire eyes darker than she’s ever seen - all the hurt they’ve caused one another swirling between. Becca can feel the regret in the tension of his shoulders and the stiffness of his jaw. But for what, she doesn’t know - doesn’t want to. The longer she stands here, looking at him for the first time in months, she fears she’ll see every facet of pain she’s caused, and every reason to back down. And that’s too much to bear. Even after it all there’s still a part of her that loves him, always will.

She’s strong as stone before him, refusing to waver.

Tobias itches to say something, anything. Something that wouldn’t just cut through the tension...

“If it makes you feel better we’ll disclose to HR.”

Ethan’s neck could have snapped with the force of the swiftness as his head whipped towards his rival. Eyes narrowed and sizing Tobias up - decoding every subtext of the phrase. Every little bit of their unknown closeness.

With his steely gaze stuck on Tobias, Becca found the strength to pull away. Turned her back on Ethan and began walking out - not a single glance thrown back over her shoulder for either man. Tobias less than half a step behind her. Leaving Ethan with one final look.

As Ethan watched them walk out, he deflates. A knife stabbed straight to the heart he wasn’t sure he still had. Red blood that beat because of her.

For her.

Still.

***BONUS POV***

As soon as they were out of earshot, down the corridor and away from any lingering ears, Tobias spoke;

“Ever going to tell me what happened between you and Ramsey?”

“A mistake, apparently.”

He squeezed her hand and that’s all that was said on the subject.

______________________

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

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#open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #tobias carrick #tobias x mc

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itsamejin · 4 years ago

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goodbye || yoongi angst

Part 2

Summary: Yoongi watched silently as you exited the car and out of his life, but he can’t help but feel a sense of panic at the thought of you leaving him for good.

Warning: cursing, fighting (verbal)

Genre: angst

Premise: Yoongi drives off without you after a heated argument and now you’re gone.

Commission Request: @queenoftheuniverseandmyroom

Word Count: 3,434 words

—

Yoongi doesn’t quite remember when this heated conversation started or how it really ended either. He just recalls how furious you were leaving the restaurant you two had reserved weeks before for your anniversary and how he was left to clean up the mess. Wine was spilled onto the white table sheets and he had to pay the waiter extra for leaving in such a hurry.

Now here he was, driving silently with you sulking in the passenger seat. Even as he sat in the car, hands on the steering wheel, he couldn’t help but feel like you were the one driving with how closely you kept your eyes on the road. You glared at the view in front of you, paying him no attention. His throat itched to say something, anything to break this uncomfortable silence.

“Are you gonna stop being mad at me now?” he asks, annoyed with the little puffs of breathing you would make just to spite him. “Did you get it all out of your system yet?”

You had shouted in the restaurant, loud enough for the other patrons to hear and tense up at the sound of your voice. When the waiter had come to calm you down, you had stomped out of the restaurant.

He was sure the conversation started on the topic of you possibly adopting a new pet, but it somehow morphed into a whole debate about his bad habit of staying cooped up in his studio until the break of dawn. You wanted him to spend more time with you and he wanted you to be more understanding. It was the same old argument you two had, rehashed into a different day.

“Well you’re still being an asshole,” you start, rolling your eyes, “so I don’t want to fucking talk to you until you apologize.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. It always seemed to be his fault in situations like this and you always had to pout like a child to make him feel bad. He was getting sick of this- of trying to constantly figure out what you wanted from him. It’s like you two would try to communicate like all those other stable couples, but the wrong words would spill from your mouths each time.

“We didn’t even get to eat,” he mutters under his breath, slightly hoping that you would hear him just to piss you off even more. If you wanted to be grumpy the whole way through then he too could play that game.

“You’re such a dick you know that?” you sigh, shaking your head at his words.

“How could I not when that was all you were screaming about,” Yoongi replies as he rolls his eyes. He yielded at a stop sign, making sure to still abide by the law even though he was fuming with frustration. “You made a fucking scene and embarrassed the hell out of us.”

You scoffed. From what you remember, he was the one trying to escalate the argument when you calmly tried to convince him of getting a dog. It was a rescue- a St. Bernard that would make a mess from time to time, but you were fine with taking care of it by yourself. He had said no so quickly and a little too disdained that you switched the conversation to something more light-hearted. You asked him a day when he wouldn’t be too busy to go on a date and somehow that had pissed him off even more. To you, it felt like he hated the sight of you lately.

“I ask you for something simple. ‘Hey Yoongi, we haven’t seen each other in a while. Maybe we should go out more?’ But, no! You say the same fucking thing about focusing on your music like you haven’t been doing that for almost a decade. You’d think after three years of dating I’d be more of a priority by now...”

Yoongi grits his teeth. That’s not what he said back there and that’s clearly not what he meant either. He was frustrated that you changed the topic when clearly you two weren’t done discussing about the dog yet. He didn’t want to suddenly walk home one day and find some mutt lying on the apartment floor without his permission. You guilt-tripping him to go on a date with you so quickly after you demanded for a dog didn’t sit well with him either.

“It’s my job, you can’t ask me to just forget about my job just so we can go on dates with each other,” he sighs, attempting to calm his nerves by squeezing the steering wheel a bit tighter. “You know how sensitive I am about my work.”

You scoff in response.

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes. “I’ll always be the second choice. I know that by now Yoongi.”

Yoongi bit his lip and shook his head.

“You’re putting words in my mouth,” he says, exasperated. “I would never pin you and my work against each other-”

“And if you had to?” you ask menacingly. “If I fucking asked you right now if you would choose me over your music, what would you say?”

Yoongi sighs deeply. This was not the direction he wanted this conversation to go in and this was not the direction he was supposed to be taking the car either. He glares at the GPS as it reroutes, avoiding eye contact with you simultaneously.

“You know how fucking self-centered that question is,” he replies, venom laced in his voice. It felt like this conversation always comes back every few months, your words grating in the back of his mind until the next outburst would pop up. “I’m not gonna fucking answer. You know I’d actually really appreciate it if you would just get to the point and stop being a bitch.”

You scoff at him. There he goes again. When he was left speechless, he’d resort to calling you names and giving excuses. It didn't matter to you what the outcome would be, but you wanted to see this argument until the end.

“Yoongi, what is the point really?” you snide, crossing your arms over your chest as if forming a shield around you. “Is it how I said I wanted a dog because I was getting lonely at the apartment?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“You can get the fucking dog, I don’t care about the fucking dog [Y/N]-”

“Or is it how you ignored my calls when I had the flu so you can go drinking with your friends?”

“[Y/N] I literally apologized for that months ago, why the fuck-”

“Oh my god and how dare I ask for time with my boyfriend when I haven’t seen him properly in months, especially on our anniversary day!”

“You’re really pissing me off-”

“Or,” you raise your voice slightly, shifting in your seat as Yoongi slowed the pace of the car. “Was it when you accidentally called me while you were talking to Hoseok?”

Bingo.

Yoongi screeched the car to a stop. Your shared apartment was still miles away but he had stopped at a suburban block of townhouses to face you. His hands were shaking and he glared into the side of your head, beckoning for you to return his gaze. You refused, keeping the seat belt tightly against your chest as you stared at the night sky ahead of you.

“I said that when I was drunk,” he said slowly, intimidating you just a tad bit. “I thought we already went over this.”

You pursed your lips and shook your head, tears threatening to spill over your already puffy eyes.

“You can’t keep fucking saying ‘I apologized’ or ‘we went over this’ and expect me not to still feel hurt,” you say through trembling lips. “It doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Yoongi adjusted himself on the driver’s seat so that he was facing you.

“Is that why you’ve been mad at me?” he asked seriously. “It’s not because of the dog?”

You sighed out of frustration, throwing your hands in the air.

“It was never about me wanting a fucking dog, Yoongi!” you scream.

—

“Hoseok, can I tell you something?” you hear through a call from Yoongi that seemed more like a butt-dial the more you listened to his drunken voice. You kept trying to get a response from him, but it seemed like he was talking to someone else.

“Dude, you're fucking wasted,” you could hear the sound of his group-mate’s chuckle on the other side.

“No, like seriously,” Yoongi whined. “It’s about [Y/N].”

“Girl troubles?”

“Nah, she’s just being dumb lately,” you heard him mutter. A tiny part of you had felt hurt, but then again you two had argued a bit before he drank. You would complain about him similarly to your own friends, so you couldn’t really judge him for talking shit about you.

“What did you do this time?”

“It’s not me this time, bro,” he said through his laughter.

“Really? Then what the hell did she do?”

“That’s the thing,” Yoongi said, slurring his speech to the point that you could barely understand him. “She hasn’t done anything and I still fucking find her annoying.”

Now that one hurt. It was no secret that Yoongi and you were going through a rough patch in your relationship, but to hear him talk about it in so much detail with his friend made you nauseated. It was an extremely uncalled-for insult and you weren’t sure if the tears that streamed down your face fully conveyed the ache in your chest.

“Relax, bro,” Hoseok says reassuringly. “Don’t say anything you’re gonna end up regretting later.”

“No, but seriously,” Yoongi protested. “Her voice is so fucking irritating lately and, like, I’m not even sure if I really like her anymore, you know?”

You could feel your heart crumble at the spot. No matter how bad an argument got, statements like that always went too far. How was Yoongi able to spit it out so easily?

“Okay man, we need you to sober up,” Hoseok sighed. “You sound dumb as hell right now.”

“Hoseok, I want to break up with her so fucking bad,” Yoongi sighed through the phone. “But like it’s been so long I feel like I should just wait it out and see if she wants to end things first.”

You could hear something drop from the other line.

“And now you’re on the fucking floor,” you hear Hoseok mutter. “Dude I think you butt-dialed someone. Oh shit-”

You took the phone away from your ear, not wanting to hear Hoseok apologize for stuff your stupid boyfriend said. You hung up the phone and wiped away your tears. Yoongi didn’t love you and you didn’t know what hurt more- the fact that he could say it while intoxicated or that he didn’t have the guts to tell you sober.

—

“Whatever I said that night wasn't me,” he said, trying to get you to face him. “You know that. I said it when I was mad at you and mad at myself and I will never say it again. I swear.”

You refused to even take a glimpse at him, grabbing your purse from the car floor and clutching it to your torso.

“I love you [Y/N],” he pleads. “I said that shit because I needed to get it out of my system. Please, at least... just look at me.”

You shake your head as you wipe away a tear from your eye.

“I don’t want to look at you,” you whisper solemnly. “All I fucking asked for was some time together and you think I’m ruining your career.”

He closes his eyes out of frustration. By now he thought you’d know the consequences of dating an idol.

“Because our relationship will ruin my career [Y/N], what aren’t you getting?” he replies. “The more dates I go out with you, the more people that watch us- the more people that criticize what we have.”

“Would that be so bad?” you say, finally staring up at him, but avoiding eye-contact. His heart clenched at the sight of you in pain. “Would it hurt you so much that we’re seen together?”

He shook his head.

“You’re twisting my words, I never said that,” he sighs.

“If you want to say you’re ashamed of me then-”

“That’s not what I’m fucking saying!” Yoongi screams, grabbing onto your shoulders to face him fully. “This isn’t just about us. I’ll be affecting the lives of so many people in my company, but I choose to still be with you despite the consequences because I love you-”

You detach yourself from his reach as your cries get louder. It hurt to hear him speak.

“This isn’t love anymore Yoongi,” you whimper, your purse falling onto the floor as you tried to breathe through the sobs. “You said it yourself, you’re annoyed with my fucking voice.”

“I didn’t mean it,” he says softly, stroking your cheek as you looked down at your lap. “You know I love you. I tell you all the time.”

You pushed his hand away from your face and looked up at him in anger.

“Do you, Yoongi? When was the last time you showed that to me?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. Why do you keep asking these questions.

“I’m making enough money to support us. I buy you gifts all the time,” he replies. Yoongi feels that he must’ve said something wrong as you verbally cringed at his words. “I’m literally paying for the fucking apartment we live in right now. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t be doing all this for you to live a comfortable life!”

You scoff at his words. Clearly he thinks money solved all the issues in your relationship and that you should feel thankful for him being so “considerate”. You were sick with his reasoning, not really convinced that he even knew what you two were fighting about.

“Well how about this: I can’t fucking get a pet without asking for your permission; I can’t go out with you unless I wear something that conceals my identity; I can’t even fucking tell my friends or family that I’m in a relationship!” you scream as your sobs get louder and louder. “And I can’t even get you to spend some time with me without begging for your attention.”

His own tears had started to fall, staining the velvet seats of his car. You had looked so furious at the restaurant, but before him you were so very vulnerable. He can’t help but feel like he had broken you somehow. He realized then that he went too far- that maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut and let you air out your grievances.

“I’ll do better, I promise I will,” he says softly in an attempt to comfort you, patting your hair gently. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

You bring your hands to your eyes, crying into them as Yoongi tried to console you. It wasn’t working and you weren’t even sure if anything he could say would cheer you up at this point.

“I don’t even know you anymore, Yoongi,” you say between sobs.

“Yes you do,” he replies, albeit a bit aggressively. “Stop saying shit like that. You know me better than I know myself.”

You shake your head as you clicked out of the confines of the seat belt which suffocated you, but not as much as his touch was.

“We should have never gotten together,” you say harshly. “If dating you was just gonna end in me hating myself I would have much rather not known you existed.”

He blinked back from the harshness of your words. Where was this coming from?

“You don’t mean that,” he says softly. “I know you don’t mean that.”

You pursed your lips. He was making it so hard for you to leave and like always, he found a way to get you back into his arms with little difficulty. You always listened to him, always at his beck and call. It was tiring being in a relationship with you being the one at his mercy.

“I can’t do this anymore, Yoongi,” you say, pushing him away as you reach your hand out to open the door to the passenger car. “I can’t spend the rest of my life feeling like I’m not good enough to be with you.”

He holds onto your wrist before you do so.

“Just calm down,” he croaks. “Please.”

You shrug his arm off.

“I don’t want to,” you sob. “Just let me end this. Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to leave first so that you wouldn't have to feel like the shitty one in the end?”

An uncomfortable silence formed between you as your words echoed in his ear. No matter how many times he apologizes, it seems like you weren’t willing to forgive him.

“If you leave, I’m not coming to get you,” he seethes. “If you leave, that’s you telling me you’re giving up on us.”

The first time that night, you looked directly into his chocolate eyes and with a new sense of determination, you opened the door.

“Goodbye, Yoongi,” you say, exiting the car finally and walking away from his sight.

He didn’t even notice how you had hesitated, how you secretly wished for him to beg for you to stay- that he would finally learn his lesson and apologize the right way. Without excuses and without pinning the blame on you.

Instead, Yoongi opted to punch his steering wheel and let out a groan as the pain in his fist formed. Were relationships supposed to be this hard? Was he supposed to fight for you every time you tried to walk out of his life? He didn't know anymore. If you wanted to come back then you would, it shouldn’t always be up to him.

—

Yoongi made it home safely, parking in front of your shared apartment, looking from his car window to see if the lights were on.

They weren’t.

Yoongi heaved out a deep sigh and rubbed his forehead. You weren't home yet and it was the dead of the night. ‘You know what, whatever,’ he thought to himself, ‘it’s none of my business anymore.’

He had assumed you got a taxi ride back home, but obviously he was proven wrong when he walked into the dark apartment, cool from the lack of heating. He went through each room and you weren’t anywhere in sight. He sighed. Was this really it? Did your relationship just end because he wouldn't let you get that stupid dog?

He could hear you crying out to him that it wasn’t about the dog- that it was him who ruined the relationship. Yoongi ignored that voice in his head, in fear of guilt taking over his body.

Yoongi tried to quell his solemn thoughts with a few cans of beer on the lonely living room couch, but nothing really numbed the pain enough for him to stop visualizing your tear stained face. It was the way you looked at him so sadly, so full of disappointment. He used to be able to tell why you were sad, pinpoint the exact reasons, but now he wasn’t sure anymore. He opened the fridge, greeted by the anniversary cake you had baked for him just the night before. He cringed at the sight of it as it made him feel even more regretful with how the night’s events unfolded.

Yoongi didn’t take the cake out and closed the fridge door. He didn’t know why it took a well made cake for him to realize that it was fucking stupid to let you walk out by yourself all alone. He moved to grab his cellphone to hopefully apologize and end the argument, but alas no answer. He tried several times again and nothing. He grabbed the car keys from the kitchen counter and raced downstairs to his parked car. As he was about to start the engine, Yoongi saw from the corner of his eye that your phone was on the passenger seat.

It was fully drained of battery and the purse you were clutching so tightly just earlier was on the car floor. Immediately, panic had overcome his body and he banged his head on the steering wheel for how careless he had acted. You were missing and in a part of town that neither of you were familiar with. He groaned out of frustration, no longer angry at you but with himself.

“Why the fuck did I let her go?”

—

A/N: Finally getting around to finishing my commissions. Sorry for the delay @queenoftheuniverseandmyroom , but hopefully you like this first part! Thank you so much for your patience and for requesting something that I was really interested writing about. You are a *star*. I hate writing about arguments because they make me sad but I love the angst that comes with the aftermath LOL. Who do you side with more? Was Y/N too stubborn or was Yoongi too insensitive? Let me know!

PS. Currently working on it’s you part 2. I’m really busy with personal life stuff so please be patient with me. I love y'all <3

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ransomedrogue · 3 years ago

Text

Tales of Woe - Scenes from S1

well... this was taking forever so just gonna leave it here and say it’s done? as always, it ended up longer than intended, then I wasn’t going to include all the scenes then I thought well it’s all written anyhow so, may as well...

1.18

It seemed like ages until the scene was secure and documented; there was so much to deal with between the dead art thief and his house full of stolen treasures.

As usual, Weller was running the show so Jane had little to do except keep an eye on the irritating criminal who had gotten them all involved in the unlikely scheme. Which was enough of a task in itself, as Rich had started jabbering again, once he'd gotten over the shock of seeing the damaged painting.

"That was a pretty slick move you guys pulled off back there, even if it did almost destroy a priceless piece of art," he commented.

"All that silent communication, interpreting body language, talking with the eyes stuff, if you will. That is 100% my jam."

"Especially in the heat of the moment, with lives on the line. You two must have worked together a long time to read each other that well."

Jane flashed Rich the fiercest glare she could manage, while simultaneously checking around to see if Allie was within earshot. Although she knew he was just trying to rile them all up by getting underneath their skin, it was hard not to feel tense whenever he opened his mouth.

Even when she kind of liked what he was saying.

Jane shook her head mentally as she felt her stomach swim with conflicted emotions. She wanted what was best for Kurt, and Allie seemed to be a perfect fit. No matter how much it hurt to see another woman in his life, she knew it couldn't be her place. Not with everything she was hiding from him; all that she really was.

And yet she hadn't entirely hated Rich's commentary, said just loudly enough that she and Allie could overhear him at the doorway.

Tell me again why you're with Allie? When Jane's the one you look to first whenever anything goes wrong, or goes right for that matter?

Weller hadn't even denied it, and that was another thing altogether.

"You realize you do it too, right?"

Jane snapped out of her reverie and turned her head back towards Rich, doing her best to appear uninterested in whatever he was about to say.

"You're always watching him, checking in. Like he's your responsibility."

"I mean, I get it. You're like partners and all. That intense bond between cops, that's actually one of my fetishes, unlikely as it might seem…"

"Shut up, Rich," Jane growled, unwilling to let him go any further into his thought.

Of course she didn't bother to tell him that they weren't partners in any sense of the word and had not been working together for long at all. Especially not when they'd first encountered the mouthy criminal, when they'd supposedly had so much chemistry.

It was true though. No matter how much she'd tried to shrug it off, she'd felt it. The way he touched her; even back then. It had seemed so easy, and right. Just like how they did look to each other first, whenever something happened.

She'd never even questioned it, the way in which she and Weller worked so perfectly in sync. It had just always been the way between them, even way back at the start when he'd trusted in her abilities more than she did.

"Okay, okay, sorry, I just thought it'd be a good chance to put it out there, seeing as how you're definitely not pining over Stubbles, and we have some chemistry too. I mean not like the way it is between you two of course. But if he's not willing to see what he has, then…"

"Rich!"

Allie was walking by and gave him a solid death stare before closing her eyes tiredly and striding away. Jane exhaled irritably in Rich's ear, hoping it would at least keep him quiet until the Marshal was out of earshot again.

"She looks like she has a headache," Rich mused. "She should probably get that checked out; you should see the studies on concussions coming out these days. I mean I'd be pretty worried if my girlfriend got knocked out like that."

Jane frowned, both in concern at Allie's head and at Rich's implication. Weller had checked on Allie right away, as soon as he could. But then she thought about the conversation that had followed, where Allie had said she was seeing two of him.

At the time Jane had just assumed it was mostly a joke, a way to shrug off the injury. It was something she would do herself, in an attempt to throw off Weller's overprotectiveness.

But then Kurt had taken Allie at her word and had gotten right back to work. He hadn't even demanded that she get checked out by a doctor, or tried to tell her to rest while he dealt with the scene.

Jane couldn't help but remember all the times she'd been forced into the medical room by him, after taking much smaller hits than the one that had left Allie unconscious. Maybe Weller just felt he couldn't tell Allie what to do because she worked for another agency and wasn't under his command. And yet she knew that wasn't it.

"I'm sure Allie's fine," Jane said, scowling in an attempt to deter any more comments.

Rich nodded sagely, as if agreeing with her. But of course he still didn't shut up.

"I'm sure she is," he mused. "I mean, Weller's her man and he doesn't seem worried at all."

Of course both Weller and Allie came within hearing range at that moment, making Jane close her eyes in dismay. No matter what she did, Rich's non-stop commentary wouldn't stop.

"I'm sure he'd be just the same if you were showing obvious signs of brain trauma."

Jane groaned inwardly as Kurt stepped closer and frowned at Rich's words, before turning towards her and looking into her eyes carefully.

"Did you take a hit I didn't see?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine," Jane sighed. "He's just going on about nothing again."

But of course Rich nudged her with his elbow and raised his eyebrows suggestively as Allie stepped up beside them. And still Kurt's eyes remained on Jane for a long pause before finally accepting that she really was okay.

"Let's get back to the NYO," Weller finally said, sounding annoyed at the situation in general.

"We need to figure out what to do about the damaged painting"

Jane exhaled in relief, glad to get away from the irritation of babysitting Rich. He seemed determined to screw with their heads, and their hearts. And, despite the little twinge of joy she got from hearing the mouthy criminal go on about how she and Kurt should be together, Jane knew that it was wrong. She hated the idea of breaking up Weller's relationship, especially because Oscar had tasked her with just that. Kurt deserved to have someone that was as great as Allie seemed to be; someone who could make him happy.

She had to find a way to tell him.

Even if it ended up being as awkward as it played out in her head.

###

Allie Knight walked out of the conference room at the NYO, fuming on so many levels. Getting played by Rich Dotcom after agreeing to his wild scheme and dealing with his 'insightful' comments all day was already making her a little crazy. And then there was Kurt.

He'd been pissing her off since that morning. The worst part was he was completely oblivious to it; had no idea he'd done anything wrong.

Which in turn made her even more mad. And maybe a little bit sad.

It had been going so well, or so she had thought. He'd even invited her to meet his dad, an unbelievable occurrence in more than one way.

But you knew, Allie told herself. You asked and he answered.

What's the deal between you and Jane?

That is not what this is about.

But obviously it was, even if he somehow couldn't see it.

She couldn't even be pissed off at Jane, who seemed to be doing everything she could to stay out of their relationship. Surprisingly, Allie actually kind of liked the other woman, despite her obvious effect on Kurt.

But the way he looked at her and acted around her. That wasn't the Kurt Weller Allie knew. That was some other man, full of emotion and a softness she didn't recognize at all.

Their relationship was still mostly based on mental and physical release; which was why the invitation to family dinner had seemed like a big step. But even though she'd come over and met his dad, Allie had always had the sense that she'd never really know all of him. Weller would always be that guy with her; good-hearted and fun but emotionally guarded. Yet it was obvious that he wasn't like that with Jane.

She could feel him walking out of the room just behind her and knew it was time to make a choice. He'd shown his hand, with far too many tells.

When she'd walked in on them that morning, it wasn't so much that Jane was hugging him. It was that Kurt had let himself be so emotionally vulnerable in front of her; crying while letting himself be held. And it had been pretty clear that they would have been there for awhile if she hadn't interrupted.

If she'd hugged him, of course he would have accepted it too. But a little stiffly and definitely with dry eyes; as if trying not to take too much comfort from it. He would have been her Kurt, so desperate to remain in control of his feelings that he buried them deep and pretended they weren't there.

Allie sighed, knowing what she had to do and yet still a little reluctant to let go. It had already been a shit day, right from that awkward moment in the locker room onwards. Goddamned Rich and his stupid escapades and his never-ending spiel of comments.

She was pissed at herself for letting him win, both in his plot and in his head games. But Allie had to admit he'd really only vocalized what had been itching at her the entire time. Kurt did look to Jane first, and worry about her more than anyone else. It was impossible not to see when around them.

"All right, so we gonna wash the day away with some nice scotch?" Weller asked.

Allie turned and swallowed back the last of her regret.

"I think I'm gonna pass," she replied.

"Why?" Kurt asked, reaching out for her.

"Hang on."

Allie sighed internally as she stopped and faced him. He really had no idea.

"Because of what Rich said on the roof?" Weller asked.

"He was just trying to throw us all off balance."

"It's not about what he said, all right. It's about what I saw," Allie retorted, feeling all of her annoyance ball up in her throat.

"And what'd you see?"

Did he really not understand how it looked from the outside? Especially to the people who knew him the best. Or even to the criminal who'd only met them twice.

"That there's something between you and Jane, okay?" Allie stated.

"I don't know what it is, and I don't know if you know what it is. But don't make me feel crazy by pretending it's not there."

To his credit, Weller didn't try and argue. Just stood there dumbstruck as Allie declared that she needed some space and strode off before the sadness kicked in.

Walking away, she felt both lighter and heavier all at once.

Even if he didn't know it, she'd confirmed that day what she'd always suspected - that she'd never have all of his heart. It was entirely possible he was lying to himself about how he felt; she knew those Kurt Weller walls and his ability to burrow behind them. But she couldn't lie to herself anymore.

So she wasn't going to let him hide behind her anymore, use her as a way to avoid the truth that they all could see. He was in love with Jane and couldn't keep his eyes off of her. Even if he couldn't admit it to himself.

It stung a little but not as much as Allie thought. Every step forward in their relationship had been a struggle, and now she understood why. Seeing him with Jane was like being around a different man.

Now it was just time for both of them to accept it and move on.

###

"I don't know what it is, and I don't know if you know what it is. But don't make me feel crazy by pretending it's not there."

He hadn't denied it because she was right of course. Well, and also because he'd been a bit stunned; somehow hadn't seen it coming at all. Even after dealing Rich's comments all day, Weller thought Allie's skin would have been thicker. But then her words sank in and he forced himself to actually look at his behaviour.

What Kurt realized was he'd been doing his best to pretend that none of it existed. All the ways Jane made him feel, every time he looked to her first. After he'd declared her off limits in his own mind, he'd tried so hard to treat her the same as everyone else. And obviously failed miserably at it, as pointed out by the annoyingly observant Rich Dotcom.

So Weller hadn't examined what it was, or put words to it. But, then again, it wasn't like he didn't know. Jane made him feel things that were entirely new, all the time. The emotions he'd gone through in the relatively short while that she'd been in his life were so intense, sometimes he was completely overwhelmed by them.

Kurt watched Allie walk away, feeling bad about the situation in various ways. He thought he'd been successfully avoiding the mistakes of the past with her. But he knew she was right too. He wasn't being honest with himself or with her.

Weller walked down the hall in a daze, angry and sad and everything in between. They'd gotten played by a smart-mouthed crook and then he'd gotten dumped. Oh, and his dad was dying.

He really needed that scotch.

"Hey, are you okay?"

His neck tingled at the sound of her voice and his head snapped up to meet concerned eyes.

"Fine," Weller deflected, feeling his heart rate start to amp up. She'd caused him so much stress that day and yet none of it was her fault at all.

"Um, I'm sorry about today," Jane said, a bit timidly. "I wish he would have just shut up."

He shook his head, having had the same thought the entire mission. He would have given anything to close the whole thing down and send the mouthy criminal back to maximum security. But he also couldn't get Rich's words out of his head.

"Tell me again why you're not with Jane?"

"Some would say it means that you're more worried/excited about her."

"Life's too short, Jane. Follow your heart. Tell Weller how you feel."

Now though, the irritation at having a criminal comment far too astutely on his love life had mostly seeped out. But that meant Kurt was just left standing there with the obvious truth in Rich's words still ringing in his mind; all while Jane was standing in front of him looking too worried for his liking.

How did she feel?

And why did his heart thump even harder just at the thought?

"He was just trying to mess with us," Weller said. "Don't worry about it."

"None of this is your fault."

Jane's expression lost a little of that guilty edge, and she offered him a small smile, as if she was trying her best to believe him.

He wanted to deflect her attention from that line of thought, trying to put it out of his own head too. Searching for another topic to focus on, his mind traitorously turned back to that morning, where he'd broken down in front of her and found himself crying in her arms.

The comfort he'd found within them had been immediate and somehow familiar; even though he normally felt awkward accepting hugs. Even now he was somehow okay with how much emotion he'd shown her and how soothing it had felt to be held by her.

He wanted that comfort right now too, for her to hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay. Of course he didn't give in to that inclination but it gave him an inspiration; a way to distract both of them from the day they'd just had.

"Hey, I'm about to head to the hospital to see my dad. Do you want to come?"

Jane's eyes lit up at the idea, like she was so happy to be able to do something for him. And Weller couldn't deny how it felt in his chest, seeing a shy hopeful grin tug at her lips as she nodded eagerly.

He hated that Rich was right. He did look to her first.

And it seemed like the entire world already knew why.

###

The entire day had been so incredibly awkward. Yet slipping her hand into his and tucking their fingers together felt so normal and comforting. And when Weller returned her tentative squeeze with a more forceful one, Jane finally remembered to breathe.

For a long moment they just stood there silently, and Jane could see that Kurt was doing his best to contain his emotions but they continued to spill out. He'd been so thankful to her for visiting his dad, which felt good in a way. But then there was the lie.

She felt so guilty. And yet, the little lie had made him so happy. The look on his face when she said she'd remembered. It broke her heart.

So there she was, standing there with his hand in hers, wishing she never had to let go. That he could be hers.

Tell Weller how you feel.

There was so much she wanted to tell him that she couldn't. Especially now, when he was with Allie and his dad was dying. What would she tell him anyways? That she had plotted all this, planted herself in his life and had known it for weeks now but not told him. Oh and I'm in love with you, that too.

She'd tried to tell him just the opposite, in the most awkward way she could come up with. She still cringed thinking about it.

So Jane just stayed silent until Kurt let go and started to set up an emotional wall.

"I should take you home," he said, staring at his feet.

"You can stay, I can make my own way back," she said, sensing he was on the verge of something he didn't want to share.

"No, I don't want…" he stammered.

"It's hard to be here alone and he's going to be out for awhile now."

She wanted to reach for him again but held back. He wasn't hers, she had to remember that.

"Okay, let's go then," Jane said.

Weller was distant, a little lost looking on the way back to the car. She wondered what he was thinking about, if he wanted to talk about it.

He isn't yours she reminded herself again. He had someone to talk to if he needed to.

And yet when they sat in the car and he was still so quiet, it was all she could do not to physically reach for him. He kept glancing over but didn't say anything, and she couldn't think of anything that didn't sound trite.

When they got to her safe house, he insisted on seeing her in even though she told him it wasn't necessary. At the door, she turned and he was giving her an undefinable look.

"Are you going to be okay?"

Weller turned his head quickly, wearing that same sad frown that made him look so vulnerable. But then he reshaped his features, attempting a small smile but not quite succeeding.

"Yeah, it's just been a long day, and not a very good one," he muttered.

"I know… I'm sorry," she started, feeling the need to apologize for everything going so wrong at the penthouse party.

"No, you did everything you could," he said. "We should have never let him set any of this up."

He shook his head and looked so weary.

"It's just been hard. I messed it all up. I should… I need… "

Weller sputtered a bit, losing his words again. And just the same as that morning, Jane instinctively reached for him, wrapping her arms around him.

He was shuddering a little and she pulled him close, wishing she really could tell him how she felt. Instead, she was just offering him some comfort, for whatever his unspoken need might be.

After awhile she realized he was crying into her shoulder, at about the same time he came to that realization as well.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to…"

"Shhh, it's okay," she soothed. "You can let it out, I won't tell anyone."

He laughed against her, then cried some more. And Jane had to admit she wanted nothing else than to keep on holding him, telling him everything was alright.

So for that moment at least, she did.

I love you Kurt Weller, she thought. And I want to hold onto you forever.

That's what Rich would want me to say.

#blindspot #blindspot fanfic #blindspot rewatch #s1fic #i wrote this

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refinedbuffoonery · 4 years ago

Note

Hey love 🌸 I was wondering if you could write a story which would occur after Jack's potential death where Riley decides to get Kovac by herself using her hacking skills with no backup? On the Macriley front, Mac would certainly be pissed that she goes by her own and that he could potentially lost yet again a member of his family and Riley might have the exact same thought process to not include him. Though getting K doesn't change the guilt that Jack wouldn't have had to die if he had had help

So this isn’t really what you asked for, mainly because I’m too lazy to do a whole episode rewrite. It’s the same feelings but reformatted as more post- 5x05 angst. I think you’ll like it though. Fair warning: this one hurts way more than the previous 5x05 angst from Riley’s POV.

*****

Mac has never been afraid of Riley before.

He’s seen her angry and upset before, but the rage-filled woman he’d stopped from killing Vitez with her bare hands is someone he’s never seen before.

The frightening part is that Riley isn’t a hot-headed person. In work mode, she’s cold and calculating, and for her to go after Vitez like that...something inside her snapped.

Every time he looks at her now, Mac remembers holding Riley back, fingers digging sharply into her waist until she stopped fighting him. He sees the fury radiating off Riley’s body like heat waves off asphalt—sees the way she clings to it, finds purpose in it, letting it consume her so there’s no room for guilt or grief.

Mac knows the feeling all too well. And he also knows there will be a very loud thud when she finally comes crashing back down.

But he also knows that the woman is like a loaded gun, safety off and itching to hit something.

Which is why he worries when Matty calls them in for an op and Riley isn’t there. She’s at Vitez’s trial, Matty informs them, but that doesn’t make Mac feel any better. This new Riley is obsessively vengeful, and if someone doesn’t reel her back in soon, Mac is afraid Riley might do something she can’t come back from.

After the op, Mac drives to Riley’s apartment. Upon arrival, his ears are assaulted by Riley’s upstairs neighbor blasting Macklemore’s greatest hits. Mac hears the lyrics clear as day, even though both his truck windows and the apartment windows are closed. The music is just that loud. Riley really shouldn’t have moved out of Mac’s house, not if this was her best option.

The GTO is missing. Riley should be back from the trial by now, but Mac has a sneaking suspicion where she went.

The drive to Jack’s apartment seems to take forever. The brick building sits in an older neighborhood, one of few affordable ones with trees planted along the sidewalks—a luxury in LA. Sure enough, the GTO is parked on the curb, not far from the fire escape that connects to Jack’s living room. Mac looks up and sees a familiar body perched on the stairs.

He finds Riley sitting on the fire escape, soaking in the last rays of sunlight. Her eyes are closed, and her head rests against the brick wall. Mac doesn’t say anything as he sits beside her on the narrow metal stairs, their hips and thighs just touching. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Should he hug Riley? Hold her hand? Leave her alone? She’s not a super touchy person. Mac decides on the latter, picking at his fingernails while his gaze drifts west to study the sunset.

Several minutes pass before Riley speaks. “Hey,” she offers. Her voice is low and scratchy, like she’s been crying.

“Hey,” Mac repeats. “How long have you been here?”

Riley shifts beside him, sitting up. “I don’t know. A while.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve come here, is it?”

A sigh. “No, it’s not.” Mac figures as much. Aside from the constant clamor of the city, Jack’s apartment is relatively quiet. It’s not in the greatest neighborhood, but it’s safe enough for Riley to sit alone and think. Or not think. Whatever she feels like doing.

Riley rests her head on Mac’s shoulder, and a wave of protectiveness floods his system. It’s new, this need to watch her back more than the others’. It came on so gradually that Mac doesn’t know when it started or what triggered it, only that he feels it all the time now. Especially after Jack’s…

He avoids examining the feeling too closely.

Without warning, Riley says, “If you hadn’t held me back, I would’ve killed her.”

Knowing exactly who she’s talking about, Mac glances down at Riley in surprise. He knows it's true—thought so himself—but hearing it come out of her mouth makes his stomach turn. The last, and only, time Riley killed someone...it took her months to piece herself back together afterward. And that death was in self-defense.

This one would’ve been murder. Intentional and vindictive.

Mac isn’t sure Riley could come back from that, at least not as herself. No, the woman who would emerge from that would be a total stranger inside his best friend’s body. Mac suppresses a shiver.

“I know,” he says.

“Thank you for stopping me.” Riley’s voice is quiet. So, so quiet.

“You would’ve done the same for me.” Gingerly, Mac wraps his arm around Riley’s shoulders, ready to let go at the first sign of her discomfort. When she doesn’t react, he relaxes and holds her more surely.

The sky is painted in vibrant oranges and reds, fading into deep blue overhead. Subtle strokes of pink outline the scattered clouds hanging above the horizon. Out of all the sunsets Mac has seen, all over the world, nothing quite compares to the ones here at home. He wishes Jack was here to see it.

Mac spends far too long debating whether to bring it up before asking, “Why did you go to the trial?” Agents, especially secret ones, don’t go to trials, mostly to keep their identities safe. Publicly tying oneself to a case is never a good idea, for more reasons that Mac can begin to name.

“I swore I’d be there every step of the way. I meant it.” Mac tries not to bristle at the snarling, defensive edge to Riley’s tone. “Eventually, she’ll make a mistake, and I will be there when she does. And then I’m going to rip out her entire organization from the roots up.”

Fear wraps its ugly hand around Mac’s heart. Until every single person associated with Kovac is behind bars, there will be a target on Riley’s back, and Riley will have put it there herself. Losing one person to Kovac is more than enough; Mac refuses to lose Riley too.

“How can I help you?”

Riley looks up, eyes wide like she was expecting him to try to talk her out of it, not offer to help. “You don’t have to do that.”

“And miss out on all the fun?” Mac almost smiles as he quotes her. Almost.

She sits up. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m going to hack Interpol first, to see which of her colleagues might also be dirty. So unless you secretly picked up hacking…”

Mac huffs. “Sorry, I only hack hardware.” He expected some insane, crackhead plan, not something so…reasonable. Maybe Riley isn’t as off-the-rails as he thought.

But only maybe.

A seagull perches on the railing below them, honking and squawking for seemingly no reason at all. Gulls are just like that. It glares at Mac, pinning him to his spot with a beady yellow eye, challenging Mac to shoo it away.

Go find some tourists to harass, Mac wants to snark at it. Leave us alone.

The seagull cocks its head, as if to say, I know something you don’t.

Mac narrows his eyes. I bet you do.

He swears the seagull shrugs before taking off, flying low over the GTO before sailing over rooftops on its way back to the ocean. It passes a billboard advertising a new blockbuster spy thriller, the product of millions of dollars and Hollywood plot recycling. Mac’s seen the trailer. The movie is about a soldier who comes home and joins the CIA in a quest for retribution after his best friend comes home in a box. Usually Mac likes watching spy movies—mostly to make fun of them—but this one hits a little too close to home.

It takes a monumental effort to tear his gaze away.

When his eyes finally meet Riley’s, Mac understands the silent ache in them—the ache that’s surely reflected in his own eyes. He and Riley are drowning, but at least they’re drowning together. Mac frowns. That must be the dimmest “on the bright side” thought he’s ever had.

Riley doesn’t say anything more, so neither does Mac. They sit on the fire escape until long after the sun sets and the temperature drops, and the city's nightlife stretches its limbs as it wakes. Mac shivers, but Riley seems oddly unaffected by the cold. That or she’s too numb to notice.

He threads his still semi-warm fingers through her icy ones, letting their joined hands rest on his knee. It seems like his last tether to the Riley he knows and loves, one who’s slowly slipping away from him and being replaced by a woman who might very well bring the world to its knees as payback for all that it’s done to her.

Mac has no interest in ever meeting that woman. Mostly because he refuses to lose his Riley, but also because Mac knows he won’t be able to resist that other Riley. She will slash his restraint beyond repair, and Mac would follow her to the ends of the earth.

He’ll find a way to keep them both afloat. He has to.

Or else the Phoenix may very well be hunting him and Riley again, and this time, they’d deserve it.

#beth writes #macgyver #macriley #drabble #I'M SORRY

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headinthestaticsky · 3 years ago

Text

Sanctuary with the Enthralling Moon: Jasper Hale x Fleur Swan, Chapter 3

Authors notes: I’ve been listening to a lot more of Bank’s music (The girl in the picture) and I’ve become obsessed with her music again... Listen to her Album “Goddess.” if you like R&B and some Trip hop it’s great! My personal favorites on there is “Before I Ever Met You” and “Bedroom Walls” but all the songs on there are great.

Another note: I changed the plot up for New Moon, so I hope it doesn’t ruin anything for you guys.

All rights go to Stephenie Meyer for the characters she created.

“She lives in daydreams with me

She's the first one that I see

And I don't know why

I don’t know who she is.”

She by, Harry Styles

The annoying buzz of my phone woke me up, it had been buzzing so long that it had fallen to the floor. When I picked it up, I answered not looking at the number.

“Ugh... it’s way to early in the morning for phone calls who is this?”

“How did you find me?”

“Jasper? What are you talking about.”

“I saw you... you where across the street from me, looking at me. You were in a white night grown.”

“Jasper... I haven’t left Forks at all.”

“H-how did I see you then?”

“I’m not sure love, I promise though... I haven’t left.”

The line went silent, neither of us knew what to say.

“So... what are you doing at your new place?”

“Well, I started attending a local college, I’m studying philosophy. Carlisle got a job at night.”

“Oh.”

“What about you? What’re you doing?”

“Oh, I’ve decided to take a year off of school. I’ve been writing stuff, painting... it’s been nice. You should see this latest painting I made, it’s massive... I’ll send you a picture when it’s done.”

“It sounds grand...It nice to hear your voice again.”

“Yeah... it’s nice to hear your voice too. You know I was thinking... going to a creative arts school sounds really good to me right now...”

“You should do it, I’ve seen some of your work... it’s incredible.”

“Thanks love... Hey, I was meaning to ask you this in the morning but, have you heard from Edward?”

“No, he isn’t living with us.”

“Well, his bright idea of breaking up with Bella was to leave her in the woods... alone... AT NIGHT. For a vampire, Edward is the biggest dumb ass I have ever met in my entire life.”

“Wow... I don’t even know what to say... How is Bella?”

“She’s a manic depressive mess, she hasn’t left her room since she got back from the woods.”

“She hasn’t talked to you at all?”

“No, she just stares out of her window... but when she does look at me she gives me looks that aren’t exactly inviting either... She still pretty much hates my guts. I don’t know what she has to be pissed off at me about I’m the one who should be giving her death glares.”

“I don’t either...”

“I still don’t want her to be like this, she’s looking bad Jazz... it’s kinda scary.”

“Listen, I gotta go, you need some sleep... I’ll talk to you later one today... I better get my photo.” Jasper demanded playfully.

“I shall deliver my love, talk to you later.”

“Love you darlin.”

“Love you too.” I hung up a second later.

It was strange... Jasper had exactly described what had happened in my dream. I didn’t recognize the area, it looked remote though. It was confusing really, how my dreams to seem to have a power in some way. I didn’t know how though, I was a human.... nothing more than human. The Cullens seemed to be following the same pattern they did here. The area being small and remote and full of woods and cloudy. Before I faded off to sleep I thought of what I could do the next day... I could visit Leah, it had been so long since I’ve seen her. I’d have to thank Sam for getting Bella out of the woods too.

Morning had come, I felt exhausted but, I knew I couldn’t stay in the house. I had to get out, it was good for me. My painting would have to wait for it’s completion. I pulled out a tight, light grey turtle neck, black skirt, and stockings since it was probably freezing outside. I went downstairs, a huge smile was plastered on my face. For some reason, it was the happiest I had ever been these past 2 days.

“What’s got you so happy this morning?” Dad asked.

I looked around, making sure Bella wasn’t in the room.

“I got a call from Jasper... it was nice. He told me started going to college this year.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Did he say how the family is doing?”

“Oh yeah, they’re good but a bit tired. Carlisle got a job but it’s at night so his sleeping schedule is all messed up.”

“Oh yeah working nights, that’s rough.”

“Hey dad, does Harry Clearwater still live at the same address?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I was wanting to see his daughter Leah, I haven’t seen her since I was a kid.”

“That’s sounds like a great idea... have some balance between Jasper and your friends.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good for me.”

“Did you hear everything that happened last night?”

“No... what happened?”

“Bella was screaming at the top of her lungs in her sleep...”

“Oh my god... that’s horrible.”

“I’m thinking about sending her back to live with her mother... she’s scaring the hell out of me.”

“It sounds like a good idea in theory dad but... I don’t she’ll leave willingly.”

“I can try, she’s in a lot of pain right now... maybe seeing her mother will help her out.”

“Maybe...”

“You better get going, the drive is kinda long down to Harry’s.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later dad, love you.”

“Love you too.”

Driving down to Harry’s house had brought back memories, just like the drive down to La Push. Hopefully this time, it would go better than last time. As soon as I pulled up Harry had come out of the house, a huge smile was on his face.

“Well look who it is, Fleur Swan... I can recognize that car from anywhere.”

“Good to see you again Harry, thank you again for helping us find Bella.”

“No problem, I’d help with dad out with anything.”

“Dad? Who are you talking to out?”

“Leah, hey... it’s been a while.”

“Fleur? Is that you? The same girl I use to push in the freezing cold water when we were kids?” Leah said, her voice was filled with shock.

“Alive and in the flesh.”

Leah walked up to me, she smiled and pulled me in for a tight hug.

“It’s so good to see you again!”

“Nice to see you to, I was thinking to myself last night it was about time I make a visit down here.”

“I’m glad you did... really I am.”

“I’ll leave you two girls alone now.” Harry said, he got back inside the house.

“We have somethings to catch up on don’t we?” Leah said.

“Yeah we do.”

“Let’s go for a walk down on the beach.”

“Sure, as long as you don’t push me into the water.”

“No promises.”

We walked in silence to the beach, it was nice though. The cool wind and ocean waves was comforting.

“So... how’s everything going?” I asked.

“It’s been better...I started dating Sam in high school but... somethings happened.”

“What? Are you okay?”

“I’ll live but, Sam started dating Emily... and they’re engaged now actually.”

“What the hell... what is wrong with him.”

“I know it’s completely messed up... Speaking of Sam, before we broke up he told me you were dating someone, he told me he was a Cullen. Is that true.”

“It depends, are you going to react the same way Sam did?”

“What did he do?”

“He grabbed me by the arms and screamed in my face, I had bruises on my arms for a solid week.”

“No, I won’t do that, I promise. I do want to rip Sam’s head off even more now.”

“Yes, I am dating one of them, Jasper is his name.”

“I won’t tell you how to live your life regarding that, just... be careful.”

“I will... I was going to see Sam after this but, I don’t think I want to now.”

“Hey, don’t stop being friends with Sam just because of me. Just because I hate his guts doesn’t mean you have to as well.”

“What he did to you was messed up Leah... I would kill someone if they did that to me.”

“Just, come around more... that’ll make it up for you being friends with him.”

“I will, I promise, you should come over to my place sometime too, I’d love to have you there.”

“That sounds great Fleur, thanks.

“No problem.”

We had spent the entire day on the beach, it was beautiful. It was nice to catch up with Leah... she hadn’t changed much. She was just hurt, she felt bitter about Sam and Emily. If I was her, I would feel the same way. We made our way back to Leah’s house. Harry was sitting on the porch.

“It was good to see you again Fleur, you should come over more often.” Harry offered.

“I definitely will, you should come down to my place too, Dad’s been itching for a hunting trip.”

“Tell him I said hi, and I’m ready whenever he is.”

“I will, bye Harry, bye Leah... It was nice to be over!”

“See you later Fleur, thanks for coming by.”

“See you later.”

When I got back home, the sun had just started to set, The lights in the living room where on so I assumed dad was up.

“Hey dad I’m home!”

I didn’t get a reply, I walked in the living room and was shocked to see Bella sitting on one of the couches.

“Bella, hey...”

“Don’t even try to talk to me.”

“What, what?”

“I know this was your fault, Edward leaving.”

“Bella are you serious right now?”

“Yes I am, you never wanted to see me happy... you’re getting what you wanted now.”

“Bella... I didn’t tell the Cullens to leave, why would I do that? You do realize Edward leaving got Jasper to leave too right?”

“Oh please, you were out with him all day today don’t even lie.”

“I wasn’t Bella, I was with Leah.”

“Really? So you haven’t talked to him at all since he left.”

“No, I haven’t.” I lied.

“Whatever... just get out of my face.”

I turned and walked away... I was surprised I didn’t snap at her. My mood was exceptional today. I went out back to see if dad was there, he was. He was sitting out back on a lawn chair with a beer, staring out into the woods behind our house.

“Hey dad.”

“Hey Petal, Harry called, he said that you really helped Leah out today.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he said she’s been pretty depressed lately and she’s been really angry too. He said that was the happiest she had been in a while.”

“That’s good... I saw Bella finally got out of her bedroom.”

“Yeah, she did. I didn’t except her to for a while, she went to school today too.”

“Oh wow, did you say anything about her going back with mom?”

“Yeah and you were right, she completely freaked out on me. She told me she was going out tonight though with her friend, Jessica.”

“Oh that’s good, she hasn’t left her room for like 4 days.”

“Has she talked to you at all?”

“No... not at all.” I lied, I didn’t want him to worry about Bella and I’s fighting for right now.

I sat out with Dad in the backyard until late tonight. When we went inside, Bella had just come back from her night out with Jessica. Bella looked like she had a crazed look in her eyes. It was kinda scary... her mood had switched so quick from earlier today. It looked like she sky dived or something. When I went to bed, I had another dream... I was in a house this time, it was clean and stylish. When I walked into another room, Jasper was there he looked up hearing my footsteps and his eyes widened. Before I could say anything however, the dream faded to black.

POV Change: Jasper’s

I was by myself tonight, Alice, Dean, Rosalie, Esme, and Emmett had all gone out hunting for the night Carlisle was at work. I sitting in my room reading some books when I heard footsteps coming near me. I looked up, a familiar pair of dark browns eyes met mine. I was in shock, I’m seeing her again... what is happening to me? Before I could ask her anything she disappeared in thin air.

#jasper hale x oc #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale #rosalie hale #edward cullen #alice cullen #esme cullen #emmett cullen #carlisle cullen

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fangirlincorporated-blog · 4 years ago

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The Lucky Australian

~~ 7 Almost~~

I wouldn't know where to start

"Sweet Music" playing "In The Dark"

Be still "My Foolish Heart, "

Don't ruin this on me

It had been a few days, and even though he had tried to keep himself busy, she was always floating around his mind.

It didn’t help him that whenever his phone would buzz he was always hoping it was from her, he’d been disappointed to notice that she hadn’t messaged him as much as he had hoped. There had been a few selfies and an occasional funny text through, he knew she was seeing a few friends and doing all the touristy stuff, but he had still wanted all more attention form her.

Henry couldn’t work it out, was she apprehensive to contact him more? Was she trying to play it cool? Logically, he knew that she was just enjoying her time in London, and he had no right to demand all her time, but still…he had just wanted her.

He had spent his day gaming, broken up by hanging out with kal when Charlie called, with nothing better to do and not hearing from Aurora for a few hours, he found himself at the pub. The warm summer air lifting his mood as he and his brother downed a few pints and surveyed their surroundings.

“You looking for anyone in particular?” Charlie whispered.

Henry sighed and put down his beer

“No. Not really”

Silence filled the space between them.

“Henry, what’s wrong?” Charlie sighed

Henry shifted in his seat, unsure of how to explain to his brother that he missed a woman that he had only known for days. How he wanted to be greedy with her time but not smother her, how he wished that every time his phone buzzed he was hoping it was her. How, he wanted to know every part of her mind, body and soul. He wanted her completely, but what if it was only lust on his part? What if it was only just a fire and no slow burn…The many what if’s were enough to drive him crazy.

“How did you know Heather was the one?” Henry asked, the question even surprising himself.

Charlie let out a breath and twirled his glass in his hand.

“I don’t know how to answer that one Henry. I guess for me, it was just an instant click, my head and my heart were in perfect unison at the time, I had that little voice that just told me this was it” he shrugged.

“You moved your whole life to Canada, weren’t you scared?”

“I was terrified, but the overwhelming feeling I had was that when I was with her there was no place I’d rather be, and that I’d be ok, no matter what happens”

Henry looked down at his glass.

“Is this about a certain Australian you met a few days ago?”

Henry looked up at Charlie and nodded, his insecurity and worry must’ve been plastered all over his face as Charlie’s features softened in response.

“It’s just…I only spent a few hours alone with her after we were at the pub, and the next day and no, we didn’t have sex Charlie”

“I wasn’t asking”

“You were thinking it”

“Thought never crossed my mind. Continue…”

Sometimes Charlie really knew how to get under his skin and piss him off, Henry couldn’t blame him, having siblings meant never being able to get away with anything.

“I had a really great time with her, it just felt like everything fell into place. She said she would call me in a few days because she was meeting up with friends and sightseeing, and I’m a rational man, I get that Charlie, I do. Its just…I want all her time, I want to be with her, I want to talk to her, I want to message her all the time, I want to know her, I want to be in the same space as her. I know I shouldn’t be demanding of all her attention, but every time the damn phone buzzes I hope its her, and I cant fathom for the life of me why she isn’t messaging me all the time or talking to me”

Charlie hadn’t stopped looking at Henry. Henry continued.

“I know, like I fucking know that she’s just with friends, but the other part of me keeps questioning, why isn’t she calling me? Is it too much, too fast for her? Is she not as interested as I thought she was? What if me being me is too much for her? What if its just lust? What if she’s not over her ex?”

“Her ex?”

Henry sighed and rubbed his eyes

“They were together up until 3 years ago, whatever happened she still has nightmares about”

“Whoa Henry, what-“

“Charlie, I don’t know. Aurora said it was a great relationship and it ended. I only found out after she told me because her friends imessages were popping up on her ipad, she said she would tell me later”

Charlie stretched his arms out in front of him.

“That’s a bit of a red flag”

“Yeah, but I cant force anything out of her” Henry growled in frustration.

Charlie didn’t miss the anger, he didn’t miss the hurt or the confusion that draped itself over Henry. Picking his words carefully, he continued.

“Henry, from what you have said already, I think you really like this girl, hell, you might even love her at this point and you don’t know. You have never spoken about any other women you’ve dated or seen, like you have Aurora and you’ve only known her a few days. I think, this is something worth trying for. I think she might be it for you, but you’ve only just net her, you cant demand everything now, no matter how hard you want it. That’s the thing with love and all that shit. It’s irrational, its intense and it doesn’t make sense. Be open, communicate and be honest, that’s all you can do. You will both navigate anything else that comes your way.”

Henry looked up at Charlie, he always had this way of being right about everything. Maybe he was right, maybe all those feelings he was having were a precursor to something deeper that he cant explain, maybe his heart knows before the path is laid out.

“Henry, why don’t you message her and ask her to meet you? Even if she’s already busy with friends, she would make time for you”

He looked at Charlie and back at his beer, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and just stared at it.

He heard Charlie sigh.

“I’ll get more drinks while your compose your sonnet” He laughed, making his way to the bar.

Henry ran a hand over his face and started typing out a message.

~~~~~~~~

“So, its 3pm, I’m going to start getting ready. We’re meeting at her place for pre drinks, then onwards to this gay bar she said I would like” Raphi said as he looked over at Aurora

“Does that mean its time for my boots Raphi?”

“Bitch, its always time for them boots. First though, I’m using the shower.” Raphi grabbed a towel and moved to the bathroom.

The past few days she had been shopping with Nate and his husband, she had travelled up to leeds to see an old friend and then went all the way down to bath to see an old work colleague. Never mind in between all that, partying with Raphi and Hanhan. She was glad for the few days she would have alone in Italy coming up. Even then, she would be visiting family. Holidays are supposed to be relaxing, she thought to herself.

She picked up her phone, wondering if she should message Henry. She had spoken to him on and off, but didn’t want to bombard him with unwanted messages, especially if he had changed his mind. He had still seemed interested but she didn’t want to push it, not to mention she had been seeing friends, which was a welcome excuse to try and get her mind off a certain brown haired, blue eyed Adonis. Dating was a lot much harder than she remembered

Suddenly, her phone buzzed in her hand, her face lighting up seeing is name on her screen.

Hey, this seems incredibly stupid, but…I really enjoyed my time with you. Wondering if you’re free tonight? Maybe we could catch up?

She started her reply, yelling questions through the bathroom door to Raphi. As she was halfway through, another message popped up.

I miss your company.

Her heart melted a little.

I’ll come meet you for a drink, I wont be able to spend as much time as I want with you, I’m being dragged to a club. I miss your company too.

Short and to the point. Mere seconds later, Henry replied.

Same pub we met at? What time?

She smiled, replying as fast as possible before throwing down her phone and getting her boots on.

~~~~~~~~

Charlie watched Henry as he continued to throw glances towards the pub door.

It had been 3 hours since Aurora said she would meet him. As it neared 6pm, Henry started getting nervous, bouncing his leg up and down under the table, not focusing on conversations and forever checking his watch. Charlie smiled into his beer as he took another sip. He remembered those butterflies and those nerves.

Charlie was able to distract Henry for a few minutes when something caught his eye, he looked up and the first thing he saw were boots, followed by Aurora, he snuck a glance back to Henry who hadn’t noticed her yet. Charlie looked back at Aurora as her eyes found them in the pub, she smiled and made her way over to them as Charlie kicked Henry under the table. He looked up, startled and then looked to where Charlie was pointing. Charlie knew the moment Henry laid eyes on Aurora, he was in trouble.

Henry’s mouth fell open as she came toward him. She was wearing all black jeans with a black top, her outfit simply hugging every curve of her body, but the standout feature was the thigh high boots she was wearing.

They were covered in silver rhinestones. This woman knew how to make an entrance.

Henry was still stuck to his chair when she walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Sliding into the spot next to him he didn’t notice her friends following her and seating themselves at the table.

Henry was silent, just staring at her. All the sounds around him evaporating as he took all of her in.

“I’ll shout you guys a round before we have to go.” She laughed. Henry looked at her and was silent for a moment just staring at her until Charlie broke his silence when he spoke to her. Suddenly, the world came crashing back into Henry, the sounds of the pub, the warmth of Aurora next to him and the smell of the perfume she wore invading all his senses.

She laughed at something Raphi said. Henry looked at her, his hands itching to touch her in some way. Slowly, pretending to be interested in a ring she wore, he reached out for her hand, and just held it, not wanting to let go.

Charlie observed them while the rest of the group entertained themselves. Aurora, talking and joking with her friends, for the most part didn’t seemed fazed at all by Henry's need for closeness. It almost came natural to her that she expected Henry wanted to that contact. Everything about her demeanour and her body language seemed so relaxed, like this relationship had existed for years rather than days. Henry on the other hand, seemed hyper aware of every movement and touch of Aurora’s, his nervousness and almost giddy appearance that he was in the same space with as well as the physical contact of the woman he was infatuated with, betrayed his usual tough looking exterior. Basically, he became a big teddy bear.

After what only seemed like a few minutes to Henry, Aurora and her friends announced their departure. Their excitement and slight buzz from the few shots they downed evident on their faces as they got up to leave, ready for the night ahead. Noting it was only 8pm, Henry felt cheated those 2 hours had flown by, and became a little depressed at the thought of her leaving.

Aurora looked Henry.

“If I survive tonight, I promise I will call you tomorrow and we’ll go on a proper date!” she smiled

“Bitch, what do you mean if you survive tonight? You’re getting as fucked up as us!” Hanhan laughed at her.

“Listen I’m going to be the most sober one there, god knows this one wont bend over the toilet bowl to throw up” She pointed at Raphi with her voice taking on a slight Italian accent, hands moving with every word.

“There we go, there’s the Italian!” Raphi yelled over his shoulder, making his way out of the pub. Aurora laughed.

“I better be getting chicken nuggets at the end of this night is all I’m saying” Aurora leaned down to kiss Henry goodbye like it was the most normal thing in the world and walked out of the pub following Hanhan and Raphi.

Charlie looked over at Henry watching her go. He knew, in that moment, that Henry would be spending the rest of his life with Aurora.

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #straya #australia #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc

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felidaefighter · 4 years ago

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Keeping Promises To His Reflection

Sequel to Love You To The Point Of Violence; AKA Sapnap keeps his promise to Quackity and, by proxy, Dream

[cw: angst, character death]

It had been a long time since Sapnap had properly hunted anyone. It was invigorating, in a way, and almost reminded him of the good old days he’d spent sparring with Dream and George. Almost. Now, though, the fire that had initially fueled his passion and love burned with rage and resentment and spread into his sword, which sparked and flickered with heat and Flame. He was burning from the inside out in every way, and he intended to share this feeling with the unlucky person he was hunting via his blade.

Sapnap walked with the heavy, certain footsteps of the soldier he once was-- and in all honesty, still was-- forward, deliberate, and imbued with intent. He had never been known for mercy-- didn’t have any sort of track record for it in any of his wars-- but that didn’t mean he couldn’t love. Just meant he was careful with his love and loyal to his core. That loyalty came with the toll he was here to collect. The flames from his sword cast deep shadows from the spruce around him, and his eyes flickered through the trees, hoping to catch someone moving with the shadows.

“There’s no use in hiding,” Sapnap called in a sing-song voice that did little to mask his feelings, “And you can’t outrun me. If you have a horse I’ll just bow it down. I mean, you know me.” With a steadying exhale that immediately had Sapnap turning towards him, Quackity stepped out of the shadows. “Can we talk about this? I just want to talk. We can just talk, right?” Sapnap sighed, stepping towards his ex-fiance. “I mean... I don’t want to lie to you, Quackity.” Two strong-willed individuals staring eachother down. It would’ve been quite a sight, in any other circumstance. But only one of them was wearing netherite.

Standing less than a hair’s length away from one another, the two men could argue that the tension between them was solely a face-off of powerful people; but it would be a lie if they never acknowledged just how much of it came from their history. They could pretend, if they wanted, that their skin didn’t itch with the memory of embrace that would only burn with bitterness if they acted on nostalgia. Instead, Sapnap’s eyes bored into Quackity’s own, a relentless gaze that wouldn’t yield no matter the silver of Quackity’s tongue.

Sapnap still ached, in no small part, to run his rough and calloused warrior’s hand over the scar on Quackity’s face as he discussed it, but he couldn’t, not anymore. “I talked to Tubbo about the butcher army he ran,” Sapnap explained-- Quackity looked quizzical, having not yet figured out where he was leading. “Or rather, the butcher army you ran. It was your idea, your ‘hitlist’. And Dream was on there too.” Now Quackity knew. Despite the space between them, Sapnap could still feel Quackity’s breath hitch and heart race just a little faster. Creating a defense that both of them knew Sapnap wouldn’t buy.

“Sapnap, Tubbo was the president. He really said that to you? He’s just trying to absolve himself of any guilt so you don’t attack him! That should be obvious to you.” The resentment Sapnap felt that was still burning within him. Mostly, towards himself. “Is it really second nature for you to lie like that now? What happened to you Quackity?” He thought that having his brother be the prime example of where it all went wrong would make it easier to spot in anyone else, but apparently, it just made him less willing to acknowledge it in someone he loved. Fool me once type beat. More than anything, he felt used. He had been a soldier for Quackity and Dream both. He had been loyal to Quackity and Dream both.

Coals still burn white-hot and deadly long after the flames are gone, and that was more akin to what Sapnap was feeling than a heartache. He thought he had known Dream, until it became apparent that they had drifted so much farther apart than he’d realized, and it was no longer the truth. He had thought he’d known Quackity, too. But now, it was safe to say he had never known Quackity at all. That didn’t stop the embers of his love. Didn’t stop his loyalty. Didn’t-- Sapnap’s resolve and gaze hardened-- stop him from intending to keep his promise.

And Quackity, ever so smart, was beginning to realize the situation he had put himself in. Here in front of him stood a renowned warrior, an ex-lover, and someone whom he had betrayed the trust of-- with a fire in his heart, a sword in his hand, and little more than Quackity to lose. The open woods didn’t stop him from feeling cornered. The light coming from Sapnap did not quell his fears, as his ease nowadays came from the silence and lack of witness that was offered by the dark. Sapnap spoke, and Quackity bit his tongue to keep quiet, feeling blood like liquid silver from his mouth and run like poison down his throat.

“Y’know, I was angry at Dream for betraying George and I back when we were trying to get El Rapids up and running. I wanted to kill him. But I thought about it, and I realized something.” Quackity took a step back. Sapnap took a step forward. “You didn’t actually care. You saw George and I as an opportunity for you. Despite it all, Quackity, I still love Dream. And the only thing that hurts more than his betrayal right now is the fact that you used that for your own means.” There was too much irony in it all, and Sapnap was sick of it.

Quackity wanted to ask Sapnap why he still loved Dream. Wanted to blame Dream for everything, call him a monster, tell Sapnap he did it all for him. But they were well past that. They’d had that conversation and Quackity would spare them the indignity of having it again. So instead, he took a good and proper look at Sapnap’s face. He expected Sapnap to look angry. Or disgusted. Hell, he’d even take “contempt”. What he got instead was so much worse, and apprehension rocketed through his core. Something buried in the shards of his heart shook loose, and after running ice through his veins it gave him wide eyes, terror, and the tiny, desperate flame of love that he hadn’t quite managed to snuff out.

‘I love you, I have always loved you, I still love you, I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,’ written all over Sapnap’s face. A man who kept his promises to those he loved. The silver had bled out of Quackity’s words, and instead he was left with a quiet, desperate whisper, reminiscent of the man he used to be. “Sapnap, you’re not gonna kill me,” Quackity begged, and the man known being ruthless gently grabbed Quackity’s arm and stared into his eyes.

“You’ve hurt so many people,” Sapnap said, pained, his grip tightening slightly as Quackity attempted to shift away. “You’ve crossed too many lines. You’re worse than Dream ever was, and that’s saying something.” Quackity could feel the heat from the man’s skin, and it almost rivaled the temperature of the blade that was still radiating flames and forming something of a gate at the opposite side. “Sapnap, you know I’d never want to hurt you.” He tried appealing to the man’s romantic senses, tried pretending there was nothing left of his own. “All of this was only ever about what you wanted. You hurt Karl and I. You betrayed our trust.”

So close now, Quackity could almost forget he was afraid. There was no point in backing up. The silver had been drained from his tongue; his only true claim to power. He had no horses in the race anymore. No more cards to put on the table and no ace up his sleeve. Just the love of the man who was keeping him from running away. “You’re not gonna kill me,” he tried again, and Sapnap looked sorry for him. Not in a way that meant pity, though. That was good. Pity was something Quackity loathed.

“Quackity, you can still trust me. I made you a promise.” And it hurts, for Quackity, that he shares a promise with Dream. He feels regret stab through his heart, feels the heat of his true emotions and the blood soak into his shirt and the burn of his feelings and the blade that slides through him like he was no more than fragile glass. Quackity is burning. Anger and resentment, love and passion, regret for the things he couldn’t do. Regret for the things he did-- maybe. Not really, if he’s being honest. He coughs up blood as Sapnap holds him, steady as always.

He pulls his sword out of Quackity’s chest and smoke pours out of the wound as freely as blood. It smells terrible, of course, but neither of them have the mind to point that out. Quackity’s lungs feel charred and wet at the same time. He speaks in a broken voice. “I’m pissed about this,” he confesses, “But I’m glad that after everything, I can still trust you. You never let me down when you make a promise.” They crouch down, though for Quackity it’s more like collapsing. Sapnap is still holding onto him, keeping him upright, and Quackity finds himself holding onto Sapnap right back. He tells himself he has no attachments. He’s too good at lying now; he can even do it to himself.

The ashes of their relationship make no phoenix. There is no rebirth in this, no reconciliation. There on the needle bedding of pine there is only a man who went too far and a man who keeps his promises. Neither is free of sin, but neither do they feel regret. Do what has to be done, and love enough to see it through. It’s too hot on the smoldering earth for tears to stay, if there were any at all. Quackity exhales smoke and doesn’t inhale again after that. Sapnap sees two faces in the lifeless eyes, neither of which he could save-- except for this one, only in death.

Karl won’t understand. He doesn’t have to. He only needs to accept and move on. The man he thought he loved-- the man they both thought they loved-- should have been mourned when he truly died, long before their engagement. Sapnap absently touches his ring finger, before letting out a furious scream of anguish and burying his sword in the earth in an act more primal than he would let himself feel earlier. Flames eat at the forest bedding and flicker around him and the body he holds, but Sapnap knows fire and if he’s honest, he doesn’t care about anything else right now. Let the forest burn-- he’s done worse. The man born from fire takes his former lover home.

#mcyt fanfic #sapnap #quackity #mcyt fanfiction #they write #PROUD OF THIS ONE LET'S GO BOIIISSSSS

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 4 years ago

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Unspoken: Chapter One - Oikawa Tooru x f!reader

Oikawa has been in love with you since you became a manager for the university’s volleyball team, but keeps it to himself in fear of what his fan club might do to you if they found out

genre(s): college!au, mutual pining (mostly Oikawa), friends to lovers, angst, eventual smut words: 3k+

a/n: don’t worry folks, i just got carried away with this fic and felt it would be better to split it up. chapter 2 is complete and will be up tomorrow 💖 with a bonus smut ending if you are a heathen like me. enjoy ~ J ✨ i am also sorry i made the fan club so bitchy

taglist: @takingyouruwus @kurosarium @apollochjld @afterglowkuroo (lmk if you’d like to be added to my general or a specific taglist!)

Chapter 2

The Oikawa fan club is definitely not a fan of you, and you certainly aren’t of them. Not because you have a crush on him too but because they’re obnoxious and take the best seats at volleyball games. It also doesn’t help that they outright despise you. They don’t even try to hide it. Snickering in the hallways at school or passing quick remarks whispered amongst them at games. You really aren’t a fan of that. You don’t care, you don’t care, you don’t care—you chant to yourself to keep your tongue locked behind your teeth. It isn’t worth your time or the effort.

Not until you hear one of them hiss today at the game, “What is she even doing up here? I thought she’s the manager,” a scoff. “Guess the team likes Miko better.”

Your fists ball instinctively. You can’t sit down there, as much as you’d like to. If they knew anything deeper about volleyball beyond Oikawa’s killer serve and being obsessed with his ‘pretty hair’ they’d know that you might be a manager but there is a senior manager who outranks you and only one is allowed on the bench down on the court.

Though you have to admit, sitting up here in the bleachers with the Oikawa ogling brigade in front of you—the manager—fawning over his every move is degrading. You don’t necessarily have to sit directly behind them, but god dammit you want to see the game too and are willing to grin and bear it for the sake of the team. You can’t sit in the normal cheering section crowded with students either since you arrive late and would have to sit at the back of the stands. So, this is the better of two options, even if today the fan club is being particularly petty.

“Or maybe she’s just a wannabe,” another snickers, loud enough that you know she is intending you to hear it.

That pushes you over the edge, making you abruptly stand up. You’re wearing a university volleyball club jacket for fucks sake! Are they really so shallow as to start slinging rumors like that around? They jolt at your sudden movement, glaring back at you, clearly with no intention of apologizing. They so obviously just want you to leave.

You want to watch the game, support the boys you watch work so hard and work hard for yourself, but you don’t want to be around for this bullshit. You know shouldn’t care, but you do, and it fucking ruins the game for you.

Instead of giving them some mean remark like you’re itching to throw at them, you just turn on a heel and go. You stride up the steps and towards the exit right as you hear the crowd gear up for Oikawa’s serve. You stop once you reach the doorway, fists clenched and trembling with anger, furious at yourself for letting them get under your skin. Exactly like they wanted to. You should have stayed as a silent ‘fuck you’ to them, but you can’t stomach going back either. Not like they even care anyways, probably too wrapped up in Oikawa’s serve. Now a sigh escapes you; forcing your hands to unfurl and stretch the ache that formed from how tightly you had them clenched.

You need to take a breath and move on. You have nothing to prove to them, all the matters is that you know where you stand. It also makes you feel better that the team actually knows you, they can pretend it isn’t true all they want but that doesn’t change that you get to spend time with the team, and inevitably, Oikawa. A fact they loathe.

You end up lingering in the hallway near the entrance to the gym, waiting for the game to finish. Usually you can be a part of the between game meetings if you want to, sometimes you can’t get down there fast enough but sitting here in the hallway, you’ll make it today. While you wait, you slide down the wall to sit, leaning against it and pulling your legs close to rest your chin on.

You like to think that you have tough skin and their words can’t hurt you, but they do. And while you may not put the same about of blood, sweat, and tears the boys do into the sport—you put in your fair share for them, and it’s hard to be met with scoffs and sideways glances purely because of jealousy. You’re appreciated enough by those who matter, so why are you so bothered by the fan club? Shaking your head at the fleeting thought that it has anything to do with Oikawa, you convince yourself it’s just annoyance that you can’t enjoy games like you’d like to.

Interrupting your thoughts, the whistle blows to signal the end of the game and you perk your head up. You’re grateful for the distraction, not really wanting to delve deeper into your thoughts about Oikawa, and peek into the gym. Miko notices your head in the doorway and waves you in to join the huddle.

Ha, take that fan club. Wannabe my ass.

Miko’s movement catches Oikawa’s attention. He looks to where her attention is drawn and watches you beam before throwing the door wide and joining the huddle by Miko’s side. He wonders what you were doing waiting by the door, normally you wait until the last possible moment before bolting from your seat in the bleachers to join the huddle. You never want to miss a single second of the game, which he finds rather endearing. And he can’t remember the last time you skipped out on a game early.

He stares at you, trying to get your attention, but you’re fixated on the coach, no doubt trying to soak up as much information as possible. It makes his mouth curve ever so slightly at how eagerly you listen during these huddles. When you do briefly slide your gaze over to him, he gives you a questioning look to which you just shake your head at and point discretely at the coach.

Ah. Your way of saying, ‘shut up and listen’.

He supposes he likes that about you. Your bluntness.

So, with an eyeroll, he fixes his eyes on the coach, fully intending on pestering you later about it. He tries to grab you before the next game, but you hurry away as soon as the whistle is blown, and his fingers grasp empty air.

The team wins the next set, winning the match without going to the 3rd set. As customary, he lines up with the team to thank the spectators and Oikawa gets the chance to pick you out in the crowd. He spots you off to the side, and he’s noted since meeting you that you don’t sit with the cheering crowd, but rather on your own. It’s never too hard to find you, your face split in two by a smile as you clap for them. It’s then that he notices who is sitting directly in front of you.

He fights the urge to frown. He likes to think he’s a polite guy, having always given attention to his so called ‘fan club’. He got used to it in high school, the constant barrage of placating a group of fans, but had been secretly looking forward to hopefully leaving it behind. Only to have a new one re-emerge within the first few months of school. The other guys on the team weren’t too keen about him for a while after that. It took him forever to convince them to tolerate him again.

And he hates that they give you trouble. Ever since they discovered you interact with him outside of school, it seems they deemed you an enemy. He tries to stay away from you during regular school hours, keeping it limited to volleyball only, but lately the two have started bleeding together. He simply can’t help himself, however selfish that may be. Gathering his things, he wonders if they’re the cause for your weird behavior earlier.

He glances at you helping Miko put away the chairs, a tight feeling constricting his chest. God—if he ever told you how he actually feels about you, what would his fan club do then? How miserable would they make you? But damn him to hell, he’s selfish, and it doesn’t stop him from striding over to you cooing your name.

Without hesitation you reply, “Oikawa-san~,” in the same sing-song voice he uses for you. You don’t even bother to look over your shoulder at him, continuing your task.

“What was with the little peeping tom imitation earlier?”

You’re glad to be facing away from him, your skin prickling with the thought of having to explain to him that his fan club was pissing you off. Surely earning yourself a more prying follow-up question that you definitely do not want to answer. So instead you shrug, brushing off his question, “You guys were so far ahead, and I was sure your serves would end it, so I figured I’d actually be a part of the entire huddle.”

He squints, finding that to be rather out of character for you. “You missed my serves though!” He pouts, deciding it’s better for him to let you off the hook than continue to pry. He doesn’t think you’d tell him anyways, no matter how much he pesters you.

“Oh, big baby. I missed what? Two?”

“What if they were my best yet!” He protests, leaning around you so you can see his impressive pout. It delights him that he elicits a smile from you, peering at him from the corner of your eye, clearly finding his antics amusing. “Guess you’ll have to help me with serving practice to make up for it.”

You stick your tongue out at him, which he hates to admit he watches very closely as you answer, “Fine.” Though, truthfully, he’s not really pulling your leg too much. You like helping him practice.

He can’t help how his mouth turns downward into a frown as another member of the team, a bold freshman, butts into the conversation. “Need any help?”

Though he does find immense delight at the way your face falls to a neutral expression, giving him a curt, “I’m alright, thank you.” You don’t even turn to him, instead tilting your head to look at Oikawa continuing, “Oikawa-san is more than enough help here. Why don’t you see if they need help putting away the net?”

The freshman slinks away and Oikawa has to physically restrain himself from doing a victory lap as you shove a chair into his hands grumbling to yourself. The muttering continues as you move to put away more chairs, loud enough that he catches you say, “Is he ever going to get the hint?”

“What?”

You almost drop the chair you’re holding, turning wide-eyed at Oikawa, not realizing you’d been talking out loud to yourself. “It’s nothing.”

He frowns. “Is he bothering you?”

God he’s talking so loudly, making you nervous that the underclassman might hear him. “Can you talk any louder?” You hiss. Oikawa’s expression doesn’t change, however, and you groan really not wanting to get into this right now. “He’s been at it for a couple weeks now,” you say, trying to play off the situation as best you can. You’ve never had someone as persistent in pursuing you as he is, or someone as oblivious to your subtle rejections either.

You vaguely wonder if this is how Oikawa feels all the time with his fan club.

“Wanna pretend to date for a while?” He suggests harmlessly in your opinion, but very selfishly in his. And while he knows he isn’t joking in the slightest—you certainly think he is and bark out a laugh at the idea of fake dating him to get the underclassman off your back. “What?” He pouts. “Is it so crazy of an idea?”

You’re laughing even harder now, enough that people are beginning to look your way, so you swallow you remaining laughter and wipe your eyes dramatically. “It just don’t want to be murdered in the dead of night by your fan club, that’s all.”

You go back to collapsing chairs and don’t notice Oikawa stiffen. He doesn’t like being reminded that his fan club will literally rip apart any girl he is even remotely interested in. And he isn’t just interested in you. He likes you. A lot.

Clearly not thinking anything of this conversation, you say over your shoulder, “What are all those muscles for if you’re not going to carry more chairs than me?” He blinks back to reality and makes a show of picking up way more chairs than you and putting them away faster too. That only earns him a scowl in response, but he knows it’s only for show.

“Oh, pleeeeeease?” Oikawa almost gets on his knees begging you. Practice is done but he wants to stay late and hammer in more serves before the night is over. And sue him if he thinks it’s way more enjoyable if you stay to help him. “You promised last week!” You groan, scrunching your eyes tight, not wanting to look at his stupidly adorable pouting face that usually breaks you. It doesn’t help that you can feel he is standing very close to you. “You’re going to have to open your eyes sometime.”

“Nope, I’ll walk all the way home like this.”

He pleads your name again. “You’re going to miss the rare sight of Oikawa Tooru on his knees for you!”

You don’t budge. “Nice try.”

“I’m serious!” Now he really does get on his knees, dramatically putting his hands together to beg you. “This is a once in a lifetime chance!”

He keeps it to himself that you could definitely get him on his knees for many different reasons.

He’s sure that he’s broken you when you groan loudly and peek an eye open at him. Upon seeing that he is being serious, both of your eyes widen, and you have the audacity to start giggling at him. “I should take a picture.”

That makes him scramble to his feet, sticking his tongue out at you. “You better not.” It just makes you grin and his heart soars at the sight. He can’t help that your smile makes his stomach do somersaults. He takes you by the arm and drags you further into the gym before jogging over to the other side of the court and grabbing a ball from the cart.

He loves that he doesn’t have to tell you what to do. You’re already digging through your bag to find objects to place around the opposite side of the net for him to aim for. He notices that you’ve placed some of them very meanly—some sitting just barely on the outside line, others in spots that he has a record of having trouble hitting. And while it makes his chest swell with pride you even notice his performance, the scowl across his face betrays his annoyance that you aren’t making this easy.

If you’re going to help him—he’s going to have to work for it.

And hell, if that doesn’t drive him wild.

“Those good?” You ask, stepping off to the side, a smug smirk splayed across your lips.

You know exactly what you’re doing.

He levels a look at you that you return with a sickeningly sweet yet utterly terrifying smile. “You’re going to have to do better than that, I’m afraid.”

Your smile transforms into something that makes his stupid fucking shorts tighten, holding his gaze steadily as you challenge, “We’ll see.” Then you tear your eyes from his and he feels like you’ve ripped his chest out with it and like he can barely get enough air into his lungs. He knows the challenge is to drive him to do better, to perform the best of his ability, but damn—he’ll give 110% for the rest of his life if you ask him to.

You will never admit how much you love watching Oikawa play volleyball. Watching him shift from his teasing, easy-going smile, to this intensely serious and calculating gaze that while foreign to you—is also so strangely familiar. You feel lucky to be able to watch him up close, someone who has honed their craft, yet is ever looking to be better. When it comes down to it, you truly admire Oikawa and want to be there to watch him grow and see where he goes. Because to you, the sky’s the limit for him.

Where the hell are those thoughts coming from?

The sound of a volleyball slamming onto the court, sending the notebook you placed on the line skittering across the floor, startles you. “Hey! Pay attention!” Oikawa scolds. You quickly apologize, knowing full well how much a stray volleyball can hurt. “And make sure you’re watching! I’m going to hit every single one of those first try.”

You nod, a bit blankly, still reeling from the thoughts tumbling through your head. He tosses another ball up, his powerful thighs straining as he thrusts his body upwards, hand meeting the ball at the perfect point—the sound of his hand cracking against it almost as loud as the sound that reverberates around the gym when it connects with the floor. It all happens in the blink of an eye, but you feel like you’re watching it in slow motion until his feet touch the floor and you’re jolted back to reality.

God, what the fuck is going on with you tonight?

Oikawa isn’t blind. He knows you’re watching him. And it sends such a thrill down his spine he doesn’t know what to do with himself besides channel as his energy into his serves. Otherwise he’s going to do something very stupid tonight.

You’re uncannily quiet for the remainder of the night. Just watching him serve over and over again, and when he’s finished, helping him pick up the balls and set up the targets so he can start again. He is desperate to know what’s going through your head, but he lets you stew, just as interested in what conclusion you might be coming to on your own.

It’s not his fault that his imagination runs absolutely fucking wild that night. He can’t sleep, theorizing what changed today—if anything did. What were you thinking about as you watched him so intently? What flipped the switch? Are you thinking about him right now, lying awake in bed like he is? It torments him even in his dreams.

He does keep you awake that night. You can’t get the image of him out of your head. His voice either. It’s infuriating. You try to convince yourself he’s just a friend. That all those late nights in the gym, all the times he’s walked you home, all the bus rides you’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder, are harmless. He hasn’t wormed his way into your heart, he hasn’t made you fall in love with him slowly and quietly and its only now hitting you like a tidal wave—has he?

Fuck. Has he?

You’re grateful your roommates’ room is down the hall, giving you the freedom to scream into your pillow.

Are you a fucking Oikawa fan girl now?

You don’t know the difference between you and them is that he’s been in love with you a lot longer than you can even imagine.

#oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru imagine #oikawa tooru scenario #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu #oikawa tooru

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