#love observing planes taking off and landing and stuff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aoitrinity · 4 years ago

Text

Why Do I Have to Feel Like a Fucking Conspiracy Theorist -- OR -- How I Find a Semblance of Peace on Sunday Night

I’m also going to start this out with a GIANT DISCLAIMER.

I am about to theorize about what may have happened to the SPN finale. I have absolutely no insider knowledge. I am merely speculating here based on the panels and a bunch of Twitter and Tumblr posts that I have been reading over the last few days. If you are not in a good place to read such things, TURN BACK PLEASE. Go take care of yourself and your mental health. You and your feelings are valid and deserve to be handled gently right now.

Additionally, if you are here to give me shit for being unhappy with the ending, please walk away as well. I am here to reach out and share my feelings with people who might be struggling to make sense of something that upset some of us in very deep-seated ways. I am not here to bother you or critique you or tell you that you’re lesser because you liked the ending. If you felt it was good, then go enjoy it.

Long-ass post beneath the cut, everyone.

Alrighty folks...I debated whether or not to do this because I have been spiraling down the hell that is the SPN finale since Thursday. The travesty of what happened to our show--to this beloved show that seemed to have been so perfectly and precisely written for at least four years that it had basically already paved its own tarmac on which to land its plane and we all thought we knew exactly what we were going to get. And then we didn’t. We had a nigh Cas-less and entirely Eileen-less ending. We had no goodbye between Cas and Jack. We had Dean dying young after finally finding his freedom, only to ascend to heaven with no one but Bobby. We had the weird, weird, weird incest-y death scene. We had the bridge crane shot thing because...sure. You do you, Robert Singer.

It was so terrible, so truly awful, and I couldn’t seem to square any of it with anything we had known going in. I tossed and turned and cried and didn’t eat or sleep all weekend. I spent hours just reloading tumblr and twitter, going to the Misha panel, reading and reading and listening and trying to figure out what the fucking hell is going on because I needed to know exactly where to direct my anger. And after a fuckton of talking with @winchester-reload, I think we have at least a very plausible theory about what happened here--I’m laying it out below as much for my own peace of mind as anything else, because otherwise all of these thoughts are going to continue to spin around in my head for weeks and I won’t be able to do jack shit.

Now to start off, unfortunately I do think Dean was slated to die from the beginning of this season. I don’t know WHY they thought that was the best way to go, and I wish they had listened to Jensen on this one. Part of me wonders if it was an order from on high based on the discussion between Becky and Chuck earlier this season--the writers knew it wasn’t a great choice, but they were trying to signal to us that we should feel free to write our own endings to the story because they’d be better (I can wax poetic on the signs of why many of the writers probably wanted Dean to live, but that’s another post). I’m not defending that choice by any means, just laying it out there that I think they didn’t necessarily all want to kill Dean like they did.

However, what I THINK I can explain now is what happened with Misha and why we got so jerked around with Cas’s story. Consider what we know (I can’t immediately source all of it, but I did my best):

At the end of episode 15x19, Lucifer has been returned to the Empty after being killed AGAIN. He talks with Cas. Maybe harasses him a bit about Dean, idk. But then...Jack shows up. New God Jack. And he picks up Cas and pulls him out of the Empty, leaving Lucifer behind, because seriously. Fuck that guy (also leaving behind his abusive father is character growth for Jack, so yay for that).

-Misha was contracted to film 15 episodes this season. He was only in 14.

-Misha told Michael Sheen he had to go back to film 1.5 episodes after the shutdown in March. (Starts at 6:13)

-Misha was in Vancouver during filming of the finale.

-Mark P said at Darklight Con that the last scene he filmed was with Alex and Misha (and Mark P was only in episode 19).

-Misha implied that he was present for various filming moments, including Dean’s death (start at 35:15), and said that it felt like a “mini-reunion.”

-Various sources have mentioned that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale.

-After episode 18, Stands tweeted a fan who was angered and hurt by Cas's death that they could talk about the “bury the gays” issue after the finale aired.

-In episode 19 we know there were takes of the parking lot scene where the only thing fans observing could hear was Dean yelling “CAS” at Chuck (fuck I can’t find this one right now, but it’s definitely out there)

-Also in episode 19, we had a very strange, awkward montage at the end of the episode.

-In episode 20, we know there were a FUCKTON of missing scenes

-We also had no opening montage, but three other separate montages.

-Carry on My Wayward Son was played TWICE, back-to-back at the end of the episode.

-Episode 20 was shorter than normal and had surprisingly little dialogue. The pacing was VERY strange.

-The cast and crew has been almost completely silent about the finale since it came out. When they have spoken, it has been with an awkward excuse of “Uh...COVID?”

-Samantha Ferris has specifically noted that, despite the Harvelle’s being back in play and a big heaven reunion having been planned pre-COVID, neither she nor Chad Lindberg received any such invitation to return.

-Cas and Dean POP Funko figures were pictured together in a replica of Harvelle’s in 15x04.

NOW with all of this in mind (and I’m probably missing some stuff too because there is so much--feel free to add on to that list), please bear with me because here is what I think we were SUPPOSED to get POST-COVID (after it was determined that the reunion couldn’t happen because of the virus):

In episode 20, we start with our NORMAL OPENING MONTAGE, like always. It traces everything that happened during the season. We are reminded of Cas. The confession. Rowena. Eileen. Jack. Billie, God, the Empty, all of it.

Things then follow along in the episode where they did up until Dean dies and wakes up in heaven. After his conversation with Bobby, he drives off to find Cas (who, in the script, was listed as “Jimmy Novak” in order to protect against script leaks--who wouldn’t want to do their best to avoid spoilers about the finale with the wrapping of a fifteen-year show?). He does indeed find Cas. We get Dean’s end of the confession. Hell, maybe we even get a kiss. And then Dean sets up his new heaven home in the recreated Harvelle’s. Maybe Cas even fucking moves in.

Years pass. We get Sam having his life on Earth (still can’t explain why they cut Eileen and couldn’t even have Sam signing vaguely to the blurry brunette in the background; if anyone wants to take that on, go for it). Eventually, Cas tells Dean that it’s almost Sam’s time. Dean takes Baby and goes to meet Sam at the bridge. The cover of Carry on My Wayward Son plays during this much shorter sequence. End of episode.

But that’s not what we got. Instead, much of what I just wrote about was excised from the episode. The remnants were stitched together after shooting had been wrapped. Filler was added in the form of montages and long, unnecessary extra shots to get the episode to something approaching a reasonable length.

But why? Why would they spend all that time and money and quarantining on Misha, only to almost completely cut him out of the finale? I struggled with why the fuck the CW would want this mammoth show to go down as the greatest queerbait in TV history when they had the chance to do something truly beautiful and monumental with it? It couldn’t just be sheer homophobia, right? Well, I think that factored into it, my friends, but here is where my head is at right now.

It was about cold, hard cash.

Now I could be wrong, but this is what I’m thinking at the moment: Supernatural is going off of the air. Supernatural, the CW’s cash cow for fifteen years. Sure there is still money to be made on blu-rays and merchandise and cons...but they need people watching their shows. They need that sweet advertising revenue. And you know what show they have about to premiere? A show that could, potentially, bring with it a chunk of that SPN revenue?

Walker.

And if any of you know anything about the original Walker Texas Ranger, you know that the show was predominantly a show about a very heterosexual white man being very excessively heterosexual. And for SOME REASON over the years, many of the execs at the CW still seem to think that this show, Supernatural, is really attractive to a lot of middle-American white men...whom they desperately want to watch this new show with this guy from Supernatural that they already know.

Now here’s where COVID fucked us. I think Destiel was greenlit by TPTB, at least in SOME form, before COVID. But then the pandemic happened, and they panicked. They got the cut of the last two episodes and watched them in their original, probably queer form. And then, the execs at CW looked at the economy. They looked at their cash cow, about to make its journey to the great beyond. And they looked at this new little calf Walker that they were so desperately worried about. And they made a choice.

They decided that it would be too risky to take the step with Destiel. They were worried about frightening off their ever-so-valuable hetero male demographic with the possibility that a traditionally masculine man in his 40s could be in love with another man in an overt way. It was homophobia mixed with greed, spun up by fear for their revenues because of COVID.

So they called in Singer, possibly Dabb, although I wouldn’t be surprised if they went straight to Singer. They told them that Destiel had to go: executive orders. And the only way to make it go in a way that removed any trace of what had been there was to rewrite what happened to Cas and cut him out from the last two episodes entirely. It was too late to reshoot anything. They had to just cut and stitch and fill with bullshit montages.

They removed the scene at the end of 19, probably because Cas and Lucifer discussed Dean. All that was left of Misha there was his voice on that fake phone call. They may have cut other things too, but I would bet my life that they cut a scene from the end of the episode and replaced it with that very strange montage. Then they moved onto 20. They cut out every scene with Cas. And left in only two platonic mentions of him, neither made by Dean. They tried to imply that Cas might show up in Dean’s heaven at some point, but that was as far as the editors could go in the time they had. They filled in with montages, awkwardly long shots, anything they could do to fill all of those missing scenes.

And they even had to take the opening montage, because literally everything in it pointed to Cas being there at the end of it all. They wouldn’t be able to leave out his scenes, they were too critical to the season. They couldn’t cut his confession without raising eyebrows. So they cut the whole thing and moved “Carry On My Wayward Son” to one of the newly-added driving montages at the end. Which is why we awkwardly had both songs play back-to-back--again, such a strange choice unless they were out of options and couldn’t exactly buy rights to a new track or compose anything else.

And so we were left with the shadow of the finale that we deserved, that Cas and Dean deserved. We were left without resolution or happiness or words. Bobo told us the most important thing about happiness is just “saying it” and our characters were silenced without anyone ever knowing the truth.

I think the writers might have known and been given the new party line that “Misha never filmed, he couldn’t, sorry, it was COVID, no one’s fault!” But I don’t think most of the cast even knew it had happened until they watched the finale on Thursday with us (though they might have been confused why the bit from 15x19 was sliced, they could reasonably have assumed it was a time thing and also BL episodes don’t make sense anyway). Why do I say that?

Well, first of all, Misha started sending out a bunch of excited texts to fans with some old BTS pictures about an hour before the show started airing on EST. He also wanted his children to see the episode, his YOUNG children. Why would he show them such a traumatic episode if their Dad wasn’t in it? What if it was because he wanted them to witness what was going to be a monumental moment in queer television history that their DAD got to be a part of? And then that was all dashed.

Which is why I think the cast and crew went almost completely radio silent the next day. I don’t think they knew. And based on how they have been acting on social media since then, I think many of them are absolutely furious, but they have been silenced because of NDAs, because they want to find work again in a cutthroat industry, because they don’t want to bring down the hellfire of Warner Brothers Entertainment upon themselves. So the most we have gotten is a little acknowledgement from the MERCHANDISING COMPANY trying to validate our pain (god bless Shirts, she is a LIFESAVER) and a response to my salty tweet about keeping good stuff in the closet from Adam Williams (the VFX coordinator) that seemed to acknowledge the validity of my complaint.

Then there was a scramble behind the scenes, I would bet my life. Talking points were fed to the boys who had panels today, to CE, to all the cast and crew:

Toe the party line. Misha never filmed. This was always about COVID. Do not mention Destiel. Do not mention Dean’s feelings for Cas. Do not promote the Castiel Project or anything that validates the idea that this was anything less than a superb ending.

And that is why we have heard so little from the cast on this front, and what we have heard has been muddled and contradictory. That is why the writers are saying nothing. That is why we have been left adrift.

Now before I close this out, I do want to say that I really, genuinely do not think this was on the writers at all. I feel like they tried to give us the best ending that they could, in a writers room that we know is notorious for splitting along party lines about the overall story (BL and Singer, who have always been about the brothers and their man-pain vs. Dabb and the rest who always seemed to want more for them and for Cas). I think they did everything in their power to at least end with Dean and Cas happy together. If they could give us nothing else, they wanted to give us that. And then the network took it from them. From us. From everyone.

For the sake of fucking money.

And the WORST PART OF IT ALL, for me, is that in the wake of this disaster, the fans have been left to try and figure out what happened. We have had to wade through a mire of conflicting information in the midst of all of our collective anger and grief over this garbage ending of a show many of us have loved and even relied on for YEARS, all the while wondering if we’re just fucking crazy, if we have all fallen collectively into the hole of conspiracy theories. That hurts ESPECIALLY badly because we have taken so many hits over the years from other groups on social media saying we were crazy for seeing things that weren’t there (especially Destiel), for writing meta and analyzing tropes and believing the evidence of our eyes and ears. The network has made us relive that entire nightmare WHILE processing our grief for a show we wanted so badly to celebrate and which instead we now have to mourn.

So again guys, I cannot prove that this is exactly what happened at all; this is simply my idea of what may have happened. But right now, it’s the most sense I can make from this mess, and to be honest, the act of typing it out has helped me enormously in my processing of it all. I feel like I can see more clearly, like I know where to target my outrage and where to direct empathy. I feel like just fucking maybe, I might be able to do my job tomorrow without bursting into tears at random moments.

I really hope that this post has helped some of you to, in some small way, process this too. We get through this the way that Misha told us at his panel this morning, the way the writers have told us to do all season long...we throw out the story God gave us and we make it better. We write our characters the happy endings they deserve.

We save them.

One last thing--if you have not already, please consider channeling your rage into a donation to one of the five causes our fandom has put together to pay tribute to our beloved show and to mourn the ending it should have had:

-The Castiel Project

-Dean Winchester is Love

-Sam Winchester Project

-The National Association of the Deaf

-The Jack Kline Project

#supernatural season 15 #spn finale #speculation #destiel #destielgate #the ending was not the ending #fuck the cw #trust the story #we were robbed

3K notes · View notes

hanjizung · 3 years ago

Text

♡ Dreamy Welcome. ♡

Lee Minho x Reader.

Word count: 4.4K

♡ Warnings ♡: SMUT; (mentions of) orgasm control, fingering, masturbation, (a bit of) exhibitionism, creampie, breeding kink, basically just love making, pet names.

Hello! im back with another request from when i reblogged this promp list ! [8) “If you’re going to act like a little brat then I’m going to treat you like a little brat.”] hope you enjoy!

You had been missing Minho a lot since he went on tour, missed everything about him; his voice, his laugh, his smile, the way he called your name, how he hugged you and kissed you on the forehead after teasing you… His whole absence felt weird, it wasn’t killing you but you missed him a lot, you needed him back as soon as possible.

There was an unwritten list of things you wanted to do with him once he was back; first you had to hug him, tell him how much you had missed him while kissing his face and making him feel a little shy from all the affection you were giving him in front of his members, then you would steal him and take him to your house for a movie night where the only thing you would actually focus on is going to be take care of him, massage him if he wants, play with his hair and cuddle with him on your couch until he fell asleep, and the last thing on your list was to make him fuck you senseless.

Of course the two of you had the occasional phone sex, it was mostly him hiding in the bathroom between practices and telling you to touch yourself for him, moaning his name but never cumming, because he said that he wanted you to cum on his cock, he wanted to be the one to give you an orgasm that would have you seeing stars.

That was the promise he made during one of those calls late at night that had you feeling needy and in not a very good mood for the next day, it made you feel frustrated that you stayed always at the edge, but you were equally proud that you hadn’t broken his one rule.

The day he called you and told you with a happy voice that his last concert was in 3 more nights and that in two days after that you would be able to see him, you exploded. When you went to work you got asked multiple times what had happened that you couldn't stop smiling, making you laugh and lie to them that you were just excited for something that happened to one of your cousins or something like that.

It was a more contrastive mood than how you behaved last week, bags under your eyes, eyes semi closed from how tired you were and not so happy because your beautiful boyfriend required a session of self love where he got to edge you multiple times. Twice, to be more precise, the sudden change surprised everyone at your workplace. You seemed more energetic and focused, you did all your work with a smile on your face and you sang during your break when you ate.

You asked your boss if you could leave earlier one day, and seeing how competent you were behaving he accepted, wishing you good luck and telling you that he expected you to stay working as efficiently as possible and that he was happy with your work pace. You simply nodded, not hearing much of his speech because everything that was in your mind was your beautiful boyfriend.

Days passed quickly and you found yourself showering at 4 am to be able to go and receive your boyfriend and the rest of your friends in time. You would be done getting ready at 5, then had to get a taxi to the airport and then you would be able to spend the day with all of them, just like you wanted.

The early morning was cold, and you were thankful that you decided to wear an appropriate coat to protect yourself from the weather. You placed your hands together out of nervousness, anticipating the moment that all of them would arrive, walking through their fans and following the staff to where their vans were parked.

True… you couldn't run to Minho and wrap your arms around him. You had to keep the black mask above your nose and the dark glasses to avoid raising suspicion and pretend to be another staff member. Your relationship was a secret…

Sighing, a plane finally landed and the giant bodyguards that you sometimes brought candies to started walking towards it, you running not too far from them and breathing in to try and control your excitement, failing momentarily when you saw a group of men walk out followed by some other people close behind them. You recognized each one of your friends as soon as they walked out, they wore comfortable clothes and they seemed to be needing some more rest.

The real staff instructed them to go to the previously prepared cars, and you rushed to find your dance machine boyfriend.

You waited for Changbin, Jisung and Seungmin to get inside the car, Minho noticed you and he got in, waiting for you to close the door after you hopped in to hug you and pull you close to him in a loving manner. In the front seats, there was one of the bodyguards and the designated driver. You snuggled closer to Minho, he whispered "I missed you a lot" for you to hear only and he kissed your forehead gently, making you feel incredibly happy.

Not even 10 minutes inside the car, and soft snores could be heard, Minho's weight felt heavy in your side, but you didn't care, you were happy knowing that from that day he would get to rest for a long period of time, and you expected to spend a lot of time with him.

The stillness of the car made you open your eyes, rubbing them to get accustomed to the sun rays filters through the clear front window and you realized that you had finally arrived at the dorms. The bodyguard opened the door for you, giving you his hand to help you out. You shook Minho gently to help him wake up, yawning when he looked at you with disoriented eyes, and then you took the waiting hand to wait for them outside.

When all of them were outside the car, you helped them walk to their corresponding dorm, helping Minho walk with closed eyes because he wasn't fully awake, and when you finally got to your destination, the door was unlocked and there was a mountain of baggage and bags ready to unpack, but that would be a problem for later. In the kitchen, sitting with his laptop in front of him was Chan, he gave a low "good mornin" when he saw who had arrived, continuing to do whatever it was that he had on display in the screen in front of him. You nodded, silently greeting him and then walked to Minho's shared room. He plopped down on his bed, moving and patting the side next to him for you to lay down next to him, and you did.

"I missed you" you whispered, burying your face in his chest and hugging him tightly, making him chuckle quietly.

"I missed you too, hot stuff" he whispered back, looking down at you and patting your back gently.

The two of you stayed like that, there was no need to speak any more words, you were finally holding him, you were finally in his arms and you felt so loved. This was your safe place.

With those thoughts in your head, you dozed off again, your breathing almost syncing with Minho's steady one.

You had a beautiful dream with him, it started with you sitting on the porch of your childhood home observing the street until a younger looking Minho appeared and took your hand. He guided you to the insides of the place that used to be your home. He kissed you playfully at first, then he took your face with his hand and held you in place as the heat of the kiss increased and moments later he was eating you out in the kitchen aisle.

You were enjoying the dream probably a little too much, because you were woken up suddenly by your boyfriend's hands on your shoulder, moving you gently to bring you back to the real world.

"Seems like you had an interesting dream, didn't you?" he said. You blushed, hitting him gently on his chest and groaning.

"Maybe I wouldn't dream such things if someone," you shoot him a glare "didn't get me all worked up and then didn't allow me to cum" you complained, making him laugh. You were daring him, and you knew that, but you needed to know how much he would wait until he finally gave you what you wanted and fucked you hard like he'd done before he left.

"Oh, really, baby? It's my fault, then?" he asked. You pouted and nodded, looking at him with needy eyes. "Then I must do something to reward you for being so good, right?" his hand snaked on your tummy, getting to the edge of your shirt and going under it until it reached your breast.

His hand squeezed you, gaining a sigh from you. Two of his fingers played with your nub moment later, he shifted so he would be on his side and able to play with you, his lips finding a home in your neck and kissing you lazily, the caress of his lips against your skin and the sensation of him teasing your nipoles felt amazing, it was enough for you to start getting wet and your breathing to turn irregular, but all that ended when Jisung shamelessly opened the door.

"Hey guys, who's awake already? Does anyone wanna watch a movie?" he asked no one in particular, Minho's movement stopped and his arm quickly moved to wrap around your waist, his head fell against his pillow and you closed your eyes again to pretend to still be asleep. It was almost as if nothing between the two of you had happened, which would actually seem like it were true if both your hearts weren't racing from almost being caught.

You heard movement from the other side of the room, you recognized Hyunjin's steps passing through the door accompanied with a humm and later Seungmin's voice was heard, answering Jisung who was still standing by the entrance.

"I'm kinda hungry. I'll join if we order something to eat" he said, the sound of feet against the floor letting you know he was ready to leave the room.

"Sure, let's try to convince Chan to pay," Jisung responded, waiting for Seungmin to walk with him to the living room, but when Seungmin reached him, Jisung didn't move. "Shouldn't we wake Minho and ask him if he wants something as well?"

"Nah, he stayed up the whole flight I think, and besides, he's with Y/N. Let's order something for them and let them sleep," Seungmin said, his tired voice making it clear that he didn't want to deal with trying to wake Minho up.

The answer seemed to be enough for Jisung, and the two of them left, closing the door behind them. Just then, you allowed yourself to sigh in relief.

Next to you, Minho rolled on his side, his back now at you making you confused. "What are you doing?" you asked.

"You heard them, they think we're asleep, so we might go back to sleep again, don't you think?" he responded, his tone still low. You whined, hugging his whole body as best as you could, your mouth reaching his ear to whisper to him:

"But I'm so wet… are you really going back to sleep and leave me like this?" you cried to him, you knew he could feel you putting on the tone of voice you decided to use, but he didn't say anything, so you tried your luck again.

"Please, if you're not going to fuck me at least finger me, I've missed you so much… I've been waiting for you to use me for so long" you continued, begging with a low voice and pressing your lips against the shell of his ear, starting a trail of kisses down all the uncovered skin you could see, high diving yourself in your mind when you felt him shiver under your touch.

Minho finally sighed, giving in and turning so now he would be facing you, your eyes almost shone when his right hand went to your hip and his face got closer to yours to steal a passionate kiss that you now would end up making you feel like the world was spinning.

You couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips when both of you tried to recuperate your normal breathing, drawing a raised eyebrow from your boyfriend. You simply took his face with both of your hands and started kissing him again, suddenly one of your hands leaving his cheek to guide the hand resting on your hip to where you needed him most. If he noticed, he had been nice enough to not say anything.

Or that's what you thought, because then he broke the kiss and growled quietly, his fingers playing with the button of your jeans until he was able to open them and he wasted no more time, his slender digit slipping past your underwear and feeling all the wetness between your legs.

"Oh, Y/N, you're so fucking wet, kitten" he muttered. His hand moved away from where you wanted it to be, making you complain and furrow your eyebrows while he showed you his glistening finger before guiding it to your lips for you to lick it clean yourself. Minho rolled his eyes when you grabbed his hand and made it touch you again, you didn't care how needy you seemed, everything you could think of was how much you'd love for him to rail you.

His fingers started working on you, slowly caressing your clit and gathering your essence before he entered you, making you sigh. He was staring at you, silently admiring your features that showed just how good he was making you feel. You weren't looking at him, your eyes closed as you tried to focus on the way he was making you feel, but you didn't need to see him to know how much he was grinning, proud to have you biting your lip to not moan too loud. At some point your breathing got heavier and your legs started to tremble, the last signal meaning that you were close was when your walls embraced his fingers, your mouth opened as you found home in the ecstasy-like sensation, Minho tried to prolong it by over stimulating you.

After a moment, he finally removed his fingers from your inside and licked it clean from your juices while you recovered.

"Was that better?" he asked, gaining a humming from you as an answer.

"It was good, but I still want you to fuck me" you finally said, pouting. He opened his eyes wide, as if he was actually surprised, and said:

"You're so greedy, my needy baby wants something else besides my fingers, huh? Go clean yourself and let's go to your house then. I'll give you the best welcome back fuck of your life" he kissed your forehead, waiting for you to stand up after you heard what he said.

"Really?" you asked, full of hope. He nodded, and you almost jumped from the bed to run to the bathroom, standing in front of the door fixing your jeans before walking out the room, remembering that you weren't alone.

You made your way silently to the bathroom, saving your hand at Jeongin who apparently had gone to his room for something and happened to find you on his journey to go back to the living room. He seemed tired, as if he hadn't fully tested, but his memory worked just fine because before you entered the bathroom he told you that they were going to watch a movie and had called for some takeout food for everyone. You thanked him and got inside to do what you had to do.

An hour later, you found yourself cuddling Mingo on the only individual couch after eating and watching a comedy with the rest of the members. Some were on their phone, some still eating and others were cuddling just like you were. It was a relaxed night, and you were having a good time, but the words Minho had told you earlier resonated in your head and your pussy was louder than your heart, screaming at you to act out and make Minho take you home to complete his promise.

Covered with a blanket, your hand snaked down his form and entered his joggers, feeling up his cock. You weren't looking at him to know his reaction, but he quickly squeezed you as a warning to not continue your devilish plans.

You didn't care, continuing to tease him until he got hard enough and that's when you pressed yourself against him. He sighed, but pushed himself against you almost as if encouraging you to keep going.

"Stop, Y/N. We'll leave after the movie is over" he whispered, trying to get you to reason with him.

The answer he got was you pulling his joggers and boxers down with one hand carefully, freeing his hardened cock from its prison and wrapping your hand around him, making him hiss. One of his hands went to your neck, pulling your head back to tell you one last thing.

“Kitten, if you’re going to act like a little brat then I’m going to treat you like a little brat when we get to your house" he murmured, quiet enough for you to listen to his words only.

If you were going to be punished, you might as well continue what you started.

Minho's hold on you tightened when he realized that you had set your mind on torturing him, you knew the risk of possibly getting caught was high and that it made everything way more exciting, but all your tries at being subtle and not drag any attention to the both of you were affecting him horribly. He hated how you ceased all movement when someone shifted or how you tensed when everyone stopped talking was like pure hell for Minho.

His cock twitched, and he faked a yawn to hide the noise that came out of him. You took advantage of it, and played along with it.

"Oh, you're still tired? We should go back to your room so you can sleep, don't you think?" you whispered, long enough for the rest of the members to hear.

Minho caught up with what you were doing, faking another yawn and hugging your body as if you were a plushie. He nodded, and you fixed his clothes quickly so the two of you could stand up.

Minho had other plans, and stood up with you in his arms, the blanket covering his boner. Everyone's eyes were on you two, so you said goodnight and entered the shared room again. Once inside, he didn't even turn the light on, walking straight to the bed after closing the door and dropping you there.

"I can't believe you're making me break Chan's 'no fucking in the dorms' rule" he said, taking his shirt off. You laughed, starting to undress as well.

"As if you really cared about rules" you said, opening your arms for him when you and him were finally fully naked.

"You're right, I only care about you and fucking you. You'll get your punishment later" he replied, hovering over you and positioning his member at your entrance, pressing your foreheads together as he slowly entered you. He kissed you before he started slamming into you, trying to maintain your moans to a minimum so the whole 'going to sleep' act could still be believable to your friends.

With your arms thrown around his neck and your legs hugging his waist, you felt the happiest, like you were in heaven. Finally, Minho was filling you with his cock, making you feel like he was the missing piece in your life that left a hole in your constant day to day with his sole absence, but now he was back, fucking you, kissing you; loving you, and it made your head and your heart swim with happiness, because he was back and you would have him like before he left.

He was thrusting you carefully, slowly but not too much to make you feel bored or annoy you, it was almost the right speed to make the moment last longer, a try to be more passionate with you. Minho's grunts and your heavy breathing were all you cared about, you forgot about everything outside the door, but the way your reasonable side made you moan quietly still brought a sense of reality to you, you whimpered and opened your mouth to exhale, his own breathing on your face making you open your eyes to look at him while he kept working, rocking his hips against yours and trying to make you cum for the second time of the day.

"I love you" you told him quietly, looking up at his sweaty face and pulling him in by his neck to kiss him lovingly like you meant to do when you saw him coming out of the plane.

Minho smiled against your lips, allowing his weight to fall on you and support himself on his left elbow, using his right hand to caress your cheek and move a strand of your hair that had gotten on your face so he could admire you better. When he finished the kiss, you thought he would return to the old position, supporting himself with both arms, but he didn't and instead he started kissing your whole face, making you giggle and close your eyes, with each kiss he left on your face you could say he tried to speed up to finally make you reach your well deserved orgasm, everything in that moment felt so intimate, and the addition of the kisses on your face and him gently cupping your cheek let you know this wasn't simple fucking anymore.

You would make a disgusted face at how cheesy it sounded, but in that very moment you couldn't describe the intimate activity as anything else than love making.

It wouldn't be the first time that Minho treats you as gentle as this, but something… felt different. You couldn't quite tell what it was, maybe because it had been months since you were with him, or because you missed him so much, but the ambient felt more mature in the aspect that you knew that his sweet whispers praising you and reminding you that he loved you as well and that you meant so much to him were not just words.

You wanted to cry, but you knew this wasn't the moment, your quiet moans mixed with giggles and adoring smiles disappeared when the new hard thrusting made your walls tighten around Minho's cock, and without any advice you came. You knew that there was a high percentage that the boys already knew what the two of you were up to thanks to the cracking of the bed and the specific noise of skin slapping sounds, but you still wanted to try and drown your moans to simulate that you were sleeping.

"Ah, baby…" Minho grunted, his face hiding in the crook of your neck to then whisper to you "I'm gonna cum…" followed by the twitching of his cock inside you.

"C-cum inside me, fill me up" you said back, your broken voice and tucked out features when he moved to see you being all he needed to release his seed inside you.

The warm sensation of his semen flowing in you made you smile, and your panting boyfriend pulled out of you to take the tissues box he hid under his bed for all occasions.

You looked at him when he kneeled in front of you to clean you, knowing how tired he actually was by the way his eyes were closing, and you appreciated how he still worried to clean you and not let you all sticky, very sweet of him.

The two of you dressed up lazily, this time laying in bed to sleep like you had said that you would do some time ago.

"I'm so happy you're back, I really missed you" you whispered, your hand resting flat on his chest as you listened to his heart beating under you.

"I'm glad to be back as well, kitten. I thought I would go crazy if I spent more days without seeing you" he joked, patting your head with his hand.

"Let's not think about it now, I had a hard time without cumming when you weren't here" he laughed at your words responding by squeezing you a bit.

"Well, if you're going to be this needy every time I come back, I don't mind leaving you as much" he said back, tone so serious that it scared you.

"You're not being serious, right?" you moved, looking at his face. He had his eyes closed, but the faint shadow of a smile creeping on his lips. He opened them to look at you before he answered you.

"Of course not, kitten. The last thing I want is to be away from you, it's so hard to be far from you when I love you this much" he finally said, making you sigh in relief and your heart throb inside your chest.

"It's not my fault that you love me so much, you're only guilty for making me love you so bad" you smiled, going back to resting on his chest.

"Shhh, you know, that I'm the best that's happened in your life, but we can talk about how awesome I am later, now sleep. I promise I'll be here when you wake up" he moved, shifting to press a kiss on your forehead.

"I hope so, you promised me the fuck of my life when we go to my house and I can't wait for that" you laughed, poking his side.

"We'll see when tomorrow comes, but sleep first. Good night, baby, I love you."

#skz smut #skz fanfiction #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfiction #lee know smut #lee know x reader #skz lee know smut #lee know x you #minho smut #minho x reader #skz minho smut #skz minho #original content #mine #by me #scheduled post

288 notes · View notes

messers-moony · 4 years ago

Text

Comics 2 | A.G

Paring: Aidan Gallagher X Fem!Reader

Summary: Aidan meets an unusually pretty girl at a library while trying to find a textbook for school

Warnings: Cursing

Years later, Aidan and Y/n were now twenty-five. All these years and Aidan hadn’t seen her since he gifted her the comic book when they were just twenty. All these years later and he still loved her.

He left a bookmark in there on purpose, one with his number, but yet, she never called. It made his mind wander. Why wasn’t she calling? Maybe she wasn’t fond of calling, but even then, she never texted either.

A certain feeling of defeat lingered in his heart. Maybe she didn’t like him like that. Her words were stuck in his mind; they lagged in his head like a broken record every time he was to fall asleep.

“ Y/n L/n. Remember it. “

Why was he to remember it? She was a comic book artist, for Christ's sake, not an upcoming actress. As far as he knew, there would never be a significance to her name. A new Netflix show was in the making, another one based on comic books.

Of course, Aidan got the call. The call was a producer begging him to audition for the leading role. He would be perfect for this role, swore the producer. Aidan was hesitant but did it anyway.

Aidan wasn’t the only one in the audition room, of course, but he was only here because of the pleading the producer did. He auditioned, and that was that. Within a week's notice, they would notify him.

On his way home, he stopped by a library, the very same library he met the girl at. Sighing, he walked to the comic book section and picked up the series of comics. There were five in the series, and he bought all of them.

He walked home with a backpack filled with his belongings and now new comic books. Walking into his apartment, he unzipped his bag and took out the first comic. The male ignored who wrote and illustrated it. It didn’t really matter. Did it?

The brunette read through the first comic and was hooked almost immediately. He read through them relatively quickly, and when he finished, he was agitated. The books were completed on a cliffhanger, only leading him to assume there had to be a sixth book soon.

Three days went by, and Aidan couldn’t help but reread the comic books for a more thorough analysis. The more he read, the more he saw how similar he and the main character was.

Everything down to the hair, the dimples, the smile, and the eyes were the exact same. The mannerisms being almost identical scared him. But he realized why the producer begged him for this role. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said Aidan was the perfect candidate for it.

He finished the series a second time and stared at the cover. That’s when he realized it and then began to scold himself for how dense he could possibly be.

“ Written and Illustrated by Y/n L/n “

We’re the words written across the top of the book. That’s why the main character was so similar to him, because the girl who wrote it knew who he was. She was observant, hella observant.

Within a week's notice, as promised, Aidan got a call saying he got the role and they would fly him to New York to begin filming. He’d be leaving in a month, probably the least amount of notice he’s been given before filming a show.

Nonetheless, the month went by faster than you could blink, and he was on a plane to New York. The set was much bigger than he imagined and made his way to the producers.

“ Aidan, you came! How wonderful! “ The producer from the phone exclaimed happily, “ My names Alex. I’m so ecstatic you came. “

Alex put his hand out to shake, which Aidan accepted politely, “ I assume you’ve read the comics by now? “ A familiar voice queried.

“ I have, actually. “ Aidan replied, turning around to be met with the dyed-haired female, “ I told you, remembering my name would come in handy. “ Y/n winked.

Aidan snickered, “ Why make your main character almost exactly like me? “ Aidan questioned, fully serious, “ Because Gallagher, you’re intriguing. You also seem to attract the best audience. Not to mention you always put on a show. “ Y/n said with prominent confidence.

The way his last name rolled off her tongue almost made him faint. He adored her and wanted her to be his. Now that she was here, he’d do anything in his power to make her his.

“ So you’re using me to make your show popular? “ The male joked, “ No, don’t take it the wrong way. I used you because you’re hardworking, and you put everything into your role. You, my love, are perfect for this role. “ Y/n responded, and Aidan’s cheeks flushed at the pet name.

“ Now, I must be going. However, I will see you on set tomorrow, I presume? “ She questioned with a soft smile, “ Yeah. Definitely. “ Aidan breathed as she left.

A hand was laid upon his shoulder, “ You are completely head over heels for her, huh? “ A male voice spoke in his ear, making him jump, “ Jesus Christ Robert, where did you come from? Why are you here? “ Aidan heaved as his hand was on his heart.

“ I’ve actually earned myself a role as well as Elliot Page. I’ve never seen you so entranced. “ Robert commented, “ She's been stuck in my head for years. “ Aidan murmured.

Robert had a face of curiosity, “ We met like five years ago at a library, and I talked to her for only two hours, but by then, she had me completely wrapped around her finger. “ Aidan explained, and Robert raised an eyebrow, “ She moved the next week, and I hadn’t seen her since. “

“ Well. Better make your move soon. I’ve seen guys eyeing her up all day. “ Robert replied as he walked off.

Months later, Y/n was right. Aidan was absolutely perfect for the role without even trying. Granted, the character was practically him, but he excelled in making the role his own.

Y/n and Aidan had gotten quite close throughout those months. They seemed pretty fond of each other. She was confident, intelligent, and caring. He was thoughtful, kind, and sweet. The pair made a loving match.

However, the girl's heart was guarded, she had been let down so many times, and she didn’t want to ruin the friendship she had acquired with the famous male. Aidan, in his free time, had been working on an EP. The title and main song on it was held close to his heart.

After a couple of dates and a lot of convincing, she gave in. Aidan Gallagher had now achieved the girl of his dreams, Y/n L/n. She was everything he wanted and so much more. He was captivated by her and made sure he showed the world.

Every chance he got, he posted her everywhere. His fans absolutely adored her, possibly even more than he did. Saturday lives his fans spent begging to see the admirable female when she wasn’t present. It honestly made Aidan quite jealous.

Regardless it made Aidan’s heart feel unbelievably full that both he and his fans loved her as much as he desired. Mornings were spent holding each other with subtle morning kisses. Nights were spent eating take-out and playing the original Mario kart after many arguments that it was better than the newer versions.

Filming was almost complete, and Aidan’s stay in New York was coming to a very prominent close. A day neither lover was looking forward to. His home was in Los Angeles, and hers was in New York. There was no changing that.

“ Do you really have to go? “ Questioned the teary-eyed female, “ Unfortunately. “ Aidan sighed.

They both stood in JFK Airport as close as they could before having to depart. Aidan’s hands held her tear-stained cheeks, and she moved stray strands of hair from his forehead.

“ I promise, I will come back for you. “ Aidan pledged to, and she sniffled, nodding, “ I’ll move in with you if you want. “

Y/n looked up slightly guilty, “ I don’t want to be the reason you leave your hometown. You grew up there. Your entire family is there. I would feel awful taking you away from them. “ She admitted, “ I would be living here willingly. Plus, there’s more opportunities acting-wise here, believe it or not. Hollywood isn’t all it’s made out to be. The United Nations is also home to New York. It’d be closer to everything. “ Aidan explained.

“ If- If that’s what you want, then I wouldn’t hesitate. “ Y/n smiled softly.

Aidan pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, “ Then this isn’t really goodbye, is it? “ Aidan’s whisper left a hot breath lingering on her lips, “ No, it isn’t. “ Y/n replied.

“ Stop your crying then. I hate seeing you cry. I will come back. “ He muttered softly, wiping her tears and kissing her forehead, “ I love you. “

“ I love you too. Be safe, please. Text me when you get on and when you land, okay? “ She requested, “ Always. “ Aidan simpered.

Gently he let her go and walked away with a tiny wave. Now there were only two things left to do. Pack up all of his stuff and play one last show in Los Angeles before leaving his home.

The male pack quickly when he arrived home, way too excited to live with his new partner. His show was scheduled for that night. Tonight he’d be playing his brand new song, the main song on his latest EP, the one he held close to his heart.

Nerves ran through his body like no tomorrow as he stepped up on stage. Screams were heard throughout the entire venue, making him smile brightly.

“ Hello everyone. “ Aidan greeted, getting screams in response, “ As you all may know, I will not be living in LA for much longer. New York seems more like home now than it’s ever seemed, so after this show, I’ll be getting on a plane to my new home. “

“ While I’ll play your favorite’s such as songs like Blue Neon and Fourth of July, there’s a new song at the end I’d love for your feedback on. I hold this song very close to my heart, and I hope you all will as well. So let’s get this started. “ Aidan informed with a gleeful smile present on his lips.

Aidan began strumming the guitar and singing the all too familiar lyrics. Applause was given in between each song, only encouraging his love for music as he continued to sing— his fans sung along with him giving Aidan a sense of love and commitment.

Finally, the last song was due to play, “ I call this last one, Comics. “

#aidan gallagher x reader #aidan gallagher #aidan gallagher imagine #Aidan Gallagher x y/n #Aidan Gallagher x you #five hargreeves #number five #number five x reader

129 notes · View notes

katytheinspiredworkaholic · 4 years ago

Note

write about the bau at waffle house 🧇

YESSSS! WISH GRANTED <3

(Now that I’ve written it idek you guys xD this got long and weird and mostly talks about how everyone orders the strangest shit, bless this night shift waitress. Hope you love it babe. Mwah!)

Time zones are a finicky thing.

Sometimes, when a case is over, and the team loads up onto the jet ready to fly back home, they are able to leave at a later but reasonable time. Evening hours, literally flying off into the sunset. But if they are coming back from the West coast? Four hours of air travel and three hours gained on top of that leave them landing sometimes at 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning in Quantico, Virginia.

Sometimes, they’ve all slept on the plane, are wired and not ready to go home, and find themselves starving once they step out onto the tarmac. But it’s the middle of the night, they are far from any of their usual dive spots, and the closest thing open 24/7 -- is the Waffle House a half a mile off the air strip.

“Order up!”

They become regulars, the same middle-aged waitress (appropriately named Ruth) runs the night shift nearly seven days a week, and knows their orders by heart. Scribbling them down for the line cook as soon as the team comes stumbling through the doors, taking up two booths like a group of over-sized teenagers. Road weary from the case, restless from the flight, and her favorite customers by far.

“Triple stack of Pecan waffles for the boss,” she recites, dropping the plate in front of Hotch as he snatches up an entire bottle of syrup before anyone else can. His tie flipped over his shoulder so it’s out of the way. This is his only carb-related indulgence that he ever allows himself -- but they’ve been coming here so often, now, it’s starting to become a bad habit.

“Waffles with chocolate and as much whipped cream as I can manage.” She winks at Reid as he takes the plate from her eagerly, the contents more whipped cream than waffles. He doesn’t bother trying to take the syrup from Hotch, Reid knows better, and Hotch usually pours a little on his plate for him anyway when he looks up enough to notice. They always sit side by side for this very reason.

“Cheeseburger with a fried egg and bacon, you know one of these days it’s going to catch up to you,” Ruth teases, placing Rossi’s plate in front of him.

“And I will die a happy man, with a full stomach,” Rossi informs her. “Why don’t you ever get on them for the sugar intake? That much whipped cream can’t be good for anyone.”

“She likes us better,” Reid points out, taking a bite that is literally all whipped cream just to prove his point.

“Two orders of bacon for the lady in the leather boots,” Ruth chuckles, pointedly waving Prentiss to get her crossed heels out of the walkway. Morgan and JJ have the single seats booth, and she refuses to be excluded so she always pulls up a chair. “I’m sure your boss will share the syrup.”

“You’ll have to pry it from his cold, dead hands,” Rossi chuckles, making a few of the others laugh too.

“That can be arranged,” Prentiss threatens lightly, but Hotch is already giving them half-hearted glares.

“Just give it right back.”

“Cheesesteak melt bowl, extra extra steak,” Ruth continues on over their banter, handing a piping hot bowl to Morgan. “And hot sauce, the good stuff.”

“You are an angel, thank you,” Morgan gushes, taking the bottle from her and creating a monstrosity only he can consume.

“And a large order of covered hashbrowns. Ya still need that bottle of ketchup, or did the pregnancy cravings finally go away? How’s that little boy of yours?” Ruth finishes in a rush, resting her hip on the booth and immediately taking the offered phone with images of Henry on them.

“Finally sleeping through the night, thank God,” JJ tells her, drowning her cheese smothered hashbrowns in ketchup, much to Morgan and Emily’s horror.

“Jage, I love you, but that’s disgusting,” Prentiss says gravely.

“You’re literally eating a plate of bacon with syrup, and you’re judging me.”

“I would be if there was any left,” Prentiss complains, holding up the bottle. “I mean -- Jesus Christ, Hotch, did you drink it?”

“Y’all, this is a Waffle House, you aren’t going to run us out of maple syrup,” Ruth teases, taking the bottle to refill, and narrowly dodging the flurry of bright colors and heels that comes bursting through the door. “I got your tea and raisin toast coming, honey.”

“Thank you!” Garcia calls as she rushes over. “I’m here, I’m here!” She scoots into the single seat booth with Morgan, under his arm and stealing a kiss only to blanch at the hot sauce there. “Gah! Too spicy, too spicy, love! How can you even taste that?” she exclaims. Pawing at her tongue and taking the offered spoonful of whipped cream Reid procures from the other booth to soothe her taste buds.

“Honestly, y’all don’t even have the strangest orders in here,” Ruth laughs, serving up Garcia’s tea and toast, passing Hotch is syrup and refilling everyone’s coffee and barely getting a word in edgewise over the continued raised voices. “You don’t have to rag on each other so hard.”

“It’s what family does,” Rossi says with a smirk of a smile, his words nearly drowned out by the group still jabbing and joking loudly. Filling the small restaurant with shrieks of laughter and voices bouncing off the wall to wall windows.

“Well, you know I love me my FBI family breakfasts,” Ruth says with a smile, observing the grown, tough as nails agents letting go of everything they face day-to-day outside that diner. Allowing themselves to act a little crazy, unrefined, relaxed in a way that can only be found at 2:00am and no where else. Hotch and Reid knocking shoulders and elbows like no one will notice, JJ and Emily with their feet tangled under the table, Morgan and Garcia wrapped up in each other like they always want to be, while Rossi and Ruth sharing knowing looks when the team slips more than usual.

But it’s okay. That’s what they’re here for.

“Keep ‘em coming, Ruth,” Rossi says with a chuckle, offering his coffee mug to her as another roar of laughter echoes around them. “I think we’ll be here a while.”

#asks #cee my love I hope this is what you had in mind <3 #don't mind my subtle attempts at inserting my favorite ships #little bit of HotchReid and Jemily and Morcia if you squint #Morcia actually gets a smooch tho #honestly idek you guys but it was fun #closest to crack I'm going to ever get #katyswriting

185 notes · View notes

thatfanficstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Impossible - 16

Pairing: Eric Northman x Reader

Warnings and stuff: nope

***

Sookie got off the plane in Dallas with you and Sam trailing behind. You smiled at her chipper attitude as she greeted the limo driver. Sam leaned toward you. “How many of those did she have exactly?” he asked referring to the little bottle of vodka she held in her hand.

You shrugged. “I have no idea. Probably a lot. She drinks when she’s nervous.”

Sam huffed in annoyance and picked up his speed. He was by her side by the time the driver spoke up.

“You’re late. You were supposed to be here two hours ago.”

“We have no control over the airline,” you responded with an arched brow. Your eyes ran over the man in front of you. His gaze kept darting around the hanger and sweat beaded on his brow. Dallas had a leak. “Sookie, Sam, you should get in the car.”

“That’s okay, Y/N. I’ll wait out here with you,” Sookie said.

“Sam, car,” you repeated and the shifter steered his girlfriend in that direction.

The man attempted to move toward the car and you shot your hand out to grab him by the neck. “You and I, however, are going to wait for my mate. I believe he would like a word with you.”

“M-mate?” the man stammered as his face paled.

A smirk twisted your lips. “Failed to mention that, did they?”

They would. An angry vampire was one thing. A furious mate was quite another.

“What is the meaning of this, alskling?” The smooth voice came from behind you, only a hint of annoyance in his tone. Well, speak of the devil.

“Our driver seems rather nervous, baby. Thought you might want to have a talk with him.”

“Indeed.” His grip replaces yours on the man’s neck. You climbed into the limo and moved all the way to the front seat so Eric would have plenty of room. He steered the driver to the back, pushing him inside and onto a seat.

“What the hell?” Sam asks as Sookie just smiles as she observes what’s going on. She had way too many of those little bottles of vodka. But as long as she was happy you were happy.

You motioned for Sam to stay quiet and pay attention.

Eric glamoured the asshole and started his interrogation. “What is your name?”

“Leon.”

“Well, Leon, you’re going to answer all of our questions, aren’t you?” Eric’s voice carried that same smooth tenor it always did when he was telling people what to do.

“Yes, sir.” Leon had that vacant note in his voice that all glamoured had when speaking. You’d always hated it, even when it was necessary.

“Good. Who sent you?”

“The Fellowship of the Sun.”

All of you exchanged a look. Well, it had been too sloppy for vampires so you shouldn’t have been surprised.

“But they’re a church,” Sookie protested.

Sam rolled his eyes while you huffed a laugh. “Churches have done a lot worse over the centuries, Sookie. Always proclaiming it was for the greater good. After all, humans that willingly consort with vampires are just as bad as the vamps in their opinion.” You shrugged. There wasn’t really a lot else to say on the subject.

“A name. Who specifically hired you?” Eric snapped.

“I don’t know. It was all by phone. I picked up money at a bus station locker.”

“And what exactly were you hired to do, Leon?” you asked.

“I was supposed to abduct the humans with the Northman party and bring them to the church,” he answered, glancing at you.

Irritation spiked through you. “Did they tell you anything about us?”

“No. There was only supposed to be two of you. They didn’t give me names or even if you were male or female. You were supposed to land well before he woke for the day. Easy, they said.”

So the church only had part of the info. That narrowed down the leak, though hardly anyone was supposed to know you were coming in the first place. The irony wasn’t lost on you that there were exactly zero normal humans in the car apart from the man hired to abduct you. That church was certainly in for a surprise.

“Well, here’s what’s going to happen, Leon,” you said. Eric glanced at you with an arched brow. He was probably annoyed that you’d taken over his interrogation. “You are going to drive us to our hotel. When you report back to the people that hired you, you will tell them the flight was delayed, that there were more humans than you’d expected and that the vampire woke immediately upon arrival. It was clear that we all answered to the vampire and did whatever he instructed us to do.”

Eric smirked. “Yes, the women had visible bite marks. And the male acted as a servant for the three of us. Do you understand all of that, Leon?”

“What—” Sam started and Eric held up a finger to tell him to wait.

“Yes, sir.”

Eric smiled then. “Fantastic. Well, it was lovely getting to know you but we really should be on the way to the hotel now.”

Leon shook his head and blinked rapidly. “Of course. I’ll take you there immediately.”

“Thank you, Leon,” you said. As the driver climbed out of the limo to take his seat behind the steering wheel, Eric moved to sit beside you. Once he assured that the partition was firmly in place, he pulled you tightly against his side. You slid one arm behind him and rested your other hand on his stomach.

“What was that about?” Sam all but snarled as the car began to move.

“I thought it might be a good idea to find out who sent him and why. If that’s okay with you, human.” Eric sounded so incredibly bored.

You hummed, catching your mate’s attention. “Not human.”

Eric looked down at you with a lifted brow. “Interesting.”

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about instructing him to say that Sookie was a walking blood bag.”

“To be fair, he’s supposed to say the same thing about me,” you interjected.

Sam looked you over from top to bottom and opened his mouth before snapping it shut as his gaze shifted back to Eric. Eric’s gaze immediately tightened on you, undoubtedly being fully aware of your desire to give Sam a piece of your mind.

“Actually, I told him to imply that I’m fucking her and drinking from her while I do so,” Eric corrected, his voice taking on an edge of displeasure. You turned your face into his chest to hide your smirk. “Your girlfriend’s safety rests in the fact that no one knows who she is or why she is really here. I intend to keep as few people as possible from finding out the true reason.”

With that, silence filled the limo. Sookie was being surprisingly quiet. Maybe you should give her large amounts of alcohol more often. A beat later, Eric spoke again. “And, Merlotte, should you even think of insulting my mate again, you won’t like the consequences. Understood?”

“Understood,” Sam’s voice was tight. You were sure he was already regretting coming with Sookie and the trip was just getting started.

#eric northman x reader #eric northman x you #eric northman fanfiction #true blood fanfiction #series #impossible

135 notes · View notes

hisfavoritecherry · 4 years ago

Text

right place, right time

summary: harry decides to take a trip to japan in an attempt to take his mind off of some things; that is, until one of the things finds its way back to him.

warning: sadness, degredation, smut, all that good stuff

word count: 3.2k+

January 6, 2019; Tokyo, Japan.

Harry would have never expected to find himself here. Well, he did at some points, but the ideas were never conclusive and he had never actually envisioned himself booking a flight, taking the plane, and arriving in the city that one of his most treasured books was based off of. The trip was obviously an irrational decision and after tour, there was no place he would’ve rather been (other than home, but even that didn’t feel like the right choice at the moment). He needed a new area, a new location, a new setting; to put it simply, a new place to miss you.

You and Harry had broken things off just shortly before he went away for work, explaining that you just couldn’t handle him being away for that long and that maybe, just maybe, it was for the best. You were starting your new job as a journalist for the New York Times and it was a big step in your career for you, and you knew that there should be absolutely nothing that would prevent you from achieving it. Even him.

He agreed, obviously, as he’s always respected you and your aspirations and he knew that he didn’t want to be the one thing that was holding you back. He’s encouraged you to do everything you can to do what you want to do as you’ve encouraged him to do the same, and even if it broke his heart, you deserved it more than anyone he’s ever known in his twenty-four years of life. You stayed friends and would call every now and then, updating him on gossip in the office or just things happening in your everyday life. You’d ask him about events happening around him as well and he would say the same thing every time. That it’s the same-old, that he’s okay, that he misses you. A smile would creep upon your lips as you knew you felt the same way, but nothing would change, no matter how much you both wanted it to.

The only remaining problem was that you stayed on his mind the whole time after you had split, and regardless of how many times he tried to stray away from you, the thought of you always spilled back into his mind like ink on paper; you were his familiarity and he was yours.

He would see someone in the crowd who looked like you; there you were. He went on runs when he managed to get days away from the stage and put his playlist on shuffle, hearing the song you both claimed and danced together to in his kitchen that one time; there you were. He visited a random corner cafe and got your order just to see what all the fuss was about but ended up frowning and hating it deeply because it was too sweet; there you were. Every goddamn chance he got, there you were.

Harry had expected things to change as he disembarked the outing, suggesting that perhaps if he had different people surrounding him, his conceptions would change as well.

They didn’t. It worsened, in fact, and he ended up seeing you more wherever he went. Every face, every place, every name, it brought him back to you and he eventually accepted that you would never go away, or at least would go away in slivers at a time. So to take his mind off of the idea of you for the meanwhile, he used most of his days and nights to go out with friends and find new individuals to satisfy his cravings for the ghost of you. Not sex, or anything else, he simply just found new things to fill the void and help him ignore the pain he was so evidently feeling.

It’s currently February 1. The day he was dreading, his now second birthday without you next to him. Harry decided to spend today at Sarutahiko Coffee, a cozy cafe just a few blocks down from where he was staying. Partying and going out to karaoke with his friends was fun, hell, sometimes he thought about dropping everything and moving here just to be able to live this lifestyle, but it did get tiring at some points, and there is nothing else he’d rather be doing than perching up against a corner in the shop and reading his book right now.

The work of choice held tightly in his grip is The People Look Like Flowers at Last by Charles Bukowski, reading the poems flowing from the creme-colored pages and writing thoughts in a journal kept close to him about things that stood out the most.

“A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.”

What a load of donkey shit, Harry thought to himself. Love was nothing but heavy unfair baggage to him now, and he no longer believed in it. Not if he didn’t get to have you.

He chuckles to himself softly at the notion, jotting it down onto the paper and crossing it out immediately after.

It’s pathetic to Harry. How he was acting this way towards your relationship with him, how looked at the situation so negatively and sourly. He loved you so much that everytime he saw you, his breath hitched and he felt as if his heart would pump out of his chest. That every step you took closer to him, it would land him closer to a casket or his deathbed.

The bell tolls and he doesn’t bother tilting his head to see if it’s a customer coming in or leaving, as it’s been occurring all day and he just doesn’t pay mind to the action anymore. He continues to let his eyes touch every word on the page but abruptly stops when he recognizes a tone of voice.

“Hi, how are you?”

It’s not her. Can’t be. Wouldn’t be. She’s not even in Tokyo.

Nonetheless, he looks up in the most subtle form of curiosity beaming from his aura.

There you were. Your head cocking to the side, smiling at the cashier taking your order as you speak broken Japanese in an hasty endeavor to communicate with them. You’re dressed in a flowy white dress covered in tiny pink flowers attached to green leaves, hugging your waist in all the right places and a nude bag clutched around your shoulder. Around your back and arms is the baby pink cardigan Harry gave to you for your twenty-first birthday, the one he was so strangely excited to give to you because secretly, he knew he would be able to take the material off of you once the party was over and everyone had gone home.

He’s stunned and stopped in place now, his eyes wide open as he had no clue what to do at this point.

As if the stars had aligned in place at the perfect time, you’re standing in front of him and it feels like he can’t move.

He had only ever spoken to you through calls, not getting the chance to Facetime because he never had the time to while he was away, and you look different. A good different. Your hair is a little longer than he last saw you and tinted lighter, and it’s apparent that your skin is glowing now. Not a pregnancy glow, he hopes.

He snaps out of his trance as you grab your latte off of the counter, turning to find a seat around the cafe and freezing as you both make eye contact. Your heart stops at the sight of him. Him. The person you missed so goddamn dearly and the person you’ve been yearning for since the day you broke up. The person who’s kissed you when you were nervous, who held you when you were scared. The person you’re still in love with to this day, no matter the lengthy amount of time you’ve spent apart.

A few seconds pass and you start to make your way to the area he’s sitting alone at. You’re praying in this time that he isn’t here with someone else, but in return, he smiles at you. The kind of smile you love, when his dimple pops out and his pearly brights show through. He’s the sun.

“Harry,” you breathe softly, lips curling into a grin. The sound of his name erupting from your mouth makes your lungs skip a beat as you haven’t said it at all in what? A year now?

“Y/N,” he says in return.

“Mind if I sit?”

He purses his lips and hastily moves all of his belongings over, making space for your arrival.

“Be my guest.”

Your perfume dials into his brain as you sit and he smiles at the easily recognized scent. The silence between the two of you now is deafening and to be frank, annoying. You wish you could hold him in your arms again and tell him you missed him and you love him and that this whole time, all you’ve ever wanted to do was call him and find your way back to him, but you don’t. You can’t. Not here, at least.

“So-”

“You-” You both start speaking at once.

“Whoops, my bad. You go first,” you say softly, pressing your lips into a line which makes him laugh gently.

“I was going to say, y’ look good, Y/N.”

Your heart stops once more and everything comes rushing back to you.

The first time he kissed you, the first time he held your hand, the first time you made love, the first time you fucked, the last time you kissed, the last time he held your hand, the last time you made love, the last time you fucked.

“Thank you,” you look down out of pure nervousness as you don’t want to mess it up. “You do too, I’ve missed you.”

A moment of stillness is shared between you two and you instantly regret saying it, God knows if he feels the same way and if he could be missing someone else who isn’t you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, forget I said that, please.”

“No, s’ all good, was just registering into my brain that you actually said that,” he pauses, running his hands through the chestnut locks held atop his head. You never noticed but his hair has grown a large amount, almost touching his neck now. He’s wearing a light brown cardigan around a white tee shirt, sunglasses hanging off of the edge of the material. His eyes are duller and he looks more tired, worrying you, but you don’t want to fuss just yet about why that is.

“I missed you too.”

You both smile and nod together, almost as if in sync and you observe that although it’s awkward now, it’s a comforting kind of awkward and you know that he’s finally here in front of you, with a blatantly inviting heart and the softest smile to grant you access to it.

“So what are you doing in Tokyo?” he asks, taking a sip from the mug filling to the brim with black coffee that seems like he didn’t bother touching since the moment he arrived.

“I could ask you the same thing. But I’m here just to visit, work’s been on my ass and I just needed a way to escape. I worked my ass off everyday since my first day on the job and I never slacked. Not once. But it gets tiring, y’ know, so I was like, Japan seems like a cool option. So I used up my savings and booked a flight. Been here for a few days. Weird that we ended up at the same time, though, I guess,” you giggle delicately and it sounds like music to Harry’s ears, a melody he hasn’t heard in what feels like forever. He stays silent in response as he puzzles together in his mind how this could have happened. How you managed to come to the same cafe as him, at the same time, in the same city. Right place, right time, he suggests to himself.

“And you?”

You like that about Harry. You like that you’re able to spill your heart out to him and he would accept all of it with open arms, listening as closely as he possibly can and registering every spoken word into his brain.

“After tour ended, I was weighing all the possible options on where I could spend the time writing the next record and getting my mind off of some other shit, an’ I guess we had the same idea of randomly choosing Japan.”

“Yeah? Where are you staying?” you ask quietly, tiny hands curling around the cup of your liquid of choice. You realize that maybe it was a bit of a reach to ask, but you’re curious and you’re almost positive he’s the same.

“I can show you if y’ want,” Harry taps his fingers against the wooden table dividing the two of you and you nod in response, and him mentally breathing out in relief that it didn’t backfire onto him. You had no plans for the rest of today, anyways, other than exploring the city a bit more, and it wouldn’t hurt to check the place out for a few minutes or so. You both grab your belongings, heading towards the exit and smiling at the workers who do the same in return.

You walk a mere five minutes in silence before arriving at a tall brick-built building. You assume it’s an apartment complex and he unlocks the main entrance, heading towards a set of doors that end up being an elevator. You both pile into the lifting device and he clicks the number 10.

“S’ nice,” you say softly, tugging at the hem of your dress-skirt. He nods in response and folds his arms together.

Harry’s heart is racing faster than he can think and it feels like time is going slower than usual. It’s never normal for him to be anxious or nervous like this around you, you’re his sense of calmness and the only person he feels like he can totally know himself with.

But he can’t wait any longer. He doesn’t want to lose you again, not like this.

Harry steps in front of you, eyes peering down and his hands tuck around the back of your neck. Your hands absentmindedly wrap around his waist, and you know what’s going to happen next but honestly, you’re so grateful for it.

“If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it?”

He smiles at you once more before cocking his head to the side and stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“You’ll have to see for yourself.” You don’t let another moment pass before eagerly smashing your lips against his, him pressing you up against the elevator wall and wrapping your leg around his middle. He tastes like mint and forgotten love, the sweet tang of the person you’ve missed so fucking much. You can feel him hardening against your center as your lips move together in sync, releasing from each other’s embrace as Harry moves down to your neck and leaves soft pecks around the area. He moves up to the spot right behind your ear that he knows makes you go crazy, which makes your cunt ache for him and only him.

The elevator dings above your frames and he pulls off of you immediately, the both of you moving to the side of one another as an elderly lady enters. You look up to see Harry smirking to himself with his lips pressed into a line and you nudge his side while rolling your eyes, him chuckling in return.

It doesn’t take long before you arrive at his floor, his fingers intertwining with yours as he leads you to the exit and towards his door. He fumbles with his keys for a moment as you lean up to suck the nape of his neck fervidly, leaving marks as you go and him groaning tacitly.

“And don’t think I forgot that it’s your birthday,” you whisper against his ear, giggling and kissing against it as he’s finally able to get it unlocked. He pushes the door open to reveal a large penthouse that you don’t get a second to look around before you’ve dropped down to your knees, trembling as you unbuckle the belt around his waist. You don’t want to admit it but this is the first time you’ve both ever gotten laid since you ended things and you never would have guessed that this would’ve been with each other. Harry throws the stack of books previously held in his clutch onto the couch nearby and helps you tug down his jeans, his black briefs now in vision and erection planted directly in front of you. You stroke him through the material and leave kisses across it, making your way to the tip of it and pulling the briefs down with your teeth. He hisses at the teasing action with glistening eyes and you can’t help but smirk to yourself at the sight of it, grabbing him between your fingers and using them to move down his shaft. You’re looking up at him now and his head is thrown back, moaning at the feeling of pent-up deprivation finally being taken care of.

You use your tongue to swirl around the tip, catching any of the precum dribbling from his cock in the swells of your mouth and he grabs a handful of your hair to guide you through it.

“Fuck, jus’ like that,” he pauses, using his strength to bob your head up and down but making sure it’s only the amount of him you’re able to take. “I’ve missed you, baby,”

Tears begin to gather at the crease of your eyelids before he releases his grip each time, and it doesn’t take long before he’s picking you up and carrying you to his bedroom. You whine in irritation and make rebuttals for him to put you down and he pats your ass, placing you down softly onto the mattress and continuing to work his way around your heart-shaped lips. He pulls up the material around your body and throws it to the other side of the room to reveal that surprisingly, you aren’t wearing any bra or panties, and his breath hitches before taking a moment to himself and placing his hands onto you once more. It’s obvious that he’s trying to be as delicate as he possibly can with you but to be honest, that is the last thing you want right now.

“Harry,” you breathe out, cursing to yourself as he kisses tenderly down your torso. He tilts his head in reaction; you’ve always been very vocal with each other about affection and sex and how you wanna go about it so it wouldn’t hurt to be that way now too.

“Please,” you breathe out. “Be rough with me, I need you so much,” you beg, him humming as a silent notion of ‘are you sure?’ and you nod in return. Harry’s finger dips through your soaked folds, digit swirling over your sensitive nub and using his other hand to hold your hips down as they buck up against him. Propping yourself up onto your elbows to watch him work, you whine his name over and over as his mouth is now attached to your heat, him moaning from enjoyment in response as well. He pulls away and you can’t help but want to scream at him for it, eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. As much as he wants you, he wants to know that you’re just as needy and eager for his entrance.

“What do y’ want, princess? Hm?” He taunts, pushing his thumb against your clit harder.

“I want-” He presses harder, which makes you cry out louder.

“I want you to fuck me, Harry,” you mumble quietly and he halts his movements completely, making you squirm and wrap your fingers around his arm in a poor attempt to reattach his touch back to you.

“What was that?” You know he heard you the first time but needs to hear you beg for him once more.

“I want you to fuck me Harry, make me c-cum, please,” you tremble and it doesn’t take another second for him to pull his weight up before wrapping his hand around his cock firmly and hooking his other onto your thigh. He doesn’t give you time to re-adjust before sinking himself into you and letting out a groan, the moan coming from your lips sounding like a symphony to his perception.

“Shit, you’re so wet, all f’ me,” he wants to let you adapt to his length again but instead, decides to start moving himself in and out of you hastily, head dropping to your neck and you use his nape to leave your traces up against. He never expected to end up here, fucking you like this in his bedroom, but that was the last thing on his mind, the first being to make you cum.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Harry,” you plea. “You feel so fucking good,” you cry out for him, sobs being jagged and covered with lust as you move your fingers into his sweat-immersed hair. His face is tinted a bright shade of pink and moisture is leaking down the sides of his face.

“Harder, please, daddy,” the accentuating whines coming from your lips almost mask the nickname you’ve bestowed upon him for the first time since you last made love, but it makes his stomach riddle with butterflies and he follows your request. Harry pushes himself into you harder each time, his fingers trailing down to your center and pinching the skin surrounding your nub. The only noises throughout his whole apartment now is a combination of your moans and the bed softly creaking against the hardwood floor. He knows that you’re close and he is as well, but he wants to make it last longer for your first time together again.

“Y/N,” he groans out, brown curls falling in front of his face. “‘m not going to last long, baby, gonna cum for me? Gonna let me fill you up like the dirty slut you are? Is that what you want?”

You can only nod in response due to the dryness in your throat from crying out seemingly louder than you ever have and you feel yourself release and clench onto his dick, pinching your eyes shut and seeing fireworks glow against them. A moment passes and Harry loosens the grip from your thigh, stuttering and becoming more sloppy with his thrusts, but soon emptying himself into you and pounding into you one last time, sending chills throughout both of your bodies.

He waits for a while in order to recollect himself and give you a chance to as well, collapsing at your side as you feel his contents spill out of you. You know he’s about to grab something to clean you up with when he begins to move to the edge of the bed but you tug him back, nodding and pouting.

“Don’t leave, not yet,” you say, still out of breath and Harry chuckles quietly before pulling himself back and wrapping his arms around your waist, pecking up against the sweet spot near your neck once more and letting out a sigh.

“I’m not leaving you ever again, not after what just happened.” You lean over and swat his arm, giggling and pressing your lips against his again. You’re both finally in the place that you’ve been dying to be in for the past year and you realize that maybe the time you spent apart was all worth it if it meant you got to be back here with him, in his arms, in his presence, in his bedroom, in Japan.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles #japan harry

406 notes · View notes

cacoetheswriting · 5 years ago

Text

unrequited love - spencer reid

Warnings: mild cursing, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of murder, usual criminal minds stuff tbh Word Count: 2.6k Requested By: anonymous : “can you write a spencer reid fic? something ansgsty maybe..”.

No one understands why you do certain things even when you know you're never going to get anything back. - Shahul Hussain

QUANTICO, VIRGINA

The smell of freshly brewed coffee was probably your favourite, especially at ungodly hours of the morning. Closing your eyes for a brief moment you could feel a sort of calm and warmth surround you. The aroma slowly awoke your senses. Your lips touched the brim of the white mug in your hand and you took a slow sip.

“Good morning Y/L/N.” Derek Morgan appeared beside you. You looked up at him from your mug. “I brought you a coffee but I can see you couldn't wait.” He joked holding up a paper cup. “You know me Derek, I’ll take all the caffeine I can get.” You replied grabbing the cup from him. “Especially at four in the morning.” Derek smirked. “Yeah, they have to stop doing that to us.”

With two coffees in hand, you made your way to the conference room. The rest of the team was already there. You sat at your usual seat, placing the coffees on the table in front of you, and turned your attention to the screen.

“Morning my lovelies.” Penelope began. “I would say good but there is nothing good about it given the case we have been asked to wor-” “Garcia.” Hotch interrupted briefly encouraging her to get to the point. “Right. Yes. No time to waste.” Penelope cleared her throat and fixed her glasses.

“Last night, twenty-five year old Millie Moore didn't return home after her shift at a bar in Riverside, California. Her body was discovered this morning in a dumpster behind her workplace.”

“The killer wanted her to be found.” JJ stated. There was a brief pause before Penelope continued.

“The kidnapping and murder was linked to four other cases in the state of California spanning over the last month.” The images filled the screen causing you to clench your fists in disgust.

The small rather insignificant action was observed by the brunette man sitting across from you. Unnoticed by everyone else at the table, Spencer’s eyes focused on your hands before travelling up to your face. He examined the look spread across your features, trying to figure out what was on your mind.

“He definitely has a type.” Rossi noticed. “Any signs of sexual assault?” Derek questioned. “Yes, actually all of the victims displayed signs of uhm.” Garcia couldn’t bare to finish her sentence.

“Given the small cooling off period between each victim, we need to assume the unsub has his next target already picked out.” Hotch stated. “Garcia can finish briefing us on the plane. Wheels up in twenty.”

The group nodded at each other and all got up from their seats - all but you. For some reason you couldn't avert your eyes from the gruesome images that filled the screen.

“Y/N...” Spencer’s soft whisper brought you back to reality. He stood just a few steps away. You titled your head to look at him noticing a concerned look spread on his face. “They look like me Spence. The victims, they all look like me.”

Spencer cleared his throat. “Humans in fact, aren’t that genetically diverse. So eventually, the numbers would dictate that certain features resembling yours and another persons will randomly combine.” He paused.

“But that doesn’t mean they are an exact duplicate of you.” He smiled hoping you would smile back. “You’re right, sorry. It’s just a little weird.” “We’ve had weirder.” Spencer said as you got to your feet. The young doctor grabbed one of the coffees for you as you grabbed the other and followed you out to the pit.

“You know caffeine increases alertness by blocking a brain chemical called adenosine that makes you feel tired, while at the same time triggering the release of adrenalin that’s known to increase energy.” Spencer stated placing the coffee cup he was holding on your desk.

“If the amount of caffeine is high enough, these effects are stronger, resulting in caffeine-induced anxiety.” You finished the fact for him, slightly rolling your eyes. “Yes Spence, I know. You tell me this every time I have more than one mug in the morning.” The smart doctor shrugged smiling at you. He grabbed his go-bag from underneath his desk and waited for you.

The friendship you shared with Spencer was an odd one. The two of you were quite close when you were still at the academy. He helped you study for all your tests and was always one to share tips on how to complete certain tasks.

A couple of years go by without contact. At that point you were a field agent in New York, which is where you reconnected on a case. The spark was instant although neither of you wanted to admit it. This time Spencer stayed in touch. It was clear then that whatever undiscovered feelings he had for you back when you first met resurfaced - but you weren’t ready to explore whether you felt the same.

Next thing you know you were getting a call from Aaron Hotchner with an offer to join the BAU. Something, you later found out, Spencer had fought to get organised.

It felt like you played with his heart. To an outsider it probably even looked like that - he fell in love with a girl and landed her a dream job in hopes that she would love him back.

RIVERSIDE, CALIFORNIA

“What if we’re dealing with a disgruntled boyfriend or husband?” JJ posed the question. “He lost someone in his life that resembled the victims.” “Then why kill them?” Derek questioned.

The team was gathered around a conference table brainstorming. Spencer was the only one not sitting down, not unusual for Dr. Reid. He was pacing around the bullpen talking on the phone, probably with Penelope.

Your eyes lingered on the back of his head for a moment through the glass window. Something Derek noticed immediately. “Where’s your head at Y/L/N?” You turned your attention to the rest of the team. “What if JJ is right in a way? But rather than a significant other, what if the unsub was rejected by these women or someone who looks like them?”

Derek nodded his head in understanding. Your eyes scanned the team waiting for anyone sitting at the table to suggest something else. It was Rossi who opened his mouth next however whatever was on his mind was interrupted by Spencer storming into the room.

“Where’s your mind at pretty boy?” Derek questioned leaning back in his chair. “I spoke with Garcia. All of the victims had social media accounts and tagged-” He approached the map pinned to one of the boards. “- three different spots in this location before they were murdered.” With a red pen, Spencer circled one area on the map.

“The hunting ground.” Rossi stated and everyone else nodded.

“Let’s split up.” Hotch began. “Reid, go with Y/L/N. Derek and Rossi, and JJ you’re with me. I’ll get Garcia to send us the exact addresses, hopefully one of these places will bring us a step closer to catching the unsub.”

The team got to their feet and one by one left the conference room, leaving you alone with Spencer. “Ready partner?” He asked smiling at you. “Always.”

It didn't take long to get there, traffic was unusually quiet for California. Plus whenever you’re with Spencer the conversation flow makes the moments pass by quickly - you never run out of things to talk about.

“Looks closed.” You said getting out of the car, shutting the door behind you. “Strange, it’s the middle of the day.” Spencer noted as he walked around the hood. The two of you glanced at each other before moving forward towards the entrance of the coffee shop.

The door wasn't locked so you made your way inside. A small ‘ding’ from the bell above your heads signalised you have entered the premises. An eerie feeling came over you.

The lights were switched off. The chairs were placed neatly on the tables. Menus were carefully stacked beside the register, sugar bowls placed in a row along the countertop. A wet floor sign was placed in the middle of the room. You walked around it carefully, that’s when you noticed the strong smell.

“Is that?” You asked looking at Spencer. “It smells like bleach.” The young doctor stated back, his hand travelled to his gun. Slowly, with one hand on your weapon holster, you made your way around the countertop. That’s when you felt someone grab you from behind. A shriek escaped your mouth getting Spencer’s attention.

The unknown male held your arms behind your back as he led you back towards the middle of the coffee shop - using you as a human shield. He kicked over the yellow sign and stopped. You could feel his hot breath against your skin, it made you sick. “Let her go.” Spencer stated sternly, pointing his gun.

“I’m going to walk out of here.” The male said. “And you’re going to let me.” You watched Spencer shake his head. “I can’t let you do that.” His response wasn't what the man wanted to hear. Frustrated, he drew your weapon from the holster and placed it to your temple causing the air to catch in your throat.

“How about now?” The man sounded angrier. He could sense your fear, just like you could sense Spencer’s. The young doctor met your gaze briefly before looking back at the man holding you.

“What’s your name?” Spencer asked. The man scoffed. “I’m not telling you shit!” “Tell me your name and maybe we can sort something out.” Spencer said calmly, his gun still pointing in your direction.

There was a brief moment of heavy silence before the man snarled: “You first.”

“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid and the woman you are now holding at gunpoint, that’s Agent Y/N Y/L/N.” You could feel the man shift, as if he was trying to get a better look at you before he turned his attention to Spencer again. “Theo.” He said simply.

“Nice to meet you Theo. How old are you Theo?” “What’s that got to do with anything?!”

Your whole body was shaking at this point.

“O-okay Theo. Tell me this instead, why did you kill all of those women?” “I didn’t hurt anyone!” Theo snapped. “Only a guilty man would hold a federal agent at gunpoint.” Spencer pointed out. “Shut up!” Theo lowered the gun from your temple and pointed it at Spencer. A lone tear escaped the corner of your eye.

“Why did you kill them Theo?” Spencer asked again.

“They deserved it.” Theo answered after a brief moment of silence. “They hurt me!” “How did they hurt you Theo?” The man’s grip around you tightened. “They just hurt me!” He screamed. “Now let me go or I swear, she’s next!” The gun was back at your temple.

Spencer met your scared gaze. The look in his eye was almost as if to say everything was going to be okay, that he was going to get you out of this. You tried to smile. You even mouthed “It’s okay.” at which Spencer’s jaw locked - he wasn’t going to lose you, not like this.

“Those women hurt you Theo? I know exactly what that feels like.” Spencer said calmly. “Being hurt by someone you love.” You could feel Theo nod against your head. His grip loosened slightly.

“Do you know what unrequited love is Theo?” Spencer asked and without waiting for a response continued. “It’s love not reciprocated or returned. It’s when you love someone and they don't love you back, they don't acknowledge your love.” Spencer stated. At this point you were crying. Lone droplets escaped your eyes and traced down your cheeks.

“That’s how those women made you feel, right? As if you weren’t worthy to love them.” Spencer said. You could feel the hurt in his voice.

“They didn't see me.” Theo said, his voice shaky. “They didn't care!” He exclaimed taking a step forward. In doing so, his grip around you loosened completely and you were able to turn around while grabbing his arm that was holding the gun.

Theo kneed you in the stomach causing you to fall back a little. When you looked up he had the gun pointed at you.

“If you shoot her, I shoot you.” Spencer said sternly, his weapon once again drawn and pointed at the unsub. Theo scoffed. “She's the one that hurt you, isn't she?” Spencer didn't respond. “I figure I’d be doing you a favour then.”

The sound of the gun being cocked caused your heart to stop. Yet Spencer was quicker. He fired one shot, hitting Theo in the shoulder. This enabled you to overpower the unsub and disarm him.

“Call for backup.” The young doctor said kneeling down beside you. “Spence-” “Call for backup.” He repeated without looking at you. Without saying another word, that’s exactly what you did.

BAU Jet

The sound of silence filled the plane. Everyone was exhausted to say the least, and catching up on necessary sleep. Yet every time you closed your eyes you felt uncomfortable. Spencer’s words from the coffeeshop kept ringing in your ears, the broken look on his face overwhelmed your brain.

Slowly, you got to your feet and walked down the jet. The young doctor was sitting alone at the back of the aircraft, head buried in a book.

“Hey.” You whispered loud enough to get his attention. His head popped up, his eyes met yours. “Hi.”

“Mind if I sit down?” You asked politely pointing to the empty seat. “Not at all. Make yourself comfortable.” He placed the book down as you made yourself comfortable.

“Can’t sleep?” “I could ask you the same thing.” Spencer replied. “Well, having a gun pointed to your head isn’t exactly dreaming material.” You breathed with a soft smile. Spencer nodded his head.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“I wanted to thank you.” You said. “For saving my life.” “I was just doing my job.” Spencer replied. “Right.” You sighed and leaned your head back on the chair, breaking eye contact.

“Y/N-” “I’m sorry Spencer.” You interrupted. Confused, the young doctor asked: “Why are you apologising?” “For hurting you.” Slowly, you tilted your head to once again look at the brown haired man. His head was down, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

“I’m sorry for making you feel as if you weren't worthy.” “I just said that to get the unsub’s attention. I said that so he would let you go.” “We both know that's not true Spencer.”

The young doctor sighed. “I don't know what you want me to say Y/N.” He whispered while turning his head in your direction. “You don't need to say anything.”

Spencer lifted his hand and slowly using one finger placed a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he did. A shiver ran down your spine at the touch.

“I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.” Spencer said, his hand now holding your face. “However, you made it obvious you don’t feel that way about me so I’ve done my best to just be your friend.” He sighed. “Y/N it’s getting really hard to just be your friend.”

He let his hand fall before shifting his body weight away from you. He leaned his head against the aircraft and looked out the window.

Tears formed in your eyes. “Spence.” You whispered but he didn't respond. Instead, the young doctor closed his eyes.

You knew better than to keep pushing. With your fingers, you wiped the tears from your face and made yourself comfortable before also closing your eyes.

Hoping you’d drift asleep quickly your mind wondered. Tomorrow, you would talk to him again tomorrow and everything would be just fine. Right?

Never pretend to a love which you do not actually feel, for love is not ours to command. - Alan Watts

masterlist

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst

623 notes · View notes

joonsrack · 5 years ago

Text

+Pairing: Namjoon x fem!reader, Taehyung x fem!reader (one-sided),

+Genre: Angst, humor, fluff, two-shots, sfw

+Word count: ~8.5k

+Warning: Mention of past recreational drug use (weed), blood mention (nosebleed), lot of pinning

+Rating: Pg13

+Summary:

Your roommate and long-time one-sided crush disappears one morning, leaving behind only a post-it note stating two things:

1. He’s off to finally meet the love of his life whom he met on the internet, might take the whole summer;

2. He’s sub-renting his room while he’s gone, don’t worry it’s all taken care of;

+A/N: Just six days late, nothing too major. This is the first part of a two-shot I’m writing for the bangtanscenery collab: April Shower & May Flower. This didn’t turn out as expected, but it is what it is lmao. Thank you to @gguksgalaxy for helping me brainstorm, and @spicykoreantatertots and @starlightseoks for reading over my stuff, fixing my mistakes and giving me the validation I needed to carry on 💖

The first day of summer vacation is supposed to be a good day, a great day even. No more finals, no more studying; just warm weather, lazing around, and maybe picking up some shifts at the grocery store.

Today is all of that, but it’s also the worst day of your life.

It had started as it was supposed to; no alarm clock, just your body waking up by itself. You had messed around on your phone for a while, not caring about the time you were wasting. After the last three weeks of nerve-wracking deadlines and exams, you had deserved a break. The next thing on your schedule was work on Thursday, meaning you had two days completely to yourself. You had big plans for these two days; doing absolutely nothing.

But then, as the day was slowly shifting from morning into noon, the stillness of the house cued you that something was… not right.

As you have come to learn, your roommate, Taehyung, is not one to go about his summer day without his 20 minutes of morning stretching on zen nature sounds. Sometimes you join him, sometimes you don’t. He has a morning routine that he sticks to a T, and in a way, you find the sound of him doing his routine comforting.

Two years you’ve been living together now; or well, almost two years.

You had met in your first semester of freshman year, both residing in the same co-ed dorm. The horror of shared bathroom, kitchen, and living areas had prompted you two to throw caution to the wind and start living together, even if you were both still technically strangers. Two years later, the concept of being a stranger with Taehyung is so far fetched, it’s like you’ve never not known each other.

Which is why this comes as a slap to your face.

After finally making it out of your room and to the kitchen, you find in lieux of your roommate, a single post-it note, stuck to his old fashioned shelf stereo.

There are barely fifteen words on it, but that’s enough to destroy your post-final, beginning of summer haze:

Going back to Korea for the summer, I’m finally going to meet Busan_baby!

I sub-rented my room, he should get here soon :) xx

Objectively, Taehyung doing spontaneous things is not out of character. But this… Leaving for a whole summer, without even hinting at it...

You had plans for this summer. Plans that consisted of spending quality time with him, and maybe, possibly, finally confessing to him. Him leaving kind of put a wrench into that.

Plus.

Busan_baby…

The mysterious internet friend that’s been plaguing Taehyung’s mind since they met during an Overwatch raid, whatever that means.

Your two-year crush had only evolved in the time you were living together, and a part of you had become possessive overtime. So these days, only the mention of Tae’s friend’s username was enough to put you in the worst of moods. And now you’re going to lose your summer with your roommate to her? To a perfect stranger living on the other side of the planet?

And the whole sub-renting situation...you’re boiling. He just... rented his room. To someone you might not know, with whom you’ll be stuck all summer.

The first day of summer vacation is supposed to be a good day. This, this is not a good day.

Your first reaction is to, well, do nothing. You feel tears of frustration welling up in your eyes, and you recognize the burning sensation in your chest as anger. You feel a little ridiculous; you’re always factoring Taehyung into your plans, always have, but clearly he isn’t giving you the same kind of courtesy. You grab your phone, knowing he hasn’t sent you any text, but checking anyways. You have no idea what time he left, he could already be in the plane for all you know, but you send him a message anyways.

Me 1:27pm: Is this a joke?

You wipe a tear away, trying to breathe through the negativity. He must have had his reason, he does have his whole family in Korea, maybe they’re the real reason he left and he’s just joking with you.

Just as the thought is starting to make sense, you hear the key in the lock, and your heart starts beating double time.

It was all the prank, he’s not leaving for real, it’s him coming back to surprise you. See? You had nothing to worry about. The smile grows on your face, and you quickly dry the tears track on your face, not wanting Taehyung to tease you about them.

But doubt quickly sets in your mind when it’s clearly taking too long for whoever on the other side to open the door. The bolt is old, and it had taken you and Taehyung weeks before you had been able to know the right way to unlock it without struggling.

You can hear them struggling with the key, rattling the doorknob, until finally the bolt clicks into place and the door swiftly swings open. Obviously, whoever is on the other side wasn’t expecting it to give, and they stumble past the doorsill, barely missing the floor by a few centimeters.

You’re shocked into stillness, watching the catastrophe unveil.

Mystery man then trips on the entry mats, throwing him forward once again until his head gets dangerously close to the kitchen table; but like a seasoned tripper, he flips his body mid-plunge, landing hard but cushioned by the shag carpet of the living room.

He groans, rolling on his side holding his head in between his hands, and you’re too shocked to do anything but stare in both horror and wonder.

The living trainwreck on the floor doesn’t seem to have noticed your presence yet, and you’re inclined to just lay low and wait until you can observe more accidental gymnastics, but you realize that would be weird. Would it be weirder than everything you’ve just witnessed though?

You clear your throat to announce your presence, and he freezes, opens one eye, spots you, closes it again, and groans even louder.

“Is there any chance you just materialized now and missed all of that.”

You shrug emphatically.

“I can lie if that makes you feel better.”

He sits up, smiling grimly and resigned, like this is not the first time this has happened.

You would go offer him a hand but you also have no idea who this man is, what he’s doing in your apartment, with a key, and seemingly enough bad luck to bring this whole building down by himself.

“So… Who might you be?”

He looks up to you in confusion, and for a second you think you also see hurt flicker across his eyes, but it disappears as fast as it appeared.

“Taehyung… didn’t tell you?”

Right, sub-renting.

You grab the post-it off the stereo and wave it in his direction, letting him connect the dots.

“He just did.” You say, voice dripping with sarcasm, and he winces, noticing how you’re clearly unhappy with the whole ordeal.

“I thought you knew...I... fuck. I can leave if you want? You don’t look like you agreed to this.”

You sigh, feeling bad that you made him feel bad. It’s not his fault after all. Plus, him sub-renting means he most probably doesn’t have a place to stay right now.

“No, no. Of course not. It’s not your fault, I’m just… he didn’t even tell me he was leaving. It’s a lot.”

Silence fills the room, and he smiles awkwardly at you before dusting himself off. You take the opportunity to finally properly look at him.

He looks vaguely familiar now, with his tall body, long limbs and soft brown hair. He’s wearing grandfather clothes, but it’s strangely fitting with his energy. The glasses perched on his nose are slightly crooked, but it doesn’t like it’s from the fall. It looks permanent.

If he’s Taehyung’s friend, you probably saw him around Uni or something.

“So, I still don’t know your name?” You finally break the silence, and he looks startled by the question, pushing the glasses up his nose.

“Kim Namjoon. Well, Namjoon Kim here.” He finishes with a faint blush on his cheeks, and you nod, well aware of the whole last name difference. You’ve been living with Taehyung for two years after all.

“I’m going to try calling him, you can...get your luggage in I guess.”

“His plane was leaving 3 hours ago, I doubt you’ll be able to reach him.” He says sheepishly, as if that was his fault.

You pinch your lips in anger containment, not needing Namjoon to watch you slowly lose your sanity. You feel a surge of dark emotions invading your chest, so you have to make your escape swift.

“Cool, nice. Ok. Well, I need to... be in my room. If you have any questions just knock on my door. Or call my name.”

You’re already off into angst world, making your way to your room, so you miss Namjoon’s parting words;

“But... you haven’t told me your name, y/n.”

You feel the need to grieve the summer that could have been, so you do.

The first stage is denial.

It’s a little hard to deny though, with Taehyung gone and Namjoon currently moving into his room, so you jump straight to anger.

You would feel bad for Namjoon, you didn’t even show him to Taehyung’s room, and your welcome was pretty cold. But you can’t be blamed, this was sprung on you. You were blindsided; betrayed; fooled.

You try to remember your chats with Taehyung in the last few days, but everything is covered by a mist of confusion. The last few weeks are blurred and blended together, a mess of studying, late nights, nervous breakdowns; so you and Taehyung were not exactly talking. You were more...existing in the same space. Or crying in the same space, really.

But still, you know that if Taehyung had mentioned his plans to disappear for the summer you would have surely remembered.

You write an angry text a hundred words long, fueled by the horrible feeling of having been wronged and a need for vindication.

You don’t send the text because you know at the bottom of your heart you’re being overly dramatic, but it’s still therapeutic to act like you’re going to send it to him.

Then comes bargaining.

You write another text, this one more conciliating. You promise to be a better roommate, to stop bunching up your socks and leaving them in the cracks of the couch (although he does that too, the hypocrite), to stop stealing the Korean snacks his mom sends send him once a month (which is a big commitment; they’re just so good, you can’t find this quality in your uni town), and to stop using up all the hot water in the morning.

You also do not send this text. There’s a little too many promises in it you just know you won’t be able to hold.

You’re transitioning into the depressive stage when you hear a crash coming from the living room, followed by a few curses.

With the whole thing you witnessed earlier, you’re surprised that nothing fell victim to Namjoon’s long limbs sooner. He clearly has coordination issues; you would be worried, except pretty much everything decorating the apartment belongs to Taehyung.

Everything except…

There’s a bad feeling creeping up in your stomach. You don’t have the worst luck in life, but you also don’t have the best. And bad things usually happen in a group of three.

Taehyung ditching you for the summer, Taehyung clearly being fooled by some internet catfisher, and….

You jump to your feet, following the sound to the living room. There, your new roommate is kneeling on the floor, gathering the pieces of dried macaroni scattered around him. You can see the picture frame on the floor, the glass cracked in the middle.

The first day you had moved in together, Taehyung and you had taken a picture together with a single-use camera. You were both exhausted from the move, boxes laying all around, but beaming with satisfaction.

You had gotten a frame for it but Taehyung thought it was too bare, so one time, completely high as a kite, he’d decorated it with macaroni and hot glue.

You hold it very dear, and it has a central place in the living room. Or well, it did.

The macaroni remains on the floor is probably the saddest thing you’ve ever seen, and you can’t bear the sight of them, so you give a parting blank look to Namjoon, who’s looking up at you pale as a ghost, and you walk back to your room.

Alright, so stage one of grief; denial.

Belting your heart out to Italian music is usually your way of dealing with sorrow, but with a new and strange presence in your home, it probably won’t be happening for a while, so you settle for laying in your bed, with your curtain pulled closed and some Andrea Bocelli blasting from your earphone. It works for a while, until your stomach reminds you that you haven’t eaten all day.

You sigh, bracing yourself for yet another reminder that you’ve been basically abandoned by the possible love of your life. You come out of your room dragging your feet, only to be basically assailed but the unmistakable smell of frying garlic. You’re both disgusted and intrigued, so you pick up your pace to the kitchen, finding Namjoon there, sweat on his forehead, with a concentrated look on his face. His glasses are hanging at the tip of his nose, probably having slipped there from the sweat, and you find yourself endeared by the sight. Only for a quick second though.

“Are you sure it’s safe for you to be left alone in the kitchen?” You ask, and he whips his head towards you, clearly startled by your presence.

“Well…” He says, followed by a deprecating laugh, and you kind of feel like an asshole. He probably broke the frame by accident, and it’s not like it’s his fault that Taehyung bailed on your summer plans to go run off to who knows who the fuck busan_baby really is.

“What are you cooking?” You ask, trying to change the subject, and he looks grateful but also very nervous.

“Hm, well Taehyung told me once garlic pasta was your favorite, and since I was trying to apologize for, well the frame but also just being sprung onto you so suddenly, I figured I could cook your favorite dish...”

You nod, but you can’t contain a snort, and Namjoon’s expression becomes worried.

“Taehyung thinks that because that’s the only thing he can successfully cook, and the first time he did I didn’t have the heart to tell him I can’t stand garlic.”

Namjoon looks at the dish, then back at you, then back at the dish. You see all the energy drain from his body, face falling as he groans in frustration.

“It’s fine you didn’t know.” You try to sound as apologetic as you can, but it doesn’t seem to be helping, and he moves the pan from the burner, closing the heat, plastering a hand on his face.

“This is going all wrong. This day is just mess after mess. I’m so sorry I’m usually much better at human interaction, I’m just very nervous right now, I guess.”

You want to ask what he’s so nervous about, but you feel like it might not help his distraught state. “Ok so, clearly this was doomed from the start.” You say, and his face falls even more, so you hurry to finish your thought before he can jump to conclusions.

“You showed up while I was having a horrible day; I had no idea you were coming; you...tripped and fell in front of me, probably making you feel embarrassed, then all this nervous energy lead to you having another clumsy accident, and I probably didn’t help with my overall coldness… and now, this, which again, is totally not your fault…” You let the silence hang for a little longer before you finish your thought. “ I think we should start over.”

“...What?”

“Yeah, I think we should start over. Like, come here.” You wave your hand in a motion for him to follow after you, and he does, albeit definitely looking reluctant.

You lead him to the front door, opening it, waiting for him to get the cue. He stands there, looking a little dumbfounded, glimpsing down at his slipper clad feet.

“Come on, only for a second.”

He finally follows your directions, stepping outside in the hallway, and you close the door behind him. After a good 30 second of silence, you realize he might be dumber than he looks.

“You’re supposed to knock.” You say just loud enough for him to hear on the other side, and there’s a split second before he finally does.

You throw the door open with the biggest smile you can muster, and he stares at you in actual worry.

“Hello Namjoon Kim, nice to meet you! Taehyung totally told me you were coming! Come on in!”

Namjoon finally catches up, pinching his lips to stop himself from smiling.

“Nice to meet you,-” He greets back, taking a step into the apartment, but the sole of his slipper gets caught on the doorsill, ripping it off.

He stares down at his slippers in betrayal, and you have to bite the inside of your cheeks to hold back a cackle.

“At this point, I don’t know how to convince you I’m not like this 24/7.” He says, and he looks a little bit more relaxed than before, which is good.

“I’m sorry to say that ship has sailed.”

Going to sleep at five in the morning is never the right decision, even when you have nothing planned, but the prospect of watching Hannah Brown finally eliminating Luke P off The Bachelorette is just too good, keeping you wide awake until you finally get the satisfaction of seeing the smug smile being wiped off his face. Taehyung was so looking forward to this, cursing out the man after every episode, and not having him by your side, yelling incoherently at your computer screen, definitely made you sad.

There's also the whole waiting-for-a-text-that-never-came thing.

You know his flight landed, you looked at the flight time between where you are and Incheon airport. The realization that you weren’t even worth an “I’ve just landed” text is enough to ruin you Luke P elimination afterglow, sending you straight to sleep.

So being rudely awoken at 9 a.m., eyes sore from the lack of sleep and maybe some possible tears of frustration, is not the best feeling.

At first you think you dreamed it, a loud crash from somewhere in the apartment, but then the groans of pain that follows are sounding pretty damn real.

You throw the comforter off, jumping out of bed in the same breath, trying to locate the source of the commotion but still woozy with sleep, and you find its origin in the bathroom;

Very naked, save for the shower curtain draped over the figure.

Namjoon squeals at the sight of you, making sure all the important bits are covered with the curtain that he probably dragged in his apparent fall, half of it still hanging off the pole.

Your sleep-deprived brain slowly catches up to the situation, and you slap both hands over your eyes, turning around with the intention to get out of dodge, only to walk straight into the door frame. The impact makes you lose your balance, the unforgiving tiles making contact with your ass at the speed of light. There’s a throbbing pain in your backside and there’s definitely something dripping from your nose. Another beautiful start to your summer vacation.

It’s your turn to groan, holding your head back to stop the blood from dripping all over your PJs. There’s wet fumbling in the general area of the shower, the sound of the water being cut off and then a moment later, a very naked man appears in your field of vision.

“Hum.” Is all you say, as he snatches his boxer brief from the counter, slipping them on in a flash. But you’ve seen. You’ve witnessed. You’re a changed person now.

“I forgot my towel.” He answers back, face so red it looks like it must hurt. There’s still shampoo suds in his wet hair, dripping down his forehead, neck, and shoulders, but he doesn’t seem to care as he grabs the toilet paper roll, offering it to you.

“Are you ok?” he asks with concern in his voice. He’s kneeling in front of you, skin glistening, and the sight he makes doesn’t help with your blood pressure. His handsomeness didn’t escape your notice, but this….this is a little overwhelming.

“I’ve known you for less than 24 hours and I’ve already seen your junk; I’m great.”

He looks a little thrown by what you’ve just said, but you can blame it on a concussion later, so you’re not too worried.

“Lean forward and breath through your mouth,” He says, choosing to ignore your comment. You follow his recommendation, pinching your nose.

“You seem familiar with nosebleeds.” You tease, knowing full well he’s clearly the clumsy type.

“I’ve had my share of encounters with flat surfaces.”

“So are you gonna tell me what possessed you to shower in the middle of the night?”

“Is 9 a.m. the middle of the night?” He asks, a grin playing at his lips.

“It sure is during summer vacation.”

Namjoon chooses to ignore your admission of being a living, breathing, couch potato.

“I wanted to go get a new pair of slippers, maybe a new frame as well. I obviously need to add a new shower curtain to the list.”

You look up at the way his tone goes slightly somber from irritation, and you’re having none of that; it’s 9 am, middle of the night, and all you want right now is everything to be happy and breezy.

“Do you mind if I tag along? I wanted to get a corkboard for all my pictures, so I won’t need a new frame actually. We could go get some middle of the night breakfast too.”

His eyes light up, a new energy filling the room.

“Of course! You can, totally.”

His metaphorical tail seems to be wagging, and you’re a little confused about the source of his sudden excitement, but he seems to be in a good mood so that’s the important part here.

“Alright then, I’ll let you finish your shower- oh my god, wait. Are you ok? I heard you fall; that did not sound like a painless descent.”

Namjoon winces, rubbing at the back of his head like he’s suddenly reminded of the pain.

“I’ll survive with only slight bruising, it’s all good.”

You nod, relieved he didn’t hurt himself seriously.

“Let’s get you some bubble wrap while we’re there.” You tease, and he rolls his eyes, probably having heard that one before.

There’s this moment of silence where neither of you are moving, and you’re wondering what he’s waiting for to go back in the shower.

“So...are you waiting to get another peek at my junk, or?” He teases.

You blush, staring at him dumbfounded. Your sleepy brain says yes, but your pride says no.

“Right, let me get out of here.”

You take your roll of toilet paper with you as you leave, pride almost intact.

Both of your loudly growling stomachs make the decision for the order of things, and your first stop is the cheap dinner a few streets down. The usual grumpy waiter that you’ve grown fond of is on shift, and his eyes zeroes straight on you two the second you step in.

His regular glare is already pretty intimidating, but the intensity of his stare is enough to make you want to take a menu and hide behind. Instead you walk with Namjoon to the table you usually sit at with Taehyung.

“Hey Joon.” Is the first thing Yoongi says, throwing the menu on the table with all the lack of grace in the world. Namjoon salutes him back with the ease of someone who’s used to being the target of Yoongi’s laser focus. You deduce they’re friends, by the way they seem to have a silent conversation with their eyes.

He switches his focus to you after a beat, and you gulp loudly, confused by the inquisition in his stare.

“Hi Y/N, where’s your tragic love story?”

Your jaw drops to the table, shocked by Yoongi’s blunt call out of your unrequited love for Taehyung. You two often come to eat here, but clearly you come too often if Yoongi figured you out so accurately.

“Jesus am I that obvious?” You mutter, picking up a menu to avoid looking at either man. You don’t need to see Namjoon's reaction when learning you’re crushing on your roommate who’s also one of his friends.

Yoongi snatches the menu out of your hands, having none of that.

“The usual I presume?” He asks snapingly, throwing one last unimpressed look at Namjoon before walking away.

Namjoon waits before he’s out of earshot to sigh. “Who pissed in his cereal this morning?” he scoffs, trying to lighten the mood, and you’re grateful for his attempt but you’re also feeling pretty shitty; why do your feelings for Taehyung seem so obvious to everyone but Taehyung himself?

“Well, I guess the elephant is out of the bag”, you say with fake enthusiasm. You want to be mad at Yoongi for his brusque ways, but Namjoon would probably have figured it out one way or another. This is kind of ripping the bandaid in a way.

There’s another beat of silence before Namjoon clears his throat, and you brace yourself for what he’s going to say, which is why what he asks comes as a surprise.

“Are you ok?”

His voice is empathic, genuine.

You look up to him, eyes a little glossy.

He’s got a kind face; a dimple here, soft corner smile there; eyes searching but not judging, the crooked glasses giving him a nerdy look. Yet, you’ve...seen. There’s nothing nerdy about the rest of him.

You smile sadly, biting your lips while looking back down at the table. You’ve known him for less than 24 hours and you already feel like Namjoon is the kind of person you can confide in, and before you know it, words are tumbling off your tongue.

“I guess… It just sucks that I was not even worth a ‘I’ve just landed text’. Or even better, him telling me in person that he was leaving for the summer, completely ruining all the plans we made together.” Namjoon nods along with your confession, and once you open your mouth, you just can’t shut it. “Like I’m always making sure he’s included in all of my planifications, and I always go beyond to do stuff that he likes… Like I’m sorry but I hated doing pottery, like, I suck at it. All I made always ended up having a vaguely phallic shape and I’m pretty sure the teacher was judging me, but I still put through three months of pottery class, which were very expensive by the way, because I knew Taehyung would love that. And the Pasta! I hate garlic, I can’t stand it, but I still told him it was my favorite since it’s the only thing he can cook!”

Namjoon clears his throat, looking around at the people starting to take notice of your meltdown. You were getting increasingly louder, you realize, so you sigh, letting the tension escape your body with a deep breath.

Yoongi stops by the table to drop two cups of coffee, raising an eyebrow at you, to which you answer with a glare of your own. He walks away with an evil glint in his eyes, and you already know what’s about to happen. You still risk a small sip of the steaming coffee, only to spit it back into the cup, face void of emotion.

Namjoon winces at you, offering you some napkins for the drops dripping down your chin.

“He put mustard in it, didn’t he?” He asks while you wipe your mouth, then taking your water to wash down the acre taste.

You nod slowly.

“He’s got a weird way to comfort his friends.”

You nod again, but grabbing his cup at the same time. “Do you mind?” You ask, and he agrees enthusiastically, only to frown when he sees what you do with it next.

You grab the table syrup, dripping some all over Namjoon’s coffee cup handle. You put it back on Namjoon’s side of the table, smiling warmly at him.

“Where were we?” You ask cheerfully.

“I think he might just ban me from the Dinner.” Namjoon says in a daze, looking back at where Yoongi is throwing daggers at the both of you from the window, wiping his sticky finger on his apron in vain; You know this stuff is impossible to get rid of.

You knew Yoongi would expect your handle to be sticky after the stunt he pulled, which is why you did it on Namjoon’s cup instead. You make sure to send Yoongi your most radiant smile as you walk away, waving. You should probably avoid the dinner for a few weeks.

But now, belly full of good food, mood lightened, you can go on your productive day of buying stuff. You take the bus to the closest Target, a comfortable chatter between the two of you, when something suddenly hits you between the bedroom aisle and the bathroom aisle.

“Now hold on a second; I just realized I never properly introduced myself. I mean obviously you already know my name, since Taehyung seems to have talked about me, and well, Yoongi used my name earlier too. But still... Wow, I’m so sorry I'm the worst new roommate ever.”

Namjoon shakes his head no, fiddling with the brand new slippers he picked up on the way.

“It’s...fine. Actually, well. I was hesitant to tell you since I don’t want you to feel bad about it but... we’ve already been introduced. Also we shared like, three classes so far. I’m minoring in languages.”

“Oh… Oh my god.” You say, stopping in your tracks. You look up at Namjoon with wide, confused eyes.

“It’s ok.” Namjoon says, pulling you after him into the bathroom aisle with a light touch to the arm.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,”

“It’s fine I swear.” He reassures, steering you until you’re standing in front of the shower curtains.

“Wow, all this time I was acting like we didn’t know each other-”

“Y/N...” He tries to stop you.

“I’m sorry I have the worst memory.”

“I think it was more your complete and utter lack of interest for anyone but Taehyung that did it.” He teases, not unkindly. There’s more an air of resignation to it.

You drop your head in your hands, feeling flustered and embarrassed.

“Wow everyone really knows, huh?”

“You’re not exactly subtle.”

Maybe your friends were right; maybe you need to take a breather. Maybe this summer away from him is a good thing.

“So… Namjoon Kim, how long have we ‘known’ each other?” You question, quotation marks and everything.

“Well…” He trails off, thinking about it for a second before answering, scratching his head as he seems to be wracking his brain for the exact information. “Taehyung introduced us during one of the first dorms get-together, so I'd say as long as you’ve known Taehyung.”

You groan, pulling on one of the displayed shower curtains, hiding your face behind, doing your best impression of an ostrich burying its head in the sand.

“I’m a horrible person.” You state to no one.

“To be fair though, I was not on the same floor as you guys, so we probably didn’t see much of each other.”

God, he’s such a good person, trying to make sure you don’t feel bad with yourself for basically ignoring him for two whole years. It literally took him moving in with you to notice him. You peek from behind the curtain, not ready to come out completely.

“I feel horrible, I’m really sorry I didn't mean to ignore you for two fucking years.”

“You’re good, y/n, I understand. Actually I think that you-.” He says, but cuts himself short, mouth slamming shut.

“You think that I...?” You ask, curiously, eyebrows going up.

“No, nothing. It’s nothing.” He answers, but it’s hurried, the look on his face borderline frantic. He doubles up on the fiddling with the slippers, the price tag close to coming off with the way he’s tugging on it.

‘Curiosity killed the cat’ they say, but you’ve never listened to that; when you feel like something is being hid from you, you’re like a starving shark smelling blood. You can’t let go, you need to know what’s putting Namjoon in this state; what he was about to say about you.

“Namjoon, it’s ok, you can tell me.” You try to go for a reassuring smile, but the look in your eyes must give you away because it only serves to make Namjoon look more worried.

“I- I think that.” He clears his throat, looking around nervously. “I think that you’re holding the ugliest shower curtain I’ve ever seen.”

You frown, looking down at the aforementioned curtain you're currently still half hiding behind.

It’s truly atrocious; it’s a solid ugly grey color, the top part bare of anything, but starting from the middle, the bottom part is layers of ruffles over ruffles, hemmed by some white lace. It’s truly horrifying; very hard to look at.

“Namjoon.” You say, and his eyes finally settle on you.

“Namjoon, if you don’t tell me what you were going to say I'm making you buy this truly horrifyingly ugly curtain.”

There’s a look of pure unadulterated horror passing through his eyes, before he composes himself, looking perfectly neutral.

“It’s your bathroom, I'll buy whatever you want.” He says, voice void of infliction, and you smirk, pleased.

“Amazing, I’m so grateful you’re willing to spend seventy bucks on this curtain.”

“Seventy bucks?!” He exclaims, choking on air. You know he’s a student; students are usually poor. Simple math.

“Or… you could tell me what you were going to say, and I can settle for this beautiful plain white curtain,-” You entice, coming out of hiding to grab the other curtain on the display, stretching it out and showing it off as if you were in an infomercial. “yours for only…” You pause, checking the price tag, “ $9,99.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a moment of silence, he mutters something so quickly you can’t catch any of it.

“Come again?” You ask, turning on your heels to hug the monstrous grey ruffle disaster to yourself in a threatening manner.

“I said…” He looks about ready to take a bite out of the slipper to avoid your questioning. “ I think that you’re- I think that- It’s cute.” He stammers.

Of all the things, you were not expecting that.

“What?”

“I think it’s cute, ok? I think that you’re cute for focusing all your attention on him like that.”

You’re shocked and confused. This is not the words usually used by your friends to describe your relationship with Taehyung.

“It’s like the rest of the world around you fades away when you’re with him or you think of him, and I wish-...I wish I had someone who liked me that much too.” He finishes, the tip of his ears burning scarlet.

You take him in at that moment, this broad and tall human, with the nicest set of dimples, the soft eyes hidden behind his glasses, the overall grand-father look that he somehow rocks; The way he’s so big yet he’s got this whole gentle vibe going on; how he’s so involuntarily destructive but he also has this calm aura surrounding him.

Suddenly, you’re kind of glad Taehyung is not around. You probably would never have noticed Namjoon if he hadn’t left. It’s only been 24 hours but you already know Namjoon is the kind of person you want to befriend. And he seems to want to befriend you too, so maybe, this summer won’t be so bad.

This summer is terrible.

You get a text from your boss first thing in the morning asking you to come in early, someone else having called in sick. Your bus shows up late, making you late, and you barely have time to catch a breath before Karen, the manager, is on you, lecturing you for your tardiness. Yes, maybe you’re often late, but you can’t really help it if mother nature skipped you when handing out punctuality.

You’re barely clocked in when you’re handed some cleaning tool, a customer having made a mess with some jam pots, meaning this is going to be a sticky disaster. Then you get screamed at because some prick disagrees with the pricing of a jar of pickles, as if that had anything to do with you; You hate pickles.

It just gets dumber from there on, and when the end of your shift comes around, you can’t wait to just be back home, with nothing to do but finally watch the finale of Hannah Brown’s season and maybe stuff your face with whatever you got from the grocery haul you did yesterday.

You wonder if Namjoon is cooking anything; a part of you hopes that he isn’t, worried for the state of the kitchen; another part of you would definitely be pleasantly surprised. As long as there’s no more garlic on the horizon.

It’s kind of weird how this is technically day 3 of you being roommates and you’re already used to his presence. Of course there’s still some awkward moments, but they never last too long.

Namjoon is such a sweetheart, and there’s a part of you that is mad for basically depriving yourself of his friendship for so long. Another part is happy that you did so, or his arrival in your life wouldn’t be the perfect distraction from Taehyung abandoning you. Not that you consider him a distraction, but he’s definitely distracting.

When he’s not falling in showers, he’s singing in them, apparently. Completely off tune, his voice not the most graceful, but still very, very endearing. A shame that you had to rush to go to work while he was having his very own concert, or you would probably have gotten out your phone to gather some blackmail materials.

There’s also his possible inability to cook anything other than pasta; it’s been three days but you’ve already seen him cook some kind of spaghetti at least thrice.

You’re not the most accomplished cook, but you can manage. You have a feeling that next to Namjoon though, you probably look like a professional Michelin decorated Chef. You’re thinking about taking over mealtime when you’re home, maybe assigning him the sous-chef role. A risk that you’re willing to take so you don’t have to see what would probably be a hurt expression at being completely dismissed from the kitchen.

There’s also his ankles. He’s got such pretty ankles, you’re kind of jealous. They’re all dainty and pretty, which is not what a man probably wants to hear when talking about his body, so you’ve decided to keep this compliment to yourself.

You’re not sure exactly what he does during his day. So far you’ve observed that he spends a lot of time in sweatpants, on his computer, earphones cutting him off from the world. He had spent a few hours on the couch yesterday, a focused look on his face as he was clearly working on something, but you didn't want to bother him to ask him what he was doing.

You get home, sighing deeply as you finally take off your shoes after nine hours of standing. It’s dinner time, your stomach is growling, there doesn’t seem to be any action in the kitchen, and you don’t have the strength or patience to cook anything right now, so you grab your phone, pulling up the UberEat app.

You plop down onto the couch, bouncing slightly before properly melting into it, but you can't fall asleep now, you’re on a food-oriented mission.

You’re about to pull up the page of your favorite pizza place when something in your peripheral vision catches your eyes.

It’s Namjoon’s laptop, open on the side table, earphone hanging from the side; The screen light is dim, but you can easily recognize the face on the paused screen.

It’s John Paul Jones.

You can’t believe your eyes, and you’re so shocked, you don’t hear the bathroom door open. You jostle when Namjoon appears in a flash, slamming the laptop shut, looking particularly distraught.

“You did not just see that.” He says, hand still on his laptop, frozen in position.

“I sure fucking did.” You exclaim, eyes sparkling. This is the best thing ever. “You’re watching The bachelorette. Alone. Because this is something you actually enjoy.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.” He whines, dropping into a low squat, wiping his face down with one hand. “I swear I’m a feminist.”

“You’re a romantic, you love love.”

Namjoon groans.

“That’s why you don’t judge me for my crush. You’ve seen worse.” You marvel, and he looks up shyly at your tone.

“You don’t have to worry, I won’t tell anyone...” You linger on the pause for a moment, keeping him guessing. “As long as you promise to do your marathon with me.”

He frowns for a second, searching your face for the teasing or ‘just joking’ that he thinks is coming. But it’s not.

“You’re...a fan of The Bachelor franchise?” he wonders aloud, and you laugh out loud at the bemusement on his face.

“If by fan you mean slowly but surely making my way through all the seasons, all the series, all the content I can, then yes, I would say that I’m a fan.”

There’s a shy smile growing on his face, his dimple going the deepest you’ve ever seen them so far in your three days of co-existing. You’re on the verge of popping out a ruler and verifying once and for all how deep those really are.

“Then yes, Y/N, I will accept your offer of being your bachelor buddy.” He chuckles.

There seems to be a lot of marathons on this summer’s horizon, and you love the idea.

Going to sleep at 5 am is never a good decision, but when it’s because you were binge-watching Bachelor in Paradise with your new bachelor buddy, then you can forgive yourself.

You step out of your room, yawning, at the same time as Namjoon does.

“Hey” You greet him, to which he answers with a small wave, squinty eyes avoiding the light.

“Hungry?” You ask, scratching your head as you make your way to the kitchen, Namjoon following behind.

“Ravenous” He croaks, morning voice ten tones deeper. But it’s not affecting you. Not at all.

You open the fridge to browse the content, pulling out some milk to make yourself some cereal, going to sit at the table so you can both eat and scroll through your phone comfortably.

Namjoon sits on the other side, buttering up some toast with an impressive amount of Nutella; but you’re not judging, being an ex Nutella-addict yourself.

You pull up your text like you’ve been doing for the past few days, checking if you received any messages that your phone failed to notify you about, sighing when you still have no answer from Taehyung. You would worry, except there hasn’t been any newsworthy event about planes or Korea or anything; you’ve been following the news just to be sure.

You peek at Namjoon, who’s staring blankly into his slice of bread with the air of someone who didn’t get enough sleep. You clear your throat lightly to get his attention.

He raises unfocused eyes on you, and you have to bite back a coo at how adorably soft he looks, with his soft brown hair a mess, eyes still half-open, a light stubble slightly apparent, and his mouth hanging slack.

“Did you...did Taehyung send you a text or something? Since he left?”

It takes Namjoon a second to register the question, frowning for a split second before shaking his head.

“He hasn’t, but I wouldn’t worry. His family would have reached out if he hadn’t made it safely.”

“Hmm good point.” You nod, going back to your cereal. You’re slowly coming to terms with the fact that Taehyung seems to have completely forgotten about you. It hurts like a bitch, but it’s getting bearable. You’re not sure how it’s going to be between the two of you once he comes back from his summer spent chasing his internet girlfriend, leaving you in the dust. You’ll definitely feel awkward around him, at least for the first few weeks. You’ll have to have a talk with him, maybe ask for an apology. So many of the plans you made together are now definitely not happening.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“The other day you said that you always plan stuff factoring in Taehyung’s interest and choices, and that kind of bothered me.” Namjoon mumbles, looking suddenly very awake but also very shy.

“Aw, don’t be bothered. In a way it’s kind of my fault you know. I could easily just do my own things, but I choose to plan around him because I want to spend time with him…” You pause, wince. “It’s kind of sad now that I’m putting it this way.”

“I know that he considers you his best friend, though, and relationships, even platonic ones, go both ways.”

You smile into your cereal, pushing them around the milk.

“I appreciate you defending my honor, Namjoon.” You tease lightly, a warm feeling spreading through your chest.

“Actually I was wondering-,” He cuts himself off, scratching his head, before carrying on, “I was wondering, is there something you’ve always wanted to do? But you haven’t since it’s not something Taehyung would appreciate?”

The question takes you by surprise, and you wrack your brain, trying to think of something.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to do a road trip to the future birthplace of Captain Kirk in Iowa, but Taehyung’s not really into SciFi, so I never brought it up.”

Namjoon’s face is the one of someone who was not expecting this answer at all, and he stares at you for a long moment, something akin to wonder sparkling in his eyes.

“You like Star Trek.” He marvels, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. “How are you so perfect.”

You freeze, he freezes; everyone freezes.

“Wait, what did you just say?”

“Erhm, well, hum,-” He stammers incoherently, face growing red, before finally getting control of his tongue again. “I mean, your cinematic taste; they’re perfect. How is your cinematic taste so perfect? I just woke up, my brain is still half asleep.” He laughs, but it sounds forced, and you take pity over him.

“Sure.” You answer, dragging on the syllable. ”Anyway, that’s what I would do. I’ve always wanted to visit there, and I’ve always wanted to do a road trip, so, yeah.”

Namjoon looks grateful that you’re not insisting, taking a big swing from his glass of milk, and you’re scared that he’s going to choke and splurt milk all over the table and you for a second. Knowing his track record when nervous, it wouldn't surprise you, but he manages to keep it all in without incident.

It’s been a while since you’ve practiced your reanimation techniques and Heimlich maneuver, and you make a note to review some videos, just in case. You have a feeling that living with Namjoon is stressful

“The reason I’m asking is, well, I’ve got nothing planned this summer, and I would love to try new things. I know we’re basically strangers at this point, but, if you want we could, you know, do some stuff together. Like, I would love doing a road trip to Captain Kirk’s future Birthplace. Only if you want! I don’t want to impose myself either. If you want to save that for friends you know better, it’s perfectly fine. I’m just saying, like, I’m open to doing stuff with you. Like, I think we get along well and,- Now I’m just rambling.”

You giggle, finding this whole thing quite endearing. You’re tempted to torture him a little, but you decide to take pity on him; it’s morning after all.

“Namjoon.”

“Yes.”

“I would love to go on that road trip with you.” You state simply, and your words take a moment to register, but he gives you a beaming smile, the dimples making yet another noticed apparition. The joy is short-lived though, a frown making its way on his face.

“There��s just one thing; I don’t drive.”

You snort, extending your hand to tap lightly on his, comforting.

“It’s a good thing if you ask me.”

“...Do you?” He asks tentatively.

“Yeah baby,” You exclaim, pulling out your best southern accent. “I'm a licensed driver and everything. ‘Haven’t drove into a wall since 2016.”

“That's not as reassuring as you think it is.”

“Are you questioning my driving abilities?” You ask, leaning forward in a threatening manner.

“...No.” He gulps.

“Then let’s set a date!”

There’s a new air of excitement taking over the kitchen, the prospect of a road trip making you feel giddy like a child going to Disneyland.

“Wait, where would you get the car?”

“I can pull some strings.” You shrug with a taunting eyebrow raise, aiming for mysterious. There’s a certain someone who owes you one, and this is the perfect occasion for him to pay his due.

Before Namjoon can question you further, someone starts knocking on the door incessantly. You turn questioning eyes to Namjoon, who mirrors the look, and he stands up, hurrying to the door as the onslaught doesn't seem to be stopping.

There’s a flurry of movement as whoever is on the other side of the door jumps into Namjoon’s arms, sending him swaying back from the weight. There’s confusion and shock on Namjoon’s face, and you quickly understand why.

“Tae?!”

#btswriterscollective #btsboulangerie #bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #bangtanhq #magicshopnet #bangtanscenery #btswritersnet #plotsofpastel #bangtanscenerycollab #armysource #Bangtanidx

411 notes · View notes

dr-imagines-modfuyuhiko · 4 years ago

Text

Reader stops Nagito from starting the killing game

Think of this as a “Mod Fuyu’s Birthday Special” cause it’s my birthday and I had the idea :) After this I’ll finish up the requests and post em

Also, if you like this kind of “what if this kind of person stopped so-and-so from happening”, I love writing this kinda stuff so feel free to ask for it

Category: Neutral/kinda angst(??) imagine (might make more parts)

Specifics: GN!reader, reader is the Ultimate Analyst, takes place in Chapter 1 of SDR2, kind of Nagito x reader???

Warnings: Nagito being Nagito, Twogami pats you down? Idk if that counts as a warning? And lowkey stalking Hope Bagel Boy, I believe that’s it- also there are things in here that are just my headcannons so please don’t come at me for them, thank you

You had your eye on Nagito since everyone arrived. The moment he introduced himself, you found something... off... about him. Due to you being unsure of what was wrong, you immediately began to silently observe him out of habit. He clearly noticed, even if he tried to hide it. At the very least, he wasn’t bothered by it.

Pretty quickly you were able to figure out he had dementia, perhaps cancer, and definitely some ptsd. His pale skin, the fact that the tips of his hair had some color, as well as his subtle behavior lead you to the first two. He didn’t react well when you brought up maybe flying off the island. Even if he seemed normal to everyone else and acted like it didn’t bother him, it was obvious to you. You picked up on the strained but natural-looking smile he forced. You guess that’s the perk of being the Ultimate Analyst, seeing things people won’t tell you.

He would also constantly praise you and the group- or more accurately, praised your talents. You were slightly annoyed by this, you were more than just a talent, but kept your mouth shut for the time being. He definitely had some sort of inferiority complex, or had trauma that made him believe he wasn’t worthy of basic human rights, maybe it was both.

Because of these reasons, you felt the need to not only help the boy, but maybe befriend him if possible?

So when this “killing game” was announced, you stuck to his side. Time and time again he said it wasn’t necessary, but you still wanted to get close to him. You knew he wouldn’t open up easily, seeing as he brushes off questions about himself, but you were determined enough to stay with him till he did.

Once Byakuya announced a party will commence, seemingly out of nowhere, you immediately had your eyes set on Nagito. He instantly agreed with some hope/friendship rant. He had something to do with this. He had to. So from that moment, even if it was from a distance, you were keeping an eye on him.

Soon you figured out the biggest factor of Nagito. The thing that had made him who he is now and the reason why he treated you all like gods. That his luck was indeed real.

—————

“So how are we gonna decide who’ll clean up the place?” You asked, still a little concerned about the suddenness of the party. If it weren’t for Nagito, you’d probably be like Fuyuhiko and refuse to attend.

“Are there any volunteers?” Byakuya turned to the group. No one said anything in response, leaving the supposed-heir (you had doubts of his identity, but he was a good leader so for now you let it slide) to sigh.

“We could draw sticks? Let chance decide?” Nagito found some sticks in his jacket, breaking one to be shorter than the others.

“Wait- that wouldn’t be fair! You’d be off cleaning duty!” Hajime joked with a small smile. Even so, Nagito gave a simple smile, the same one he had when he was hiding something. It was the same smile when he tried not to reveal he was upset by the planes. As well as the same one he had when Byakuya first brought up having a party.

Despite this, you decided to play along. Going first, you sighed a breath when you got a long stick. One by one, everyone pulled. All of them got long sticks.

The tall, white haired boy revealed the final stick, showing it to be the short one.

“Heh, guess my luck isn’t always great,” he gave that smile again, “my talent clearly isn’t accurate.”

You gave a suspicious look to him. Letting everyone else joyfully leave the room, you stayed behind.

“Y/n?” Nagito looked a little confused, “Is there something you’d like?”

Taking a breath, you answered. “I wanna help!” You gave a fake excited smile, tilting your head to the side for emphasis.

“You don’t have to help scum like me, Y/n,” he sounded as if he was desperate, “I have this under control.” Thinking quickly, you attempted to prove your talent true to him, showing you can pick up on things he won’t tell. But you also can’t let him know you think he is up to something.

“Nagito,” you started slowly, “you get fatigued so easily, I don’t want you hurting yourself!” The boy looked taken aback. He smiled once again.

“You really are the Ultimate Analyst! Such an amazing talent!” He bit his inner cheek. “If you insist then!”

With that, he let you help out with the preparations. Though he was a bit more careful when he left the room after about a two to three hours. He used the excuse of needing to go to the bathroom. Of course, you knew better.

After a few minutes, he came back. Smile still on his face, but you could’ve swore there was something softly glowing inside his jacket. You then took your own turn of “using the bathroom”.

On the way to see what exactly Nagito did, you ran into Teruteru, who looked terrified. He sounded even worse, an accent of some sort bleeding a bit into his words.

“Y-You’re not apart of his crazy idea, h-huh?!”

What?

“What idea?” You moved so you were at eye level with the chef. “Teruteru, what’s Nagito planning.”

He still stood there, frozen completely. You looked over your shoulder to make sure Nagito couldn’t see you. You turned back to Teruteru, speaking slow and calmly.

“Teruteru.” You tried to remain calm, “I know something is up with him. Please, tell me what he said to you.”

“H-he’s plannin’ on killin’ so’body!” His words were quick and panicked. The accent was thicker now. It took you just a second to fully understand him. You brought your hands to his shoulders.

“Don’t say anything to anyone just yet, okay? Not even Nagito.” He looked slightly confused. “We don’t want anyone else panicking. It could cause absolute chaos. What we need to do is stop Nagito from killing in a silent manner. Do you know what exactly his plan is?”

Once more, the boy nodded. Calmer now, he told you what he knew. The two of you figured out how to stop Nagito without him knowing. He agreed to run out and tell Byakuya what was going on and have him approve of the plan. With a final sigh, you walked back into the room.

“Where were you? It’s been a good 20 minutes, not planning on murder I hope.” He chuckled at his joke. You hid your grimace.

“No, I just ran into Teruteru and had him ask Byakuya if the iron skewers would be considered a weapon.” You lied easily, putting on a relaxed-looking smile. “He wanted to use them for a more tropical theme.”

Nagito simply nodded in response. The two of you quickly finished up. You attempted to find where his weapon would be and take it out to bring it to Byakuya, but you couldn’t do so with Nagito staring at you.

—————

Before long, the nighttime announcement went off. You brushed off your top and fixed up anything you saw necessary. Taking a final breath of preparation, you ran over to the old hotel.

“Did you confiscate his weapon?” Byakuya asked as he pat your sides down in routine. Even if you had stopped Nagito and Teruteru from killing, he still wanted to check you to be safe.

“Unfortunately, no, he wouldn’t leave the room until I did.” You answered truthfully. The large man pulled back once he was satisfied with his search. “But I’ll keep him close, and make sure I know where he is when his plan starts.” He nodded in understanding and let you into the room.

Upon entering, you heard numerous compliments on the room directed towards Nagito. Though he was quick to say that you had stayed behind to help. Almost as if he’s trying to make a point of it to the others..

Everything was going smoothly. Teruteru brought out food, Peko went to guard the case in the office, and Chiaki went with Monomi to prevent Monokuma from coming in. You made sure to stay next to Nagito the whole time, sneaking glances at the clock on the air conditioner. Even when Ibuki excitedly tried to pull you towards something else, you always found your way back to Nagito.

And then it struck 11:30.

The lights went out as you and Nagito stood next to the table near the back of the room. Quickly, you flew your hand up to grasp Nagito’s sleeve, knowing even if you were unable to, Byakuya would catch him leaving your side. You held his arm close to you, stopping him from walking off until the lights came back on.

As soon as they did, your eyes landed on Mikan, who was helplessly sprawled out across the floor. You pushed your gaze away from her as Mahiru helped her up. When you looked to Nagito, his eyes were latched onto you. They held a curious but cautious look. In a rush, you acted oblivious to what the true consequence of your actions were.

“S-sorry!” You let go of him immediately, “I just latched onto the closest person! I was scared!”

“It’s okay..” He knew something of your true intentions. You can tell by his eyes.

You let a smile fall over your face and looked away. Byakuya met your gaze, proud of the work you had done. Even if you didn’t see it as much to do, he definitely did.

“Everyone,” Sonia called out, “go look for Peko and Chiaki! Make sure they are okay!” After a short shout of affirmation from Kazuichi, everyone split off to find the two.

Everyone except you and Nagito. The latter of which pulled you to a room near the back of the building. Isn’t this where Byakuya originally decided to put the case? You saw the irons Teruteru spoke about earlier that day and it made sense.

You turned to Nagito, slightly confused as to why he pulled you aside. Did he know you purposely stopped him? How would he? You made sure to keep quiet about it.

“Y/n...” Nagito’s voice was serious, it almost scared you. “You knew what you were doing.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a demand to admit.

“And? You just expect me to let you kill an innocent classmate?” You shot back, irritated.

“If I start this game, the rest of you would be able to use me as a stepping stone for hope!”

What???

A stepping stone for hope???

You took a minute to process what exactly he meant. Putting together his self-loathing words, the way he saw and described you all as almost godlike figures, and his already tortured mind- was it possible he did this just so you could “have hope”?

“Nagito.” You pulled his face to be level with yours, furious yes, but also concerned for the man you want to consider a friend. “We don’t need you to sacrifice yours and another person’s life to have hope. We’re already doing that, like you said when Byakuya first came up with the party idea!”

“But Y/n...” His voice trailed off, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

“In a way, you did help us.” You tried to give a reassuring smile, not exactly used to comforting people as you are to reading them. “You’re the reason we had the party, we’re all closer because of it.”

He let out a bitter laugh and looked off to the side. “Scum like me doesn’t deserve that sort of praise, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Nagito. Look at me.” He kept his gaze away from you. “Nagito.”

The sternness of your voice made his head snap towards you. He looked almost scared. Maybe has trauma with verbal abuse, got it. You kept your voice calmer.

“You’re not scum. And you do deserve the praise. Even if your reasoning was flawed, you brought all of us together. People are gonna be less likely to kill.” Nagito’s eyes shone like he wasn’t used to this sort of talk, especially about himself. The swirl in his eyes left completely “I know you might not think so, but you had a good effect on us. We’ll figure out a way to get off this island without participating in this killing game. I promise.” You let a genuine smile show on your face before jokingly adding, “Oh, and without using a plane preferably.”

Nagito seemed to have mixed emotions, but stayed silent nonetheless. He simply nodded his head and gave a smile- it wasn’t the strained one though. Neither was it the one he put up as a front. This was his genuine smile.

The door opening had startled you out of your observations. You snatched your hands away from Nagito’s face and looked to the door. Your face was slightly heated. Gundham had a surprised look on his face.

“Dearest apologies, but I must obtain my Hell Hound Earring. This room must have the entrance leading to it.” Without speaking, you simply pointed to the trap door in the back of the storage room. Gundham simply nodded in appreciation and moved to the side for you and Nagito to get out of the small room.

#Nagito Komaeda #danganronpa nagito #nagito danganronpa #danganronpa #danganronpa imagines #dr2 imagines #dr2 nagito #DR2 #nagito x reader #nagito komeada x reader

56 notes · View notes

doyoufancyathought · 4 years ago

Text

Through The Utility Closet Part 2: An Unexpected Visitor

Y/N looked up from where she had landed on the floor. There was a table of open mouthed individuals, and one very confused presenter, looking down on her. Whoops, this is something she'd have to text her best friend about when she got home.

"I'm so sorry," Y/N stood up and dusted off her apron. "I had no idea there was a second door in the closet, and I couldn't find the light switch, and-"

And she was cut off. "Where did you come from?" The presenter asked.

Y/N motioned to the closet she had just spilled out of. "The storage room?"

"That's a coat closet. And we don't even keep coats in it. How long have you been hiding in there?"

"I'm so sorry," Y/N started to back up, not liking the route her evening had taken. "I swear I wasn't hiding, I was just in the room to put a box on the shelf, I was only in there for a minute, I swear."

He looked confused, as did the people seated around the table. "We've been here for 20 minutes, and there's no way you snuck past us carrying a box."

"Oh, there must be a different door that I came through, then. I'm so sorry, I'll be going now."

"Wait a minute," the man walked over and blocked her from getting back into the closet. "This is my coat closet, and I want to investigate where you came from. Rogers, come here please."

A hulking blonde man stood up from the opposite side of the table and started walking towards our heroine. He said a quiet "Hi, 'scuse me." and maneuvered past her and joined the other man in the room.

"Tony, there's no other door, just the one right here." The blond man said.

I suppose it's important to establish that it's not normal to have secondary doors to coat closets unless you live in a haunted Victorian home full of ghosts that have already plotted 63 different ways to kill you by Tuesday.

"I know, Steve!"

"Then where did she come from?"

"I don't know! She certainly didn't sneak in since we've been here!"

The two men in the closet bickered back and forth for a few minutes. Meanwhile, Y/N turned to the room full of strangers who were observing both her and the argument in the closet in equal amounts. She caught the eye of a massive brunet, and gave him the classic smile given to those you wish to scootch past in the grocery store. He looked away, and a man who I could have sworn had just had a red complexion rose from his chair to stand beside Y/N.

"I do apologize for our manners. My name is Vision, what's yours?"

"I'm Y/N."

"Lovely name. And where are you from, Y/N?"

This gave her pause. She assumed that she was from the same place as they were, the town they were all in at this very moment.

"I'm from here?"

"And where exactly do you think here is?"

"What, you think this door teleported me? I'm in (hometown) of course, same as you!" Y/N chuckled as she looked around the room. She caught the rest of the group exchanging looks, and sighed. "Right?"

Vision gently patted her shoulder. "I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you this, dear, but you're not in (hometown) anymore. You're in New York."

Y/N looked between Vision and the others. "What? That's crazy! I'm not - there's no way. You guys are crazy." Y/N looked over her shoulder to see the two men in the closet peering out at the rest of the room. "Did you find the other door? I really should get back to work, and I'm sure you all should get back to your meeting."

They shook their heads and moved out of the closet, although it was a battle between who entered the doorway first.

"I'll find it, and I'll be on my way." Y/N charged back into the closet, and crossed the foot and a half wide floor with one step. Surely she'd be better at finding a mysteriously elusive door than two men, right? She ran her fingers over the walls, looking for a hinge or a handle or even a bump to indicate an opening of any kind. She'd even pull an Alice in Wonderland and crawl on her hands and knees through a hole in the wall if she must.

Still, no luck. The wall was as smooth as a baby's bottom, which were usually quite smooth. So, Y/N returned to the boardroom with her arms crossed.

"Alright, this joke is very funny, but I'm really ready to go back to work now!"

"We're not pulling a prank here, I promise, we're just as surprised as you are."

"Seriously? Who paid you to do this? I don't know anyone who could pay you to pull this off. Who did it?"

"Seriously, lady, there's no joke here. We're not pranking you."

"Then," Y/N paused and licked her lips. "Hey, man, where did you say we are?"

Vision told her that she was in New York now. It was too much. Between the heat and the stress and the exhaustion, Y/N's brain couldn't take it any longer. Steve barely had time to leap back over the table and catch her in his arms before she crumbled to the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Y/N woke up, she was still in the boardroom, laid out on the floor, surrounded by good looking strangers. Weirdly, her life was looking better than it usually did.

"What happened?"

"You fainted, dear." A man with a goatee spoke up. "Don't worry, you weren't out for very long. I'm a doctor, by the way. Doctor Stephen Strange."

"That's, well," Y/N searched for a better word to describe her situation. "Strange." The man frowned down at her. "Not you, I'm sorry, just, I don't faint, I'm not really the damsel in distress type. Where am I?"

"This again?!?!" Y/N recognized the man from before, Tony. "You're in New York! Where did you come from?"

"I came from work, in (hometown). I don't just wear this apron around for fun, you know!" Y/N gestured to her apron, which conveniently had the company logo on it. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. "So, I'm in New York. And I came out of your coat closet. And before that, I was at my job in (hometown), just going about my day. How did I get here?"

"Well," the man called Vision came back into the room. "I'm not quite sure, but if I had to guess, which I don't do often, you've just come through an inter-dimensional portal."

"A what now?"

"An inter-dimensional portal. You've travelled through space, clearly, possibly time as well, and I would guess you've also travelled across different planes of reality since you seem to have no comprehension of who we are. Thus, you've crossed into a different dimension that the one you usually reside in."

"That totally makes sense."

"Oh, really?" The blond giant from earlier asked.

"No, absolutely not. That did not make sense at all, Vision. I thought portals only existed in sci-fi, like Star Trek or stuff like that!" Y/N was, indeed, very confused.

"I think the science might be a little beyond your understanding, dear." Vision said. "But it appears to me that your storage cupboard was a doorway to this universe, to this reality. Sometimes these things just pop up, you know."

Y/N looked at Vision. "No, I don't know that these things just pop up! Pretty sure I would have heard about it on the news." Everyone sat for a moment, pondering their next steps. "So does anyone have any ideas on how to get me back to my world?" Y/N looked around hopefully.

The group of people around her all looked at each other, and Tony, Vision, and Dr. Strange looked thoughtful.

"I think that between the three of us we can probably figure out how to get you home." Dr. Strange finally said.

"And how long will that take? Like a couple of hours maybe?" Y/N asked from the floor.

"Uh, no." Tony stood up and started clearing off a whiteboard. "Inter-dimensional portals cannot be figured out in just a few hours, strange lady. It'll take a few days, at best. You got somewhere to stay?"

"Tony, she's not going to have anywhere to stay, she's not from here." Steve explained.

"She can stay with us!" a dark man with a buzz cut offered. "I've got a spare room in the basement still, she can stay there until we figure out how to get her home. I'm Sam, by the way."

"Hi Sam, I'm Y/N. You don't have to take me in, I can just stay in a shelter if there's one nearby."

"Hang on, I'm calling Fury." Tony dialled a phone, and pointed at me while it was ringing. "You're not staying in a shelter."

"No, it's fine, I'm sure it won't be too bad."

"They're terrible, you're not staying at a shelter, you're coming with me." Sam said.

"And why would I stay with you? I don't know who you are, why should I trust you more than some homeless shelter?" Y/N was standing now, and crossed her arms.

"We're the Avengers! You can trust us."

"I don't think you understand how little that means to me. Who are you?"

"The Avengers."

"And what is the Avengers? Sounds like either a league of superheroes or a terrible pop group."

"We're superheroes."

"Oh shit really?" Y/N blushed. "You're superheroes, for real?"

The group around the table nodded.

"So who's got the laser eyes?"

The group looked mildly confused, because none of them had laser eyes, but fortunately they didn't have a chance to answer, because Fury answered the phone, and Tony set it to speaker.

"What can I help you with, Stark?"

"Well, see, here's the situation. We're just sitting here, having our meeting, and the closet door pops open and this girl comes flying out onto the floor."

"Okay, so you have a spy, you know what to do with that."

"I'm not done yet. We thought she was a spy, but we've come to the conclusion that she actually just came through an inter-dimensional portal."

"So you have an alien in your conference room?"

"She's not an alien, Mr. Fury." Vision interjected. "I've scanned her, and she seems to be perfectly human."

Y/N frowned. She didn't like the thought of being scanned without consent. And how could Vision tell that she was human anyways? And did this guy think she was an alien? Were aliens common in this world?

The man on the other end of the phone sighed. "Is she there?"

"Yeah, she's been here the whole time. You're on speaker." Tony responded.

"I'd like to speak to her."

"Talk away, she's right here."

"Hello, what's your name?"

"I'm Y/n." she said, moving closer to the phone.

"Hi, well welcome to Earth. I'm Nick Fury, director of SHIELD. Welcome to Earth."

"Thanks, but I'm already from Earth, I don't really need a welcome."

"Ok, we'll brush past that for now. Have they explained the inter-dimension portals to you yet?"

"They tried, but if I'm being honest that's a little bit out of my league."

"Fair enough. You're in good hands there; we have the best scientists in the world at those labs. As you might imagine, it's not really an exact science, these portals, so it might take our team a while to figure out how to get you home."

"So are you guys like the men in black? Do you have that movie here?"

"Yeah, we have that movie here. I'm guessing that your world is very very similar to ours, so we're going to be taking you down to one of our labs and running a few tests so we can better determine where you're from. In the mean time, I'll let the Avengers take care of you, they don't have any other pressing matters at this time, and just in case you're a violent alien, they're best equipped to deal with you going rogue."

"Uh, well, I guess that sounds good. I promise I'm not an alien though."

"We'll see about that." Fury hung up and I looked around the room.

"I should make introductions, pardon my manners." Vision stood up from his seat (he kinda seemed to float, but maybe he was just hella graceful).

"This is Steven Rogers, you might hear him referred to as Captain America." The blond man who had earlier joined Tony in a closet gave a quick wave and a smile. He seemed very friendly.

"This is James Barnes, he's very quiet, so don't take offence if he doesn't say much to you. He means no harm." Vision pointed to the brunet I had locked eyes with earlier, and he gave a small smile, but didn't wave.

"This is Sam Wilson, as you know. He, Steve, and James all live together in Sam's house, and I suppose you'll be joining them. I'd offer you our couch, but my wife Wanda and I," here he pointed to a lovely brunette woman seated beside him. "are in the middle of renovations, and I'm sure a spare bedroom would be more comfortable for you than a dusty couch."

Y/N nodded. She was going to have a bit of trouble keeping track of everyone's names.

"This is Bruce Banner, this is Natasha Romanoff, Scott Lang, Clint Barton, Stephen Strange, Tony Stark, and of course, I am Vision." They all waved as their names were said.

"Wait, what's your last name?"

"I don't have one, dear. I'm a computer."

"Oh?" Y/N was shocked, understandably so.

"Yes."

"We don't have that in my world."

"Yes, it's uncommon here as well. Are you ready to go do some tests?"

"Um, I guess so. Nice to meet you all."

Vision and Y/N walked out of the meeting room and started down the hallway.

Tony decided to pick up from where they left off. "So as I was saying,"

"Tony!" Steve yelled at him. "What are you doing?"

"Getting back to the meeting we were having?"

"We just had a girl pop through a portal in our closet, and you want to go back to the meeting?"

"Um, yeah. Vision's got her."

"Aren't you curious?"

"Not really."

"The first time something pops out of a portal and doesn't try to kill us, and you're not interested?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Dude, you're crazy. I'm going down to the lab to watch the tests." Scott jumped up from his seat and started making his way to the door.

"Yeah, me too." Steve and Sam stood up, and Bucky followed suit.

Soon enough, the whole team was exiting the conference room and following the path that Y/N and Vision had taken down to the labs. Tony eventually decided to follow them, because he didn't want to be alone.

They got down to the labs, and found Vision waiting in the hallway.

"They sent her to get changed," Vision explained as the team assembled. "If she's staying here for a while, we're going to have to get her some more clothes. I'm sure she doesn't want to stay in her work clothes the entire time."

"Yeah, I'll get Pepper to make arrangements." Tony said.

After a few minutes, Y/N stepped out of a room just off the hallway. She was wearing grey shorts and a black tank top, and nothing on her feet. She frowned as her bare feet hit the cold tile floor.

"Ugh, so cold. Alright, let's figure out where I'm from."

A nurse came and got her, and led her into another room just off the hallway. There was an observation window, and the team gathered around to watch the tests. They watched her as she jumped up on the table, and smiled at the nurse as she began to hook up wires and prep for a blood draw. Soon they would figure out just who this unexpected visitor was.

8 notes · View notes

scullydubois · 4 years ago

Text

Only the Light ch. 5

read on Ao3 here. read the earlier parts here.

Description: Mulder & Scully head to Aubrey, Missouri, but not without a few bumps in the road...

WC: 3,527 words

tagging @today-in-fic

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

Five days. She was five days late. She had never been five days late for anything in her life. Why did it have to be this? Always the perfectionist, she double, then triple checks her math. For once, she hates being right. Five days off, no matter how many times she counts it.

She looks at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. It shudders back at her. This is not possible, she thinks. Her cycle is always on time, and she hasn’t done anything lately near the type of activity that would get her pregnant. But by now, she knows better. Anything is possible, including the unthinkable. Especially the unthinkable. No amount of disbelieving can stop the force of the universe. No amount of believing can either, no matter how devout. These are truths she wishes she never learned.

It occurs to her that she sounds like her sister, which makes her chuckle to herself despite the dreary circumstances. That’s what a few weeks of living with someone can do to you. Then again, maybe it isn’t Missy who’s changing her. The voice in her head sounds more and more like Mulder these days. It scares her sometimes...how succinctly he can present his point of view, how she’d spent almost three decades skeptical and comfortable in this belief and now--less than two years later--she could almost believe him. Wants to believe him, no less.

Mostly though, she wants the truth. Which is what he wants too, but he has a preconceived notion of what he wants that truth to be, and won’t ever be satisfied, she thinks, until he is proven right. The thought that he might never have satisfaction makes her stomach ache. Or maybe that’s a symptom of her other problem...regardless, Scully finds that the notion of never getting answers to their quest makes her want to dissolve into thin air. The desire to disappear was new to her. How odd, to care so much it makes you wish you had never cared at all. This was new to her too.

But as always, she has to keep going, keep moving, keep working, keep her sanity. She puts in her earrings, swipes on her lipstick, and switches off the bathroom light. In her bedroom, she puts on her favorite pair of heels (the most comfortable ones) and zips the pockets on her suitcase. She rolls it into the kitchen, where Missy sips coffee with so much cream it might as well be milk.

“You’re here late,” Melissa remarks.

Scully nods. “I have a flight to Missouri.”

“Oh.” Missy sets the mug down. “Will you be home tonight?”

“I don’t know...maybe...hopefully.”

“Yet you packed a whole suitcase?”

Scully casts a stray glance at the luggage. “I like to be prepared.”

Missy frowns. “Don’t you think you should take a leave of absence?”

As if she didn’t hear, Scully asks, “What?”

“All this traveling and the long hours, while you’re recovering from trauma, no less. It’s not good for you.”

Scully purses her lips. “I’d rather be traveling and working than sitting around here all day.”

“You mean you’d rather be ignoring your feelings.”

Scully recoils, as wounded by this as anything. Being seen as you are never gets easier. It hurts just as much as when they were teenagers and Missy told her she was too nerdy to ever be cool (“and why would you want to be?” is the part she always forgets about), or when they were kids and Missy wouldn’t share her dolls because Scully was “not a good mommy.” If psychics were real, Missy would be one.

Not that Scully would admit that.

“I’ll have plenty of time to process my feelings on the plane,” Scully half-jokes.

“But you won’t!” Missy retorts in good humor as Scully heads for the door.

And then, because they’re sisters and no amount of ill will could change that, Missy yells across the place, “Love you! Be careful! Bye!”

Scully laughs as she unlocks the door. “Bye, Missy! Don’t throw any parties while I’m gone.”

“Uh-huh.”

And so the natural balance of things is restored.

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

She meets Mulder in the terminal at Dulles and they go through their usual morning flight routine: coffee & breakfast (a breakfast sandwich for him, a bagel for her), a stop at the kiosk for Mulder to buy sunflower seeds (he buys her a trashy gossip magazine for fun every time), and a brisk jog to their gate because why “waste time,” as Mulder puts it, by showing up early. There’s usually a remark from Scully about how she’s wearing heels so he needs to slow down, followed by him quipping that she needs to get her head in the game, at which point she reminds him that his legs are at least twice as long as hers.

“It’s not the heels that are the problem,” she teases. “And while we’re on the subject, you wouldn’t be able to pass a sobriety test stone-cold sober in these.”

“You get one cup of coffee in this woman, and suddenly the trash talk comes out,” Mulder says to the air.

“You better watch out or we’ll switch shoes and see how you like it.”

“You underestimate me, Dana Scully.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“I’d prove it, but it would only make you look even more vertically challenged than you already are,” he taunts.

“Not when the heels snap and you turn them into flats.”

“Touché.”

They have some form of this conversation before nearly every flight. It’s one of their rituals, a comforting familiarity in an often uncomfortable line of work. No matter what has happened, they can return to this harmless banter and find solace in it. Scully’s dad died, but they were here. Deep Throat got shot, but they were here. Scully was kidnapped, but they are here again. Scully wonders if the rest of her life will continue this way. She’s not sure if that would be a good or bad thing. She does not say any of this out loud.

They board their flight without any problem. Mulder lifts their suitcases into the overhead compartment as Scully scoots into the window seat. That’s a benefit to traveling with Mulder; he needs the space, so he always takes the aisle seat, leaving Scully with whatever gorgeous view the flight graces them with.

Of course, she usually isn’t looking. Unsurprisingly, Scully’s flight activity of choice is catching up on her reading. The case files, the morning newspaper, sometimes even the gossip magazine Mulder bought her if the case doesn’t keep her busy. She makes a mental note to give this copy to Missy when she gets back. Cheesy stuff like that always makes her smile.

Mulder’s preferred activity, on the other hand, is sleeping. He doesn’t do much of that and has come to realize that a plane is actually one of the easiest, most comfortable places for him to fall asleep. His in-flight power naps are treasured by both him and Scully, who gets through her reading uninterrupted and--every once in a while--uses the occasion to observe the way her partner’s mouth hangs slightly open and his chest rises and falls with his breath. She doesn’t get to notice these things when he falls asleep in their rental car, though that doesn’t happen very often. She’s the one who’s prone to dozing off during a late night drive past cornfields, or deserts, or plains. Perhaps it has something to do with comfort, or the lack of it. She could never sleep on the plane with all these strangers around. The car is much cozier.

The flight to Missouri passes uneventfully. Mulder snores, quiet enough that Scully is almost certain she’s the only one who can hear it. This makes her smile. She wonders, as she frequently does during moments like this, if he is dreaming and what he dreams about. Consorting with aliens, probably. Does he dream about her, or would she be a stranger in his land of dreams? He is no stranger in hers, that’s for sure.

Soon enough the wheels hit the tarmac, and Mulder wakes up almost instantly. Is it any wonder that he’s so at home in the sky? He’s been looking that way for most of his life. It’s the ground that’s alien to him.

Mulder pulls the carry-ons from the overhead bin and they exit the plane in the same way they spent the flight, silent but content. They agreed early on that they wouldn’t talk much on flights. It’s like talking in a library. They get the witty banter out of the way in the airport and leave the more interesting stuff for the rental car. Luckily, they never run out of things to discuss.

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

They move through the airport and sign for a rental car. Mulder takes the keys and they hop in, Mulder in the driver’s seat, Scully on the passenger’s side. Mulder cranks the engine. It grumbles in response.They are alone for the first time all morning.

Scully unfolds a pastel paper map they bought in the shop. “So you’re going to get on I-29 and head north,” she instructs. “Stay on that for a while, it looks like we’re fairly far away from Aubrey.”

“The Bureau couldn’t have picked a closer airport for us to fly into, huh?”

“I guess it’s more cost effective if we finish the last leg of the trip ourselves.”

“It won’t be when I use the Bureau credit card to fill up this piece of junk.” He flashes a smile toward the passenger seat, shifting his gaze off the road a moment to see if she’s smiling too.

She is, but she keeps her lips together, unwilling to give herself away so easily. There’s a telltale sparkle in her eyes though.

Mulder pulls out of the parking lot. “I’ve been meaning to ask you what Melissa was doing at your place the other night. You didn’t mention anything about her being in town.”

Scully purses her lips, keeps her eyes on the map. She’s been hoping that he would not bring this up.

“She’s staying with me for a bit,” she says as casually as possible. “She got a hostess job downtown.”

“So she’s living in DC now?”

“Essentially.” She glances at the map. “Go right.” Mulder listens.

“Where was she living before?”

“The West Coast. An assortment of places. She’s a bit of a wanderer.” She focuses on the map, hoping this will quell the conversation. Mulder doesn’t pick up this signal. He’s watching the road.

“She didn’t come around for your father’s funeral, did she? I don’t remember you talking about her.”

Scully frowns at the map. “No, she didn’t.”

Missy and their father’s relationship had been strained for a number of years. While he didn’t necessarily criticize his eldest daughter for her life choices like their mother sometimes did, he couldn’t understand them, and that was somehow worse. Once he realized that Melissa wasn’t going to fulfill the dreams he had for her, he essentially stopped checking in with her. Not wanting to disappoint him any further, Melissa let them fall out of contact.

This is different from their mother, who makes her opinion about Melissa’s decisions very clear. She’s under the impression that by being straightforward with her daughter, she can have some influence over her life. This has created an odd relationship between them: strained, but in frequent contact. Scully can relate.

“She wanted to be there, but we couldn’t reach her in time. It really upset her, she didn’t talk to my mom until my...incident.”

Mulder casts a sympathetic glance Scully’s way. “Ah.”

They merge onto I-29, their car joining the dozens of others already speeding toward some unknown destination. Mulder is reminded of a thought he often has while driving, and seeing as he’s made Scully share more than she wanted to, he decides to lighten the mood by saying it out loud.

“Driving has always reminded me of a dance,” he says, making brief eye contact with his passenger.

Scully raises her eyebrows, amused by this sudden change of topic. “How so?”

“It’s just a bunch of strangers trying to match each other’s rhythm and not step on any feet.”

“You make it sound so romantic,” Scully replies, unconvinced.

“I mean, it kind of is, isn’t it?...There’s so many songs about it.”

Scully laughs. “I take it back. If there’s so many songs about it, it must be true.”

Mulder smiles. “That’s what I’m saying.”

Speaking of music, Scully switches the radio on. A local country station blasts through the speakers, some song about drinking whiskey and pulling off a gravel road to watch stars from a truck bed.

“See?” Mulder jokes. “Height of romance.”

Scully turns it down, but doesn’t bother to change the station. Mulder now has the courage to ask the question he’s been holding onto.

“So why is Melissa staying with you? Why not get her own place?”

The edges of Scully’s lips tilt down. This again?

“We get along well, so we thought it would be nice. Like being teenagers again.”

Mulder braces himself for an unpleasant reaction from his partner. “So it has nothing to do with your abduction?”

Scully bites her lip.

“Jesus, Mulder.”

“What? You don’t offer information unless I ask. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He glances at her. She’s looking out the window.

“I’m okay,” she confirms.

“You know, if you just elaborated a little bit, I wouldn’t have to ask such prying questions.”

Scully rolls her eyes. “You sound like Melissa.”

“Good. She knows exactly how to handle you.”

“Handle me?” Scully straightens up in her seat. He waited until she was trapped to confront her. What a shitty move.

“How to talk to you, I mean. You’re good at evading the point.”

“And you’re using your interrogation training against me,” she responds, clearly irritated.

“What do you mean?”

“You lightened the mood so I would trust you, then hit back with the toughest question yet. The one you really wanted an answer to.”

Mulder frowns. He had done this instinctively, not realizing that he was treating her like a suspect.

“I’m sorry,” he responds without hesitation. “That wasn’t my intention.”

Scully crosses her arms. “Of course not,” she says curtly.

The drive continues in silence, Scully only speaking up to give him directions off the map. The country station is the only one with anything to say, the singers drawling about booze, babes, and of course, driving. This frays Scully’s nerves. After one song too many about a pick-up truck, Scully switches the radio off.

Mulder wants to make a joke, but now is really not the time. Instead, he focuses on what he’ll say to her when they get to the motel. She needs to be pushed to talk, he knows this and deep down, she does too. He pushed her too hard though, in a manipulative way, and it’s up to him to straighten this out. He knows Scully well enough to know that if there’s no trust, there’ll be no openness. But that trust has to be genuine, not coerced or manufactured. He’ll have to work on building that up again if he wants to know what truly ails her.

The rest of the drive takes about 45 minutes. They don’t even discuss the case. Scully gives directions, Mulder follows them, and they end up in tiny Aubrey, Missouri. It’s just after noon when Mulder cuts the engine in their motel parking lot.

“You hungry?” he asks.

Scully clicks off her seatbelt, reaches for the passenger door. “I’m fine.”

Mulder watches her get out. He pops the trunk so she can grab the suitcases, then meets her at the back of the car. She lugs her suitcase out of the trunk and sets it down beside her. She’s mad at him, but she’s waiting for him. Mulder takes this as a good sign. He grabs his carry-on and shuts the trunk. It thuds closed, shaking the car.

Scully looks up at him. He expects her to say something, then takes the chance when she doesn’t--

“Hey, I know I overstepped my boundaries earlier, and I’m sorry. I just...I was supposed to protect you, and I failed. I’m trying to make up for that by looking out for you now.”

The expression on Scully’s face is as neutral as ever. She extends the handle on her suitcase and turns toward the motel.

She speaks to Mulder from over her shoulder. She’s not mad now, just insistent. “You didn’t fail.” She starts toward the entrance, rolling her suitcase along with her. Mulder jogs for a few strides to catch up with her. He wasn’t expecting her to take off like that.

“You became an X-file on my watch. That’s failure,” he responds.

“It’s my fault. Don’t guilt trip yourself.”

“Are you kidding me?” He freezes in the middle of the parking lot. Scully turns around and walks back to him, not wanting to have this argument here, or ever really.

“Mulder…”

He puts his hands on her shoulders. “Did Skinner ever tell you that I handed him a resignation letter while you were lying unconscious in the hospital? When I was pretty sure you were gonna die because of what I got you involved in?”

His eyes are dark, dark brown right now. Almost black, Scully notices. They’re not like this often. She sighs, then shakes her head. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“If you had--” he leaves a space for the word ”--that would have been it for me. With the X-files, the FBI, all of it. I couldn’t save my sister, and if I had lost you, the chase just wouldn’t be worth it anymore.”

And so they’ve found themselves sharing a very sincere moment in the middle of a motel parking lot.

“That’s not true, Mulder,” Scully tells him, her voice grating. “You would have been more determined to find the truth.”

He shakes his head. “I would have imploded. Collapsed in on myself. You’re the only thing keeping me in check, and the fact is, we wouldn’t have made it this far in our search if it weren’t for you.”

Scully isn’t sure how to respond. She’s adamant that he would have continued on without her, that he would go far and wide to find answers, and that he would get justice for Samantha and her if they had both fallen victim to the conspiracy. She’s also aware that this is not what he wants to hear at the moment, and seeing as he’s being so complimentary, it would be smarter just to let it go.

“Okay, Mulder. I believe you.” How often did he get to hear that, out of her mouth no less?

“Thank you,” he says, as if she’d just agreed that he would become king of the world, not that he would inevitably fall apart without her. This time, he leads the march toward the motel entrance. Scully follows in-step with him.

They’re heading up the entrance ramp when Mulder stops short yet again. Scully’s forehead bangs against his back.

“Ow!” he jests, letting out a laugh as she turns to her. “You okay?”

Scully’s face has turned as red as her hair, but other than that, she’s fine. She nods.

“I was going to ask if you ever heard what happened to Duane Barry.”

At the sound of that name, the color flushes itself right out of Scully’s face.

“Just that he died in custody.” Her voice is clipped.

“Oh.” Mulder scratches his chin, wishing that he hadn’t brought this up. Of course, this is Scully we’re talking about, and she’s not going to let him off easy.

“Why?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

An elderly couple scrambles up the ramp and walks around them, a bell ringing when they open the door. Mulder waits for it to shut before continuing.

“Well, um, he did die in custody. He stopped breathing shortly after I...uh, I squeezed his windpipe.”

Scully’s mouth drops open. “Mulder, you killed him?!” she hisses.

He moves closer, pulls her farther from the doorway. “That’s a good example of what I mean by collapsing in on myself,” he whispers calmly.

This is so frank that Scully almost laughs. She stares up at him in (relieved) disbelief. “How did you--”

“I don’t know, and I’m not gonna question it.”

Scully nods. “That’s probably for the best.” Their eyes meet, a shared acknowledgement of what they have been through together, because of each other, and for each other. The reality of it is at once tragic and downright comical. Mulder laughs, and then Scully does too.

“You may have gotten more than you bargained for when you walked into that basement office,” Mulder quips.

“Oh yes,” Scully confirms, her voice light and fluttery. “Oh yes.”

They make their way into the motel at last, ready for whatever the case has to offer. They may solve it, or not. Regardless, it is their line of work, and they will do it together.

~~thank you for reading!!

#as i'll prob say every time #this got longer than i intended #missy & scully fic #only the light fic #the x-files #the x files #fan fiction #fan fic #x files #txf #msr #fox mulder #dana scully #mine

58 notes · View notes

softboywriting · 5 years ago

Text

Christmas Together | Shawn Mendes

Summary: When you and Shawn head home for Christmas, you end up stuck in a snowstorm in a small town in the middle of the united states. With all flights grounded until further notice, the two of you will have to spend Christmas together at a bed and breakfast. This blizzard may just be the push that brings the two of you together with the help of a little Christmas magic. [fluff] [Christmas themed] [personal assistant to lovers au] [non au shawn]

Word Count: 6k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Traveling with Shawn for the holidays is never easy. He is possibly the busiest man you've ever worked for but you don’t mind because being with Shawn is just like being with someone you love, because, well, you do love him. Thanksgiving came and went, yours in the states not his, you don't go home for that holiday anyways. It's not a big deal for your family back home. Christmas is though and traveling three days before Christmas is a nightmare.

Things were going smoothly, you had a plan to get home before christmas. Things were going perfectly until the last minute. You had somehow gotten two tickets on a fully booked flight from Brazil to Canada. The plan is for you to fly straight to the Toronto airport, no layovers and from there you'll catch a cab home to New York. You're about an hour into the flight and you can feel some turbulence coming on. No big deal. Until the pilot announced an emergency landing somewhere in Iowa.

"Oh no...no no shit." You look out the window and see nothing but clouds. No doubt about it, you’ve flown directly into a storm system.

"What? It's fine, we're just going to be a little delayed." Shawn rubs your shoulder. "It's no big deal."

"No, it is." You lean your head back against the headrest. "My sister is having a baby today and I promised I'd be there. My whole family is going to be there for Christmas. She's the first of us to have a kid."

"Oh. You didn't tell me that."

You look over and Shawn looks concerned. He always has such a big heart for everyone, it’s one of the many reasons why you love him so much. "I didn't think you needed to know. It's not work related."

"Well yeah but I still care about you. I know I'm your job but like, I'm still a person who cares about you."

"I know...I know I usually tell you everything it's just been...I've been-"

Shawn lays his hand on yours and you look down at it, heart racing. "I've been difficult lately. I know and I'm sorry. Traveling and shows have been hectic the last few weeks. It's totally my fault you’re overwhelmed."

"No, Shawn it's fine. My job is to take care of all that stuff. I'm not- I shouldn't complain about it."

"So what's stressing you out if it's not me?"

"Everything about the christmas season. My sister having a kid, obviously but...mostly it’s that christmas sucks when you're single okay?"

Shawn's eyebrows shoot up. "Why?"

"Because every year I go home and my siblings all have their girlfriends and boyfriends or fiance's and shit and I'm the odd one out. Every year I become the center of attention at dinner, the butt of the joke during gift opening. It's just a pain in the ass being branded as the forever alone child in the family."

"Why is your family so mean?"

"They aren't. They don't mean their comments venmously, it's just little things that bug me. Little indirect jabs that remind everyone I'm single and I have been for a long time."

"Why are you single?"

You give him a blank stare. He couldn't be serious. He doesn't understand that he's the reason you can't be in a relationship? That your job of tailing him everywhere and managing his schedule and life is just as stressful on a relationship with someone for you as it is for him. "Shawn, I'm constantly traveling. When am I supposed to date? When am I supposed to meet someone?"

"Fuck." He groans and scrubs a hand over his face. "You're in the same boat as me. I didn’t even think of it like that."

"Yeah except I can't fly somewhere every time I have a few days off to see someone and make an attempt at one."

He shakes his head. "I've doomed you to be single. I'm putting you through the same stress I put myself through and it's not fair."

"It's not. But it's my job, and you have yours."

Shawn grabs your arm as the plan drops and shakes. "I'll make it up to you, I swear." His voice falters as the plane jerks violently.

You squeeze your eyes shut and he threads his fingers between yours, palm a little sweaty. "I don't see how but okay."

"If we make it through this I will do everything I can to get you a date."

"You're crazy Mendes."

"Yeah but you already knew that."

_____________________

The plane lands in one piece despite feeling like it was going to tear in half at any moment. As soon as you get to the airline club lounge you find out the flight is not just delayed but all flights are grounded for the next forty eight hours at least. Two days. You are definitely going to miss your sister's baby and you're possibly going to miss Christmas. As much as you don't want to deal with your family for the holiday, you're still going to miss them and you’re upset you might not be there.

"What're we going to do?" You ask as you slump into a chair beside Shawn. He looks over from his phone and you raise your eyebrows. "What are you doing?"

"I got a place to stay until we can get another flight."

"What? How? That's my job."

He chuckles and pockets his phone. "I can book a place. I know how to use the internet."

"Well yeah but- how? There was a hotel with rooms free this close to Christmas and during a storm?"

"Kind of. Every hotel I looked at was full but there is a bed and breakfast about half an hour from the airport that had a room."

You stand up and grab your bag and suitcase. "I'll call a car or taxi or something for us and-"

Shawn lays his hand on your shoulder. "I did that too. I got an Uber."

"Oh."

"You do absolutely everything for me. I figured I could return the favor since right now is really stressful for you."

"But it's my job...it's not a favor."

Shawn shakes his head and grabs his bags. "Come on, you need to relax. I read that this b'nb is super nice and the rooms have huge tubs. I know you like baths."

"What? How do you know that?"

"You travel with mini bath bombs in your shower bag and you always seek out the hot tub when we book a really nice hotel on tour." Shawn looks back and you jog to catch up to him. "I guess I’m a little observant?"

"What else have you observed?" You ask nervously, hoping he hasn’t caught on to the fact you have very real feelings for him. You’ve done your best to hide them for a long time.

Shawn holds open the door to the pick up lanes for you as you step out into the icy wind blowing snow everywhere. "Your favorite color is red."

"Why's that?"

"You rarely wear it but when you do, you are always more confident and you seem more comfortable. You always pick red when given a choice of things and your eyes always light up whenever I wear my red button down, so I know you must like the color at least."

"Maybe that's because it looks so good on you."

He smirks. "Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm."

"Good to know." Shawn steps out into the snow and approaches a black car. "Come on, this is our ride."

_____________________

The bed and breakfast looks like a winter wonderland. It's decked out in decorated trees, wreaths, lights, the whole nine yards when the Uber driver pulls up. It has a little sign in the front that says Dover Inn. How Shawn found this place you have no idea. A short walk up to the front and you and Shawn are pushing your way through a heavy door into a small foyer that's been converted into a check in area.

"Hello!" An older woman with long dark hair says as she comes out of a back area. Her name tag says Judy. "Do you have reservations?"

"Yes, Mendes. We booked online." Shawn shakes snow off his hat by the door. "The first name is Peter."

"Ah, yes, here you are." Judy says, squinting at her laptop on the old wood countertop. "Let me go see that the room is ready. I'll be right back."

"Peter?" You ask, dusting your coat off. "Why'd you use your middle name?"

"I didn't want to draw attention to myself. You know how fans are, they always somehow find out where I'm staying."

"True. Smart, actually. But we're in the middle of nowhere Iowa in a town of probably a few thousand people during a snowstorm. I'm pretty sure that no fans are going to bum rush you out here."

"I wasn't taking the risk." Shawn pulls his hat back on and you shake your head at him.

"Mr. Mendes?" Judy says from the stairs behind the check in desk.

"Yes?"

"You booked a double room correct?"

"Yes."

The woman walks forward to the desk and types something into her laptop, chewing on her lower lip. "There is an error with room numbers on the site, the room you booked is a single room suite with a queen bed. We can refund you if you like. I'm so sorry."

"No," you lay your hand on Shawn's arm before he can say anything. "It's fine. We will take it."

Shawn gives you a look, silently asking if you're sure.

"You're sure?" The host asks, looking between you and Shawn. "I can at least give you a discount for the mistake."

"That will be fine, thank you." Shawn says softly and the host grabs your room keys.

On the way up the stairs you notice how beautiful this place really is. It's old, a historic building if you were to guess. A large manor like house of sorts at some time, but now converted to a bed and breakfast. Everything is decked out in Christmas, literally everything. Judy leads you to your room at the end of the hall and opens the door.

"We have pillows and blankets in the closet. There are heated blankets available on request. Breakfast is served at eight until nine every morning. If you need anything you can call the front desk by dialing star five five. Feel free to explore the inn, we have a large living room and the kitchen open to guests after ten in the morning. Can I get you anything right now?"

"No, thank you." You smile as you look around the gorgeous room. It's huge and spacious. There is a fireplace in the center of the far wall, lounge chairs flanking it with a small tree decorated in the corner. A large queen-size bed with a huge bed frame and two dark wood dressers sit against the opposite wall. There is a door on the left of the entrance for the bathroom and the right for the closet. It's incredible.

Shawn drops his bag on the floor by the closet and pushes his suitcase and guitar case up against it. "You're fine with sharing a bed?"

"Yeah? Should I not be?"

"Well I mean isn’t it a little...intimate?"

You laugh. "Shawn, I've been your assistant for almost two years now. I'm pretty sure that I can survive sharing a bed for two nights with you. It's just like sharing your bed with your best friend when they sleep over." You drop your own bag by the closet. "Don't worry about it." You say this, but honestly you’re not sure how you’re going to fare. Being close to Shawn is one thing, but sharing a bed is a special kind of intimate, whether sexual or not, you worry about how you’ll be able to keep your cool.

Shawn takes off his coat and flops down on the bed. "I'm sorry you're missing your sister's baby."

You hang your own coat and flop down beside him. "There's nothing that can be done now."

"What if we can't get home for Christmas?"

You look over and he turns his head to look at you. "We have each other?"

"Yeah, we do." Shawn smiles softly. "I'm glad I'm stuck here with you."

"I'm glad it's you too."

____________________

Sleeping with Shawn is better than you expected. To start, you thought he would be a bed hog like he is on the tour bus, sprawled out all over his bed at the back of the bus, but he isn't. The two of you put on pajamas and crawled in on your respective sides. It was a little awkward at first, both of you unsure if it was okay to move or curl up or anything really. You decided to break that barrier though, push the button and make a move because the tension was absolutely eating you alive.

You scoot over from the very edge of the bed where you are laying uncomfortably still. You turn on your side and face Shawn who looks uncomfortable as hell too. "Hey, you look like you're petrified."

"I don't know what to do."

"How do you usually sleep with other people in your bed?"

Shawn rolls onto his side and props his head up on his hand. "Well, usually I spoon them because it's someone I'm very interested in and have usually just been intimate with. Other than that I usually sleep alone."

"Uh huh. So is it the lack of intimacy before hand that's stopping you?"

His cheeks turn dark pink in the soft glow of the white lights on the tree in the corner. "I-I don't know. Maybe?"

"If you need to spoon me so you can sleep, you can. I don't mind." You lay on your back and roll so your back is to him. You pat your side, inviting him to cuddle up. It’s the worst idea you’ve ever had and your heart is threatening to burst out of your chest at the sheer thought of Shawn being pressed against you. But how else will you ever get to experience a Shawn cuddle? You would rather know and live with that knowledge for the rest of your life while you pine in silence until you find someone to settle down with, than never know and always wonder just what you may have missed. "I trust you Shawn."

The bed shifts and you can feel the heat from his body as he scoots closer, but not quite touching. "You don't think it's weird?"

"We've been in much more intimate situations I’m sure. I've seen you naked a few dozen times. This isn't a big deal. I sleep better with someone close and you do too it seems. Just cuddle me and stop being so nervous about it."

Shawn's hand rests tentatively on your hip. "You're sure you don’t mind?"

"Shawn. I swear, it's fine." You chew on your lip, voice surprisingly convincing despite your nerves.

Finally Shawn takes the plunge, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you back against his warm body. Instantly you melt, body completely turning to mush. It’s everything you imagined it would be and more. He’s just right, bigger than you, warmer, soft but not too soft. You let out a sigh and he presses his nose to your hair.

"You smell really good,” Shawn says quietly.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, and thank you for letting me cuddle you. I hope you don't think I'm weird."

You put your hand over his against your chest. "I always think you're weird, but not because of this."

"I miss it."

"Hmm? Miss what?"

"Being affectionate like this." He adjusts himself so he is fully pressed against the length of your body, feet covering yours between the blankets.. "It's been a long time."

You close your eyes, nervous to say what you really want to. Worried he will know you're falling for him. Well...that you’ve already fallen for him. You did that a long time ago. "I don't mind if you want to do this. I mean...like, again?"

Shawn presses his hand against your chest gently, holding you back against him as if giving you a hug. "I just might have to take you up on that offer sometime."

_____________________

Morning finds you warm and cozy. There is a fire in the fireplace when you sit up and look around the otherwise empty room. Shawn isn't there, but the smell of his body wash wafts in from the bathroom that's open but dark. You look to the clock over the fireplace and it's just after eight thirty. You check your phone and you have no signal, of course.

You stretch as you get up and go to the big windows on the far wall. It's snowing still. You doubt it has ever stopped. You grab the complimentary robe from the dresser on your side of the room and wrap up in it before heading downstairs.

In the dining area that's set up like a small restaurant would be with it's tables and chairs scattered around with families and couples sat in eating, you find Shawn alone by the fireplace sipping coffee and reading something on his phone.

"Morning," you say softly as you take a seat with your back to the fireplace. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like a baby. You?"

"Same."

Shawn puts his phone down and offers you his cup. "Coffee?"

"That's yours though?"

"Yeah but you can have some while we wait for the hostess to come by again." Shawn scoots the mug toward you. "I know you aren't sick or something."

You wrap your hands around the mug and lift it up to take a sip. Straight black coffee with a hint of sweetener. It's strong as hell and you swear you can feel it wake your senses up immediately. "This is horrible. How do you enjoy this?"

He laughs. "It's good?"

"No cream or something? It's like engine oil."

"Nuh uh." Shawn plucks his mug from your hands and takes a drink. "It's great. Oh, here comes the hostess."

You order some eggs, bacon and orange juice. Shawn asks for just some bacon and toast. You look out the window to see the snow reaching the bottom of it, drifted up from the wind no doubt. It has snowed so much you're seriously worried you may not get home for a while.

"What's wrong?"

"The snow. It keeps falling."

"Yep." Shawn turns and looks outside. "I told my parents I would be spending Christmas here. If I'm wrong, it'll be a surprise when I get home. If I'm right, they're not worried about me."

"You have signal?"

"Yeah. You don't?"

"No. Can I call my parents?"

Shawn hands you his phone and you excuse yourself to the living room where it's a little quieter. You dial your dad's cell number and lean against the wall near a tree.

"Dad? Hey it's me."

"Kiddo! Where are you? We thought you were coming home last night?"

"We had to land in Iowa. We're grounded for at least two days, but it might be longer. It's hasn't stopped snowing since last night. Did Penny have her baby?"

"Not yet. They said it could be any day now, I guess she wasn't ready."

"That's great! Well, not for Penny but I didn't miss it. Is she worried about me? Did she think I forgot?"

"No no, we figured you might have been delayed. Whose number are you calling from by the way? I didn't recognize it."

"It's Sh- the hotel's number. I'm using a landline."

"It's an out of country number? I thought you were in Iowa?"

You scrub a hand over your face and mentally kick yourself. You don't want to tell your dad it's Shawn's cell number but your lie doesn't make sense. "It's Shawn's phone. Promise me you won't give this number out."

"Shawn? You're traveling home with him?"

"Yeah, well, no."

"Honey!" You dad calls for your mom and you hear her respond in the background. "Our daughter is bringing home a guest for Christmas!"

"Dad! No! We aren't going to make it!"

"What's that dear? You're breaking up, I can barely make out your voice."

"Dad, we probably aren't going to make it for Christmas and I'm not bringing Shawn home. Dad, can you hear me?"

"You're bringing Shawn? That's okay! We'll see you soon!"

"Dad no! We aren't-" The line goes dead and you pull the phone away from your ear. The signal bars drop from three to none and you groan. Perfect...just perfect.

______________________

After breakfast you find Shawn in the living room with his guitar sitting with a little girl who has a cat piano that meows instead of playing regular piano notes. The girl is maybe five or six and you're pretty sure her grandma is the woman sitting a few feet away on her iPad. You lean against the archway that leads to the dining area and smile as Shawn let's the girl pluck a few strings on the guitar.

"You like music huh? What's your favorite?"

"I like the music from Frozen and Moana." The girl says and presses a key on her piano that makes a deep cat meowing sound. "I like Moana the best."

"Me too." Shawn smiles, playing a few chords. "I know the song How Far I’ll Go pretty well."

You shake your head as he smiles to himself. Of course he knows the song, it's one of Alessia's. Shawn looks up and sees you. He says something to the girl really quick and gets up, leaving his guitar on the floor.

"Hey, did you get to call your parents back after it dropped?"

"No, the signal keeps fading. I sent a few texts, hopefully they'll get them."

"Ah. Well...did you know you're standing under the mistletoe?"

"Huh?" You look up and sure enough there is a little sprig of green with holly berries attached to the archway. "No, I think you're under the mistletoe."

"No, it's definitely you and you know what that means."

"You're gonna kiss me?"

"Yep." Shawn leans in and kisses your cheek gently as you back up. "You're free to go now."

You roll your eyes and giggle as he steps forward and leans against the archway. "Oh no, looks like you're definitely under it now."

"Ah crap."

You stand on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek. "Looks like I was right all along."

Shawn laughs and turns away to go back into the living room. "I'll get you back for that, you lured me in."

"Uh huh. Sure you will." You head upstairs to find a movie on tv to kill time. May as well get used to it. You're going to be here a while longer.

_____________________

A little after noon Shawn finds you in the room curled up on the bed watching TV. You just got a text back from your dad saying that Penny had her baby. A boy named Lucas, eight pounds. You couldn't help but cry, disappointed you weren't there but happy that Penny had her baby okay. It sucks.

"What's wrong?" Shawn asks, sitting beside you on the bed. "Your eyes are red like you were upset."

"Penny had her baby."

"Oh! That's great, is she okay? Is the baby okay?"

You nod. "I'm just sad I couldn't be there for her. She's the first of my siblings and I to have a kid and I guess...I guess I sort of live vicariously through her."

"Oh."

"It's fine." You wipe your eyes. "Everyone is healthy. I'll get to meet the baby a little later. It's alright."

Shawn opens his arms and motions for you to come to him. You do, leaning forward until you're crawling into his arms. He holds you tight, rubbing up and down your back with his big soft hands. "Its okay to be upset. I understand if you're emotional about missing something clearly important to you."

You rub your nose on his shoulder. "Thank you. I'm sorry I'm crying so much."

"No, shh, you don't have to be sorry."

"But-"

Shawn squeezes you. "No buts, let it all out. You're always there for me on my bad days, I'm gonna be here for you."

_____________________

"Can I take you to dinner?"

You look up from your laptop. The inn has WiFi but it's not the best. You've just been updating schedules and trying to get any flight out of Iowa. So far everything is still grounded until the storms blow over. "Dinner?"

"Yeah. I was talking with some people in the living room earlier and they said that there is a place not too far from here that serves dinner through Christmas Eve. I thought maybe it'd get your mind off of everything."

"Sure." You close your laptop and get up to put on your coat. "Are we walking?"

"Yes. Wear your boots."

"Mmm and what are you going to wear?" You glance at his well loved chelsea boots in the corner. They're the only shoes he has with him aside from some tennis shoes made of breathable mesh.

Shawn grabs his boots and looks down at his feet, wiggling his toes in his socks. "I'll wear extra socks?"

"Mmhmm." You sit down and pull on your black leather boots that are possibly the best shoes you own. "Y'know you're a millionaire right? You can afford new boots just like those that aren't worn thin."

"I know. But these are comfortable, they're my boots."

"Right."

He groans as he sinks into the bed beside you to put on an extra pair of socks. "I promise I'll get new boots okay? But I won't get rid of these."

"Shawn, they're old."

"They're my favorite." He zips the side and stomps his foot down to adjust to the extra socks bulk. "Don't judge me."

"Alright, alright," you giggle. "I'll stop bullying you into getting new shoes. If they make you happy, that's what matters."

"They do." Shawn gets up and grabs his coat, tossing you his sweater he wore yesterday. "You might want that."

"I have a sweater?"

"The thin one that you wore yesterday? That's hardly a sweater."

"I didn't plan on being trapped in a snowglobe after leaving Brazil, a very non sweater climate. So sorry I didn't pack for a blizzard."

Shawn narrows his eyes and you narrow yours back. "I'm not going to take a human popsicle to dinner."

"Oh whatever." You snatch his sweater off the bed laughing as you pull it on. It's a little big and it smells like cinnamon and his cologne. So basically, Shawn. You used to wonder why he smelled like cinnamon, then you found out one of his primary vitamin supplements has cinnamon in it. It's supposed to help with metabolism or something. All you know is it makes him smell slightly spicy when he gets warm.

The walk to the restaurant is fairly short. It's just two blocks up from the inn. The snow is a pain to walk through and it's easier to walk in the street than it is to try and use the sidewalk. There are absolutely no cars out and about so you're pretty safe. There are a few other people in the restaurant when you step in, grateful to get out of the cold wind. You're glad you wore Shawn's sweater.

"So, if we are stuck here for Christmas, what do you want to do?" Shawn asks as soon as you're seated by the waitress.

"We're going to find a way home."

"I know you're trying but-"

You shake your head. "No, I'm going to find a way home. I missed Penny's baby. I'm not missing Christmas."

Shawn sighs softly. "Alright. We're going to find a way home. I'll get you home one way or another."

"We'll get us both home."

"Right. Enough about that though, we're supposed to be enjoying dinner and not thinking about all that." Shawn says, lifting his menu. "Look, they have a Christmas dinner option. Ham, potatoes and all the fixings. Sounds good."

You nod and try to focus on the menu. It's hard. You can't help but feel nervous as the day comes to a close. One day until Christmas. At least you're not alone.

_____________________

Just after two in the morning you wake up to a severe weather alert on your phone. The signal must have connected enough for you to get one. Shawn's phone goes off too, loudly buzzing on his dresser.

"What's going on?" Shawn asks sleepily, arm falling to your waist as you sit up.

"It's a severe weather alert." You read the message on your phone. "Blizzard warning. High winds may cause power outages across the state. Below freezing temperatures are in effect, be advised if going outdoors."

"Shit." Shawn mumbles.

"Shit is right. We're not leaving this place."

He pushes you back down and you curl up facing the windows away from him. "We'll be alright."

"This sucks."

"Mmm. I promise I'll make it up to you. It's my fault we're out here because I didn't want to leave Brazil until the last minute. I ruined Christmas." He sighs.

"Shawn, stop. You didn't ruin anything."

He cuddles you against him and presses his nose into your hair. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything."

"I still feel guilty."

You grab his hand and he threads his fingers between yours. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, but I'm not very awake."

"Do you think we were meant to be here, together for Christmas?"

"Hmm?"

"Like...never mind."

Shawn yawns and doesn't press the subject. He relaxes into you, his weight comfortable against your back. You close your eyes, really enjoying this moment despite the impending knowledge of being stuck here for the holiday. You and Shawn fit together perfectly, maybe a little too perfectly.

_____________________

Shawn is gone again when you wake up in the morning. It's after eight and you know you should get up and go get breakfast, but you aren't hungry. It's Christmas Eve. You don't want to get up.

The bedroom door opens and Shawn walks in, bundled up and carrying a bag full of wrapped gifts. "Good morning."

"Morning. What's that?" You point to the gifts and Shawn grins sheepishly.

"Presents."

"For?"

"You?"

You raise your eyebrows. "Why do you have presents for me?"

Shawn sets the bag down by the tree and unwraps his scarf from around his face. "Everyone deserves gifts on Christmas day. And since we're going to be stuck here, I figured we should make our own Christmas."

"You're not sad you can't get home?"

"I was, but I talked to my dad this morning. He said that Christmas is what you make it, whether that be with family, friends or your pets. He said that they will miss me, but he doesn't want me to fret over it. We can do Christmas whenever I get home." Shawn hangs his coat and kicks off his boots. "I'm lucky, because I have you and I'm not alone."

"I guess you're right. We are together in the same boat."

"Yep. So let's make the best of it."

"I suppose I should get up and go shop for you now huh?"

"You could. But let's have some breakfast first." Shawn holds his hand out for you. "Come on, there is cinnamon roll pancakes with your name on them."

"There is?"

"Mmm. I talked to the kitchen staff this morning. They said they would make them special since we're some of the few guests left at the inn." Shawn bites his lip. "I know they're your favorite."

"You're sweet." You curl your fingers around his hand and he lifts you up out of bed. "Too sweet."

Shawn hugs you tight. "You deserve it."

_____________________

Breakfast is amazing. The kitchen crew out did themselves with the cinnamon pancakes with sweet icing for you. Shawn ordered just eggs and bacon but they're also super good. Even the coffee is better than before.

Shawn reaches out and swipes some icing off your lip with his thumb. "Do you like me?"

"What? Of course." Your heart sinks, stomach churning. You know he doesn’t mean in a general way. "Why?"

"I mean, as more than your friend or job...whatever. I've just been thinking. The last few days have been some of the best I've had and-" He looks away, flushed. "And you and I have been kind of flirting a lot? Unless I've been reading this completely wrong."

"You like me?"

"Of course I like you." He looks back and fidgets with his fork. "You and I have had a vibe since you joined the team. I think I've been too nervous to admit it before now. I was too scared to shoot my shot."

You grab Shawn's hand and make him stop tapping his fork on the table. "Calm down. I like you a lot. A whole lot."

"Yeah?" He grins, chewing on his lip.

"Yes."

"Good, because I don't want to stop sharing a bed with you any time soon. You’ve spoiled me the last few days. I don't think I've slept this well since before the tour started." He chuckles to himself. "Remember when I promised you on the plane that as soon as we landed I'd find you a date?"

You giggle and he lines his hand up with yours on the table, palms together, his fingers curling over the top of yours slightly. "Yes?"

"Do you want to go out with me tonight?"

"But there is a blizzard warning."

Shawn looks around the dining room. "We can stay here, I can get hot cocoa and cookies from the kitchen. We can watch a movie or something." His fingers slot between yours and you squeeze his hand. "We can stay up until midnight like kids on Christmas."

"Alright." You smile softly and he looks back just as soft. "Let's do it."

_____________________

At midnight you and Shawn exchange gifts, not all of them, just one each. You had gone out and shopped at a small store in town that had all sorts of things for the holidays. You picked out a few things for Shawn, just little memorable trinkets. One is a keychain so you never forget this holiday and it says first Christmas, Iowa. It's cheesy but you don't care. The next gift you grabbed was a paracord bracelet the store had by the registers. It's black with a red stripe down the middle. You couldn't pass it up. Shawn loves his accessories and especially if they mean something or are a gift.

Shawn hands you a small box wrapped in brown paper first. "Merry Christmas."

You turn it over and give him a look. "What is this?"

"Open it and see."

You tear off the brown paper and open up the box. Inside is a little sparkly rose charm on a gold chain. "This is so cute." You lift it out and it is so ornate and delicate. "Where did you get this?"

"It's a secret." He smirks.

"Mmhmm. You did not buy this here.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“Oh yeah? I have access to your bank account remember? I swore I wouldn’t use it for ill intent but...and you told me you’d never lie to me when we first met.”

“Fine, I did promise you that. I got it before we left Brazil. I was going to give it to you at the airport.”

“Thank you.” You curl your hand around it and smile. “Your turn." You hand him a tiny bag with the bracelet in it.

Shawn opens it and slips it on. "I love it."

"I thought you might. I didn’t get you something cool in Brazil....and I know it's not much but-"

Shawn leans forward and kisses you, hand resting against your neck. Your eyes go wide and he pulls back.

"W-what was that about?"

"Look up."

You tilt your head back and see there is mistletoe hanging over the area in front of the fireplace where you're sat with Shawn. It was definitely not there earlier. "When did that happen?"

"I told you I'd get you back." He smirks and it dawns on you. The other day in the living room, the mistletoe.

"You put that there." You laugh and he cups your cheek. "You...you put that there?"

"I did." He leans in and you take a deep breath. "And I did it because I needed some Christmas magic to give me the courage to do this." He presses his lips to yours once more and you slide your hand into his hair.

"Merry Christmas Shawn."

"Merry Christmas."

End

______________________

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed this and reblog to support and encourage myself and fellow writers. - A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes story #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fics #shawn mendes concepts #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes non au

902 notes · View notes