#occasionally id just stare at it and think. what if i buy it and just drink it all myself in one night. in a silky purple robe | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bowiebond · 2 years ago

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Two Rules, Boy

A Jonathan x Neil oneshot ☠️

CW: Neil. Neil is a fucking warning. Consensual turned dub/noncon, underage Jonathan (17), daddy issues, spanking, virgin bottom Jonathan, forced cum eating, blowjobs, gagging, little to no prep, painful sex, crying, blood, violence, degradation, implied incest & SA, Past Child Abuse, infidelity (Jancy), slurs

Set post Billy’s death, pre Byers move

It was a chance meeting. It could have been anyone for either of them. Maybe that’s just how fate is. A cruel prankster who thinks they’re just so funny.

“You look a little young for this place.” Jonathan flinched from where he had been staring at his drink. It tasted awful, and he couldn’t bring himself to finish it despite buying it. It smelt like the cheap shit his dad used to down like water.

He was dressed casually. Deep blue and black flannel with specks of white from the plaid design, tucked into dark jeans secured with a belt. Jonathan mistook him for any other small town guy. A well groomed trucker maybe since he had hands that weren’t blackened with grease.

“I’m old enough.” Jonathan spared a small smile, gesturing to his drink as if that would sell his lie. He had eye bags that could put a thirty year old nightshift worker to shame. That was his ID into these places.

He sipped the drink and tried not to grimace at the burn in the back of his throat, the taste that killed any feeling in his tongue for a few seconds.

“Still. You look young. You shouldn’t be in a place like this.”

Jonathan knew that. It was a hotspot for gay guys, the occasional lesbian. It was the only one near Hawkins and Jonathan shouldn’t be here. Mostly because he had a girlfriend but he’s been considering breaking up with her ever since his mom announced the move to California. He didn’t know if he could do long distance. He didn’t know if he could even afford college in a years time, especially not the one Nancy wanted them to go to.

Everything was changing again and Jonathan would suffer through it without complaint like he did when they left Lonnie behind, but it didn’t mean he had to like being uprooted again when he had something good here this time. Or decent at least. California might be hell. Or better. Jonathan didn’t know and it hurt to even think about, so he stopped. He chucked his drink back and swallowed, screwing his eyes shut when they burned a little. He cleared his throat and felt a little dizzy from how quickly he downed it.

“If you know what this place is, then you shouldn’t be reprimanding me for being here.” Jonathan looked at him, his dark moustache and strong jaw, short cropped hair. Looked like the authoritarian type. Probably did time in the military from the way he stood, back straight, chin jutted ever so slightly. He didn’t look relaxed at all, and Jonathan couldn’t tell if that was just him or something else.

He offered him a tight smile.

“You shouldn’t be disrespectful to your elders. Your father didn’t teach you manners, boy?”

“My names Jonathan. And no. My dad was a useless drunk.” He was more than that, worse when he delved into the details, but he wasn’t going to spill his sob story to this man. In this kind of place, you had two goals. Get shitfaced, and get laid.

“We have one thing in common.” His smile looked a little more genuine this time, if a bit resentful, lips closed, stretched thin. He took a sip of his whiskey.

“Your dad was a drunk too?”

“Only reason I never overindulged in anything that wasn’t a red or white.”

“I’m not much of a drinker either.” Jonathan looked away to the floor, leaning an elbow on the bar. He jumped when the older man moved it off, calloused hand holding his elbow.

“Never heard the phrase, ‘elbows off the table’?”

“Does it count if it’s a bar?” Jonathan was tempted to shake him off, but it wasn’t bad. His hand was warm against his knobbly elbow. He had left his jacket in the car since it was still hot out, even in the evening it was humid.

“You really have no respect, do you?” He chuckled, shaking his head and taking another sip.

“I only respect people who earn it.”

“That’s a dangerous line to walk on, boy.”

“Not every adult deserves respect off the bat.” Jonathan said before he could think on the chance that separating himself from adulthood was not a good look, but the older man said nothing, just pursed his lips.

“You really shouldn’t come to places like this. You can’t get yourself a girlfriend?”

“Can’t screw the queer out of me, unfortunately.” He drawled sarcastically and he chuckled, seeming to be amused.

“If only. World would be a better place.” Jonathan’s stomach roiled at the way he phrased, but refrained from fight him on it. If this guy had demons to deal with, that wasn’t his business. For once, he wasn’t going to try to fix the broken thing in front of him. He’s not very good at fixing things. Only the occasional pep talk.

“What are you here for then?”

“Someone younger.” He looked out into the crowd as he said it, sipping his whiskey, and Jonathan felt a faint kick of arousal in his gut when his dark eyes caught his over the glass in the dim bar. The lanky brunet swallowed and shifted on his feet. “And you?”

“…Someone older.” He couldn’t meet his eyes when he said it, turning back to his empty glass with his elbows propped up on the bar. His back straightened when a warm hand ran up it, inhaling sharply. He smelt like aftershave and old spice as he stood behind him, close enough for his skin to buzz with anticipation but for nothing to touch.

With a small tug, he brought his elbow off the bar, his forearms resting against it instead as the older man ran his hands up his arms and squeeze his shoulders.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He murmured, a touch disapproval in his tone, and Jonathan’s ears burned.

“Sorry.” It’s quick, hushed, and the other doesn’t back away. Jonathan’s glad for it. He’s not much shorter than the older man, but the guys still bigger. Once upon a time, that made him anxious, made him scared.

Now, it made the blood rush down south. He could feel his cock filling slowly, creating a bulge in his loose jeans. He sent a silent apology to the heavens, his mother and Nancy for what he was about to do.

He licked his lips nervously and turned his head to get a glance at him.

“You never told me your name.” He needed a name, something to call him by.

The older man squeezed his shoulders once more, dropping his hands from his shoulders to his waist with a soft sigh that made Jonathan shiver.

“Neil. But you’ll call me ‘sir’.” Jonathan’s cock was fully hard now, and distracting, especially with the way it twitched at the title. Better than daddy. Jonathan had enough issues.

“Okay.” Jonathan said softly and Neil gripped his waist tighter.

“Okay, what?”

“Okay…sir.” The word was foreign on his tongue, but he spoke it softly and Neil’s grip eased.

“Good. Come with me.” Jonathan wondered how many times he had been here to know where he wanted to take him, but he followed obediently, trying awkwardly to conceal his erection from the rest of the bar.

The bathroom was stuffy, but currently empty, and Jonathan was thankful because once Neil guided him into one of the only stalls with a functioning lock, he didn’t know how well he could stifle his voice. He had never done anything public like this. He skin was alight with nerves, watching at Neil locked the door. He rolled his shoulders back, dropping them and turning around to face Jonathan.

“Your father didn’t teach you proper manners. So I’ll do it for him.” Neil took his jaw in hand, not gentle but not harsh. Jonathan flexed it beneath his fingers, gaze caught by intense dark eyes.

“I’ve never done this before.” Jonathan admitted, mouth moving before he could process it. “With a guy, I mean.” He quickly corrected.

“I’m not a ‘guy’, boy.” Neil’s grip grew tighter. “I’m a man.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled, the word slipping out without a second thought. It was like his mouth and his brain were losing connection the longer he was alone with him.

“Sorry, what?” He clenched his jaw, stern, and Jonathan stood taller in reaction to it.

“Sorry, sir.” He remedied and Neil eased his touch. It still ached, under his skin. He hadn’t felt such firm hands on him in years.

Neil’s worn hand slid forward and down, exploring the expanse of his pale throat. It clicked when Jonathan swallowed, the lightest pressure leaving him breathless.

“I have two things I pride myself in, boy.” Jonathan’s not sure if Neil even remembered his name. “Respect, and responsibility. Say it for me.”

Jonathan licked his dry lips as Neil’s hand rested upon the base of his throat, atop his collarbone.

“Respect and responsibility.”

“I’ll teach you the easy one first.” Neil touched his shoulder and applied pressure. Jonathan followed after a moment of confusion, flames igniting from the crackling wood in his belly. With one knee to the tiles, and then the other following, he was at Neil’s feet, cock beading pre inside his boxers.

Neil’s hand came up to his hair, sinking his fingers into the locks. Jonathan raised his gaze to the bulge in Neil’s dark jeans, stomach clenching as his cock throbbed.

“Taking responsibility.” He tightened his grip on his hair and raised Jonathan off his heels to bring him closer to his taunt zipper. Jonathan stared a moment, cheeks tingling before he looked up at Neil. The elder looked at him expectantly. “Go on. Get it out.”

Jonathan shifted, trying to ease the pressure of his cock as he reached up to unbuckle Neil’s belt. It felt like forever, pulling the leather free from the first loop, then pulling the clip from the hole and out the other loop. He doesn’t bother removing the belt entirely, and Neil doesn’t ask him to. He glanced up anxiously before flicking his gaze back to his task, unbuttoning the jeans with trembling fingers.

He was nervous, mostly. He hadn’t done this before. On a man, at least. Nancy liked his mouth, but then again, it was easier to make her come that way then to get wrist cramps trying to clumsily finger her. He pulled the zipper down and found his mouth beginning to water as he took in the thick cock trapped in white underwear. Neil was bigger than him. Jonathan felt that maybe, he should be miffed, but instead he was burning beneath his itchy clothing.

He tugged the waistband of the underwear and jeans lower, just enough for the cock to spring free. It was thick, brushing six inches, and hung low, off to the right. Jonathan swallowed hard, Neil’s hand running through his hair to push it back from his face. He looked up and Neil’s expression was impassive at best.

“Go on. You’re an adult, aren’t you? You must have an idea of what you do next.” Jonathan did, but he was looking for encouragement, instruction more so than taunting, yet it didn’t kill his arousal. Only heightened it. God, he must have a loose screw in his head.

He was seventeen about to blow a man who had to be about his own fathers age in a public bathroom. His mother would throw a fit.

“Hey. If I ask you a question, you answer.”

“Yes — sir.” Jonathan tacked the word on last second. “Sorry, sir.”

Jonathan placed a hand on his thigh, steading himself, and wrapped his hand around his cock. Neil let out a low, pleased hum, and it tickled up Jonathan’s spine, cheeks growing ruddy. He stroked the length, base to tip, and parted his lips to press an open mouthed kiss to the tip. Start small. Work his way through.

A kiss to the crown, a lick along the underside, a soft suckle of the slit that tasted of bitterness. He could take his time. Neil was growing impatient though, and Jonathan could feel it in the tightening of the grip in his hair. He groaned softly and reached up to ease it, but he pried his hand away.

“Your approach won’t get you anywhere, boy. Responsibility is to be taken on without hesitation.” Jonathan grimaced as Neil let go to adjust his hold on the younger’s head. He took his cock in his other hand and tapped it to Jonathan’s pink lower lip. Jonathan shyly parted his lips, apprehensive about his skills.

Neil glided onto his tongue with ease and Jonathan opened his mouth wider to accommodate his girth, eyes falling shut as he focused on the hot flesh filling his mouth. Jonathan pinched his brows when Neil kept going past his mouth, brushing his gag reflexes and making the younger flinch back. His hand was firm though and Jonathan made a sound of protest as the older man began to rock his hips.

It was fine when it was teetering on the edge of his reflexes, but his cock hit the back of his throat and he gagged, shoving Neil back just enough to cough, ducking his head even as the tip of his spit soaked cock brushed his cheek.

Neil wrenched his head back and Jonathan winced, eyes squeezed shut.

“Respect and responsibility. It’s not hard to take responsibility, boy.” He spoke sternly, and Jonathan’s whole body burned.

“I haven’t- done this before.” He reiterated, tears in the corner of his eyes from the gag. “Sir.”

“I’m teaching you. If you wanna be a cocksucker, then you can stand to do it right. Be grateful.” He huffed out through his nose and Jonathan was brought back to his cock, the length rubbing against his cheek. A small bloom of self loathing unfurled in his chest, that tiny feeling of failure and the need for approval making Jonathan parted his lips once more to let it into his wet, warm mouth. He gripped Neil’s unbuckled belt, squeezing the leather in both hands as he was guiding up and down his cock.

Neil fucked his mouth through the gagging this time, repetitive and nudging far enough to make his eyes water until he opened up his throat.

Neil took the chance to bury himself as deep as possible and Jonathan’s tight throat convulsed around his cock as he suppressed a gag, choking on it and the sudden lack of air. Spit was starting to spill from the corners of his lips as Jonathan’s eyes fluttered. He pulled back and Jonathan gasped for air, coughing as spit slipped down his chin.

He was better prepared for the next intrusion, Neil’s thrusts getting faster, gliding in and out of the wet hole, drool running down his bobbing throat as the older man made use of it. He could feel him throbbing on his tongue, pre coating his tastebuds as the man fucked his throat.

He pulled out suddenly, leaving Jonathan gasping and painfully hard. He should feel disgusted, being used so aggressively, but Neil’s hand was running through his hair now, smoothing it.

The older man took his jaw in hand and pulled him to his feet, Jonathan scrambling to follow. He almost tripped over his own two feet as he was pressed into the cold tile wall, moaning softly. His cock was crushed against the wall and it was the only relief he had gotten since he entered the bathroom.

Neil was against his back again, caging him there, and his breath smelt of whiskey. Not heavy, but Jonathan could sniff it out. He turned his face to the wall, Neil’s hands smoothing up and down his sides, over his scrawny frame.

“Fuck, can you—“ Neil grabbed his jaw roughly and clamped his mouth shut.

“Respect,” He hissed. “Means not swearing at your elders. Apologise.”

“‘M sorry,” He mumbled. Neil’s hand cracked against his ass and he cried out, biting his lip at the ache.

“Sorry what?” He sounded angry now, thumbs slipping into the waistband of his loose jeans. Jonathan moaned softly as they hooked into his underwear.

“Sir. Sorry, sir.” He corrected in a weak voice.

“Better.” Even though it should have been a compliment, it sounded like he was exasperated. Johnathan squirmed as his jeans fell around his ankles, underwear following. He flushed at being so exposed, the tip of his cock a deep red and leaking onto the tiles.

Neil bunched his shirt up to his neck, smoothing a hand down his back. His hand smacked against his left cheek, gripping the reddening flesh as Jonathan flinched and shied from it. Neil squeezed his ass and parted his cheeks to show off his pucker, untouched and twitching.

Neil pressed his wet cock between them and smeared the drying spit along his taint and crack, pressing the tip against the pucker hard enough to make Jonathan flinch in fear he’d really fuck him open dry. But he didn’t, just teased and taunted with his cock, reaching up to his face to stick two fingers in his mouth.

Jonathan groaned and lathered them in spit, getting the bigger picture. Neil snatched his hand back and pressed a finger into him. It was tight, the younger tense and Neil forced the finger in to the knuckle, Jonathan giving a little gasp. He clenched and squirmed.

“Feels weird.” He breathed, heat roaring in his gut as the older man spat on his ass, the dribble sliding down his crack and being used to keep him wet as he eased a second finger in. It was too soon, too quick, and he groaned, forced to take in as the man grabbed his hip, stilling him.

“I’m going to fuck you, boy.” Neil murmured in his ear, twisting his fingers deep inside him and Jonathan moaned. “I’m going go fuck you, so what do you say?”

“Th—“ Neil spat once more and fucked in a third finger, Jonathan’s face pinching as he spread his legs further. “Thank you- thank you, s-sir.” His mouth felt dry as the three digits stretched his ass out, a gasp slipping out when they brushed his sweet spot. It was like electricity, zapping through him, his deflating cock sparking back to life. “Fuck, please, please, right there, sir—!”

Neil cracked his palm against his ass, his ring splitting the skin, and Jonathan’s voice broke around his cry, flesh stinging hot and red as Neil continued to open him up.

“That fucking hurt, shit, don’t-“ He pulled his fingers out and hit him again on the other cheek, the spit swiped along the red handprint. Jonathan trembled. He had been shoved, smacked around, punched, but he had never been spanked before. Like a child. It was humiliating.

His watery eyes threatened to spill over as he bit his quivering lower lip.

“I told you not to swear at me, boy.” Jonathan’s stomach twisted with dread. He hadn’t meant to. God, he hadn’t meant to. Lonnie would have washed his mouth out with hot sauce and then soap if he was caught swearing in his vicinity, or at all. His mother was laxer on the rule.

“M sorry. I’m sorry, dad - sir.” His mind was scattered right now, and his tongue was loose. He quickly corrected himself but waited for the comment, the disgust, and honestly, Jonathan was disgusted in himself for even thinking about his father with his pants around his ankles.

Neil sighed.

“You need discipline, boy. A whole lot of it.” He tutted and pressed Jonathan into the wall. The brunet shivered, teary eyes widening when he felt the tip of his cock against his hole.

“W-wait,” Jonathan needed a moment, needed more preparation, Neil was thick and long and Jonathan was pretty sure he’d die if the older man fucked him right now.

Neil didn’t stop though, forcing his length inch by inch into the tight hole squeezing his cock in a death grip. Jonathan sobbed at the splitting ache that tore through his rim, his ass, Neil’s cock rocking deeper and deeper despite his babbled protests. His cock wilted at the pain, his cheeks blotchy and red as tears stained them. It hurt. It hurt so much, Jonathan wanted to puke.

“Hurts, please, stop, stop, sir, please.” He begged, whimpering when the man bottomed out, his cock sitting heavy and hard inside his ass. If he wasn’t sniffling and hiccuping at the burn, he might have moaned at how good it felt to be full. And it did, but everything else made his skin hot, eyes burn and throat tight.

“Of course it hurts. It’s your first time.” He said it like he didn’t just push into his spit prepped ass, like he had been gentle and nurturing even though Jonathan knew he hadn’t been. Yet his hiccups eased slowly, Neil’s hand coming around to strip his cock. Jonathan moaned despite the pain, pleasure taking his focus.

“That’s it. You can take it. A faggots only good for one thing, and you’re just now getting the hang of it.” Jonathan wanted to be offended, angry, but the word hurt more than anything. Hurt like the ache in his ass, slowly dissipating yet teetering around the edges. Neil changed the angle, releasing his cock to grip his hips as he began thrusting faster.

Stars burst behind his eyes as he nailed his prostrate, fucking right into it brutally. Jonathan’s eyes rolled back with a loud moan dragged out of his throat.

“All you fags are good for is being a spare pussy when there’s none putting out.”

He wailed as Neil slammed into him, his hands barely catching himself against the wall as the older man drilled his cock into his hole, chasing his releasing more than the brunets, hands bruising as they grabbed at his hips and waist and thighs, whatever gave him the best leverage to fuck the boys no-longer-virgin ass.

Jonathan’s sobs renewed, punctured by broken moans and enticing whimpers, cock drooling as Neil grunted and groaned, echoing in the bathroom. Jonathan didn’t know if anyone was in there with them, but if they were, he wasn’t even in the right state of mind to apologise for his volume.

“Fuck,” Neil grabbed the back of his neck and Jonathan moaned, sweaty face pressed against the cool tiles. “So tight. Shoulda done this years ago.” Jonathan groaned, clenching around his cock. Neil swore and slipped his hand into hair, wrenching his head back as his hips stuttered.

“God, Billy.” Jonathan’s lips feel open in a gasp as hot cum flooded into his hole, Neil fucking it deeper as he worked himself through his orgasm. A soft moan left his lips at the warmth, Neil pulling out and tapping his messy dick against Jonathan’s ass. His legs crumpled beneath him as his leverage disappeared, whimpering.

His ass ached dully now, full of a strangers cum. A stranger who moaned a name that wasn’t even his. He didn’t even cum.

Jonathan sniffled, reaching down to strip his cock, to finish himself off so he could leave. He should have stayed in with Nancy. Fuck.

Neil spun him around and Jonathan fell on his ass, jizz leaking from his puffy, red hole. There were streaks of pink on Neil’s cock and it made Jonathan nauseous. He should have used protection, a condom.

His legs were visibly shaking as Neil knocked them apart with his boots to stand between them. There was little fight left in the boy as he pried his jaw open and fed him his soft cock.

“Clean it. You made my dick dirty, boy.” Silent tears slipped down his cheeks as he sucked the cock clean, still aching to touch himself but too scared. He was glad Neil was older, that he needed more time to go another round, or else he was sure Neil would fuck his throat until he couldn’t speak.

He pulled the cock from his lips, a thin string of spit between the head and Jonathan’s lips.

“Now clean up your mess.” Neil gestured to the small puddle of cum growing beneath him. Jonathan recoiled and shook his head. The public bathroom floor was gross enough.

“That wasn’t a request. It was an order.” Neil shoved him to the floor and grabbed him by his hair, forcing his face into the mess with a stoic expression.

“Clean. Up. Your. Mess.” He bit out and Jonathan’s lips trembled as he tried not to cry again. He opened his mouth and tentatively licked at the puddle, suppressing a gag, trying not to think about it, about the bitter taste and the piss and chemicals on the floor.

“That’s it. Finally useful.” Neil patted his back and Jonathan sniffled, closing his eyes tight as he licked up the mess and swallow every bit like he was told. Neil wiped the cum from his cheek and nose and fed it to him when he was done.

Jonathan sat there, humiliated and unsure. His entire world felt flipped on an axis.

“You look good like that.” Neil crouched down to his level and patted his cheek with a disingenuous smile. Taunting him.

Eventually, his smile fell and he sighed.

“I think I’ll leave first, yeah? I have a long drive ahead of me.” Neil stood up tall and Jonathan closed his eyes in relief. He wanted him to go already so he could cum and go. This night was a mistake.

“Just to be safe.” Jonathan looked up at his words just as a fist cracked against his face and the world went black.

When Jonathan woke again, his ass was crusted with cum and leaking, his face and hair covered in the stuff too. His clothes were bundled in the corner of the stall he had been left in.

He tried to stand but slipped back down, his whole body aching. His dick was spent, a condom filled with spunk wrapped around it. Jonathan looked down at his chest and his stomach dropped.

LOCK THE DOOR AND USE ME

IM A SLEEPY FAG WHO LIKES IT ROUGH was scrawled across his chest, between his nipples. He dragged his fingers through the mess on his stomach and stared, wide eyed.

A sob bubbled up his throat. It came out rough, hoarse.

Fate was a sick prankster. And Jonathan was it’s unlucky victim today. He never should have come to the bar.

He prayed he’d never seen Neil whatever-his-last-name-is ever again.

#jonathan byers #byergrove technically 😂#tw neil hargrove #tw corneilus hargrove #lemon #tw noncon

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get-shiggy-with-it · 4 years ago

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Ch. 2

Shigaraki Birthday Celebration! 18+ MINORS DNI

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, brief male masturbation, tags will be added for smut in the next two parts

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which studying is done, unwilling connections are made, and Tomura thinks about the way you smell a totally normal amount.

AO3 mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg (just shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged!

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen.

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library. But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him.

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering.

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant.

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

sounds good—

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating.

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right?

He wasn’t sure.

He didn’t do shit like this.

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.”

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager.

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door.

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors.

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit.

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor.

You made a fucking power point for him.

This couldn’t be real.

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…”

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in.

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga.

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations.

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts.

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him.

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen.

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled.

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for.

It was...good.

And that so fucking annoying.

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids.

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and—

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, “but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.”

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to.

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday.

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze.

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into.

“What’s your major?”

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before.

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear.

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment.

But, obviously you didn’t.

So he didn’t.

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope.

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut.

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side.

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case.

“Are you talking about The League?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings.

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger.

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought.

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone.

You should narrate those fucking sleepy time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much.

Or no, no he would definitely mind.

Yes. It would have been worse if anything.

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.”

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room.

Weird.

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence.

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at.

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit after all. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion.

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere?

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word.

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head.

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard.

It...grew on him.

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session.

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack.

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room.

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing.

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly.

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction.

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous.

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.”

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly.

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin study room whenever I want.”

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.”

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.”

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.”

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward.

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers.

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.”

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations.

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach.

But it was only because you were hot.

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background.

Yeah.

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough.

Right?

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki imagines #bnha fanfiction #college au #bee.writes

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monroeville22 · 3 years ago

Text

-“DO YOU?”-

A/N: Hello, everyone!This one is a bit angsty, and some sentences sound a little inappropriate but they’re not.I swear. Anyway, enjoy!

TW:MENTIONS OF PANIC ATTACKS/CURSING

Remus Lupin was miserable.

He had spent the last two hours watching a seventh year Ravenclaw girl flirt with Sirius.

He was indeed miserable. He was absolutely furious.

Firstly, why was this red haired girl in their common room? There were plenty other places to flirt. Secondly, wasn’t this her last year at Hogwarts? Why couldn’t she just find other things to do, like study? And lastly, why couldn’t she just let Remus have Sirius for his own?

Remus shook that thought away and stared down at his History of Magic book which was placed on his lap. He was being selfish, Sirius was his own person. Remus couldn’t just have him. Could he? It was stupid of him to even think Sirius had any liking towards him. Sirius Black was way out of his league. He was beautiful, with his long wavy black hair. His fierce grey eyes- James had insisted that they were blue but Remus knew the eyes of the boy he loved very well, thank you- with those thin eyebrows that looked like they were drawn with care and his long, curled eyelashes. And his smile, Merlin that smile. He wasn’t talking about the toothy grin he gave to the compliments he got. Or the smirk that he always wore. Remus was talking about the genuine smile Sirius had. He loved seeing those gentle, pink lips turn into a charming smile.

“Oi, Moony! I asked if you were coming to the library with me?”

Remus lifted his head only to see Sirius smiling down at him. He was wearing that bloody smirk, Remus didn’t know if he loved it or hated it. He put his parchment paper between his book and gathered his stuff. “Yeah, wait a second.” he replied. Sirius smiled and turned to the girl he was with. Remus saw Sirius mutter something in her ear as she laughed from the corner of his eye. Oh, how he wanted to tear her apart. His eyes widened at this sudden vicious thought.

“Let’s go, my dear Moony!” Sirius said as he reached for Remus’ arm. Remus glanced around the room to see if anyone saw them while blushing slightly. Sirius would occasionally call him by pet names, even flirt with him sometimes. Maybe that was the reason Remus felt what he felt towards him. He let Sirius drag him to the library by his arm. “So, is there a certain reason why you were staring daggers at Evelyn?” Sirius asked him with a weird tone. Was he teasing? Remus looked at Sirius with panic in his eyes. He opened his eyes to say something sarcastic but all he could do was choke out a laugh. “I-I wasn’t!” he freed his arm from Sirius’ grasp and started walking faster. “Remus, hold on.” Sirius quickly caught up with the other boy. “I’m not blind, Moons. Is there something wrong?” he asked, worried. Remus sighed and turned to face the black haired idiot who he had the stupidity to love. “No, Sirius. Everything’s good.” he rushed. “Now, can we please just go in?”

Sirius was not damn blind. He knew something was up. And he knew that Evelyn had caused it. Remus wouldn’t stop sighing or groaning every time the Ravenclaw giggled at something he said. He thought Remus found her annoying, although he wished that the sandy brown haired boy was jealous. He really hoped Remus was jealous. Not that he brought the girl to tease him, it was just that she was hitting on him for a year and Sirius just felt guilty. Why, he wasn’t sure.

Sirius knew he couldn’t openly flirt with Remus. He knew he couldn’t love him the way he wanted to. He knew he had to hide it, but Remus was Remus. It was hard to hide anything from the boy. He seemed to see right through him. Even though he tried his best to cover his feelings up with stupid smirks and grins, he knew Remus didn’t buy any of it. Dating other girls and flirting with them made him normal. But he didn’t want to be normal, no matter how cheesy that sounded; it was the truth.

“Remus, come on! I know you, you don’t just sigh and huff when there’s nothing going on!” Sirius yelled at him. Remus laughed and threw his books on one of the windowsills that were lining the hall. “Do you. Sirius?” Remus whispered angrily. Sirius looked taken aback by the harshness of his words. “What do you mean, of course I know you.” Sirius whispered twice as harsh. Remus shook his head and ran his hands through his bangs. They fell back right into his eyes and Sirius resisted the urge to tuck them behind Remus’ ears. It’s what he would have done if they weren’t fighting.

“Well, mister. If you know me so well why don’t you come up with an answer? Why don’t you just get it?” Remus looked at Sirius with teary eyes. He was being rude, he was aware. But he was just fed up with Sirius’ obliviousness. Sirius stared at him with a dumb expression that Remus wanted to punch off. “Moony, I,” Sirius looked at his feet. “I’m sorry.” Remus looked like he was about to burst. He was pacing back and forth in a small path. He groaned at Sirius’ words. “See?! This is your problem!” he pointed at Sirius’ chest. “You apologize all the time, not knowing why! I don’t want your empty apologies, I want you to understand!” Remus shouted at the boy. Sirius felt so small. He felt ashamed. Remus was right. He apologized for things when he didn’t really mean it.

“What should I understand? Why don’t you just talk to me!? All you do is puff and glare at the girls I speak with, you act all possessive when they’re around me, then you walk it off like it’s nothing. If I didn’t know any better I would think you’re jealous of me!” Sirius fought back. He was falling deeper and deeper. He felt tears stinging his eyes. Remus looked bloody scary, with his bloodshot eyes and his mouth in a tight pout. He threw his arms up and walked closer to Sirius. Their chests were close to touching. “See, idiot! I’m glad you know better because I am not jealous of you!” He yelled. Sirius could feel the tremors surging through Remus. He looked like he was going through a panic attack. Sirius tensed at the sight of him. “I’m not jealous of you!” “Then what the hell is your problem?!” Sirius pushed Remus with more force than he intended to.

“Them! The bloody girls!” Remus screamed. His hands were shaking as he waved them around. Remus’ outburst hit Sirius in the guts. “Those girls who can openly flirt with you. Twirl their damn hair when you say some stupid shit which is not even that funny. They look at you like you are some hero.” Remus seemed rather calmed down, he was no longer shouting but he was still shaking vigorously. He tried to move closer to Remus but he stopped himself. “They do not know you, Sirius. And still, they fall for you. They fall for your facade, your looks. And me,” Remus pointed at himself, laughing. “I’ve known you for six years. I know everything about you. I’ve studied everything about you. I know things about you that even you yourself don’t even know.” Sirius felt a shiver run down his spine. He felt the need to pinch himself.

“I loved you for who you are. I loved you before you figured out who you even were. But loving you at the same time with those girls makes me feel worthless. It makes the love I feel for you seem worthless.” Sirius slowly moved towards the other boy. As if slowing his motions would help the intimacy of the action. Remus didn’t seem to notice. “And I hate that you give that bloody smirk to everyone. I hate that you share your smile with other girls.” Sirius moved to gently touch Remus’ arm, looking at him as if he were asking for permission. Remus quickly glanced at Sirius’ hand but didn’t do anything in protest.

“Remus,” said Sirius, waiting for the boy to cut him off. Remus just let out a shaky breath and stayed quiet. “I didn’t know.” Remus laughed at his words. “I didn’t think you would,” Sirius didn’t know how to convince Remus that he felt the same. “-share my feelings, I didn’t.” Remus snapped his head to meet the black haired boy’s eyes. “You don’t mean that.” he whispered. “You feel pity” Sirius shook his head violently, “No, no. Moony I know you don’t believe me.” he stayed silent for a few seconds before Remus muttered him to keep going. “ I was scared, and I know how stupid that sounds. But I had never thought I would feel something like this towards a boy.” Remus sighed and kept looking at Sirius’ clothes. “I know.” Remus said. “I felt the need to cover it up. I thought if I became the boy every one already thought I was things would be simpler.” Sirius moved his hand to hold Remus’ slightly bigger one. Remus interlocked their fingers. “This is no excuse for all the shit I put you through, Remus. I know. But I just, wanted to tell you.” Sirius pulled slightly back, so that he would be able to look properly into Remus’ eyes. “I don’t care.” Remus said. “I don’t want any proper reason. I don’t care.” He shrugged his shoulders like a little kid.

“I just want to be with you. Hidden or open. I just want you.” Remus spoke softly. Sirius put one hand over Remus’ chest while the other gripped tight on his hand. “Well, if you’ll let me.” Sirius replied. Remus nodded his head quickly and smiled. Sirius jumped slightly to put his arms around the taller one’s neck. “You understand now.” Remus said as he hugged Sirius tightly.

“So, you still want to study or…?” Sirius asked with a teasing smile. “You know what maybe this was a bad ide- ow!” Remus shouted as Sirius pinched his sides. “Too late Lupin, this is for life.”

#hp #remus lupin #sirius black #harry potter #hp marauders #the marauders #james potter #remus x sirius #the marauders era #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar angst #the marauders fanfiction #wolfstar fandom #wolfstar fanfiction #lily evans #wolfstar #wolfstar headcanon

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pod95 · 3 years ago

Text

Pairing: Finn Balor X reader

Word Count: 2152

Warnings: Smutt (implied)

Description: A/n you and your best friend Becky Lynch are sharing a hotel room together, but when her boyfriend Seth Rollins sneaks in, you are left with no choice but to sleep in his room with the guy you hate, Finn Balor.

A/N This is part of a series of one shots I am doing. You can read this and the others on my Wattpad, AO3 and FanFiction pages.

Room Swap

"Name please," the receptionist asked as you searched through your purse for your ID.

"Y/l/n. It should be a twin room."

"Ah yes, here you are," she turned to the board behind and picked out a key card. You're in room 412."

"Thanks!" you take the key card off of her and return to Becky, who was waiting with your luggage in the lobby.

"Everything all sorted, roomie?" Becky asked, thumbing through a magazine.

"Yeah I can't wait. Ever since you got with Seth we never get to bunk together. It's gonna be like old times!"

"I just hope you're ready for a wild night of stuffing our faces with room service and bingeing bad horror movies," she winked and giggled.

"Ooft sounds like a hot date," you teased her.

"Speaking of hot..." Becky gestured to the lobby entrance where her boyfriend Seth Rollins was bringing in his luggage. He made his way over to you and beamed when he saw Becky.

"Damn, you're beautiful. Can I get your number?" he teased.

"Sorry, I have a boyfriend. He's super buff and macho and could probably kick your ass," she retorted, planting a loving kiss on his cheek. Seth wrapped his arms around her waist as you smiled at how happy you were that your friend found someone who truly loved her.

"Are you sure you wanna spend the night with y/n? I mean I love Finn but we could have a LOT of fun in a room together..." Seth cooed, kissing Beckys neck.

"Hey, Rollins! Stop making moves on my woman. You get every other night with her. Go near her, and I'll chop that dick off!" you threatened playfully.

"Fine, Jeez!" he laughed, "We really need to get you a boyfriend."

You shuddered at the words. You had been secretly seeing someone, but broke it off a couple of weeks ago and you were starting to lose hope of ever finding a decent guy.

"You know, Finn is still single..." Becky prompted.

"Ugh no way!" you retched, "not even if he was the last man on Earth."

"Finn's a great guy! I really don't get why you hate him so much..." Seth shook his head.

"Where do I start? He's cocky and narcissistic, he thinks he's God's gift to women, he's always bragging about how many girls he's been with. Yeah sure, he's hot, but he knows it. Besides, he's a jerk to me whenever we're together."

"Y/n, you haven't even given him a chance. I reckon if you spent some time alone with him, you'd see all the good parts of him!" Seth enthused.

"He wears very tight trunks in the ring, I've already seen WAY more parts of him than I'm comfortable with."

"Aww, y/n, I'm flattered you spend your free time thinking about me in tight trunks!" came an Irish accent from behind you. You groaned internally.

"I wouldn't be... You missed the part where I called you cocky and narcissistic." you jeered, smirking at Finn.

"It's not cocky if you can back it up love," he winked, and you hated yourself for finding him so attractive.

"Right, sure. Guys like you are all talk."

"Oh one night alone with me, and you'd never want to leave," he went to brush a hair from your face, giggling mischievously as you swatted it away. "I could prove it to you tonight if you want."

"Oh my god, why are all the men in my life trying to ruin our night together? Go find some other woman to disappoint, Balor! She's mine tonight," Becky scolded him. "Y/n, we should go to our room before these Jackasses get in the way."

Becky stood up, kissed Seth affectionately and grabbed her luggage. You followed her leave, grabbing your things and saying goodbye to Seth.

"What no goodbye kiss for me?" Finn hollered is you set off towards the elevator, cackling at the middle finger you were now responding with.

When you got to the room, Becky kicked her shoes off and dove onto a bed. You changed into a tank top and some leggings as she looked through the room service menu.

"I'm gonna get some lobster. What do you want?"

"Ooh very fancy. I'll have the same."

You spent the evening pigging out on fancy room service and making fun of terrible movies before eventually feeling too tired to stay awake and nodding off halfway through the second movie.

Just as you'd fallen asleep, you were awoken by a noise. You weren't sure what it was at first, it sounded kind of wet. Then you heard a soft moan coming from the bed next to you and you looked over to see a huge lump under the covers of Beckys bed. Groaning, you turned your bedside lamp on.

"Really guys? I'm trying to sleep here..." you protested.

"Oh shit, sorry y/n. I'll just go." a naked Seth peeked out from under the covers, his hair messy and his voice breathless.

"No, it's fine just... Give me your key card. I'll sleep in your room."

"Really? Sure, it's in my pants. Thanks y/n, you're the best." Seth said, before retreating back under the covers, much to the delight of a giggling Becky.

You hastily retrieved the key card (room 426) from his discarded pants and made your escape.

As you stormed down the hall to where Seth and Finn were staying, you muttered under your breath. You knew that Becky and Seth were a couple, but do they have no boundaries? You arrived at room 426 and knocked on the door. Despite having the key, you didn't want to just barge into the room unannounced.

A shirtless Finn opened the door. He blinked in surprise upon seeing you, before smiling cockily.

"I see you decided to take me up on my offer earlier," he purred, leaning coolly against the doorframe.

"No chance in hell. Seth and Becky are 'getting busy', and as close as we are, I REALLY don't wanna see her O face so... Seth said I could crash here. Sorry to disappoint you," you shoved past, struggling to keep your eyes off of his impressive torso.

"Alright but I should warn you... I sleep naked," Finn beamed at you, amused by the look of horror that crossed your face.

"Whatever just... You stay in your bed, I'll stay in mine and we should get through the night without me beating you to death!" you smiled sweetly back at him.

"Oh come on. I'm just messing with you," he chuckled, grabbing a towel from the wardrobe. "I'm gonna take a shower, TV remote is there. Make yourself at home."

Finn disappeared into the bathroom and shortly after, you heard the gushing of the shower. For a moment, you imagined the water cascading down Finn's abs and trickling down his body. Disgusted with yourself for imagining such things, you shook the thought from your mind and turned on the TV.

Eventually, Finn emerged from the shower, and you were surprised to see him wearing a pair of shorts and a vest. You stared at him for a moment, still confused.

"Is there a problem?" he asks, snapping you out of your stupor.

"No! Not at all... You're just such a playboy, I'm surprised you're wearing actual clothes and not a towel that's far too small for you," you challenged him, secretly disappointed by the reality.

"Contrary to what you might think about me, I'm not a sex pest. I may be cocky and full of myself, but I'm not gonna go out of my way to make you uncomfortable." annoyed, Finn collapsed into his bed, refusing to make eye contact with you.

"Finn... I'm sorry. I'm being a jerk. Honestly, thanks for letting me stay here. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"Well... You can buy me pizza. I like pepperoni and stuffed crust please!" He grinned cheekily and you couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Pizza, for Mr Abs? What about all those carbs?" you teased him, picking up the menu from the desk.

"Well, you really upset me and now I'm eating my feelings," Finn pouted adorably at you, giggling when you threw a pillow at him.

You and Finn went back and forth teasing each other until the pizza arrived, when Finn jumped up excitedly and rushed to the door to collect it.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Finn asked, sitting at the end of his bed and tucking into his Pizza.

"Sure," you started flicking through the movie channels. "Oooh, Toy Story!"

You lay back, occasionally eyeing up Finns pizza. Your stomach gave you away and let out a thunderous growl, as you held a pillow over it, trying to muffle the sound.

"Do you want some?" Finn tempted you, patting an empty space on the bed next to him. Nodding enthusiastically, you accepted the invitation and grabbed a slice.

The room fell quiet apart from the sound of you and Finn happily tucking in to the pizza.

"So are you feeling any better?" Finn asked, grabbing another slice.

"Better? What do you mean?"

"Well you seemed angry earlier. It must be frustrating never getting to see Becky," Finn prompted, giving you a look of genuine sympathy. You were surprised that he had picked up on it. You usually had a bad attitude around him anyway, so it was impressive that he could tell you were more upset than usual.

"I was at first, but I get it. They're a couple, they wanna spend time together. If I had a boyfriend, I'd be the same, " you confessed.

"So what happened with that guy you were seeing?" Finn asked, the hint of a smile on his lips.

"Oh that didn't go anywhere. Wait, how did you know about that?"

"Oh... I guess... Becky might have mentioned it..." Finn stammered, unusually flustered.

"Becky didn't know..." you eyed him suspiciously. Finn paused, thinking for a moment before sighing.

"OK fine..." he shuffled nervously. "A couple of weeks ago, I was outside your locker room and I heard you on the phone to him."

"And why exactly were you lurking outside my locker room, Mr Balor?" you teased him, amused by this vulnerable version of Finn.

"Well, I was planning on asking you to dinner," he quickly reverted back to his usual, charismatic self.

Speechless and somewhat embarrassed, you grabbed another slice of pizza and continued watching the movie. You're cheeks felt hot, and you could still feel Finns eyes on you. But even so, you couldn't help but feel surprised by how comfortable you were around Finn.

After several minutes, you dared to glance back at him. The glance escalated, and soon you found yourself examining his features in great detail. He really was incredibly attractive. Your attention moved from his dark hair towards his mesmerising blue eyes, twinkling with delight as he watched the movie, down his strong cheekbones to where an adorable, boyish smile perfectly complimented the rest of his face. As he turned towards you and caught you staring, every instinct told you to avert your eyes, but you just couldn't.

His eyes locked onto yours, holding your gaze as you felt your heart rate increasing. He smirked, pleased with himself for having caught you staring at him. Unblinking, he looked you up and down, licking his lips seductively. Bashful, you turned away, not wanting him to see you blush. Finn reached out a hand to stroke your reddening cheek.

Your skin tingled, as you nuzzled against his hand. Finn let out a low, victorious chuckle and cupped your other cheek in his hand, turning it to face him. You stared at his lips for just a moment before closing the distance between your face and his, stopping just before his lips. You closed your eyes, smiled to yourself, and pressed your lips to his. It was gentle and nervous at first, but as your hunger for him grew, the kiss became more passionate. You let out a small moan when he gently nibbled your lower lip. He pulled away, breathless, eyeing you intensely.

"If this goes much further... I won't be able to stop myself. Are you OK with that?" Finn asked, stroking your cheek. You nodded, never breaking eye contact. Finn smiled roguishly.

"Perfect." Finn grinned, tangling his fingers in your hair and devouring your lips, as you made a silent reminder to thank Seth and Becky

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think, and if you want a part 2 at some point in the future 😊

#fergal devitt #fergal devitt x reader #finn balor #finn balor fanfiction #finn balor fic #wwe smut #finn balor imagine #finn balor one shot #finn balor x reader #finn balor x reader smut

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enamoured-x · 4 years ago

Text

Long Enough

Luke Alvez x Reader

Summary: You and Luke share an intimate moment.

Word count: 2.8k

a/n: my first Luke fic bc I miss criminal minds and my rewatch had me missing him like crazy. Enjoy!

*Not my gif

As a member of the BAU for five years, you Penelope, JJ, Tara and Emily had grown extremely close over the years. Always having girls night whenever you could squeeze in time between cases. Currently though, girls night had turned into a team night when Rossi overheard you all talking about going to the bar. He of course invited himself which in turn led to him pressuring Spencer to join and then telling Luke to tag along as well. Matt had his kids to go home to so he decided on a rain check but suddenly, your girls night was nonexistent. You weren’t actually upset about it, although you did love talking to the girls about things you didn’t feel comfortable talking about in front of the guys. What you were concerned about was the fact that Luke was coming. He joined the BAU two years ago and somehow you had developed a small crush on the former ranger. He was incredibly sweet and always knew how to make you smile. But you two were closer to best friends than being anything more. You hung out with him all the time, going for runs with him and Roxy in the mornings occasionally or having dinner at his place or yours. Honestly, you two were glued to the hip. Even though you spent days together while working on cases you would both still make plans to hang out. Even crashing at each other’s place for no other reason than not wanting the night to end but not wanting to go home around two in the morning. All of this being the reason why you didn’t want him to know about your feelings for him. You two had something good going and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin it. Some days you thought he already knew with the way you two flirted. But it was all in good fun, it never meant anything, at least not to him.

Which was why you still wished it stayed a girl’s night. Your girls knew all about your predicament, not from your mouth though, apparently you weren’t as sneaky as you thought you were being. They caught on real quick which then began the constant conversations about Luke and what you should do. The girls were all for you telling him, they even had it in their heads that he felt the same but you didn't know if you were willing to take that risk. Willing to risk your friendship and your comfortable work environment.

You had arrived at the bar with Tara, both of you living within a few minutes of each other made it so you two would car pool a lot. Surprisingly the team was already there, gathered around a standing table.

“They you guys are!” Penelope shouted as you two walked over to the table. Your eyes met Luke and you couldn’t help but smile as he flashed you that big grin of his. Pulling you into him as you got to the table, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“You look great.” He said into your ear, the rest of the team continuing their conversation.

“Thank you, I guess you look alright too.” He barked out a laugh. He didn’t just look alright, he looked delicious. He was wearing an off-white button up with his dark blue jeans and black boots. It was what he usually wore except the soft colored shirt really brought out his tan skin.

“Whatever, I know I look good.” He said and then grabbed a glass on the table and handed it to you, “old fashioned for you.” Your heart warmed at the gesture. You don’t know why you were all that surprised, Luke ordered for you all the time.

“Thank you.” You caught JJ smirking at you and you quickly took a sip of your drink to calm your nerves. You’ve hunted down serial killers but the second your feelings come into question you get scared, unbelievable.

You all slipped into conversation around the table as the night went on.

“Tell them what really happened!” Emily urged you to tell your part of the story of when you decided to go visit her in London. It involved a night out with a rowdy Emily at some bar.

“Emily took it upon herself to start speaking in a British accent after a few drinks.” Emily groaned thinking you were going to defend her actions as you giggled. The table laughed. Luke kept a hand on your waist throughout your whole retelling and when you were about to excuse yourself to get another drink he offered to do it for you.

“I got it.” He said but before he could leave everyone else placed their drink order with him for another round. He groaned and you laughed.

“I’ll go with you.” You said and followed him to the bar. Not before sparing a glance behind you, the whole team eyeing you both and your face flushed as even Spencer and Rossi gave you knowing looks. Jesus, if they knew then Luke had to know. Although Penelope was quick to tell you in the past that Luke might be a profiler but he was still a man therefore he was more than likely clueless about your feelings for him. You held onto that notion as you two came up to the bar. Luke tried to get the bartender’s attention but he was talking to some other people at the other end of the bar. He turned to you, “hold on.” He said before walking his way over to the man. You stayed where you were and before you could look back to see if the team was still watching you, a man took the place right next to you, leaning against the bar as he faced you.

“Hey gorgeous, can I buy you a drink?” He asked, usually you’d admire his dirty blonde hair and his dimples but the only thing on your mind lately was curly brown hair and the most beautiful brown eyes you’d ever seen. You had it bad.

“I’m good. Thanks though.” You said, looking over to where Luke was, finally having got the bartender’s attention.

“Oh come on, just one drink. I just thought you looked really nice in those jeans–” His hand skimmed your thigh and you slapped it away, shocked by the action.

“Do not fucking touch me.” Before you could say anything else, Luke put himself between you and the creep.

“Back the fuck off right now.” Luke told the man. He didn’t look all that bothered as he stood up straight and laughed at Luke. You moved yourself to stand at his side and spared a glance at him. His face tilted up to look down on the man and the harsh glare in his eyes was evidence enough that he was pissed off.

“Chill out, man. Just wanted to have some fun with the pretty lady.” He took his eyes off Luke to look over at you, his gaze made your skin crawl and as if Luke could sense that, he stepped in front of you again and tilted his head to meet the guys eyes again. You were used to creeps who wouldn’t take no for an answer, you were used to having to tell them off and you were obviously more than capable of handling yourself, but something about the way Luke had no problem coming to your defense had you feeling grateful. Maybe even a little refreshing, it was tiring dealing with these kind of men but Luke had no problem with that job.

“She said no, get lost.” Luke demanded. His shoulders were tense and you knew this guy was getting on his nerves for the sole reason that he couldn’t just take no for an answer, he just had to play this game. You grabbed Luke’s arm as you saw the bartender place your drink order in front you both, trying to just get him to ignore the stranger.

“Think I could change her mind.” The guy shrugged and tried to look around him. You pulled at Luke’s arm as he tried to get in the strangers face, “are you fucking serious right now?”

“Okay, let’s calm down.” Rossi’s voice broke the two men’s stare down as he walked up to you three.

“Who the hell are you?” The guy asked. Rossi pulled out his credentials.

“Get lost.” Rossi told him and the douche scurried away as soon as he saw the ID.

“Let’s try not to start a fight on our night off.” Rossi teased as he grabbed the tray of drinks and walked back over to the table. They were all watching you two and you groaned.

“You good?” Luke asked, ignoring the team’s watchful eyes.

“Yeah, you know I don’t need saving, Alvez. I thought you figured that out the other day when I pinned you to the mat at the gym.” You teased him, wanting him to calm down. You knew Luke to be fiercely loyal and extremely protective so him wanting to come to your defense was simply because of that protective nature in him. You admired it.

“Oh how could I forget you on top of me?” He smirked and you hit his arm playfully.

“Shut up, Alvez. Let’s get back to the table.” He laughed as you two made your way back.

“Well, well, well, if you weren’t our girls night and shining armor. Although she doesn’t need one because she can be a badass all on her own and she does not need a man to save her and she clearly could have handled it all on her own.” Penelope smirked at you two and you shook your head as she rambled.

“She does not but doesn’t mean I won’t still try and protect her.” Oh god, your face burned as the others smiled at his sweet words. Emily and Tara shared a knowing look with you. Maybe he did share your feelings after all…

“Anyways,” you said, trying to get the conversation off you two. Eventually they let up and you all slipped into conversation again. Luke kept his arm around your waist and the drinks in your system had you feeling bold enough to place your hand over his where it was resting on your hip. He looked down at you with the action and smiled before placing a kiss to your forehead and then casually kept his conversation with Spencer going. Your heart pounded at the gesture. It was all so intimate, the hand on the waist, his side pressed to yours, the kiss. You were sure to anyone looking over that you two looked like a couple, because friends definitely didn't act like this. JJ was to your right and smiled at you two.

“I think we were right.” She whispered to you and you rolled your eyes.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” You warned her. She shrugged but she still held a small smile.

Eventually everyone started leaving one by one, even Tara who decided to hitch a ride with JJ seeing as you weren’t ready to leave yet. Eventually it was just you and Luke. As always.

You were eyeing a group of people who had just walked in and overheard them talking about the club next door.

“What are you thinking about?” Luke asked as he finished his beer.

“I’m thinking we should check out the place next door, I feel like dancing.” You shrugged and his brows raised.

“Well, let’s go.” He ushered you out having closed the tab right after you two got your last drinks. You were not all that surprised at his eagerness, Luke was always down for anything. He grabbed your hand and interlocked your fingers with his. You couldn’t contain your giggles as you two made your way inside the dark night club, such a drastic change from the laid back bar you were just at.

“Come on.” He said, dragging you to the bar and getting you two more drinks. The crowded and loud atmosphere meant you and Luke were glued together as you both drank and exchanged words. You were practically hugging him at this point with how close you two were but he didn’t seem to mind as his whole arm wrapped around your waist. You definitely weren’t complaining. You two quickly finished your drinks, the cups being filled with mostly ice.

“Come on, you said you wanted to dance.” He pulled you to the dance floor and you two immediately started singing along to the song as he grabbed your hands and danced with you. His smile never left his face and your heart warmed at seeing it. It was one of his most redeeming qualities. A smile that could put you in a good mood no matter what, a smile that could also become something darker with a bit more curl to his lips. You two grabbed onto each other with each song that passed and before you knew what you were doing, you turned around in his hold. You didn’t have to worry about how he would feel with you pressed against him because he eagerly assumed back control and grabbed onto your hips and pressed his body into yours. Your senses were on fire, the feel of all of him pressed against your back, his warm breath at the shell of your ear, it was all consuming, even the music and crowd of people couldn’t pull you away from this moment.

“Is this okay?” He breathed in your ear, just loud enough for you to make out. You tilted your head to the side and he placed a kiss on your neck. Your breath hitched.

“More than okay.” Is all you said before you two started moving again. Luke’s body pressed fully against your back had your heart beating like crazy. You were sure you’d be more shy if you didn’t have a few drinks in you already but the alcohol was doing wonders for you.

You grinded against Luke as your hips rolled together, his hands digging tighter into your waist. You smiled and felt even more emboldened, so you slipped your hand behind you and grabbed onto the back of his neck while holding onto his arm with your other hand. He nuzzled his face into your neck, sending shivers down your spine as his facial hair tickled your skin. Never had you two been this close before, you wanted to blame the alcohol but you and Luke didn’t have more than a few drinks each. No, this was happening of your own volition. And he was participating fully as well.

Luke pressed his cheek against yours, allowing you to feel his stubble against your skin. You turned your head to meet his eyes and you felt a rush go through your body at how close you two were, noses touching now. You two had stopped moving, now too caught up in the moment you two seemed to be frozen in. His breath fanned your lips and his cologne invaded your senses, making your head cloudy with everything that was Luke Alvez.

“Just kiss me already, Alvez.” You said, tired of the waiting, tired of pinning after your best friend when it had been made clear tonight your feelings were definitely not one sided. He smiled and next thing you knew his lips were pressed against yours. The ache for him settled within you as his lips moved against yours, as his tongue found its way in your mouth. You moaned into his as you felt everything else in the room fade away, just you two and a kiss that was going to change everything.

You finally pulled away to breathe. Luke nudged your nose with his causing you to smile.

“Been wanting to do that for a while now.” He said, he then motioned towards the door and he wrapped his arm around your waist as he led you out. Once outside, the cold air nipped at your skin and you reveled in it. The crowded club was not the only thing that had your skin on fire, Luke’s hands and his gaze was doing that just fine.

“A while, huh?” You smirked and pulled him against the brick wall, your back now pressed to it, the cold stone calming you done from the heated kiss you just shared.

“Since I met you.” He placed one hand on your hip and one against the brick right by your head. His smile was making you flush as it was directed solely at you, and those eyes… a mischievous glint in them.

“Took you long enough.” You said, placing your hands at his neck, “now maybe we should make up for lost time…” You trailed off as he raised a brow and smirked as you pulled him to you.

“We should probably get started,” he said against your lips as you two kissed through your smiles, “two years is a long time.” He added, making you giggle into the kiss.

“Then take me home, Alvez.” With those words, he was pulling you to his car.

Luke was definitely worth the wait.

#luke alvez #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x you #luke alvez imagine #criminal minds

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obeyme-kaidii-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Sleep

Mammon x gn!MC

Words - 2286

Content warnings - none, just lots of fluff and humor, platonic relationships

Prompt/Inspiration - AO3 request

Summary - Mammon starts sleeping in your room at night, and you notice a peculiar habit of his.

AO3

You were a light sleeper. A very, very light sleeper.

There had been several times during your stay at the House of Lamentation when Mammon scared the living daylights out of you by crawling into your bed in the middle of the night. Eventually, you just flat out told Mammon that he had to sleep with you because you were not going to be able to rest otherwise. He stuttered and blushed and fumbled over his words, denying that he had any idea what you were talking about, but in the end, he had taken up semi-permanent residence in your room.

When you start sharing a bed with someone on a regular basis, you begin to learn a lot about them that you wouldn’t know otherwise. Like whether they hog the blankets, if they prefer sheets over thick comforters, if they snore. And you, likewise, started to notice some very peculiar traits of Mammon’s.

For example, he preferred to sleep entirely nude. Of course now that he was sleeping in your room most of the time, he made the effort to wear something. But it wasn’t unusual for him to wake up in noticeably fewer clothes than when he had fallen asleep.

One night in particular, you were about to learn yet another thing about Mammon.

————

Mammon had fallen asleep long before you, and you had stayed up to keep reading a book you had borrowed from Satan. As you got sleepier and sleepier you realized that maybe it was time you called it a night. So you rolled over to turn your lamp off, only to find that you couldn’t reach it because a certain demon of Greed was starfished on the bed, essentially trapping you in a corner.

You thought for a moment about what you should do about this situation you found yourself in. At first, you didn’t want to disturb Mammon. His sleeping face was just so cute! But you were tired. And despite the fact he looked absolutely adorable next to you now, this was the same little shit that woke you up frequently for reasons much more frivolous.

“Pssst, Mammon. Wake up,” you nudged him with your elbow. When he didn’t stir, you gave him a bit of a kick with your foot. And when he still didn’t wake up, you put your hand on his shoulder and gently shook him.

“Wassup?” he finally answered as he sat up in bed.

“Turn off the light.”

“‘K.”

Having successfully woken him up, and trusting that he could manage a light switch on his own, you rolled over, turning your back to him, preparing to go to sleep. But after a good minute or two, you realized the light was still on. So you rolled over halfway, and repeated your request.

“Mammon, the light.”

“Right. Right. Gotcha.” And with that he finally reached over to the lamp and flicked it off, before snuggling back into your blankets and curling up behind you.

————

The following morning, you were the first to wake up. You looked over to Mammon, who was still taking up a good ¾ of the bed, and you couldn’t help but smile. It really was nice waking up with someone else beside you. Even if that someone was a bed hog.

When Mammon woke up a few minutes later, it was only to find you staring at him. He blushed awkwardly as he looked away, which just made you laugh.

“Whattaya lookin’ at?”

“Oh just a cute demon, hogging the bed.”

“Oh...uh...sorry,” he replied, pulling his limbs to himself as he rolled on his side away from you.

“It’s fine. So long as you are willing to turn the light off for me,” you said, smiling and laughing softly, as you snuggled up next to Mammon, wrapping your arm around his waist and spooning him from behind.

“The light?”

“Yeah, like last night when I was reading. If you’re gonna hog the bed, then be prepared to be woken up to turn off the light.”

Mammon rolled over a little to get a better look at you, certain that you had to be teasing him or setting him up for a joke or...something. But you were just smiling at him like normal.

“What’s up?” you asked.

“I dunno whatcha talkin’ about. I didn’t turn off a light last night.”

“Umm yeah you did. You even sat up and talked to me.”

“Noooo I didn’t…” he furrowed his brow in confusion. What on earth were you trying to pull?

“Ok fine. It doesn’t matter. The deal still stands. Hog the bed, be put on light switch duty. K?” you asked, leaning forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek, something that you knew would fluster him.

“Uh yep. Got it. Light switch duty,” he said as he rolled back over to hide his face from you. Without even meaning to, he shifted back slightly so that he was pressed more fully against you, and you simply smiled and hugged him in return. You were such a brat sometimes...kissing him on the cheek like that out of nowhere. You could at least warn him. Not that he liked it or anything.

While you did find it a little odd that Mammon didn’t remember the light incident, you just wrote it off as one of those things. It’s not like it mattered whether or not he remembered, anyways.

————

A few days later, you returned to your room after a study session with Satan only to find Mammon already passed out on your bed, once again leaving very little space for you. It occurred to you then that perhaps he was doing this on purpose so that you’d have to sleep practically on top of him, so you decided to have a bit of fun.

Instead of crawling over him, you climbed in next to him by the edge of your bed, and poked him in the side.

His reaction was immediate. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes...and then he just sat there.

“Mammon? You can lay back down.”

He mumbled something.

“Mammon?”, you sat up to get a better look at him. His eyes were open, but only just, and his gaze was unfocused, “You can lay down now.”

“I don’t wanna,” he whined.

“Mammon, are you still asleep?”, you had heard of sleepwalking before, but this was a whole new level of weird.

“Nooo.”

Sensing that it was perhaps better not to argue with him, you laid down in your bed and tugged on his shirt to get him to join you, “Come cuddle with me then so I can go to sleep.”

Without further complaint, Mammon complied and curled up next to you, resting his head on your chest and wrapping his arm around your middle. It didn’t take him long at all to fall back asleep, leaving you even more certain that he must not have been fully awake to begin with.

————

After that, there weren’t any more unusual episodes with Mammon for awhile, so you had almost forgotten about the whole thing.

That is until one night when you had been just about to fall asleep, and a notification came thru in your DDD. Usually you would put your device on silent when going to sleep, but tonight you had been so exhausted that you forgot. So when the notification went off - it was LOUD.

Mammon immediately sat up, dazed.

“Sorry about that,” you said, turning the sound off on your DDD.

“Fin stis.”

“Huh?”

“Den sai tis id.”

“Mammon, I think you are asleep.”

“Noooo! Am not!!!”, Mammon replied, as he started to act like he was about to get out of bed. Concerned about the sort of trouble he could get himself in while in this state you tried your best to stop him.

“Mammon, where are you going?”

He didn’t answer, but at least he stopped trying to get up.

“I think you’re asleep. Please, don’t get up.”

“I’m not asleep!” he snapped. You were surprised by the tone of voice he was using with you. Yeah he was loud and yelled a bunch, but you had never seen him actually angry with you. Not wanting to provoke him further, you decide to drop the issue and try what had worked the last time this happened.

“Ok Mammon, then just cuddle with me.”

“Fine.”

“Yeah, just lay back down with me so I can sleep.”

There was incoherent grumbling from Mammon as he wiggled back under the covers, still clearly annoyed with you for accusing him of being asleep when he knew he wasn’t.

“We can talk in the morning. Just cuddle for now.”

Once he was laying down again, you cuddled up next to him and wrapped your arm around his waist, hoping it would at least give you some warning if he would try to get up again.

————

“Sooooo, Mammon. Do you remember last night?”

“Huh?” Mammon turned around to look at you from his seat on the floor by your bed. It was Saturday morning, and he was browsing Akuzon on his DDD, trying to decide what to buy with his latest modeling paycheck. You had been laying on your bed, “helping” him with his shopping by occasionally texting him suggestions that you found. They might not have been the most helpful suggestions, but at least they were making the two of you laugh.

“You yelled at me,” you said, turning off your DDD and turning your head to look at Mammon.

“Whattya talkin’ about?? Why would I yell at you??”

“Because I told you that you were sleeping.”

“You’re makin’ that up.”

“Mammon, have you ever had trouble with sleepwalking?” you were genuinely curious if perhaps some of the things he got accused of were the result of him wandering the House of Lamentation unconsciously in the middle of the night.

“Huh?! No! Of course not! What are ya trying to pull? Seriously, is this like a joke or somethin’?”

“No, I’m telling you - you got woken up by a notification on my DDD, and when I tried to get you to go back to sleep, you yelled at me.”

“There’s no way that happened. I woulda remembered it.” Mammon eyed you suspiciously. He was sure this had to be a prank of some sort, though he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what the punch line would be. Why were you being so insistent?

“Well it did,” you mumbled under your breath. If he was going to be so stubborn, you were just going to have to prove it to him. The next time - you were going to catch it on video.

————

Not wanting to wait until Mammon would have one of his “episodes” on his own, you decided you’d have to try to trigger one yourself. Based on your observations, you needed to wait until he was *just* asleep, and then wake him suddenly - either a moderately loud noise, or a forceful movement.

So the following night, you made sure your DDD was fully charged...and you waited.

It didn’t take long for Mammon to pass out. You had made sure he spent the day running around the Devildom taking you shopping, and doing other “date” things, just to wear him out. And since this was Mammon, it took a LOT to wear him out. If it wasn’t for the fact you were on a mission, you’d probably have nodded off yourself long ago.

You pulled out your DDD, turned on your camera to record video…and then delivered a swift kick to Mammon’s butt.

As expected, Mammon sat up almost immediately.

“Hey Mammon.”

“Mmmm?”

“Are you asleep?”

“Nooo,” he whined. You snickered at his response. This was going perfectly.

“I need you to do something for me in the morning.”

“Sure, whattttayaaa want?”

“Can you make me breakfast?”

“Sure.”

“So what are you going to do in the morning?”

“Everryyythinnnn.”

“Are you going to make me breakfast?”

“That’s part of everrryyythinnn’.”

By now you were having a difficult time maintaining your composure. You only just managed to keep your DDD steady enough to get a decent video. You hadn’t tried talking to Mammon this much the other times, and were surprised at how long he was able to keep this up. Seeing as you had nothing to lose, you decided to keep going.

“Can you say it for me in a complete sentence? What are you going to do in the morning?”

“Breakfast and bugggsss.”

“What?”

“Breakfast and bugggsss.”

“Bugs?”

“Yesh.”

“So one more time, what are you going to do in the morning?”

“Killlll everythinnnn’.”

That was apparently your breaking point, and you had to cover your mouth to stop the loud squeals of laughter that weren’t threatening to escape. This had gone far more perfectly than you ever could have imagined. There was no way he was going to be able to deny this now. Imagining how red his face would get as you showed him the video had you giggling even harder.

Pausing your recording, and safely tucking away your DDD, you decided that you had had enough fun for the night and that it was time to give poor Mammon a break and let him rest.

“Ok Mammon, will you come cuddle with me now?”

“Fiiinnneee,” he said, slumping down onto the bed and rolling over so he could snuggle up to your side. You really had exhausted him that day, so he deserved a bit of rest. Gently combing your fingers through his hair, you thought about how exactly you were going to make use of this video as you drifted off to sleep.

Based on this conversation with my husband -

#gn!mc #platonic mammon #platonic relationships #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #mammon x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me fluff #obey me crack #mammon fluff #mammon crack #mammon fanfic

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spencers-renaissance · 4 years ago

Text

The Colour of Waiting is Purple

Summary: Spencer's just trying to get home as quickly as possible when a bad decision to take a shortcut down a back alley leaves him broken and bleeding into the night. // Hotch thinks it's a new case when his phone rings at 3 in the morning. It isn't.

Tags: whump, hurt/comfort, physical assault, major character injury, hospitals, dad hotch, hurt spencer, angst with a happy ending, eventual fluff

TW: graphic descriptions of violence // physical assault (no rape/non-con)

Pairing: Gen, Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 3.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Disclaimer: I'm sure there are some medical inaccuracies here, everything I know comes from google, whump tumblr blogs, and my embarrassing obsession with medical dramas. I also have no knowledge of the US medical system aside from what I know from the aforementioned sources so excuse any issues there.

Spencer doesn’t think anything of it when he leaves work at his usual time, the clock pushing midnight and the offices deserted. He packs his few personal belongings up and turns off his lamp before nodding to the janitor, the only other person to be seen, and taking the elevator down to the ground floor where there’s a little more sign of human life at least.

As soon as he steps out into the crisp winter air, he feels the exhaustion of working close to 18 hours straight on far too little sleep hit him. They haven’t even been working a case, he just gets so caught up in his reports and consults that he doesn’t notice the hours whizzing by until he looks up and the bullpen is deserted, dark except for his desk lamp.

Inevitably when spending the day at the office dealing with banalities, he finds something that captures his interest. It tends to send him on a trawl through the internet — or, occasionally, to another part of the building — looking it up in every journal he buys a subscription to until that itch is scratched.

The others always gently touch his shoulder or call out to him as they leave, which he tends to hear about 50% of the time, and Hotch especially tries to make him leave at a more sensible time, but he can’t help the way his brain works. Once it latches onto something it’s not letting go until it’s satisfied.

His feet carry him to the Metro station while his brain absently thinks over his most recent fixation, and soon enough he’s at his stop and back in DC. The streets are slightly more lively in the city, and the noise and light snap him back to reality enough to remind him of his bone-deep fatigue. He usually walks down the main streets to get to his apartment building, occasionally catching a bus if he’s earlier than usual or a cab if he’s later, but tonight he’s just longing for a quick microwave meal, a shower, and his bed. So, he dips down an alleyway and takes the shortcut home.

It’s stupid.

He knows pretty much every statistic there is to know about his city, and at the forefront of his brain are those concerning crime. DC has one of the highest crime rates in America, and a person’s chances of being a victim is 1 in 18, and although it’s slightly lower in Adams Morgan which is one of the safest, violent crimes are still 36% higher than the national average. This is decidedly increased when you take stupid risks like walking through the backstreets in the dead of night when you’re on your own.

Sadly, this does not occur to Spencer before he’s deep in the back streets of the city, being slammed ruthlessly against a wall by two men he didn’t see coming.

He’s winded immediately, and before his brain can catch up with what’s happening, a knife is being held dangerously close to his neck. All his self-defence training, all the moves Derek had spent hours teaching him when he’d first joined the BAU fly out the window and he can only breathe heavily with what he knows must be a terrified expression on his face.

“Well, well, well,” the man holding the knife leers, his arid breath hitting Spencer’s face, “look what we have here.”

The other man doesn’t speak. He’s stood slightly further back, arms crossed as he stares Spencer down. Although he’s physically the lesser threat right now, something about him has ice pooling in Spencer’s stomach.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, you fucking pansy,” he continues, pushing Spencer further into the wall, pain blossoming across his body, “you’re gonna let us look through your gay ass purse, and we’re gonna take whatever we want from it. And then, you’re gonna let Paulie here do whatever he wants to you. He’s had a real bad day, and a pathetic little queer like you is just the punching bag he needs, you hear me?”

It’s all Spencer can do to nod his head frantically. He wants to open his mouth, to negotiate, to talk them down, but this is nothing like when he’s faced with the FBI’s most wanted. He’s in control there, he’s on his turf, his playing field, it’s his game and he knows every rule, every bylaw, every exception.

Right now, he’s completely at these men’s mercy.

“Paulie, take his bag.” The man doesn’t take his eyes off Spencer’s face, scanning his expression and body language for any sign he’s about to bolt, for any reason to put his knife to work.

He tries to calm himself down a little, enough to catch his breath at least. He’s taken countless beatings throughout his life, he knows how to survive, just… please, don’t let it be anything more. It’s all Spencer dares to hope for.

The other man steps forward and snatches his messenger bag, unceremoniously dumping the contents of his bag on the pavement. Spencer’s just grateful that he doesn’t have anything in there that hints towards his career. He knows this type: they’re intimidating but they’re easily scared. Right now, he’s a weak twenty-something on his way home, he’s not a threat to them, but who knows what they’d do to him if they realised he’s a fed?

They take his wallet and his phone before they rummage through his pockets to find some spare cash. His badge is tucked in an inner pocket in his blazer and his Quantico ID is still hanging around his neck, hidden under his scarf, blazer, and thin overcoat; he’s so glad he never took it off.

An icy tear drips down his face as he stands there, pressed against the wall, awaiting his fate. All he wants right now is to be back at home. No, that’s not right. All he wants right now is Hotch. As soon as the thought of his father-figure crosses his mind, the tears start flowing faster, desperate to feel safe again, knowing Hotch is the only person to really let him feel that way.

The man holding the knife has turned to watch Paulie sift through his bag and rummage through his pockets, but as soon as his steely grey eyes return to Spencer’s face, his face splits into a shit-eating grin. “Aw, are you crying?” he mocks, starting to laugh. “Are the big bad men making you feel scared? You gonna run home to Mommy?”

He knows that it’s exactly what the man wants, but he can’t stop the tears from devolving into full-blown sobs at his words. The whole terrifying experience, the implications, the realisations of what might be coming for him in the next few minutes start to catch up to him and he’s violently shaking as he cries uncontrollably.

“You’re pathetic,” the man spits, releasing his grip on him slightly, letting Spencer’s shaky legs collapse under him and send him crashing towards the ground. “He’s all yours, Paulie. I’m gonna enjoy this.”

His position is quickly taken over by Paulie as the other man leans against a dumpster close by to watch the show, and Spencer looks up at the intimidating man with fear blazing in his eyes as he hangs in purgatory, knowing the hell that’s about to rain down on him.

Paulie doesn’t take long to get started and he doesn’t hold back, his sturdy, black boots kicking him relentlessly in the stomach and his thighs before moving up to his chest, slamming the toe of his boots into each individual rib. Spencer can hear the other man laughing maniacally over the sound of his own bones breaking, over his own choked pleas for mercy, but it’s like Paulie doesn’t hear either of them. His face is blank as he gives Spencer the beating of his life, and it only makes him more terrifying.

He quickly gets bored of kicking Spencer and bends down to yank him up by his scarf, only to land a hard, brutal punch on his jaw, then his cheek, then his nose before dropping him down again, this time so his back is vulnerable, at the mercy of Paulie’s cruel feet.

The torture continues for a few more minutes, and Spencer doesn’t know how no-one hears his desperate cries, but they’re left alone in the alley as he coughs up blood and feels his bones break under the tread of Paulie’s boots. He’s deprived of air as his chest is stood on, as his windpipe is crushed, but finally, finally it’s over.

“I’m bored,” Paulie grunts, giving Spencer one last brutal kick to the base of his back before walking over to the other man. They both saunter off down the alleyway, not casting a single look back at Spencer lying curled up on the ground, surrounded by his own blood.

Soon, the men have left, and he’s alone with only his ragged, painful breaths for company. He can hear the hoots of a bachelor party just a street over, but no-one’s coming to save him. No-one else is stupid enough to venture down the backstreets of DC. Not with crime rates like those of their city. Not in the small hours of the morning. Not alone.

He doesn’t even have his phone to call for help.

⭐️

Hotch expects it to be work when he picks up the phone at 3am. By the time he’s sat up in bed and sliding the bar on his phone to answer it, he’s already half in work-mode, ready to call Jessica and drive Jack over before racing into work to beat the others on the team. He can already taste his first coffee of the day.

“Hello, is this Aaron Hotchner?”

It isn’t work.

“Uh, yes,” he says hesitantly, shifting upright a little further, sleep-addled mind trying to guess who the caller could possibly be, “speaking.”

“Hi, my name is Mary Kutner, I’m calling from George Washington University Hospital. I have you down as Spencer Reid’s emergency contact, is that correct?”

Hotch’s heart plummets, and he leaps out of bed immediately, ready to get dressed as the shock wakes him up. “That’s correct. What’s happened?”

“I’m afraid I can’t divulge much information over the phone, sir, but we’ll need you to come to the hospital urgently.”

He isn’t usually an emotional person, but he can feel tears springing to his eyes already. Spencer is a surrogate son to him, and knowing he’s hurt without knowing what he can actually do about it is an atrocious feeling. Please don’t let me watch another member of my family die, is all he can think as he tries to gain enough composure to reply to the nurse on the other end of the line.

“Can you tell me his condition?” he asks, somehow managing to get the words past the lump in his throat.

“He’s currently in theatre, sir,” Mary replies as gently as one can in such a professional tone. “If you come down to the hospital and report to the ER a doctor will be able to tell you more. I’ll need you to bring identification with you, please.”

“Okay,” he breathes, trying to keep as calm as possible, “okay. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll be right there.”

He throws the phone on the bed as he finishes throwing his clothes on. He packs two bags: one for him (mostly filled with things Spencer might need) and one for Jack, pulls on his coat and shoes before creeping into his son’s room and lifting him out of bed gently, carrying him down to the car.

Jack is a heavy sleeper — he frequently wakes up the next morning tucked in his room at Jessica’s, sometimes in the car on the way — and he’s endlessly thankful for that now. Explaining why he’s dashing out of the flat with a panicked look on his face to a seven-year-old is a conversation he’s glad to avoid.

He rings Jessica on the way who, used to his early morning calls waking her up, has no problem with looking after Jack.

Somehow, he manages to make it to the hospital only forty-five minutes later, and he didn’t even have to park illegally. Thank God the hospital is at least a little quieter in the dead of night.

“Hi, I’m Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid’s emergency contact,” he explains shakily to the woman at the front desk, laying down his FBI identification bag down as ID. He could use his driving licence, sure, but… if knowing they’re FBI agents will make any difference to Spencer’s care then he doesn’t give a damn if this could be construed in some way as abuse of his position. He’d rather lose his job than lose his son.

“Oh, hi Agent Hotchner,” the woman says with a tone of recognition, glancing at his ID before typing something into her computer, “I’m Mary Kutner, I spoke to you on the phone. Dr Reid is still in surgery but I’ll go and find a doctor who can explain the situation to you.”

He nods absently, face stern and pinched as furious anxiety toils inside him. He feels like the last forty-five minutes have been a daze, and now the bright lights and noisy machines and bustling action of the Emergency Department at a major trauma centre are slowly snapping him out of it, the implications of ‘urgent’ and ‘surgery’ and it being the middle of the damn night finally catching up to him.

Some number of minutes pass by — he’s too anxious and caught in his head to keep track of the linear passage of time right now — before he’s approached by a young doctor, wearing a mask carefully constructed of confident professionalism and reassuring compassion.

“Agent Hotchner?” She’s clarifying uselessly, she knows it’s him. He knows she probably has to confirm for some stupid HIPAA rule, but he just wants to know what happened goddamnit.

“Yes,” he replies shortly, “what’s happened to Spencer?”

He doesn’t miss her almost perfectly concealed wince, and he feels his stomach sink further. “He was involved in an assault on his way home from work. A passer-by found him in a back road not far from the hospital and called for an ambulance. Luckily we got him into surgery quickly. Upon admission’s initial assessment, he had a ruptured spleen, a collapsed lung, a double kidney contusion, and he suffered a pelvic fracture along with multiple broken ribs, a fractured jaw and cheekbone, and several severe breaks in his left forearm, wrist, and hand.”

Hotch stares at the doctor in disbelief as she lists Spencer’s injuries: he feels like he’s going into shock. How could anyone want to hurt the sweetest person he’s ever met? How could anyone be so brutal? He’s worked with serial killers for nearly two decades and still, nothing could prepare him for this. He sits down in the seat behind him as the world spins, his brain trying to piece everything together.

“Are you alright, sir?” the doctor asks, sitting down in the seat next to him. “Do you want a glass of water?”

“What?” He turns to look at her before her words sink in and he realises what she asked. “Oh. No, I’m fine… I— is he going to be okay?” As soon as the first tear spills down his cheek, he can’t stop them from falling one after another, dripping down his face in his most public display of emotion since Haley died.

“He’s going to need a lot of care,” she reasons, “he’ll need to stay in hospital for at least a week depending on the outcome of the surgery, but we have every reason to believe he’ll make a full recovery.”

“What’s— what’s the surgery for?” He feels like he’s having an out of body experience.

“They’ll address the internal bleeding first by either fixing or removing the spleen and making sure we didn’t miss anything else on the scans. The surgeon will also assess the damage to Spencer’s kidneys and make sure they aren’t contributing to the internal bleeding. They’ll address the pelvic fractures and the collapsed lung as well. You need to understand that Spencer may need further surgery and he’ll definitely need very close monitoring over the coming weeks and months.”

“What about his broken bones?” Hotch asks. “How bad is it?”

She sighs. “They’re bad,” she admits. “The pelvic fractures are likely going to have a big impact on his mobility, and he won’t have the use of his left arm for a long time. We’re looking at a long recovery, Agent Hotchner. But we have every reason to believe that he will eventually recover.”

She pats him comfortingly on the hand before getting up. “Someone will fetch you as soon as he’s out of surgery.”

It’s not until she’s halfway across the waiting room that he realises she never even told him her name.

It’s close to 8am by the time a surgeon walks over to him, still dressed in scrubs. There’s a smudge of blood on his shirt and Hotch winces at the knowledge that it’s Spencer’s.

“How is he?” he asks, leaping up. He doesn't want any screwing around. He just wants to know if Spencer’s going to be okay.

“He’s stable. The surgery went well. Unfortunately, we had to conduct a full splenectomy to stop his internal bleed which does put him at risk for serious infections, but otherwise, it’s good news. His kidneys will need support but should heal in a timely manner, and we were able to set the rib that punctured his lung and reinflate it, although we’re going to keep him on oxygen to be safe. His pelvis was severely fractured but we managed to reposition the displaced bone fragments and inserted a screw and metal plate to hold them together.”

“Oh, thank God,” Hotch sighs with relief. The worst, immediate threats have been dealt with, and it settles a small part of the anxiety he’s feeling.

“He’s in room 338 if you’d like to go and see him. He should be waking up shortly.”

⭐️

Wasting no time, he races up to Spencer’s floor where a nurse lets him onto the ward and leads him down to 338. He pushes the door open apprehensively, swallowing his emotion at the sight of the man he considers a son lying in a hospital bed. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s been rushed to the hospital, but it’s never been like this. It’s always after a case: Spencer knows the risks of the job, they all do, and he puts himself deliberately in harm's way for the sake of others.

This time, though… this time he was just walking home from work. This time he had no say in the matter.

His left arm is in a cast and his face is bruised and swollen, chestnut hair matted and tangled. Opening the bag he packed, he pulls out a comb and gently teases out the tangles until he can comb through the curls completely unobstructed. There are undoubtedly more knots at the back of his head, but those can wait until he’s woken up at least. It just makes him feel like he’s doing something.

It’s only when he sits down in the chair by his bed that he realises it’s Thursday morning now; he’s supposed to be at work today, they both are. No-one except Jessica knows what’s happened.

The first thing, he supposes, is to ring Strauss.

Once that’s out of the way and she knows that neither he nor Spencer will be in today and he’ll inform her of the latest updates as soon as possible, he messages Rossi. He’s the only one who will be able to remain objective enough to inform everyone, and he’s enough of a dad to the team to help manage everyone’s emotional responses.

Just as he hits send on the message, his head snaps up at Spencer’s quiet whimpering as he comes around.

“Hey, hey, Spencer,” he says as soothingly as possible, “it’s okay, I’m here. You’re in the hospital. Are you in pain?”

Spencer blinks his eyes open blearily, wearing such a pained and vulnerable expression that it goes right to Hotch’s gut. He nods in response to his question, his good hand reaching to hold Hotch’s.

“Okay, there’s a PCA pump right here, I’ll turn it up a little. Is that better?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, tears springing to his eyes. Now he’s not in as much physical pain, Hotch knows this is pure emotion, and he thinks that’s somehow worse. Spencer’s been through a horrifying physical ordeal, but the emotional recovery is going to be just as gruelling and last years. If there’s one word he’d use to describe Spencer, though, it’s resilient.

He shushes him gently, bringing a hand to his hair and caressing it lightly. “I’m here,” he repeats. “You’re safe. I won’t leave you, okay?”

Spencer nods and relaxes into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as he calms down a little.

“You rest now,” he murmurs. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Everything’s going to be okay.”

They’ll deal with the fall-out later. They’ll deal with the team coming to visit, with the paperwork for his sick leave and the frustration of government bureaucracy. They’ll manage their way through processing the trauma of what happened to him, the physical, mental, and occupational implications of the assault. They’ll stay glued at the hip while Spencer’s interviewed by the police, while doctors explain to him just how serious his injuries are.

Right now, though, Spencer will sleep and Hotch will sit by his bedside watching the rise and fall of his chest, listening to every steady beep on the heart rate monitor, searing the living breathing proof that Spencer is alive into his mind. Spencer will sleep and Hotch will cry silently over the cruelty of the world, he’ll grieve for the man he said good-bye to 12 hours earlier, knowing he’ll never quite be the same again.

Spencer will sleep and Hotch will be there, holding his hand, waiting for him to wake up again.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii @suburban--gothic @takeyourleap-of-faith

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #criminal minds whump #whump #spencer reid whump #aaron hotchner #hotch #spencer reid #aaron hotchner & spencer reid #criminal minds gen #criminal minds gen fic #criminal minds angst #tw violence #tw assault #tw beating

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aperrywilliams · 4 years ago

Text

Something to Say (Spencer Reid)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

———————

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Main characters: Spencer Reid, Fem!Reader, Diana Reid.

Summary: Spencer and Reader has to deal with bad news and they support each other in the process.

Word Count: 7476.

Warnings: Contains mentions to illnesses, death and grief. Angst the most part, but some of relieve in the end.

A/N: Hello again lovely people. I wanted to write this fic a time ago, wasn't easy, but hope you appreciate it. Again, all the love to my beta @imagining-in-the-margins . Please, impressions, comments and any reaction for this one are welcomed. Thanks for reading. Thanks to @emilouu for suggesting the nickname for Reid’s daughter.

——————–

That Thursday I was finishing my shower when (Y/N) came into the bathroom. The water was running but I could hear when she opened the door and said my name, trying to get my attention. I closed the faucet and peeked out the curtain.

“The Day Care Center called. There are problems with the water supply and they aren’t going to receive children today. We have to decide what we are going to do. We could take her to my parents' house, but it's still early.” (Y/N) told me with concern.

"Oh. This is… unexpected.” I replied, grabbing a towel and coming out of the receptacle to dry myself. "Wait, isn't today the presentation you have with Prentiss about the BAU on the FBI’s Board?"

“Yes, it’s today at 9:00, exactly. But perhaps Prentiss could go with JJ…” said (Y/N) pondering the options.

"No way. You've prepared yourself a whole week for that. Don't worry, I'll stay with Emi. If a case comes up, I don't think it'll be a problem. I can assist from here.”

"Spencer, are you sure? I don’t want…"

"Of course. Don't worry, I'm staying with Emi today. I’ll come up with some activities to keep her busy.” I said with a smile.

"You’re an angel and I love you, you know that, right?"

"Yep. I know. I love you too". (Y/N) came up and gave me a quick kiss on the lips.

"I'm going to make breakfast while you get dressed and I’m going to wake up our Sleeping Beauty."

Our little Emily Diana was already 3 years old. It felt like it was only yesterday when I took her in my arms for the first time. Now she was a smart and... very active little girl. In my opinion, a good combination between (Y/N) and me. And while my staying with her that day was unplanned, in my head I managed to organize a short list of things we could do together.

I dressed her after breakfast and a bath, and later we concentrated on solving some animal puzzles that JJ had given Emi for her birthday. Then we took a coloring book and reviewed some letters and numbers. Of course, my daughter already knew all of them and named them without any problems. We had a mid-morning snack and then played, running around the apartment. It was certainly her favorite activity with me - in addition to the stories I read to her before bed. I'm sure I got ridiculous enough running and running away from a 3- year-old girl, but I didn't care.

The next activity was the 'tickle war'. I was lying on the couch and she was struggling against my tickling attack when my cell phone rang. I looked at the clock on the wall and it was close to 12:30. I was sure that it was (Y/N) to remind me Emi should have lunch at 1:00 p.m, so when I picked up the phone, I didn't even notice the caller ID.

"Reid ..." I replied, laughing even in my role as the 'ticklish monster'.

"Dr. Reid. Good afternoon. Addy Moller speaking." I immediately recognized the voice and the name. She was my mom's caretaker in Brookfield.

"Addy, good afternoon. Tell me how I can help you… did something happen with my mom?” My laugh passed and turned into concern.

"I'm sorry but I must say yes. Diana suffered a physical decompensation earlier today and we transferred her to the hospital. She is being monitored and tested, but at the moment everything is quite uncertain. That's why I’m calling you; I think it would be good if you could come…”. I could hear a certain caution in her voice.

"Which hospital?" I was quick to ask.

It was becoming common that my mom suffered decompensations in her physical health, but this was the first time that led her to the hospital and made them call me with that kind of urgency. I felt something in my stomach made me uncomfortable. I had the phone in my hand and was sitting on the edge of the couch. Emi stood on the sofa and clutched at my neck as if she suspected something was wrong.

"Daddy?" she asked as she tried to climb onto my back.

"I’m sorry pumpkin. Daddy was distracted by the phone. We’ll need to stop playing for now. Daddy will make you lunch while he calls mommy, okay?” She nodded. While I handed her one of his books so she could continue coloring, I dialed (Y/N), who quickly answered.

"Baby, hello! So good you called me. I was just going to call you back to remind you Emi’s lunch…” She stopped talking when she heard a sigh on the other side of the line. "Spencer...? Is something wrong?"

"My mom... is in the hospital. They just called me… and they need me to go there… now.” My voice should hardly have been heard on the other side of the phone.

"Oh, baby. Calm down. I'm coming right now”.

***

After a short brief to the team, I ran out to the parking lot. I got in the car and drove as fast as possible without being reckless. Upon arriving at the apartment, Spencer was finishing feeding Emi. Dropping my purse and jacket to the floor, I immediately went to hug him. I could see his eyes were filled with worry and stress. His body tense and his brain somewhere else. He hugged me back, holding me tight.

"I'm here. Tell me, do you want us to go with you? If you don't want Emi to go, we can leave her with my parents. I called them on the way here and they said she can stay with them.” A stifled sob on my shoulder came first before he could speak again.

"I don’t know..."

I knew that his brain was fighting beyond logic. We finally decided Emily would stay with my parents.

The trip started quietly. I could see Spencer staring out the window, phone in hand, as if he was expecting it to ring at any moment. Occasionally I took his hand, and he squeezed it hard before releasing it. Reid, being cautious as always, didn’t want to distract my driving, but his silence was killing me, knowing his brain was working at 1000%.

"Spencer, talk to me. Tell me what's going on in that head of yours. Please, don't leave me out now.” I felt like he was having a hard time swallowing. After another silent moment, he began to speak.

“It's just I always thought I was ready for this moment. But I realized I’m not”. His voice was still, but I could feel the fear in him.

"Baby, you are anticipating an outcome that we don't know will even happen." I said, trying to get him off the ledge in his head.

"Rationally I know there are possibilities. But something beyond the rational tells me exactly what is going to happen, (Y/N), and I'm not ready to let her go.” I could feel how he was trying to hold back the tears.

"I know. But if there is any hope, I think it's only fair that we can hold on to it. Can you do that?”

He nodded and returned his gaze to the window.

***

We got to the hospital and I immediately asked for my mom at the reception desk. I was referred to the 4th floor of Intensive Care, where they told me the treating doctor would explain the details. I took (Y/N)'s hand and went to the elevator. At Intensive Care they told us to wait a few minutes for the doctor to come out to see a patient. There I saw Addy in the waiting room. When she saw me, she came closer.

"Dr. Reid. It’s good you were able to come so fast”. That was her perception. Mine, on the contrary, was that I could never get there fast enough.

"How is she? What are the doctors saying?” I hastened to ask.

"Diana has been dealing with kidney problems for a long time, as you know..." She said trying to contextualize the situation.

"That's correct, I know. That’s the reason we agreed to limit medication last time."

"Indeed. But prolonged exposure throughout her life brings consequences sooner or later. Until now they were manageable, but her body is not working properly anymore. That’s why the doctors want to evaluate possible alternative treatments. But that could also alter her mental state more.”

I was silent. My mother was fighting a battle between her body and her mind now, and nothing I could do or say could help her. "We should wait for the doctor then..." I said, trying to buy time to think and assimilate what I was hearing. Addy nodded. I sat next to (Y/N) to wait. She took my hand, squeezing it every now and then to let me know she was there with me.

My mind took me to the last time that I was in a hospital waiting for news. It was when (Y/N) gave birth to Emily. Although her pregnancy had been relatively uneventful, she had to undergo an emergency c-section. I was nervous, thinking about all the odds associated with the possible outcomes. I thought that my life was about to change dramatically, and I was scared. Although JJ and Prentiss were with me, trying to calm me down, I just couldn't. I remembered my phone ringing at the time. When I saw Addy's name on the identifier, I panicked, thinking something had happened to my mom. Fear that cleared when I heard her voice.

"Mom…?”

"Spencer, honey, I know you're nervous. Your voice gives you away. I also know that my granddaughter is about to be born and you’re surely thinking of all those things that could go wrong. Just stop doing that."

"How do you know (Y/N) is giving birth ...?"

"I just know. I can feel your fear from here... and all the things that are going through your head right now."

"Mom, I don't know how to react. I'm scared, I don't know if I can do it…”

"Honey, I know that. But you need you to focus on the life that is about to see the light. Just let it happen. Don’t overthink it. Feel it and live it.”

"I don't know how to turn off my brain..."

"You can't. But you can make your heart speak louder. Honey, your wife and daughter need you, and you need them. That is all that matters.”

"Dr. Reid?”

A voice saying my name and (Y/N)’s hand squeezing me tight pulled me out of my memory. When I raised my head, I saw the doctor in front of me.

"Doctor... how is my mom?" I asked.

“We have done several tests on Diana and some results are already available. We did a few more tests to be sure. I'm so sorry to have to give you this news Dr. Reid, but Diana is not physically well. She is not reacting to the medication and internal damage will start causing her more problems within the next few hours. We can keep her sedated for as long as necessary, but her condition is unlikely to improve. It is only a matter of hours that her body stops reacting. I'm truly sorry…”

Basically, she was telling me that my mom was dying and I couldn't do anything about it. I felt dizzy. I had a hard time swallowing. I started breathing heavily. I could feel (Y/N) hugging me around my torso and resting her head on my back. It was really happening. Addy, seeing my dismay and my inability to react, began to speak to the doctor.

"Is she conscious? Can we see her?" Addy asked.

“She is sedated for now, but she’ll wake up in a little while. If you want you can be with her in the room.” Replied the doctor.

"Dr. Reid. You should be there…” Addy told me, trying to get me out of my trance.

"Baby. Addy is right. You have to go see her.” Said (Y/N). I couldn't manage to do or say anything; I just nodded, looking for the most coherent words to say.

"Thanks doctor. I'll go. Can I … can I have a moment before?” The doctor and Addy nodded and walked away. I sat on one of the benches with my head buried between my legs and my arms covering my head. (Y/N) hugged me and squeezed tight.

***

It broke my heart to see him shattered like that. I also felt guilty for giving him hope during the trip to the hospital. In 60 minutes everything had turned 180 degrees, and I watched Spencer sink deeper and deeper into anguish and sadness. I would have given anything to not see him like that. I knew there were no words of comfort to ease the powerlessness and pain of that moment, but I needed to let him know that he was not alone; that whatever happened, I was with him, and we could share this burden together.

“Spence. My love, I'm so sorry. I know I have no right to ask you for anything right now, but your mom needs you now. I’ll be with you at all times, for whatever. You know you can count on me…"

"I'm not ready..." He managed to say between sobs.

“Baby, I don’t think we’ll ever be ready for this. But look at me." I tried to pull away the arms that covered his head. "I’m with you. Please, you don't have to carry this alone. Let me be your support, please.” That was how I felt him wrap his arms around my neck and sink his face into my shoulder, crying heartily.

After a few minutes I felt his breathing begin to slowly calm down and the sobs changed to sighs. He raised his head and stared at me with a nod. "Let's go see her". He took my hand and we walked down the hall looking for her room. The reception nurse told us it was 418. We stopped in front of the glass door. From there, Diana could be seen with her eyes closed, connected to machines that monitored her vital signs, as well as her intravenous line in one of her arms.

"Do you want to be alone with her? I can stay here until you tell me." He nodded and kissed me on the forehead, entering the room. I took my phone out of my pocket. Although I still had a lump in my throat, I had to notify the team. They had to know what was going to happen.

***

I approached slowly and saw how her breathing synchronized with the sound of the machines that she was connected to. She was still sedated. I took one of the chairs in the corner of the room and pulled it over to the side of the bed. I sat up and took one of her hands, squeezing it gently. She looked so peaceful. If it weren't for the noise from the machines, I could even imagine that it was a normal day in the sanatorium, and that I was just watching her nap. I didn't know if she could hear me, but I started talking to her, anyway.

"Hi Mom. It's me, Spencer. I came as fast as I could. (Y/N) is here too. She didn't let me drive this far. You know how she is; she worries a lot when she sees me nervous. Yes, I’m nervous. I'm... I'm sad. You know I don't like to see you like this…” Clearly, I received no response. "I’ll be here until you wake up. Don’t worry. Just... rest. We can talk when you wake up... "

A frustrated sigh left my body. Everything seemed so futile to me at the time. Surreal. I looked towards the door and saw (Y/N) on the phone, scratching her forehead and then rubbing her neck. Signs of concern. I couldn't have wished for a better partner in this life; despite all the things we’d faced in our relationship, both before and after we were married, not a day went by that I wasn’t grateful to have her by my side. I remembered when I told my mom. Sure, I had already told her about (Y/N) in my letters, but it wasn't until that moment that I realized what I felt for her was true love.

"You really love her, don’t you? In your letters you always talk about her like a teenager in love.”

"I don’t know. To love I think is... a big thing. But yes, I think so. I love her. It's been like this for a while now…”

"And why didn't you tell her yet?"

"I don’t know. What if she doesn't feel the same way?”

“Honey, of course she won't feel the same. We are talking about another human being. But doesn't mean she can't love you. I think we have talked about this several times. I know you fear rejection and your father is responsible for that. We have not made your life easy, Spencer, but that doesn't mean you should run away from the possibility of being happy.”

"Should I tell her?"

"Certainly, yes. Tell her. Be honest with what you feel and what you want. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it. Honey, life is long and hard. And you deserve to have someone you can share that with. All of it. The good and bad."

It was after that talk that I confessed my love to (Y/N). To my surprise, she laughed, saying that she felt the same way about me for a long time. Thus, we began our relationship. Apparently, I just needed a little "push." The memory made me smile. My mom always had wise words for me. In her way of seeing life, she has helped me build mine; with the good and the bad.

When I got married to (Y/N), we managed to get my mom to be at the ceremony. I couldn't even conceive of the fact she couldn't be there. Although it did mean postponing the date a few times. Logistically it wasn’t a big deal either, we never wanted to have a great ceremony or many guests. Her family and mine, which included my mom and the entire BAU, of course. When the ceremony was over, she approached me to speak to me. Surely my smile and happiness reached to heaven.

“I’m so happy to see you like this. I think it's been years since I've seen you smile like that. Not even when you were little kid. I want you to know that I’m proud of you, of what you have achieved and of the man you have become. Today you have a new mission in your life: to make that woman as happy as she makes you feel now."

"Thanks Mom. Thanks for being with me right now. I really needed you here."

"I know darling. I'm just sorry the fact because of me you had to postpone the date so many times."

"Don´t. Don’t say that. (Y/N) also agreed that and there was no problem with that.”

"Just make her happy, Spencer. Because I already know she makes you happy. Just don't take anything for granted. Build your love day by day. Don't let the routine end up killing the love you feel for each other.”

And of course there was a lot of sense in her words. Four years had passed since our wedding, and it has not been easy. Having a relationship with our jobs was not a piece of cake. Nurturing our relationship was also part of the day to day. We had our ups and downs, but every time some obstacle came between us, I remembered those words and repeated to myself what really matters.

Deep in that memory, I didn't see when (Y/N) entered the room. I only realized her arms go around my neck as she kissed me on the head.

"Do you want me to bring you something? A coffee?" She whispered to me. I shook my head and clung to her arms.

"Stay with me for a moment, please."

She gave me another kiss on the head as a way of agreeing to my request. "Of course, as long as you need to."

We were silent for a while. She knew tears were running down my cheeks, but she didn't want to stop them, so she just hugged me tight. I'm sure tears ran down her cheeks, too. For me, for her, for both of us. We were in this together. I couldn't help but break the silence by verbalizing my thoughts.

"What if she doesn't recognize me? If I don't have the chance to say goodbye to her?" I felt my own voice break.

"Don’t think that. You are her son. Although her mind may not recognize you, surely her heart does. She has told you many times.” Said (Y/N) trying to comfort me.

It was true. On her good days and her bad days, I'd never stopped thinking about it. The last time she was lucid, a few months ago, she repeated it to me again.

"I just want to thank you for being my son. For being with me even if I'm not with you most of the time. Although my mind can't even remember your name or your face, know that in my heart, I’ll always love you as I have never loved anyone else in this world.”

"You don't have to thank me... I'm the one who is grateful to be your son."

“I know. It's just that I wish I could tell her so many things now." Although at that minute, I didn't know exactly what, but I did know that I needed to tell her things.

"Will you be able to do it? Of course you can do it.” replied (Y/N), trying to encourage me as she sat on my lap and stroked my hair, still hugging me.

We were like that for a long time; silent. This time I had neither the strength nor the interest in looking at the clock, but at one point I saw my mom's face contort, a sign the sedation was wearing off.

When I saw her open her eyes, I was afraid. On the one hand, I was relieved to see her awake again, but I was afraid that she wouldn't recognize me, and it would be the same as if she were sleeping... or worse.

"Spencer?" Hearing her voice, even if it was almost in a whisper, was a relief. (Y/N) and I immediately got up from the chair.

"Mom, I'm here." I moved closer so she could have a better view of my face.

"Sweetie. I’m sorry I scared you. I don't know why Addy called you; I feel good now."

Damn it. Hearing that broke my heart. Was she deliberately lying to me? Did she really believe it? How could I tell her something? I looked at (Y/N) with pleading eyes. I didn't know what to say. She just stroked my back as she whispered in my ear.

"Give her time. Just stay with her. I’ll go to inform the doctors she is awake.” She kissed me on the forehead and left the room. I knew it was a moment that I had to have alone with her.

***

I left the room towards the nurse's desk to report that Diana had woken up so they could contact the doctor. I didn't want to go back to the room. I knew I had to give them space and let them be alone. Despite all his fears and apprehensions, I knew Spencer would do and say the right things.

I went to one of the coffee machines and by inertia, I placed a few coins to extract perhaps the worst coffee I’d ever had in my life. But that didn't matter; at least having the feeling of doing something kept my head busy. With the cup of coffee in my hand, I sat for a few minutes on one of the benches in the waiting room.

With my eyes fixed on the dark liquid, I remembered the time I told Spencer I was pregnant. He was ecstatic. We hadn’t been consciously planning to have children, but we certainly both wanted it. The first things he said to me after "I love you" was "no more coffee," followed by "we have to tell my mom."

After our appointment with the doctor and knowing that things were going well with the pregnancy, we went to the sanitarium to see Diana. The first time we were not very lucky. She was on one of her bad days. Thankfully, she was able to recognize Spencer at the end of the visit. He was frustrated and sad, but I told him we had a lot more time to tell her and to that we could try another day. So we did; that second time we had better luck. She was much more lucid than the previous times.

“So it is true that you’ll give me a grandson or granddaughter. You haven't wasted your time…” She said, laughing.

"Mom, please." Spencer was still embarrassed by those kinds of comments.

"Spencer, no 'mom, please.' I just want to tell you both one thing: I know you’ll love that son or daughter with all your heart, but you’ll have to learn so many things! And I don't mean just learning how to change diapers or how to make a bottle – I mean how to live and let live another person who came out of your own womb, who may be the exact reflection of yourself. I think it is one of the most difficult things for a mother or father to experience. I tell you from my own experience…”

Being that Emily was still little, I didn't know if I could understand those words at their best yet, but not a day went by that I didn't remember them. Instinctively, I brought my free hand to my belly. Surely we would not only live this process with Emily. A couple of days ago I found out I was pregnant again, but I hadn't told Spencer yet. It was very recent, and I wanted to go to my first appointment before I told him. Well, there will be time for that later, I thought.

"(Y/N)?" JJ's voice brought me out of my thoughts. When I raised my head, the entire BAU team was in my view. There I realized that I hadn’t even taken a sip of the coffee in my hand, and the smell was starting to bother me.

"Where's Reid?" Prentiss asked.

"He is with his mom now." I said, pointing to the hall where the room was. “She woke up very recently. She was sedated." Everyone gave me an empathetic look. I got up from the bench so that I could talk to them.

"How is Reid?" Rossi asked.

“Shattered. Powerless. Frustrated… I don't know what else could I say…” I shrugged and dumped the coffee in the trash can.

"And you? How are you doing?" Tara asked.

I could only scratch the base of my neck in despair. "I don’t know. I wish I could do much more... but I can only be there for him. There isn't anything else I can do.” I had not wanted to cry openly in all those hours because I was supposed to be my husband's support, but the situation was overwhelming me. In that moment, I released everything. Prentiss hugged me tight to comfort me.

"That is why we are all here, for whatever you need. We will stay here as long as necessary,” said Penelope.

"Thank you, guys. I know Spencer will appreciate it as much as I do," I said between disguised sobs on Emily's shoulder.

***

I took a deep breath and looked at my mom with a warm smile before continuing to speak.

"It’s okay, Mom. I wanted to see you anyway… that's why I'm here.” I tried to say something non-specific while finding out where we were.

"But look at this mess! These machines, these tubes… they should take all of this away from me,” she said in a frustrated tone.

"Mom... they can't. The doctors say they are necessary to monitor how you are doing and give you your medicine.” I tried to reason with her.

"The 'doctors,'" she murmured sarcastically. “Spencer, could it never be on my terms? Not even my own death?” She said, almost in a plea.

There I heard it; the proof that she knew. She was fully aware of what was going on. Would I to lie to her? I couldn't think of anything else to do.

"It’s necessary, so that you can recover."

Yes, I lied, trying to omit what had just come out of her mouth. It seemed the easiest thing to say. She looked at me with those eyes that rebuke you for lying. I felt like a child again.

“Honey… don't do that. We both know I’m not leaving here unless I’m in a coffin.”

Why did she have to be so rude while saying it? She said it as if it were the most natural and obvious outcome. Didn't she know it hurt me? Didn't it hurt her to say it?

"Mom, please... don't say that." I replied in protest.

"Do you want me to lie to you? I never liked lying to you, Spencer. You know that." Although her voice was soft, given her state and the narcotics traveling through her body, she denoted the same determination of her habitual character.

And yes; Diana Reid had never lied to me in her life, and she wasn’t going to start on her deathbed. Her ‘deathbed’. The thought of it made me finally collapse in front of her. I could see tears in her eyes too.

"Honey, look at me. I know this is difficult. Not that I have experienced it before, but we both knew this moment would come.”. I took her hand and squeezed it hard so that she knew I was listening, but I didn't want to open my eyes.

"It’s… just ... I'm not ready." My words were barely more than whispers.

"Me neither... but here we are." She squeezed my hand, and I finally opened my eyes. She had a wistful smile drawn on her face. “Sometimes we just have to let things happen. And don't think I 'm despising my life. Especially my life after having you. I have always told you that… that you are the best thing that could have happened to me in life. It would never be otherwise."

At that moment, the doctor in charge entered with some nurses. They checked the machines and brought a folder with papers that I assumed were my mom's medical records.

"Diana, how do you feel?" Asked the doctor.

"I've been better. Although at least I can recognize my son; I guess that puts me on one of my good days.” The sarcasm – my favorite inheritance. The doctor looked at me as if wanting to move away from her to talk to me.

"Mom, I'll be back in a minute, okay?"

"No. Whatever you have to discuss, do it here, in front of me. I don't want anything hidden from me. And if possible, I wish I could make decisions for myself too. After all, it is me who is dying.” Her tone was serious, but her voice trembled. A deep sigh ripped from my body. Yes, I owed her. It had to be on her terms. I looked at the doctor and nodded. She understood and began to speak.

"Well. Dr. Reid, Diana. Final examinations confirm the diagnosis of failure we had detected earlier. In the last hours we have tried 3 different routes of treatment to see if we can control the damage, but… none have worked. Sedation has helped with the pain, but it’ll start to get more intense in the next few hours. We have two options. We can maintain high levels of narcotics that will lessen the pain but keep you sedated, or we can work at lower levels, but that will bring more discomfort... but you will be conscious."

Before I could say anything, my mom stepped in. "How many hours?" Asked my mom looking at the ceiling.

"It is difficult to know exactly, but our estimate is between 4 and 6 hours." The doctor tried to explain.

"I want the second option," my mom said without even grimacing. I looked at her immediately.

"But mom, that means you will feel pain and be uncomfortable..."

She cut me off immediately. "Spencer, please, I'd rather take advantage of every hour I have left with you than be some kind of Sleeping Beauty."

"Do you agree, Dr. Reid?" The doctor asked me. I couldn’t disagree; she wanted it. I nodded.

“Well, we’ll prepare everything for dosing and monitoring of your condition. Any changes you experience and needs that appears along the way; we can make adjustments for."

"Thank you." My mom and I said at the same time. The doctor nodded empathetically and left the room.

"Spencer, I know what you are thinking now, but I thank you for letting me make this decision.”

"I know, mom. I know." I leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.

"Well. I want to know. How is my granddaughter? How are things going with (Y/N)? Is she here? Tell me as if you were writing one of your letters. I love your letters, you know that".

I sat in the chair next to her and, without releasing her hand, I began to summarize the past few weeks just as if I were writing her a letter, with all the details I knew she wanted to know.

***

The waiting room was silent. With what little I had eaten, I began to feel sick. I had to go to the bathroom. The morning sickness had started, and in addition to the stress, it seemed to get worse. My cell phone vibrated. It was a message from Spencer: He wanted me to come to the room. I got out of the bathroom and informed the guys I had to go back. They nodded and said they would stay there and wait for news.

When I stepped inside, I saw Diana awake and with a smile on her face. Spencer saw me and got up from his chair.

"Mom, I told you that (Y/N) was here." He took me by the waist to bring me closer to where she was.

"Hello my dear. I'm sorry you have to see me this way. I hope you don't mind,” said Diana, as if it were a very normal day.

“Diana, there is nothing to apologize for. How are you feeling?”

"I think so far they have been quite balanced with the doses." She said, pointing to her intravenous line. I gave her an empathetic smile. She stared at me like she was analyzing me. That was not unusual for her, but given the circumstances I didn't think she would do it.

"How are you? How have you been feeling lately?" She asked me. I looked at Spencer, confused. I thought maybe he had said something to her about being stressed from work or my isolated headaches. He looked back at me just as confused.

"Fine. Well, there is plenty of work at BAU. And Emily is also quite amount of work.” I said, laughing. She gently nodded.

"And you’ll have more work with the new one." She said nonchalantly upon seeing my belly. I froze, immediately feeling Spencer's eyes on me. I don't know what Diana saw, but she knew immediately.

"Are you…?" Spencer asked to me.

"Honey, it's obvious. Apparently you are not paying too much attention.” Diana said. I just nodded before she looked at me again, “Darling, I'm sorry I ruined the surprise, but I'm glad to know that your family is going to grow, even though I won't be there to see it.” She spoke with a sigh.

At that time the nurses came back in to check on Diana's condition. They asked us to leave the room for a moment. In the hallway, Spencer looked at me with puzzled eyes.

"Baby, I didn't want to tell you because it's so recent. I only took the tests a few days ago. I have an appointment with the doctor next week. I’m sorry.” I tried to apologize.

"It's okay. I’m not reproaching you for anything. Come here." He pulled me with one of his hands and hugged me tight. "Sorry that I can't be more animated, but it really seems like fantastic news to me."

"You don’t have to apologize. It's not the right time now either, I know.”

"As you can see, my mom always has other plans." He said muffling his voice in my hair.

"How she is doing?" I took advantage of asking to him. He related what was coming. He looked much calmer than at the beginning of the day. Resigned? Perhaps.

Although the passing of the hours meant a painful countdown, Spencer managed to share with Diana the most intimate of her mother-son relationship. I must say I always admired the way they cared about each other. Spencer trying to be the protective son while Diana, in her role as mother, always looked to teach him new things; advise him, support him, even if they didn’t see each other on a daily basis. The kind of bond that many families, no matter how much time they spend together, never achieve.

The last medical check-up showed Diana was declining, and that pain was not so subtle without the medication. The doctor again offered the option of sedation, which Diana refused.

***

I could see her face more uncomfortable than in the prior hours. You could tell she was breathing harder and her eyes were heavier. She insisted on being conscious as far as her body would allow. I never abandoned her side. Neither of us could speak. She didn’t because it was more physically difficult; I didn’t because I felt a lump in my throat from the powerlessness of seeing her in pain. We were silent. It was early morning, but the first ray of daylight hadn’t yet appeared. She opened her eyes and looked at me.

"Honey, what are you thinking...?” She asked softly.

"That I don’t like to see you in pain..."

She could barely smile. "I don't care about pain. I’m happy that you are with me. That is enough for me.” She said, closing her eyes and giving a deep sigh. You could tell it was more effort than she was willing to admit.

"Mom... I..." I wanted to be honest with her, but it was hard for me to get out of my 'I'm fine' role.

"Just say it, Spencer. Don't keep it. Especially not now…” She said in an almost inaudible voice.

"Mom, I'm scared. I’m afraid to let you go, and it's not just because I love you, it's because I don't know who I am in this world if I'm not your son. If I'm not here to protect you." I started crying again.

"Spencer... that's a role you've had for a long time." She told me in a whisper.

"It’s what I am..."

"No. You, my dear son, you are more than that. What we are in the world... can change. It's part of life. You have to move forward. You have to keep going. Do it for me, for you, for your family… Please.”

"How do I do that...?" I asked almost rhetorically.

"Just do it. You've been a wonder boy for many years. You are an adult now. A loving husband, an exceptional father… Just keep going.”

"I promise I’ll try. I swear, I’ll try… ” I said, squeezing her hand.

"I know. And I know you’ll succeed. Because you are my son, and I know you and I love you.”

Those were her last words.

The next few minutes were silent. All I could do was take her hand to try and comfort her through the pain. When the grip of her hand became languid, I realized she had passed away. The constant, deafening sound of the machines was only a confirmation of what I already knew.

A sob tore from my throat. Within a second the room filled with doctors and nurses. I couldn't let go of her hand. I didn’t dare; I couldn’t. (Y/N) took my arm, helping me to release my mom's hand. Helping me let her go.

“Spencer. We have to get out of the room. Come on love, let's go.” Nodding, I followed her into the hall. (Y/N) started talking to me to get me out of my shock. "It's okay. Everything will be fine. She is fine now. She is no longer suffering. You could be with her to the end. You let her go on her terms. I’m proud of what you did, Spencer, and I'm sure that she is even more proud.” I managed to hug her and sank my head into her shoulder.

***

"I'm going to miss her so much..." He told me as I gently stroked his head, trying to calm him down.

"I know, baby. I know. But you’re not alone; we’re not alone. We are together in this. We’ll get through it, I promise."

Those were the only words that came out of my mouth. I knew the pain was not going to go away quickly. I knew this would be slow, but I was willing to do whatever it took to help him. I sincerely hoped that he knew that.

We held each other for a while. Then it was him who broke the embrace, looking me in the eyes and resting his hands on my shoulders to make sure I was paying attention to him.

“I couldn't be luckier to have you by my side. And if I have to repeat it every day of my life, I’ll do it, because I don't want to take anything for granted between us. Thank you for being with me. I love you, (Y/N)”. His words were accompanied by a warm little smile; a promise that things would be okay, eventually.

"Always. Never doubt that I love you, Spencer Reid. And I’ll be forever grateful to Diana for raising such a unique and wonderful person like you."

Before walking to the waiting room, I told him that the entire team was there. I didn't want to disturb him with a surprise at a time of such vulnerability. He nodded, taking my hand, and we continued toward the waiting room. Seeing them, he couldn't let the tears run down his cheeks. I released his hand so that he could receive everyone's affection. Another way to show him that he was not alone in this; that there were people who would always be there for him.

***

I never expected to see so many people on the day of her funeral. In addition to my current BAU team, Derek, Aaron, Alex, and Kate were there, along with some of my mom's ex-students, part of the Brookfield workers, and others I didn’t recognize. I received many hugs and words of reassurance.

It was time for my speech. I looked at (Y/N) and our little Emily, who could hardly understand what was happening. I cleared my throat and started to speak.

Of course, Diana Reid would not have liked it all to be sadness, so when I saw the audience laugh at some of the anecdotes I told, I felt that she was smiling at me from where she was now. It was my time for the last words.

“… she always had something to say… something to say to me. In her own way, she taught me to be the man I am now. I’ll forever be grateful for that. And if there is something I aspire to in my life, it is to be able to teach my daughter and my next child so many things, as my mother taught me. And I know that she is proud of me; she told me that many times. But I want to continue to honor that pride for the rest of my life. I want to continue being the worthy son that she deserves, even though her body is no longer here. Now I only have one more thing to say... something to tell you, mom. Thank you for letting me be your son. I love you."

——————–

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #diana reid #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #dr. spencer reid

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dreaminpetals · 4 years ago

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SLAMS FISTS AGAINSTS TABLE i need more wlw content RN !!! but if u could write general dating hcs of margie nd patricia (seperately nd fem s/o) id really appreciate that ! thank u <3

💸 general romantic hcs for margie and patricia 🔮 . . .

margaretha zelle ;;

♡ after that disastrous relationship with her estranged husband, margie decided that men don't exist anymore and women are the only people who matter.

♡ she was interested in you the moment you arrived at the manor, the way you carried yourself captivated her and every interaction she had with you left her craving more. margie has unusually high standards so consider yourself extremely lucky that she even spared you a glance... let alone staring at you and daydreaming about sipping wine by the poolside together.

♡ loves to dance with you and perform for you, when she rehearses you're the one who gives her tips for improvement or ideas on what moves she could add.

♡ cannot hit high notes when she sings but when she sings under her breath and pairs it with relaxing tunes from her music boxes, they soothe you to sleep whenever you're having difficulties dozing off.

♡ she wants to give you a luxurious life, one full of riches and gold. margie idolizes the idea of getting to settle down with someone in a lush home with several walk in closets and a pool. she dreams of being far away from the buzz of modern society and to only have her wifey and a bunch of poodles.

♡ i'm not saying she's a sugar mommy but she has sugar mommy....tendencies.

♡ you both love spoiling each other, your relationship is almost a competition of who can spend more money on the other.

♡ loves when you cook for her!!! give her wine and a fancy meal over a candlelit table and she'll be wrapped around your finger for the night.

♡ would buy you matching heart shaped lockets with an anniversary picture of you two inside, the back of the locket has the date you got together on it :)

♡ every wednesday she holds girls nights with vera, fiona, helena etc and you always get matched with margie during 7 minutes in heaven, you insist that she's rigging the game somehow but she denies it and says maybe fate loves to bring you together (she's rigging it, everyone is, the whole game is set up to make the girls get paired with their crushes lol)

♡ sweet talks you often, she isn't shy about declaring that you're her dearie, doll, melody, or princess.

♡ always asking if you've eaten, slept, or seen the gift she dropped off a few hours ago... queen of making sure you take care of yourself.

♡ bubble baths with you are her favourite way to cool off after a long day, her days as an animal tamer lead to her having a soft spot for rubber duckies 🥺

♡ loves to doll you up and help you with glittery makeup looks or wigs, i'd imagine she would enjoy photoshoots as well.

♡ big picky eater, she sneaks you food when something doesn't meet her standards.

♡ once she feels truly comfortable around you and is confident you're the love of her life, she'll ask to be called natalie. you know more than her dancer persona so you deserve to address her accordingly <3

patricia dorval ;;

♡ patricia had never even considered romance, her whole life has been spent on the run, devoting all her energy into mastering powerful magic with her adoptive mother.

♡ it took her a long time to realize she was crushing on you.

♡ whenever patricia collected herbs you were always there to help her, she would demand to be left alone and boast about how she didn't need anyone's help, but you were more persistent than she was.

♡ patricia had to admit she enjoyed your company, while she was prickly towards other people she found it easy to warm up to you and even found herself placing you as a priority in battle, she couldn't focus on anything if you were in any sort of danger.

♡ what finally spilled her feelings over the edge was when her hand brushed against yours as you placed poisonous herbs into a basket together, she drew in your warmth and immediately grabbed both of your hands in hers.

♡ "y/n, i must admit... these strange feelings in my heart like butterflies... they are for you! i am in love with you." she winced at her blunt delivery but everything was okay when her eyes opened and she saw you beaming at her, squeezing her fingers and leaning in for a kiss.

♡ three words. lesbian power couple.

♡ if you had any sort of headache or difficulties falling asleep, you'd consult patricia before you even thought of seeing a medical practicioner like emily. the healing potions she brewed for you worked like a charm.

♡ patricia loves a good game of chess.

♡ don't think that she'll go easy on you just because she's infatuated with you, she views you as her equal and loves to compete with you fair and square.

♡ would love to do your makeup and paint on 24 hour tattooes, you'd do the same to her and match for a day.

♡ it took a while for her to get on board with pda and cuddling but she's very touch starved and enjoys being the big spoon, along with slinging a protective arm over your shoulder when you walk with her.

♡ gifts you with handcrafted jewellery that brings good luck upon the wearer, the sight of you adorned in good luck charms and jewels that banish evil wash her over with relief.

♡ patricia's hugs are a bit stiff but once she eases into them she can squeeze the life out of you and warm you up in the snap of a finger.

♡ she radiates so much body heat, feel free to put your hands in hers when you come home late... she might even know a spell to help you!!!

♡ lets you call her trish or patty if you'd like.

♡ late nights consist of you both laying in each other's arms reading different books, but if you come across an excerpt the other might like you read it aloud for them.

♡ meeting you was the best thing that happened to her, once she realized she was in love with someone at the manor it urged her to befriend some of the other girls and she even mustered up the courage to chat with the hunters.

♡ somehow she became friends with yidhra and when you come home at night you'll occasionally see the dream witch sipping some tea at your coffee table, giving you a silent wave that means 'hey'.

♡ god you loved patricia.

#I BELIEVE IN WOMEN SUPREMACY !!!!#patricia dorval imagine #margaretha zelle imagine #idv x reader #patricia dorval #margaretha zelle

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whumperfly-chaser · 3 years ago

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Maurice- Ch 2 | A realization

Don't you just hate it when you find out your tenant has been secretly using his home to host and torture someone for his own sick pleasure? Simply the worst way to start an afternoon.

T/W's here: (Emeto, dirty home, rotting foods and other bits, abandoned setting, infestation) (Lmk what else to tag!)

It would’ve been a pleasant afternoon, drizzling slightly on clean sidewalks and an overgrown lawn, children in raincoats playing in the neighboring yards, and birds singing happily under the shower. It would’ve been a pleasant afternoon, but not for Denice or Martin. No… Not for them in the slightest. Denice tightens her grip around the umbrella handle as she listens faintly to Martin’s complaints.

Prev- Next

“I’m telling you Denice, you’ve got to stop thinking that Roger was up to this shit. Sure, he was a little off sometimes, but he paid the rent just fine.”

“And I’m telling you that I heard something in here. I could’ve sworn I heard a scream when I was walking by. That’s no dog, Martin. It sounded human and scared and I-“

“And you what, Denice?” Denice looked at him with a sort of restlessness, every once in a while she gazed at the innocuous exterior. This house used to be hers. It used to feel nice to walk by and it used to feel safe. But now… all it gives her is a sense of dread.

“Are you really going to break into a tenant’s home just to investigate a random shout you heard? That could literally be anything!”

She crosses her arms. “I know what I heard, Mart. And it’s not his home anymore; he’s dead.”

Martin groans, dragging his hands down his face, releasing it with a snap. “Denice, you’re being unreasonable. The guy could’ve had a kid over-“

“He has no kids. And he mentioned it when signing the lease, too.”

“Like hell you remember when he signed that lease.”

“Steel. Trap. Memory. He said, and I quote; ‘I know this neighborhood is real quiet, so don’t worry, I never have anyone over, it’s just me in here.’ End quote.”

Martin rolls his eyes. “He could’ve been watching a movie-“

“That was no movie. It was guttural- and- and real.” Denice shudders, hugging herself as she takes another longing look at the house.

“It could’ve just been him yelling after a rough day-“

“The voice was too high compared to Roger’s.”

“It could’ve been coming from another house, or a person nearby.”

“It was coming from the house.”

Martin stares at her, half nonplussed and half exasperated. When Denice raises an eyebrow at him he simply looks away, staring at nothing in particular as he finds the words to say in response.

When he finally looks back at her, he’s no longer fully disbelieving her, but he’s definitely hesitant. “Look. You heard that noise weeks ago, Denice. Whatever it was, it isn’t there anymore. Plus, do really you think I’m going to go in there when our tenant might have been a psychopath with- people in his house?”

Denice almost glared, but instead she simply took to walk down the dirty stone path to the entryway.

“Denice- Denice, what in the absolute fuck are you doing?!”

“If you don’t want to go, fine. But voice or not, I still need to evaluate the condition of the house.”

“His family might still want his things-”

“He has none he’s close with. He signed his coworkers as references, too. Plus, I have the right to inspect.”

Denice opens the three locks in the front door like clockwork and swiftly opens the door to a dark and dusty apartment. It’s a fairly straightforward layout, with an L-shaped couch and some pillows, a plain carpet, and a coffee table in front of it. On the adjacent wall there’s a television on a shelved stand with some mildly off abstract paintings, strewn with messy strokes of black, blue and red paint. She glances at it for a second and finds herself looking away just as quickly.

Despite that, it was a normal-looking home, if not unsettling because of how abandoned it felt.

The smell is bad, but bearable as she turns on the lights. The furnished living room has a thin layer of untouched dust coating it, as though it finally had time to settle. It’s as she enters the kitchen that the putrid smell hinted at before hits full throttle. She swallows dryly and takes a step back, bumping into… someone’s chest…

Denice shrieks, struggling as a hand is placed on her shoulder-

“Shush! It’s me!” She snaps open her shut eyes and relaxes only slightly upon seeing Martin’s worried face looking back. He retreats his hand and takes two paces back himself, arms up in caution. “Sorry I grabbed you.”

“Oh-!” She heaves to herself, pressing a palm to her chest as if guiding her lungs to stretch further. “I-It’s okay, just don’t- don’t do that again, Mart.”

Martin nods, grimacing from the overall scent of the home. “I’m really sorry… Um.. I found these keys? They were on a keyring next to the door, but they don’t seem to belong to any of the locks.”

“Keep them for now. Maybe he changed some? We’ll have to check if he put a lock or three somewhere here.”

“Isn’t that against the lease?” he asks whilst putting the small wad of keys in his back pocket.

“I’ve got other things to worry about right now… But we’ll need to look through the whole house.”

Denice inspects the room. Kitchenware, some appliances- a toaster oven, a blender… A very… diverse knifeblock… She pulls out a knife, only to find that it seemed recently polished.

Martin notices her interest in them. “Maybe he was interested in keeping everything maintained. The rest of the house seems pretty neat.”

Denice glances at the oxidation creeping from one of the thinner knives and doesn’t touch it. “…Maybe.”

“Is it me, or is the smell coming in stronger from the refrigerator?” Martin asks, but seems hesitant to open it.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Martin grimaces and looks away from the fridge as he pries it open. The lights snap on, revealing worms and maggots feasting on rotted food. One or two grown flies emerge from the indistinguishable piles of muck and escape the fridge as Martin slams the door shut. “SHIT!”

“The fridge wasn’t closed properly, I’m guessing…”

“You’re guessing? Shit’s a pigsty.”

“That’s what happens when food rots near the presence of flies, Mart.”

Martin gags. “No shit, Sherlock. Hell, did anybody even come in the house after he died?”

“I doubt it… Let’s just move on.”

“Let’s.” Replies Martin, looking through the cabinets. There were several lining the corners of the room, about twenty total; ten above and ten below. Unsurprisingly, a variety of spiders had long made their homes inside of the spaces from the absence of movement. The occasional pest would skitter between the raised boards, one of which being a cockroach large enough to garner a scream from the buxom woman. Martin was ever quick to kill it, slightly more composed than his counterpart.

“I don’t get why he’d have so little spices and so much salt.” Martin finally remarks, opening one of the upper cabinets.

“Maybe he likes pickling food?” Denice supplies, frowning at the dust layering the pots and pans below.

“I doubt it. His fridge would’ve been a lot more tolerable- and less… maggoty.” Martin shudders and proceeds.

Denice is opening yet another cabinet door when the realization finally hits her- She snaps back to a rather calm Martin, who was inspecting one of the bags. “Wait! Mart!”

Martin simply stared at her, nonplussed. “What?”

Denice stares back at him, then his hand. “Wait… didn’t you mention that salt burned you guys?”

Martin looks at the salt in question and chuckles softly, then pats the leaking paper bag. “Don’t worry, salt is only a big deal for obligate vamps.”

“Oh.”

“Yep. Plus I’m almost sure this is full of drugs.”

“It’s too granulated for that, Mart.”

“You never know.” Martin shrugged and placed it on the counter, continuing his run-through.

Why was she even doing this anymore? Did she really want to know what else was here?

…And yet, she finds herself opening the last cabinet regardless, surprised to see a different, smaller fridge inside it.

“…Mart, did we ever leave a mini-fridge here?”

“No? why would he own a separate fridge? Did he own snakes? a lizard of some kind?”

Denice cracks it open, shuddering at the sickening smell of iron and old blood, all in bloated vacuum-sealed bags, separating into clear, off-yellow plasma and coagulated chunks of dark rot. “He- he’s human, right?”

“Yeah? His ID would’ve specified if he were a supernatural.”

“Martin… Either he was a vampire, or he has enough blood to house one for no reason.”

“Blood? Wait-“ Martin ambles over to see it and retches at the sight, spitting into an overfilled trashcan nearby.

“Holy shit.“

“Martin- hey, it's okay man.” Denice rubs small circles on his back, and Martin coughs in his panic until it slowly died down. All is quiet between them, buzzing with unsaid questions.

"It's the smell that's killing me. It's wrong. Blood shouldn't be.." He straightens- realizing something until the last words finish his thought. "...wasted. Denice."

She perks at the call. "What?"

“You need a license to buy blood.” He silently mentions, the statement lingers in the air, weighter. His slitted pupils are wide and anxious.

Denice looks back at the minifridge, glancing at the almost rudimentary setup for storing the bags, compared to the professional handling she's seen with actual banks on the few times she accompanied Martin.

“I think-… I think this was his own. And you aren’t supposed to house vampires—even if you sign for them.” Denice feels her stomach lurch as she closes the door of the minifridge.

Martin looks at the blood with an apathetic sort of disgust, the bags having insulted his senses for the last time. “Will you please close the fridge already? The kitchen smells awful as it is.”

“Oh- Sorry. Let me just-“ She tries to close it normally, but it doesn’t really shut. A bit more pressure is applied, and even then the door bounces back open. One of the bags had clearly tilted out of shape when she opened it, but… Denice was not about to touch it more than she had to already.

She gives it a hearty shove.

There’s a squelch when it shuts, leaving a gush of sickly, yellow-tinted plasma to shoot and bead along the dirty linoleum flooring. Some clots of dark, runny sickness sputter and run down the fridge door

“…I burst one.” Denice gags while a strangled sound escapes Martin’s chest.

Martin heaves dryly, pressing a fist to his lips and an arm around his stomach as though it would stop him from vomiting altogether. They really should’ve placed a better window in the kitchen.

This could’ve been a nice afternoon.

“Den- Denice, I need to take a breather, yeah? or- or- I’ll definitely throw up. Let’s get to somewhere else- I can’t- I-”

“Y-Yeah… Let’s just get out and recuperate a little.”

Denice walked out of the kitchen with Martin following closely behind, his breaths stifled to try and limit the amount of bad air he inhaled.

But now Denice was even more unsure if she wanted to see what else lied in the house. Even with someone as strong as Martin beside her, she felt nervous. Uncertain.

Afraid.

Martin seemed to sense her worry and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We can always leave. You don’t have to stay here and see whatever else was in here.”

Denice enjoys his touch a little longer, thinking on what to say in response. In truth, she did want to leave. She wanted to leave from the beginning. But seeing just what they found now… Well, the knowledge would only eat at her if she didn’t find a conclusion to this.

“…Let’s just see the rest of the place, and we’ll leave right away. Is that okay with you?” She says despite herself. Martin looks absolutely disinterested in continuing the search for the scream’s source, but sighs. “I’ll go.” The relief Denice feels at those two words is immense. “But only because I don’t want you to be in here by yourself.”

“Thank you Mart.” “Don’t mention it.” His tone is curt yet warm, and Denice opens the door to the staircase with a bit more confidence.

They walked up the pine stairs with little conversation- the smell noticeably got better as they left the kitchen area, until it was replaced entirely by the musty scent of dust and no air circulation. The other two bedrooms were normal; they were replaced with an office and storeroom, both of which had no outstanding features. In truth, besides the paintings, there was a very little amount of personality in his home décor.

The attic was a different story altogether.

Martin bumped his head for the third time on the attic’s ceiling when Denice had seen it- shackles. Chains. Restrains of all shapes and sizes. Whips, prods, pokers and knives. Tasers and Gags and ropes and belts and flails- and a bowl.

A bowl of water, next to a spray bottle. Martin touches it and recoils- hissing to himself as he stared at his now reddening hand.

His burned hand.

----

They stumble out of there, disconcerted and horrified as each of them try not to think too hard on their findings. The lawn door creaks and wanes on its rusty hinges until they both find a place to sit under a lawn table’s umbrella and chairs.

And so they sat, not quite talking but exchanging conversation through glances alone. Martin takes a deep, shuddering breath and holds his head in both hands while Denice hugs herself, desperately trying to make sense of it.

But no matter what, they couldn’t quite make sense of it. It could have easily been confirmation-bias, but every path seemed to lead back to her original theory, and they hated it.

Martin still looked unnerved, his grey-tinted features dark despite the sun peeking out on him. He tapped his fingers against the clouded glass and grimaced- rubbing his fingers together at the gritty feeling of muck layering the table. He takes a quick sip of his flask and grunts as his burnt hand slowly starts regrowing the tissue.

"...It was concentrated." He eventually says after noticing her worried glances. "Fuckin' liquid was probably saltier than the ocean. Could've been acid for all I know. "

Denice felt herself losing composure as well- an internal tremor echoed through her as her worries piled on. Further and further it pushed her will to continue looking. Yet the most she could do was retreat into a better space- a more optimistic section of her thoughts where the noise she heard was nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

She couldn’t imagine how Martin could feel about this- he was a vampire himself, and was now dealing with the possible reality of one of their tenants illegally hosting an unregistered vampire in his home. Torturing a vampire. Feeding it with his own blood to avoid getting into a registry.

She can't unthink it. She doesn't want it to be true, and yet she feels it's growing more real by the second.

She's rethinking every instance with the tenant, no longer a placid young man with a mild interest in the arts, but holding those pokers, those knives, those weapons, and using it on someone. On her. On Martin.

She desperately hoped for it to be a joke. A gag. Something unreal and unbelievable, as Martin had told her just an hour ago. But reality was setting in too quickly for fantasy to fill in the gaps, and now she had seen too much.

Martin was the first to speak.

“I’m calling the police.” It’s such a firm statement that it leaves Denice even more unsure. If they called the police, what would happen? Did they really expect something to make sense if they did? For some justice when they didn’t even know if the man did this? They would most certainly laugh. Laugh at them both for calling them over simply because they saw some odd things in his own home.

She remembers how each weapon had drying flecks of dark ichor lacing them and gags.

“…It's not going to be a good idea. There isn't much in terms of evidence.”

Martin glared at her momentarily, his gaze only softening upon seeing her distress. “We can show them what we found-“

“And then what?”

Martin looked away and at his hand, pensively staring at the mottling patchwork of repairs on his skin. “I don’t know.”

Denice unknit her brow. “Well… we still have one last room to search through. None of the keys fit the other doors. If we see something truly incriminating, we'll call.”

Martin flexed his now-healed hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling forcibly as though trying to grasp his last strands of composure. Or savoring the fresh air while he still could.

“Fine, but I’m not going back there for longer than I have to, and neither are you. Comprendes?”

She nods, now set and resolute. Martin stood up and stretched, his joints popping until he heaved a breath and walked to follow his partner. The one place they hadn’t searched. The last room. The room they both dreaded entering.

The basement.

#might edit later #i dont know man im tired #denice and martin #they argue like an old married couple #whump #tw whump #vampire whump #martin is a vampire

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